Chapter 8: Open Up My Eyes

The Daily Prophet, Breaking News!

Severus Snape Lives!

22 January 2013

Hogsmeade, Scotland.

The whole of the Wizarding World is shocked to learn that lauded war hero, Severus Snape is, in fact, alive and here in Hogsmeade! The Ministry of Magic released a statement confirming that the enigmatic wizard who Harry Potter credited as the linchpin of his success in defeating Tom Riddle did not, in fact, actually die in the Battle of Hogwarts nearly fifteen years ago. That's right, dear readers, Severus Snape Lives! You heard it here first.

Snape was presented personally with his writ of Pardon, his Order of Merlin first class, as well as a letter of thanks from the Wizengamot by Chief Warlock, Arthur Weasley, Leader of the Order of the Phoenix, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and the Minister of Magic, Basil Brimblecombe in a private ceremony. Also in attendance were Auror and Saviour, Harry Potter, Senior Auror Ronald Weasley, Master Healer Hermione Granger, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Master Potioneer Draco Malfoy, and his father, Lucius Malfoy.

None of the principles has been available for comment. "None of your business, young lady! Now, leave before I turn you into a chamberpot!" - Headmistress McGonagall.

"I don't know why anyone is surprised. Snape is the most exemplary Slytherin of all, as far back as Merlin. We're survivors above all else." - Fergus Crowley of Edinburgh.

Where has the controversial ex-Headmaster of Hogwarts been this whole time? Wild speculation abounds, and many believe that he had been abroad, seeking healing after suffering severe wounds. What is certain is that he has lately been staying with the Malfoy family.

All appeals for a personal statement or interview from Mr Snape have been summarily rebuffed. The Ministry requested that the Malfoys and their esteemed guest be afforded their privacy. Flocks of well and ill-wishers alike have streamed into Hogsmeade, and the atmosphere here has been tense to say the very least.

The Postmaster in Hogsmeade has requested that those wishing to contact Professor Snape refrain from sending explosives, howlers, and other noxious missives as the Professor has retained a High-Security Post Box. "I will call down the full force of the law on any who cause harm to my premises, staff, or the owls with reckless gestures." - Blue Morton.

Is this a stunt set up by the Minister of Magic to turn attention away from talks with the European Congress? The timing, coming up on the Fifteenth Anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and the end of the Second Wizarding War is quite curious.

See page 3 for speculation about the returned wizard's fortunes and eligibility and page 8 for the contradictory claims of two witches who claim to be engaged to the elusive wizard.

~ Salacia Rankle, Reporter. The Daily Prophet.


Hermione exerted her authority as Snape's Healer for the two days following his "coming out" with an iron fist. No alcohol or solid food and no more than two visitors at a time. Snape was expected to write out his communications for the first day instead of speaking aloud.

Lucius was quite certain that the fool had irritated Healer Granger in some material way, and he was surprised it had not happened sooner. She wasn't the same witch Snape knew over a decade ago. She bore his attempts to anger her with cool professionalism instead of allowing things to degenerate into pointless sniping. Lucius found his respect for Granger rising, and still worried at the change in her manners.

Before Snape announced his existence to the world, she'd been really starting to warm to Lucius, and he thought she might even care for Severus. The signs were subtle, much more so than one would expect, but he supposed that was his prejudice coming through. She did stay on, and Lucius believed that counted for quite a lot.

Every evening the witch retreated into letter writing and reading, sitting apart from the others. She hardly ever spoke over meals, except to ask that someone pass her the salt.

Healer Granger wasn't the only worry for Lucius. Before long Draco was called back to St Mungo's, although he still graced them with his presence in the evenings. He made light of the questions he was asked at work, but Lucius saw the symptoms of strain in his son.

