Chapter 8: A New Discovery

Hermione had been woken up by Crookshanks' mews near her ear. She had irritably covered her head with the blanket but when her familiar remained mewing and even kneading her blanket-clad arm, she got up.

"What is it, Crookshanks?" She asked tiredly. One look at her familiar instantly reminded her that she had forgotten to feed him the last night.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Love!" She apologised, leaping out of bed. She quickly gave him his food and petted him in apology, before settling back into bed.

She was forgetting things, a sharp contrast to her general self. In fact, now that she was awake, she could hardly comprehend what time could it be—early morning or late evening? Her head felt fuzzy and a deep weariness discouraged the mere idea of leaving her bed.

In that groggy fuzziness, Hermione wondered who had brought her luggage and Crookshanks to her in the first place. It must have been Professor McGonagall, she decided. She was kind enough to handle her parents' burial, after all.

Her thoughts drifted to her little tirade she had addressed to Snape two days ago. Well, she had genuinely felt relieved. Hermione would have felt guilty had it been anyone else she had talked to like that, especially to a Professor, but Snape deserved it. Her parents had always taught her to be respectful, no matter a person's age or position. But that clearly did not apply to Snape.

Just as her eyes drooped again, a loud horn resounded from the street, startling her into wakefulness. She sighed and curled up on her side, but suddenly she wasn't too sleepy anymore. Maybe because she had but slept for the last two days with small, punctuated periods of wakefulness in the mornings.

Crookshanks hopped back on the bed. Despite full, he kept kneading Hermione's arm, as if telling her to remain awake. Now that understanding was dawning on her, she realised it was early morning. Reluctantly and fighting the firm grip of lethargy that weighed heavily upon her, Hermione grabbed a change of clothes and decided take a shower.

UUUUUU

When Severus had come out of his Lab, it was to find that Granger's cat had made itself at home on his favoured armchair in the living room. The ginger ball was asleep, leisurely enjoying the soft spot. The maroon armchair already had the fur clinging to it. Severus rolled his eyes—the very reason he liked nothing with a godforsaken fur instead of decent hide.

"Get up, Cat!" He snarled, standing before the animal. "Leave my furniture before I turn you into my dinner tonight." That thought was exceptionally nauseating, though. But whatsoever, the bloody animal did not budge.

Severus rolled up the Prophet and prodded the animal with it. That seemed to have an impact. The animal strained one eye open, stared at Severus, then went back to sleep, turning its face away.

"Bloody feline! Get up and out of here!" He growled.

The animal opened both its eyes, hissed at him, then again, went back to sleep, unbothered.

"What a stubborn animal!" He huffed. "Takes too much after its Mistress."

He suddenly felt too foolish to be having a conversation with an animal, that too one who was asleep. Severus rolled his eyes again and settled himself on another chair, muttering under his breath of how he would like to make his next potion using feline blood.

It was then that it started. The first muscle spasm that promised many to follow. He dropped the Prophet from his hand, and doubled over himself in a vain attempt to lessen the pain. He gritted his teeth to keep from screaming in the agony.

Knowing better than to wait for the pain to worsen, he fished his wand from his sleeve with shaking hands. A stroke of Non-verbal magic summoned a potion from his Lab, one that he had kept high stocks of, for moments like those.

A blue liquid filled glass vial came rushing into his hand. Severus managed to grab it before it could hit something and get smashed. He uncorked it with his teeth and spat the cap away.

Clutching his torso with one arm, he tossed the contents of the vial into his mouth with the other hand. It would take some time to feel the relief. Severus threw the vial away in frustration, and again doubled over to clutch his torso with both arms.

"Fuck the bloody megalomaniac!" He cursed under his panting breath.

Those spasms were the effect of the continuous use of Cruciatus over Severus... They would hit him off guard and demand attention. Though today, he was grateful for the mercy of a comparatively less intense bout. His potion was, though effective, only worked as a reliever, not a cure. But those spasms were seemingly increasing in number just as the bouts of Cruciatus. He feared of having one such absolutely embarrassing episode in front of a room full of students, worst if one added the Gryffindors.

