A/N: I'm quite glad to see folks are still engaged in this story. I know updates aren't as frequent as many would like (myself included!), but I'd rather provide you all with quality chapters versus quantity, so hopefully I'll deliver something worthwhile with each update. *fingers crossed*
Thank you so much to those of you who left feedback last time. If you would, please continue to provide your thoughts as we move through this story. It makes the exchange between writer and reader so much more compelling when I can engage in what you're thinking!
The various plot elements will start picking up shortly but, for now, another minor revelation (or two!), as well as a wizard in need of some serious mending...
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox and own none of her associated characters. No money, just fun.
Chapter 14: Shame and Sympathy
Hermione paced back and forth before the fireplace, forgetting and forgoing her monotonous 'chores.' She was too reckless to concentrate, consumed with worry for the wizard in billowing, black robes who had left her so abruptly to answer Lord Voldemort's call. It didn't matter that inwardly her headstrong conscience wasn't giving her heart any leeway, cautioning her time and again about allowing her emotions to become so fervently entangled with one Severus Snape, her former professor and a notorious Death Eater, well known to have committed unspeakable crimes, some which were admitted of his own volition.
No. None of that matters now, she told herself over and over again before the fireplace. Not after what I know.
That sincere confession he had made—and, to Hermione, it was the most profound interaction they had shared since her attraction towards the wizard began—about harboring a deeper fondness for her was at the top of her register of Recent Revelations that had changed her mind about him. How could she cast aside those hushed, tenuous words Severus had conveyed to her only recently whilst unable to meet her gaze, to cast his feelings aside as sentiments to be debunked as disingenuous?
'Because I'm trying not to care for you, and I would rather live with my guilt and regret than take that which I don't deserve...'
The mere remembrance of those delicately placed words sent a shiver rushing up Hermione's spine and she ceased her mindless striding back and forth, shuddering as though she had caught a chill; but the air was warm and rather consoling where she stood. It had been that simple confirmation of something deeper—of mutual affections—that had led Hermione to pacing relentlessly before the hearth, ignoring the warnings in her mind. Instead, she had only attention for her heart's desire, which, at the moment, fretted over the unconventional dark knight presently missing from the home, her racing thoughts unable to focus on much else outside of when he might return.
Yet now there was more corroboration to add to Hermione's blossoming attraction: the Unbreakable Vow, a mind-blowing revelation she was still wrestling to digest, for it was most definitely not a small undertaking by any stretch of the imagination. Not only had the act further enlightened Hermione as to this complicated man's underlying honorable conduct that the rest of the world knew not, but it also spoke volumes as the true sentiments for her he had apparently long fostered and vehemently denied.
All whilst I was falling for him and thinking I shouldn't; thinking that he was mostly wicked and untrustworthy and despicable, Hermione lamented with a critical frown. How wrong I was... How bloody wrong I was!
For how long had Severus Snape been harboring such feelings? When he had taken the Unbreakable Vow, had he felt as passionately for Hermione then as he did now; or had his actions at the time merely been out of some high-minded righteousness and the affections had manifested later?
Does it matter, Hermione? she huffed to herself and shook her head to drive her analyses away, albeit unsuccessfully. He took the Unbreakable Vow, for Merlin's sake! He risked everything—his very life—for you! That perverse, righteous, impossible man! What the hell was he thinking, throwing himself to the gods of Fate like that? And then to not speak a word of it...
Well, exercising her legs wasn't going to get her any closer to a sensible explanation or stop her from worrying if Severus was safe and all right and would be home in time for supper.
Hermione wrung her hands together and let out an exasperated sigh. Why had she been forced to stay behind, to be rendered utterly useless and powerless to help him? Dusting the ruddy curtains wasn't exactly what she had in mind in terms of helping Severus out. Something a tad more beneficial was in order, but what?
Hermione groaned and rubbed wearily at her furrowed brow. She was considering getting herself a cup of tea purely to calm her nerves when the crackling flames suddenly ignited, springing to life and emitting a magnificent fluorescent green that momentarily left her blinded. Hermione shielded her eyes until the light dimmed.
Then the very person she had been stressing herself over came shooting through the grate, his Death Eater robes a shocking, splitting mess as they barely clung to his crippled frame. He stumbled forward, wobbly on his feet, which, too, looked exceedingly unnatural.
Hermione halted in her tracks, and her throat collapsed into the pit of her stomach. The horrifying spectacle of an immensely bloodied and battered Severus stood before her, leaving Hermione, at first, incapable of moving. Blood trickled from his nose and down his severely bruised cheeks, and his eyes were fluttering repeatedly, as if unable to grasp where he was. When they were finally able to lock onto the witch gaping at him in terror a few feet away, he groaned and staggered towards her, reaching and falling simultaneously.
At last, Hermione's legs sprang into action. She crossed the gap between them just in time to seize him around the waist, hoisting one of his limp arms about her neck. The dead weight of his crumbling form sunk into her as though she were his support, and another longer stabbing groan escaped his lips. It was only upon reaching his side that Hermione realized that Severus's face was as white as a ghost, laden with sweat, and the bruise on his left cheek was more severe than the right. He was also convulsing uncontrollably, his breathing startlingly haggard as he tried to gain air in and out of his lungs. The overpowering scent of blood made Hermione nauseous, but her senses fought against it. Severus was clearly in agony and in need of her aid.
"You're hurt," she choked out, unable to prevent conveying the obvious.
Severus grunted, apparently too inept—or, rather, in too much pain—to counter her 'observant' remark. He tried to right himself and take an independent step on his own but wavered, leaning more heavily into the petite witch pressed against his side who faced the probability of being crushed beneath his weight. Although Severus didn't weigh much, between his height and lean muscle frame, Hermione was simply no physical match. She struggled to keep the pair of them from crashing to the floor by drawing her arms tighter about his waist and hoisting him to straighten his upper body. Another whiff of blood penetrated Hermione's nose, prompting her resilience to get Severus to lie down so that she might properly assess the extent of his injuries.
"Here, lie down on the couch—"
"No," he insisted and made a failed attempt to inch away from her; his body came crashing back into Hermione for support, and they nearly toppled head first into the wall. "Bed...room... Up...stairs..." he hissed through clenched teeth.
"You can't possibly—"
"Hermione, don't."
The mixture of command and plea was so uncharacteristically feeble that it brought Hermione up short. She turned to him, concern etched across her countenance, a consideration Severus certainly wasn't accustomed to receiving.
Carefully, the witch eased them towards the stairs. "Wouldn't it be easier to Apparate?" she suggested once they reached the first step, but Severus declined with a low, forceful mutter.
"Can't... Too w - weak..." He hacked violently, spit up some blood, and gasped for air. His compromising state was startling to behold, forcing Hermione to swallow her fears as best she could and push them onward, though at a lead-footed pace.
Severus paused on the first step to gather his strength. "Can you do it?" Hermione tentatively questioned him, surveying the battered wizard up and down anxiously whilst choosing wisely not to express her apprehensions.
"Have...to... No choice..."