One other unfortunate consequence of Snape's decision to re-enter the public eye in such an abrupt manner was the revelation of Dr Romana Lundar's involvement. A squad of Unspeakables appeared a mere hour after Minister Brimblecombe left the house and if it were not for McGonagall and Granger's interference, she would surely have been carried away by the zealots for questioning. Lucius had been afraid that it would be necessary to send her back to Geneva using unofficial channels, but Auror Weasley came to the rescue with a writ of Diplomatic Immunity, no doubt granted very hastily by his father. Safe, she'd resolved to do as much as she could, and planned to quit the country by next Monday under pressure from home.

It fell to Luna Scamander and Lucius to maintain civil conversation over meals. Luna was a godsend, and Lucius though she was an angel, sent down in his family's time of need. He knew he was unworthy of any sort of attention from a divine creature such as herself, and he was acutely aware of the ill his family had done her personally during the war.

When she'd appeared through the fire that fateful evening he was momentarily struck speechless. Lucius was flinced, overwhelmed, and entranced. He was immediately drawn to her and yet those old sins held him back as he gave her a hand through. He'll never forget her words to him, "Don't fret, Mr Malfoy. All will be well. We are here now."

Her pleasant, easy manners and agreeable nature put him at his ease. In their distraction, neither his son nor Healer Granger seemed to notice when the witch extended her visit there in the cottage. He found himself planning amusements that he thought might please her under the guise of reintroducing Severus to society.

Luna loved to go for walks, and enjoyed his gardens, even though it was winter. Because the others were taken up with their own distractions, he had her to himself quite often. When she took his arm he forgot his own troubles. He found himself wishing that she'd never leave.


Severus resented his confinement. Granger's restrictions irked him increasingly every day even as they gradually loosened. The Healer controlled his visitation time, just as she might if this were a hospital, and the Malfoys let her. She decided what he could and could not eat. What is more, the Healer herself was quite altered and none for the better. Gone were any pleasantries, and she seemed to be avoiding his company. She even went as far as to set a ridiculous schedule. He was certain no real consideration was taken for him when she set the appointments. It was all for her own convenience. In short, Granger was on a power trip and it was driving Severus mad.

There was no privacy. The house elf admitted that they'd been set to monitor him when he tried to test his voice when he woke on the second day. The elf silenced him, for Merlin's sake. Elves could not be swayed for they served out of devotion and Severus admired her ruthless economy. They alerted her to changes in his condition, or if he were violating her orders. She was ten times worse than Madam Pomfrey ever was.

Try as he might, he couldn't get her fired up. He'd taken to finding new ways of irritating her, hoping to get any sort of reaction. He could use a good fight, and it seemed to him that she'd be an excellent opponent. Better yet, she had an overdeveloped sense of obligation to protect him even from himself. He'd need not guard his words, she was very tough.

Alas with Granger, there was a very little conversation to be had at all. If it did not pertain to his injuries and their treatment, then she did not offer an opinion.

Each morning he was presented with a list of people who wished to meet with him. In this, he did have some control, and he took a measure of pleasure in refusing to see almost all of them.

Since Granger was already controlling his time, he forced her to help him sort through the people who applied to him. Having her serve as secretary mollified his irritation, although she insisted that he still pen his own letters of regret or thanks. "There is nothing wrong with your hands or your eyes, sir."

The afternoon of the first day he was permitted to speak freely she brought a pensive and a vial of memories sent up from Hogwarts by Neville Longbottom, who he learned had taken Pomona Sprout's post teaching Herbology. It was a full vial containing a first-hand view of the final confrontation at Hogwarts.

It began with Voldemort's declaration of Potter's demise and call for the denizens of Hogwarts to join his new world. He admired Longbottom's speech, and the Gryffindor's refusal to give in. Draco's crossing the lines to return to his parents was not surprising, and Severus marvelled at the difference in the boy now compared to that fateful day, only last week to Severus.

He was thrilled as he watched Neville deliver the death-blow to Nagini with the sword of Gryffindor. Severus decided to write a note of thanks to the wizard later, for while the blow was not dealt for his sake, he found it intensely satisfying. Sending him the memory was a thoughtful gesture, and Severus appreciated it immensely.

