Chapter 14: Draw the Line
"There are new seating assignments," said Alecto Carrow when they walked into Magical Hierarchy. "Consult the board for your places."
The seating chart hadn't been randomly assigned, that was for certain. It was painfully obvious from first glance the nature of the placements.
Ron, Neville and Malfoy were given the front seats, as their pedigrees were the most immaculate. It was meant to be a place of honour but given the choice, none of them (or anyone else other than Hermione, for that matter) would willingly choose to sit at the front of the class.
Hermione was forced to sit in the final row, the furthest back she had ever sat in any lesson. Several rows of empty desks separated her and the next line of students, which included Harry, as he had a Muggle-born mother. Her black-haired friend had turned around in his seat several times to look at her before he finally just decided to grab his bag and move to sit beside her.
A part of Hermione was pleased, but another part, the more rational part, knew that this couldn't end well.
"Harry," she whispered. "I'm fine, go back to your—"
Harry plopped down as if he hadn't heard her.
"Mr. Potter," called Carrow from the front of the classroom. "That is not your assigned seat."
Harry shrugged casually. "I just thought, you know, as I'm trying to kill Voldemort and everything, you'd want to put me in the back too."
Hermione groaned inwardly. 'Oh, Harry. Stupid, sweet Harry, what have you done?' She suspected that Voldemort would know about this. Snape had specifically ordered her never to say the name in front of him. He wasn't a loyal Death Eater, so it wasn't out of respect he'd told her not to say it, but, she recalled clearly, because he bore the mark. Don't say it in front of the Dark Mark. There must have been a magical connection, something that happened when the name was spoken near it.
As if in proof to Hermione's theory, Alecto grasped her forearm, exactly where the Dark Mark was tattooed.
Now Carrow was furious, and pulling out her wand, she screeched, "You'll pay for that one, Potter!"
Instinctively, Hermione rose and pulled out her wand, trying to put herself in front of Harry, who was doing the very same thing, putting out an arm to try to push her safely behind him. In the front of the classroom, Ron and Neville shot up as well.
It was silent and tense for a few moments as the entire class waited for the first hex to fly, but as Carrow drew in deep breaths, the red slowly drained from her face and she calmed down.
Hermione could read Ron so easily in that moment. He was pale, contemplating what would happen to Harry for his behaviour, but his jaws were clenched, debating whether or not to join his friend in whatever fate befell him.
He caught her eye, thankfully, and she shook her head and mouthed 'please.' There was no need for both of them, or as she would probably be considered an accomplice in this, all three of them to go down. Both she and Harry knew that Ron would stand by their side. He didn't need to prove it to the rest of the world. He'd better serve them standing by under the Cloak, rather than chained up next to them.
Slowly, Carrow started to walk towards the back of the classroom. All heads turned as she stumped by. "Detention," she hissed through clenched teeth, and something akin to mad excitement swirled with the fury in her eyes. "Tonight. Be in the dungeons at eight."
"I will, sir," Harry said, mumbling the last word under his breath.
For it was whispered (not in her hearing, of course) that Alecto Carrow was just as manly as her brother. They acted the same, unfortunately looked the same, and she even had a deep contralto voice that reflected her brother's bass. There was doubt that Alecto was actually a witch at all; they said that she was just a shorter wizard with a hint of femininity.
Carrow returned to the front of the class to give her lecture to an uncommonly silent classroom. Harry remained sitting beside her. After all that, he still didn't move his place. His argument had been reasonable, after all. Perhaps Alecto had conceded the point.
"Why, Harry?" she whispered desperately, trying to stop her throat from constricting, and the tears from prickling in her eyes. She couldn't begin to describe her terror for him in that moment.
Mouthing off to a Death Eater was, in Hermione's experience, a painful pastime, and it was bound to be so much worse for him than it had been for her. What if they Crucioed him out of his wits? What if they beat him within an inch of his life? What if…?
Fantasy after horrible fantasy played through her head, each new gory scenario worst than the last.
