A/N: Right, oh you my beloved readers! Before I give you one of the darkest chapters yet, I´d like to address a few questions that came up in the reviews several times and might be interesting for all of you (if they aren´t, just skip this part):
How long will this story be? Apart from „very long" I really do not know. We have reached about the middle, I believe. Not that I´m sure. This story seems to possess a will of ist own...
Will their be a romance? Yes, definitely. And it is coming closer. You´ll probably know what I mean when you read through this chapter.
Will the others find out? Yes, and soon. Harry, Ron and Remus Lupin are in for a big surprise not far ahead. And there will be an eye opener or two for the rest of the Order along the way, too.
Isn´t Hermione getting too soft? I don´t think so. But you might have noticed that Severus is going quite soft, too. That´s the way I want their relationship to develop – soft at the inside, hard as diamond at the outside. Soon they will unite and become the terror of the civilised world... ahem... yes.
Feel free to comment on every point of the above. You have no idea how much I cherish your input!
And now on to the story. Readers be warned: There´s violence ahead. And blood. And darkness. And pain. If ye cannot handle it, turn back to safer waters!
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Bittersweet Mistletoe IIWhen he returned from the staff meeting, grumbling about the waste of his time, she was gone. Slowly, he walked over to her armchair, where she used to place her notes for him.
A yellowish parchment was lying on the seat. It held nothing but one word in her precise handwriting.
„Lucius."
He bit out an oath. They had counted on the fact that even Death Eaters wanted their Christmas undisturbed. They had not considered the effects a harmonious Christmas with the family would have on Lucius, however.
Severus didn´t want to imagine what mood Lucius had been in to meet with Hermione. His arrogant, cool headed wife Narcissa, hating and ignoring him since he had lost them their place in society by being convicted as Death Eater. His son, though trying, lacking the peculiar enthusiasm a Death Eater needed as badly as he needed a good cloak-maker.
Fear coursed through him, panic at the sudden thought of losing her. What if Lucius cracked? What if…
Get a grip on yourself!
Gritting his teeth, he slowed down his breath and forced the panic out of his system. He refused to even think about the consequences of this attack. It wouldn´t do to forget his own central lesson, the lecture he had hammered into Hermione again and again over the course of the last weeks.
Do not care about other people. Not enough to let them disturb your work. Do your job and think about nothing else. If there is nothing you can do, stop worrying. Consider the things you can do instead.
He had never found it hard to believe in this mantra, to stick to it. Keeping everybody at bay, driving them away with his biting sarcasm and arrogance hadn´t been difficult.
He hadn´t understood why Hermione should refuse this lesson. Until now. It needed nothing more than the thought of her death to make him…
Pathetic. Cease whining and get to work.
And thus he got to work, not able to suppress the memory of a very similar afternoon, nearly two months ago, when he had worried about Hermione and tried not to.
He would keep away from poetry, this time.
He set the wards of his chambers to notify him the moment she entered his office, and went up the two floors to his lab, where he started chopping, grounding and brewing as if the world depended on it.
Hours went by. He noticed the light outside waning and ignited the lamps, refusing to make a break or waver in his concentration, as if his work could somehow keep her from being harmed.
The entrance alarm raised him. He looked up and saw that darkness had fallen while he worked. Descending the winding staircase, he could see her shimmering figure making the transition through the tapestry.
She looked horrible, clothes dishevelled and hair in turmoil. It were her eyes that frightened him, though. Huge and dark like tunnels into the deep, he had only seen such an expression of mindless fear in them only once, during her first hallucination. They burned against the contrast of a skin so white that it was almost translucent.
"Damn it", he whispered. Then he crossed the distance between them and tried to lead her over to the sofa. She backed away from his touch.
"I couldn´t climb the stairs to Gryffindor tower", she explained, her voice not more than a hysterical stammering, "I tried but it hurt to much. So I came here. I only need a shower and my bed and the pain will stop. I´m sorry if I disturbed you, I won´t…"
"You were right to come here", he interrupted her, wondering why she felt the need to excuse herself that way, "What happened?"
"Nothing", she whispered, not meeting his eyes.
Gently, he touched her chin and, forcing her face upwards, met her eyes. A whimper escaped her throat, and in her gaze he saw the chaotic dance of madness.
She stumbled away, "Nothing. Nothing at all…", her voice dying away like the rustling of a dry leaf.
"Don´t lie to me, Hermione", he admonished her softly, "Are you injured? Are you bleeding somewhere?"
She nodded, her head bowed. His heart ached with the sight of her.
"Has Lucius hurt you?"
Another nod, so tiny it nearly escaped his notice.
He sighed, "I will carry you upstairs and we will take a look at you", he said, placing one arm around her shoulder and reaching for her legs.
"No!"
Her scream pierced his ears as she tried to evade his touch frantically, stumbled and fell to her knees.
