Chapter 10- Shelter
Even as they spun into the chaos of Apparition, Hermione was a motionless bundle in his arms. Snape hit the floor of the Express with a thud and barely managed kept his legs under him. He was panting, he realised dully, and the lingering effects of fear and fury had left him covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Scrambling for any semblance of control, he called forth his Occlumentic shields. As they took shape, the scene in front of him seem steady as the chill of his protections provided a buffer.
Right. Triage first…
Carefully, Snape placed Hermione on top of the coverlet of his bed, casting a series of diagnostic charms on her in rapid succession. The damage to her throat was limited to the soft tissues and was not impeding her respiration significantly, although he was concerned about what might occur as the swelling progressed. As he took in the injury, the mangled skin of his own neck itched and prickled in solidarity, but he batted the memories away and continued to decode the medical charms.
She had been drugged with a relatively standard tranquillising compound, and the bezoar had stabilised her enough that he could treat that particular issue last. Sifting through his medical stores, he plucked out a vial of an anti-inflammatory painkiller and measured a dose. Turning back to her, he paused, rage once again bubbling up through his protections as he took in her blank, tear-stained features and limp body. Fix her, he told himself sternly. Fix her first, and then you can feel. Ruthlessly shoving his emotions under the lock and key of his Occlumentic shields, he moved on.
Sliding an arm under her back, Snape propped her up. "Granger, I need you to drink this." Slowly, the dull brown eyes opened; head lolling to one side, she reluctantly opened her mouth. He poured the mixture in bit by excruciating bit, trying to insure that she wouldn't gag.
It's safe enough to use the topical compound of the broad-spectrum antidote, he decided after re-assessing her vitals, and summoned the small crystal bottle. Flipping one wrist over, he carefully placed five drops of the murky green liquid on her pallid skin. The effect was almost immediate: he could see her respiration and heart rate increase at the same time as her complexion lost some of the waxen texture.
Coming around further, Granger gave a little whimper of distress and stirred.
"You are going to be alright," he soothed mechanically, trying to quickly plot what step to take next; he needed to know what bothered her the most and if he had missed any other injuries. Making eye contact with her, he stroked the silky skin of her upper arm. "Will you show me what happened? I need to figure out what to treat next."
Dread welled up in her eyes as she shrank back into the pillows at the suggestion. He leaned back to give her further space, fingers stilling. Don't be such a bloody idiot, Snape! Of course she doesn't want to show you that… "My apologies, I can proceed without the details."
Glancing back to medical kit, he began to pick out the next set of potions to give her before an indistinct moan caused him to turn back to Hermione. Her bloody hand clinched at the coverlet of the bed, and he felt the slightest tug of Legilimency as he looked into her determined gaze. Allowing himself to be drawn forward, he fell into her mind like a stone dropping down a well.
Turbulent emotions- terror, fear, panic- wrapped demanding tentacles around him, all while her memories of the evening hit him in a series of waves.
Annoyance at being torn away from Severus; It's not as if he has any respect for me, or Severus, for that matter… Her tongue thick and dry, a bitter metallic taste in her mouth as she realized that she had been drugged. Buffone, face twisted by an insane fury. The corner of the desk digging sharply into hip and thighs as the world went crimson... his breath, hot and foul on her neck, smelling like whisky and green olives… bands of fire gripping her neck…
Why? Oh, god, why this again...?
And then he was in a different library, a different set of memories, one with peacock blue carpets and freshly waxed floors. Utterly desperate to keep her secrets; they mustn't figure out who Harry was! A knife slowly carved perfectly formed letters in her flesh. She was surrounded by matted coils of ink black hair and maniacal laughter as her blood pooled into odd shapes on the parquet. An unwashed and feral creature lunging at her…
It was the remembrance of a long-dead werewolf that finally jolted Snape into action. Frantically, he flailed at the spinning memories, seeking Hermione among the turmoil of it all. She was a tiny thing, dwarfed by all the monstrous sentiment, and she would be easy to enfold her into his own shields. Swiftly, he pulled her in and went to work shoring up her defences; brick by brick, he built a wall to keep out the worst of her horrors. While it wouldn't last long- a week, at most- it would hopefully be enough to give her space when dealing with the attack.
However, in the privacy of his innermost mind, he couldn't hide from her. Couldn't hesitate, or prevaricate. She reached for him suddenly; he could do nothing but grasp back. Deliberately, he recalled the warmth of their earlier hug, and felt the power of that memory shelter them both.
