Author's Note: Seven is a magical number. Three are working to awaken Severus Snape. Only fitting. ;)

Chapter 21: Hello, Professor.

Hermione threw down her quill, scowling. She'd missed a negative somewhere, the third mistake she'd had to fix in her calculations. Draco ignored her mini-tantrum, leafing casually through another magazine.

It was surreal – Draco Malfoy reclining on a Muggle couch in a Muggle home, looking at a Muggle fashion magazine as if he were seriously contemplating the contents. And with a Muggle sketchbook and pencils, sketching out designs, of all things.

"Arm," she said with a growl and he complied, extending his Marked appendage to her. Studying it, she made a few more quick calculations; the last thing Hermione wanted was to check Professor Snape's magic – such a personal thing! - and not have possible solutions ready. If Nagini's augmented bite had affected his magic like it had tried to do to hers, then it was entirely possible that it was the only thing keeping him from waking.

Scrubbing at her face, Hermione Summoned another pot of tea.

"Watch it!" Draco scowled, casting a quick Tergeo at the magazine. "Pay attention; I have no desire to be scalded just because you're tired."

"Sorry." She was, really. Just tired – she wasn't suffering from backlash any more, but the nightmares weren't stopping. That and she was still used to waking up at every noise, or sleeping in shifts with Harry to keep watch.

The tea was warm and fragrant, and another cup sailed in from the kitchen, held out expectantly.

"Pour it yourself; I'm not your mother."

He flushed, leaning over to grab the pot's handle. "No - it's...our teapots pour themselves. Sorry."

"Oh," she said, surprised at the apology.

Deciding it was wiser to not make anything of it, she returned to her calculations, double-and-triple checking her work. She'd have to modify a healing spell she'd found in the library books; she'd never made her own spell, but she could definitely modify one to her purposes. Draco'd already checked his library at home for books on this sort of thing, and it wasn't like she could pop by Shell Cottage and ask to browse Bill's books.

At least they had a little Felix left, she thought wryly. They'd need all the help they could get.

"I like this one," he flipped the magazine around to show her a trim suit. She raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"It's very severe; and, really, I thought that padded shoulders went out of style."

Draco sniffed derisively, whisking his magazine away. "I didn't say I liked everything about it."

She smiled. "Shut up and let me finish – I've only got a few more to go."

"You've got yourself an admirer," Severus heard Draco drawl by way of greeting. "You could do worse than Granger, though – she's asleep on the sofa, but I'm off to your trial. You know we'll take care of you regardless, Severus, so don't worry."

He prodded his magic again – it was still there, whatever it was. Draco and Hermione (he'd resigned himself to this change) hadn't been very clear of what it was, exactly, but at least they thought they could fix it.

Severus ached to move again, to speak – would he still be able to talk? He remembered too well the pierce of fangs in his throat, the rasp of his own voice as he foisted his memories onto Potter. Probably a yes, but how much damage had occurred? How much had Hermione been able to stop? Would he still be able to teach Potions?

That thought stopped him even as Draco rambled a bit about his parents – he wanted to go back to Hogwarts? To teaching dunderheaded children who were entirely unappreciative of both the subject and him? Whatever was pulling on his magic must be affecting him more than he'd originally surmised. First he thought of Hermione as a friend and now he wished to return to teaching?

Bugger all.

It was quiet for a long time after Draco departed, but then Hermione clearly had slipped from dozing to dreaming, because he could hear her. At night, she obviously used a Silencing Charm on her room, because it was only when she collapsed from exhaustion outside of the normal sleeping hours that he could hear her.

The screaming didn't bother him, nor did the sobs. It stung at him that she'd been damaged by Bellatrix, but she was strong; she was incredibly strong, and he envied her her strength.

What did bother him was the the pleading to make it stop, that they'd 'found it', that it was 'a fake'. In other words, it was his fault for bringing the sword, his fault that she'd been tortured as a result. The guilt of it gnawed at him.

Severus was grateful that she was downstairs, because when she was closer he could hear the whimpering, the moaning, the begging she'd been unable to voice at the time of her actual torture. As her screams rose and fell, he still knew that in between she'd be calling out for him to protect her.

And he couldn't.

"Hold the door, Potter."

Harry automatically jammed his elbow against the heavy courtroom door, hands full of parchments.

"Nice catch."

"Can't manage a simple 'thank you', Malfoy?"

"I can, yes." But the blond just breezed past him. Harry wished he could have half of Draco's confidence; how did the other boy do it? Always so polished, his hair perfect, unlike Harry's own mess, clothes clean and pressed, unlike the comfortably-rumpled look Harry seemed to sport on a regular basis.