The only thing she knew for certain was that Alecto wouldn't kill him. Only Voldemort could kill him, his Death Eaters weren't allowed to try. It was possible, however, that they would simply remove Harry from the castle and take him directly to Voldemort.
'But why haven't they done that already?' she wondered. It was a question she'd asked herself many times the last month and a half.
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This time it was Hermione's turn to go stand under the Cloak with Ron and watch as their friend was tortured. It wasn't something she was looking forward to.
Ron simply didn't understand why Ginny wanted to go with them to watch Harry's detention. And while both Hermione and Harry (for different reasons) also didn't want Ginny to go, Ron was the loudest in his refusal. Harry didn't want to make Ginny watch, and Hermione didn't know if she could control two Weasleys at the same time. She had a bit of sway over Ron, but Ginny might not be able to contain herself.
Plus, the Cloak didn't fit over three grown people, especially if one of the grown persons was as tall as Ron.
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"Same rules," said Harry as he walked down the corridor, seemingly alone. "You stay hidden under the Cloak at all times. Don't do anything, unless she tries to take me out of Hogwarts."
It was strange, she'd understood that rule perfectly when she had been the one in detention, and worried for her friends should they try to interfere. Now it seemed like an entirely ridiculous and nonsensical rule, to just stand there and watch him be tortured.
She wondered for whom her detention had been more painful, herself or the boys.
Well, she'd find out.
"Your wand," Carrow commanded, exactly as she had when it had been Hermione's detention.
Harry handed it over so promptly, so smugly, that it caught Carrow off-guard. It really was quite the show of trust in her and Ron that he could so easily part with his wand when he knew they had his back. She only hoped they deserved that vote of confidence.
"Now," she growled complacently, waving Harry's own wand in his face to taunt him about his impotence. "Perhaps you'd like to tell me what it was you were doing with that old fool, Dumbledore, the night he died, hmm?"
"Just out for a bit of a walk," Harry answered cheekily.
Hermione wasn't sure of the curse Alecto Carrow used, because she didn't say the spell aloud, but whatever it was had Harry on his knees and panting hard and coughing occasionally, as if he'd just received a hard blow to the stomach.
"I'll ask again. What were you and the Headmaster doing?"
"All right, all right," Harry wheezed. "I'll tell you. We were out searching for… Crumple Horned Snorkacks."
"What?" she snapped, confused and therefore angry and nervous. "Searching for what?"
Hermione and Ron both suppressed their groans as Harry continued to mouth off. "They are very elusive magical creatures that live in Sweden."
"He's lying," came a cold smooth voice from the doorway. Severus Snape stood there, eyeing the scene emotionlessly. "The beast to which he is referring is mythical at best, but altogether most likely the result of the delusional imagination of one of his little friends. The arrogant brat is just having you on."
"What are you doing here, Snape? I'm in charge of punishments."
"I'm not here to stop you," he said. "I just want to watch. Wouldn't want to miss this, after all…"
Alecto began to laugh cruelly. "No, I don't imagine you would. Stand back and see how it's done. Crucio!"
It took everything Hermione had not to cry out, fling off the Cloak and run to help him. Ron held her hand tightly, though whether to keep her from running out to help Harry or to keep himself from doing the same, she didn't know. She was shaking, she was going to vomit, she was sure, but Ron pulled her to face him, pushed her head into his shoulder as he hugged her and told her not to look. His whisper couldn't be heard over Harry's screaming.
She did look, though. She kept her head on his shoulder, but turned to the side, and could still see from one eye. She couldn't not watch. It was like Buckbeak's almost beheading all over again.
It was over more quickly than it had seemed to Hermione. Probably after only a minute.
"If you knew what was good for you, Potter, the next thing out of your mouth had better be good," Carrow snarled.
'Please, Harry, please," Hermione pleaded in her mind. Although what exactly she wanted Harry to do, she didn't know. He couldn't tell the truth, but she didn't want him to say anything that would put him through that again.
Twitching and panting from the floor, Harry said, "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."