Severus… the sheer relief and implicit trust in her mental tone was a revelation to him.
I'm here, he told her. And I will protect you. I will not leave your side… just come back with me, Hermione. Don't stay like this…
I'm scared. I don't want to deal with any of this again.
You can, and I will be with you every step of the way.
Promise?
I promise! He infused his reply with as much reassurance and understanding as he could; he knew all too well the desolation of wallowing in one's memories and having no ladder to which to climb out. How many nights did I spend bleeding on the icy stone floor of the dungeon, wishing for death to finally claim me?
Intertwined as they were, Hermione was privy to his musings, and his bleak thought roused her as nothing else had. Never again, she vowed fiercely, Never again will you be left alone in such a manner! Together…
Together, he confirmed, and painstakingly began to pull out of her mind. It took several rapid blinks before his eyes could focus on the outside world again; Hermione was clinging to him just has she had been in their mental landscape.
Tears began to roll down her face, and she burrowed deeper into his shoulder.
Gently beginning to card her curls into a semblance of order, he let her weep.
Almost twenty minutes later, Max popped into the compartment, floppy ears trembling with distress.
"Headmaster, the Beauxbatons Madame is waiting outside with the Gendarme. She is asking to speak with you when possible, and asks if a Healer is being needed. "
"Tell Maxime," Hermione croaked before he could say anything, swallowing painfully, "tell her we will be out shortly, and that Headmaster has taken care of my needs."
"I can speak with her," Severus offered, gaze measuring. "The Gendarme can wait until the morning."
She shook her head, face still buried in his robes. "No. I would rather not draw this out."
Belatedly, he recalled that Hermione wasn't his only charge. "Max, where are the students?"
"Max is having fetched Madame Gresham, and she is getting everyone back to the Express."
"Excellent thinking," he praised absently, pondering the course forward. "Please also inform Minerva that there has been an incident, and that I will speak to her as soon as possible. And tell the students that everyone is to stay on the train until further notice."
"Yes, Headmaster." With a deep bow, the elf disappeared.
"What can I do?" Severus asked as Hermione started to pull herself into a sitting position.
"Help me stand, please." She was as wobbly as a newborn foal, and as her silk dress slithered down her legs, he became aware that it was ripped down one side and barely keeping her decent. Hurriedly summoning one of his wool robes and draping it over her shoulders, he held her waist steady as she struggled to get her arms into the full sleeves.
Gingerly, Hermione ran a tentative hand over her throat, wincing. "How bad?"
"Nothing permanent, but it's already rather… colourful."
She cleared her throat, face pinching with pain as it worked the muscles. "Can I take anything else?"
"Only another dose of a mild analgesic. I want to wait until all the other potions have cleared your bloodstream before administering anything stronger. Do you want it?"
She nodded, staring at her shaky hands blankly; half the nails were broken down to the quick, and there were faint smears of blood covering the digits.
"How does the rest of you feel?" he asked, hoping to distract her as he readied another measure of painkiller. She had to be absolutely covered with contusions, he knew, recalling the unnatural fashion in which she had been bent backwards over the desk.
"I hurt."
Handing her the phial, he watched her try to get the liquid down without choking. It was a painful process for the both of them, and Severus found himself having to unclench his fists as the anger crept back in.
If I see that man again…
"Say the word," he whispered, blood pounding loudly in his ears, "and I'll kill him. Slowly. Quickly. Your choice… it doesn't much matter to me."
Hermione stared at him for a long moment before placing a hand over his heart. "As much as I appreciate the sentiment, your soul is worth far more then Buffone's life." As unsteady as her voice was, her manner brooked no argument.
Covering her hand with his own, he spoke. "As you wish."
She sagged a little then, and Severus pulled her back into his arms.
The next question was hard to ask. "Do you want me to go and fetch Potter? It can be done discretely."
"No. Not if you will stay." Her arms tightened around his waist, and he found that just holding her helped to quiet the fury within.
"I meant what I said earlier," he confirmed quietly, stroking down the length of her spine. "I'll leave when you want me to, and no sooner."
"Then you may be stuck with me far longer than you'd wish," she replied softly, making no move to pull out of his arms.
"That's highly unlikely."
They stood together for several minutes, Severus finding as much comfort in the embrace as Hermione was.