Hermione sighed, though the intermittent smell of blood was starting to make her increasingly uneasy, and resolved to haul him forward onto the first step. "All right. Go easy, okay? One step at a time."
Severus groaned defensively and hobbled forward. To Hermione, it was painful to watch, but as long as Severus kept moving and didn't collapse on her, then she would be encouraged.
Half way up the stairs, Severus floundered with his balance, propelling Hermione to brace him with all the bodily strength she had, which wasn't much. More than once he had to lean against the bannister so as not to crush her into the wall. Each time he took considerable breaks to catch his breath, and Hermione became less and less reassured. Should he be taken to hospital? His condition was worsening rather than subsiding, and for someone who displayed little to no emotional or physical strife, every wince and sound of pain Severus gestured was alarming to hear.
They were nearly at the second level when Severus was forced to stop yet again. Hermione used her free hand to clasp his arm, as he quivered and hunched over, draped raven hair concealing the obvious strain his aggrieved body was undergoing.
"What can I do?" Hermione whispered in desperation. "Please, Severus, there must be an easier way—"
"Just...help me...to my room..."
"Mine's closer. Why don't we get you to lay down on my bed and I can—"
"No... I have...tonics..."
"I can fetch them! For goodness's sake—"
"Don't...argue...with me!" he snarled, though his order ended in a series of brutally coarse-sounding coughs.
"All right, all right! Have it your way!"
Hermione underpinned herself securely around his waist once more to ensure that he wouldn't slump over. Keeping him on his feet was proving trying enough. If he fell to the ground, without magic at her disposal then Hermione feared she wouldn't have a prayer of hoisting him back onto his feet again.
"I'm sorry," she grumbled an apology as they moved onward, hating the wizard's fierce struggle to breathe, as well as the blood that smeared his face. "Just take your time, Severus. I'm here. I'll help you."
Severus inhaled sharply and, a moment later, dragged his boots upward the rest of the way, his shaky knees fighting every aggravating step. He yearned for the comforts of his own bed—his only spot of respite from the cycle of dark curses, blood-curdling hexes, and the reoccurring presence of a psychotic maniac hell-bent on destroying everything and everyone in his path, including those closest to him who served him well—and that of his warm sheets that he might slide beneath and hibernate until the excruciating pains passed.
At the top of the stairs, Severus tripped ungracefully and nearly collapsed to the floor, but Hermione pinned herself in front of him at the last possible second and gathered his upper body around both arms. "Oh!" she cried out, striving to stay on her feet. "Don't fall over on me now, or I'll never be able to help you back up!"
"You could...drag me...if you had to," he made to counter; or was he, in fact, goading her on?
Hermione snorted and ignored the wizard's suggestion, regardless. "Highly unlikely!"
Severus mumbled something else that was incoherent and reached outward to grip the wall. Using it as an additional crutch, Severus gingerly trudged down the hallway, Hermione firmly at his side. The narrow passageway seemed to stretch on for an eternity before they finally reached his private quarters, however.
Severus was almost bent in half by the time he finally made it to his much sought-after bed. Upon reaching his well cushioned sanctuary, Severus moaned with relief and sunk down on top of the covers, ignoring the fact that he was still bloody and likely staining the sheets. With trembling fingers, he extracted his wand from his sleeve and made a frail wave towards the fireplace to set it alight with much-desired heat. His arm then collapsed like a dead weight at his side, his fingers loosely gripped around his only physical source of defense.
"I...can manage...from here..." he rasped after a moment, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
"Let me assist you," Hermione insisted in a soft voice. She didn't wait for the weary, surly man to bite back at her in protest but leaned over him and began untying his cravat, unmindful of the hooded dark eyes now gazing heavily up at her. "You'll be more comfortable once we get you out of these clothes. I need to take a look at how badly you're injured."
"What, are you...a Healer...now?" he attempted to snap at her, but it lacked its usual sting, and Hermione shocked him by directing what could only be described as a playful smirk down at his trembling form.
"I do remember a thing or two about healing potions, yes. You taught me well, you know, Professor."
Severus could not see fit to engage in such banter; not even with something appropriately snarky and degrading at this juncture. Breathing was proving painful enough as it was.
Quivering fingers reached up to flimsily push Hermione's hands off of him but with little effect, what with such poor strength, and Hermione was far more determined. She reacted by shooting him a proper glare and, exercising more force, began tugging his cravat loose.
"Hold still, would you? Don't fight me. I'm trying to help you."
Too incapacitated to gripe further, Severus resigned to keep relatively still, fighting the urge to close his eyes and drift off to sleep. Not that he would sleep long, even if he could. The convulsions were far too strong, as was the level of pain he was experiencing. Whilst he appreciated Hermione's willingness, too, and it wasn't that he didn't trust her to do what was necessary in this situation, his nerves were fried after the Dark Lord's precipitous attack earlier that day. He had seen to his own injuries in the past, so having someone else look over him was atypical and, more importantly, terribly uncomfortable to withstand.
Mentally and physically exhausted, Severus knew he would find no relief nor rest until he took the potions required, which might—somewhat—alleviate his afflictions. He could only hope the infamous 'know-it-all' could still figure out what was required, for it would be too trying to explain. The witch was also right: he desperately needed to get himself cleaned up and out of these bloodied robes.
As if the clever Hermione had somehow already ascertained his private wishes, Severus blinked and found his dragon-hide boots being gently heaved off his sweaty feet. His long legs, awkwardly draped over the side of the bed like two ten ton weights, tried to hoist themselves upward and onto the bed but, to him, they were simply too heavy to move and wouldn't budge on command.
"Easy," he vaguely heard Hermione whisper close by.
Small hands reached behind his knees and delicately elevated his legs onto the bed for him. Severus groaned appreciatively and attempted to scoot backwards and sideways, but every working part of his body protested at being made to shift about. He winced and closed his eyes, waiting for the escalating pangs shooting up and down every limb to subside, all but forgetting the present company in his bedroom until she spoke again, quietly and close to his face, whilst brushing strands of damp hair off of his forehead.
"Here, I'm going to lift you up a moment to place a pillow behind your head."
Warm fingers momentarily cradled the back of his neck and, soon, something soft and downy was situated beneath him, followed by several more plush pillows that surrounded and gently supported his battered upper body. Severus let out a low moan, mollified and grateful to be in this position, but his eyelids were soon fluttering open again when he detected the same determined fingers unbuttoning his frock coat. His instant reflex was to brush her away.
"I...can do...it."
A light snort dismissed his objection. "No, you can't. Stop working against me, Severus. You need potions and rest. Let me see how bad it is."
Severus rolled his head sideways, away from her. "Meddlesome..." he groused under his breath, unaware that Hermione's gaze had turned from the many buttons on his chest to the man's striking profile, soaking in the persistent perspiration that made his pale complexion ghostly and ever more unnatural to the eye. Empathy stared down at him rather than what Severus would have preferred: indifference.
"I heard that," she retorted in a voice that bordered on amusement; a small smile, too, emerged at the corners of Hermione's lips despite her concerns.
"Good," Severus mumbled back, resolved to keep his eyes directed towards the closed curtains along the opposite side of his bed.
