The ward was full of noises. A disgustingly buzzing lamp disturbed Severus' uneasiness. The faint smell of potions, medicines, antibiotics, and magic herbs lingered in the air. The flickering of magic runes flashed somewhere around the bed. All this cacophony of sounds and smells drove Snape crazy. As far as he managed to understand: the Australian community lived with much freer views on magic than old good Europe, but this did not add to his calmness.
The hospital of St. Ignatius in an amazing way combined modern technology and healing spells. Patients were fed potions and injected with antibiotics if the magic did not show the proper response. In the corner of the ward, shadows were softly cast, enchanted by the incessant burning of the wood, but fluorescent lamps stood on the tables instead of magic candles.
The Mediwitch, who supervised Snape, somehow accidentally mentioned that, in addition to the title of Healer, she also had a Ph.D. in chemistry. Hermione's eyes lit up with new enthusiasm. For the first time in the past few days.
Severus rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, and peered into the pale streak of light left on the floor by tonight's full moon. He never expected that their trip to Australia would turn into an assassination attempt, that the conspirators would again be one step ahead of them, and that he himself would end up in the hospital.
Protego was a powerful spell, shielding even from the Unforgivables, but not protecting against conventional weapons. This insignificant detail was known only to the close group of people. More specifically, the Death Eaters of the Inner Circle. Snape sullenly recalled the Death Eaters' training and analyzed the situation.
No matter how hard he tried to explain to the overly self-confident Dumbledore that the Order of the Phoenix was just a bunch of naive brats, thirsty for feats, the Headmaster stubbornly stood his ground and proclaimed his pompous speeches. Love, goodness, high ideals, my boy, have at least a drop of hope, and you will find freedom. Innocent people died because of Dumbledore's Greater Good, while the Death Eaters reveled in debauchery and cruelty, and there was no universal justice for their deeds and sins.
Among the Inner Circle, many skilled wizards were well-versed in the Dark Arts and melee weapons. Ritual daggers, knives made of enchanted silver, swords made of goblin steel - purebloods who have acquired the art of fencing were accustomed to relying not only on a piece of magic wood, which, in fact, was their wand - just a piece of wood. The cold steel was especially appreciated by the Lestranges and the Blacks. Ah, yes, and dear Lucius hid in his infamous cane the most ordinary rapier, which more than once saved his life during duels.
The Blacks and the Lestranges. Bellatrix and Rodolphus. Snape considered, mechanically rubbing his faded Dark Mark, now bandaged with potion-soaked bandages. He never loved Bella, rightly considering her a crazy maniac, but this was not always the case.
Like all the stars in the bright skies of the Black family, Bellatrix was a brilliant witch who had no equal in the Dark Arts and Artifactory. She was a great lover of magic sciences, she dreamed that she would become the Head of the Blacks and would be able to revive her fading family. Who knows what exactly drove her when she accepted the Dark Mark, but she was a brilliant witch.
Her marriage to Rodolphus was imposed by the usual agreement among pureblood families. They seemed to have been betrothed all their lives, having come to terms with the thought of an imposed marriage since their very childhood.
Severus chuckled bitterly and shook his head: well, was the British Ministry any better than the purebloods now, if they issued the same Marriage Decree? The purebloods, in any case, had the opportunity to get to know their future spouse before the wedding. And there, if something happened, they always could shed a tear and beg their venerable papa to terminate the contract.
Rodolphus and Snape studied with the same Master's in China. Between them, there was even something akin to a tolerant attitude towards each other. Rudy was obsessed with the purity of blood, he was ready to kiss Voldemort's arse if only he would live up to his promises, Lestrange was very good at the Unforgivable spells and Potions. He also loved his wife very much.
Bella and Rudy seem to have known each other since childhood. Snape vaguely recalled that Orion Black personally taught them the Dark Arts, and they were always competing, trying to outdo each other in their skills. Sirius once mentioned that he wanted to seriously study Artifactory with Rodolphus. Black was obsessed with motorcycles, Rudy was obsessed with melee weapons, Bella was obsessed with dark curses that could not be removed.
Snape lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes as the daylight was beating in his eyes, Hermione thrashed restlessly in her sleep, pain was throbbing in his temples.
Could he be right in his guesses? Rudy was avenging his wife's death while Snape struggled to save Hermione?
He could.
Snape recalled with a shudder the twisted love between Rodolphus and Bellatrix. They both loved strength and power. How many Muggles have fallen victim to their Cruciatus? They were countless. Bella's raids have always been the most successful. She wore a couple of daggers in her belt, the wounds from which had been healing nastily or did not heal at all. It all depended on what kind of poison Rudy had brewed and Bella soaked her daggers in.