"Let's go do this," she finally sighed, straightening up, "before I chicken out entirely."
The moonlight was bright and full in the cloudless midnight sky. Severus exited the coach first, descending the stairs and then turning back to proffer his arm. Hermione stepped down, still clad in his overly-large black robe. She carried herself with all of the grace and defiance of a young queen; her bearing screamed that she was not to be treated like a victim. In the shimmering light of the moon, her skin was a luminous white but for the blooming bruises ringing her throat in a macabre necklace.
Maxime took a gliding step forward, her large eyes locked on the obvious finger marks. The low rumble that followed sounded like the approaching thunder of a storm.
"Forgive me, Hermione, for allowing you to come to such harm while you were under my protection. He will pay for his crimes, that I vow."
Hermione's lips thinned momentarily. "I don't hold you responsible, Maxime. Buffone made his choices, and he alone should atone for them."
There was a discreet cough from behind the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, and she moved to one side, revealing two additional people.
"Professor Granger, Headmaster Snape, this is Capitaine Rousseau, of the Gendarmerie Départementale. He will be leading the investigation, and working with Madeline Marcos, representing our Ministry of Magic."
Rousseau bowed. "I understand that this has been a very difficult evening, and we will take as little of your time as possible. We only need to your statement, as well as to collect some evidence from your person."
Instinctively, Hermione's eyes flickered to his, and he could tell that despite her bravado, she was floundering. Severus took over.
"Maxime, if you would be so kind as to cast some privacy charms, I believe that we can accommodate Capitaine Rousseau and his colleague right here."
"But of course," she replied and withdrew her wand.
Likewise pulling out his wand, Severus added another chair to the paisley garden set, and enlarged two of the seats. With another flick, he conjured several floating constructs of bluebell fire, a pleasant wash of heat rolling over the group. Leading Hermione over to the loveseat, he gestured for everyone to sit.
"Professor Granger, I need to cast two spells in order to collect the physical evidence. Perhaps we can do that now?" Rousseau smiled apologetically.
"Yes," she answered. "What exactly do you need?"
"I simply need you to stay still until they are complete. The spells will take less than half a minute; the first will record your injuries and what medical treatment you have received in the last four hours, and the second will gather any other evidence of the attack, such as blood or skin that may be on your person."
She nodded, gaze again seeking Severus out once again. "Please proceed."
Rousseau cast the spells with the ease of someone who had preformed the task many times over. As the magic swept over her, ruffling the robes and her hair, Hermione stiffened.
"Steady on," Severus murmured, and soon as Rousseau indicated he was finished, took Hermione's cold hands within his own. Giving a grateful squeeze, she moved closer, robe brushing against his boots.
"Should you wish to cast a cleansing charm, or even go bathe, we would be happy to wait." Madeline Marcos spoke for the first time, voice sympathetic in the dark.
"Severus," Hermione began, a faint edge of distress appearing. "I don't know where my wand is…"
Maxime pulled Hermione's wand from her pocket. "I have your wand, cherie. Our Elves recovered it for you."
"Thank you." She turned back to Severus. "Would you mind casting a cleaning charm? I don't trust my magic quite yet."
"Of course." Hitting them both with a vigorous scrubbing spell, Severus guided them both into the loveseat and turned to face the investigators expectantly.
Madeline Marcos let out a soft sigh, perching herself an opposing chair. "Professor Granger, if you couldbegan by giving us a bit of background…"
Twenty minutes later, Hermione was calmly narrating her perspective of the duel.
"…and then he cast Dolohov's curse—do you know the proper name of it, Severus?"
He looked at her inquiringly. "The reducto variant with the purple flame?"
"Yes, that was the one."
"No, it has a Serbian name I can't remeber off hand."
Rousseau nodded. "We know which one you speaking of. By coincidence, both of us were spectators tonight."
"I was hit with that particular curse when I was sixteen, and hurt badly. I can only assume that Buffone chose it for the same reason that he started with the reptilian hex…" She shrugged. "I panicked a bit—he had been aiming for Severus—and so I threw out a spell of my own creation."
"Please explain."
"I developed a spell that mimics a cross been a Remembrall and Boggart. It's to be used in therapeutic situations, allowing the user to see their worse fear in more controlled fashion."
"That would be the silver disk at the end of match?"
