A/N: Hey, hey, hey, y'all :) Welcome to our next installment. This picks up on the same morning as the previous chapter (the morning after Hermione fled the lab and Severus remembers the kiss) this one just starts off from her perspective. Hope you enjoy it :) Sorry for any typos, I only gave this a quick, final read.
"It's so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me."
-Sylvia Plath
Weary.
Exhausted.
Heart broken.
Completely and utterly spent.
As the sun broke over the towering mountains, Hermione awoke feeling far more wretched than when she had fallen asleep the night before.
Sitting up slowly in her small bed, she realized that every damn thing, from the top of her head straight down to the tips of her toes, seemed to hurt, including her poor, useless heart.
Although her broken arm had healed overnight, it still ached in its sling; a sharp pain shooting up her bicep and searing a nerve in her neck, had, in fact, been her morning wake-up call.
Her back felt sore, as well, thoroughly tense and knotted as if she had lifted boulders all day rather than brewed a potion.
Her head pounded with each heartbeat, so much so that even the tips of her hair hurt.
Her legs felt heavy and weak as she wearily stood and made her way to the bathroom.
But above all these bothersome, physical maladies, it was her heart that stung the most, the one organ impervious to magical remedies. She marveled at her own physical and emotional frailty and wondered, not for the first time, just how fragile she truly was.
What was the culprit for waking up this sore and depleted? She hadn't worked that hard yesterday, she should've felt at least a smidgen better given all the potions Madam Pomfrey had forced upon her before bed, but in fact the opposite was proving true. She felt terrible.
Was it the malaise, or whatever was behind it, rearing its head once more? The lack of sleep? Or was her blasted heart behind this stupendous funk?
Probably all three, she wagered.
A hot shower, fresh clothes and even a touch of blush did little to help brighten her mood or appearance, or, more importantly, dampen the worries that plagued her mind all night.
A good night sleep, as Madam Pomfrey had suggested the night before, would have no doubt helped with all these aches and pains. Sadly, she managed precious little sleep and was acutely regretting that loss now.
Crumpling the sheets and displacing Crookshanks to an adjoining chair with all her tossing and turning, Hermione barely managed a few moments of solid sleep before startling awake, her mind spinning with so many thoughts and worries. Over and over again, she would nod off only to jerk awake a moment later, her mind viciously fighting sleep with thoughts about the castle, the health of all the good people there, about how strikingly beautiful and charming Narcissa Malfoy was and how foolish Hermione felt for letting her guard down. The darker the thoughts became, the farther she slipped from sleep's tenuous grasp. And so she found herself, barely awake and barely ambulatory once more, facing another long day full of work and, no doubt, disappointment.
After her third, consecutive, unsuccessful attempt to tie her hair in a ponytail the muggle way, with a bum arm, no less, Hermione's temper reared and she shouted, "Damnit!", as she angrily threw her hair brush into the garbage bin. The resulting crash of wood against the metal bin startled her poor cat and caused him to fall off the toilet ledge and land on the cold tile with an impressive thud.
"Sorry, Crooks," Hermione sighed, looking dejected.
Crookshanks shot her an annoyed glare and slipped out of the bathroom, wisely taking this as his cue to leave his master alone in peace.
Leaning her already-weary arm against the sink and staring at her haggard face in the mirror, Hermione groaned.
Eying her frizzy curls with a scowl, she immediately thought of the long, pin-straight golden locks of another woman, one far more refined and desirable than herself. Hermione felt her stomach lurch painfully, for not the first time that morning.
Out of options, she grabbed her wand from the counter and cleared her mind, focusing her energy on recalling the simple hair-fastening charm that Parvati had taught her in her third-year.
Given her aching body and lethargy, she assumed her magical reserve was also still quite low but given the fact that her unruly locks where no match against muggle-means and her sore arm, she thought she'd at least give the spell a shot.
After a moment, she managed to cast a fastening charm on her hair to tie it up in a loose bun and the magic held, but just barely. With wisps and tendrils immediately springing loose, she could tell the finished product was a sloppy job that would barely last the morning, let alone the whole day. Her still ineffectual level of magic left her frustrated and worried.
I wish he were here to fix my hair. He did it so perfectly, she thought with a small, wistful smile.
Not now, I have more important matters to attend to, she thought angrily, shoving her longing deep down and focusing on her plans for the day instead.
After laboring through her morning routine, she finally relented and swallowed a pain potion Madam Pomfrey had given her the evening before. She hated taking them but knew she wouldn't be able to get through the long day without some relief. Swallowing it in one, the pain reduced slightly.
Exiting through the portrait hole, her clipboard tucked under her good arm, she went to turn down the east corridor and head toward the infirmary when she saw her favorite tapestry once more and she stopped.
The brooding knight and the woodland nymph; light and dark, wanting and wary.
The knight, stoic and reserved as always, stood off to the side, his face set in stony indifference, as he tended to his horse. The merry wood nymph, smiling and gentle as always, tried in vain once more to capture his attention with her flute-playing and dancing. But still, he ignored her.
When will she ever learn? Hermione thought sadly, unable to deny the sorrow she felt at watching the foolish nymph be cast aside time and time again.
She ran her hands along the tapestry hem and felt the magical hum of the object flow through her fingers, and she smiled slightly. But as she went to withdraw her hand, the magical vibration from the tapestry seemed to ebb slightly, almost hiccuping in her hand. And she frowned at this, eyeing the tapestry a moment with a critical eye.
The wood nymph and knight were still there, but their movements seemed to halt a moment, freezing them for but a second. Blinking quickly at the oddity, the vibration suddenly hummed steadily again in her hands and the knight and nymph resumed their endless afternoon picnic.
Hermione shook her head slightly, wondering if she had imagined the sudden magical
interruption. She was still tired and healing and rationalized that her eyes must have been playing tricks upon her.