"That makes you pretty skint, witless," Alecto sneered, and cast the torture curse again.
Even if they hadn't been muffled by Ron's robes, Hermione's cries would have been completely drowned out by Harry's.
"You said you wouldn't interfere!" screeched Alecto. It was only then that Hermione realised that Snape must have stopped her.
"Believe me, Alecto, no one would enjoy watching Potter die more than I would, but… You know the rules." He broke eye contact with Alecto to sneer bitterly at Harry. "He can't be damaged..." There was a pause before he turned back to Carrow, adding almost as if pointing out the silver lining to this dark cloud. "Beyond repair."
Once again, doubt began to fill her. What if he was really on Voldemort's side after all? Why else would he hate Harry so much? How could he just stand there and watch? Why did he have to antagonise Harry that way? Yes, he had to stay in character but…
But nothing. He had to stay in character.
"No, no," said Alecto, clutching at this eagerly. "He will be healable. No permanent damage. He will still be the Dark Lord's when the time comes. You should try it, Snape! It's fun."
"No doubt," Snape allowed; he made no move to curse Harry, however.
"Well? Come on!"
He shook his head. "If I started, I know I wouldn't stop." His eyes rested on Harry with such genuine disgust that Hermione couldn't believe that he was playing a part. He looked down on Harry as if he were seeing something else entirely; a disgusting creature pickled in one of those many jars in his office.
When Carrow hit Harry with another Crucio, Snape's face didn't change at all.
Harry's screams echoed in the dungeon and she and Ron clung to each other again. Harry was convulsing so violently that his spectacles had flown off his head, his eyes clenched tightly in unbearable pain.
Now. This was the limit, she couldn't let this go on. She'd pointed her wand between Snape and Carrow, trying to decide whom to hex first. If she struck Carrow, Snape would be immediately aware of her presence, as he knew about the invisibility cloak. If she took down Snape first, Harry's torture would be prolonged, but then she could more easily take down a distracted and bewildered Alecto. She'd just made up her mind when Harry opened his eyes and his watery green gaze met Snape's harsh black stare.
"Stop!" It wasn't Harry who all but gasped this command, but Snape. When Carrow didn't listen he barked the order again, louder and more authoritatively. "ENOUGH!" He snatched the wand right out of her hand, ending the spell.
Harry simply panted on the floor, recovering. Hermione wanted to hurry to him, check that he was all right, ask him what she could do to help, but she stayed quietly and silently away, as per the rules. Hermione barely heard the rest of the conversation, as Harry rolled onto his side and looked in the general area where he knew them to be under the Cloak. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth, and Hermione guessed he'd bitten his tongue rather badly.
"No permanent damage. Remember the Longbottoms," he told her.
"The rule is to leave the boy to the Dark Lord. I'm not killing him. The boy doesn't need his wits, he just needs to be living."
"Enough, Alecto. This detention is finished. Go back to your office."
Huffing loudly, she threw Harry's wand on the ground and stomped out of the dungeon room. Snape watched her exit before slowly turning back to Harry, considering him carefully. Harry had closed his eyes by this point and looked as if he were about to fall asleep right there on the cold stones.
Hermione wanted nothing more than for Snape to leave. The sooner he did, the sooner she could get Harry to the Hospital wing.
Carefully, she slid her hand from between the folds of the Invisibility Cloak and made frantic shooing gestures with it, hoping that Ron wouldn't notice.
Snape certainly did, though. It must have been disconcerting, to see a phantom arm flailing about like that, but he was a clever man, must have quickly realised what it meant, that she and Ron were under the Invisibility Cloak.
"I hope you've learnt your lesson, Potter," said Snape curtly, before billowing out of the room.
The moment the door swung heavily shut behind him, Hermione and Ron had thrown off the Cloak and run to Harry's side.
"Mate? You all right? Say something," said Ron.
"He can't, he's bit his tongue nearly through," said Hermione. Her knowledge of healing spells was almost strictly theoretical, and she thought it best to get him to the Hospital Wing as quickly as possible, rather than mend that complex muscle herself.
