NINE

"What do you think of her?"

"Sir?"

"Miss Granger. What do you think of her?"

She's magnificent.

"She's an excellent student. If she didn't spend so much time with Potter—"

"No, Severus. You're deliberately misinterpreting the question."

"She's done well, Albus," he said, settling back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. It wouldn't help, of course. The headmaster would know he was striving to appear comfortable since the line of questioning made him uncomfortable. "She has handled her work load well this year, and taken to Occlumency on top of that."

"Good. Good."

"We will start with Legilimency on Monday."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Yes, sir."

Hermione arrived outside the Room of Requirement first, yet the door refused to appear. No matter how hard she thought, the little room with the wingback chairs and spindly little table with water didn't appear. Instead, the Room simply presented a tunnel. A long, dark, descending tunnel. There were torches down the length of it with enough space between that there were foreboding pools of darkness.

When Snape was ten minutes late and the Room was still a tunnel deep into the castle, Hermione took her wand out of her pocket and went inside.

By the time she passed the fourth torch, she was running. The sense of urgency wasn't her own, but it was stifling.

The tunnel ended in an archway and a dark room.

Lumos.

Snape was on the floor maybe three steps out of the archway. At first, she thought he was having a seizure, but he didn't seem to be convulsing. He was arched up, hands stiff claws, elbows bent. He seemed to balance precariously on his head and toes; the slightest twitch would've sent him toppling over, but he didn't move.

Oh, God, he's been cursed.

Forgetting the strangeness, forgetting the lesson, forgetting everything, she ran into the room.

"Sir? Bugger." She knew three diagnostic spells. One was for curses, one was for enchantments, and one was for illnesses like the common cold. She had books full of them in her trunk up in Gryffindor Tower, but that didn't help her now. "Shit!" He collapsed, and she almost dropped her wand.

"You swear a lot," he said, jaw clenched.

"What the fuck."

He laughed. It was a wheezy, painful thing to hear. It cut off abruptly and his whole body clenched again.

She cast her three diagnostic spells. He hadn't been cursed. He wasn't enchanted. His muscles were seizing up; he was in pain. She knew what to do for that, but before she could cast, he unclenched and grabbed her wrist.

"Don't. No spells. Makes it worse."

"Makes it worse?

"It'll pass."

"What will pass?"

"Aftershocks."

"Aftershocks of what?"

Instead of answering, he clenched up again. His grip on her wrist turned painful as his hand spasmed into a claw again and squeezed the bones together. She grabbed his hand with her free one and held on. It hurt.

It was over almost as soon as it began. He lay down flat on the floor, panting.

"What's happening?"

"Nothing. It's over."

"Just like that?"

"You can always feel it."

"Feel what."

She realized she'd gone from hanging onto his hand while he crushed the bones in her wrist to actually holding his hand. He was holding her hand back. Their fingers were twined, holding tight. She wasn't sure what to do about it. It wasn't nurse-at-the-bedside hand holding. It was…

"The Cruciatus Curse," he said. He sounded tired, utterly done in.

"Aftershocks," she repeated as it fell into place. It was a sign of torture. Prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse led to aftershocks, the length and duration of which were directly proportional to the torture. "Aftershocks."

"I'm fine."

"LIKE HELL!"

He took a deep breath and squeezed her hand, using it as leverage to sit up. He didn't let go. Instead, he brought it to his lips and kissed the back of her hand, then drew her arm closer so that her wrist was in front of him. With a few murmured words, the heat that had begun to turn into soreness dissipated.

She took a deep breath and let it out through her nose. "Thank you."

"It was my fault."

"Who used the Cruciatus on you?" He tried to turn away, to stand up, but she still had his fingers in hers and she held him where he was. "Who."

"Who do you think?"

"Why. Why do you do this? Why did you go back? Dumbledore spoke for you. I looked up the transcripts of your trial. You were off the hook. And he's afraid of Dumbledore; you could've just stayed at Hogwarts. Been safe."

"You looked up the transcripts?"

"Of course I looked up the transcripts."

"You are… You are the swottiest swot to ever swot."

It made her laugh, but she knew that hadn't been what he'd meant to say.

"I don't understand why you do it, sir."

He sighed. It was one of those sighs that came straight out of the farthest depths of his soul. Then he squeezed her hand one more time and stood up, pulling her to her feet with him.

"Why don't you find out? We're beginning Legilimency. That can be your goal; find out why I do what I do."

"You'd never let me get that far."

"I have to let you see something to teach you."

"You'd never let me get that far," she repeated. He looked down at her, considering. He almost smiled, she could see it in his eyes.

"Try."

A/N: Sorry it's a short one!