Straightening up, she turned and headed down a deserted corridor to her meeting. But the thought that this little hiccup had been more than a figment of her imagination nagged at the back of her tired brain until she found herself at the hallway to the infirmary.
She could hear laughter spilling from the infirmary as she approached. It sounded half-full when Hermione arrived at a quarter-past eight, only fifteen minutes until the meeting was set to begin. She had planned this purposely, she didn't want to be alone with her professor again, so she waited until she knew it was safe and others would be present.
Her hand poised against the wood, she said a silent prayer that he wasn't there yet, truthfully, she wasn't ready to face him at all.
She quietly opened the door and poked her head in, scanning the room quickly. She gave a soft sigh when she realized that, of the many people seated on infirmary beds and sipping tea, Professor Snape wasn't one of them for he hadn't arrived yet.
Feeling her nerves calm slightly, she entered and closed the door. As she did so, the various conversations were halted and tea cups left abandoned as the dozen or so inhabitants all rose to greet her, all smiling and happy to see her up and about after the terrifying events of the previous few days.
"Hermione! There you are!" shouted Harry as he bounded over to greet her, pulling her in for a gentle hug. "I swung by yesterday to see you but Madam Pomfrey said you were busy. Where were you?"
"Hermione, how are you feeling?" asked Neville and Luna, both before her now and smiling brightly.
"Is your arm still hurt?" asked Pomona.
"Are you all better?" piped up Aurora.
"What caused you to faint, dear?" inquired Filius.
Hermione felt suddenly dizzy and overwhelmed by all the attention and questions. All her well-meaning friends and professors surrounded her and she didn't know where to even begin. Luckily she didn't have to.
"Enough with the inquisition! My girl's been through enough!" barked Sirius as he bustled through the crowd like a protective mother hen.
Hermione smiled and breathed a sigh of relief as the raven-haired animagus scooped her up in his strong arms and pulled her in for a breathtaking hug, squeezing her so tightly she could only smile at the fierceness with which he held her.
"Can't breathe," she half-laughed, half-winced, earning her a few hearty chuckles from the crowd, but Sirius merely held on tight, his face buried in her hair.
"You really scared us, love," he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. "Don't do that again," he gently chastised, and as he pulled back slightly to cup her face. She could see tears glistening in his dark eyes.
"I promise," she smiled, blushing slightly from all the attention and the sudden warmth of his hands against her cheeks.
"Well, I think I can speak for all of us that we're just glad you're feeling better," Remus piped-up, as the crowd parted and allowed Sirius to help Hermione to a seat on an adjoining cot.
"How about some tea?" Remus kindly inquired and Hermione gratefully accepted as she leaned on Sirius for support.
But as she made her way to a free bed, all of her friends eager to hear about her recovery, she saw Draco sitting off on a cot to the side, by himself, quietly watching her. He looked even more pale than usual, his dark slacks smudged with dirt and his usual smirk mysteriously absent as a look of raw curiosity and concern took shape upon his tired face.
She excused herself from Sirius, Harry and Remus and crossed the room, coming to a stop right before the young Slytherin.
He stood and gave her a small nod, still looking unsure of himself.
"Granger, good to see you up and about. Feeling alright?" he carefully asked, eyeing her injured arm.
"Yes, a bit better now...thanks to you," she offered with a warm smile.
He looked pointedly at his shoes and shoved his hands in his pockets.
"It's my fault you got hurt in the first place," he softly admitted.
"It wasn't your fault I collapsed. And I would've been crushed had you not gotten me out of there in time. I can't begin to properly thank you," she said sincerely.
"Listen, it's not a big deal, alright," he countered, looking away again, trying to hide his anguish and guilt.
"It is actually," she uttered earnestly.
He sighed and brought his gaze back to her, his eyes sweeping across the bruise that still lingered on her pale neck, on her injured arm and he simply shook his head.
"You were so hurt," he uttered softly. "There was so much blood…I could've done better."
He looked on the verge of tears when she reached forward and took his hand in hers.
"You could have hightailed it and let me be crushed to death and you didn't," she uttered sincerely, squeezing his hand.
"You're making me out to be a hero and I'm not," he retorted, angrily pulling his hand from hers.
"Look," he snapped, trying to find his composure once more, but failing at that, relying on his usual anger, "I don't want this to become some weird thing between us, Granger. I was looking out for myself and you happened to benefit, that's all."
"Oh, would you please shut up for a second and just accept my heartfelt gratitude?" she asked, looking exasperated.
He made to disagree once more when she boldly clasped him with her good arm and pulled him in for a tight hug. He resisted the embrace for a moment before she spoke again.
"Thank you, Draco. Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she clutched at him. "You deserve my thanks. You did a wonderful, selfless thing for me. I'm honestly proud of you."
His steadfast bravado faded unexpectedly at this and his rigid posture relaxed slightly at these words.
No one had ever said they were proud of him and it took him by surprise that this woman, the one he had tormented for years would ever think, let alone say, such words of praise to him.
His head bowed and for once, he gave in to the feeling of being vulnerable and honest. He brought his hands up and gently embraced her.
"You're welcome, Hermione," he whispered. "And…thank you."
"For what?"
"For saying all that. It…it means a lot," he quietly admitted, his cheeks blushing slightly from the unfamiliar sensation of being honest.
"I meant it," she offered earnestly.
He nodded, reluctantly accepting the praise.
"This doesn't mean we're friends, you know," he teased, the smile apparent in his voice.
"No, no, of course not. Sworn enemies for life," she softly chuckled.
"Good. Glad that's cleared up," he answered, pulling away from her with a small, tentative smile.
She smiled and took his hand in her own once more.
