Snape woke with a full bladder, and he immediately climbed off the bed as was his wont. Once he was awake, he had to get up, especially with an adamant bladder rushing him.

He purposefully ignored the witch still sleeping next to him, which was harder than he thought possible, now that the privacy curtain had been removed. He silently walked to the nearby bathroom, barely stopping himself from tip-toeing to be extra quiet.

He did his business and braced himself for returning. This time he couldn't help but look at her, his treacherous eyes apparently easier to sway than his mind.

Her hair had been returned to its healthy bushy state, and thick strands of it hung across her face. She was curled up on her side, and he was reminded of his trance-like state when he'd been under the influence of the potion. She had looked just like that: cowering in fear and in search for warmth and comfort.

He scowled without noticing and opened his bedside cabinet in search for his clothes. His eyes refused to look away from her for too long, and he ended up inspecting the inside of his cabinet by touch, with only one hand – which encountered nothing but air.

He growled as he realised that the nurse must have hidden his shoes somewhere else. Not wanting to wake Poppy to ask for his bloody footwear, he warily sat on the edge of his bed, crossing his arms as he scrutinised his student.

When she suddenly twitched and whimpered almost silently, he threw himself onto his bed, in hopes of not being found watching her, or worse, having to aid her in her distress. It was better to hide, fake sleep and wait for her moaning to disappear. The last time he had done such an idiotic attempt to hide in such a fashion, was when his room mates had interrupted him during a bit of self-pleasuring by coming back earlier from their Quidditch practise.

Tensely listening to her sounds, he noticed that she was quiet again and he found it safe to turn around once more. He visibly flinched in surprise when amber eyes calmly looked back at him.

"You're awake," he said unnecessarily, a little unnerved by her silent regard.

"Water?" she asked with a voice that rivalled sandpaper in its roughness.

He was close to calling Poppy for that unwanted task, and grimaced in indecision before giving in to her wish.

"Fine," he spat, as if she'd pestered him for hours. He filled the glass on his nightstand and stepped closer to her, holding it out to her.

When it was clear that he wasn't getting any closer, she tried to sit up, squeaking softly at the pain that raced through her.

He made another step towards her, watching her closely, as if she might pounce on him any second, even though a snail would have moved faster than her. The thin, deep-pink scar that adorned her throat was easy to make out if the candle light. The rest of her petite body was hidden under a flimsy and ugly hospital gown, only revealing her forearms and naked legs.

She raised one arm, willing it to stay upright and function properly. Biting her lip in fierce concentration, she reached out, but instead of grasping the proffered glass, her hand made a beeline and aimed towards his chest.

They were too far apart to actually make contact and both watched with big eyes at the hand in between them. He didn't ask her to explain herself, as he was far too busy with not giving into the soft pull he felt in his chest and leaning forward. Not knowing what else to do, other than to flee, he pushed the glass sideways, forcing it into her hand. It seemed to do the trick and she wrapped her small fingers around it, slowly bringing it back towards her.

She didn't blush, she didn't even look discomfited by her previous action, and concentrated all her energies onto drinking. Water splashed over the rim as it shook badly on its way to her pale lips.

Severus scolded himself mentally for filling it almost to the top, and made up for it by holding it steady with two fingers underneath. He doubted she noticed his altruistic act, seeing as she didn't even glance in his direction.

He held the glass until she had swallowed the first hesitant sips and gripped it harder when a sudden coughing fit almost made her drop the glass. Seemingly unaware if his presence she brought it to her mouth once more, and he felt safe in letting it go and taking a step backwards.

Leaving would have been acceptable and wholly expected by now, but he stayed rooted to the spot, trying to merge this frail Granger to the one he knew. It wasn't a pleasant comparison.

He noticed the glass slip from her weak fingers, and stupidly watched it tumble to the floor in slow-motion, making no move to halt its impending doom. It shattered noisily.

