A/N: Augh, sorry it took so long to update. But this is a REALLY long chapter. I hope it makes up for it. Thank you for all the reviews! I hope you like. ^^~

Chapter Twelve: Hermione Wakes

[but first...Severus's point of view! 3]

While Hermione slept in the Hospital Wing, Severus found himself preparing for travel. He promised himself that he would not confront Mr. Granger as of yet. Soon though, he thought darkly. The man had such a great deal to answer for. But now was Mrs. Granger's time. He had decided while talking to Madam Pomfrey that he had better move the Muggle woman to Hogwarts. He wanted to have that accomplished first so that when charges were brought against Hermione's father, he wouldn't have the temptation to lash out at his wife. If she was as delicate and sickly as Hermione said she was, even a little trauma could potentially kill her.

So Severus found himself trudging down a dim, grungy street in the middle of the afternoon. He had canceled the rest of his classes for today, a decision he had no doubt had thrilled many of his students. Possibly the only children who enjoyed it were the ones in his advanced study group and the ones in NEWT-level Potions. He'd actually seen a first year Hufflepuff crying with joy at the news. Severus rolled his eyes. The Hufflepuff in question was dreadful, and her level of clumsiness almost rivaled Longbottom's. No wonder she was ecstatic at the thought of not having a chance to melt another cauldron or create another explosion.

Hermione did not live in a very nice part of town, he noted as he swung the front gate open. Presumably, her father was at work, leaving her mother home alone. If there was a nurse around, Severus intended to place both a Confundus and Memory Charm on him or her. Nothing wrong with the nurse believing that Mrs. Granger had suddenly been rushed to hospital or placed in hospice. What was the woman's name? He rummaged through his memory of Hermione's school file. Ah, yes. Her parents were Liam and Theresa Granger. Liam was a dentist. He wondered what Theresa had been before she fell ill. Perhaps a dentist as well? Or a schoolteacher? To have produced Hermione, he imagined at least one of them was rather bookish.

Rather than bother with knocking on the front door, he unlocked it with a silent Alohomora and stepped inside. The front hall was dark, but seemed rather clean, if only in a lackluster way. Severus realized it must be that way because Hermione cleaned it. Did she have to clean the whole house? he thought, slightly amazed. More irritation sparked at the thought of the child's father and he kept a close, white-knuckled grip on his wand. Better yet, he cast a Disillusionment over himself. There, that was better. Now if the Muggle was home, he wouldn't notice Severus and hopefully Severus could keep enough control over his temper not to kill the man summarily. Child abusers were the worst sort of creature. He thought with fiendish anticipation of what would happen to such a man in Azkaban. There had been few child molesters sent to wizard prison, but the ones who made it there hardly lasted even a week. The other inmates, desperate criminals though almost all of them were, could not stand the people who hurt children. He had heard it was similar in Muggle prisons.

He followed the muted sounds of music and tinned laughter. Someone must be watching Muggle television, he deduced. Unlike many wizards, Severus had a quite keen grasp on the Muggle world and Muggle technology. He'd had to.

He ducked into a room on the far right side of a dusty hallway. A woman sat up in bed there, propped up by many pillows. Her face was wan and tired-looking, eyes dull. He could see the resemblance to Hermione, though. This must be Theresa. She'd been a pretty woman once, before illness had ravaged her. She was watching a game show, he noticed.

He looked around once more and carefully listened. Nobody around. Nobody but Mrs. Granger. Good. He Disillusioned himself, coming back into view with a soft pop.

Mrs. Granger saw him and her mouth dropped open in shock, ready to scream.

"Please, Mrs. Granger, don't scream," he said swiftly. "I'm a professor at Hogwarts. Hermione's Potions professor. Remember? Professor Snape?"

Mrs. Granger sagged back against the pillows, one hand placed on her chest. Her color had completely drained away, and Severus felt himself start to worry that she would be all right or not.