It was with bittersweet triumph that Severus viewed the death of Voldemort, and it took several viewings before reality sunk in. They'd won. He did it. It was well and truly over.

Several hours later he surfaced to find the Healer's chair occupied by Lucius, who'd come armed with his flask. Regardless of whether the whole thing had been orchestrated for his ease, or hers, Severus needed his friend most that night, not his Healer.

The next day he received Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived had grown into a man, and his confidence suggested he was a competent Auror. He had thought to bring with him the memories that he'd retrieved from Severus in that desperate hour, returning them at last to their rightful owner. Along with the memories, Harry brought genuine expressions of thanks for everything Severus did.

Taller, broader in the shoulder, and wearing his long hair tied up in a ridiculous bun, it was difficult to see the boy that he'd once resented. The vivid green eyes were the only feature that had not changed, although a Healer finally had acquainted Harry with corrective vision spells. The affection that Harry felt for him took Severus entirely by surprise. Potter had named his second son after Severus and expressed a wish to introduce the boy to his living namesake. Before he left, Severus agreed to come for dinner when he was well enough.

After Minerva McGonagall's visit, Severus expelled everyone from his rooms and did not come down for dinner, as he was permitted to do so now. Minerva was the first person from his old life who had broken down in helpless tears, begging his forgiveness. He wasn't a monster, and he could not refuse her. Nor could he burden her with the spectres of his failure, brought back to the forefront of his thoughts as she reminded him of people they'd lost. Granger offered him a dose of Dreamless Sleep that night, and for once he did not decline.


Under a great deal of emotional pressure, Hermione retreated from society. Luna was one of the few she could tolerate, and privately she was very glad of her presence in the cottage. Romana was the only other rational person on the premises. The witches weren't thoughtless, selfish idiots. It was a relief to be able to complain to such sympathetic peers.

"Take this morning. I went in to give Professor Snape the potions and walk him through his therapy, and he ignored me for a solid twenty minutes."

Romana shook her head, "What was he doing?"

"Reading the paper and finishing a cup of tea."

Luna raised her eyebrows, asking, "And what did you do?"

"Well, I paced about the room, and once I tired of that, I took out a book and amused myself until he deigned to acknowledge my presence."

"Was he not expecting you?" Romana was looking very confused by all of this.

Hermione hugged herself, trying to soothe her nerves. "I arranged appointments with him so that he could make himself available. I do not wish to be underfoot any more than necessary." She couldn't help herself, as unworthy as it was, and added, "He is determined to make this as unpleasant as possible while maintaining the outward appearance of good manners. He is teaching me to despise him and I'd not thought that possible."

A gentle touch on her shoulder drew her attention to Luna. "Is Professor Snape really acting so out of character? Wounded animals often attack their pack mates."

Ears heating in embarrassment, Hermione became uncomfortable as her friend reminded her of the expectation of making allowances for the injured. "That is a possibility. I just wish that he wasn't so dedicated to willfully misunderstanding everything I say and do. I don't know how to make this better for him."

"I think you are simply exhausted, Hermione. You have dedicated all of your energy to Snape's rescue and rehabilitation. Does he ever say thank you?" Romana made a very good point.

"Not since the first day." Hermione was taken aback. It was the unvarnished truth, but she'd not noticed it before now. She should not care, as Snape was under no obligation to be nice to her. She was his Healer, not his friend. He'd certainly never extended her any compassion as a teacher. And yet here she was, bellyaching about it.

Romana offered a comparison. "Mr Malfoy's manners are amazingly pleasant, and even now he continues to be a very attentive host. How are those two even friends, I wonder?"

Luna's face lit up, luminous as her namesake at the mention of the elder Malfoy. "Oh yes, Lucius is wonderful. He is everything that a wizard should be. I am excessively fond of him, you know." She laughed at Hermione's stunned expression, "What a shock that must be."

Waaaaaaait.

Hold the phone.

Shut the door.

"What?!"

"Oh, I thought you would have noticed. I am quite attached to Lucius. He's very agreeable company, and he listens to me. Even about the Nargles." She was leaning forward, her long hair in danger of dropping into her tea.