"Come... sit with us," she offered, pulling him slightly toward her waiting friends.
A flicker of doubt crossed his face at this. He had worked with Harry and Neville the day before and the trio had done a decent job not killing one another, but the notion of socializing seemed strange if not outright ludicrous. "I…I'm not sure I'm welcome," he admitted, eyeing her friends across the room.
"You're more than welcome…trust me," she softly uttered with a reassuring nod.
He looked conflicted and highly uncomfortable but followed all the same.
She returned once more to her small band of friends, and Harry was the first to stand and make room, not only for Hermione but also for Draco. The Slytherin offered a begrudging smile in return.
As Remus kindly refilled her tea cup multiple times and Sirius doted upon her, the infirmary slowly filled with faculty and noise alike. With the small room bustling with activity, Hermione proceeded, in hushed tones, to fill her friends in on her day of brewing the powerful health potion and the intricacies of the diagnostic potion, how everyone would need to ingest both in order for them to gain a better understanding of what was behind the weakness.
She conveniently left out that she had walked in on Severus and Narcissa and how she subsequently fled the lab like her hair was on fire.
Hermione had taken a seat with her back to the door, forcibly denying herself the chance to look at who was entering. But every time the door swished open, her head automatically turned, both hoping and dreading the chance to see him, but after twenty minutes there was still no sign of the potions master.
Just then, Narcissa entered the infirmary and paused at the door, her eyes sweeping across the room.
Looking for him, aren't you? Not enough to have one man, a woman like you certainly deserves two, Hermione thought bitterly, watching the pure-blood like a hawk.
But as Narcissa's gaze settled upon Draco and saw him talking amicably with Neville and Harry, Narcissa seemed to relax just a touch as a small smile settled upon her porcelain face. She leaned against the doorway and watched her only son with an almost-relieved, hopeful look. Seemingly satisfied that she had found what she was looking for, Narcissa crossed to the table set with tea service, fixed herself a cup and sat down beside Pomona and Irma and began quietly chatting with the pair.
Hermione frowned at her own misjudgment. It would seem Narcissa hadn't been looking for Professor Snape after all. Perhaps there wasn't anything between the willowy pure-blood and the potions master after all?
Maybe he isn't spoke for, she hoped, wished and silently prayed.
But the sweet thought was quickly swept away as the memory of her professor clutching the beautiful blonde tight in his arms flashed across her mind.
Even if he isn't spoken for, do you really think he could ever be yours?
And just like that, the good mood brought on by her friends, and that had momentarily bolstered her flagging spirits, disappeared as this weighty reality settled upon her.
"You sure you're feeling up to working today, love?" Sirius asked, noting how quiet and withdrawn she had become.
He pressed a hand to her head, feeling for a temperature and frowning.
"You're quite warm, love. Maybe you should rest today," he noted, looking worried.
"Nonsense, I'm fine, really. Just tired," she answered briskly, trying to dismiss his valid concern and shake the worry from her voice. "And I'm just waiting for Madam Pomfrey to check on my arm once more and then I can remove the sling. Should be all healed by now," she uttered confidently.
While the others continued chatting, she distracted herself by revising and amending her work list, at least it gave her mind something else to ponder besides the heavy weight that sat in her chest.
While the rest of the faculty and house elves arrived, another thirty minutes ticked by with no sign of Minerva, Poppy or Severus. The morning meeting couldn't begin without the headmistress, so they all waited but the occupants were getting restless.
"Merlin, when is this gonna get started?" Sirius grumbled as he fixed himself his third cup of tea.
"Hopefully soon," said Remus, "I have work at noon," looking out the tall window at the sun, already high in the morning sky.
"Can't you just dispatch us both somewhere," Sirius complained, glancing at Hermione's ever-present check list. "How about there," he said pointing "Great Hall, ceiling enchantment, we can start there."
But Hermione only shook her head firmly, noting the time, "The diagnostic potion should be ready by now. Everyone will need to take it" she offered in hushed tones. "You included."
Sirius scoffed at this, "I'm not the one who passed out. I feel fine."
"Nevertheless, everyone must be tested so we can establish a baseline measure of health," she murmured, looking uneasy at the task that lay ahead.
She eyed the faculty and elves and wondered how they would take the news that they might be poisoned. From the looks of disgruntled exhaustion that she found in many of their faces, she couldn't imagine this potential scenario would be well-received.
Just then, angry voices could be heard out in the hallway, the muffled utterances growing louder and clearer for several beats until finally the infirmary doors were suddenly jerked open and an unmistakable fight spilled into the room.
"No! Now that's the end of it, Severus!" came Minerva's barking command from the hallway, which carried across the packed room and caused all chatter to immediately cease.
Minerva swept into the room, her eyes set with anger and her nostrils flared in annoyance, bearing striking resemblance to a Hungarian horntail.
Severus entered the infirmary next, not looking much better, his face like thunder and his arms weighed down with several trays full of corked vials. He set them atop the nearest bed and stood beside Minerva, brooding quietly as he faced the crowd. Finally, Poppy brought up the rear, closing the door behind her, looking as flustered and bothered as a wet hen. All three looked stern and on-edge, their grim countenances doing little to dispel the sense of unease that permeated the room.
"Good morning, everyone," Minerva said with a sigh, looking frazzled and exhausted as she stood before the crowd, cane in hand.
"Before work begins today, we need to discuss a small matter," Minerva said, clearing her throat as she looked up at the group, slightly more composed.
"As you all know, some of us have been experiencing some magical energy loss and before we can continue working, everyone will need to see Poppy for a full physical and some preventative medications to help with any exhaustion."
"Preventative medications?" asked Pomona, "You're concerned about long-term damage?"
"Yes, we're concerned about exhaustion at the moment and with everyone working so hard, I would be remiss to allow anyone to work themselves to the point of harm," replied Minerva.