Then, Severus would accept death with pleasure.

The spasm subsided, leaving a deep ache and tenderness in his trembling muscles. He was too much in pain to consider moving, still gritting his teeth.

He heard the guest room door open and footsteps coming downstairs. Severus cursed. Couldn't the girl have stayed in her room for some more time! She hardly ventured out at this hour otherwise. Begrudgingly, he sat up and leaned in the chair, smoothening his features.

With the corners of his eyes, he watched Granger hesitantly looking at him. "What happened?" She asked with uncertainty.

Severus didn't dare to move bodily, only let his eyes travel to where the girl was rushing towards him, horror written over her face.

Had he screamed? No, he did not.

"What happened to you?" She asked again, looking him up and down.

"I beg your pardon?" Severus pretended.

"Something just happened to you," she gave a vague reply. "You are in pain."

What? "Miss Granger, what gave you that impression? I hope not your fantasy." He bit out.

She ignored his tone and continued looking at him with wary eyes. "I am sure, something did happen just now..."

Is she a Legilimens? "Whatever possessed you to blabber absurdities this early in the morning is beyond my comprehension," he said tartly.

"You are in pain, I somehow...know," she said, sounding floored, herself.

"And how did you have happened to stumble upon that conclusion, care to explain?" Snape almost knew what was to follow...

"I...don't know..." She mumbled. "I just...felt it..."

Severus quickly leaned forward to face her closer, immediately regretting and suppressing a wince. "You could feel the pain?"

"No," she blurted. "I could feel that you were in pain."

"Did you have a vision?" He asked, praying that the answer was not in affirmative.

"I just felt it—not a vision, just a...a knowledge," she said. "I can't explain it. Is it because of this...this bonding or whatever?"

Severus leaned back, wanting nothing more than to retire to bed again. "I suppose so."

"Oh, God!" She muttered.

Indeed. Was the girl to know everytime he was in physical discomfort of this sort?! At that rate, he would soon embrace death! He felt like the bonding was more tormenting on him than on her, what with first that unpalatable jam to tolerate and then with the flagrant breach of his privacy!

Well, perhaps it served him right.

"What had happened?" She asked awkwardly.

"A minor muscle stretch," he said tersely.

"Do you...need anything?" Her voice was not dripping with disdain that one time, but it wasn't amicable, either. As if she had to muster great efforts to remain civil to him.

"No." Severus said with more force than necessary.

She looked at him for a moment more before muttering, "Fine."

UUUUU

The rest of the day was uneventful. Granger had quickly cleaned the kitchen table again before washing another of Severus' clean handkerchief, while he had deliberately sat nearby to also satisfy the fourth term of spending thirty minutes in each other's company. After the chores were satisfactorily over, she had again locked herself in her room.

Severus had conveniently lied about Minerva sending her meals from Hogwarts. He sent her meals to her room with magic, while she probably took them to be sent by the house-elves from Hogwarts. That was a suitable setting.

With his every meal, Severus somehow managed to swallow the damn jam, reminding himself that he had had the displeasure of swallowing worse-tasting potions than that.

That exact routine had been followed in the last two days.

There was no way they could imagine to live like that for the rest of their lives—however short they were.

The muscle spasm that had racked his body in the morning was a sign that he would not have much time at the rate. The punishments the Dark Lord 'bestowed' upon him would soon claim his life—if not while under the Cruciatus, then while enduring the aftermath. Each time, he was taking longer and longer to recover. The potion that he provided some respite was not a permanent solution by any means. He rubbed his temples again, feeling the brewing headache, once more. That, too, was commonplace now. He had nerve damage—that could be healed with efforts, but he did not get enough time to let it heal before he was summoned again.

Even Poppy, being a Medi-witch who occasionally treated Severus after the particularly bad meetings with the Dark Lord, was at her wits' end. Severus, being a qualified Potions Master himself, was not under any illusion, he was aware of the damage his body harboured at present.