Hermione's mouth hung open. Surely not, she thought to herself. Surely, Luna who was a prisoner at Malfoy Manor for months, who witnessed torture and was mistreated terribly, and also who knew that Hermione was captured and tortured by the hands of Malfoy's relations, was not becoming fond of the old villain. Such a connection was unthinkable, for a snake was still a snake even if he did have lovely manners. It defied reason, but then again, this was Luna.

She threw Hermione a furtive look. "I should have known the first day I saw you in the Three Broomsticks. Those Wrackspurts you've attracted have multiplied and I am willing to bet it is Professor Snape that's attracting them. It is difficult to look at you with all of them swarming about you. You really should do something about them."

Romana asked, "But what could be done? I can't see these fascinating Wrackspurts."

"They're attracted by strong feelings and make it hard to think clearly."

"I thought I had Nargles?" Hermione was still trying to process that Luna actually like-liked Lucius. Luna and Lucius sitting in a tree . The idea was distasteful. She hoped it was a passing fling, not anything lasting.

"Oh, those too. I think you picked those up at Christmas, they do infest mistletoe. Have you been missing anything? Shoes or hair ties, perhaps?"

"No."

"Hmm." Luna seemed to be considering the mystery. "Maybe your lack of faith weakens their power over you." It didn't sound like a compliment to Hermione.

"Right." Hermione glanced at the time, trying to decide if she was ready to go back up there and march her unwilling patient through his paces.

It was Romana who pointed out the glaringly obvious. "Hermione, why can't Mr Snape come to you at St Mungo's? Come to think of it, could not some other Healer take over his care?"

"And give up all of this?" Hermione smiled, thinking of the vocal exercises she'd had him practising. His range was astonishing and his diction exemplary. It was diverting to listen to him sing scales with silly nonsense, like 'Me-moo me-moo me-moo.'

"Oh, I thought you might have something else you'd rather be doing." Romana was looking at Hermione with open curiosity and it made her wonder if her expression had betrayed her momentary lapse in vexation.

"While possible, it would mean exposing him to the public and sharing his case file. I wanted to see this through. He's nearly there. A few more days and I will be certain of his recovery."

Her duties as Snape's de facto social secretary afforded her some measure of amusement. It also allowed her to anticipate difficulties, and Hermione shamelessly meted out the most difficult meetings. Those she judged that would be most wearing or trying were imposed with hard time limits, and she took care to warn them against overtaxing her patient.

It was her idea to ask Neville to share his memories of the final battle with Snape. She particularly wanted the memory of Neville slaying Nagini included as she felt it important for the wizard's emotional closure. Lucius was her co-conspirator and stepped in when they felt that Snape needed to talk as he was the man's friend.

She was becoming accustomed to dealing with the Professor's mood swings and his temper. It was familiar and fitted her expectations. What bothered her was that he seemed to take a particular delight in singling her out for censure, while everyone else was treated with civility. It was Hogwarts all over again.

When she took on this project, she'd worried that this would be the case, and yet now that she was faced with the entirely sensible suggestion that she pass the responsibility on, she found that she was unaccountably reluctant to do so. The realization that their time together was drawing to its natural close brought her intellectual engine to a shuddering halt.

She didn't want to leave, to let go. She could not admit as much aloud to her friends, but there it was. As sour and unpleasant as he was, she was in as much danger as ever of falling for him.

At first, she'd thought her feelings for him were purely of admiration and respect, and the position she was put in allowed her to feel responsible for his health and well being. A sort of mothering instinct, she expected. But the Amortentia , combined with his effect on her could not be explained away so easily.

Lost in these thoughts, she'd been silent too long. Luna cleared her throat and asked in a way that suggested to Hermione that she was repeating her question. "And what shall you do then, Hermione? Will you return to St Mungo's straight away?"

"I haven't really thought that far. As the Hospital Administrators have figured out where I've been and whom I am attending, they've written me a blank check for as much leave as I'd like. Unpaid, of course, but that is immaterial."

