Standard Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, or form own Harry Potter, aside from awesome merchandise. I am merely playing with them, and, frankly, this damn story's been in my head too long. Since I don't own Harry Potter, if you think I'm making MONEY from this, well, enough said about the lack of intelligence. I'll just assume you're having some sort of delusion.
Author's Note: Hi. I'm waving at you, but you can't see it.
CHAPTER 11
His hand was cold, and so was the skin of his wrist as she slid up the cuff. Pressing her fingers to the veins there, she waited. He had a pulse! It was steady, but barely-there, and she hoped it was because he was sleeping. Smiling down at him a little sadly, she Her fingertips brushed against the wand in his sleeve with what felt like a static shock.
"Oh!" Hermione jerked her hand back, then cautiously slid her fingers back into his sleeve. What if he turned in his sleep and broke it? This time, there was no shock. Freeing the wand from the wool and linen, she grasped the handle.
It was warm, and felt...familiar. Like it recognised her? Not possible. She'd never touched it. She was even fairly certain he'd never used it on her, or even pointed it at her, for that matter. Professor Snape's wand was an item quickly flicked at shutters or a sputtering cauldron or chalkboards. Not even when he'd taught DADA did he wield it much. Were the dueling club and the cursed necklace really the only times she'd truly seen it?
Fairly certain, and with a whispered "sorry", Hermione swished his wand. It was comforting, having it in her hand, and it responded well, better than Bellatrix's. "I'm sorry, Professor – I need to get back to the school. May I borrow your wand? Just for a little while? I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise."
Predictably, there was no reply from the man in the bed, and she pocketed his wand. Rummaging through the nightstand, she located the stub of a pencil and a pad of paper that was most definitely stolen from a hotel (one of her father's penny-pinching habits), and left both Bellatrix's wand and a note for Professor Snape. If he turned his head, even a little, he'd see it, and know she was coming back, that she would take care of his wand, and she hadn't left him wandless in the interim.
She really just couldn't hear to use that crazy bitch's any longer, and even a small reprieve was appreciated.
Tucking the covers a little closer around him – he really shouldn't be so cold, she'd have to find her beaded bag with her books, refresh her knowledge of healing spells – and shutting the door quietly, Hermione made her way the bathroom, and nearly screamed in fright.
The last time in recent months that she'd seen her reflection had been at Bill and Fleur's, but only after she'd taken the swig of Polyjuice. She scarcely recognised herself! She was thinner than she remembered being, and her hair was (understandably) a worse mess than usual.
Or what had been usual, the last she'd stood in this room. The thought made her throat tight, and she set her jaw. No, they'd won – paid a price, but won – and she'd be damned if she was going to cry now because of her stupid looks. Quick cleansing charms on her clothes, a detangling one for her hair, and she felt a little more human.
Stooping, she dug through the cabinet under the sink and grinned at finding one of the pre-powdered toothbrushes. Now she could feel human! There was still a towel hanging off the door, and clean hands, face, and teeth had done wonders for her morale.
She cast a longing look at the shower, but it could wait. She should get back to Hogwarts, test the waters on Professor Snape. If he needed medical attention, which was likely, he'd be far better off with Madame Pomfrey or St Mungo's than with her. But if it wasn't safe, then there was no way in hell she'd let them take him. She'd smuggle him out of the country if she had to!
Being able to Apparate directly to Hogwarts had been a surprise – she hadn't realised how damaged the wards were. Usually, if you focused on Hogwarts, you'd land by the front gates, not the front doors. There was so much rubble, and it sent a pang to her heart to see her school, the place that had been her second home for almost half her life in near-ruins.
Most of the bodies had been taken, but a few, like the giants, or the suits of armor, remained. There was blood, too, and scorch marks, chunks of the stone missing from the ground, and suddenly she very much did not want to go inside.
"'But the grass is still green, and the sky is still blue; there's not excuse for not doing what you have to'," Hermione murmured, quoting her mother.