Hermione soon had Severus's coat unbuttoned, but as she opened it to reveal a white shirt underneath, she was jolted by the copious amounts of blood that stained the crisp fabric, the results of which pertained to a series of open gashes or wounds covering his chest. "My God, Severus!" she blurted out in shock. "What did that raging maniac do to you?"
Severus's raspy breathing told her that he was in the midst of too difficult a struggle to answer, let alone provide her with a more in depth explanation, which served to re-prod her into action. Frantic eyes roved over the wand still loosely grasped in Severus's right hand, but even Hermione had reservations about chancing to snatch it for use, even in the heat of the moment, and her slight hesitation proved enough time for the Legilimens to read her mind.
"No," came Severus's weak growl to the ideas batting back and forth in the witch's head.
Hermione rattled. "But—"
"It's not...that I don't trust you," he strained to assure her, his head still turned away, "but my wand...could prove...hazardous to you. It's loyalty to me...might be your undoing..."
"But isn't it worth a try?"
"I'm in no...condition to...see to both of our injuries...should anything go wrong."
"But Severus—"
"My answer's no."
Hermione would have readily argued that point some more, but time was of the essence, and, right now, it was being wasted. They could row about it later if there would be time to devote to such nonsense. Thus, Hermione dashed across the room to the loo to fetch wet cloths and fresh towels—anything she could grab within reach—and nearly tripped over her own feet upon her return.
Quickly unbuttoning his bloodied shirt, Hermione's horrified eyes took in a handful of cruel markings that were violently slashed across Severus's chest and abdomen, seemingly the cause of so much bleeding. Hermione immediately sought to soak up the blood with a few of the damp cloths, but the rags and her hands were soon covered in the wizard's blood. Her hands, at first stable, grew evermore clammy the redder they became.
"I - I need to fetch a bowl of fresh water from the kitchen," she stammered, swallowing hard to calm her nerves. For the first time since setting eyes on Severus when he had come stumbling through the fireplace, Hermione felt truly fearful for the predicament he was in. The extent of his injuries was much worse than she had anticipated.
How did he ever manage to take care of himself? she briefly pondered before making to run out of the room. Is it always this bad?
"No...need..." Severus choked out before she reached the doorknob. He pointed a quivering finger towards the loo. "In...the cabinet...be - behind the door..."
Not needing to be told twice, Hermione rushed back to Severus's side and grabbed a hold of his trembling hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Thank you, I'll get it. You just lie still. It's going to be okay." She caught the flicker of something—was it panic?—in those colourless eyes but tried to force it from her mind as she disappeared into the loo once more to retrieve a bowl of fresh warm water.
Severus remained perfectly silent and still all the while, though his body shivered every so often from the convulsions raging through his body as a result of heavy bouts of the Cruciatus Curse. Meanwhile, Hermione carefully worked over his chest and stomach, cleansing each individual gash, some of which ran remarkably deep, as best as she could without the convenience of magic at her disposal. She sensed that the water must sting like hell, for Severus's stomach muscles clenched taughtly and he hissed through gritted teeth with every stroke she directed at his skin, but he never saw fit to usher a complaint when it came to doing what was necessary.
Thankfully, as a result of Hermione's painstaking attention, her efforts began to slowly pay off, soaking up most of the blood and festering wounds, though, to her, they hardly appeared better than they had at the off, only dried up but not patched. She had to refill the bowl twice more, for it didn't take long for the hot water to take on a startling crimson pigment, but, eventually, that ceased as well.
"I'm so sorry, Severus," Hermione murmured sadly close to his ear after a time passed in silence, "I'm working as fast as I can. You're bleeding an awful lot."
"I know... I—"
"Shhh, don't talk." Hermione whisked a few slick hairs away from his eyes. "Lie still, remember?"
Severus gave a slight nod of compliance and went mute, minus the occasional haggard breaths he couldn't control. Severus closed his eyes repeatedly and allowed the obliging witch to work over him, too spent to talk. Hermione was thorough but quiet for the most part, which he appreciated.
Once the bleeding was under control, Hermione inquired after whatever healing potions Severus had handy. She hadn't spotted any in the loo, so she delicately shook Severus's shoulder, as he had started to doze off in the midst of being looked after.
"Severus, where do you keep your healing potions?"
Severus struggled to turn his head and arm towards his bedside table. "In...there..."
Hermione swiftly opened the drawer and took out a handful of phials and ointments, squinting at each to read its label. Blood Replenishing Potion... He'll certainly need that. Oh, bruise paste, brilliant! Should help with the swelling; that purple cheek is a doozy. And...what is this? I've never heard of this before.
"It...helps...with...convulsions," Severus piped up, reading Hermione's perplexed expression about the elusive phial easily enough.
Hermione's brown eyes roved over a poorly conditioned Severus before coming to rest upon his rather unruffled face, etched deeply with the lines of unspoken burdens he carried for far too long. "You were cursed," she whispered, her gut knotting uncomfortably at the awful thought. "The Cruciatus... That explains the convulsions."
"Yes..." Severus grunted and looked away towards the ceiling, cringing as another wave of pain hit his body. "It's still his preferred...method...of torture..."
Hermione gulped. Of course, she had had her suspicions that Severus might be as subjected to such Unforgivable Curses as anyone else, but to have him provide her with such an honest answer, as well as a true glimpse of actual proof as to the Dark Lord's torturing capabilities, was highly unnerving. It still didn't explain the slashes of blood, though.
Hermione hastily threw herself back into healing mode and uncorked the first phial. She perched herself onto the edge of the bed and cradled the back of Severus's head; his hair was still wet and greasy from so much perspiration.
"Here, take this. It's Blood Replenish."
Giving her an unreadable look over, Severus silently consumed the contents of the first phial, vigorously hacking afterwards; but he managed to keep the liquid down, much to Hermione's relief. His entire body shuddered as the potion kicked in and began to take its much-needed effect, absorbing the remnants of blood against his bare skin.
Hermione watched attentively and was alleviated to see a healthier glow permeate Severus's otherwise pallid, sunken cheeks. Keeping his head properly nestled against the crook of her arm, Hermione uncorked the next phial and held it to Severus's lips.
"For the convulsions," she whispered.
Severus drank down that potion as well and, though he still coughed afterwards, the result was less acute than the first—an encouraging sign. He rested comfortably against Hermione with his eyes half closed and, soon, the shaking finally ceased altogether. Hermione sensed that lingering pains must surely remain, however, even if Severus now lay slack in her fold.
Hermione carefully gathered one of the few clean cloths left on Severus's bedside table and doused it with more hot water. Taking it to his forehead, she dabbed lightly at Severus's cool skin, brushing away pearls of sweat that clung to his brow despite the comfortable warmth in the air.
I should put another log on the fire, Hermione considered. If only I could use that blasted wand, things could be taken care of properly!
Hermione stroked the wet cloth over Severus's high brow to his depressed cheeks, where she more cautiously dabbed at the left that was quite swollen and bruised, then patted the rag across the wizard's parched lips and exposed neck. All the while, Severus didn't utter a word nor flinch at her considerate touch.