He had, in fact, accepted the reality of his situation with relative ease. Severus Snape was never afraid to die. Each time he was summoned, he held the cognisance that it could be his very last day in the role of a spy. Thus, fear of death would take him nowhere. But now, Granger's life was entwined with that of his... If he were to die, the girl, too, would, eventually. She was young, she was supposed to have a life worth living, worth her potential and her intellect. Not get herself enslaved to him, for Merlin's sake!

More than twenty years as a spy, well more than that as a Death Eater—and it was that day that Severus was feeling truly trapped. In the cage of his own making.

Even in his death, he would be committing another crime, another destruction—he would destroy a life even when his soul left his body.

'Does it soothe your tainted soul—if you still have one, that is!'

He snorted in derision. How strange—his thoughts were similar to her in that matter. He, too, didn't think he had one left anymore.

Granger had berated him to her heart's content. But he wondered why she didn't make a remark about the other night...the consummation... She could have taunted him over that, as well. Merlin knew she would have been well within her rights to do that! Maybe, she was not willing to accept that encounter. Yes, that had to be the reason. Of course. After all, what he had done to her was unutterable. Another shame that Severus would have to carry with himself...

You are pathetic, Severus! Stop weeping over your fate and find a way to manipulate the bond so the girl doesn't follow you to the grave!

Severus huffed. He had a long summer ahead of him—and probably, the last summer of his life.

UUUUUUU

Snape's head was hurting. Again. It had been three days since Hermione had been doomed to her new life. In those three days, it was probably the third time that she knew of Snape having a headache. Not that she cared. But on a human level, she did think why it was that he was experiencing such frequent headaches. Maybe, he needed to get his eyes checked. Or maybe it was an old case of Migraine

She just knew. She didn't feel the pain, to her relief, but she had the knowledge. A nebulous understanding that there indeed was an ache, but if it was due to an injury or a migraine, she could not quite say.

It had first happened when she was in her room, going through an album of her parents' wedding when suddenly, she knew that Snape was in some kind of pain, a spasm or a sprain or a stretch. She had thought herself to be imagining it. Then, she had thought that she was losing her mind.

But when she had finally gone to the living room, one look at the man had told her that he was, indeed, in pain. Although, his face had betrayed no signs of it, his stiff posture was rather telltale.

Since then, she had received a quiet knowledge his ailments. He had also scorched or cut his digit once, a day before. But when she had taken a clandestine glance at his hands, it seemed healed. This new discovery disconcerted her greatly. Why would she want to know what Snape did or felt or endured... She was glad that it was not a two-way system.

The makers of the Dark Wedding—the name itself made her cringe—had a very twisted set of ideals. Once she reached Hogwarts, she would try to find books on the bonding ceremony to improve her inadequate knowledge.

But for now, she could only wait and pray that the abject bond had no more aspects to itself which she will find out later.

UUUUUUU

"How are you faring?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Her thin, frail hands were wrapped around her tea cup. Hermione noticed that there were bags under her eyes and wrinkles that were not on her face until the last term. She had been in St. Mungo's after the Ministry officials had come to arrest Hagrid. Perhaps, the lady was still a bit unwell. But Hermione was grateful to her for whatever her Head of House had done for her, from arranging her parents' burial to making the efforts of packing her belongings and bringing them to her.

Along with her familiar, her clothes and books, she had also brought her the photo frames that were decorated in her living room, back home, with all the pictures of her parents and herself. Even several precious albums were safely packed within the boxes. Her Head of House had looked after her on the first day, making sure that she had a room, that she ate, that she was showered. Hermione was sure her Professor had also looked after the injuries that she had gotten that night when Voldemort's men had put her under Cruciatus several times... To think that Hermione had perceived the lady to be hard-hearted and indifferent on her first day as a Hogwarts student...

"I'm..." Hermione didn't know what to say. She was not fine by any means. "I'm trying?" She mumbled, though not convinced herself. Hermione had managed to leave the guest room only because the Professor was paying a visit, otherwise for her, the difference between day and night was quite quickly diminishing. It was not called 'trying'.