Cautious of debris, and one or two tapestry hooks that looked in danger of releasing from the stone onto a passer-by's head, she headed towards the Great Hall. It was likely that Harry was in the Gryffindor Common Room, but it'd been a few hours, so there were certain to be people there who could tell her for sure.
As she neared the Hall, however, Harry could be shouting at someone.
"Not the Common Room, then," she muttered.
"No, I don't know where he is!" Harry bellowed as she cleared the corner. "Besides, he's a hero, not some bloody villain - even if I did know, I wouldn't bloody tell you! "
Oh, Lord, they were talking about Professor Snape. One of the Aurors was looking surly and mutinous, and she remembered all too clearly the Shack, and the reason why Professor Snape was currently inhabiting her mum's guest bedroom.
"Harry?" she tried. It would be good to deflect things away from the professor.
"Fine, Potter," one of the Aurors, a heavyset man with a rather ridiculous, walrus-like mustache snarled. "But we'll be watching you. If you're harboring him, we're gonna find out, and 'saviour' or not, yer gonna pay!"
"Harry!" Hermione tried again. The Aurors and Harry all turned her way, and she flushed under the sudden scrutiny. "Sorry – I know I'm interrupting...Have you seen Ron?"
Harry's shoulders hunched. "Yeah, he went home, Ginny, too. They're going to - " his voice broke off a little, and he swallowed heavily. "They're going to start preparations for Fred's funeral."
"Oh, Harry..." a lump formed in her own throat. How had she been so selfish? Thinking only of Professor Snape and herself? How could she have forgotten about Fred? "I'm sorry..."
"S'alright," he said. "Did you get any rest?"
"Some," she replied, all too aware of the Aurors and their interest. "What did I miss?"
"Snape's missing."
"Professor Snape, Harry," she corrected automatically. After months of having to listen to Snape-this, Snape-that, she was glad to remind him of the respect the man deserved.
Harry gave her a wry grin. "Right. Professor Snape, then."
"Do they know where he is? He was pretty badly injured, he'll need medical attention." Just state facts, she told herself firmly. Don't expound like you would on an essay, just keep it short, don't make them suspicious...
"We started with where Potter said he'd be," interrupted the heavyset man's partner, a thin, reedy woman with thick glasses and an upturned nose. Definitely not the team that had come to the Shack. "All that was found was traces of Portkey magic."
Not my Apparition? Oh, thank God...
"Portkey? He had a Portkey?" That was Draco, butting in from across the hall. He looked awful; so did his parents, like none of them had slept. But they were still together, just sitting there with each other, being a family, for once.
"Don't tell him nuttin'," growled the heavyset man.
"Oh, budge over, Wallace." The witch was clearly exasperated. "They've been there the entire time, Death Eaters or no."
"He's my godfather," Draco sniped. "I have a right to know where he is and what you're doing to find him!"
"Draco, darling," Narcissa started softly. "Don't antagonise them. Severus can take care of himself."
It was odd, hearing Professor Snape referred to by his first name by someone other than the rest of the teaching staff.
"I know he can!" Draco was working himself into a huff. "We've told them and told them we don't know where he is! We've been here, in plain sight, for hours, and he's missing! According to Potter, he was injured and is gone and they're treating us like criminals! We should be finding him! Helping him!"
He cares, Hermione realised suddenly. She hadn't really thought Draco capable of it, but he seemed to really care about Professor Snape's well-being. Just like he'd cared about his mother, when Harry'd insulted her at the World Cup. She'd always known Draco was a human being, even if he was a prat, but seeing it demonstrated was something else.
But he did lie for us, she mused as Draco and Harry bickered with Auror Wallace and his partner. There was nothing he could have done to stop Bellatrix, and he just wanted his wand back, he said, in the Room... which was odd, to want it back so badly. Well, maybe not so odd, considering that she missed her own ivy wand.