"Don´t touch me! Don´t hurt me! Please, I´ll be good!"
Terror gripped him. She had left him again, was shut up in her own private hell with no entrance. What had the bloody bastard Lucius done to her for goodness sake?
He fell on his knees beside her, trying to meet her eyes, to calm her, but she wouldn´t look at him, her movements becoming more and more panicked. She would work herself into a fit that way, and all the time she was paling, her gestures slurring down to those of a drunkard. She was losing blood and they didn´t have time for a panic attack.
"Hermione Granger", he hissed, fury with what they had done to her turning his voice icy cold, "You will look at me this instance. Raise your head, god damn you! Look at me!"
Slowly, she lowered the hands she had clasped before her face. Slowly, her head rose from her lap where she had hidden herself from him.
"I am not Lucius Malfoy, Hermione!", her frightened, small face took his bite away, but he articulated his words carefully and precise. She needed to understand this.
"Look at me! Who am I?"
Her eyes searched his body for recognition. She raised a trembling hand towards his face, but before she could touch him it twitched away as if she had burned herself.
"S…Severus?"
"Right. I´m Severus Snape," He said, searching for her eyes and sending calmness through their connection. "I won´t hurt you, Hermione. I will tend to your wounds. You can let me touch you."
"No…no", she protested weakly, "You shouldn´t touch me. I´m dirty! Gods, I am so dirty I will never be clean again. You don´t know what he did to me, what I did…"
A shudder went through and her eyes closed as she fought against the memories.
"Stop it this instance, Hermione!" he ordered sternly, "You did your job. I would have done the same. And now I´m going to carry you upstairs while you tell me exactly where you are hurt."
"I can´t…"
"Hermione, do you trust me?"
He knew this question was risky. If she didn´t trust him completely yet, it would cause her to retreat further. But he was really worried now. He could see the front of her skirt darkening with blood and her erratic behaviour spoke of a bad shock she had received.
"Do you trust me?"
"Yes…yes."
Relief washed over him, "Then you will let me care for you, Hermione. I will take you up now. I won´t harm you."
Her whole body went rigid when he touched her, but she made no move to stop him, and he gathered her up in his arms.
"Tell me what happened, Hermione. I´m sorry, dear, I know this is hard, but I have to know what he did to you."
He didn´t hold with coddling normally, and the idea of calling anybody his "dear" would have outraged him a month ago. But he couldn't forget the braveness with which she had defied him an eternity ago in Albus' office, couldn't forget her pain when he had betrayed her. The shining gold of her eyes when she had lifted her knives to the firelight. The void that filled those eyes now.
He carried her up the winding staircase, feeling her mouth work against the white linen of his shirt, but only fragments reached his ears.
"…so ashamed…"
"No reason to be ashamed in front of me. I did much worse things. And I won´t tell anybody else. Please."
"He directed me to a small cottage", she started obediently, and he noticed how hard she worked to gain control over the emotions that assaulted her, "He raped me once. Twice. And then he…"
She was crying now, sobbing soundlessly into his black robes while she tried to keep the pain from her voice, but he could feel it to his very bones.
"And then he took a knife and he… he…"
He knew what Lucius liked to do with knives. He had seen it. Christmas must have set him on edge and so he took it out on her. His grip around her small frame tightened as red hot fury rose in him.
"He won´t hurt you here, Hermione", he whispered in her ears, "Nobody will hurt you now. I won´t allow it. I promise. Do you believe me?"
"He said he marked me", she whimpered against his shoulder, "He said I belong to him now. I´m his personal bitch. He said he´ll come and find me if I´m bad."
"He´s lying, Hermione. He´s lying."
Gods, how he wished the bastard were here now. He would gut him without a moment´s hesitation. He would kill him for what he had done to his…
"If he comes here, Hermione, I´ll kill him. I swear I´ll kill him. Do you believe me?"
She felt heavy in his arms, like dead weight, and fear drove the hot rage away. "Talk to me, Hermione! Do not fall asleep. Do you believe me?"
An answer, barely audible. A clumsy stirring of the body in his arm, "Yes…"
"That´s good. Keep talking, dear. How long since he did that to you? How did you get back?"
He had reached the door to her room now. Blasting it open with a muttered spell, he traversed the room and laid her down on her bet, carefully, gently. He hastened to the cupboard where she kept potions and bandages and threw it open.
"How long, Hermione? Talk to me!"
Cloth rustled as she moved on the bed. Her face was whiter than the linen now.
"Twenty minutes… half an hour… I fell unconscious… When I woke up again he was gone…"
He chose a blood replenishing potion. Something against the pain. But he didn´t dare give her a sleeping potion or something that would take the pain away completely. She had to feel what was going on with her body, to alert him if necessary.