"Of that I have no doubts," she gave her a small tight-lipped smile. "Professor Snape told me you went to see your parents?"

Hermione held her own cup tightly. Sitting in Snape's kitchen, she did not want to talk about her parents, not there. "Yes, I did... Um, Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you, very much," she said with hesitation. She did not think that mere words of gratitude would be a repayment enough. "For what you did...the burial, you know..."

Professor McGonagall looked almost puzzled before quickly nodding. "Oh, yes. That was...no trouble at all."

"And for getting my things to me...you really didn't have to do that for me, Professor," she said earnestly. "Thank you so much."

The lady looked ill at ease. Hermione surmised she was not used to such exposed emotions. "You don't have to thank me for anything, Miss Granger."

"I have to, actually," she said, looking up from her cup. "I know you're busy with the Order, and are still recovering from the...you know, the whole St. Mungo's experience...but still, you are taking time out to send me meals from Hogwarts, every day, and coming here to just check on me... That does mean a lot to me, Professor, really."

Hermione imagined the lady muttering something like, "The meals?"

"Sorry, Ma'am, I didn't catch that?" Hermione said politely.

"Oh, nothing," she waved if off. "I also got to know that Professor Snape has worked out how to manipulate the bond, yes?"

Hermione nodded.

"I am assuming it is working, then?"

"It is," she mumbled. Hermione did not want to talk about anything that involved the despicable man.

"Hermione?" the sudden absence of formality drew her attention to the lady. "Is he treating you well?"

Hermione, at a loss of words, stared at her Professor dumbly.

"The consummation..." Professor McGonagall's voice became stiff. "I hope you know that it was a one time thing, and he cannot manipulate you to go through it again."

Blood rushed to Hermione's face. "I know. Although the terms-"

"It is not a compulsion," the lady stated firmly. "Yes, Professor Snape is—unfortunately—at an advantage here, to demand it from you. But I want you to know, Hermione, that if that is to happen, if he does demand that of you—not that I doubt him at all to stoop so low ever—you will tell me and not suffer in silence."

"Of course," Hermione said with a firmness "He has said that I don't have to worry about...that term... I will never allow myself to become a...a puppet. That is not who I will ever allow myself to become, Professor. I value my self-respect too much for that to happen."

Professor McGonagall have a smile. "Good. I don't expect anything less from my Gryffindors, or anyone else for that matter."

Hermione took a sip of her tea and picked up a biscuit from the plate. It was then that it hit her—the consummation. God! She squeezed her eyes shut in disgust.

"Hermione?"

She opened them and looked at Professor McGonagall's worried face. "I...It's nothing, Ma'am."

"Well, if you don't want to share it with me, I can understand, but you should know that I am always available to talk to," she said politely—in a voice that she seldom used with her students.

Hermione nodded. Christ! Disgust filled her mind as she involuntarily recalled the night... How could she have...enjoyed it? No. She did not 'enjoy' it, it was a body's natural reaction to...that kind of stimulation. She did not know how to prevent that...reaction. It was her very first time—and most certainly her last, and she had felt so vulnerable, not knowing what to expect.

Bile rose in her throat as her mind kept tormenting her with flashes of that night. Though dark, she could see him. She could hear his voice. God! She hated the man! He must have truly taken his pleasure from that.

But suddenly, a part of her told her that he did not—and she knew it. Snape did not enjoy it. She didn't think that he did... He had tried to...help her? Telling her to relax, to breath... In fact, he was careful enough not even to brush her skin more than strictly required. Now that she did think of it, he had not touched her at all.

Begrudgingly, she accepted that a killer though he was, but not a rapist. He at least had the decency of not acquiring any demented pleasure through that.

But still, she hated him. And will always hate him. Maybe, he was just afraid that Hermione would tell the Headmaster if he tried anything with her. Yes, that had to be it.

"Hermione?"