"Shut it, all of you!" the thin woman roared, waving her arms and knocking her glasses askew. She straightened them with a glare. "Wallace, not another word out of you. Potter, shut it, I don't want to hear it. We don't even have a Minister yet to clear names. Malfoy, wand. Now. Your family's under house arrest until we do do have a Minister."
Draco sneered at her and handed her his mother's wand. "This is my mother's. My father's was taken by the Dark Lord this summer, and Potter has mine."
Chin held high, Draco spun and stalked back to his parents, where he regarded them haughtily. A real marvel, she thought wryly. She had no idea how he managed to keep such an air of superiority around himself.
"Now then," the Auror turned to Hermione. "Did you see anyone coming up to the Shack as you were leaving? He would have had to have been helped extremely quickly, with that much blood loss, even with a Portkey to the Malfoy's home."
"The Manor?!" Draco interrupted, leaping to his feet. He was quelled with a look that Professor Snape would have been proud of.
"We checked there – all we found was the expired Portkey and a bloody cravat. He wasn't there, not even your Elves had seen him." Those over-enlarged, bespectacled eyes focused back on Hermione. "Well?"
Hermione shook her head, thankful she could give an honest answer. "I didn't see anyone coming to the Shack, no. When we left, he was laying on the floor."
That was true. When they had left, all three, Professor Snape had been lying there.
She just didn't elaborate to include that when she'd returned, he'd been lying in the same place.
"Very well. We'll let you know, Mister Potter, if we find him, in any condition."
Hermione had a sinking feeling in her stomach that some of the Aurors would be searching like the pair from the Shack – with hopes of either finding or making a corpse.
The discussion with Harry and the Aurors had been enlightening, and with the threat that Harry would be watched, Hermione didn't want to risk telling him about Professor Snape. Knowing Harry, he'd nag her to tell him where it was, then run over to her parents's house, and camp by the man's bedside to apologise and ask questions about his mum.
She loved Harry dearly, but sometimes he was single-minded, and he really did try to do the right thing, even if it was really the wrong thing. Like breaking up with Ginny... or potentially annoying Professor Snape.
Worrying at her lower lip, Hermione headed towards the library, hoping both that it wasn't too badly damaged, and that Madame Pince wasn't there to ask questions. Harry hadn't followed her, something about making arrangements for Professor Lupin and Tonks, once Andromeda had escorted her sister and her family home to stop "those Aurors from thinking they can get away with any funny business."
Thankfully, the library was both deserted, and intact, a testament to the strength of Madame Pince's efforts to protect her books. Having retrieved her beaded bag, Hermione set about filching the healing books she thought she'd need, and a few on potions, as well as identifying them.
As she was leaving, a thought struck her. What if she dosed him with something he was allergic to? What if he had medical needs she was unaware of? Her dad had had a patient once who hadn't bothered to filled in the allergies section of the new patient form, and while the man had lived, it'd been a lesson for all of them – better safe than sorry. Agitated, she shifted from one foot to the other before resolutely turning towards the Hospital Wing. She'd have to either confide in Madame Pomfrey – unwise, they'd probably assume he'd go to her for medical aid first – or steal Professor Snape's file.
The Hospital Wing was quiet – sleeping injured in cots here and there, including Lavender Brown, and Felicity, from Ravenclaw. There were some of the Slytherin students who'd returned en masse from Hogsmeade in some of the cots by the wall, but all were still asleep, and Madame Pomfrey was standing at the foot of one of them, checking a chart.
Barely daring to breathe, Hermione darted into her office, and raised Professor Snape's wand, casting a swift silencing charm. "Accio Severus Snape's medical files!"
There was a rumble before the cabinet spat two files out at her whispered spell, and she stashed them quickly in her bag and cancelled the charm. Poking her head out first to see Madame Pomfrey busy casting what must have been a diagnostic on a sleeping Hufflepuff, Hermione ran lightly out of the office, out of the hospital wing, and Apparated home between one step and the next.
There, now. Hope that was worth the wait? :)
I apologize for any errors (please feel free to correct me) – I've caught a cold, and feel like crap right now.
