"Has there been any change?" Hermione whispered, her voice cracking from lack of use. She hadn't moved from Severus's side since his brief surface from the deeply unconscious state that gripped him, and she now anxiously regarded the Mediwitch as she hovered anxiously over her patient, one hand pressed gently to his throat, her brow furrowed in concern as she interpreted the latest set of readings.
"He's worsening," releasing her hand from his pale throat she turned to face Hermione and gently took up her hands in her own, clearing her throat as she struggled to find the words, "He's slipping, Hermione. I think you would be wise to prepare yourself, my dear," she managed with a croak, her eyes filling with unshed tears.
Hermione held her gaze, furiously blinking away her own tears and tried to ignore the now familiar sense of panic rising within her. "Harry has a plan – I don't know what it is, but he thinks it could work and I trust him. He could bring Severus back to us."
Poppy looked down at their clasped hands with a sad smile, "He is a bright young man, Hermione, but I do not think even he can conjure miracles. You know the severity of the injuries Severus sustained, and we cannot yet know the extent of the damage to his mind after such a prolonged lack of adequate oxygen. You need to face the reality of the situation, for the possibility that Harry may not succeed." She squeezed the younger witch's hands before gently releasing them and moving back to the bedside. She looked down at the motionless man, a fond smile gracing her weary face, as she picked up a limp hand and smoothed it in her own.
"You know, he has always been quite an enigma. Quiet, so very controlled, introverted – we worried for a time, Minerva and I, about his mental state, how devoid of emotion he seemed – apart from anger, that is. He was quick to temper. He came from a volatile home, you see."
Hermione nodded mutely. Severus had told her very little about his childhood. She sensed he was hiding the worst of it from her but knew from the scant information he had shared that his father had little love for him and his mother being a tiny shrew of a woman, had been too afraid to challenge his brutish father's behaviour for fear of reprisal. Being an intelligent witch, Hermione had filled in the gaps and deduced that Severus's childhood had been effectively loveless, devoid of any nurture or affection. That he had most likely suffered violence and neglect on a daily basis. No wonder he had grown into such a tightly controlled wizard, his emotions held firmly in check at all times – his reaction to physical touch appeared almost painful, and it hurt her to see how the sensation was so unfamiliar to him and although he tried very hard to hide it, how much he craved it.
"Every time he returned here a little more haunted than before. I could never work out what he feared most – being abused at home or being attacked here," the Mediwitch sighed as she dropped wearily into the empty seat beside the bed.
"James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin," she hissed under her breath, the sudden hostility causing Hermione to jump.
"They hounded him. Wouldn't let him alone. They targeted everything about him – his poor clothing, his appearance, his friendship with Lily Evans – even his brilliance. They drove him to the Dark Lord with their relentless abuse, I am certain of it. Almost daily he was in the infirmary for one thing or another. I can't even recall how many times I patched the poor boy up. As they got older and Severus began to defend himself with his own spells, the injuries started to get more severe, his stays in the infirmary longer. By the time he reached his 7th year I was fully anticipating a fatal incident between those boys."
Hermione leaned forwards across the bed, her eyes round with shock "I didn't realise it was so bad for him. Why didn't Dumbledore intervene?"
The plump witch huffed a bitter laugh, "Dumbledore? Back a Slytherin over his precious Gryffindors? Not a chance! He failed Severus miserably. Even when he almost died in the Shrieking Shack all those years ago, Dumbledore did nothing to protect him. In fact, he made him swear not to tell anyone what had happened."
"What?" Hermione gasped in disbelief.
Poppy nodded grimly. "Couldn't risk Remus being discovered as a werewolf and being sent away from Hogwarts and the inevitable investigation that would follow. You can imagine the headlines – "Dumbledore leading his lambs to the wolves," literally! No, Dumbledore was a coward. He still is." Sighing she gently replaced Severus's hand back onto the warming blanket covering his torso and stood up.
"Minerva and I shouldn't have worried about Severus. Despite all he endured at the hands of others, despite making that dreadful decision to turn to the Dark Lord – even after all that, he was never the one to fear. He has an incredible mind, a truly masterful wizard with a wealth of power and knowledge behind him. He can duel like none other I have seen, create the most complex potions without the slightest concern – he can even craft his own spells and counter curses. In truth, I think Dumbledore fears him. Not only does Severus best him in magic and power, but also in strength of character, in courage. Severus returns to the Dark Lord time and time again, he takes the torture – he does things that abhors him and do you know why? Because he is fighting for us all, he takes on the suffering so others do not have to. Because he is a good man. He has been abused and vilified his entire life and yet he is driven to fight for those who would strike him down without hesitation." A solitary tear tracked down the mediwitch's face as she finally tore her adoring gaze away from Severus to lock onto Hermione. Her face was fierce.