Professor McGonagall's voice startled her. Hermione realised that she had crumbled the biscuit in her hand. "Sorry, I just..."

"That's alright, child," Professor McGonagall said softly. "You have a lot to take in. Why don't you indulge yourself in something that distracts you? Finish your summer assignments, perhaps?"

"I have already finished them..." She said with a hint of a smile.

"Of course," the lady shook her head. "That was a suggestion worthy of your friends, not you."

My friends. What was she to tell them? "Professor, do...Harry and Ron know?"

"We cannot tell Mr. Potter about the Dark Wedding or the arrangements made to manipulate the bond, due to his psychic connection with Riddled ," the lady sighed. "Mr. Weasley will not be able to keep it a secret, as you are aware."

Hermione nodded. The Professor was right. Anyway, she did not want to answer their questions about Snape and what was her future in the situation. Those were the questions she did not even want to address to her own self yet.

"But we have told the Order, and your friends, about your parents," the lady said, a little hesitant to touch that subject. "The Headmaster has informed them yesterday that your house was attacked, but you were not present at sight for them to harm you."

"Oh, they know..." She mumbled.

"Molly was adamant upon you staying at The Burrow but they had been told that you are currently at a safe house," she said. "They have sent you letters. I believe the owls will reach you by later today or tomorrow."

Hermione did not want to stay at The Burrow, anyway. She did not have the will to face them and their sympathy for her. She did not have the courage to discuss any of it...

"Poppy- Madam Pomfrey was telling me that you want to work with her the coming year?" The change of topic was welcomed by Hermione.

"Yes, Ma'am," she nodded. "I have qualified for all the required subjects and I want to become a Healer. So I thought it would be better for me to learn from her during the school years, instead of wasting my years after graduation. I will directly take my HEMs after taking my NEWTs."

"Yes, I agree with you," the lady nodded. "You are one pupil, I am sure, who can manage that along with her regular classes. What classes will you be taking then?"

"I was thinking of taking Herbology, Potions, Charms, Transfiguration and Defence," she listed. "The first four are relevant in the field that I have chosen and Defence because now I have even more reason to bring Voldemort to his defeat." The last part was said with bitterness.

But the Professor seemed to understand, not even too discomfited by her use of the forbidden name. "Excellent choices, I would say. You can ask Madam Pomfrey to refer you some books on Healing."

"Oh, I am already reading them," she told her.

"Oh, Merlin," the Professor chuckled. "Then, I would ask you to go around the neighborhood and interact with the Muggles around here, just to pass your time for a bit."

"Muggles?" She asked in surprise. "Are there Muggles around?"

"Why else do you think a Wizard would have a gas stove and a refrigerator in his house?" She said, looking around. "This house is located in a Muggle neighborhood."

"I didn't realise it..." She mumbled.

"Well, now you do," Professor said lightly.

The rest of the conversation was mostly pertaining to Hermione's upcoming informal Apprenticeship with the Medi-witch and her Sixth year. They ceased from touching the dangerous topics. Hermione preferred it that way.

A/N: One of my very kind readers, Artisticmom2, advised me a little on my choice of a certain word. I would like to thank them for the help, because English is not my first language. I really appreciate reviewers who genuinely take time to analyse a work. Also, to answer their question, Hermione and Severus are honestly going to be at odds with each other for quite a long time... As I said in my introduction, it will be a gradual process because I want the story to be realistic. But as I am way ahead in my writing, I can promise you that when they do come close, you will love it. I have written some great chapters exploring their relationship. In fact, Just trust me and keep reading.

To my another very sweet reviewer, gisela19wwe, thank you for your appreciation. Yes, I was determined to make Hermione as fierce as possible. I didn't want to give an impression that she was meek or afraid. I'm glad that her character is being perceived that way. And as for Severus, even I feel a little bad for him while writing. He is, after all, my favourite character in the series. So happy that you're enjoying the story. Looking forward to hear more from you!

To all those who read and reviewed my work, heartfelt thank you to everyone. I love to read what my readers have to say about this story. :)