CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX—Blind
Author's Warning: Character tortured via magic
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Severus had somehow been left alone in the staff room with Alecto. Today, at least, she had valid questions about lesson plans instead of flirting on the mind.
"How much revision is too much?" she asked him. "I want to strike the balance between getting it through their thick skulls but not inundating them so much I can't cram anything else in."
Severus leaned against the windowsill. "I think the better question is, how many things do you want to mark each day?"
She threw her head back to laugh. "Yes, there is that, too."
If Narcissa's polite titter and Bellatrix's shriek of a giggle had merged together, that would be Alecto's laugh. It was high-pitched but not the wheezy huffs Pettigrew subjected him to over their lone holiday together.
Amycus stuck his head in. Severus immediately did not like the crazed excitement on the man's face.
He waved his hands as if instructing an audience to hush. "No, no, please, that's enough—no need to thank me."
Severus really hated Amycus.
Alecto sighed and turned to face her twin. "What is it now?"
He pointed at his sister with pinnace. "You are the recipient of a two-hour detention with none other than Harry Potter himself. So now I don't have to help you rearrange your classroom. I refuse to set one foot in there. It still reeks of Muggle."
Alecto and Severus were equally surprised.
"How did you manage that one?" Alecto asked. "He's been right careful, he has."
"Which is not his forte," Severus added.
Amycus rubbed his palms together. "He Summoned his broom and near knocked me off the stairs. Then I found 'im and Granger running through the halls. Gave 'em both detention tomorrow night."
Alecto laughed again.
"You know, I think she's married to Potter," Amycus said to Alecto.
Severus's fingers dug into his arms.
"As you've said a hundred times before. Prove it," Alecto jeered.
He smirked at her. "I intend to. It makes sense, don't it?"
Yes, a Potter swooping in to steal a witch away from Severus. Amycus didn't know just how fitting that would be.
Amycus paced behind the couch and counted on his fingers. "They're always around each other—Dumbledore's pets, so he coulda had them married in a snap! Or maybe Scrimgeour before he died—" Amycus was off like a hex. "We know it's not the Weasley kid. It has to be someone in the school, too. Damn and blast! They've probably been married since summer!"
Alecto crossed her legs and arms. "I think the secret would've come out by now."
"What's your theory, then?" Amycus demanded.
"Goldstein."
Amycus paced again. "No. I've tailed him—it's not him."
"She has ample time alone with him, in there," Alecto countered.
Amycus slowed to a stop. He tapped his chin with one finger until that halted, too, all his energies directed to his brain.
"You know who else spends a lot of time with the bint?" Amycus asked them.
He made a show of spinning about face and drawing his wand from his pocket. Severus had a flashback to Gilderoy Lockhart facing him down.
He hated Lockhart and he loathed Carrow.
"Amycus, really," Alecto scolded.
"You always had a soft spot for Mudbloods, Snape,"
"If you don't lower your wand, or come to your point quickly, you will regret it." The Dark Lord would not be happy Severus had slaughtered a fellow Death Eater, but Severus could only take so much.
"You have your own dirty blood flowing through you."
"What part of 'quickly' confused you?"
Amycus jabbed his wand closer to Severus's face, jaw clenched tight. "She's married and she's always down there wit'you. She's a Mudblood, like that Potter woman. It doesn't take much to figure that out."
Not much indeed, he thought. "While I'm sure you read the rules thoroughly upon being hired, I'll remind you—professors are not permitted to marry students they presently teach." (Obviously that was a lie—and obviously, Amycus hadn't bothered to read any bit of his teaching contract.)
Amycus's lips twitched.
He gestured to the hallway. "Perhaps you haven't noticed, but she's damn near insufferable—and anyone of us would be happy to turn her over directly to the Dark Lord, no bounty necessary."
Alecto laughed. Amycus, lips twisted in disappointment, lowered his wand.
"If you need assistance in finding her husband, I'd much rather you asked than barge in here with nonsense," Severus said with a sneer.
"Blast it all!" Amycus huffed. "How does she bloody do it? How do she and Potter always find some dumb luck?"
Severus shared that sentiment, at least. "I have no idea."
"I'll find you," he warned. "It's one of these bloody students, and I'll find out which one."