He watched Draco perch on one of the closer benches, seemingly relaxed, but Harry frowned, noticing that he was actually very tense.

A sudden thought occurred to him – did Draco know that Snape had two godsons? Harry'd gotten Kingsley to keep Snape's status with Harry a sworn secret amongst the Wizengamot alone; he doubted Snape wanted that publicized, but did Draco know? Was that part of why he'd been such an arse to him?

The heavy courtroom doors locked, and Kingsley swept his wand, verifying that no reporters or Animagi were present, no Dicto-Quills, no surveillance spells.

"If we may proceed – Mister Potter says to have more testimony on the behalf of Severus Snape?"

Taking a deep breath, Harry lifted the first parchment.

Her mouth felt dry, her throat raw – again.

"I need to stop snoring," Hermione muttered, pushing heavy hair out of her eyes. What time was it? How long had she been asleep? Not long, just a few hours, according to the quickly-cast Tempus. Once again, she was surprised at how responsive Professor Snape's wand was to her, and was reminded that she should see if Ollivander would be willing to make her a new one if her old still hadn't been found.

Maybe she should ask Draco when he got back from the trial if it was in the Manor.

Oh, God, the trial. Was it over yet? Had the letters from other students and parents helped? Was he free yet? She refused to believe in any other outcome right now.

She fixed herself a new pot of tea, tapping her fingers impatiently against the counter tops. Should she go read to Professor Snape for a bit, or continue with the equations? Hermione was reaching for a sandwich when she ashamedly realised she wanted to keep him safe, just a while longer, and was putting off the equations. That wouldn't do!

Blushing furiously, she Summoned quill and parchment, determined to be done with them tonight. Once she was done, she'd know which combination of spells they'd need to remove the taint from his magic...and then, then he'd wake.

She hoped.

Harry rubbed his eyes – this was taxing. He just wanted it all to be over; he wanted to go home, wherever that was going to be now, and rest. Or, really, just anywhere but the little room kept available for those in the middle of trials to grab a drink or bite to eat if they hadn't brought something edible from home.

"Here." A mug of tea thunked onto the table in front of him, and he looked up at Malfoy. By the look of the liquid, it was even heavily sugared. Either Malfoy knew how he took his tea, or he looked like he needed it.

It was probably the latter. "Thanks."

The blond dropped gracefully into the seat next to him, holding his own steaming tea, which he stirred cautiously. It looked rather full.

"What do you think our chances are?" Harry asked, figuring Snape was a safe topic. "Up here, I can't see what they're all thinking."

Malfoy snorted. "I can't tell, either. Some of them look like they'd rather eat dragon dung than admit he should be freed, and some of them look like this should have been over in our favor a week ago, and some of them are falling asleep on their parchment."

Harry groaned, head dropping onto the table.

"Drink your tea, Potter. You'll need it." He complied automatically. For Ministry-provided tea, it wasn't half-bad. Borderline passable. Definitely needed the sugar, though.

"Where are your sidekicks?" Malfoy asked casually.

"Hmm?" Harry was spacing again. "Oh – Hermione's probably looking for her parents, and Ron's at St. Mungo's with Lavender."

"And here I thought they'd be sucking each other's faces in the corridor. Shame, I could do with a bit of gossip for the common room."

Harry ignored the jab intended to rile him. "Where are your bodyguards, Malfoy? Oh wait, there's just the one now."

The blond gave him a disgruntled look that masked the fleeting pain. "Is that what I get for a little attempt at conversation to engage what little brain you have, Potter?"

"Sorry." He meant it.

"Just drink your damn tea."

Ron stretched – Merlin, he'd needed the loo. He wondered if he should scrounge around St Mungo's cafeteria for something edible, or if he should pop home. After Lavender's moment of awareness, he didn't want to go too far, but he was hungry and loved Mum's home-cooked meals. Even better, he should ask the Healer on shift if it'd be okay to bring some of Mum's soup for Lav. It'd be better than the watery liquid they tried to pass off as nutritious.

And maybe a sandwich.

And some crisps.

And a Butterbeer.

And a slice of pie.

Right, that settled it – he should go home for lunch. His stomach rumbled in agreement, and Ron smiled widely. He could even also grab the book on chess strategies Hermione'd given him a lifetime ago; he was bored enough that it would probably be interesting by now.

Not that it hadn't been before, but it wasn't about the Cannons, or girls, so he'd more or less thumbed through it, decided it was cool, and tossed it onto his shelf. He wondered if the ghoul had gotten through the wards on his things; odd time to remember that. Bad enough he still had to chase the thing back to the attic, but that could wait and he bunked with George in George's bed.