He felt darkness flood his soul. Violent, furious thoughts… but he pushed them back. Later. She needed him now. He wouldn´t let her down and chase his personal demons instead. He would save her.
"He´s gone now, Hermione. He´s gone. Drink this. It will help you."
She was too weak now to lift her head, but he helped her and she drank the potions obediently.
"But he´s still here", she protested weakly, "I can still feel his hands hurting me, his fingers burning on my skin", suddenly, she threw back her head, yelling in pain, "His hands are all over me! Gods, it burns!"
He was losing her. The potion wasn´t working fast enough, and if she slipped away now, there was no returning for her. She needed to hold on, just for a few more minutes until he had healed her.
"Hermione", no reaction, "HERMIONE! Damn you, girl, answer!"
A tremble went through her body. He used his wand to cut away her cloak and school uniform, exposing underwear that was drenched in blood.
"Hermione!"
He ran the diagnosis spell over her abdomen, knowing what to expect. But the confirmation made him sick nonetheless.
"Miss Granger! The ingredients of burning salve! Stop dawdling and answer me this instance!"
His sharp teacher voice snapped her out of her daze. Always one to oblige teachers, Hermione slurred out the ingredients that she could have recited in her dreams.
"A basis of aloe and bees wax", she groaned.
"That´s right. Quicker, Miss Granger, I do not have all night", he snarled while he performed the healing spells, praying desperately that he wasn´t too late. The internal bleeding had swollen her belly and the bed linen was drenched with the crimson wetness.
"Crushed leaves of frostflower… seaweed extract… eucalyptus…"
It took him five minutes to heal the bloodbath of torn flesh and veins that Lucius' knife had caused, all the time listening to Hermione´s weak voice reciting the receipt for salve more precisely than any of her peers could have done in his best state of health. He wanted to cry, to howl with pain and frustration, but he kept his voice clipped and under control. His hands worked with the steady efficiency of a potions master while desperation darkened his mind.
Then, after about a quarter of an hour, his spells gave him the confirmation he had hoped for. She would live. The potions were taking effect and her face regained colour. Some sense of reality slowly returned to her eyes.
Severus remembered to breathe. His nostrils filled with the repulsive stink of blood, sweat and pain, and he went over to the window and opened it. The cold air helped to slowly clear the last shreds of panic from his head and a flick of his wand cleaned her and the bed from the traces of her close escape.
Slowly, feeling suddenly like an old, tired man, he walked over to the mantelpiece and lightened a fire. He then moved an armchair to the side of her bed and allowed himself to sink down into it. He felt wobbly with relief.
She would live.
Weakness overcame him, and he cradled his tired head in his hands. They had been lucky, but the danger wasn´t completely over yet. Searching for the deep sources of strength that had kept him going for so many years as spy, he straightened again and examined her face critically.
"Hermione."
Her eyes had fallen shut while he had not addressed her. Now they opened again, slowly, and he could see her struggle, how heavy her lids were, how seductive the sleep. She fought the dangerous deeps though, brave and stubborn as she was.
"Can you hear me, Hermione? Do you know where you are?"
She gasped, but he could see her fighting the shock that had taken hold on her system, using the pain, channelling it to regain some control over her body. Her eyes cleared, and a spark of recognition entered them.
"Severus." She whispered, as she had done that eternity of twenty minutes ago.
He smiled warmly at her. It was something that came easily to him by now, although he had never smiled much in his life.
"How do you feel?" He asked slowly.
"I… I feel so cold… and dirty."
"You lost a lot of blood. The coldness should recede in a few minutes. Just relax and breathe deeply."
But the cold didn´t seem to be her most pressing worry.
"…shower…" She croaked.
And, despite her utter weakness, she started to force herself into an upright position. Only the small moan that escaped her clenched teeth made the astonished Snape snap into action.
"You cannot move." He told her, softly pressing her down into the pillows again. "I healed your wounds, but your flesh is still tender. Every movement could hurt you again."
His words seemed to remind her of what had happened, for she tensed and tried to curl into a protective ball.
"Careful, Hermione," He had to stop her again. "Don´t move."
Still, her hands reached out, trembling with weakness, and started to rub her skin, up and down, up and down, in a pitiable effort to clean herself of the memories. He had applied cleaning spells while helaing her, but clearly that was not enough. She needed to rid herself of his touch, of the filth he had brought on her.
He remembered those nights when he had rubbed himself raw under the shower, trying to make the hands leave, the pain, the faces that begged for mercy…
"…shower…"
He didn´t know whether it was a good idea. She didn´t need even more hands on her now, but it was the only way to help her getting clean he could think of.
Conjuring a basin of warm water and a sponge, he kneeled down beside her bed.
"Relax, Hermione," He told her. "I will help you make his hands go away."
She hissed when the sponge touched her, her panicked eyes darting towards his face.