Severus wished the Dark Lord hadn't seen fit to give Amycus this busy work. Though he was loathe to imagine what Amycus would do without this little project.
"I still say its Goldstein, but if it's Potter, I wouldn't be surprised," Alecto said.
So she would flirt with Severus when it suited her, but when her brother gunned him down she stayed silent? As foolish as it sounded, he knew Hermione at least would have started huffing and puffing with indignation—or outright hexed the fool.
"I'll find out," Amycus promised. His smile was sharp.
.
Hermione gnawed at the hangnail on her thumb. Harry drummed his fingers on the windowsill.
Ron and Ginny waited with them in these last few minutes before their detentions.
"He's gonna grill you," Ginny warned.
"I know," Hermione said.
"Just tell people you're married to me," Harry said. His eyes darted to Ginny's.
Ginny straightened her practice uniform.
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked.
"What, am I gonna be in more danger?" he joked. "They want to kill us whether we're married or not."
Ron shrugged with his arms crossed.
"Okay."
"Congratulations," Ron said.
Hermione slapped his arm. They all laughed.
"And you've seen him in class," Ron snorted. "You think Voldemort sent his weakest Death Eater here so none of us could fight back in good conscience?"
Ginny tied up her hair as she snickered. "We'll walk with you a bit."
They all dispersed—Harry to the fifth floor, Hermione to the second floor, and the siblings to the pitch.
Amycus leaned against his desk but stood up to greet Hermione.
"Oh good, we can begin." Hermione saw straight through his cheery façade.
She took a cautious step into the room. Her wand tingled against her forearm.
Amycus cast the door shut just as Hermione noticed the three firsties (or maybe second-years?) seated at the desk nearest her. She recognized them as Ravenclaws, even though they had discarded their ties and robes nearby.
Amycus clapped his hands. Words blossomed on the chalkboard like explosions.
The Stinging Hex.
"These boys missed the part of the class about the counter-curse and since they turned in a paper late, I thought it'd be a better use of their detentions."
Hermione waited for the 'other shoe.'
"Defence isn't all about fightin', it's about healin' the wounds you get, you see," Amycus continued. He paced before his desk.
Hermione watched the boys trade wary glances.
The most dangerous professor Hermione had at twelve was Gilderoy Lockhart.
"You want me to…demonstrate the reversal spell?" she asked.
"Certainly. We will need a volunteer for everyone to practice on." He turned to the boys
The three of them looked away.
Hermione clenched her fists. Her mouth twisted, lips closed tight lest she berate the bastard for this.
"They have trouble with the curse, too, you see," Amycus remarked to Hermione like they were chums, or discussing three show dogs.
"You don't volunteer?" Hermione asked.
Her drew himself up, but ended with a grin. "Certainly not—I must supervise. This is a dangerous spell in inexperienced hands."
She'd use her hands to slap this cur, if it wouldn't get her ejected from the castle.
Hermione tried to smile at the boys. "You can all practice on me and as soon as you get it right, you can leave."
All three pairs of eyes darted to Amycus for his reaction.
He said, "Excellent. Boys, you have the floor." There was more wheezing than giggling in his laughter.
As she suspected, Amycus didn't care about the boys, only Hermione's pain.
This was about hurting Hermione for daring. Daring to be here, to be secretly married. To study magic with dirty blood.
Hermione stood in front of Amycus's desk. The boys lined up. The first one clutched his wand in both hands.
"Well?" Amycus asked. He tapped an impatient foot. "Get on with it, or do you want to be here all night?"
The boy shook his head. He had messy brown hair, like Harry.
"Aculemuteo," he whispered.
Hermione's face reeled—the spell felt like being whacked with a hairbrush.
"Wrong," Amycus droned. "Try again."
"Aculemuteo!"
Hermione felt the tingling but it went away before the curse could take root.
"You have to mean it," Amycus sniped. "Do it right or you'll switch places. Do you think a…witch," he snickered, "like Granger half-asses her curses?"
The boy had big blue eyes like Ron did at twelve. He rucked up his courage.
Hermione nodded at him, encouraged him to frankly get on with it.
"Aculemuteo!"
Hermione bent at the waist as tears flooded from her eyes. Pepper-Up Potion in her eyes would be a relief from this stark burning in her skin.