"So this is just for our well-being. There's not some bigger issue here?" Aurora asked, a bit sharply, several others nodding in agreement.
Minerva paused for but a second, a flicker of doubt crossing her aged face. But it passed quickly before she said, "No, Aurora, no larger issues at the moment, we just need to make sure everyone is in tip-top form."
"She didn't say anything about checking for poison," Sirius whispered to Hermione and Remus, who both looked perturbed at Minerva's omission and withholding of information.
Hermione sighed at this and finally looked at Severus. He looked like he could breathe fire at the headmistress but kept his mouth shut, his jaw clenched tight from the looks of it.
So that's what they had been arguing about, Hermione realized; whether or not to inform the faculty about possible causes for the magical malaise. From the looks of it, Severus had been in favor of full transparency while Minerva was clearly in favor of a more veiled approach.
"She must not want to alarm anyone until she has some concrete evidence," Remus quietly offered trying to justify her behavior, but Hermione still felt her temper rise at how Minerva was choosing to handle the situation.
Hermione frowned as she realized Minerva had inherited more from Professor Dumbledore than just his office and title. Hadn't Minerva learned anything from his own obfuscation? Lies, half-truths, secrets and omissions rarely helped during troubling times and in fact usually had the opposite effect of engendering quite a bit of resentment and anger amongst followers. Minerva was skating a delicate line between shielding her employees and hoodwinking them and Hermione didn't like it one bit.
"After everyone has been cleared physically," Minerva continued, "we'll return to work after lunch with the four-partner schedule."
"For how long will we remain in groups of four?" asked Draco.
"For the time being," Minerva vaguely replied.
"But, headmistress," Hermione interrupted, standing suddenly, her face flushed, "our September opening depends upon a tight reconstruction schedule. By my estimates, if we stay in groups of four for longer than one more week we will not be able to open in September."
Minerva pursed her lips at this and nodded thoughtfully before responding.
"Well then, we will revisit this topic in a week's time and hopefully by then we will all be feeling well enough to return to a two-person work rotation and keep our September opening," she offered, clearly itching to be done with this particular line of questioning.
"And if we aren't well enough?" Hermione boldly countered.
Minerva sighed, "If fatigue is still an issue in a week's time, I will speak with the board of trustees and attempt to arrange a delayed opening…a January start date perhaps."
"But Minerva, what will all the students do!?" Hermione exclaimed, looking positively livid at the mere thought of pushing the reopening so far in advance.
Several people exchanged worried looks at this outburst, Severus in particular taking note of just how upset she had become at the mere mention of delay.
Hermione reddened slightly at the looks she was receiving and tried a calmer approach.
"I just worry about the students, is all," Hermione said more softly, trying to appear a bit more composed.
"Students and their families will make due," Minerva said consolingly.
Hermione sat down with a sigh, looking worse for the wear.
Severus watched as Sirius leaned closer to her, whispered something into her ear and wrapped a consoling arm around her slim shoulder. She gave a weak smile to him and nodded, but still looked plagued. The pure-blood's arm draped around her made Severus' gut clench with anger.
Sensing that Minerva was eager to be done with the inquisition, Poppy stepped forward and said, "Alright then, if everyone would kindly form a queue in the hallway, we will begin the examinations. Hermione will be assisting me and Severus and Minerva will observe."
People grumbled and groused but filed out of the infirmary and formed a line beside the doorway, leaving the quartet to begin their delicate work.
Hermione had pulled everyone's medical charts the night before and rose to fetch them from Poppy's desk. Tucking them awkwardly in her unslung arm, she turned to walk back to the front table full of potions when Severus appeared beside her.
"Allow me," he uttered softly, his earlier anger replaced by genuine concern as he reached out to take the files from her. But Hermione only shrunk from his touch.
"No, thank you, sir. I'll make due just fine," she offered crisply as she skirted around him and joined Poppy again, her mouth set in a firm line.
Severus sighed and rejoined the ladies, ready for the difficult day to begin.
The first patient to be called in was Aurora.
Sitting down heavily upon a bed with an aggravated huff, Poppy began examining her, carefully waving her wand over her body, while Hermione took notes. Aurora merely crossed her arms and eyed Severus and Minerva who stood off to the side, with a sharp, calculating look.
"There's something you're not telling us," Aurora noted.
"Aurora, please don't stir the pot needlessly," Minerva begged, sighing heavily as she adjusted her cane.
Aurora regarded her a moment, her mouth set in a tight frown, before looking away in stony silence.
Poppy continued her examination, asking a variety of questions to accompany her wand.
"Any exhaustion?"
"Some," Aurora grumbled, looking highly aggravated.
"Muscle weakness? Insomnia? Headaches?"
"On occasion, nothing too bad," Aurora conceded.
"How about your magical reserve? Performing spells with a normal level of proficiency?"
Aurora sighed and shook her head, "No. A bit weak in that department. Smaller enchantments are not a problem, but larger concentrations of magic have been tough to pull off lately and afterwards, I feel quite drained."
At this, Severus crossed his arms and gave Minerva a meaningful look, which Minerva studiously ignored.
Poppy gave a nod and with a sharp swish of her wand, a red feathery light, full of dancing numbers, emitted from Aurora's side, indicating her various vital statistics.
Poppy frowned slightly as she read them silently while Hermione marked them in the medical chart
"Alright," Poppy announced, a vial of potion now in-hand, "next up, you'll need to ingest a diagnostic potion."
"What does it diagnosis exactly?" Aurora asked looking past Poppy and right at Severus, hoping for a straight answer.
Minerva shot him a stern look and he paused a moment before answering.
"It examines your blood composition and can detect vitamin and mineral levels, the presence of any viruses or infections... among other foreign substances," he carefully answered.