Somehow, Hermione's attentive eyes wandered to the harrowing snake bites that plagued Severus's prominent Adam's apple—visible confirmation of the terror she, Ron, and Harry had witnessed unleashed upon their former professor over a year ago in the Shrieking Shack—and she couldn't help but hitch a breath. His neck was still severely scarred from the snake bites, wild-looking and embedded deep into the man's throat.
They were the sort of murderous marks that should have claimed his life, and yet, somehow—miraculously—Severus Snape had survived Nagini's near deadly assault. Eying those savaging snake bites, however he had made it must have been a true sensation to witness. Hermione and her closest friends had watched his rapid demise play out that fateful night before their eyes, certain that their professor was dying—no, had died. No one could hope to survive such a heinous attack like what Lord Voldemort had ordered upon his most trusted servant, but by some stroke of luck—Thank Merlin!—Severus had pulled through in the end.
Suddenly, though, Hermione found herself frowning. ...For this?
Tonight was yet another marveling stroke of good fortune for the mostly unfortunate wizard—a narrow escape from death—that Hermione was bearing witness to a second time. What would have happened to him if she hadn't been here to help him recover? She was too distraught to consider the consequences. He might have died... He might have... How long had Severus Snape endured such mental and physical abuse under the Dark Lord's dictatorship or at the expense of the Order, for that matter, when it had still been functional, for her and her friends? For Harry...
That was even more disquieting to contemplate, and a gruesome probability Hermione wasn't quite ready to face. Not until she knew more.
Hermione wasn't sure how long she stayed positioned that way—seated on the edge of Severus's bed with his head cradled in her arm, her opposite hand gently stroking over his healed neck wounds with the damp rag—but his deep voice finally broke the stillness when he expressed a throaty "Thank you...Hermione... I believe...I'm well enough...to rest now."
His words weren't very convincing, however, given his present state; but Hermione had to admit that he looked marginally more comfortable, and better looking after being attended to. The dreadful thought of leaving him alone, though, felt entirely wrong footed.
"Are you sure? Can I give you anything else for the pain?"
To her dismay, Severus slowly shook his head, his eyes struggling to remain open. "No... Only time...and rest...can heal the rest."
"Oh! Hold on."
Taking another note of the swelling bruise along his left cheek that she still hadn't addressed, Hermione hastily snatched up the paste jar from the bedside table and rubbed a handful of yellow adhesive onto Severus's left cheek, massaging the ghastly blemish through slow, rhythmic strokes. Severus winced at first but, eventually, his contorted expression melted into one of taxed relief. His breathing, too, evened and grew less raspy. Hermione's soft fingers and the paste soothed away the soreness, replacing the aches with an unfamiliar comfort, and it wasn't long before Severus was on the threshold of sleep; but then he sensed Hermione easing herself out of the bed and shuffling about nearby, and that briefly brought him back to.
A few tricky shoves and Severus was soon shirtless, his coat and shirt cast aside somewhere he knew not. He could only hope the witch hadn't thoughtlessly tossed them onto the floor.
Whatever...
More bruising paste was applied to his chest area as well, and Severus sighed deeply as those warm hands—dainty, yet surprisingly agile—worked themselves relentlessly into his tender skin. It wasn't so much painful, mostly pleasurable by comparison, easing the niggling aches left by several casting of the Cruciatus Curse and other dark hexes. The scars were soon covered by some bandaging tape Hermione had somehow unearthed from the back of the cabinet under the sink.
All the while, Severus was too worn out to move or brush those diligent hands away. Had he more strength, he might have resorted to a spell of his own making to take care of things but, alas...
A few more lasting cuts on this ruddy body won't make much difference. Sleep... Must...sleep...
Severus could sense Hermione unfastening his trousers and then cautiously hoisting them off, leaving him all but stark naked except for his briefs. Those, too, were gently pulled off, much to Severus's assuage. He couldn't remember if he had pissed them through in the midst of being cursed again and again by the Dark Lord, but he was too knackered to contemplate whether or not he had lost control of his bloody bowels. If he had, and she had noticed, then Severus was grateful that Hermione hadn't drawn attention to that sensitive factor.
At present, Hermione was too busy moving about, her light footsteps informing him that she was likely searching for pajama bottoms in one of his dresser drawers; but Severus would much rather remain as he was, if he could just open his mouth to speak. That would require too much effort at the present time, though.
Evidently, Hermione either gave up ransacking his room for something to wear or seemed to understand what the man preferred at this point, for she soon returned to his side, pulled off his sweaty socks to replace them with a fresh pair, and then covered the rest of him with several plush, comfy blankets. A little tucking in and Severus was soon snug as he could have wished to be, and hardly could have accomplished on his own. He sighed weightily and sunk further into the pillows that cradled his head.
"Try not to move too much," Hermione issued somewhere nearby—very close. "The wounds are healing but you could still have some occasional bleeding."
"Mmmhmm," Severus mumbled, his face half-hidden beneath the covers.
That unusual, captivating visual forced Hermione's concerned expression to morph into a brief smile. "Would you like a sleeping potion, Severus? I have one here. It will help you stay asleep."
"They don't..." Severus paused, overtaken by a sudden yawn. "They don't help much."
"All right, well, if you change your mind, it's right here beside your bed if you need it, all right?"
"Mmmhmm... Thank you..."
Soft brushing against his forehead eased Severus promptly into an unconscious state. "Try and get some rest. I'll be right here, just in case."
Those were the last words Severus registered before succumbing to sleep. A warning shot fired off somewhere at the back of his mind—something about how intimate and personal such words sounded—but he was too far gone to sit up and argue the matter, or to physically push the witch out of his room. If she wanted to stay, so be it.
Besides, there was something awfully comforting about having Hermione Granger nearby...
A startling cry stirred Hermione awake at roughly one in the morning. She had taken to lying down beside Severus whilst he slept. After assessing the injuries he had sustained, she wasn't about to leave him unattended. Not until he was well enough to manage on his own. Having her wand handy would have put her mind at ease a bit more, but since that wasn't the case, Severus had had to endure her sub-par Muggle-healing tactics. He hadn't complained or chewed into her for it, though, so she could only pray that it would all do him some good.
Well, he's quite bad, Hermione. Imagine if... If you hadn't been there... Of if he had seen fit to take care of this on his own.
If Severus had been in better form, Hermione suspected he might have done just that—Stubborn bugger!—and a sleepy smile drifted across her face at the somewhat amusing thought of them quarreling the matter to death before she finally slept. Severus hadn't made a noise since, leaving Hermione with the frail hope that he might rest comfortably through the night.
Moo had snuck into Severus's private quarters at some point during the evening and plopped himself comfortably on top of a pillow perched between Severus and the kitten's mistress. When Severus later awoke with a start, shivering and crying out in pain, Moo had leaped onto Hermione's side of the bed, pawing at her head to awaken the witch. She would surely have to assist the poor sod before he toppled out of bed and made his afflictions worse for the wear.