George slept in Fred's bed.

Feeling a little brash, Ron crossed the room, kissed her hand, and headed for the door. "I'll be back in a bit, Lav. Promise."

There wasn't an answer this time, but he still gave her a crooked grin, feeling more himself than he had in a while. Maybe he could get Ginny to fly a few laps with him for a little fresh air.

Hermione raised hopeful eyes to Draco as he opened the door to her house. He shook his head. "No verdict yet; we'll know tonight, though. Potter promised to send me a Patronus."

"That's nice of him." She smiled. "I finished the equations, too. If you're up to it, we can do it tonight. But not if you're tired, though."

"I won't muck it up," he said after a minute. "I just need a minute and some decent tea, not the swill they have at the Ministry."

"Okay." Hermione tugged on an errant curl, fidgeting. Draco looked like Professor Snape had – distant. Occlumency, she guessed, to put away his worries over the outcome of the trial. It was a good idea, and she did the same, the rudimentary clearing of her mind. She wasn't by any means able to do much more than that, but it was better than nothing.

Exhaling noisily, Draco rose. "Alright; let's go wake him up."

She smiled brilliantly at him, snagging her scrolls from the table. "Do you want to explain, or shall I?"

"You do it." He was feigning boredom and disinterest, but she knew he wanted to know how she intended to untangle the oily residue of Nagini from Professor Snape's magic.

Hermione waited until she'd rapped on the door and they'd shut it again, seating herself on the far side of the bed.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I'm going to have be a bit forward." Grasping his hand, she continued. "Apparently, You-Know-Who augmented Nagini, as you know, and she was also, unfortunately, a Horcrux, both of which tied her to his power. Mr. Weasley didn't have any such trouble, and neither did I in testing -"

"Idiot," Draco interjected under his breath, but she ignored him.

"In testing the antidote – there's a sort of Dark residue effect, and it didn't anchor to Mr. Weasley or to me, and the only difference is your Mark." She sounded apologetic. "We're going to untangle it from you; Draco and I will both be revealing your magic, I am so sorry for the intrusion, sir, but it's necessary. Draco will be unraveling the two while providing an anchor, and I'll be doing the rest."

Almost absently, she squeezed the cool hand she held. "Ready, Draco?"

"Of course." Together, they cast the first spell. Hermione was awed; his magic was so bright, so warm! She'd never had cause before to look at someone else's magic, and it was so magnificent, she could weep. Were they all this way? Gleaming bright in the darkness? Or was this Professor Snape himself, with the layers lifted? She desperately wanted it to be both – she wanted them all to carry something so beautiful, but she also wanted the revelation of this small intimacy to be strictly the man she'd been trying so hard to see and save.

"Got it," Draco said, sounding distant.

"Alright." Hermione shifted her attention to the Dark taint. It was foul, muddying the man's magic as they delved further. Draco was casting continually, driving the noxious smudge to Hermione. This was the part she hadn't wanted to explain to either of them, and opened herself to it. Draco wouldn't see her magic, but she knew that if she could expel it from herself, then she could bloody well take it from Professor Snape.

"I think it's working," he said after a long while. Hermione was trembling, one hand holding onto the professor, the other the borrowed wand. She knew it was working, she felt so tired, so sick; but his magic was almost free, almost clear. She had to hold on.

"Almost done," she said faintly. "Almost done, Draco, we've got it..."

God, her voice sounded weak. Oh, well. Too late to stop now. She took a shuddering breath and took in the last of the oily residue, willing it to come to her and then to be extinguished with her own inner light.

I don't have a Mark for you to latch onto – die! she thought bitterly.

"Done! It's gone!" Draco sounded elated, cancelling his spell. Hermione lifted her lips in a smile...and collapsed.

Everything was warm, here. Her hand felt warm, sleep-warm, the way Ron's had gotten at Grimmauld, and she reflexively held on tighter. That comforting scent of herbs and parchment and grass lingered, and the silly pillow mints her mum liked to leave in the bedstand drawer for guests. Hermione snuggled closer to the warmth, feeling almost buoyant. She felt warm and safe. It was a lovely change from the nightmares.

Something hard was poking her side and she frowned. Why was she sleeping on her wand? No – not her wand, Professor Snape's wand, which meant she was probably still holding his hand. Hadn't it been cool before? Perhaps he'd taken on her body heat.

Forcing her eyes open, feeling as if she'd been Petrified all over again, she sighed. Right, then. Where was Draco? Shouldn't he be here, watching and waiting?

China clinking – he'd gone to make tea.