Hermione Disillusioned them and together, she and Ron put one of Harry's arms around their shoulders, and took him to Madam Pomfrey. To save Harry the trouble of walking, Hermione had cast a very gentle mobilicorpus, so he merely levitated along with them. The entire way there, she and Ron took turns muttering calming but nonsensical things, encouragements and words of comfort and pride, though neither was sure Harry was lucid enough to hear them.
Madam Pomfrey was able to put him to rights, but she said that the effects of the Cruciatus could be long term, and it might be a while before the tremors would cease and the residual ache completely vanish.
Back in the boys' dormitory, Ginny and Neville greeted them anxiously, eager for news.
"I'm fine," Harry croaked. All that screaming had done a number on his throat, apparently. Those were the first words he'd spoken since his 'wit beyond measure' comment in the dungeons. Hermione suspected he only bothered himself with speech to reassure Ginny (who didn't look at all reassured in any case.)
Had Hermione known his throat was in such bad shape she'd've asked Madame Pomfrey for something. She had half a mind to go back and get a soothing solution.
Ron took up the story from there, briefly describing the detention and the Healer's orders that Harry rest. Neville and Ginny nodded in understanding, and with her and Ron's help, Harry staggered to his bed.
She waited an hour before leaving, but before she did, she heard a light scuffling noise. Peering through the curtains of her four-poster, she saw Ginny rise from Seamus' bed and go join Harry. Hermione nodded approvingly. Harry needed all the comfort he could get.
Which was why she was taking the map and Cloak and setting off for the Hospital Wing. This time when she passed Snape on her way, she made no effort to reveal herself to him. Didn't bother letting him know he wasn't alone.
She couldn't help it. She knew that he had to keep his cover, but she still had trouble separating her feelings and her reason. He'd watched with relish as Harry was being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. That was a mental image she wouldn't soon forget.
Soon enough, he turned to go down a different corridor and she continued on to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey seemed a bit frightened for her, that she'd come all that way after curfew, but Hermione reassured her that she wouldn't be seen. Back in the dormitory, she gently wakened Ginny and gave her the potion for Harry's throat, telling her to give it to him when next he woke. She nodded, put it on the bedside table, and cuddled back into Harry, who sleepily clung more tightly to her.
Hermione went back to bed, closing the curtains around Dean's four-poster and lit her wand, and watched the map for him.
She frowned at the dot labelled Severus Snape. How easily he'd seen Harry tortured. Only at the very last moment had he done anything about it. Did he even care at all? Why did he hate Harry so much as to enjoy watching him be Crucioed? He'd done nothing to deserve that level of loathing. Nothing.
Snape stopped mid-stride and turned round, heading towards the castle doors, then out onto the grounds.
He must have been summoned, she thought.
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SS
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Both Severus and Alecto were bidden to come to the Dark Lord, no doubt to explain who had dared use his name.
"It was Potter, my Lord," Carrow informed him, bowing low.
"Let me see," said his master, and Severus knew he was probing Carrow's mind for the memory. He would be next, Severus knew.
Sure enough, the Dark Lord pushed into his mind, watching the detention he'd witnessed and put a stop to.
When the Dark Lord pulled out of his memories, he said, "Thank you, Severus, you are always thinking of me before yourself. You are truly my most faithful servant. I know how much you despise the boy…"
Snape merely bowed in response.
"And yet you don't allow yourself the pleasure of torturing him out of loyalty to me." He turned to Carrow. "Alecto, on the other hand."
At this, she backed away a step, bowing lower. "My lord, the boy was not damaged."
"As a result of Severus' forethought. Not yours. Perhaps he will be so good as to indulge me similarly. You'll tell me when she's about to die, won't you, Severus?" he asked in that odd sort of perverted politeness the Dark Lord always used.
Severus bowed again. "My lord."
And for the second time that night, Severus watched someone be Crucioed within an inch of their life.