"Severus was never the one to fear, but he is a believable villain. A Dark wizard, a follower of the Dark Lord, with a formidable temper and an acerbic disposition that acts as a most effective deterrent to even the most determined of people. How many would stop to look past the exterior and examine the man beneath? Who would you believe to be the real danger? The 'black bat' of the dungeon or the old wizard with the kind face in moon and star printed robes?"
Hermione recoiled in shock, "You can't mean –"
"He caused this Hermione – Severus is here because of him. Don't let those damned half-moon spectacles and those ridiculous robes fool you. Albus Dumbledore is as manipulative and dangerous as they come. He just hides it well." She bit her lip as she tried to regain her composure. "Heed my words Hermione, Minerva will back up all I have said."
Hermione nodded quietly, her mind working feverishly. The pieces were starting to come together and she didn't like the picture it was forming. She had always had a nagging feeling that Dumbledore was not quite who he appeared to be. She would have to speak to McGonagall, not because she distrusted Poppy, but because she needed to know everything.
Poppy gave her a small smile and left the room, leaving Hermione alone with Severus once more.
She rubbed a hand across her eyes wearily before settling back beside Severus and taking up his hand once more. She was about to surrender to the exhaustion that was invading her every pore when there was a loud crash followed by a cacophony of raised voices. Jerking back to full awareness, Hermione whipped her wand from her pocket and moved silently to the door which was still slightly ajar. Peeking through the gap, she could make out the pointy hatted shadow of McGonagall and the shorter, plumper silhouette of Poppy and three others whom she didn't immediately recognise.
"Leave immediately, you are not welcome here Lucius!" snarled Minerva.
Hermione quickly disillusioned herself and pushed the door further open until she could see the tall forms of Draco Malfoy and his father, Lucius. Beside them stood a stocky, wild looking man whom she didn't know. He appeared to be full of nervous energy and bobbed on the spot, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. A sense of foreboding began to creep over her. She advanced silently.
"Now, now Minerva, why such hostility? I am a Governor of this school and can visit as and when I see fit," came the arrogant drawl of Lucius Malfoy.
"The school maybe, but the Infirmary is my domain and you most certainly are not welcome here, Sir!" Poppy barked indignantly.
The senior Malfoy raised a manicured eyebrow in surprise, "Why Minerva, your little pitbull has finally found a voice! But dogs ought to know when to bark…" He advanced slowly and imperiously towards the mediwitch, but stopped abruptly as Minerva stepped between them.
"What business do you have here?" she demanded, her wand raised and pointed at his chest. Her face was set in a grim line that brooked no argument.
Malfoy regarded her warily. Minerva McGongall was a formidable witch whom he knew he was no match. To enter into a duel with her would be akin to offering himself up to Fenrir Greyback as a dinner date, wandless under a full moon. If a Malfoy knew anything, it was how to connive their way out of a situation such as this. A Malfoy was never to be found at the forefront of battle, more likely somewhat to the rear or beyond. He took a step back and bowed, arms raised in appeasement.
"I do not wish to provoke your considerable Celtic ire, Madam, but I merely seek to ascertain the veracity of some information I have become aware of this evening," he offered. As their eyes met, Minerva's narrowed in suspicion.
"What information is this, Mr Malfoy?" she spoke in a tight voice.
Malfoy stole a quick glance at his son before returning his attention to the two witches before him.
"That Professor Snape was mortally wounded earlier today and that he lies in this very infirmary. I cannot believe this to be true; that you would keep someone here when surely St Mungo's would be the most appropriate place for such grievious injuries to be tended? As both a personal friend and a Governor of this school, this news concerns me greatly."
The furtively exchanged glances between the two witches was not lost on Malfoy and he narrowed his eyes.
"Ah, so this information would appear to be correct," his expression hardened and he snarled, smacking his cane down to the floor with a crack, "You will admit me to his room immediately."
"Professor Snape is not in any fit state for visitors – "
Losing all patience, Lucius snarled in fury and advanced on Minerva, batting away her wand and pushing her up against the infirmary wall hard.
"I am tiring of this disobedience, witch," he hissed, his lips pressed close to her ear, one hand grasping her hair tightly and twisting it causing her to whimper, "Severus is a dear friend of mine, and I will see him with or without your consent." He beckoned the stocky blonde man over, "You see, Rowle here does not have much patience with uncompliant people, and he has quite a knack of getting them to do as he pleases. So, I would say that you would be well advised to do as you are asked, madam."