"Yes. But I cast it in such a way that only he could see his fear…" Her voice cracked suddenly. "When I was in the library he said… he said that was why he attacked me. Because I had shown everyone what he was afraid of. But I don't even know what it was that he was afraid of..."
"And did you have any contact with Buffone after the duel?"
"No. Not until we returned to the ballroom."
"Describe the events of the dance once you met with Buffone."
"Severus and I had been dancing when Maxime came over. She said that Buffone had some questions about my charms work, and that someone else wanted speak with Severus. We separated, and then Buffone offered to fetch me a drink. He first asked about the palm fronds in my hair, and then I started to feel… off. It all happened very quickly. By the time I realized that he had drugged me, he had gotten me down a back hallway and I was on the verge of passing out."
"To the best of your memory, can you repeat what he said to you?"
Hermione closed her eyes, struggling to pull the recollection from the haze of fear and pain. "He took my wand and threw me into a desk. And then he said, 'You humiliated me in front of the world, and you dare ask why. You showed them everything, you showed them my soul and my fears…" Her fingers tightened on Severus' almost painfully. "Then he said something about me mocking him, and that I would fear him."
"And then?"
"Then he began to choke me."
Her composure abruptly fled, and Severus could see that she was one the verge of breaking down again. "That's enough," he told the investigators flatly. "I would be more than happy to give you my memories of remainder of the evening, but any further questions will have to wait."
Marcos and Rousseau glanced at each other, and then Marcos spoke for the two of them. "I think we have more than enough evidence, Headmaster."
"Tell me of the investigation," he ordered, not caring if it came across rudely.
"It will likely be late sometime tomorrow before we can interview Buffone." Marcos raised a brow, something chiding entering her expression. "You broke every bone in Buffone's face, Headmaster Snape, and he might yet lose the sight in one eye. It will take sometime before he is awake."
"However," Rousseau interjected smoothly, "as you were acting in clear defence of Professor Granger, you will not be brought up on assault charges for Buffone's injuries."
"I would hope not," Severus said coolly, and Maxime chuckled nastily.
"And as this is my school, and firmly under my jurisdiction, I would not allow it." She brought on heavy hand down with a smack for emphasis. "Not to mention the Italian Minister of Magic has already said that he will not fight me on any decisions made concerning that animal."
Marcos gave a shallow nod of acquiescence. "Regardless, Buffone's Apprentice has been questioned and was also rather forthcoming with information that will aid in prosecution. As you suspected, the pair did do research into both of your backgrounds, and their use of certain dark spells was no coincidence. He claims, however, that he was unaware of Buffone's plan to attack Professor Granger, and at the moment, we are inclined to believe him. Once Buffone is awake and we can question him, he'll be charged in the upper court…"
Despite the heat from the bluebell globes, Hermione had started to shiver next to him. He decided that it was time to end to evening. "I am satisfied that the appropriate actions are taking place. We can discuss the finer legal details later tomorrow," Snape cut in. "Or rather, later today."
Maxime apparently agreed with his assessment because she rose swiftly, and the two investigators had no choice but to follow her lead. "I will ensure that you will not be bothered until you are ready to face the attention. I will also have my personal elf, Bisou, listen for you. If there is anything you require—anything at all—please ask her to fetch it, or to summon me."
"Thank you, Maxime. If you will excuse us, it's past time that we should retire."
Murmuring low platitudes, Rousseau and Marcos departed with Maxime, and Severus steered Hermione back into the Express.
Madame Gresham was waiting for them in the hallway, wringing her hands. When she saw Hermione, she blanched. "So, the students had the right of it. Buffone did go mad."
"Unfortunately," he responded, keeping an arm around Hermione.
The older woman visibly rallied. "Well, I've got all of the students back in the carriage and off to bed, is there anything else I can do?"
He glanced over to Hermione, and she shook her head. "No, but if you could supervise the students in the morning, we would appreciate it. I doubt we will be up as early as they will."
"Not a problem," Madame Gresham replied. "I'll keep them corralled for as long as needed."
"Thank you," Hermione said, offering a faint smile.
"Of course, dearie. Don't hesitate to wake me if you do need something." With that, she bustled off, leaving the two of the standing in the corridor alone. Hermione looked absolutely terrible, and Severus could read her expression well enough.
"Do you want me to stay with you tonight?"
She nodded, appearing relieved that she didn't have to ask.
"My room or yours?"
"Yours."