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He returned to the castle alone, neither wanting or willing to wait for Alecto to recover. He knew sleep was out of his reach at this point, so once at Hogwarts, he stalked the hallways, not really expecting to find any recalcitrant students. Since the new regime (there seemed no other word) no one had dared break even the smallest rule.
He heard a crash from a nearby classroom and went to investigate. Probably Peeves up to his usual mischief. At least one thing hadn't changed. That poltergeist was as much of a pain as ever.
The door slammed shut behind him. "I saw your face," said an angry whisper.
Snape started, whirled around, pointing his wand in the direction from which it had come.
"You didn't know I was there. You didn't think anyone was watching you. You weren't playing a part for anyone. That reaction was entirely your own!"
Severus was furious. Furious that she had startled him, furious for her bringing it up, and furious for seeking him out like this yet again.
She whipped off the Cloak.
"You're supposed to be helping Harry! Not helping other people hurt him!" she accused. "You liked watching him suffer. I saw it in your face!"
The accusation burned all the more hotly when his denial hid true temptation; that he really had enjoyed watching Potter's torture. For a moment, he'd been a 16 year old boy again, looking down at his longest and most hated enemy. It hadn't troubled his conscience at all… until he'd seen his eyes. Her eyes, with just as much pain and anger in them as they had 20 years ago...
He looked at Granger with a twisted sneer. He didn't have to defend himself to her. What was she? Just a mere slip of a girl. He didn't owe her anything.
"What I do is none of your concern."
"None of my concern?" she very nearly shouted. "We're supposed to be helping each other! Now I'm a patient person, and I've let you push me around all that you like. I let you bully me, boss me about, browbeat me, even let you nearly kill me… But this is where I draw the line."
"Help each other?" he spat back condescendingly. "What could you possibly do to help me? You're just. A little. Girl!"
She stared him down angrily, though her eyes shone with tears. "And you are just. One. Man…" she said, her voice shaking. She flung the Cloak around her and she vanished from sight. "Alone!" And with that, she left him…
Alone.
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HG
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Hermione spent the next week working herself raw. Days, she studied hard academically. Evenings, she trained with Harry and Ron, Neville and Ginny. Nights, she slipped out to work on her potion.
It seemed that Harry and Ron had recovered from Harry's detention much more quickly than she had. Then again, they had no conflicting feelings. It was simple. Black and White. Evil Death Eaters had hurt them. They hated the Evil Death Eaters. End of story.
Only that was just the beginning for Hermione.
It had been easier dealing with Snape when she could see him only as a suffering double-agent. Forced to do things he didn't like for the greater good. Now, she reflected, there must have been a reason he joined up with Voldemort in the first place. There had to be something deeply wicked inside him. Something very dark. Had to be. He wasn't the innocent victim/hero she'd originally thought him to be. She could no longer look up to him as blindly as before. She felt just as she had that time in the Shrieking Shack; the utter horror she'd felt in that moment when she thought Lupin had been helping Sirius (whom she still believed to be a killer at that point.) She'd felt so betrayed. She'd trusted Lupin, had kept his secret from everyone…
And here she was again.
But Lupin had been innocent, in the end…
Thinking back to when she'd made herself known to him in Myrtle's bathroom, she had to wonder just how close she'd actually come to being killed. Much closer than she'd originally thought, that was for certain. Snape wasn't as friendly or reliable an ally as she'd thought.
"And to think I'd pitied him…" she said to herself as she was stirring her potion.
Then she remembered the broken man who sat with his knees against his chest, his hands in his hair, and she realised she still pitied him, despite everything.
As she said, it wasn't as simple as dividing it between Death Eaters and Order members, black and white.
Despite what she'd seen during Harry's detention, she still believed that Snape was on their side, whatever personal faults, grudges, and dark tendencies he might have. His heart, or rather, his intent, was in the right place.
She'd just have to teach herself to trust him all over again.
Looking back, she wasn't surprised. It was the reason that Harry hadn't learned Occlumency. He and Snape simply couldn't stand each other, for reasons still obscure to her. There was a deep and personal enmity there, to be sure, but it (probably) didn't have to do with the war.