Romana exclaimed, "That's generous! Maybe I should take you back to Geneva with me."

"Oh, I'd like to come for a short visit."

Waggling her eyebrows, Romana teased her in a sing-songy voice, "I've got a cousin who is a ski instructor. I'm sure he would be delighted to take you... up the slopes."

Catching the innuendo, Luna smirked. "Very kind offer. Does he have a, what do the girls say now? A crackin' arse?"

Scandalized, Hermione exclaimed, "Luna! Where did you learn such a thing?"

"Liverpool, I think." All three witches dissolved into girlish laughter, which was so lively that they attracted the notice of the rest of the house.

They'd carried on for a good five minutes when Draco slunk into the room. He'd been nominated to investigate and said as much, "The old wizards want to know what is so funny, and I think the one with the cane was muttering something about the sanctity of his lawn." He winked at Luna.

Romana, being very worldly thought nothing of answering with complete, painful honesty. "We were talking about the wealth of excellent examples of the male arse to be seen in some place called Liverpool."

Draco coughed, as though he'd choked on something. "Ack! I suppose… cough cough… that may be true." He recovered with a wicked smile. "I wouldn't know, not having undertaken a survey in person."

Luna cackled, "Oh, you are too funny. Shall we invite him along, ladies?" It was certain now that they would be going out this weekend, and nothing short of a natural disaster or other act of God was going to stop them.

"Along with us? I don't know, Draco. Do you like karaoke?" Hermione was too certain that he'd say no. Too bad she was wrong.

"I have been told I have a fair singing voice." He shined his nails on his shirt and blew them off. "How about you, Granger?"

A stuffed expression from Hermione answered him loud and clear, and before she could say anything, Romana clapped her hands. "It is settled. We shall all go out."

Draco pulled up a chair and seated himself, steepling his hands before him with a very serious expression. "I for one, believe this sounds like a wonderful idea. Tell me more about what you had in mind."

Hermione did little more than sputter as Luna and Draco ironed out the details. She was completely unprepared when Draco turned to her to ask, "What of your patient?"

Swallowing, she said, "I think he will be recovered enough by then to get on without me. I have been contemplating releasing him, now that he's mostly out of danger."

Luna and Romana both looked at Hermione knowingly, but Draco slapped the table in delight. "Finally! I can't bear his Granger-griping much longer. It has been what, three days since he last tried to bleed to death? That's a nice change of speed, eh?"

Hermione blinked. She'd known that her patient was chafing under her influence, but it was quite another to hear of his displeasure from another source. She controlled the impulse to ask for an explanation. There could be no satisfaction from knowing such things. "Yes. I shan't miss it." Misery curled its fingers about her throat, choking out the joy she should be feeling in her own success.

It was impossible to attend to what the others chatted over, and after another five minutes, she felt compelled to leave the room. It was too loud and she needed to think. She looked at her watch, and then apologized to her friends, "I have just recalled something that I need to attend to. Excuse me, I shall return after a while." Summoning an unconvincing smile, she rose from her seat, waving Draco down as he moved to stand in deference to her.


Luna looked after Hermione as she beat a hasty retreat. "Oh dear."

"I know. Poor thing." Romana saw it too.

Draco tapped a finger on the table twice, looked at at the door to be certain Hermione was out of earshot, and then turned back to the ladies with a predatory grin. " What was that?"


It was Thursday afternoon and Severus had nothing more strenuous on his schedule than a good book and perhaps a nap. He would never admit it, but he was still quite tired. Intellectually he understood this, but part of him chafed at the fetters of his own limitations. Was he getting old? The morning was eventful, but tea with an old friend was surely not too much for his reserves.

He had passed a pleasant morning visiting with Madam Pomfrey. She'd always been so kind to him, and that last year was quite rough on them both. Of everyone he had to deal with cruelly, he could never look her in the eye.