"Professor Snape, you startled me," she said in a little, breathless voice. She sounded old and quite tired. Severus wasn't much of a Healer, but even he could feel the sickly waves of energy emanating from the woman. She was near death. This move to St. Mungo's came not a moment too soon, he realized, a little startled. Miss Granger was not prone to exaggeration, but he had thought that perhaps she just didn't understand her mother's illness. Now he realized that Mrs. Granger might not even live the school year out, if not given proper treatment.

"Forgive me, madame," he said smoothly, sliding his wand back up his sleeve with a swift, practiced movement. "I felt it easier to come upon you this way, where your neighbors will not see and gossip."

"They do love to gossip," she acknowledged with a weak little laugh. "Especially about gardens. I'm sorry to prattle on, Professor Snape. Are you here because of something to do with Hermione?" Her eyes looked worried, and he rushed to assuage it.

"No," he lied. Well, technically he wasn't talking to her now because of Hermione. If that evil arsehole she called a husband came home early, however...she would learn quite emphatically what her darling husband had been up to with Hermione.

"Miss Granger came to me and asked if I knew of anything in the magical world that could help you, Mrs. Granger," he explained, sitting by her bedside. She looked almost like an old woman, although he'd bet she wasn't much older than he was. Her eyes stayed attentively on him as she strained to listen. "And I think there is something that can. St. Mungo's Hospital."

"Oh, but...I'm not magic, Professor Snape," she protested, struggling to sit back up. "I'm a...a...what do you call them? A Muggle?"

"Yes, you're a Muggle, but you also have a witch for a daughter," he pointed out." And, particularly in a case like this, that makes you eligible to receive treatment."

"Oh," she faltered. Her eyes filled with tears. Severus felt his heart twinge at the look of pathetic hope spreading across the woman's features. She looked so much like Hermione.

"We need to leave now, though," he pointed out. "I don't mean to make this sound like a time-limited offer, madame, but every moment, you grow weaker. The Healers need to see you as soon as possible."

"But what about my husband? He'll miss me." Severus's lips thinned and he pressed them tightly together before they could spill out what he thought about her husband.

"St. Mungo's will send a representative to inform him what has transpired when he comes home from work," he explained patiently. Though he doubted he would be able to-he had to get back before Hermione woke up-he would have liked to see the look on the man's face. That sick look, wondering if his daughter had finally spilled all his rotten secrets. "He can even come and visit you," Severus told the woman.

"Well, all right, Professor," Theresa said, struggling to stand up. He moved smoothly to assist her, using wandless magic to assemble a suitcase of necessities for her.

"Shall we go, then, Mrs. Granger?" he smiled down at her, holding her tightly to one side, her suitcase in the other. Then they Apparated.

Hermione blinked slowly. Her bed felt soft and warm and comfortable. It definitely wasn't the thin mattress she owned at home, she decided, snuggling into its luxurious warmth. She must be at Hogwarts. But it didn't feel like the four-poster in her dormitory...

Like that the memories rushed back in and she blinked, feeling tears start in the corners of her eyes. Well, it was done. Professor Snape knew and now Madam Pomfrey. They knew what her father had done to her, what he still did to her. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She didn't want to wake up and see the looks of pity. They had been blessedly few from her Potions professor, but she didn't trust the bustling, plump nurse.

"Miss Granger, I know you're awake," Snape's smooth, drawling voice said above her. She opened her eyes and his features swam into focus.

"Professor?" she murmured drowsily, her tongue thick and clumsy in her mouth.

"Yes, Miss Granger," he said. "I'm here." His words were oddly reassuring and she closed her eyes for a moment, drawing quiet strength from his presence.

"Madam Pomfrey would like to check you over one last time," he told her. She nodded without opening her eyes. So that's why he'd reverted to calling her by her surname. She supposed it would seem a bit improper for him to refer to her as "Hermione," although she infinitely preferred it. It sounded so much more...friendly.

She felt a cool tingling go through her body as the diagnostic spell was cast. Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue as the results sprang up in glittering gold lettering.

"Physically, you're fine, Hermione," the Mediwitch announced. Hermione sat up, her head swimming, and blearily peered into the nurse's face.