"Leave her alone," Hermione hissed, removing her disillusionment charm as she pressed the tip of her wand firmly into his cheek. He smiled as he slowly released Minerva's hair and took a slow step backwards. Rowle moved towards the young witch but Lucius quickly raised a hand to stay him.
"Well, well, well! Severus's little mudblood," he muttered as he slowly looked her up and down, "Not bad, for a mongrel." He snorted at the look of disgust on Hermione's face. "Oh don't worry, you are quite safe from me, I have no desire to taint the pure blood of Malfoy with your ilk. This is Severus's dirty, guilty pleasure." He sneered.
"What do you want with him?" she hissed, her wand still firmly pressed into his cheek. Draco fidgeted beside his father, his face pale, eyes flitting from Hermione to his father anxiously.
"He's dying, isn't he?" Draco breathed. Hermione was momentarily taken aback by the concern etched in his face and her wand wavered slightly before she steeled herself and reinforced her grip.
"Yes."
Lucius visibly paled. "I must see him, now," he hissed. He made to push the vine wand from his cheek and was rewarded with a firm prod.
"Why the panic Mr Malfoy? Why now?"
"We aren't here to hurt him Granger," Draco whispered, "He is my Godfather, if he's dying I – I need to see him before it's too late. Surely you can understand?" He finally raised his eyes to meet hers and Hermione felt her resolve crumble. She had never seen him look so vulnerable, so stricken. It was evident he cared for Severus and she couldn't be the one to prevent him from seeing him in what could be his final hours. What would Severus want? She already knew the answer and so she relented, hesitantly lowering her wand before nodding shakily at him. Ignoring the indignant hiss from McGonagall, she took a step back and allowed Lucius to pass her. He strode quicky towards the dimly lit room without a second glance.
"Please be quick," she whispered. Draco closed his eyes in relief before laying a hand on her arm in an unexpected display of gratitude as he moved past her, "I won't forget this, Granger" he whispered.
"Draco, to me now!" came the urgent bellow of the elder Malfoy, muffled by the slightly closed door, but loud enough to convey the urgency of the situation. Turning to go, he gave Hermione a final, watery smile, before raising his wand faster than she thought possible and hissing at her almost reluctantly, "Stupefy!"
As the red light slammed into her chest, Hermione was dimly aware of the twin shrieks of the two older witches just before the heavyset man called Rowle smashed their heads together mercilessly. Their cries were cut off instantly as he released their senseless forms and let them drop unceremoniously to the ground in a tangle of limbs. She fell heavily to the ground herself and could only lay staring up at the infirmary ceiling as her body locked firmly into place, feeling the bitter tears of betrayal slide noiselessly down her cheeks as Rowle stomped past her and into the side room after the two Malfoys. The voices were muffled and from her frozen position she couldn't see into the room itself to watch them. Feeling desperate she flicked her eyes around her limited field of vision and finally caught sight of a mirrored medicine cabinet anchored on the wall beside her which reflected a narrow glimpse of the doorway to Severus's room. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw the bulky form of Rowle hunch over the bed, as though beginning to lift something – no, no, no! Her mind screamed at her as the figure straightened, the limp form of her lover clasped in his arms. She caught a glimpse of the platinum blonde hair of Lucius, and as he shook it free from his eyes, she could see a desperate, panicked look on his face as he raised his cane and quickly began to unscrew the silver top. His mouth was moving rapidly but she couldn't make out the words. Finally he removed the end of the cane and gently tipped something into his hand. Hermione squinted hard – what was that? Another wand? No, a quill. As Draco suddenly cast a furtive look in Hermione's direction, she suddenly realised in a shock of panic what they were doing and just as Draco's weak stupefy began to wear off and her fingers and toes began to tingle she saw Lucius clearly enunciate a single word before tapping his wand to the quill. Portus. As feeling rushed back into Hermione's body she twisted awkwardly and tried to spring to her feet but her brain was clearly more responsive than her body and she stumbled onto her knees just as Draco's eyes met hers. With a trademark Malfoy smirk, he suddenly disappeared in a swirl of robes along with his father, their heavyset friend and his unconscious charge.
"NO!" she whimpered, sinking forward to the floor until her arms hit the cool tiles and she finally permitted herself to give in to her despair, heavy sobs wracking her body as she pounded the ceramic in sheer desperation.
Portus. The spell to activate a portkey. How could she have been so stupid? It was so deceptively simple, so completely Slytherin and so utterly predictable. Her stupid Gryffindor pride, her foolish belief that she was being compassionate to Draco when in fact, she was being taken for a fool. Severus was gone, she had no way of knowing where and without the many life saving charms Poppy had placed around his bedside he would most likely be dead before the morning broke.