She was the repository of all of the children harmed while they were entrusted to his care. She knew it all. The letter he'd written to her was one of the very few that contained his apologies and excuses. He was entirely prepared to render them to her in person if she would only come to see him. He was not equal to a visit to the castle just yet.

What a revelation it was, when she greeted him with happy tears, her wrinkled, age-softened hands cupping his cheeks with evident fondness. "My dear boy, I knew it couldn't be true. How proud I am of you, so very proud." He wept then, like the boy she once knew so very long ago. He'd no idea that he was still capable of such emotion. As the Mediwitch left, securing promises of regular visits for tea, he found that he felt better then he had in years. Dear, sweet, Poppy Pomfrey always knew how to make it better and he was certain that there wasn't a more deserving nurse in all of the land. What a difference compared to Granger.

Lucius and Draco came to find him around three.

"We have a mission and neither of us will take no for an answer, so don't bother, Severus." Lucius was dressed to go out, gloves in hand. He rarely wore black, and privately Severus thought that Azkaban must have sapped his fondness for any grittier shade of grey.

Draco's grin alarmed Severus, but when he leaned in, he dropped his voice to a whisper. "Your jailor has gone out on errands, so we are going too. We'll be back before she knows it. I've finagled things with Poddy."

Sitting up, Severus looked himself over. He was dressed in the simple soft jumper and trousers that clothed his recovery. "I don't know if I have anything appropriate. Where are we going?"

Lucius arched a brow. "As if I don't know every article in your closet, Severus. We'll start at a tailor first, and if there is time, perhaps we might stop elsewhere."

Rolling his eyes, Draco whispered. "We'll have to work on the old man. He's very little fun to be around these days."

Severus was of two minds. First, he'd love to get out of the house and the temptation of it being a way to piss off Granger was almost too much to pass up.

Second, he never enjoyed clothes shopping. His former wardrobe should have been a testament to that. He found a suit whose cut he liked for his work, which he did seven days a week, and his Death Eater uniform was generously provided by Lord Voldemort himself. Add to that a few pieces meant for formal occasions, and that was the limit. Sure, he had a few clothes left over from his time spent with his family in Cokesworth, but they weren't even a possibility. "Can't I just send in measurements?"

Draco rubbed his hands together in glee. "There's an idea. I can pick things out for you and you won't have to make a single decision. You know I have excellent taste."

While this may be true, today Draco wore a very odd combination of clothes. Under a tailored blue suit jacket he wore a jersey shirt with a hood and the logo, "Hollyhead Harpies," emblazoned across the chest. Darkwash jeans that were fitted entirely too tight for his liking ended inexplicably short, and Draco's anklebone stuck out as he wore no socks, only a pair of loafers. His hair was spiked upwards in what Severus sincerely hoped was not fashioned after Potter's old look. Even Potter had abandoned that one.

Lucius snorted in derision. "You look ridiculous."

"What? Just because you don't understand fashion, Father, doesn't mean I look bad. It is a combination of tailoring and comfort, you see. All the rage." He picked at an imaginary piece of lint on his lapel.

Severus understood what was happening here. He was being manipulated. The question was, would he allow it? "If I go, will I get an ice cream?" He kept any hint of a smile away from his lips, as that would ruin the effect.

Lucius pulled on his gloves, correctly interpreting the jibe. "Come on then. Before Draco busts out a move, as the kids say."

Draco found that to be particularly amusing and he laughed all of the way to Twillings and Tattings.


The following morning was Friday. Hermione was anxiously going over the arrangements that needed to be in place for Severus' care. She planned on taking a sorely needed vacation: two days and a night away from the cottage. Luna and Romana had invited her to go to Liverpool with them, with grand plans of sampling the delights a city had to offer a lady. Pampering, shopping, dining, wining, and dancing - all were on the menu.

Romana was right, the idea of letting one's hair down in a place where one wasn't known was a charming idea. She'd been bottling up all her anger and amusement, along with a disturbing amount of sexual tension and she was fit to burst. She thought she was far enough along that she would even have a go at some karaoke. Strength in numbers, courage in anonymity. That's the ticket.

