Chapter 12 - Dangerous
Alana wasn't sure why she felt so nervous about going away with only Snape; she was, after all, used to spending a few hours in his presence about three times a week. But then, she was able to leave, to go back to her room; Snape would be there, all day. And at night. However, their uneasy friendship was going well and she didn't feel entirely uncomfortable in his presence; it might not be so bad after all, she thought as she headed to the dungeons.
He didn't say much as she came in, only gave her a small smile and let her carry on with the potion. After maturing for a two days it was bold fuchsia and smelt strongly of ginger. Alana picked up her tools, her ingredients and set straight to work.
Snape looked up to see Alana cutting something. "Are you all packed?"
Alana nodded, looking up with a smile
He smirked and couldn't resist an opportunity to tease her. "It's supposed to snow over the weekend, so I suggest you wear that tasteful blue and green sweater that you wore at Christmas."
"What?" Alana said, looking up, surprised.
"Ow!"
Snape looked up to see Alana backing away from the cauldron holding her hand. She was cussing under her breath. He rose, and walked quickly to the table.
"What is it?"
"I cut myself." She nodded towards the knife on the table. "I wasn't looking and I slipped."
"Let me see," he commanded, taking her hand. Alana winced as she let go of her fingers, and blood trickled down onto the stone floor. Snape frowned. She had cut from her index finger across the back, all the way to her ring finger.
"It's deep but it hasn't got the bone."
Alana swallowed, trying to ignore the rich smell of iron. Snape conjured a towel for her to hold on the wound. "You're bleeding a lot. You had better get to the hospital wing..."
Alana shook her head quickly. "No, no, no hospital wing. Absolutely not."
Snape stared at her. "Miss Cross, you're bleeding."
"No, I can't go."
"Then Madam Pomfrey will have to come here..." he started, letting go of her hand to go to the door, but she grabbed the cuff of his sleeve, smearing it with fresh blood.
"No! No...Don't get her."
"Miss Cross," he said, on the verge of being angry.
"Please," she said, half pleading, "Can't you treat it? It's not that bad. I really can't go near the hospital wing."
Snape stared at her bewildered.
"Miss Cross, I don't have any medical training. Madame Pomfrey will know what's ..."
"It's not that bad; really, I just bleed heavily. Even when I get a paper cut."
He looked at her eyes which were full of begging. She looked worried, frightened. Snape narrowed his eyes.
"Do you have a fear of hospitals?" he asked.
Alana looked away. "Yes, a little. Now, are you going to sort this out or not? Seeing as it was kind of your fault."
"My fault? I...". He suddenly saw her weak smile.
"You're joking," he said blankly, taking her hand once more and removing the towel.
"Well, half joking. You did distract me."
"You shouldn't be so easily distracted by me," he retorted without looking. "Lack of control was the cause of this." Alana swallowed hard.
Snape frowned. "I think I can just bandage it up. But it'll heal normally. I only know basic healing spells and this looks much more serious. If you saw Madame Pomfrey, it'd be gone in minutes..."
Alana glared at him.
"Ok, I'm sure there was a Muggle first aid kit in the cupboard." He rolled his eyes. "Merlin knows I may have thrown it out."
Minutes later, Alana was wincing as he cleaned the wound with a strange, foul smelling antiseptic. It wasn't as deep as he'd first thought but it was red and angry, and she didn't lie when she said she bled a lot.
"I think the best I can do is bandage them. I'm not sure I can stitch the wound. If it even needs that."
Alana just nodded and looked away. Her cut felt hot, and was throbbing from the sting of the antiseptic; Snape's fingers were cold and brought a mild relief.
Snape frowned the whole time. Alana's eyes fell to the cuff of his white shirt where her own blood was drying in a violent burgundy. She didn't know whether he had noticed but she didn't feel able to speak.
"So," he said finally taking a bandage from a packet. "When did you become afraid of all forms of medicine?" His tone was musing, and Alana could see a small sparkle in his eyes.
"This isn't funny."
"I never suggested it was."
Alana frowned. "Well, I went to a hospital with my father when I was very young, about five I think, and it was...just...a really awful experience for me. I didn't like it; it smelt of death and people were watching their loved ones get sicker and sicker, and I hated it. It got worse when I had an accident...with a broom...and I woke up in La Coeur de Sacre in France. The doctor was...vile."
She gave a small shudder that she didn't think Snape had noticed, but as he was wrapping her hand, he felt it. He paused, but then continued winding the bandage around her fingers.
"It's not bleeding now; it isn't too tight is it?" he asked as he started to tie it.
"No, it's fine."
"Then it's finished," he said weakly. They both looked down at her fingers; the startling white of the cloth against her red fingernails. Snape wiped them with the cotton wool he'd been using to clean the wound.
"There," he murmured, running his thumb gently along the top her wound. Alana froze, holding her breath, which Snape also felt. He let go of her hand quickly and rose.
"You should rest; we need to leave early tomorrow, remember." His voice was cold and harsh; familiar to Alana's ears. It was the tone he had spoken to her with before their trip to Hogsmeade. She hated it.
"Fine, thank you," she clipped back, being careful not to bash her hand as she grabbed her things.
The potion was left, uncompleted.
***
Alana winced as she stepped into the common room. Her hand hurt; it was throbbing madly now and she was sure as she'd flexed it coming up the stairs, the wound had ripped open. Blood was the last thing she needed. Hermione was still awake when she got back, and gasped when she told her about her hand, and scolded her for not going to the hospital wing. Alana shrugged, and told her she didn't think it was that bad, and Snape had done a pretty good job. Hermione eyed her up.
"Don't you feel weird going with Snape? Alone?" she whispered, even though everyone was asleep.
"Majorly," Alana admitted.
"I mean, won't it be awkward. He's always so nasty."
"Oh no," Alana whispered, "That's not a problem. He's actually...nice...to me. Occasionally." She paused. "The problem is just...being alone with him."
Hermione looked at her. "Do you..."
"Oh!" Alana looked shocked. "No! Of course not."
Hermione smiled. "I always thought he kind of had the whole brooding teacher thing going for him."
"I guess..."
"Not that I'd mention it to the guys. Especially not Harry," she added.
"Well, even if I did...you know...he's a teacher. That's weird, right?"
"Hmmm," Hermione mused, "but we won't always be students."
Alana frowned at her, and made Hermione giggle. She rose and yawned. "I'm kidding. People get so shocked when I say things like that. I'm off to bed. You coming?"
Alana nodded. "In a few minutes."
When Hermione had gone up the stairs to the girl's dormitory, Alana looked down at her fingers. It had been nice hadn't it, she thought, to have him holding her hand, if not only to sort a wound out. And what of him brushing his thumb on her hand? At the time it had felt like an affectionate gesture, but afterwards, the coldness, she had felt like it were her fault somehow.
***
Snape finished packing before he allowed himself, weary and emotionally drained, to crawl into bed. He had felt optimistic about the trip, but now, now he felt like it would be suicide. A few brief days of functioning around her, being able to joke, and be fairly kind, all gone in a few seconds. Fool that he was! He had let go of himself for a moment; she was hurting and in need, and although he hadn't meant to...touching her skin was like euphoria. And it had felt natural. Seeing her blood spilling on the floor had tore through him. And her story about her phobia; she broke through him in so many ways, on so many levels.
She was dangerous.
Snape tried to shut his eyes but he knew what was coming. His dream waited for him.
