AN: A sincere thanks to mw87, my lovely beta.


"Poppy!" The Potions master's voice rang clear through the infirmary. To his dismay, it wasn't empty; two young Hufflepuffs looked at him with growing alarm from the beds they sat on.

Poppy gave Severus a stern glance, and was about to remind him that this was a place of quiet when she spotted Hermione in his arms.

"Bring her here," she told him, pointing at the first bed in the window row, which had turned into Hermione's favourite. "Is it life-threatening?" she asked, her attention back on the two young boys.

"Well…" Severus began, but Hermione overrode him with a faintly amused, "No."

Poppy trusted the girl's words, pouring some potion down the young students' throats and giving them a last check-up before she allowed them to leave. She then pulled the curtains around Hermione's bed, and set to work. "What happened?" she asked Snape, who was standing uselessly to the side.

"A little altercation in the lion's den," he replied shortly, earning himself an annoyed huff from the nurse. "Make me talk about it, and I'll likely need to smash your infirmary," he growled at her inquisitive expression.

"That bad, eh?" she asked, but refrained from further inquiry, concentrating on scanning her patient. "One cracked rib, a broken nose, a bruised eye, and small bruises on your upper body. Looks as if you've been in a fist fight."

"Something like it," Hermione said wryly.

"Except for the fact that you didn't fight back," Snape threw in.

"I was painfully reminded of my lovely time in France. All I could do was try not to wet my pants in fear," Hermione shot back, her breathing agitated.

"I wasn't blaming you," Snape said warily, pinching the bridge of his nose as a headache began to form. He hated hearing of her week in captivity; it pained him just as much as any recent injury. "Blasted compassion," he mumbled half-heartedly to himself, glad that the ladies didn't ask him to repeat himself.

Poppy excused herself to get some potions and ointments. She returned to hear Hermione say, "Why don't you go to bed? You look tired."

"No, I will wait here for Minerva. She promised to tell me what she had decided to do with Weasley. I hope it involves expulsion," Severus said savagely.

"He needs every day of education he is offered," Hermione countered, amused but touched by Snape's wish for revenge.

"The prat had six years to reach a modicum of maturity, and so far I cannot see any emotional growth. He is just as immature and thick-headed as his eleven-year-old self. The only thing that has changed is his hormone-driven wish to mate with everything that has two supple…"

He broke off when he became aware of who he was talking to. Poppy was smirking at his sudden unease, and Hermione looked queasy. Was she uncomfortable with hearing him talk about sexual things? She probably just saw an asexual teacher in him, just like everyone else.

Hermione must have noticed his look, though, and interpreted it with far more ease than should be possible. "Don't worry, I'm old enough to withstand sex-talk from teachers. My hopes of pretending that you were all nuns and priests were dashed when I saw Hagrid smooch Madame Maxime."

She gulped heavily, obviously not quite as at ease when talking about the subject as she pretended to be.

"The thought of Ron's libido is simply frightening," she added, fiddling with her jumper.

She looked at Poppy when she was offered a few potions and drank obediently, shuddering at the ghastly taste. Her pain lessened, and she could breathe easier as her rib fixed itself. The matron was just about to set her broken nose straight when the door to the infirmary opened.

"Severus, are you here?" Minerva's voice called.

"Yes, now tell me that Weasley has been thrown out on his freckled arse, or that he has detention for the next several months."

Instead of answering, Minerva stepped round the half-closed curtain, Ronald Weasley at her side. He had obviously been hexed, judging by his horribly purple hair and the shimmering scales that graced his face.

"Almost an improvement," Severus muttered, and heard a soft snort from Hermione.

"What in Merlin's name happened? First Her… Miss Granger, and now Mr. Weasley." Poppy was miffed that no one ever told her what was going on.

"Later, Poppy," Minerva calmed the other woman. "I believe Mr. Weasley has something to say."

The young man in question shuffled on his feet, gulping loudly as he tried to form some words.

"I… I had no right to take points from you without hearing what you had to say," he began, while he looked at his Head of House as if looking for guidance, or a sign that he had said enough.

But Minerva looked at him sternly, despite being shorter than the young man who had shot up during the last few months. She was still an intimidating woman.