"Mentally..." a brief look of sadness passed over the woman's face, and that dreaded tinge of pity appeared in her eyes. "Well, you will be fine, let's put it that way."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said, trying not to sound bored. She knew what was wrong with her. But she refused to go to St. Mungo's and get treatment. Nobody else was allowed to know. She hoped that no one even knew she was in the Hospital Wing; as far as she knew, no one else had come in. Of course, her friends had probably missed her, but if pressed, she could just say that she'd been feeling stressed and overworked and come to Madam Pomfrey for a bit of a checkup and a nap.

"Well, I can't keep you any longer," Poppy said with forced cheer. "Professor Snape, will you take Miss Granger to her dormitory?"

Hermione shot a pleading look toward her Potions professor. No, please no, she silently begged. Not that long, silent walk through the corridors, every student they passed staring in shock and avid curiosity.

"How about I Floo her to my quarters instead, Poppy?" Severus asked. "I don't believe Miss Granger wishes to parade herself through the corridors, especially in the company of such as myself." His words were biting with sarcasm, yet she could sense the concern beneath, warming her heart.

"Of course, Severus, if you think that's best," Poppy said. "You may use my personal Floo." She bustled off into her office and shut the door. They shared simultaneous sighs of relief, then Hermione blushed and Professor Snape laughed.

"Dreadful sometimes, isn't she?" Severus said. "I'll give you a few moments to get dressed." He promptly turned his back.

"Thank you, sir," she said, grateful for the courtesy. She struggled back into her clothes, leaving the hospital gown folded neatly at the bottom of the bed. Her hair was a bushy, bedraggled mess, and she silently gave up on it after a few half-hearted pats. Oh, well. She could comb it when she was back in her room, she supposed.

The journey through the Floo to his office passed much the same as the first time. Hermione bent over, coughing as soot settled over her in a thick cloud. Professor Snape flicked his wand at her and the soot disappeared.

"You don't like traveling by Floo, do you, Hermione," he said with a hint of humor in his voice. She shook her head, clasping her hands in front of her. Her fingers twisted around themselves in anxiety and she stared at the floor. She didn't know what she should do now. Leave and go back to the dormitory? Try and go to her last class of the day? She wasn't sure of the time, but she believed it was still before dinner. Professor Flitwick would be missing her.

"Come this way," Professor Snape told her, leading the way to a small, inconspicuous door set in the back wall of his office. He tapped the doorknob with his wand three times and murmured something Hermione couldn't quite catch. The door opened, letting through a sliver of light.

"My private quarters," he told her as she stepped into the slightly familiar suite of rooms that she had been in the night before. She hadn't realized where the entrance was, and thought herself foolish. Why wouldn't the entrance be from his office? Stupid girl, Hermione berated herself.

"Please, sit down on the couch, Hermione, I'll make us some tea," Professor Snape said, heading into the kitchen area. She perched on the edge of the sofa, clutching her book bag. Her thoughts swam in her mind, refusing to clarify themselves. She felt drained.

Professor Snape came back, balancing a small porcelain tray.

"I didn't know how you liked your tea," he said briefly. She picked up her teacup and added sugar, taking a tiny sip of the hot liquid and staring blindly down into it.

"I saw your mother today," Professor Snape said, startling her deeply. Her teacup shook and she set it back down on the tray, licking her lips. He had settled next to her on the couch, but far enough away that she didn't feel unnerved by his presence.

"My mother? Is she all right? Was-was my father there? Why were you there?" Her questions tumbled out of her mouth, one after the other. Severus placed a calming hand on her shoulder, quelling her.

"She's fine, Hermione," he told her quietly. "Your...father was still at work. I told your mother that she could go to St. Mungo's, that you had informed us of her illness, and finally, I Apparated her and some of her belongings to St. Mungo's. I imagine she's being processed now. Your father will be informed by a St. Mungo's official when he comes home of his wife's whereabouts."

"Oh, thank you, sir," Hermione exclaimed, trying to hold back her emotions. She felt relief, excitement, fear, and happiness all coiled together in one big knot.

