Beta Reader!
Author's Note: Yay and double wahoo! I now have myself a beta reader! Everyone say hello to Alexis! I'm so excited. She'll be starting with chapter five so everyone be on the lookout for good grammar and prose-flow! This is likely to be one of my favorite chapters, so be nice in your criticism. J Of course, everyone who has reviewed so far was very encouraging. I realy appreciate the comments that I have the character's emotions right. That's what I'm going for!!! I could kiss you all, but I just ate a sun-dried tomato bagel, and my breath is all spicy. Yum! I am also feeling pretty indecisive about naming the chapters. I think I want to make them just, Chapter One, Chapter Two etc, and I'm even thinking of changing the title and summary. Tell me what I should do! Anywho, please please please enjoy!
Walking back to her quarters Hermione dried her eyes on her robe sleeve. She hadn't expected to fall to pieces in Dumbledore's office like she did, but everything seemed to just crash in at that moment. Today had been an emotional roller coaster ride. From the beginning, she was elated at meeting Snape, then content with him, worried about him, and then frustrated beyond belief at him. When she had finally heard him yell, so victoriously, and known he was happy it had been a huge release.
"Yes, a huge release. These darn tears are flowing like water from a broken damn. Pull yourself together Hermione." Hermione smiled at her own hysterical breakdown, and her thoughts turned once again to Snape. His reaction to her news hadn't been what she expected at all. Sure she'd seen some of Snape's worst breakdowns, and been involved in some of his worst experiences, but she thought this news would make him happy, not mad (in more ways than one). She almost had begun to think her efforts had all been in vain, and that he wouldn't believe her. She had gotten so angry she had almost hexed him. Luckily Dumbledore was in the room when she finally caught up with him, or Severus wouldn't need eyes to tell he was in bad shape.
Severus
Usually she only called him that in her head, for fear he would grow annoyed with her if she called him anything but Professor Snape. But she had let the name slip when she had called to him, when he was running away.
"Like the rust on the razor that threatens the throat." Hermione thought, "Unnecessary insult."* She reminded herself never to slip again.
Snape much subdued himself upon exiting the staircase from Dumbledore's office and entering the main hallway. He felt like running up to everyone around him and screaming that "he could seeeeeee them", but he decided that decorum was called for even in the most emotionally heightened of situations.
"Too bad you didn't think of that when you ran hysterically to Dumbledore a moment ago Severus." Snape shook his head, disgusted by his outburst, but even that thought couldn't wipe the smirk off of his face.
"Hellooooo Severus! You are looking in good spirits this evening!"
Snape jumped at the sound of the squeaky voice coming from about the height of his hip. He had been so distracted, he hadn't heard Flitwick coming.
"I'm… well, Filius."
"Go away!" Snape nervously edged against the wall as Flitwick closed in on him, obviously encouraged by his response.
"Ooo, what a good day today was don't you agree Severus? Miss Granger showing up at the castle and all! Well I hardly expected…"
Snape stood as far away as possible from Flitwick, listening to his squeaky speech with a grimace on his face, which he hardly tried to hide. Of course amid his "Yes, of course"es and his "Indeed"s he hardly thought Flitwick would notice. Snape always expected that he meandered on the edge of happy insanity. He certainly always smiled like it, and it had gotten worse since Dumbledore was defeated.
"No more of this!" Severus straightened his robes with an audible sigh and tried to look as busy as was humanly possible without eyes.
"Filius, if you could just excuse me, I have some pressing business to attend to in my quarters."
"Oh of course!" Before Snape could move out of the way Flitwick came forward and had the nerve to pat Snape's stomach jovially.
"Good night my dear boy!"
Severus stood for a moment, Flitwick's chirping laugh echoing in his ears, before shuddering and straightening his robes compulsively, yet again.
"Yes, very pressing business. Tonight calls for a bath." Snape strode carefully to his quarters, listening for signs of any more Granger-happy staff coming in his direction. Luckily he met none.
Slipping out of his robes and stepping into the steamy bath, Snape groaned and lay back, his hair soaking from the tips upward. Taking off his glasses, he set them beside the bath. Raising his fingertips he tentatively touched the inner rims of his sightless sockets for the first time since that night, when he had reopened the healing flesh and wrote upon the walls with his own blood.
All day the darkness and the cold
Upon my heart have lain,
Like shadows on the winter sky,
Like frost upon the pane.