"They told me to apologise for calling you a slut," he said clumsily, and his tone made it clear that he was finished. It was obvious that it hadn't been his idea to make amends.

"That's all you can do? That was pathetic." Snape stepped closer to the boy, who looked more than uncomfortable under the combined malevolent glares of the three adults.

"You called her a what?" Poppy said incredulous. "You have no right; you should have seen her injuries after…"

"Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione shouted, alarmed, hoping to stop the nurse from blurting out intimate details.

While a red-faced Poppy tried to control herself, Snape wrenched the curtains close around Hermione's bed, effectively shutting Minerva and Weasley out.

"I'm at my wit's end, Mr. Weasley," the three people around Hermione's bed heard the stern Transfiguration teacher. "Sit over there and wait for the nurse," she said tiredly, before stepping past the privacy screen.

"What is wrong with that young man? Even Percy turned out better than him. I can't explain his atrocious behaviour," she said, looking apologetically at Hermione.

Hermione just smiled weakly. "It's not your fault," she told her teacher. "Maybe it's just his out-of-control hormones…" she ventured doubtfully.

"How can you still defend him?" Severus asked what the others were thinking.

Hermione shrugged again. "I'm not defending him. I just already have enough hatred in me for the men that murdered my parents; I'm simply trying not to let others inspire the same feeling, otherwise it will eat me up."

The teachers looked at her with wonder at her maturity, or in Snape's case, disbelief, making her uncomfortable with their intense regard.

"Erm, I'd appreciate it if Poppy, erm, Madam Pomfrey, could heal my nose now," she said, hoping to avert their attention.

Minerva excused herself and went to wait outside with the other Gryffindor, while Poppy set about fixing Hermione's broken nose. Severus flinched in tandem with Hermione when it set itself straight with a disgusting crunching sound.

He had heard the same noise countless times during his life, having broken his own nose more often than he could count. Somehow, it was always the first thing to get hurt.

"You can call me Poppy," the nurse offered, while checking the newly healed nose.

Hermione grinned gratefully while Severus looked surprised. The nurse was known for her sternness, just as he was, and getting close to a student was unheard of. He had noticed Poppy's growing regard for the young woman, but allowing her to use her given name was unexpected.

"I must have been your most valued patient during my school days, and all you ever offered me was a whitening paste for my teeth," he grumbled.

Poppy rolled her eyes. "Most frequent patient, yes," she corrected with a teasing glint in her eyes, "but valued…?" She left the rest of the sentence unsaid and patted a scowling Snape on the shoulder, her soft laugh making it clear that she was joking.

"But you've been allowed to call me Poppy since you came back to teach when you were only twenty-one," she reminded him. "Hermione earned that privilege just a bit earlier than you."

"I made up for that unfairness by calling you other names," Severus informed his colleague with a mischievous glint in his eyes that made Hermione chuckle in amusement. He looked so boyish when he was teasing.

Hermione was bemused by how freely the teachers spoke around her, but she felt pleased, privileged, and cared for under their easy adult camaraderie.

Poppy was about to apply some ointment to her swollen eye when Minerva called.

"I believe Mr. Weasley might need some help, his scales are changing colour and are beginning to itch," McGonagall called, no real urgency apparent in her voice.

Poppy pinched her lips when Ron moaned pitifully, and handed the jar over to Snape.

"Might as well be useful," she said quietly to the man, not wanting Weasley to hear more than necessary.

Severus and Hermione looked at each other for a moment, until she stretched her hand out to take the cream.

"It's okay, I can do it myself," she said to him, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

His hand moved towards her slowly. He was not used to doing such intimate things for others, but then, he still felt guilty for not coming to her aid when Lavender Brown attacked her like a banshee. He had been about to hex Ronald Weasley, which had caused him to be too far away from her, leaving her unprotected.

He pushed her hand away while moving his chair closer to her bed, hoping that no one would come in unexpectedly.

Hermione opened her mouth to voice some half-hearted protest, but something in his facial expression stopped her. He didn't look annoyed or forced to do it, but simply concentrated on his upcoming task.