Poppy would have his hide for disturbing her rest, and he picked up his wand to Vanish the mess. Just as he was about to say the word, he noticed a drop of red land in the clear puddle and then another. Following its source he found the blood coming from between her legs, steadily dripping over the edge of the mattress.

"Sorry," she said quietly and lay down again, closing her eyes peacefully.

"Poppy!" he shouted and heard her sprint out if her office, before he had finished speaking.

"What are you doing, Severus?" she hissed and took in the scene, not making heads or tails of it. "Shoo," she said, as if trying to get rid of an annoying cat.

"Where?" he asked stupidly, wondering where she hid his boots.

"What where?" she asked, looking at him strangely.

"Where are my shoes… my cloak, my frock coat?"

"Shoes are in my office, but you came in with only that shirt," she said, wanting him to leave her to work.

"Probably still in France. Tonks really is incompetent at times. No matter, I have other business to attend there!" He muttered those words to no one but himself, already fleeing the infirmary.

He didn't stop to search for his boots and walked straight down to his quarters, not caring that he only had socks on. He hadn't felt so out of sorts in a long while.

XXXXX

She was squinting at the brightness that greeted her the next time she woke.

"Hello, dear," the well-known voice of her Head-of House greeted her. "We're so glad you're okay. You really had us worried."

This reception felt so different to the one she had from Snape last night and it felt oddly unreal and over the top.

"Come on, Miss Granger, time for your potions," the nurse said and lifted Hermione's head. "No more sitting up without my permission and help, young lady. You gave me quite a fright last night. I don't know that Severus was thinking."

"He just helped," Hermione immediately defended him, water dribbling down her chin as she spoke without swallowing first. She didn't mind and limply hung over Poppy's arm, perusing her visitors.

Dumbledore was there, too, and he smiled grandfatherly.

Hermione felt no wish to smile back. Her mind was a little clearer than just hours before, and it was abuzz with questions that she didn't want to ask. Before she could stop herself, she spoke.

"How do we retrieve my parents?" Her throat was scratchy but she only swallowed against the feeling.

"I have already done so, child. They are at the Ministry of Magic, until we decide on what we want to do," the Headmaster answered readily, obviously not surprised by her words.

Child… She was no one's child anymore.

Pillows were fluffed up behind her back, allowing her to sit with ease. Her eyes roamed uninterestedly over the few Professors that stood around her bed, seemingly waiting for something, judging by the expectant looks.

"We have found your wand in your parents' cottage," Albus said.

She looked at the wooden stick and only felt disappointment. It didn't protect her or her family. So easy to drop; so much more difficult to form the words for a spell than to simply pull a trigger…

Her teachers looked on with mixed feelings as she ignored her wand.

"Your friends are most eager to see you," Minerva said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. She wasn't sure how to deal with this silent version of her student and it simply unnerved her. She would have gladly taken her into a comforting hug, trying to console the girl, but there were no tears to see and it left her floundering.

"Okay." What else was she supposed to say; they would see each other one way or the other, might as well do it now. She expected someone to talk with Harry and Ron in a bit and give them permission, and they'd be round after lessons. She wasn't quite prepared for them to storm into the room after Poppy allowed them in. They must have been loitering behind the door.

With wide and panicked eyes she watched Ron storm towards her like Hippogriff during mating season, and she unsuccessfully tried to melt back into the mattress.

Her arms came up instinctively to protect herself, but her enthusiastic friend took it as an invitation for a hug and bent over her, pressing his frame against hers.

Her choked scream made him look at her, and he was still smiling as he thought it was a shout of joy. Only her facial expression finally made him get off of her.

"Mr. Weasley, I distinctly remember telling you to give her some space," Poppy scolded and pulled him further away. Albus and Minerva had been too far away from her to stop Ron's overbearing greeting.

"What's wrong with her?" the disturbed looking red-head asked in his usual unsympathetic voice, speaking as if she weren't there.

"She has been through quite an ordeal," was all the nurse offered. "Now behave."