Just as she was having trouble keeping her personal feelings and reason separate, so must Snape be. So would Harry, if he knew the truth of Snape's loyalties. She would just have to work past it. Get over it. And perhaps never let Harry alone in the same room with Snape again, just to be safe. Perhaps she ought not to be either. Just to be safe…
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SS
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The following fortnight was unpleasant for Severus Snape, not that he ever had pleasant ones, mind. But the two weeks subsequent to Potter's detention had been particularly poor. He'd stopped sleeping again, which made him more irascible than ever. He'd got into a blazing row with Minerva and said things that, had the real Headmaster been alive, he would have regretted. As it was, he couldn't regret it, as it was what Dumbledore had wanted. He was entirely too believable, once again, in his role. He didn't believe it himself, not this time, but only because he was still burning from Granger's accusation. He had stopped Carrow, hadn't he? He'd kept the boy alive and safe, had he not? Not that his unpaid life debt to Potter's father would have allowed otherwise…
And why was everyone so devoted to that damned boy, anyway? It made Severus even angrier to know that he was too, in his own wand-forced way.
The fact remained that he hadn't done anything wrong. Yes, he had taken out his temper on the girl, but Granger was the only person in the castle—hell—the world that he could be completely himself around without worrying for his life or ruining his cover (which would also result in the loss of his life). And she deserved it for being so annoying, he defended himself.
That, and she'd hit a nerve, so in true Snape-fashion, he'd burned all his bridges and alienated his only ally. Not that he needed her, of course. He wasn't some attention-starved teenager that needed constant affirmation and reassurance. He didn't have friends, he didn't have family, he didn't have a lover, he didn't have a life. He only had a mission.
And his orders came from a dead man, and his motivation from a dead woman.
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Yet another sleepless night. His guard was down, and at this point, Severus didn't know if it was because he was dim-witted with fatigue or his death-wish refused to be suppressed any longer, but he walked unsteadily down the corridors late that night with absolutely no concern for defence. He'd caught and disabled many booby-traps in the past whilst on his rounds but tonight he missed one. It had Filius' touch, more Charms than Transfiguration and not large and brutal, but subtle and efficient. More the unobtrusive Ravenclaw's style. It was, however, rather darker than he would have expected from Flitwick, but there were very few 'light' ways of killing a person.
He staggered backwards a few steps, before he even felt the pain of the slash. It took a while for it to reach his brain. His wand had disappeared, no doubt taken by a disarmament charm the same time the slashing hex came at him. Well done, he had to allow.
He'd always been a private man, so he didn't really fancy the idea of his death being right there in the open corridor, so he took himself off to a nearby classroom, crawling on his belly like a dying dog seeking its final shelter. He'd been looking for a reason to give up, to fail, as he'd always known he would. He'd done nothing but let people down his whole life, there was no reason this should be any different. Potter had others to protect him. The Order managed to get by without his information… he supposed anyway. He really hadn't a clue as to what the Order was doing, since he'd cut himself off from his only connection with them.
Exsanguination was as good a way to die as any, he supposed, though it would take a while at this rate. Still, he was in no real hurry. He'd be dead by morning, that's what mattered. He lay down and got comfortable, and went to sleep. He wouldn't even be aware when he stopped breathing.
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He was rudely averted from his course of action by a familiar swotty voice.
Severus groaned, unable to stir himself enough to open his eyes. As lucidity spread over him, he became aware that his flesh was being magically mended.
"… doing the best I can from theory. We can try your luck with Madam Pomfrey, if you think she'll help you. Though from what I've read, it looks as though it's working. I haven't any blood replenisher on hand but I'm sure there's some in the Hospital Wing so it might be worth a try to use a Summoning char—"
"You're babbling," he said, still keeping his eyes closed. Perhaps if he ignored her, she'd disappear. But he'd have an easier time ignoring her if she'd shut up.
"I know, I do that when I'm—oh. You've come round then. Accio!"