They both were crazy, but they loved each other. They both were trying to revive their dying families, Bella desperately wanted to give birth to an Heir or Heiress and dedicate him or her to serving Voldemort. Colorful stories about the totalitarian sects that Severus had read a lot about in the old days came to his mind. He barely refrained from snorting. Well, the Death Eaters fit the description of self-sacrificing blind men who believed in imposed ideals.
Well, in the kingdom of the blind, even the one-eyed one could be considered king. Voldemort once gave them in the past what they longed for: the revival of ideals that had sunk into oblivion.
Rodolphus loved his wife...
Severus pushed the dark thoughts away and turned his gaze to Hermione, sobbing in her sleep. She spent days and nights at his bedside, despite his assurances that he was definitely not going to visit the Afterlife anytime soon, while she needed to rest, and so on. In her stubbornness, his wife could even argue with the dead. Severus was quite alive.
He watched Hermione with nagging tenderness. She worried about him. And it was so weird. Severus winced, feeling a nasty shiver run down his spine. They were both the losers of many of their own battles, surviving the bitterness of victory and the joy of disappointment, both were pretty much ground with the millstones of life, but they continued to stubbornly go forward. They held on to each other.
Severus reached out and gently stroked Hermione's cheek as she murmured something in her sleep.
"Hermione? Please wake up and come here, to my bed. I know that you are suffering from cold there, but I cannot get up now and carry you here."
Hermione narrowed her eyes sleepily, recognized her husband anxiously bending over her, smiled, and crawled onto the next bed. Severus immediately embraced her, shaking his head disapprovingly as she shook off a half-forgotten panic attack.
"Well, what did you manage to overthink this time, wife?"
Hermione shifted, wrapping her arms around his waist, and pressed her body against him. Severus waved his hand, trying to summon the blanket that had slid to the floor. It twitched but remained on the floor. Hermione put her hand behind her back and beckoned the annoying piece of bedding with her finger.
"That's better," she commented contentedly, wrapping both of them in the blanket that had flown in at her call.
"So?"
Hermione sighed, understanding from her husband's tone of voice that he had long since understood everything about her paranoia and that didn't make him immensely happy.
"Will you start reproaching me for being overly anxious about you again now?"
"I'll start, if there is a reason for it," Severus drawled, drawing relaxing patterns on Hermione's back. He had always been partial to acupuncture and healing charms.
"Severus, I'm so scared. I was standing at that airport, you lost consciousness, people were scurrying around us, but I was seeing the faces of all those I could not protect. My parents. You bleeding in the Shack, Fred, glazing up at the sky with glazed eyes. Tonks, shielding Remus from Avada. Sirius disappearing behind the Veil. What kind of a witch am I if I can't even save those I hold dear?"
Severus lifted her chin with his index finger, cupped her face in his hands, and pressed a soothing kiss to her lips.
"If I remember correctly, Black gave us security lectures a couple of hours ago and reminded us of constant vigilance. Fred is waiting for us to get home and I'll try Legillimency on him. Your parents are alive, I have already told you many times that they were next on Voldemort's list. A list of innocent Muggles doomed to perish. As for me, wife, don't dismiss me so quickly."
"You shielded me from the dagger," Hermione whined in sorrow.
"When I married you, I swore by my magic, blood, and life that I would be able to keep you safe. A tarnished knat would be the price of all these vows if I lost you."
"Severus, I thought I lost you. How could I go on living without you?"
"Now, now, wife. Do not cry, dear, you will mourn me if I die, but now there is no need to shed tears in vain. I'm not going to leave you face to face with this cold, cruel, and indifferent world."
"We're so broken, Severus. You and I."
"This is true, but that is why we understand each other so well. Sleep, dear heart, I'll watch over you."
"Hug me?"
"Don't harass yourself with empty worries, Hermione."
"How can I not to? We are being hunted by all and sundry, and you insist that I am unnecessarily harassing myself."
"A lot of ill-wishers want you and me gone, Hermione. We are too intolerable for them to understand us. Too smart. Too strong. Too ambitious. We believe too much in our own omnipotence. We are changing the world for the sake of a new time, of course, many narrow-minded wizards do not like it."
"But Rodolfus Lestrange?"
"You know, while he's an insane megalomaniac, I understand him," Severus announced suddenly. Hermione lifted her head and stared at him with a dumbfounded gaze.
"This does not mean that I do not want to personally murder him, but I would swap heaven and earth for your sake." (and a few time loops - an inner voice reminded him, but Severus left this comment unanswered).
"Why can't everyone just leave us alone?"
"Would you like to sit in a village at the end of the world and calmly waste away your talents?"
Hermione snorted.
"Of course not."
"That is why we will fight. Just…"
"What, Severus?"
"Promise me, that you will believe me, no matter what happens?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Noting for now. Just promise me."
Hermione shrugged.
"Okay. I promise."