Ron stayed were he was, looking down grimly at the still frightened looking girl with his arms crossed. He had hoped for a warmer reception – and perhaps a kiss.

Harry slowly walked over to her bed and sat down on a chair. He was just as happy as Ron to see her, but had himself more under control. Reading the finer aspects of people's reactions hadn't always been his strong point, but at seventeen, he had finally learned.

"Hey, glad to have you back," he said softly, trying hard not to grasp her hand to reassure himself that she was real.

"Hi," Hermione croaked and put a lot of effort into gathering her calm. With a slow and painful wriggle she tried to sit more upright, not comfortable with being so much lower than her visitors.

Harry ducked his head and saw Hermione sigh in relief when her eyes were finally on the same level as his. He smiled tremendously when she sought his hand, almost crushing his bones with her tight grip when she found it.

Everyone looked on in dismay and anger as a sulking Ron stormed from the room, throwing the door shut behind himself in a juvenile manner.

"Immature boy." To everyone's surprise it was the Gryffindor Head-of House who had spoken. Minreva realised what she'd said and fiddled self-consciously with her hat, even though it sat perfectly on her head. She looked at everyone with a challenging expression, daring them to comment. No one was that stupid.

Harry shook his head, looking apologetically at Hermione, who looked rather unsurprised at Ron's behaviour.

"What happened?" he asked, and saw Hermione look enquiringly at the Headmaster.

Albus only shrugged. "It was not my place to tell. You may tell them what you wish, my dear."

She grasped Dumbledore's offer like a life-line. "I'd rather no talk about it yet, Harry."

He looked disappointed, but understanding won out. "As long as you're okay." He stroked her hand. "Shall we call your parents; maybe it would make you feel better when you see them."

His offer was sweet and thoughtful, but it brought tears to her eyes. "I don't think they can make it," she prevaricated with a choked voice, and saw Minerva leave the room. The austere witch wasn't fast enough to hide her watery eyes.

XXXXX

Hundreds of miles away the scene was completely different.

A grim looking Snape Apparated with a vicious Crack to the place he had found a barely alive Miss Granger. He had only seen the cellar of the house and that's were he found himself in.

"Lumos," he snarled with suppressed fury and his wand glowed in an extremely bright blue. Only now did he realise in which conditions the young witch had lived in. Even the Azkaban cells looked more inviting than this!

His moves were jerky as the anger that coursed through him made his muscles stiffen. He strode up the rickety stairs and blasted the door of the hinges. Panicked French voices shouted nearby and he followed them with a cruel smirk.

They had been sitting calmly around a table filled with beer and wine when he entered the house, probably not even aware that the girl they had kidnapped wasn't there anymore.

He laughed harshly as bullets flew past him and he stepped into the line of fire to look the man in the eye he would blast into bits any second. His shoulder caught a bullet and with an enraged shout he threw himself forward. Without having to say a word, black-purple light shot from his wand to engulf the scared man.

With a disgusting but satisfying sound, all four limbs and an ugly head were wrenched off the body that fell to the ground.

Two more men were in the house and would be dead soon. More bullets shot through the air, blasting holes into plaster that crumbled to the floor. A lightbulb shattered, one shard lodging itself in Severus' cheek.

Snape's next victim gurgled horribly as an unseen force crushed his innards and then his neck. The last thing that man saw was the satisfied expression on his killer's face.

The last survivor, fired aimlessly at the intruder before fleeing into the next room. Snape strode after him, not even trying to put up a shield to protect himself against the bullets. As he rounded the corner, a stray bullet found its way into his thigh and he stumbled slightly.

With another impressive show of silent magic, he simply Accio'ed the last man, putting him in a body bind. He towered over the weak looking man in his late thirties, listening to his pleading words.

Surprising himself, he calmly cast a Translation charm, enabling him to speak and understand the rapid French that molested his ears.

"Why did you kill the Grangers, and why did you abduct their daughter?"