He huffed. "So it would seem," he said, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Soon she was forcing a bottle into his hand, telling him to drink.
But Severus never drank something just because he was told to. He reached for his wand before he remembered he didn't have it, and seeing that the girl held hers in her hand, he took it from her to test the potion to see what it was. He could tell by the smell that it had the same properties of the Blood Replenishing Potion, he could detect the faint scent of pomegranate, but one never knew if a subtle poison had been added to a brew.
His spell confirmed that it was only a simple Blood Replenishing Potion, and after a moment's hesitation, he drank it. 'Too late to die now,' he thought. 'Might as well take it.'
She sat quietly with her legs tucked underneath her for a few minutes while the potion took effect.
He wanted to ask what in Merlin's name she was doing there, but what she was doing was only too plain.
"Why are you here?" he asked sullenly. She'd ruined his plan of being successfully assassinated.
"Well, nobody is ever left alone. It's part of our rules. Ron and I were under the Cloak for Harry's detention, just like the boys were for mine."
Nobody is ever left alone. What a Gryffindor thing to do, and yet… while Snape wanted to sneer, he couldn't help but feel a small prick of envy. They cared so much for each other, watched over one another so diligently. The envy quickly changed to bitterness.
"What are you even doing here? I said not to come to me!"
"I was watching you on the map," she confessed. "When you stopped moving for a long time, I came down to see…"
His eyes narrowed at her threateningly, his anger rising in his chest. "You're spying on me?"
She shook her head wildly, waving her hands up in front of her in negation. "No, of course not! In Gryffindor, everyone has a group. Each group should know where every other member is at all times. We even tell each other when we are going to the loo."
"I'm not a Gryffindor," he pointed out with a snarl.
"Yes, sir, I know that, I just thought…" She faltered, sighed, and tried again. "I've chosen to trust you," she said stiffly, as if convincing herself of this as much as him. "Whatever is between you and Harry I've decided to leave to the two of you. And I haven't been spying on you, sir. I've been keeping a watchful eye on the map just in case..."
She was veritably radiating with know-it-all-ness. She didn't say, 'Just in case something like this happens,' because she didn't need to. It was obvious she felt justified in spying on him because now she'd saved his life.
Oh no…
She'd saved his life.
Severus shut his eyes in shattering denial of it all. Not another life debt. Oh please, no…
He wished she'd left him for dead. He couldn't bear to be bound again. Not again. Would his will never be his own?
It was all he could do not to wail in anguish right then in there. He could have easily cast the killing curse on her just then, if he'd only had his wand. But of course, the life debt wouldn't allow that.
Failing screaming, failing killing her, he thought he might just break down and weep in the sheer frustration of it all, but his pride had revived sooner than his strength, it appeared.
Oh, but he was incomparably miserable.
She kept talking, though not the same rapid burble as before. She was suggesting some plan of getting him back to his office to rest.
"Just leave me," he told her, though he didn't want to languish there without his wand. He knew it was a moot point as she wouldn't heed his suggestion anyway.
"Here, let me help you—" She was trying to pull him to his feet.
"Don't touch me!" he snapped angrily. Instantly she pulled away, looking as if he'd struck her. It didn't last however.
"You must be feeling better if you can bark at me like that." She had the unconscionable cheek to smile at him. No doubt she was gloating that she held power over him, that she'd enslaved him to the eternal misery of a life debt.
Just as he was about to give her a thorough tongue-lashing, he realised that he didn't feel bound by a life debt as he had before. "Silence!" he commanded, though she hadn't been speaking. He focussed intensely in on himself, searching for it but he felt nothing new.
How was that possible?
He went over the terms of a life debt in his head. Those who show mercy and spare another's life…
It must not have been mercy, then. If he wasn't bound by a life debt, she must have simply saved his life because… because she wanted him to live.
He turned to the girl, studying her with incredulity. Last he'd spoken to her, she'd been accusing him of betraying her and her best friend and yet she chose to trust him, had saved his life, asking for nothing in return.
That possibility had never occurred to him.