He knew how he must have looked to Hermione in that moment. Disgusting, monstrous, yet still helpless and pathetic. The thought of looking that way still made him want to spit, but he refrained from doing it in his own bath water. She had had every reason to run, every reason to forget she ever saw him, and to pretend she didn't care. Snape often told himself in the early days of his recovery that she didn't care, that she was just doing it for Dumbledore's sake or approval. But the weeks had worn on, and she hadn't given up on him. Helping him in the war against Voldemort and recording his runes, and seeing the often devastating future. She exalted in his successes because they were also her own, and she had suffered ruination at their failures, especially with Dean Thomas. He had tried to push her away then, because her sadness at Dean's death kept him from keeping his failures unpersonal. She had been confused when he had gained his sixth sense with the help of Arithmacy, but she had celebrated with him nonetheless.
In his madness she stood with him, at the risk of his own safety. He still cursed Madame Pomfrey for allowing such a thing as Hermione visiting him while he was in the delusions of Voldemort. Hermione had always been there for him, whether he wanted her there or not. Even at the end, when he had stumbled from the Malfoy Manor, he had heard her screaming and running to him. It hadn't surprised him, because he knew she would be there.
Lowering his hands from his callused holes, he tried to imagine things in his mind that he wanted to see more than anything. Books of course, and the faces of his students. Ahh, his students, to see the looks of disbelief and dread on their faces once they realized their teacher would be able to identify them by more than their voice. Severus chuckled at the thought, and submerged his head underwater while turning his face into his death glare.
"You haven't lost it Severus, all you are missing are the eyes."
Sitting back up he thought of walking without a cane, seeing the outdoors, the food he was eating, and potions.
Oh, how he missed potions more than anything. It ate at him every day that he couldn't do what he had lived for, for almost his entire life. Potions had been his entire life, but then it had been snatched away, to be replaced by something much more valuable, dangerous, and unpredictable, yet still comfortingly (and annoyingly) familiar.
His thoughts returned to Hermione Granger as he stood up from his bath and wrapped himself in a towel. Shivering in the chilly dungeon air, he felt around for his bathrobe and put it on. He would see her face. He wondered how much she had changed. It amazed him that in the few years he had been blind, he had forgotten color, but her face stood clear in his mind. Crawling in between his silky sheets, he wrapped them around him like a cocoon and fell asleep soundly.
Hermione stood in the abandoned storage room, which held Snape's entire potion making collection. Bottles were meticulously placed on shelves, labeled and ordered by use. Cauldrons on the floor lay bottom up and arranged by size. Books, covered by a thin layer of dust, were piled in the far corner. Hermione knew how it must have killed Snape to put his life away in a side room like this. In this room she felt like she was intruding on something far more private than that which she had intruded on when she found blood on the walls. Hurriedly, but lovingly, Hermione grabbed all the ingredients she hadn't brought with her, along with two cauldrons. If she hurried, she thought running to the Rune Chamber, she could have the potion done by morning.
The next morning the students in the Great Hall were astonished, though not unhappy, to see Professor Snape missing from the staff table, and hear from a confused Professor Flitwick that their Rune Classes would be canceled for a week.
Professor Sinistra steeped her fingers before her, and upon them rested her chin. She eyed the enchanted ceiling in a bored manner as Professor Trelawny's whiny "all-knowing" voice droned on beside her.
"…I always knew his strength would go out. Without his sight, what does the poor man have to live for? Of course, Vox, my spirit guide, informed me of poor Severus's predicament long before…"
Professor McGonagall voice interrupted like the crack of a whip, and Professor Trelawny flinched.
"And, what might that predicament be Sybill?"
Quickly recovering, Trelawny sat up straight in her chair and replied haughtily.
"I cannot tell you Minerva, because I do not think it wise to divulge information the Headmaster Albus has not shared with the rest of the staff." She smirked, not noticing the dozen pairs of eyes rolled in her direction.
"Oh yes, Sybill. I sometimes forget that you don't flaunt your gift of being all-knowing."
Sniffing, Trelawny shot a look at McGonagall, stood, and headed in the direction of her tower. When she was out of earshot Professor Sprout whispered worriedly.
"Oh! She was the first to stand, and there were thirteen at the table. Best that nobody tell her, she would be absolutely distraught!"
Professor Flitwick looked at McGonagall obviously trying not to laugh.
"If Trelawny ends up dead anytime soon, I think we all can be sure of who killed her."
Ignoring Flitwick, McGonagall eyed Dumbledore as he stood at the table and headed towards the exit. Without a word, she stood to follow.
Hermione stirred the cauldron sluggishly. The ache had long since surrendered to numbness in her arms as the third hour of stirring ended. Now, in the final minute, the pain returned full-fledged in spying the end. With a final turn, Hermione released her hand and it flopped to her side, throbbing and twitching. Walking to the other cauldron she eyed the yellow potion inside. Grabbing a nearby flask, Hermione measured out the amount she needed and returned to the cauldron she had just finished stirring. This cauldron's potion had turned a swirling silver-blue within the last hour of stirring, and when she added the yellow potion it became a misty green, with fuchsia sparks dancing on the surface. She was now finished with the potion. The tissue healing properties of one potion, combined with the light processing properties of the other combined to form Hermione's potion, which she had named Merce Mercedis Potion, or the Recompense Potion.