Hermione instantly scooted closer towards him, hovering over a wide awake Severus, who was shaking uncontrollably, as though he was experiencing a fit of some sort, with beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. "Severus!" she exclaimed, grabbing him by the arms in an attempt to hold him down; her only advantage was that the wizard was presently weaker than her. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Severus kept his eyes shut, though his mouth was open, only small grunts and noises of agony tearing their way out. His convulsions worsened, until it was taking all of Hermione's strength to keep him from throwing them both out of bed.
"Severus! What's going on?" she kept asking, her worry heightening with each passing moment.
"H - H - Him!" he stuttered, barely able to get a word out.
Hermione's eyes enlarged. "What? How? What is he doing to you?"
"M - Mark! It b - burns!"
Hermione drew Severus's quaking left arm from underneath the covers to try to inspect it. Despite his violent trembling, Hermione could tell that the Dark Mark was not only active but its outline was turning a sickening shade of green. She wasn't a Death Eater, but she knew that the ghoulish colouring couldn't be a positive omen. The Dark Lord was probably growing impatient and expecting Severus to answer his summoning, if that's what it was.
Even in the state that he put him in! The twisted fucking bastard!
Hermione's frightened gaze went back and forth between the disturbing marking and Severus's pained expression. "Is he summoning you?" Hermione prayed she was wrong. If this was how Lord Voldemort regularly sent for his most devoted followers, then she couldn't understand how anyone, including Severus, could willingly endure such gruesome rallying. Then again, none of their sensibilities made any sense to her whatsoever.
"N - No," Severus hissed, his grimace tightening as he tried to explain. "Ni – Night t - t - torture... He likes to re - remind us who - whom we serve..."
"He's torturing you?" Hermione repeated, unable to fathom what was taking place, despite what her own eyes foretold. The breadth of hostility was agonizing to watch. "When? How often does he do this to you?"
Severus's dark eyes struggled to open and focus on her, his breathing coming in ragged spurts. "Every...night..."
"Nightly?" Hermione's eyebrows rose to her hairline. "But that Sleeping Draught you put in the tea—"
"Noth - Nothing can override th - this... Not even that..."
Aware after a moment that she had been helplessly staring at the poor man whilst he continued to writhe against the Dark Lord's hold and harassment, and turning and tossing under her grip on him, Hermione hurriedly seized a wet cloth from Severus's bedside table, now lukewarm, and pressed it to his brow, moving it steadily around his face. She couldn't afford to leave him like this, not even to fetch a warm bowl of water, for he might flail out of bed and end up doing more harm to himself.
"I... I'm so sorry, Severus," she gulped as she watched him suffer needlessly, feeling useless. "What can I do? Please tell me."
Severus's eyelids blinked rapidly up at her. "There's no - nothing you can do... Nothing anyone c - c - can do..."
Hermione's frown deepened. "How long does it last? When will it stop?"
"In ano - another twenty m - minutes or s - so..."
Twenty minutes? That terrifying notion flashed across her features, but Hermione kept dabbing the cool cloth against Severus's skin, grateful that he was too preoccupied to take notice of her deepening worries. He wouldn't appreciate them if he knew, she was certain of it.
Suddenly, Hermione had a thought and leaned in closer, catching whiffs of the man's shuddering breaths. "Would really warm water help?" Severus slowly answered by scrunching his eyelids—a minuscule action the clever witch seemed to comprehend—and she smiled delicately down at him, intent on offering some reassurance. "Do you think you can walk, if I assist you? I can run a bath and you could lay in the hot water? It may help with your muscle spasms. They must ache terribly when this is through."
Severus took considerable time to form a reply. "I can tr - try..." he stammered, keeping his intense gaze honed on Hermione, who absolved to leave his side momentarily to run the bath water across the room. She gave his hand a quick squeeze before disappearing into the loo, informing him that she would "be right back."
When Hermione returned a few minutes later, Severus had somehow perched himself into a sitting position, though his trembling had him bent awkwardly at the waist. Keeping mum on that note, however, Hermione decidedly wrapped an arm around him and looped one of his over her shoulder.
"C'mon, let's get you standing first."
Making use of her free hand, Hermione tugged the blankets back to expose Severus's drawn up legs—pale and lanky and shaking—and tucked her arm beneath his knees, bringing them over the side of the bed. She wasn't aware of Severus eying her sidelong all the while, his guilt-ridden countenance and deep blush passing unnoticed. By the time Hermione did peer over at him, the shame had morphed back into one of undisguised pain.
"Whenever you're ready," she stated softly, with a gentle nudge to his shoulder.
Severus gingerly scooted closer to the edge of the bed, pausing momentarily to catch his breath, and then endeavored to rise. His knees were quite wobbly, though, and his balance highly off kilter, causing him to lean more severely on Hermione than he wished.
"I've got you," Hermione insisted, even though she was barely able to stand herself with the far taller wizard digging his weight into her side. For being as undernourished as Severus Snape was, Hermione found him surprisingly solid once he was relying on her to help him walk.
With an arm securely woven around Severus's trim waist, and he inclining into her in order to keep from sinking to the floor, the pair of them shuffled to the loo, the sound of cascading water and the idea of a scorching hot bath prompting Severus onward. The Dark Lord's perverse torment continued, though it had been gradually lessening the past several minutes.
Once they reached the loo, which was filling up with steam, the free-standing tub was nearly full. Hermione bent over to turn off the faucet and dragged Severus closer, scanning his shivering, near naked form over with care; her eyes eventually settled on his face, her demeanor calm and, to Severus, peacefully committed.
"Can you stand on your own for a moment?"
The thought left Severus admittedly uneasy. "I... I think so..."
"I'm going to remove your socks and then help you into the tub, all right?"
Severus's cheeks brightened slightly, cuing Hermione to get on with whatever measures were necessary. He was fully aware of being entirely naked and exposed to the young woman, though she had handled it remarkably well.
Tentatively, Hermione knelt down, her eyes briefly scanning the rather disconcerting bony frame of the wizard in front of her. She lamented not paying closer attention to the man's weight until now. Obviously you weren't thinking about that when he was shagging your brains out, were you? she scolded herself. Then again, whilst Severus bordered on being too slim, definitely affording to gain two or three stone, scrawny or weak in stature he most certainly was not.
Severus shakily lifted each foot to allow Hermione to slip off his socks. She gripped his calves to keep him from stumbling over. If he collapsed, he would surely not only knock himself out, but her as well.
Hermione took a discreet moment to admire his long, elegantly carved toes once again, smiling covertly. It was one of many times now she had paid ample attention to those feet. Merlin, but they were attractive. She would have to remember to tell him sometime.
Hermione tore her gaze away from his perfectly shaped feet and rose to her full height, barely reaching Severus's shoulders. She did her best not to inspect how grossly rawboned, ashen, and cut up he presently was and squeezed his arm.
"Here, let's get you into the tub. If it's too hot, let me know and I'll adjust the water."
With the aid of Hermione to lean on, Severus timidly stepped into the bath, gripping Hermione's hand to keep from nose diving head first. As he sunk down into its warmth, he released a long sigh of relief at how greatly the balmy temperature instantly proceeded to soothe his aching muscles.