Thankfully, his door was only a couple of steps away, and he ushered her in, feeling a touch of relief as he shut the door. With a wave of his hand, he activated both the security wards for the Express and the privacy protections for his room.
"Do you want to shower or anything?"
"No, I just need to change. You?"
He snorted. "No. Why do think I hit us both with the cleansing charm?"
"My, aren't we efficient… Millie," she called softly, and the elf popped into the room. "Could you retrieve my night gown, a fresh pair of nickers, and my tooth brush?"
In a flash, the elf retuned with a small bundle, and Hermione made her way into his bathroom. Keeping an ear out in case she needed something, Severus dug through his laundry to find his track pants and a t-shirt. Hastily, he stripped off his dress robes and got into the more causal clothes.
Emerging from the bath, Hermione wobbled over to his bed and sunk down on it gratefully.
"I'll be right back," he told her, and completed his nightly ablutions in record time. She was still sitting up when he padded back in, and he started to pull the blanket back. "Come on, let's get you to bed."
"Thank you," she whispered, eyes turning shiny again. "I'm sorry that I'm being such a bother…"
Sliding under the blanket himself, Severus pulled her close. "None of that, Hermione. You aren't being a bother, and you've done nothing to warrant an apology." He extinguished the light, hand finding hers in the dark. "Besides which, do you really think that I'm going to complain when you are in my bed?"
That earned him a weak chuckle. "When you put it that way, no." She sighed and moved closer. "Do you know where he might have learned it? Dolohov's curse, I mean."
It took a moment to follow her train of thought. "I hadn't realized that Buffone used the same curse that you were hit with in the Department of Mysteries until you mentioned it… but to answer your question, it's a fairly common spell that is taught at most of the Eastern European schools. Durmstrang teaches it, I believe. It's not terribly arcane."
There was a pause, and Hermione's voice became heavy with sleep. "I liked the snake balloons."
"I liked your shields. They were works of art."
"…wasn't going to let him touch you…" Hermione's breathing hitched, and then levelled out as she slipped into oblivion.
But I let him get to you, Severus thought with a flare of guilt, and wrapped himself more protectively around her.
Hermione woke to the unfamiliar heat of another body next to her. Carefully opening her eyes, she found that she was curled next to Severus.
Propped up on one arm, he was watching her. He was distinctly scruffy, the beginnings of a beard darkening his jaw and black hair sticking out at odd angles. From Severus' dishevelled appearance, she doubted that he had slept at all. She felt a great wave of affection for him; she would be in far worse shape—both physically and mentally—had it not been for his constant care.
"Morning," he rumbled cautiously. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a hippogriff," she replied, trying to figure out how the hell she was going to get out the bed to use the toilet without crawling or being carried. From her right big toe to every single curl on her head, she throbbed with pain.
Rolling to reach the bedside table, he plucked up an amber vial and handed it to her. "This should do the trick."
Wordlessly she drank it, surprised at the mild, pleasant hazelnut flavouring. Within seconds, a gentle heat seemed to emanate from her stomach outwards, and her muscles relaxed even as her focus sharpened.
"Wow," Hermione marvelled, flexing her feet. "That's quite the brew. Something of your own devising?"
He nodded. "Yes. I created it after one too many bouts with Cruciatus. It can only be taken once a day, but it's designed to be long lasting." He paused, eyes flicking to her throat. "I also have some bruise paste that will get rid of the remaining pain and discolouration."
Automatically, her hand crept to her neck. "Thank you… I think I'd like to take a shower before anything else." Hermione gingerly started to push herself up, expecting a wave of pain. But there was none, and she got out of the bed with a minimum of fuss.
"God, that really is brilliant stuff. It could raise the dead…"
Severus smirked. "In part, it did."
He rose from the rumpled bed, self-consciously smoothing his hair and shirt. "We should also speak to the students sometime this morning about what happened. They still don't know anything beyond the rumours."
"Agreed. I just need a bit of time to figure out what I want to say, first. I'll have a better idea after I get myself presentable."
"Very well. Shall I order breakfast?"
She swallowed experimentally, but there was only moderate pain. Severus' potions had healed the vast majority of her injuries. "Yes, I should eat. So, shower, change, eat and then we'll speak to the students?"
"That sounds like a plan," he agreed. Walking over to the door, he opened it and gazed down the hallway. "The coast is clear."
"Thank you, Severus," she repeated, squeezing his arm before making her way to her compartment.