She got comfortable, as if waiting for a massage, and trustingly closed her eyes. She was well prepared, or so she thought, but when cream-covered fingers met her cheek, her eyes flew open as she flinched.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself once more.

Severus stayed silent, absorbing her trust, or her attempt to force her trust to override any fear. The silly girl was apologising to him again. How bizarre!

"One, two, three," he said slowly before touching her cheek, glad to see that this time, only her eyelids twitched slightly.

The ointment was cool, but quickly warmed as he spread it on her swollen skin. His entire focus was on massaging the healing balm into the affected area, while also watching her face for any change, or signs of discomfort.

She cringed slightly when he dabbed the cream too closely to her eye, but that only seemed to be due to pain, not fear.

Severus had never in his entire life touched anyone in such a fashion. Caring for his own injuries had become a habit over the years, but tending to someone else was new for him. However, he found a slow and soft rhythm instinctively, and was quite proud of himself. It felt good to care for someone. No, it felt good to care for her. He'd die a thousand deaths if he had to nurse Potter back to health. He couldn't even think of a single Slytherin whose skin he would be willing to rub ointment into.

Her skin was soft and smooth under his fingertips, and he dipped his fingers into the cream jar once more to continue, even though her skin was adequately covered by the first layer.

She opened her eyes when she felt his tender fingers return to her face. She knew that a second application wasn't necessary, but she kept quiet, looking into his dark eyes as he stared back at her.

"My nose," she said, and went cross-eyed when his long index finger danced over the sensitive bridge of her nose. He followed the dip between her eyebrows back to the tip of her nose, making her want to purr at the sensation. It had been too long since her body had felt something as welcome as this. It was sweet, and felt even more personal than a careful hug. She was close to tears of gratitude, and was glad when he spoke.

"Don't want to end up with a nose like me, huh?" he asked dryly.

"It'll take a few curses to end up with something like yours, I believe," she retorted in the same tone, once more able to force her tears back. "Or interesting genes," she added innocently.

"Horrid girl," he hissed, his eyes crinkling with something she hoped was amusement.

She shrieked when he put his still gooey finger in her ear, and wiped it there with relish.

"Hmm, must have slipped," he said nonchalantly, screwing the lid back on the jar as he ignored her peeved huffing and grumbling.

"Everything okay, Miss Granger?" they heard Minerva ask.

"Yes," Hermione told her frostily, "but my caregiver turned out to be more inadequate than I imagined."

Poppy couldn't contain a cackle at that statement, but sobered quickly.

"You can go, Mr. Weasley," they heard Poppy say, followed by Ron's shuffling walk as he got up to leave.

"Hermione, is Snape still with you?"

"Professor Snape is still here, yes," the man answered with a disdainful tone, hearing Ron's annoyed grumble from behind the curtain.

"Why is he still here?" Ron asked Hermione, preferring to ignore the hated teacher. He felt safe enough as long as he didn't have to see the ugly visage. "It's not his job to hover over you, is it?"

Hermione made to answer, but Snape was faster again. "It is my job to protect my students, even know-it-all Gryffindors. And I can't see you following your simple job description either," he snarled.

"What job?" Ron asked, dumbfounded.

"To behave like the friend you always proclaimed you were." Snape was about to get up and pull the curtain aside, but Hermione's hand on his robe stopped him. He freed himself with a hard yank, too enraged by the boy to gently remove her fingers, but sat down again. "Get out boy, and stay away from her until you've learned what it means to support those in need."

"What do you know about it?" Ron barked, outraged. "You are the king of all things evil. You don't know what it means to be friendly or supportive, unless you are with your slimy Slytherins."

This time Hermione was too slow to hold Severus back, and he was out of reach before she swung her legs out of the bed.

The privacy curtain was ripped from its rail, as Snape pulled it to the side with unnecessary force.

"My slimy Slytherins know more about loyalty than you will ever understand, boy. They watch out for each other, like a big family. I have yet to see you take on your role as a prefect and actually look out for those in your care."

Snape was advancing continuously on a pale Ron, who twitched in fear when his retreat was stopped by another bed. He was trapped.

"All you've done is abuse your power and use it for petty payback. Now tell me which one is the better house!" Snape was close to shouting, a vein in his temple throbbing dangerously.