Encouraged, Hermione brought Severus's head back against the rim of the tub, and he didn't hesitate to drop his eyelids shut, allowing proper time for his body to bathe itself in the scorching water.
Upon quiet surveillance, Hermione was startled by how rapidly Severus seemed to have aged in the past few hours. It was as if every infernal persecution and misery that had occurred in the wizard's wretched life had manifested tenfold onto his face in less than a day, seeping into every crevice, sharpening especially the set of wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.
Without thinking, Hermione reached out a hand and whisked some lingering hairs away from Severus's face, her fingers finding pause along his brow line. Black eyes wearily reopened to stare up at her, their depths struggling to maintain focus.
"Is it helping?" she inquired softly, finding her hand resuming a delicate stroking along his forehead and into the strands of his greasy hair that were turning silver at their roots. Severus issued no complaint, and, thus, she continued.
"Yes," he whispered in return; his body had nearly ceased shaking altogether.
"I'm glad..."
Hermione's hand slid down the side of Severus's less battered cheek, her thumb thoughtfully tracing the contours of sharp bone structure beneath tight skin. She found the man's features graceful upon closer inspection, and yet, unassuming, dignified and, yes, mistakingly homelier to someone without as keen an eye as hers.
"You rest a while, Severus," Hermione resumed after finding her footing. "I'll look after you."
Thinking he had fallen asleep, for his eyes re-shut and he said nothing else in reply, Hermione made to step away from the tub; but then Severus caught her off guard by murmuring a questionable, "Why?" that took her a moment to unravel.
A host of explanations befell the witch there in his loo, any of which she could have uttered and it would have been the truth. Hadn't she asked him the same question not too long ago?
Because you took the Unbreakable Vow for me and this is the least I can do to repay the depth of your sacrifice on my behalf; because I trust you and want you to get better; because I think, in truth, you're a much better man than the rest of the world perceives you to be and, for whatever reason, you want me to think of you, and I'll continue to refuse to believe that rubbish.
However, Hermione brushed invisible dirt off of her trousers instead and reluctantly met his unnaturally open, drained expression; his eyes were open once more and watching her—always watching, or so it seemed.
"Because I want to help you, Severus."
That was honest enough. She certainly meant it, and Severus appeared to believe her, seeing as his eyebrows came together in befuddlement of her generosity.
"But..." he started, yet the words wandered out of his grasp, which Hermione used to her advantage.
"Don't argue. Now's not the time." She plopped herself down on the toilet lid and crossed her legs. "If you need anything, you let me know, all right? I'll be right here."
Severus's flummoxed stare quietly slipped into a one of relaxation. Before long, he was fast asleep in the tub, though Hermione didn't move from her position all the while, choosing to watch over the man as she had promised. A sorry frown formed on her lips the longer her mind pondered the violent markings on his chest, as well as the cursed torment he had weathered at the Dark Lord's nefarious pleasure from afar.
Did Lord Voldemort do this to all of his followers? Surely, Severus couldn't be the the lunatic's only frequent victim. After all, it was no secret that Severus Snape had long held the distinction of being one of snakeface's most adamant supporters, though not particularly vocal about his politics, so why would the degenerate cause physical pain on a consistent basis to his most trusted servant?
Unless he doesn't trust him... But then, he's a paranoid sod. He probably doesn't trust anyone anymore...
Then Hermione was unforgivingly reminded of something bewildering Severus had shared earlier: 'He likes to remind us whom we serve.' The twisted look that pained her face abated. To invoke fear... Of course! To remind Severus and others close to him to not dare to undermine him.
Suddenly, the distressing cries Hermione had heard soon after arriving at Spinner's End were becoming abominably clear. They weren't night terrors at all, in which Severus might be rehashing haunted memories from the past that Hermione so often had before he began insisting she take that Sleeping Draught to combat their daily re-occurrences, but actual nightly torture sessions cast by an outside source and for which he had no control over—a nauseating gift from the Dark Lord himself.
Hermione quaked the more she contemplated this predicament. It was sickening to think that Severus and others like him, if there were any who, too, were on the side of the Light, were being forced to go through these crippling inflictions every night. Until this last time, Severus had endured them each entirely on his own, even with her just down the hall and within arm's reach to help. How he was able to so speedily recover was another mystery, but Hermione suspected that Severus must have developed a higher tolerance to pain than most over the years, as well as grown immune to pushing himself well beyond his limits.
No wonder he's always looked so sickly and knackered and on the verge of collapsing.
Hermione sighed weightily and dropped her chin into her hand, choosing to study the puzzle currently dozing away in the bathtub, snoring quietly and no longer in danger. That gentle, usually undisclosed serenity again enhanced the tragedy of the situation. To Hermione, the notion that it took something so simple—uninterrupted rest—for Severus Snape to finally unwind and de-stress was terribly grievous.
Hermione's thoughts drifted to more unclear matters they had yet to delve into and get to the bottom of. Severus had told her that he had more information to relay, and, though this certainly wasn't the time for such in depth revelations, Hermione couldn't help but wonder what these secrets might be. It had been shocking enough to learn that her former professor had sought her out abroad to warn her of oncoming danger, as well as traveled such lengths as Australia to reverse the memory charm on her parents, all without her knowledge or the expectance of returned favors.
Or did he intend to make her return the favor and simply hadn't informed her yet?
How bloody conflicting and convoluting Severus Snape was! Every time Hermione thought she was getting closer to figuring him out, something else weaved itself into the man's tangled web of secrecy.
Severus certainly acted like he didn't expect to be repaid, and he had told her as much already. To Hermione, it felt as though he might have been content for her to never discover the debt she truly owed him. When she had thanked him, she hadn't missed his squirming and discomfort, as if he believed he didn't deserve a hair of her appreciation.
Hermione's eyes squinted as they looked over a slumbering Severus, his mostly wet, stringy hair shifted downwards into the tub. What else have you got up your sleeve? she wondered, no longer with suspicion but with open curiosity and admiration. What other good deeds have you left me in the dark about, Severus Snape?
Severus slept for close to an hour in the bath before the water grew lukewarm and thereby spurred him awake. He was, at first, perplexed to find Hermione sitting on the toilet seat where he had last spotted her, and studying him outright at that, until he groggily recalled how he had gotten into this compromising position in the first place. He would never have made such an attempt on his own and was secretively grateful to the bright witch for the idea of dousing his body in hot water, for the bath had done wonders, easing much of the pain in his muscles.
Noticing that he was now awake, Hermione helped a sluggish Severus from the tub, dried him off without a hint of embarrassment about the fact that he was stark naked, and quietly led him back to his bed, where he slumped beneath the covers and promptly nodded off again for the rest of the night; or what little of nightfall remained. It hardly registered to the wizard before he fell into a deep sleep that he was bare save for the towel wrapped conveniently around his midsection. Hermione had intended to remove it once Severus plopped back into bed, but when she detected him snoring almost instantly, she chose not to disturb him and moseyed to the opposite side of the bed to resume watch.