Hermione stared at the mirror in shock; she had known it was bad- she'd been there, after all- but seeing the livid marks of Buffone's attack on her flesh was still profoundly disturbing. She could make put the individual finger marks wrapping around her neck, and her eyes were completely bloodshot from petechial haemorrhaging. Looking down at her naked body, she counted six broad areas of bruising.
Oh, god… I almost died!
The memory of unfriendly hands ghosted over her skin, and she gripped the sink, trying to bring her rapid breathing under control. I'm not doing this, she thought frantically. I'm not going to let this take over my life!
It took almost a minute to open the jar of bruise paste because her hands were trembling so hard; scooping up a sizeable glob, she started to smear it over her throat and face. Slowly, the purple and black marks began to fade. By the time that she had begun to apply the paste to her backside, she had calmed enough that she needn't lean on the sink for support.
I am not letting this take over my life! she vowed again, and reached for her clothes.
Emerging forty minutes later looking far more put together, she knocked at Severus' door. He answered it similarly refreshed, and motioned her inside. Breakfast was laid out at the small table by the window, and her stomach gave a hungry growl.
As he was pouring the tea, he winced a bit, and she glanced down. Both sets of knuckles were swollen and bruised, and she gasped.
"Severus, what happened to your hands?"
He looked blankly at her for a moment. "You don't remember?"
"No," she shook her head, and swiftly accio'd the bruise paste from his bookcase.
"I beat the shite out of Buffone after I pulled him off you." He couldn't quite make eye contact as he said it.
"Give me your hand," she requested softly, and he complied reluctantly. Opening the jar, she began to rub the paste into the puffy joints. "Why did you leave it like this? Doesn't it hurt?"
"Not much. You don't need to go to all that trouble, Hermione."
"Yes, I do," she argued, taking care to cover every inch of skin with the pale blue substance. "You were my champion last night. Surely you won't deny me this one service?"
"No, I won't." Severus exhaled. "But I should be begging you for your forgiveness instead."
Hermione stopped, cradling his warm hand in hers. "What are you talking about?"
Severus had gone very still. "It's all my fault that Buffone attacked you."
Her gut twisted uncomfortably at his guilty tone. "How do you figure that?"
"The man was a braggart and fool; everyone could see that. I should not have challenged him over mere words. There was no need to get so bent out of shape. It's just…" He stopped, and pushed his hair out of his face with an angry swipe, "as I said earlier, I knew plenty of people on both sides who could have been duelling champions given a chance and were killed in pointless and terrible fashions. They were my friends, and to hear their lives and deaths be dismissed so offhandedly… it made me angry."
"How does that make you responsible for what happened?"
He sent her a chiding look. "It was bad enough that I challenged him publicly, but during the match, I deliberately toyed with him. I wanted to show off… for you. For them. I could have beaten him within the first two minutes had I so chosen. Instead, I humiliated him. Had I not done that..." His hand tightened over hers. "Forgive me, Hermione, for making you a target and putting you at risk."
Emotions and sentiment flooded her, and it took a full minute to find her voice. Oh, you stupid, sweet man… "No, I will not forgive you," She had to grip his hand hard to keep him from pulling away. "You did nothing that needs forgiveness! Without you… I would be dead. He would have killed me-"
"Hermione-" he softly tried to interrupt.
"No," she interjected firmly, cutting him off. "You listen to me, Severus Tobias Snape, if I don't get to apologize for being a bother, then neither do you. This wasn't your fault any more than it was mine! If we want to play the blame game, then it is I that should be found guilty. I'm the one that shamed him by making him think that his fears had been exposed in front of the entire world. I was the one stupid enough to accept a drink, and I let myself be dragged off by him…"
Her own rage came flying out. "But it wasn't my fault. Fabrizio Buffone is the one who is a mental fucking bastard. He's the one that has no control; he's the one that lost the sodding plot completely. He chose to do bad things… It wasn't my fault, and it certainly wasn't yours!"
Realising that she was nearly shouting, Hermione took a calming breath and tried to reach for some humour. "If I hear you spout such nonsense again, I'll paddle your behind."
Severus' mouth quirked, and his eyes were noticeably lighter. "Is that supposed to be a punishment?"
"I'll make it one," she promised tartly. "Now, give me your other hand."
