Anything recognizable is the property of J.K. Rowling. I do not make any claim to ownership, nor do I make any money from this.
Please do not read if you are not of legal age in your country. This is not a happy go lucky romantic story. There is less than consensual sex in this story.
Why
For almost an hour she just laid there, looking at the ceiling, trying to reconcile the man she was now officially married to. Their accounts at Gringotts would merge and she would have rights to any of his property, and he to hers. She had equally consummated the marriage and twiddled the ring on her finger. It was small and simple, meant to be unnoticed. Experimentally she tried to pull off the ring. Unsurprisingly it wouldn't budge.
Hermione let her hands fall back to her sides and she gasped as a spasm went through her shoulder. Soon every muscle was twitching, clenching, and straining against her skeleton. She groaned at the pain, almost as bad as the initial crucio. One desperate cry escaped her lips and she sobbed helplessly into a cushion.
Severus heard the cry, much later than he figured it would be. Silently he applauded her willpower but he couldn't fall straight asleep like he assumed he would. No other sound issues from the sitting room and he slipped out of his bed. Silently he entered the sitting room and peered through the darkness at the couch. The blanket had fallen down and Hermione was stretched out on the cushions, all of her muscles bunched up. Severus could see the sheen of sweat on her skin and her eyes were open looking at him.
He knew the pain she was enduring. Had experienced it enough times before to appreciate how strong the bushy haired woman was to resist screaming. Severus had screamed himself hoarse while in the grips of the aftershocks enough times before. Now watching the pretty woman before him, he couldn't just stand by and watch, after all, he had truly lost his taste for watching suffering.
Slowly he approached her, watching for any sign she did not want his presence. Softly he laid his hand on her foot. The skin felt incredibly thin under his callused fingers and colder than it should be. Watching her face, Severus began rubbing the cramps out of her muscles, first one foot then the other. When he started on her calves she forced her mouth to work.
"Why?" Hermione groaned.
Severus took a moment before answering, causing her to moan when he pressed a specific knot of muscles. "Because I know that the after effects can be worse than the original curse sometimes."
"But why?"
"That is how the curse was designed." He switched calves.
"No Severus. Why did you help me?"
He startled at the use of his first name. "Because you could do great things if you survive this war. We need people like you."
She seemed to nod and stopped talking, just letting him rub her muscles into relaxed submission. By the time he finished her arms and shoulders, Hermione had fallen asleep. Severus tucked the blanket over her and returned to his room.
Hermione slept almost to dinner when she woke to find Severus sitting in a chair reading a book. Her stirring drew his attention away from the tome and he pointed at the glass of water sitting next to the couch.
"Drink that."
Hermione obeyed, draining the glass and she immediately understood why he had left the water out. Her muscles screamed for more water, a stabbing pain started behind her eyes.
"May I get more?" She asked meekly, trying to gauge the older man's temperament.
Wordlessly he reached for the glass and filled it. Hermione tried to swing her legs off of the couch and gasped at the soreness.
"Just sit there." The potions master directed, handing over the water. "The Dark Lord will likely be summoning me soon. I am sure he will learn about the marriage. While I am gone, feel free to explore, everything here is yours as well."
At that moment the mark burned. "I must go now. I will return soon. Don't over exert yourself. You will be weak until tomorrow."
"Please be careful." The Gryffindor looked down at her hands laying crumpled in her lap.
Severus stood and donned the Death Eater garb. He quickly left the house when he saw Hermione shiver upon seeing the mask again. After he disapparated, the brunette lay on the couch staring at the ceiling. Mentally she berated herself for wishing him well. After 20 years of spying she was sure he knew better than anyone how to stay alive. Panic washed over her. What if he didn't come back. Perhaps Voldemort would kill him. She rubbed the ring on her left hand and slumped back on the couch.