Hermione lay awake on top of the covers for a short time before the coldness in the room brought a shiver coursing down her spine. The fire in the hearth had long died out and, without a wand, she suspected that she would be of little use getting it going again, so she carefully lifted the covers and sought warmth beneath them, adjusting silently so as not to wake Severus.
Soon Hermione, too, drifted into unconsciousness, whilst Moo positioned himself between the pair of them, his fluffy tail curling unnoticeably into the sleeping man's disheveled hair as it dried against his pillow.
Severus's legs rustled beneath the covers. Bed... Warmth... No pain in chest... His droopy eyelids opened to the serene stillness of his darkened quarters, the soft pitter patter of rain hitting against the glass windows well concealed behind long emerald curtains, and a densely dozing Hermione at his side. What the...?
In the midst of sleep, the young witch had somehow maneuvered her way over to his side of the bed, and Severus found he and Hermione now laying nearly nose to nose.
In an instant, his head shot up from his pillow, which motivated Moo to meow and paw at the wizard's dangling hair that was within reach. Severus scowled at the bothersome pound of fur and, disgruntled, shooed the kitten's paw away with his hand. Moo, however, thinking it was all a game, made a decisive leap for Severus's nose and chose to paw at that overpowering feature as well.
Severus let out a growl of frustration. "Get away, you nuisance!" he ground out between his teeth.
The playful feline supposedly didn't understand that this wasn't fun and games for one of them, but Severus suspected otherwise. The cat had proved that he was fairly intuitive and repeatedly pushed his luck, such as now, as he endured pawing at Severus's overly large nose despite the man's grouchy attempts to push him away.
Aggravated, Severus moved away, as his nose was starting to tickle. He shook his face free of the cat's clutches, hitched a few breaths, and ended up stifling two loud sneezes into a cupped hand. Such unexpected noise proved enough persuasion for Moo to, at last, leave the touchy man alone. With his hair standing on end, the kitten sought shelter on Hermione's pillow instead, though she, too, was beginning to stir.
Damn it, Severus cursed the bloody cat's intrusion and rubbed desperately at his nose. He had no intention of disturbing Hermione's sleep; she certainly deserved to rest after putting up with his incapacitated state last night. There hadn't been much time to reflect on all the concerned witch had done for him, but the level of dedication for which Severus was indebted to Hermione for looking after him was indeed overwhelming, and touched him more than he cared to admit. I need a fag, he decided immediately, too confounded to contemplate this right now. He quickly leaned over and extracted a cigarette from inside his bedside table drawer.
When Severus chanced peering over at Hermione, he found those inviting eyes were open and staring at him. To add to his breathless surprise, her attractive lips were curled into a sleepy smile as well.
"Hey," she mumbled and stretched her arms lazily over her head. Her arm unintentionally smacked Moo in the face, who let out an affronted meow and flopped onto his mistress's chest. "Oh! Sorry, Moo, I didn't see you there."
Although insulted, the kitten began to purr as soon as Hermione scratched apologetically underneath his chin. She giggled, amused with her fiery-tempered familiar, and turned her attention back to Severus, who was being entirely too quiet to her liking, and also trying rather warily to sit upright with his unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. He sniffed a few times, which reminded Hermione what had originally roused her from sleep.
"Bless you, by the way."
She noticed his cheeks burn red at that and found it ridiculously endearing for some reason, though she rightfully chose to keep it to herself. "My apologies," he grumbled into his chest, refusing to meet her gaze as he proceeded to light his cigarette, "I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's all right." Hermione eyed him over curiously. "You're not allergic to cats, are you?"
Severus shot her a bemused regard after taking his first puff. "What? No. Why?"
"Oh, good! I wanted to be sure you weren't having a reaction to Moo."
"No, your blasted cat was up in my face is all," he snarled unpleasantly, and the smirk Hermione had been trying to suppress twisted its way onto her face.
"I'll try to keep him from harassing you."
Severus snorted and flicked stray hairs out of his eyes, which Hermione noted were quite heavy-lidded, as though he had managed very little sleep after all. "Good luck. My efforts haven't stopped your insolent beast yet."
"Well, then I'll try to keep Moo from harassing you too much."
"Fair enough."
Severus took another puff of his cigarette, the faintest of a smile breaking out on his otherwise weary-looking countenance, its presence as fleeting as it was rare. Then and there, Hermione nearly lost track of what they were discussing. She blinked hard and that gravitating smile of his was, sadly, gone. She quickly made to clear her throat and take back control of her lack of discretion.
"How are you feeling now?"
Her inquiry caused Severus to offer her that infamous grimace again. "Better. Not one hundred percent but...improved from last night."
"I'm really glad to hear it."
Severus raised a dubious eyebrow. "Are you?"
Hermione's eyes expanded. "Yes, of course! You were bleeding and in horrible shape!"
Severus coolly inhaled his cigarette again, exhaling with a modest "I apologize for alarming you," without meeting her gaze—at first.
"It's all right, Severus; goodness knows, it wasn't your fault. I - I just wasn't certain if you were going to be okay." She swallowed hard and swiftly focused on Moo, finding it too difficult suddenly to speak.
As disturbed as Severus was to discover visual confirmation that Hermione Granger, on some peculiar level he still couldn't comprehend, actually cared about his welfare, he pushed the clinging emotions it stirred to the farthest recesses of his mind. No, she must be overreacting to the idea of losing him; no one had ever cared whether Severus lived or died in this blasted war, not even Albus if his death served to merit a greater purpose to the cause, and Severus, of course, was well attuned at this point to the young witch being prone to moments of irrational emotion.
It would be foolish and imprudent of this brilliant young woman sharing Severus's bed to return his elderly, damaged regard for her. He could clearly sense it now.
No... You mustn't let your sentiments become an issue. You have things to tell her, Severus; things to help her accomplish. You can't afford to let your bloody emotions trip everything up more than they already have!
"Thank you," Severus fumbled over his appreciation for her services the previous night, his sensitive words bringing Hermione's genial attention back to him in a heartbeat. "Thank you for...for looking after me. You did far more than was necessary, so I... Well, I thank you, all the same. It was a tremendous help."
Although his remarks sounded rather cumbersome to the ears, Hermione didn't care. His expression meant a great deal to her.
The sincere smile that stretched across Hermione's cheeks—utterly captivating, as was the frizzy mop sprouting every which direction from atop her head—imprinted on Severus's guarded sentiments, making him feel suddenly both ill-footed and, at the same time, further enthralled. He wasn't accustomed to offering up apologies or expressing his appreciation to others, for it happened so infrequently. Thus, he awaited Hermione's response with nervous anticipation and puffed away on his cigarette, noting that she appeared quite appeased with things.
"You're welcome," Hermione finally uttered back, pausing to scratch Moo behind the ears, "but you needn't thank me, really. I'm just relieved you're feeling better this morning. Is there anything else I can do to help?"
She chanced a peek at the slashes along his chest, and it was only then that Severus became acutely aware that he was naked beneath the covers. Mistaking Hermione's glance over for his lack of proper dress—Fuck! Why didn't she at least have the decency to put me in new ruddy underwear?—Severus bustled the duvet up to his chest as she had done last time they shared a bed together, holding the sheets firmly in place.