"Foreign substances? Like poison," Aurora questioned, her eyebrow quirked in suspicion.
"Yes," Severus answered plainly.
"It determines the presence of a myriad of diseases and infections. It's used as a broad diagnostic tool," Minerva added, looking aggravated once more.
Aurora shook her head, scoffing, looking a cross between astonished and disappointed.
"Very well," she intoned as she took the vial from Poppy and swallowed the potion, grimacing at the bitter taste. Within thirty seconds, another feathery ribbon emitted from her body, this one a faint green and containing another complex line of various numbers and symbols.
Severus stepped forward, alongside Poppy and Hermione, to exam and decipher the code, causing Hermione to take a sizable step back. The move, indicating again just how little she wished to be near him, caused his heart to sink.
After scanning the numbers for several long beats, Hermione recorded the information on her chart, the trio curiously quiet.
"We've all been weak and you know as well as the rest of us that this is more than exhaustion. You're keeping something from us," Aurora announced, her eyes narrowing at Minerva with unbridled contempt.
"We are looking into the matter but can not say anything further at this time," Minerva conceded, which caused Aurora to chuckle darkly.
"With an answer like that you should've gone into politics, Minerva," Aurora bit out, crossing her arms and looking away.
"Aurora, try and see things from my position," Minerva softened.
"I'm trying, Minerva, we all are," Aurora snapped. "Why do you think we're all here?! We're on the same side, you know! It would be nice if you could trust us," Aurora sighed, looking not only angry but deeply offended.
Minerva sat down beside her and placed a gentle hand atop hers.
"This could be nothing but exhaustion, Aurora. So please, help me. I'm doing my best to rebuild a school, keep the board happy, and keep the hungry press at bay. Everything I do is in the best interest of this school and all those who call it home."
Aurora swallowed thickly and looked up.
"I should hope so, Minerva. I never pegged you for the type to knowingly put your staff in danger," she said pointedly.
"I never would, Aurora and I hope you know me well enough to believe that."
"I do, Minerva. It's just…if we're at risk here, people have a right to know. We've all done and sacrificed enough for this school," Aurora pointed out earning her a nod from Minerva.
"I know…I know."
"Here," offered Severus, stepping forward with another vial. "Please, drink this."
"Another secret potion?" Aurora said bitterly.
"No, a powerful healing agent," answered Severus. "It will help heal any underlying cell damage and help with your magical aura. Hermione brewed it herself," he noted with a small smile and a look of pride as his eyes caught Hermione's. She blushed at the praise and looked away, scribbling a note in the chart rather than hold his gaze.
"Well then, it must be perfect," Aurora said with a begrudging smile at the young woman as she tipped back the potion and gave a gentle sigh as she felt the potion fill her slowly with a tingling warmth.
"A few days of this potion and your exhaustion should be all cleared up," Poppy reassured her with a warm smile, but Aurora still seemed unsure. "You are free to leave, but be sure to report back each morning for the next week for more healing potion. Kindly send in Pomona next," Poppy asked as she cleared away the empty vials and made more notes in her chart.
Aurora muttered a curt, "Thank you," and made for the door.
"Aurora, please," Minerva called, her voice softer now, "help me do my job and keep the rumors at bay until we have firm proof otherwise. And as soon as I am able to tell you more, you will know more," Minerva promised.
Aurora stoped with her hand on the door and looked appraisingly at Minerva before responding.
"I'll keep my suspicions to myself, for now, and do my best to quell any rumors among the staff. I'm giving you a week, Minerva, that is all. Don't keep us in the dark for longer than you have to. You owe us that much."
Minerva nodded as her astronomy professor left. She turned to Poppy with an expectant look.
"Well? What do we know?" Minerva asked, rising and leaning heavily upon her cane.
"No poison was present," Poppy noted, glancing at the chart before her. "No infections or any other obvious signs of illnesses, either. Overall her health was fine, not exceptional. Low blood-oxygenation levels and high levels of stress hormones were present, which are both typical after long periods of exhaustion."
Minerva smiled slightly at this. "Well, that helps bolster the argument for simple exhaustion."
"Not so fast, Minerva," Poppy continued. "The item that caused the greatest worry was that of her magical aura, it was substantially reduced. Intact at its core, indicating no permanent damage but far weakened than her last physical a year ago. That type of substantive dip isn't usually attributed to exhaustion. It's usually caused by a powerful trauma or illness," Poppy noted, closing the thin medical chart with a frown.
The small hope that had been clear in her eyes, disappeared at this as Minerva gave a somber nod. Pomona bustled in then and seated herself on the bed. Poppy once more began her examination.
The next three hours followed much the same pattern, with every teacher, house elf, inhabitant and all visitors to the castle undergoing a thorough exam and imbibing both special potions.
Some were as wary and suspicious as Aurora had been, while others remained optimistic that their exhaustion was a minor inconvenience and would soon be banished with the help of Hermione's restorative potion.
"Oh, feelin' fine, love. Fit as a fiddle," Hagrid chuckled heartily although the diagnostic numbers spilling from him told a different story.
"Some magical fluctuations but that's to be expected from a wizard my age," Filius noted with a smile.
"Felt a bit dizzy yesterday morning but it quickly passed," volunteered Harry, looking a bit worried by all the questions, "but I missed breakfast so that was probably the culprit."
"I have been feeling…unwell," admitted Narcissa with some reluctance. "But it's been a hard few months, I'm just not used to all the stress," she conceded, her tired eyes sweeping to Severus at this. He held her gaze and gave her a small smile, an unspoken understanding passing between the pair.
Hermione wanted to focus on her chart rather than watch the display but found she couldn't tear her eyes away, a gnawing sense of unease growing in the pit of her stomach at the intimacy the pair so effortlessly shared.