She expected that Professor Snape would take the news of her impending absence well, as he'd been referring to her as his jailor when he thought she couldn't hear him. It was juvenile, perhaps, but she'd been called worse.

"I'll be out of town tomorrow and Sunday, and expect to be back Sunday night. While I am gone, Madam Pomfrey has kindly consented to look in on you. If anything happens, or if she has any question about the care plan that is not adequately answered in the documentation I have prepared, then she knows how to reach me. I shall be available to you for emergencies."

Her patient was in his usual position at the table by the window, sipping tea. He'd folded the newspaper and the scowl he wore was a shade deeper than his usual. Something else was different. Was… was Snape wearing a colour? She blinked a few times, doubting the evidence of her own eyes.

"Do I get a few days off from being injured, then too?" If spoken in a lighter tone, it might have been amusing. The bitter edge to the question put her on her guard. At least he was speaking to her.

Forcing a smile, she answered, "If I could give any patient time off from being ill, I would. Imagine what a boon that would be to a wizard suffering from Dragon Pox or Scrofungulus."

"Indeed." He dropped the paper on the table. "So am I to go to Madam Pomfrey, or will she have time to attend me here?"

"She has consented to come here, the House Elves will transport her." She paused, and then added, "You are well enough, that if you wished, it would be safe for you to leave the house on short excursions. I caution you against too much exertion, but am confident that you will fare well enough."

Snape looked up at her, as she had not asked to take a seat this time. "You are loosening your hold on my leash, then? That's good of you. Without even casting a round of diagnostics, even."

Hermione let out a long, controlled exhalation, counting to ten in Mandarin. When she trusted herself to speak, she indulged him with a lecture. "As you know, a Healer should not be entirely reliant on magic to determine the wellbeing of her patients. Your colour is good, your eyes are bright, and you are well groomed. In addition to the attempt at what I must assume is innocent dissimulation, the photo of you on the front page of the paper, having been seen in Diagon Alley is ample evidence that you are ready." There, she thought to herself. With everything in the open, there would be no need for tiptoeing about landmines of bad behaviour.

A grimace spread on Snape's lips, and the wicked glint in his eye confirmed to her that he'd taken delight in slipping his leash last night. Very much so. "I was promised ice cream."

"And so you got it. What flavour was that? I didn't recognize it." The picture showed him licking the cone as he walked down the street with Draco and Lucius.

She didn't think he was going to answer her, but she was pleasantly surprised. "Peanut butter and marmalade."

"Well, there's no accounting for taste." The press was going wild over such a humanizing picture, and if Hermione had thought it was done on purpose, she would have been rather impressed at the execution of such an orchestration. She unpacked her bag, readying for the dressing change.

"What would you have selected?" He actually sounded interested, which was a nice turnabout from snappish petulance.

As Hermione opened her mouth to answer, she recalled her purpose in being here, and it wasn't to be chummy. Still, he'd been frank with her, a single personal detail would not cross the line, she supposed. He'd known her since she was 11 for Merlin's sake. What's one little vice shared between acquaintances? "Malbec with roasted cherries and dark chocolate. They only get it in once a year."

"Hmm." It looked like he'd not tried it, but she very much doubted that it was on the menu over a decade ago. Fortescue's was attacked in that last year, and the family worked very hard to reinvent the business. Mr Fortescue died of a heart condition some years back, caused by the long-lasting effects of his ordeal but he'd asked his children to keep the joy alive as a monument of defiance against black times. "Evil must not win. Laugh, eat, and live on!" It was a fitting epitaph.

Much that had been damaged by the war was rebuilt, but the marks were still there. Much like those on Snape's neck, or her own scars for that matter.

Not asking, she pulled out a chair and pushed the phials of potions towards him. "Today will be the last of the antivenom. The fortifier you will need for a while yet."

"I'd like to forgo the pain potion today if you don't mind."

She thought it was worth trying, although she expected it would still hurt quite a lot. If it weren't in such an awkward place, he probably could take over the bandage changes himself. "As you like."