"Those wounds," Hermione ignored Severus's humiliation and nodded to them considerately, "I should take another look at them. Perhaps you have some Dittany I could use that might help them heal faster? I couldn't find any in your drawer last night."
Hermione scooted closer, but Severus's next statement stopped her. "No, there wouldn't be. I ran out up here and forgot to restock."
Severus paused to finish his cigarette, cast it out on his bedside table and left a burnt mark in the wood that made Hermione frown, and seized his wand from underneath his pillow. He pulled the covers down to his waist with reluctance and whispered an Accio incantation that, in seconds, had his bedroom door momentarily opening to allow a phial of Dittany to spring into his outstretched hand.
As Severus started to uncork the phial, however, he found Hermione's hand abruptly in front of him. "Here, let me," she insisted, though Severus merely ogled her, flustered by yet more of her unfailing generosity. What the hell was with her?
"It's quite all right, Hermione. I can handle this myself."
Hermione amusedly shook her head. "Severus, please allow me? I'm offering."
"I know you are but—"
"No 'buts'. Give me that."
With a quick swipe, Hermione plucked the phial from Severus's hand and unplugged it herself. Shooting him an assertive smile that chided him to comply, unless he wished to ruin the newfound peace between them, Severus scowled and grumbled under his breath, giving forth his consent to let her have her way—this time. He gingerly fell back against his pillows and coiled the covers between clenched fingers. Receiving Dittany to wounds was never a pleasant experience, and he wasn't particularly fond of enduring it whilst Hermione was in the room, too.
Meanwhile, Hermione had brushed up against Severus, thinking nothing of the fact that he was both in a vulnerable state but also completely bare beneath the blankets; or, if she did remember, she was making quite the impressive feat of acting like it didn't daunt her one bit. To Severus, however, having that fleeting contact of skin on skin caused his bits to stir eagerly beneath the sheets.
Doesn't bloody take much for you, does it? he scolded himself.
That moment of arousal was drowned out seconds later, though, for Severus was soon wincing in pain as the healing liquid was dabbled over his wounds. He thought he detected Hermione make a small noise—something akin to a whimper, either of sympathy or an apology for what she was doing—but his eyes were tightly squeezed shut and his thoughts preoccupied with thwarting off the painful stinging sensation.
"Easy, easy. I'm almost done, I promise," Hermione whispered apologetically. "Almost done."
"It won't...completely rid my body...of the scars," Severus explained through gritted teeth, sensing Hermione's frustrations as the seconds ticked by. "Too much time...has passed."
"Damn it!" Hermione huffed. "I should've asked you where you kept any extra last night! I wasn't thinking straight."
"I was in no condition to give you instructions."
"Even so—"
"This isn't your fault, Hermione."
A strange silence settled after that. A minute or two later, the burning on Severus's skin cooled, much to both of their relief. A brush of calming, warm water was unexpectedly blotted several times along his forehead, though, and, slowly, the tension in Severus's face dissipated. He opened his eyes to the heart-wrenching sight of Hermione hovering over him, eying him in a manner that felt all wrong, for he didn't deserve it, whatever it was—warmth? Sympathy? It didn't matter, for it wasn't his to receive.
Yet, Severus secretly thirsted for more. He gulped down his reservations and simply allowed this doting woman with unruly hair that was too big for her head and kind eyes that were far too expressive for the perilous times they lived in to continue on with her tender ministrations. Her fuzzy, maddening curls kept tickling his ears and neck as she wiped the wet cloth over his face, then his neck and, lastly, his chest, her gestures so gentle and unassuming that, after a time, Severus's eyes fluttered closed.
Before Severus could entirely doze off, however, Hermione piped up next to him, "Severus? I know you probably need more rest, but I just want to ask you something..."
"And what is that?" he mumbled in his sleep-induced state.
Hermione bit her lower lip and touched his shoulder with her free hand. "Why did the Dark Lord do this to you? Did something happen? Did he uncover something about you he shouldn't have?"
When Severus didn't reply, Hermione sensed that she might have lost her chance and slumped her shoulders, believing Severus had fallen asleep on her.
As Hermione made to lay her head down on the pillow beside him, Severus suddenly muttered listlessly, with his eyes still closed, "Apparently, your friend is alive and well...and that displeases him. Displeases him enough to ensure that I understand that I owe him my loyalty...and to uncover more..."
Every hair on the back of Hermione's neck stood on end, as did her head from the pillow on which she rested. "What?" she blurted out louder than she meant to. Her hand that still held the cloth stopped moving, the fabric draped over Severus's wound-ridden chest.
Severus opened his eyes halfway and rolled his head towards her, holding her alarmed stare. Despite his exhaustion, Severus could decipher how Hermione had grown both startled and terribly confused by what he had dumped on her.
"Potter's in Moscow...and the Dark Lord is nervous...and angry. Very angry."
Hermione didn't so much as blink. "But that... That's impossible!" she stuttered, struggling to breathe. "Harry's dead! He's dead! We all saw him die!"
"Yes, we did." To Hermione's dumbfoundedness, Severus's scrutinizing midnight eyes turned gentler, even apologetic. "It's all to foil the Dark Lord, and this was the best method worth pursuing...to us..."
"Wha - What are you talking about? Who specifically do you mean by 'us'? I don't understand."
"No, you wouldn't. You haven't been made privy to—"
"Severus, what's going on? What do you mean that Harry's in Moscow? How can that possibly be?"
"Because he isn't, I'm afraid; well, not really. The Dark Lord believes he is, though, and it's imperative that he continue to think so."
Hermione's furrowed brow lessened as the revelation sunk in. "So, someone else is posing as Harry," she murmured, awestruck. She leaned in closer, hell-bent on uncovering more. "But why?"
"I shall tell you," Severus assured her softly; his words were slurring as sleep beckoned, his eyelids crashing shut. "But not now... Later, Hermione... Later..."
As the hard lines marring his weathered countenance reduced to next to nothing, Hermione casually brought a hand to Severus's cheek. 'Foil the Dark Lord,' he had said... A lookalike Harry in Moscow... An apologetic expression for taking such a measure with my dead friend... Hermione's thumb brushed over the side of Severus's face several times more.
"He hurt you...because you acted like you didn't know," Hermione reiterated aloud in an effort to better piece together this heart-racing riddle. "Yet, you do know quite a great deal, and..." She paused and sucked in a shaky breath. "And the Dark Lord thinks I'm somehow involved, doesn't he?"
"Mmmhmm," Severus confirmed, his reply no more than a whisper. His breathing became deep and rhythmic and he said no more.
Hermione stared on as the wizard fell into a heavy sleep, though, her eyes wide with dread.
A/N #2: If I can't convince myself of someone defying death three times, then I can't write it. Alas, I'm afraid Harry really is dead.
This was quite a long chapter and I have a great deal more to write before the next installment will be posted, but hopefully upcoming chapters will be worth the wait...
Thank you in advance, again, to those who review...