Wonderful. Wait – could he make tea? He was British Wizard, what was she thinking? Of course he could make tea. Viktor had made terrible tea, as she recalled... and even Ron and Harry could boil water and steep a bag without ruining it overmuch... Was Professor Snape still asleep? And if he was asleep, was he asleep-asleep now, or had they failed?

Hermione turned her head with a little effort, hoping to check the monitoring spell from this angle, and was pleasantly shocked to find obsidian eyes regarding her.

"Miss Granger," he rasped quietly. "Hermione."

She smiled, eyes tearing. "Hello, Professor. Welcome back."

"Thank you," he managed. Hermione squeezed his hand, and he returned it. Merlin, that was wonderful. Movement under his own power. Sitting up would have to wait, however; he doubted he could do so without assistance. "I want to sit up."

"Oh! Of course!" Almost instantly the girl was off the bed, around it, and at his side. Together, they maneuvered him up, pillows under his back. He sighed in relief. "Sorry, sir – I'll be right back, I'm sure Draco would want to be here..."

She darted away and he looked around. The room was neat, tidy. Clearly impersonal and meant for guests. There was a small shoe stand in one corner, and his boots rested there, cleansed of dust and debris. His robes were missing, but his frock coat was still on, open at the collar to allow access to his injury. They were, however, also cleaned. No dust or dirt from the shack, no blood, not even a splinter of glass from the window he'd jumped from. Hermione had taken marvelous care of him.

He cleared his throat, testing his voice. Good – just hoarse from disuse. Gingerly, he stretched his neck. No stiffness, only a slight pain. They'd done very well indeed; even Poppy would be impressed by their work. He heard them on the stairs, feet pounding.

"Severus?" Draco was first into the room, hope on his face.

"I haven't heard you run up a flight of stairs since you were five," Severus said blandly. Draco grinned widely.

"Glad to see your memory wasn't affected." The boy looked relieved, and better rested than he had all year. "Welcome back. Remember anything?"

"Everything."

Hermione flushed, hiding behind his godson, and he scowled. "That reminds me, Granger – what possessed you to be a bloody idiot? That's not how you sodding test venom, I've taught you better than that."

She frowned, clearly affronted. Good, he hadn't lost his bite, either, despite waking up next to her and spending weeks helpless in her guest bed. "Recreation of conditions, sir."

"What?" Draco said. She tossed her head, plait swinging.

"When you were attacked, sir, you knew you were going to be hurt, and the poison entered your bloodstream directly. The person administering to you was afraid of failing, and it was for that reason I tried to recreate the same sensations." She looked uncertain. "Granted, I should have drank the antidote first, as you had, but, well...that part was stupid. I just..I thought I had the answer."

"Gryffindors," Severus muttered. "I'd award you points, if I could. Thank you."

She had the audacity to smile as the kettle began to shriek. "I do tend to charge in, don't I? I'm glad in this case, though. I'll get the tea, give the two of you a moment."

Severus waited for her footsteps to recede before looking at Draco. "Your parents?"

"Safe – they don't know where I've been going, but I've promised them I'm safe and out of trouble." The blond draped himself elegantly in Hermione's chair. "They've been concerned about you. Father's been attending your trials, and, no, no word yet from Potter. It may be that Hermione has Patronuses blocked here, but I doubt it. The bastards are probably still deliberating."

Draco paused, hesitating. "How much do you remember, really? I know she's been talking to you every day."

"Most likely all of it. She tended to repeat herself, make sure it reached me." Draco relaxed. "How have you found the Muggle world?"

"It's...interesting," Draco said. "There's so much I wish we'd been taught. It's different, but not entirely so. In a way, it's unsettling."

"Finding your perspective on things is terribly skewed and facing that usually is," Severus remarked drily. "How is Potter?"

"Running himself ragged trying to clear you. Keeps looking at me funny."

"Ah."

They sat in silence, neither elaborating, listening to the clatter of porcelain, followed by Hermione's tread on the stairs.

"Tea," she announced needlessly, a gesture he recognised as her giving them a moment to stop being emotional if they were given to such fits of fancy. "And sandwiches."

"Grand," Draco muttered. "More sandwiches. Ow!"

Hermione smacked him on the head with her free hand, casting about for a second chair. Finding none, she perched on the foot of the bed. Brave, he observed. But then, ever since her little revelation and showing up at his home uninvited, she'd become rather fearless where he was concerned.

Taking the offered cup, Severus was pleased to find his hands steady, and once they'd been settled with drinks and food – real food! - they began to catch him up in detail on everything he'd missed.

No one mentioned the trial, as if afraid they'd jinx it.

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