She crossed her arms to grab each shoulder. The most damage occurred when a witch scratched at the injury, she knew that, but couldn't know how long she'd resist since he had hit her in the bloody eyes!
"What's the—how do I stop it?" the boy yelled.
"Hold on, let me get the book," Amycus said. Hermione had to pray he was actually fetching the book, for she couldn't open her eyes. The other two boys dove for their satchels.
Hermione put her hands flat on her thighs.
Her eyeballs dried and no amount of blinking would fix it. The tears further irritated them.
"Ah, here." He recited the counter curse.
Hermione let her head hang. She sniffled and soaked in the sweet darkness behind her eyelids as the pain slowly ebbed away.
"Think you have it?" Amycus asked.
Hermione didn't know what was going on outside of the swirling lights and hot tears on her face.
"Alright, curse her again," he said with zest.
Hermione clenched her jaw, her eyes and her stomach.
"Aculemuteo!"
She screamed inside her closed mouth as the hex hit her on the nose. She lifted her head straight back. Hot tears poured down her face.
"Propagaro!" the boy shouted.
Slowly, so slowly, the pain receded.
Hermione breathed through her mouth.
Amycus stood behind the three boys now, leering, hungry. "Before you left class, I told you: Aim for the eyes," he said.
"Professor, please, I think I have it," the boy pleaded.
"And I say you don't." Amycus was firm. "The. Eyes," he repeated slowly.
"Aculemut-teo!"
She cringed. Closing her eyes over the burning hurt too much and opening her eyes hurt even more.
"Propagaro!"
Hermione's eyelids and eyes were raw, like she had stayed under a hot bath for too long. She pried her eyelids apart.
Amycus appeared through a retreating mist. "I don't know…"
Hermione focused on him, her wet face shining in the torchlight.
He would pay for this.
"I'll give you an Acceptable for this. You may leave."
"I'm so sorry—"
"Anything else and you'll be back again tomorrow for wasting my time," Amycus interrupted.
The boy wavered until he decided to grab his bag and bolt.
Hermione wiped her nose and cheeks, leaving a wide ring under her eyes wet.
"You next," Amycus said to the second Ravenclaw.
Hermione swallowed the lump forming from her refusal to cry, more than she was forced to, anyway. It was hard to see, but she thought the kid had braces.
She thought of her parents and choked up before the boy could raise his wand.
He stumbled back, shaking his head and babbling a refusal.
Amycus grumbled to Hermione's right. "Aculemuteo!" he spit out.
He meant it. He really meant it, unlike the Ravenclaw.
Hermione shook, forcing her eyes to stay open as white hot pain speared through each socket.
The tears dropped straight from her eyes instead of rolling across her skin.
"Side effect of prolonged exposure to the Conjunctivus Curse include blurred vision, dry eyes, headaches, bleeding tear ducts and blindness." It sounded like Amycus was reading directly from the book. "Since this spell is a tick harder, I'd get on that counter-curse if I was you."
"P-propagaro!" the boy squeaked.
Hermione shook her head, panting like a dog, hunched over. It didn't work.
"Propagaro!" The relief was short-lived, and dulled the pain into something manageable.
"Propagaro!" the other boy said.
Hermione released her tensed muscles and nearly vomited with relief.
Amycus snapped, "Aculemuteo!"
Hermione flinched but it was a boy screaming now.
She shook her head, hoping and failing to clear her eyes. She dug in her robe for her wand.
The third boy, black with cornrows like Lee Jordan, screamed and dug his palms into his face.
Hermione felt for her wand but Amycus growled right behind her, "Do it and I'll curse him again. Ralph!" he snapped. "Heal Freeman before he wets himself on me floor."
Hermione bit her lip so hard she broke open one of the chapped lines.
Ralph flung up his wand too fast and had to try again.
It was agony to watch, and even worse to hear.
All three students panted with panic or pain.
Amycus ordered Freeman to give it another go.
He wiped his eyes on his forearm. Hermione wouldn't be able to pick him out of a crowd. Everything shifted in and out of focus.
"Aculemuteo!"
Hermione's body seized up. She must not touch her eyes. The light drilled into her eyelids.
"Propagaro!"
"Very good," Amycus said. "Now get out."
Hermione turned her face away to wipe her nose on her sleeve.
Carrow's shadow fell across her. It was easier to look in his face that way.