"It was nothing," Professor Snape mumbled, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Now..." he took a rather long draught of tea and set his own teacup back down. "We need to decide what to do about your well-being."

"Sir?" she said nervously, her body tensing.

"You're almost sixteen years old, Hermione, I'm not going to treat you like you can't make decisions for yourself, or that you don't know what's best. On the other hand, you've been abused since you were a young child and I would venture as an almost definite fact that you really don't know what's best for yourself-at least in certain aspects.

"I know you don't want the Headmaster told, but this secret has to go beyond me and Madam Pomfrey. For one thing, she's a Mediwitch and they're almost obligated to inform the authorities of suspected child abuse cases. Only the fact that you have confided in me and that you're not in immediate danger has dissuaded her. But it won't for long. I'm sorry, Hermione, I know you don't want anyone to know."

Hermione gulped, her eyes stinging. She'd known in the back of her mind that it really couldn't stay a secret. But to hear him lay it out like that, so...bluntly, wounded her somewhere deep inside.

"I would also like to apologize, Hermione," Snape continued, still looking uncomfortable. "I really should not have made you drink that botched potion. It was through no fault of your own that the potion was ruined, and I admit that I let my feelings toward Potter cloud my judgment. Be that as it may, I am glad that this secret is out and that you won't have to go through any of it anymore. Your mother is being treated by the best Healers in the wizarding world. You're out of your father's hands, at least for the present, and I do intend to ensure that you never have to spend time with him again.

"But to do that, you need to tell someone else. If you don't feel that you can verbally express your story, I can provide a Pensieve for you to place those memories into...I know how difficult it was for you to tell me what had happened."

"I would prefer a Pensieve," Hermione managed to say, nearly inaudible. "I can't deny that, sir. But who would have to know?" She looked up, frightened, a pleading look in her eyes. Snape sighed, leaning forward a little.

"The Headmaster, for one. You are a pupil under his care, and you have been harmed. Although that harm did not happen at school, he still needs to know. From there, he shall probably inform a trusted Auror, who can keep things under wraps. At some point, you or the Headmaster may wish to inform your other teachers of at least the basic details, so they know what's been going on and that your work may not be up to as high standards."

An indignant squawk escaped Hermione's lips. No matter what was going on, she had always kept up with her work! Always!

She told him so, too, her lips trembling.

"I apologize, Hermione, you're right," Severus said, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "But still. Your teachers would appreciate knowing what's going on with you. You may also wish to tell your friends, although I would recommend only letting those you trust most know."

"Why, sir?" Hermione whispered, although she feared she already knew the answer.

"Children can be cruel, Hermione, you know that," he confirmed it. "I would not have you taunted and tormented for events beyond your control. I don't believe Potter or Weasley are in the not-to-be-trusted category, although, for instance, I would not tell the Weasley girl. She gossips incessantly."

"That's true," Hermione acknowledged with a wry quirk of her lips. Ginny didn't mean to, either, which was the problem. She just blurted things out. After a few slightly embarrassing confidences had made the rounds of Gryffindor House, most of Ginny's friends had learned not to confide anything truly intimate with her.

"Now," Severus said, taking his wand out again and looking at the time. "It's almost dinner time. Would you like to eat in the Great Hall? I would encourage you, to dispel rumors, but if you truly feel like you cannot, you can either eat in my quarters or in the common room of your House."

"I think I can eat in the Great Hall," Hermione said after a moment's deliberation. She rose from her seat, smoothing her robes down in a nervous movement.

"I would recommend that at least at dinner, you tell your friends you simply had a headache from nerves and overwork," the Potions professor advised her as he cleared the tea things away. Hermione nodded. She'd already had similar thoughts. The whole of Gryffindor did not need to know her innermost secrets.

"Then let's go," he smiled at her, and her heart tripped over itself. He looked almost like a different person when he smiled, she realized.

He opened the door into his office again and she filed out past him, ready to go to the Great Hall and face her friends.