As the afternoon sun climbed higher in the clear blue sky, each successive exam produced similar findings. No poison or overt illness present, but everyone's magical reserve was compromised in varying degrees. All received the strengthening potion and were told to head to the kitchen for lunch and await their work assignments.
Finally at a half-past one, the only ones who remained to be seen were Minerva, Severus and Hermione.
Hermione went first. Having been thoroughly examined the morning before, all of her vital signs, including her magical aura, had actually improved slightly despite her feeling quite run-down.
Swishing her wand slowly along Hermione's right arm, Poppy smiled.
"The break is all healed so we can dispose of this," Poppy announced as she gently removed the sling and Hermione gratefully stretched the arm, glad to be rid of the contraption.
"Do be careful with this arm though, at least for the next several weeks. Although healed, this arm will be weak, another fall could cause a significant break. So no daredevil stunts, please," Poppy said with a tired smile.
"I'll be as careful as I can," Hermione promised as she gingerly flexed her arm and wrist, grateful to have use of her arm once more.
Severus smiled, watching her be so pleased and fully-healed once more was truly a blessing. It was a sight that brought a great deal of peace to his tired, worried heart.
Hermione hopped off the cot and swallowed the healing potion, relishing in the renewed sense of energy and mental clarity she suddenly felt.
"Alright, Severus, you're next," Poppy commanded as Hermione stood and moved aside.
He scowled slightly but didn't argue as he sat down upon the exam bed.
Hermione stepped forward to record his numbers while Poppy ran the diagnostic tests.
Flipping his medical chart open, Hermione realized it was far thicker, at least twice the thickness, of any other patient they had seen today. Dating back to his first year here as a student and covering all the years up till now, it was a physical testament to all the times he had been injured in the name of the Light. Finally locating a blank page in the very back of the file, she prepared to record his vitals.
Her eyes trained on her clipboard, Hermione wanted to be as reserved and professional as she had been with the others, but just being near him caused her heart to flutter painfully in her chest. She wished she could shut the damn thing off for all the trouble it was causing her.
"Roll up your sleeve, Severus," Poppy asked, "I want to check for any residual nerve damage along your left arm."
He frowned at this, his brow furrowing in concern. Hermione couldn't help but notice he looked markedly uncomfortable at the request.
He sighed and looked downward as he folded up the sleeve in crisp, neat turns. Hermione's eyes watched with rapt attention as his pale skin gave way to the dark ink staining his skin a gruesome black and gray.
As Poppy ran her wand along his skin and the dark mark, Severus looked up to see Hermione watching him, holding his gaze for the first time all day. Her large brown eyes seemed to hold an ocean full of emotion, her beautiful mouth dipping into a small frown. He wanted to look away and hide his own shame at baring such a horrid marking on his skin, but as he made to turn his head, Hermione shook her head slightly, indicating that he had nothing to be ashamed of. His stomach involuntarily flipped at her bold gesture of acceptance. Although his shame usually got the better of him, he found himself, in this particular moment, suddenly feeling less shameful and incapable of looking away.
"Improving slightly, Severus," Poppy announced, breaking the heavy, heated gaze the two were sharing. "Honestly, you're in best shape out of the lot of us, but I imagine its due to your lengthy coma. It allowed you to rest and heal more thoroughly."
He nodded and stood, quickly pulling his sleeve back down, noticing how Hermione, from under the safe cover of her curly tendrils, watched the mark on his arm intently, the look on her face not entirely unfriendly.
Minerva was the last to be examined and even though Poppy tried to hold the numbers close to her chest, Severus was tall enough to peer over the mediwitch and the numbers noted there were not good.
"Minerva," he said softly, "the potions haven't been working have they? You're still as weak as you were weeks ago," Severus asked as Poppy transcribed the vitals in her lover's chart.
Minerva gave a sad smile. "I'm just old, Severus. Takes longer to heal, is all," she noted with forced cheer.
Poppy gave a nod, rubbing Minerva's back with a soothing touch as she gave the headmistress her healing potion.
"This should help, dearest," Poppy said encouragingly, smiling warmly.
Minerva sighed as she drank it and handed the empty vial back.
"Feeling better?" Poppy asked brightly.
Minerva nodded firmly, smiling, but Severus could tell she was lying.
"So," Minerva uttered as she stood up, "we've all been examined. What do we know now that we didn't this morning?"
"Well, no poison was detected in anyone," Poppy noted as she put on her spectacles once more and eyed the charts laid out across an empty bed.
"That's one small blessing," Hermione sighed as she cleared away the last of the empty medicinal vials.
"And yet, everyone has weakened auras," Poppy remarked, eyeing all of the various vitals laid out before her, swimming in sea of numbers and variables.
"To varying degrees, yes," Severus remarked, his eyes scanning the same numbers. "Curiously, those not staying at the castle, for instance, Sirius, Remus and Harry, have higher energy levels than those residing here full-time," he noted, pointing to their charts.
"Well...now what?" asked Poppy, looking unsure.
"We check for curses, I suppose," said Minerva wearily, "although I think you're overreacting Severus. This seems like legitimate exhaustion to me."
"Those staying here at the castle have substantially weaker auras, Minerva, what does that tell you? Harry, Remus, Sirius…they aren't staying here and while their auras are slightly diminished, they are each substantially magically stronger than the rest of us. Something here in the castle is affecting us, whether you choose to believe it or not," he volleyed, a hint of aggravation creeping into his smooth voice.
"It could also be that they are working half-schedules while everyone here has put in full-days. You're overreacting and causing needless suspicion to take hold," she replied testily, removing her spectacles and rubbing at the bridge of her nose.
"I'm not overreacting," Severus stated adamantly. "I'm fulfilling the oath I swore to when I became headmaster, to protect each wizard and witch here to the best of my abilities. I may no longer be headmaster, but I care for each and every person here."