"We can stop," he said only loud enough for her to hear. "But you have to tell me one thing."
The Death Eater tapped his chin. "On second thought—no. I don't think I'd believe you. Not yet."
He turned to bark at the Ravenclaw. "Ralph! You have all the time you need to practice." To Hermione, he said, "He gets stage fright, you see."
Amycus backed out of the line of fire.
The last Ravenclaw, in a tremulous voice, said, "Aculemuteo!"
It was a minor sting compared to what had come before.
"Again," Amycus sighed. Perhaps he was truly disappointed his pupil could not master this spell.
"Aculemuteo!"
Hermione reeled back with the force of it.
"Much better!" Amyhcus cheered.
"Propagaro!"
Hermione bent in half. Her throat was tight.
Amycus grabbed Hermione under the jaw and forced her to stand straight.
"Now, I'd say I might believe you."
"P-Professor—"
"Leave," he snapped at Ralph.
The boy's footsteps ran out of earshot.
Tears flooded down Hermione's face. She could smell his acrid breath roll over her cheeks but could not make out any of his features.
"Who're you married to, Mudblood? What poor blighter got stuck with you?"
"Do Death Eaters always let twelve-year-olds take the lead?" she replied.
Amycus squeezed her face and raised his wand into a dueling pose.
"If you were my wife, you wouldn't run your mouth so much," he snarled.
"I'd rather you just cart me off to Voldemort than be married to you for even a minute."
"Aculemuteo!"
His thumb and fingers dug into her cheeks as she quaked. A sun burned white against each retina.
"Tell me!" he growled.
"Harry!" she shouted. "I'm married to Harry!"
He let her go. Hermione crumpled against his desk. He cancelled the hex without a word.
"That was easy, wasn't it?" he crowed.
Hermione's arm shook as she hauled herself to her feet.
"That will be all for tonight, Granger." The professor resumed his false cheer. "I'll trust you to see yourself out."
He blew out all the lamps before he left. Which, honestly, was more kind to Hermione than a detriment.
She used the desk as her guide. Carefully, she toddled over to the rectangle of light that was the open door.
If a Slytherin or anyone else interested in her bounty found her like this, she was buggered. Tears gathered at the edges of her eyes and burned.
She grasped at dark shapes as she walked. She hoped she was going the right direction but couldn't honestly tell how far she'd gotten.
Footsteps came up behind her. Her head spun with adrenaline.
"Salazar's garters, are you alright?" It was Anthony.
"She seems fine to me," Daphne Greengrass's voice sneered.
Hermione jumped when Anthony grabbed her arm.
"Daphne, can you finish patrol without me?"
She huffed. "Fine," she said, all petulant.
Anthony led her to their room.
Hermione panted, "Carrow."
"Which one?" he asked as he opened the door.
"It doesn't matter," she said. Her hands trembled around his arm.
"Let me get my book."
"N-no, I'll just sleep it off."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded. She had a potions master for a husband just steps away.
But he would lambast her again for yet another detention.
Each eye stung so much she began to cry—but the tears aggravated the dry veins.
Anthony got her all the way to the door.
"I can take it from here," she said. She hoped, anyway.
"Shout for me if you need anything. I mean it."
"I will."
Hermione sat on the bed. Her heart began to race now that Anthony was gone. Nothing looked familiar this way. It hurt to move her eyeballs even though it was dark in here.
Hermione bent down to have one hand on the bed until she reached her armoire.
"Oh, sod it all," she muttered. She couldn't see what clothes were in front of her anyway. "This feels like a uniform. That's a jumper…"
She was about to cry again. She felt her way back to the edge of her bed.
Hermione chewed her thumbnail. What if I'm stuck like this?
Her nose ran a bit, even as she forced the tears to stay back. A speck of panic settled in her sternum. What if her vision never returned to normal? If this was as good as it got?
Carrow would pay. She would find him and he would—
Hermione scoffed. She always thought revenge was a good idea, ala Marietta Edgecombe, until later, when she didn't feel at all better. Well, taking down Rita Skeeter had felt good. She'd keep it in mind.
Someone knocked on her door. Hermione jumped. No—not Anthony.
She cast a Silencio at the door that led to the sitting room. "Come in," she said to the door that joined her to the dungeons.
