A/N: OK, we have to keep a few balls in the air in this chapter and get some important set up done.
Chapter Twelve
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In one easy motion Hermione was swept up, her arms clamped around his neck, her head tucked firmly under his chin. Without a word he carried her out of the infirmary, down the steps and to the gargoyle outside Professor McGonagall's office. Upon their approach, the gargoyle jumped aside without a password and she felt them riding the spiral staircase. His grip never faltered.
And she hated it.
She hated needing this from him. She was supposed to stay the hell out of his life. After what she'd done, nothing else was excusable.
But damn him, he was right, as usual. She couldn't have stood staying at the Burrow or even the infirmary. Having women – even women she loved and respected- fussing over her just made it worse. It all kept flashing back. His wand at her throat, the sound of him ripping her beautiful dress.
His mouth on her.
She shuddered involuntarily and his arms tightened in response. She felt his head tip down to look at her, but she couldn't meet his eye. With a slight shift of her weight, he tossed the powder in the hearth and carried her into the flames.
They stepped out into her cottage kitchen and he set her gently onto a chair. With an elegant wave of his hand a tea tray appeared before her. "Chamomile. Try to drink at least one cup. I will start a bath for you."
She had replaced his cloak around her after Mrs. Weasley had insisted on putting her in Ginny's clothes. She tugged it tighter around her and numbly watched the steam curl up from the spout of the teapot.
"Hermione! To me!" Professor Snape's voice was tight and commanding. Afraid?
Gods, were there more? With a start, she remembered she was wandless. A strangling panic rose in her throat as she darted out of the kitchen into the dark hall. She collided with him and he pinned her to his back, putting himself between her and whatever he was aiming at. His wand arm was outstretched in front of him, menacing the opposite end of the hall. She peeked between his elbow and ribs.
The hallway was empty.
He turned slightly and changed his grip, hugging her to his side as he backed toward the kitchen. He whispered urgently, "Be ready."
Her breath was coming in little gasps, "What is it, Professor? I don't see anything."
"Hermione!" A feminine voice hissed from the far end of the hall. "Oh thank the Gods!" Esmeralda melted into view as her disillusionment charm fell away.
Hermione went boneless with relief. Snape's wand never faltered.
Esmeralda took a step toward them, pocketing her wand. "We heard what happened."
"Miss Granger, do you know this woman?" His voice was tight with control.
Reaching over gently, she pressed her fingers to his wrist, saying, "Yes, Professor. She's a... friend."
Snape finally relented and lowered his wand, but she noticed he didn't put it away.
"Professor this is Esmeralda Kniffit. Esmeralda this is Professor Severus Snape." Hermione took her seat in front of the tea tray and began to pour. Eventually two more chairs scraped out and they sat down.
Severus eyed her but said nothing, so Esmeralda plowed ahead, "Are you alright?"
Hermione's hands shook as she tried to pour out the final two cups of tea. Professor Snape reached over and took the pot, replacing it on the tray firmly. "It is very admirable that you are concerned, Ms. Kniffit, but frightening Miss Granger out of her wits by sneaking into her home under a disillusionment charm is hardly comforting. As she is in my care, I will draw her bath. I suggest you leave before I return." With that, he rose from the table and stalked out of the kitchen.
Hermione grimaced, "I'm sorry."
"No. He's right." Esmeralda pulled her silver hair down from it's bun and quickly retied it. She blew out a breath, "He doesn't know about us, does he?"
Hermione shook her head and stared into the bottom of the half filled teacup.
Esmeralda gave a short derisive laugh, "I guess we're lucky he didn't kill one of us earlier out in the garden. Not many wizards can see through a disillusionment charm." The older witch reached across the table, grasping Hermione's wrist, "I'm just glad you're alright. It's probably for the best he's here." She glanced back at the hall, making sure it was still empty, then whispered, "Full moon in two days."
Hermione's eyes got wide and she couldn't help looking across the table in alarm.
Esmeralda laughed, "We weren't going to leave you to fend for yourself. We do have a few potions. But now that he's here, perhaps it's better if we lay low for a bit. Floo me when he leaves and you need us. We'll be here."
Loud boots sounded out in the hall and Esmeralda released Hermione's wrist with a fond squeeze. "I'd better go. We'll talk soon." She slipped out the back door into the night.
Professor Snape entered the kitchen, his boots now soft as silk on the hard wood floors. "Your bath is ready. I found an assortment of nightwear. I didn't know which you'd prefer, so I placed them all on the sink. Go. I saw your small stocks in the study. I'll prepare you a sleeping potion."
Hermione stood, her feet automatically going to the hallway. At the door frame she turned around and whispered, "You don't have to do this."
He gave a dismissive gesture, saying, "Go. I will bring you the potion when you are finished."
She lowered herself into the steaming water and stared unseeing at the water tap. She was watching the horrible memories flicker by: his teeth, kicking him in the balls to get the wand away from her throat, the desperate wrenching struggle for his wand. She had won, but it had been a close thing, so very close.
The tap dripped. She blinked. She spotted the soap and flannel he must have left for her, right by the edge of the tub. She grabbed them and began to scrub every inch of her skin. She felt so dirty, so very dirty. As she savagely scrubbed herself silent tears tracked down her face.
A soft rap on the door.
"Miss Granger?"
She scrubbed until the new skin over her healing wounds was red and irritated.