"Severus, please. I'm not trying to-"
"You're worried about bad press. Or pissing off the board or god knows what!" he snapped. "I'm worried about keeping us all safe. Let's just agree that we have different priorities right now," he glowered, his eyes holding hers with the rage that shone so brightly earlier in the day.
"Severus, that's not fair! You know I care about our safety just as much as you! And it's damn unfair of you to imply otherwise!" Minerva shouted.
"Minerva, I simply need answers. We all need answers! And if you don't want to be more forth coming perhaps someone else could answer my questions," he snapped.
Severus tightened his fists and held his tongue as he brushed past Minerva. Rather than retort, he crossed the cavernous room and approached the painting that hung above the fireplace.
Tapping his wand sharply against the frame he called out, "Albus! Kindly come to the infirmary, I wish to speak with you!"
He pressed his palms flat against the mantle to steady his breath while the others stood silently behind him.
A minute passed and the portrait remained empty. Severus pulled his wand again and tapped angrily, "Damnit, Albus! Where are you?!"
But still the frame was empty and after a minute Severus sighed.
"He's avoiding me. Clever bastard, knows exactly when to make himself scarce," he angrily muttered, as he stowed his wand once more and turned to face Minerva, Poppy and Hermione.
"Something is afoot here, Minerva, I can just feel it. And I won't rest until I know exactly what's causing this," he declared, crossing his arms and defiantly holding her gaze.
Minerva sighed, looking defeated. "You do that, Severus. In the meantime, I'll be busy making sure our students have somewhere to attend school come September."
Minerva hobbled out of the room, looking irate and thoroughly exhausted with Poppy following closely behind. As the door slammed shut, Severus gave a deep, weary sigh, hanging his head in frustration.
"I think you're right," came her soft voice.
Severus looked up, clearly surprised to see the look of understanding on her young face.
"I do think something is wrong with the castle. Minerva may not agree, but I do," Hermione said kindly.
Severus felt his chest lighten at her words.
"Thank you," he replied, genuinely meaning it.
Hermione gave a small nod. Suddenly realizing that she was alone with him and she had once more let her guard down, her demeanor changed instantly. Grabbing her clip board and making for the door at a brisk clip, she offered a quick, "See you at lunch, sir."
"Hermione, may I have a word?" he gently asked, catching her before she could escape.
"Everyone is waiting for their assignments, sir. I really should get going," she softly replied, looking away, one hand poised on the door.
"Let them wait, I need to speak with you," he implored, coming to stand right before her.
Trapped in the exact position she had wished to avoid, Hermione only sighed at her bad luck.
"What is it you need, sir?" she inquired, trying to keep her face impassive although her heart quickened with him standing so close.
"You seem angry at me," he noted gently.
"I'm not, sir," she lied and Severus knew, so he pressed on, needing to know the truth.
"After seeing Narcissa in my classroom yesterday, you seemed to become quite upset and after completing your potion, you left rather...abruptly," he commented.
She swallowed and drew a hand through the curls that now tumbled freely from her defunct hair-tying spell.
"I was tired and in pain. It wasn't about you, I simply pushed myself too far yesterday. I need to be more aware of my own limits, not let myself get too carried away, thinking I can do more than I am able to," she answered, her cheeks flushed and her shoulders stooped.
"Why does that feel like a lie?" he asked, his voice soft rather than accusatory.
Hermione sighed, squaring her shoulders slightly.
"Believe whatever you wish, but I don't have time for this," she noted with irritation. "So if you're quite finished grilling me, sir, I have a lot to do-" she bit out as she made for the door.
But just as she reached it, he stepped in front of her, blocking her exit.
"Are we friends?" he asked, his arm shooting out at the doorframe to stop her from leaving.
"I thought so," she answered, looking up at him with hurt clear in her eyes.
"And do you care about me?" he asked, suddenly bold, his curiosity pushing him for the answers he desperately craved.
She bowed her head, stubbornly looking away. "You're my friend, of course…I care for you," she carefully answered.
"And I care for you," he quietly admitted, "your friendship is important to me. That's why you need to know that there is absolutely nothing between Narcissa Malfoy and I….she's married and even if she weren't, I would not be interested."
She looked up at him and her shoulders relaxed slightly as her eyes searched his. But as suddenly as she softened, she immediately straightened her back and shook her head.
"Quite frankly, you own me no explanation for your behavior. That's personal and it's none of my business who you associate with, sir-"
"Damnit, stop calling me sir!" he snapped heatedly, causing her pulse to quicken as he looked down upon her, anguished and vulnerable. "I'm not your superior or your teacher, Hermione. Stop pushing me away," he pleaded.
"I'm not trying to push you away, Severus," she answered meekly.
He sighed and stepped forward before he could stop himself, desperately wanting to be closer to her, to hear his name spill from her lips and have her all to himself. His long, cool fingers wrapped around her small, warm hand and she didn't pull away.
"Then why did you leave like that? Why have you avoided me this morning?" he asked, his thumb gently tracing her fingers.
She stared at him a long moment, relishing the tender, protective touch of his hand and internally debating what do to, her heart pitted firmly against her better judgement.
Say it, say it, say it. Tell him. Tell him you love him. What do you have to lose? her heart asked.
Him...I could lose him completely, her mind sadly replied.
She sighed as she swallowed the sweet words and felt them lodge painfully in her chest, never, she realized with a pang, to be spoken aloud.
"I'm sorry I left like that. It's just… I was embarrassed when I interrupted the two of you. You seemed very…comfortable with each other and I felt a proper fool for not realizing there was something between the two of you sooner. I thought we had…." she stopped once more, almost on the verge of tears.