The door opened. It was hard to tell where Severus started and the gloom of his bedroom ended.
"It's midnight," he murmured. He turned up a lamp.
Hermione hissed and held her arm before her eyes. Her eyelids were like sandpaper.
"Have you been in here crying all night?" He sounded more revolted than concerned.
Hermione cast the light low before she would open her eyes. "Yes, I've been off crying. Thank you."
She turned her back to him to sit pretzel-legged. She was tired but didn't think she could sleep like this.
"Why?" he asked.
"What do you mean, why?"
He heaved out a sigh. "I don't ask schoolgirls why they're crying unless they've just burst into my office. I won't ask again."
Hermione peeked over her shoulder, squinting her enflamed eyes. "That happen to you often?"
"As often as it happens to FIlius, if you must know."
Hermione curled up to wrap her arms around her legs. "I wasn't crying. It was the Stinging Hex."
"From Carrow?" he demanded.
"Some—second-years, mostly." She thought Carrow had mentioned their names, but the pain blotted it all out.
"You didn't think to block them?" he chided, walking around to look into her face.
"I…couldn't."
He gestured for her to turn around. She huffed and scooted to the end of the bed.
He held her face in both hands. "How many?"
"Curses?" she clarified. "Nine, I think."
Severus was alarmed. He motioned at the lamp to brighten. Hermione struggled to keep her eyes open.
Though she couldn't see it, she felt it when his face twisted in a sneer. Like a searing heat came off of him when he did it.
"Wait here." He dropped the room into darkness as he exited.
Hermione pulled her hair over her shoulder and twisted it into a thick rope. A cramp gnawed at her intestines. She could be stuck seeing the world this way. She didn't know if she could handle it.
Her head stated to bob without permission. The sting beneath each eyelid kept her awake. Severus had been gone a long time.
She didn't think bumbling blindly into his lab too brilliant, so she stayed at the end of the bed.
He finally came back. She curled away when he turned up the light, what little he did. Severus held a bowl in one hand and something in the other she couldn't discern.
She heard him start to say something then change his mind. "Hold this."
He put the bowl in her lap and she grabbed it. A faint odor of the healing salve she brewed the other day wafted from whatever liquid sloshed in the bowl.
He tilted her chin up. Every facial feature was blurry, from his sharp nose to his sharp chin.
Hermione retreated a fraction. "What is this?" She couldn't bloody see.
Annoyed, but patient, he said, "Thinned restoratives and Strengthening Solution. Obliviously, it has to go on the affected area."
Eye drops.
Not Hermione's forte. Her mum had to do it for her.
Severus had his legs on either side of hers, his cold fingertips still on her jaw. They hadn't been this close since Hermione's guerilla kiss. Which, in retrospect, had not been quite as intimate.
He dipped what Hermione assumed was an eye dropper in the bowl, then held it above her upturned face.
She focused on the ceiling. The first bead of cool potion landed on the rim of her eyelashes. She jolted when it hit the target.
The relief was instant.
She kept her eye closed to soak in all she could; it evaporated instantly.
She opened her eyes and nearly cried. She would dump this entire bowl on her face to stop the itch. She grabbed his coat and tried not to whimper.
Severus steadied her face, his wide hand gripping where her head met neck. He dropped the liquid into the other eye, mostly. Some left a chill trail down her cheek.
Severus repeated the action in each eye several times.
Hermione felt the potion slosh, at least half of it left when he stopped.
"Why—"
"We don't know what effects all of these potions will have, exposed so directly to your system," he cut her off.
Each eye strained inside each raw socket.
He examined each eye, turned her face from side to side. "We'll have to see what this is like tomorrow."
"Your friend Carrow's a bloody coward."
She felt his fingers twitch on her cheeks. "He cursed you all detention?" he asked though he already knew the answer.
"No. He made some Ravenclaws do most of it."
Severus dropped his hand.
The lamplight was overlaid with a thick film. Anything further away than Severus was still too blurry to make out.
"Am I going to go blind?" She would not let go of him until she knew.
Severus pulled the bowl from her lap. "I'm not going to let you go blind."
Hermione squinted up at him.
"I haven't spent all this time training you for you to go blind and have to relearn it." He tugged her coat from her hand to disappear into the dungeon's gloom.