Another rap, louder this time, more insistent.
"Miss Granger?"
She scrubbed until the teeth marks bled.
"Hermione? I will need to come in if you will not answer."
Now how would she ever be worthy of the type of love Severus gave Lily Potter? She couldn't get clean enough to get rid of his hands, his teeth, his breath in her face as he sneered, Death Eater whore. She told herself she would stay away from Professor Snape. She should have turned him away tonight. She never should have gone. But she wanted what he'd given to Lily so many years ago, and he was the only one she knew that was even capable of giving it. Even if it wasn't to her. Gods, that was messed up.
A sob broke through her furious scrubbing.
"Hermione! Open the door!" The doorknob rattled.
The bathwater was tinged pink. Her teeth marks at left breast and her neck were bleeding freely and still she scrubbed.
The door crashed open. She didn't stop scraping at her skin with the cloth. She didn't look up.
He wrenched the cloth from her frantic hand and threw it against the wall. It hit the tile with a splat, then flopped to the floor, pink soapy streaks racing down the wall behind it. When he bent to take her from the tub, she could only manage a weak "No." before she fainted dead away.
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She was under a velvet blackness. It was soft, warm and comforting. She heard a pop from a fire and realized she was in a bed. Without opening her eyes, she sank further under the covers. There was a whisper of fabric and something was placed on the table beside her. She cracked her eyes open.
It was almost dawn. A chair had been pulled up by her bedside. A tall figure was silhouetted by the fire. She struggled against whatever potion was coursing through her veins, trying to drag her back under into that warm oblivion.
The figure shifted and the small oil lantern next to her bed guttered to life. Professor Snape was sitting in a hard chair, his collar undone and his sleeves rolled up. He looked drawn and haggard. He took a glass from the night table, offering it to her, "Water?"
She nodded, her head felt three feet thick. As he brought the cup over, she tried to reach out, but her fingers, her hands felt funny.
"Let me." He slid an arm under her shoulders and tipped the glass to her lips.
She took a swallow, still trying to get her hands around it. They were covered in heavy wool socks. She frowned softly, her features still groggy. She forgot about the water glass and tried to tug the socks off her hands.
"Leave them." He had put the water glass away, and was separating her hands from each other. He tugged the socks back to her elbows.
She settled back into her pillow and looked at him. His dark eyes were watching her face very carefully. Her brow wrinkled in concentration, thoughts were dancing just beyond her reach. Every time she tried to catch one, it would turn to mist. "Professor, I..."
"Rest now. We'll talk in the morning." His long fingers smoothed the hair from her brow. The darkness tugged at her, the soft warmth whispered promises of floating on nothing. With him there, she gave in and let the darkness claim her.
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The sun was burning bright and golden through her windows. She shifted under the covers and her eyes blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the day light. The chair next to her bed was empty. She glanced at the clock on her bedside, it was just past eight.
Hermione sat bolt upright. "Oh gods! Work!" She was out of the bed like a shot, digging through her wardrobe in a frenzy. She couldn't be late on her first day.
A sharp knock sounded on her door, "Miss Granger?" Professor Snape was still here.
She yanked the socks from her hands, and let them fall. The blue robes or the brown? Gods, she wished she had a uniform. It was so much easier when she didn't have to choose.
The door cracked open as she was throwing the blue robes and a pair of sensible shoes out of her wardrobe.
"What are you doing?" His voice was clipped and tight.
She threw him a look, and dug through the drawers of her dresser. Knickers...knickers...
"I have to be to work in half an hour."
He shook his head, "That is unwise. You should be resting."
Hermione's voice was approaching panic, "Yes! Well! Bills to pay, you know." She realized she was in her pajamas. She drew on a dressing gown. The last thing she remembered was a bath. How...? She blushed.
He was frowning, "I will floo the Minister to make your regrets. Who is your supervisor?"
"No!" She squeaked. "No. I'll just go in for a few hours, Professor. I'm fine." Socks flew across the room to the pile on her bed. Gods, she didn't know why she couldn't just tell him. Somehow, she didn't want him to think less of her. From working at the Ministry, to a clerk in the back of a bookstore. How the mighty Griffindor had fallen.
He threw the bedroom door wide and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to stand still. "Stop this foolishness!"
She stopped, her fingers twisting together. She couldn't look at him.
"You no longer work for the Ministry. Where are you going?" His fingers gripped her shoulders firmly, but not harshly.
From somewhere deep within, her courage seemed to roar back, "I got a new job at Flourish and Blotts!" She twisted away from him and gathered her things. If he wasn't going to leave, she'd go into the bath and change.
His eyes flashed and he spat, "You would come out of your sick bed for a clerk position at Flourish and..."
"It was all I could find at short notice." Her voice was clipped, she stuffed her socks and shoes into the bundle in her arms and made for the door. Just as she was about to escape, he caught her arm.
"No." How could one word be loaded with so much meaning? Disappointment, anger, impatience.
"It's my first day, Professor. I have to go."She pleaded. No matter what he thought, the bills were still coming due and her purse was severely lacking.
"It is not worthy of your..." He broke off, releasing her arm but obviously thinking. "Get dressed, if you feel you must." She headed for the door and had almost made it when his voice continued, very silky and low, "But make no mistake, Miss Granger, you are under my care and you will not be leaving this house today."