"You thought we had what?" he asked, looking slightly scared and maybe even hopeful.
"Nothing, it's nothing," she smiled sadly, "I was exhausted and I just needed a rest, I'm sorry I left so quickly. I'm just not feeling myself right now," she offered, pulling her hand from his, hoping the half-truth was enough to cover her heart.
He frowned as she pulled away, realizing his heart was pounding at a furious beat.
"You just seemed quite upset when you found us."
"I…yes, I was," she bashful admitted. "You're my friend, I care quite bit for you and I've never had a reason to trust that woman. I just don't want her to hurt you," she whispered, smiling sadly at him.
"She's just an old friend, nothing more, Hermione," he admitted.
She gave a nod but didn't seem convinced. Having come this far, he decided to push his luck just a tiny bit more.
"Hermione, I remembered something yesterday that I wanted to ask you about."
"You remembered something? What is it?" she asked, looking confused at the change of topics.
"From the night you saved me, in the shrieking shack," he replied slowly, trying to gauge her reaction and summon his own courage.
"Yes?" she asked, looking a bit wary.
His heart, already beating fast, was now thundering in his chest.
"Why did you-" he paused, swallowing.
"Why did I…what?" she asked cautiously.
But he paused again, because all throughout the long night and all this day he had weighed the possible reasons as to why this pure soul could ever kiss him.
He had narrowed the pool of possible reasons down to three.
Temporary insanity, induced by profound fear topped the list.
Followed by pure, unrequited love, as positively insane as it sounded.
An lastly, and most reasonably, the reason that saddened him the most, she had kissed him out of pity.
It was possible she had some form of misguided affection for him, maybe even a school girl crush, but she could only base it upon who she thought he was, some dark prince with a heart of gold she imagined him to be. She could never know and love the real him. No one could.
Every connection he had in his life had been based upon some twisted notion of affection, an artificial facsimile of the real thing.
Lily's friendship had been pity of a poor, abused boy.
Lucius' allegiance had been based upon brotherly manipulation of a social outcast.
Albus' protection had been based on paternal affection of a prodigal son.
And now Hermione…what possible motivation could she have beyond pity? He rationalized that it simply had to be the answer. And he knew he couldn't bear it, not again, not from her.
The way she had saved him, kissed him, befriended him, the look upon her face as she thumbed through his medical chart, and her look as she saw his dark mark. Pity was behind it, all of it. Useless, demeaning, goddamn, horrible pity...a full circle back to exactly what he had with Lily. All the signs were there, but he had stubbornly chosen to ignore them.
How foolish and desperate could he possibly be? Was he either so starved for connection he would accept any type of relationship, regardless of how twisted it was? Or was he simply too dense to tell the difference between what was real and what wasn't?
No, he might have grown to care for her, but he knew from personal experience that one-sided affection would only lead to heartache. No, he refused to traverse that lonely road once more.
He would fulfill his promise to her and fix this damned castle, and then he would leave. Nothing awaited him here, nothing good at least, that much was crystal clear.
"Severus, ask me, what did you want to know?" she implored, stepping closer to him, and slipping her hand into his, secretly, silently, encouraging him to say the words she hadn't been brave enough to utter.
Looking into her exquisite eyes he realized, as with his whole life, his only choice wasn't between happiness and sorrow, but rather between which kind of suffering he would have to endure.
The sting of yet another relationship based upon pity or the aching loneliness of not having her at all.
Calling upon his well-honed skill of self-preservation, he chose to suffer the pain of loneliness rather than suffer the sting of pity. It could have been love, perhaps, but in truth he was too terrified in that moment to risk his tender heart and find out.
Thoroughly aware of just how alone he was in this world, he gave a measured, composed nod, looking as if he'd merely forgotten what he had wanted to say.
"Nothing," he swallowed thickly, pulling his hand from hers, "I believe I already have my answer."
He took a step back. "I'll let you get going. I know you have a lot to do. As do I. I'll begin looking into curses and report back when I know more," he said as he backed away, eyes cast to the floor.
He looked so strange just then, all of his impervious masks and personas seemed to fall away.
The authoritative professor. The impeccable spy. The soulless death eater. The war-torn hero.
All vanished in an instant, and left but a man, hopeless and damned and lost in the sea of life. The years seems to melt from him then and he looked so young, almost innocent, but also terribly alone and broken in a way that couldn't be repaired.
She wanted to pull him in and kiss him, pour out every word trapped in her heart and heal every inch of him with her love alone. But she had missed her chance and he was closed to her now, she knew he always would be.
He swept from the room without another word. It was several minutes before Hermione realized she was still rooted to the spot, tears streaming down her face, staining her shirt, completely alone in the room, the world, even.
Narcissa could never have him, but then again...neither could I, she realized as the weight settled heavily atop her and stole her breath.
She bowed her head and all alone, she let herself sob. Her arms snaked around her waist, wrapping so tight, trying to hold in the terrifying wave of want and sorrow. But still the tears came. She squeezed tighter, hope to stop the bleeding his retreat had caused, hoping to stop this ache. But still, it came.
As she hit rock bottom, the most terrifying feeling washed over her. This longing for him, as illusive as he would always be, this feeling for him, this love, would never go away. She would carry it about with her forever, like a scar deep within. And no amount of crying or longing or wishing it away would change it. Her love for him was a burden she would just have to bear.
She let her arms fall to her side, aching and heavy. Covered in tears and sweat, her whole body suddenly felt exhausted once more, shaky and weak, as if she hadn't just ingested one of the world's most powerful healing potions.
She roughly rubbed the tears away, her breath hiccuping painfully in her chest as she reigned in her choked sobbing. Her eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks splotchy, she wearily grabbed her clipboard and headed to the kitchen to hand out work assignments, her heart heavier than she ever thought possible.