His compliance was far speedier this time around. Carefully, she applied the bruise paste, greatly enjoying the tactile sensation that it produced. He has such lovely hands… fine-boned and narrow, they were what her grandmother might have referred to as pianists hands. They were strong, and she could tell they that were superbly flexible; the faint scars marks of his profession spoke to how often he relied upon their deftness. Lingering, she took her time, running her own slippery fingers over his joints in easy, long swipes.
When Hermione finally looked up it was to find his watching her with such fire in his eyes that it stole her breath. I want him, said the small part of her brain still capable of coherent thought. And then: Oh. I think I'm in love with him…
It was a startling revelation, and not. He had saved her life several times, but more than that, Severus had been an absolute rock over the last several months. He was her friend, and his all-around brilliance was undeniably sexy. Yes, he was sarcastic and temperamental, but he was also incredibly loyal. And now that she'd been given the chance to know a bit of him…
Some of her feelings must have been showing on her face, because for a moment he looked as startled as she felt. And then he leaned forward and kissed her.
It was a tender, ravenous touch of lips, and her eyes fluttered shut as he increased the pressure. His beautiful hand, still slick with bruise paste, caressed her cheek gently. For a brief moment, she felt a glorious swell of lust, and then it all came crashing down upon her. Severus' hunger—his need—seemed to tower above them, and her heart took off with a sickening lurch as anxiety clawed her.
Hermione pulled back with a gasp, sweat suddenly covering her brow and limbs shaking. Severus looked stricken, and it took all of her control to not push the chair over and run for cover. The tsunami of sentiment proved to be too much; tears started rolling down her face, and Hermione collapsed in on herself, feeling utterly wretched.
"I'm sorry," she cried, unable to stop weeping. "I'm such a horrible tease!"
"Sweetheart," he began, reaching for her before yanking his hand back. "You're not horrible…"
"Yes I am," she gasped, knowing she was seconds away from going into a full-blown panic attack. "Severus..!"
"Look at me," he ordered fiercely. "Hermione, look at me!"
Six years in Severus' classroom ensured that she obeyed, and the instant she made eye contact with him, she felt his mind enfold hers. It was as if he slammed the door on all that overwhelming emotion; it was still there, but it couldn't touch her.
Tentatively, she reached her hand out to him, and was relived to find that his touch once again felt safe. Hermione took a shuddering breath in as he pulled away from her mind. "I'm sorry, Severus. I don't think—I know you won't hurt me but… I just can't… do that. Not right now."
He swallowed thickly. "I understand."
And then she really did feel like the worst sort of heel. Looking down and biting her lip in an effort to stop her tears, Hermione tried to calm herself.
"Hermione," he said softly, tugging at her hand. She glanced up miserably. "I do understand. You just need your body to belong to you for awhile."
"Exactly," she agreed, stunned that he could so easily put into words what she couldn't even articulate to herself. "How do you..?" His suddenly weary expression gave her the answer; clearly, he had gone through enough similar experiences to understand her anxiety. "Oh. Right."
"I've been down this path before," he confirmed dryly, expression softening. "So I don't want you to think you're being a tease, or any such nonsense. You are worth the wait, and I'm not going anywhere." A thread of black humour appeared. "Even if I have to drink impotence potions by the litre, I'll have patience."
She laughed at that, and picked up her napkin to dry her face.
He flexed his fingers experimentally. "Thank you for treating my hands, Hermione." Voice noticeably drier, he continued, "now eat your breakfast. We need to speak to the students and Minerva."
A/N: See, I *didn't* make you wait forever and day, and I didn't end on a cliffe! That being said, I've literally just finished typing this, and it's not gone through the normal SPaGy/error checking process. I'm sure that errors abound. Once I finish responding to all of your lovely comments, I'll fix any issues. If you see something wrong, please let me know.
Many, many thanks to Brightki, CathyM (are you the Cathy I know IRL? Cause if so, howdy wonderful lady!), jenafirtree, a guest, SevvieLuscious, Saamon-sam, stexgirl2000, BigBangTheory, NCIS248, houstonclay, ndavis77, ConstanceScully, Nachtwens, windyshoes, mUmaRhz, pgoodrichboggs, RhodaBush, Onyx Obsidian, marzipan4, viola1701e , poppins8, sevslave1, Kailin, Fragilereality, and last but not least, the lovely and wonderful Christal.
One final shout out- the LiveJournal Snape Showcase has started, and the first eight entries (both fics and art!) have been fab. I encourage you all to check it out. Happy Reading!