Hermione wiped her face. Her stomach had calmed when Severus came back with what she had hoped was a cure.
No big deal, she told herself. I'll just—go to sleep. Our nearness should help. It will definitely help. Tomorrow, I will be better.
She stood up and did her best to walk to their shared room.
Hermione put her hand against the cold wall to feel her way over to the bureau where she hid her nightclothes.
The pain crept in from the edges of each eye. She tried to focus on the blurry shape of Severus returning from his lab.
"He didn't run to you to brag again?" she asked. She grabbed something and tried to figure out which way was up or if it was inside out. It felt like a t-shirt, maybe.
It seemed the professor finally realized Hermione still could not see—he shuffled the shirt the right way up and put it back in her hands.
"Would it be too much trouble for you to stay out of trouble?" he groused.
"I won't let them do this to firsties. Or to those second-years." She attempted to walk to the washroom. It was embarrassingly slow going. She was not as familiar with this room as she was her own.
Severus's hand wrapped around her arm to be her guide.
"It's wrong."
"If you do not think about yourself, no one else will," he sniffed.
Hermione yanked her arm away when she could make out the doorway to the washroom ahead of them. "That is not true."
He sighed in disappointment. She made it the rest of the way and closed the door behind her. It was pitch black and that's how Hermione wanted it at the moment.
Clothes off, t-shirt on and then she realized she had not brought any trousers to sleep in.
The ever-present sting in each eye prevented her from caring all that much about it. She brushed her teeth and no doubt made a mess in the sink. The only time she had ever missed a tooth brushing was when she had been Petrified. Amycus Carrow wasn't about to stop her now.
.
Severus readied for bed as well, on the other side of the door. He had not intended for a late night. He wasn't really sure why he had stayed awake. He had that gut feeling that something was off when she did not return after the two-hour detention should have ended.
He was entirely too thankful that Potter, at least, had kept his mouth shut this year and did not earn a detention every night like he had with Umbridge.
Severus pushed his hair from his face after he pulled on his t-shirt. He had never imagined he'd find Hermione half-blind.
His body was tired but his brain would not quiet. He laid down and tried to stop thinking.
Hermione shuffled out of the washroom and stayed close to the bed. A few times she put her fingertips on the mattress to ensure she stayed on track. Severus had the lamps as low as they could be without turning them off.
He noticed the Weasley Wizard Wheezes shirt (a violent purple one could not miss) and that being it, aside from the sliver of teal panties he could see. An interesting time to be brazen, he thought.
He watched her cautious steps. He watched her bare legs, rather. Hell, she couldn't see him as he stared.
She sat on her side of the bed with her back to him.
She immediately vomited on the floor.
"Shite," he murmured as he shuffled over to her side.
"Oh God," she sniffled, wiping her mouth with her arm. "Of course, this could get worse."
She took deep breaths. "I've never taken Strengthening Solution before," she struggled to say.
"Of course not," he grumbled. He felt the bed tremble with her. He waved his wand to clean the mess, then gently pushed/pulled her shoulders so she lay in the bed on her side.
She continued to shake. "Not like I ate much," she muttered.
"I will think of something else to try," he sighed, still perched to look at her face.
Hermione turned her head to look at him, eyes streaked with malevolent red and pink veins. "You know," she said, "I get a Weasley discount from the store."
Assuming she couldn't see his look of confusion, he said, "How would that possibly help in this situation?"
"It would certainly help my need for revenge." She resettled on the pillow. It looked like she refused to blink until she had to. "I don't normally feel great after I get it. But then I threw up and I hate throwing up."
He nearly laughed. He did assure her, "We don't need to purchase anything for our revenge. I've pondered that as well."
"He only cursed me twice," she scoffed. "Bloody coward."
"Yes. He…"
"What?"
"I was going to say convinced the Dark Lord to Crucio me for three hours, but the Dark Lord does what he wants without Carrow's influence."
She heaved a large sigh. "I guess setting off fireworks in his office won't cut it, then."
He grinned.
It was weird.
He stopped.
He laid down with his back pressed to hers.
"I could kill him," he offered.
"I won't get in your way," she mumbled back.
He wouldn't kill him. Not during the school term, anyway. He would not have time to teach Potions and Defence again like he had last year. He'd think on it.