"Boys, boys, this is an infirmary, not a duelling platform," Poppy said loudly, as she placed herself between the men.

"If it were a duelling platform, you'd be comatose and beautifully disfigured, boy," Snape threatened.

"Severus, remember that you are a teacher," Poppy said, sounding very much like an aggravated mother. Ron got the brunt of her ire.

"Leave now, Mr. Weasley, before I turn a blind eye to Professor Snape's way of teaching you manners."

"You wouldn't…" the redhead began fearfully, but ran when he saw Snape take out his wand.

Hermione was sitting up in bed, watching Snape with an indecipherable look.

"What?" he snapped weakly, suddenly feeling silly for his outburst. Hermione had been able to keep quiet, and she was almost twenty years younger than he. Shouldn't it have been the other way round?

"Come here," she said, and held out her hand.

After a moment of hesitation, during which he made sure that Poppy and Minerva were leaving them, he walked over to her bed, but didn't take her hand.

"Closer," she said, patting the space next to her hip.

"Why?" he asked guardedly, but he was already in motion.

"You're awfully tense. I'm concerned that you might have a heart attack if you don't calm down," she said with a sardonic edge to her voice.

"I've lived with that temper for years, and haven't had any problems," he grumbled. Nevertheless, he followed her wish and sat down with his arms crossed defiantly, as if he awaited some scolding.

What Hermione had in mind had nothing to do with scolding, and she shifted closer to him with calculating eyes. "Are you feeling better now after letting off steam?" she asked kindly, keeping the friendly mockery down to a minimum.

"Not really. The boy hasn't learned anything, has he?" he asked rhetorically, not needing a confirmation.

"He'll get there, I'm… fairly sure of it." Her hand touched his lower back, making him jerk from the unfamiliar contact.

He turned his head towards her, looking a little unsure, but let her continue. "You sound as if you've lost faith in him," he remarked, feeling his eyes flutter as her fingers traced his spine up to the nape of his neck.

"Perhaps," she said softly, not wanting to think or speak of Ron at the moment. Ever so gently, she trailed her short nails over his sensitive skin, watching in pleased amusement as his shoulders hunched uncertainly, even while a pleased shudder made him tremble.

"Not… the neck," he ground out and she returned to stroke up and down his back, feeling the prominent vertebrae through his clothes.

"I won't hurt you," she promised.

"I didn't think you would," he responded sarcastically, trying to regain his unflappable persona. "I don't think I have given you reason to, or at least not recently."

She said nothing but smiled to herself. Ever so slowly, she brought her hand back up to his collar and dared to go upwards again, fingering his black locks ever so gently. He tensed at first, but gradually relaxed as nothing happened.

Hermione added two more fingers to the first and traced the smooth skin, and watched in awe and fascination, as his eyes closed of their own accord as he enjoyed her ministrations.

"Nghh," was all he was able to convey, but she was glad that he felt safe enough in her presence to let himself go, even if only to a small extent.

Her hand massaged the nape of his neck with steady and soft caresses, fingering his soft hair, and the velvety skin behind his ears. His posture slumped as his head fell forward. The feeling almost was too good to not be potion or alcohol-induced.

"I…" came past his lips and nothing more. It was hard to even form a coherent thought with this onslaught of pleasure coursing through him.

"You don't say, Minerva," Poppy's overly loud voice rang through the infirmary, causing Hermione to slowly drop her arm, running it along his spine as she did so.

She lay back down, and watched as Severus slowly gathered himself, taking a seat in the chair by the bed again. It was clear that the nurse had given them a chance to stop whatever they were doing.

"I didn't say anything," McGonagall said, perplexed, but cottoned on slowly as they came closer to the pair behind the curtain. "You don't think…" Her tone suddenly changed to prissy. "Severus Snape, what are you doing?" She yanked the curtain aside and barged up to the pair by the bed.

"Keeping watch over your student, Minnie," he said, in a sickly-sweet tone, yet his eyes were narrowed in displeasure over her apparent lack of trust in him. He kept speaking before he could lose his temper again. "Now, what about Weasley?"