As she took out poultice, bowl and sponges, she planned her angle of approach. It was much easier for her when he was laying down. She didn't have to get too close, but with him feeling better, they'd taken to doing the changes wherever he happened to be. "Would you like to look today?"

Professor Snape inclined his head, perhaps considering the offer in a favourable light. "That would be agreeable. To the lav, then?" He stood and picked up his chair, waiting for her to proceed him.

As she approached the bathroom, she had a growing sense of anxiety. She wanted to suggest a chaperone, but if he refused all of this time, and she'd not asked, he'd know that she was uncomfortable. And that was the last thing she wanted to convey. She thought to herself, You can do this. He's a patient. It is okay to be affected, you just won't express or act on those feelings. You can fucking do this, Granger. He's a bloody patient.

She caught herself staring as he pulled off his jumper and situated himself in the chair. He moved his neck about experimentally. Her eyes were drawn to the improvements that they'd managed. His frame was filling out again, only a hint of his ribs visible. Before she could offer, he pulled his own hair back and tied it off. A pang of loss wiggled its way through her carefully staid professionalism, an unworthy feeling.

Shoving it aside, she advanced on the wound, using fingers to release the winding bandage instead of magic. It was an indulgence on her own part, but she told herself that patients often preferred a soft touch. As the poultice came away, she hummed in approval. "Looking very good, sir." The skin underneath was nearly closed. The new tissue was still quite pink, but it was healthy and showed no sign of inflammation. She stepped back, so as to get out of way so he could see.

Snape stretched his neck to the side and then tipped his head upwards, examining the effect. She drank in the sight of him, heart lifting at how well he looked. Self-conscious, she concentrated, taking a memory of it for later before averting her eyes. It would not do to be caught taking too much of an interest.

"Right. Do I need the bandages?"

It was a good question. She stepped closer, leaning in to examine the sheerlines where the scar would be under the greatest amount of strain. "Well, I think that tomorrow you will be able to go without, but a less extensive bandage will work today. You still need the poultice. I have an ointment that you can start using tomorrow instead to prevent adhesions and lessen the scarring."

Rather than step around him, she leaned across to pluck up the pot of green goo from the counter. As she straightened back up she started to lose her balance.

Snape caught her about the waist in one arm as she wobbled away in a confused bid not to fall onto him. " Hermione !" He had very good reflexes. "Are you quite well?"

Mortified, Hermione straightened. "I'm sorry, sir. Yes, I'm fine, thank you." After checking her footing, he let go.

The rest of the visit passed by her in a blur. He asked her a few questions, but she was too flustered to provide answers of more than a few words. She managed to get the wound packed and treated with a smaller bandage without any further accidents and then she left the room when his back was turned to pull his definitely not-black jumper back on. It was a rich maroon colour and likely cashmere, the soft knit entirely too inviting. He kept his hair back, and therefore he seemed like quite a different person. She stole another glance at his retreating form, and as he moved the chair back to its place, she felt the injustice of the situation. He was a wizard that she already respected and admired, he smelled like her Amortentia, and then he had to go and transform from the buttoned-up Professor she knew to this? And to top it all off, he was completely out of bounds. Unfair.

Well, at least she only had to deal with the dressing one more time tonight. Surely her heart could handle that. She finished packing, deciding to take the chart back to her room rather than sit here to finish it. Ready to bid Snape adieu, she cleared her throat. "Seven O'Clock tonight still works for you?"

"I think so."

"Right-o. See you then. Have a good day, Professor Snape." She was stepping backwards, putting distance between them already.

There was a hint of bewilderment in his tone when he answered, "And you, Healer Granger."

She couldn't handle staying in that room any longer and was out the door as quickly as she could manage without tripping over her own feet. What would the sorting hat say of her now?


AN: Beta'd by the diligent Havelocked and the daring ScarletDewDrops.

Alpha'd by my friend who is laid up, SnapeLove and an unfortunate frequent tonsillitis victim, Coromandel.