He let all shields around his mind fall in an instant, making sure that all his intentions and especially his wish to help her lay openly before her. He sent soothing thoughts of cleanness, and warmth, and peace through their connection, all the while not moving the sponge an inch.
Finally, she relaxed into his touch, and again he marvelled at the trust she had bestowed on him.
His movements were slow as he washed her, and he took care to leave out all the parts that might frighten her, might remind her of his hands. When he levitated her into the air to wash her back, a tremble went through her.
"…how bad…"
"Very bad," He answered, knowing her well enough not to lie. "He nearly killed you. If you had taken only a few minutes longer, it would have been too late."
She shuddered and closed her eyes, hiding from the world around her. He could see her withdraw, and barely heard her tired whisper.
"…pity…"
"Don't say that, Hermione. I'm glad you came back in time."
When he had finished washing her, she started to shiver, and he quickly dried her body with a spell. A flick of his wand clad her in clean pyjamas. He hesitated for a moment, but then decided to go through with his "cleaning Hermione" programme. Summoning a hair brush from the bathroom, he propped her head carefully on the pillows and started to comb her locks.
He had never brushed a woman's hair before. It was soothing to run the brush through those heavy silken locks that hadn´t been bushy for quite some time. He saw that Hermione had closed her eyes, and slowly, the lines of pain in her face faded.
"My mother did that to me when I was small," she whispered, her voice fading away.
After a moment of quiet consideration, he decided on a simple braid. It looked a bit twisted, but quite acceptable for his first attempt. Carefully, he readjusted her pillows and draped the blankets over here. He thought that she had fallen asleep, but when he rose from his chair, her eyelids fluttered open again.
"Thank you, Severus."
"You´re welcome, Hermione. Try to sleep now. I won´t leave you alone."
She sighed, and he waited until her eyes had closed again and her lips opened slightly in sleep, before he walked over to her desk. There was one thing he had to do before giving in to exhaustion.
Draco must have known where his father went. He had to be frantic by now. Severus summoned parchment and a quill, and quickly scrabbled a note in the hand of an adolescent, not very tidy student.
"Dear Draco
The Lioness you sent to me is great! She suffered from the journey, but now that I groomed her a bit, she will be all right. I´ll keep her safe.
Have a nice Christmas! We´ll see each other in Hogwarts,
Sincerely, your
Elrond."
His owl took care of the letter, and he closed the window behind her when he heard a rustle of bed clothes. He turned around and found her still sleeping. But all peace had deserted her. Hands clawing into the bed clothes, jaw clenched tightly and back arched in convulsion, Hermione was the picture of silent agony.
His old friends, the nightmares, had arrived again. And from the look of it, they were here to stay.
Without conscious thought, his feet took him to her side, and he took her cold, limp hand into his, remembering how his presence had calmed her once.
Be it that the memories were too strong, or that she was too far gone to be reached by the touch of his hand, the restless movement didn´t cease.
He frowned. The convulsions needed to stop or they would rip open the barely healed wounds again. But he didn´t want to wake her. She needed the sleep.
And so, the silent midnight found Hogwarts' Potions Master removing his shoes and outer robe by the bed of a student. Carefully, he lifted her from the pillows and climbed in behind her.
He was so blatantly out of role as he cradled her against his chest that even Albus would have choked on his sherbert lemons.
But her movements ceased. The nightmares receded and without waking, she leaned into the touch and consolation of the warm body that supported her.
A small smile, tired and weary even in her sleep, turned her lips upwards, and he smiled back, a strange warmth blooming in his chest while he watched Hermione Granger sleep.
He had expected to feel uneasy with this close proximity, to loathe the contact. He wasn´t one for touching, and everyone who had invaded his personal space in the past had regretted it bitterly.
But this was different. This was Hermione.
And as his gaze lingered on her once again peaceful face, a realization slammed into him so hard that only the discipline of a spy could stop a physical reaction.
Somehow, during these weeks of talking, researching and fighting, she had become more to him than just an important piece in the game, even more than a partner or friend.
She had become the centre of his life.
He didn´t know how this had happened, how a bushy haired know-it-all twenty years his junior had crept into his mind and heart to stay there.
All he knew was that his vow to protect her, once made to secure an advantage for the Order, had given him a new course in life. And that he would protect the small miracle that was sleeping in his arms right now no matter what threatened her. With his life, if necessary.
Without any conscious thoughts, his long, slender fingers started stroking her hair, letting the heavy locks runs through his hands. And thus, with Hermione leaned against his chest, his hands cradling her, Severus Snape fell asleep.
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A/N II: There! I managed it! Fluff and angst in the same chapter (sighs tiredly).
Now go stroke the authors ego and review, cause I wasn´t sure about this at all. Did you like it? Did I go too fast? Make me happy and review, and I´ll sent Snape around to brush your hair (after he´s finished with mine)!