Slumping to the floor, she rested her head to her strong hand and closed her eyes for a moment. She sprang to her feet and walked quickly to the door as she heard footsteps from outside. Looking out, she saw Dumbledore coming down the hall, followed by a tip-toeing McGonagall.
"Hello Miss Granger! Has Severus yet arrived?"
"Hello Professor Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall!" (McGonagall froze) "No he hasn't yet. Come in!"
Hermione turned and headed back to her cauldron as Dumbledore stepped aside to let a sheepish McGonagall pass as he patted her on the shoulder.
"No questions my dear. Just watch."
McGonagall nodded and, inside the room, went to stand in the corner.
"What ingredients did you use?"
Hermione handed Dumbledore a paper.
"Mostly unassuming. Unicorn horn powder, hartz essence, sliced alwa root…"
Dumbledore nodded, but suddenly looked up from the list with sad eyes.
"Your Source."
From the corner McGonagall gasped.
"Hermione! You are only given one Source at birth. Once it is used, you will never have it again. Your body will never be able to heal without magic! Your heart will cease beating when it is broken and…"
"Professor McGonagall! I am sure that Hermione knows the gravity of her sacrifice, as do I. But the potion is finished, her Source already extracted. There is nothing you can do. Life without a Source is more difficult, of course, but not painful. All that it requires is that she lives carefully and under the protection of magic."
McGonagall cried silently in the corner as Hermione spoke up.
"Professor, it's will be OK. I know what has been done, and I know that my cure will be useless without a willingly given Source. It is almost impossible to ask another for theirs, so I took my own."
McGonagall sniffled and looked at Hermione.
"Cure?"
"Yes," Hermione replied gently, "for Professor Snape."
McGonagall gave another shallow gasp at this, but then wiped her eyes on a handkerchief given her to by Dumbledore, and quieted notably.
"Please don't tell him."
Both Dumbledore and McGonagall nodded, and they all sat in silence for less than a minute before Snape arrived.
Snape sat in the chair and tipped his head back as the potion slid down his throat. He released his breath in relief that wasn't lying poisoned and convulsing on the ground. He listened to Hermione as she told him what she was doing.
"I'm now going to do the transfiguration part of the cure. Basically, it's purpose is to activate the potion and to guide the growing tissue to become what we want it to, in this case eyes, and nerve endings. I shouldn't need to tell you not to move, because I'm sure you know the dangers of combining magics."
Snape clenched and unclenched his fingers. He knew McGonagall was probably itching to speak up right about now, and he was glad she didn't. Amid his own doubts and fears he couldn't help thinking Hermione sounded tired. He fought the urge to reach out and grab her hand.
Hermione removed his glasses to reveal the heavily scarred white, pink, and red tissue below. What would have disgusted her before didn't affect her in the slightest now accept to remind her of the extreme level of concentration she would need to heal it.
Snape heard Hermione take a deep shuddering breath, and then begin to mutter strange, unknown spells under her breath. Some words he recognized and others he didn't. He would have been thoroughly impressed, if it hadn't been for the sudden pinch inside his head. I started like the tips of someone's nails grasping his skin, biting and small, but grew to the feeling of and entire hand firmly holding his head, reaching from the inside out. Then came a buzzing feeling, and he felt the whoosh of magic swirling in front of his face. He shivered as he felt the scabs inside his eye sockets dissolving away and then it felt as a thick mold were growing from the back of the sockets, inching along the inner walls, and finally veiling in the front into eyelids which sealed closed. Next he felt as if tiny balls of rubber were bouncing painfully inside the sealed holes, growing bigger and bigger till they could only vibrate, and then finally big enough so they couldn't do anything but swivel around in his head. They slowly came to a stop, and he felt with a jolt, like a staple, the optic nerve connecting itself.
Snape's head jumped involuntarily as electric impulses, long foreign to his brain, were rediscovered. Hermione's voice, which had risen volume steadily since she had started, was now positively yelling. With a hiss, the magical string keeping his eyelids closed unthreaded itself, and with a crack, the magic surrounding his entire head concentrated and hit his eyes like a bolt of lightning, slamming his head against the back of the chair.
All was quiet except for a loud thud, and then all was quiet again. Snape's breathing was heavy and it took him a couple minutes to calm himself down.
"Severus?" Dumbledore's voice echoed in the silent room.
"Yes…" Snape whispered.
"Are you going to open you eyes?"
His eyes. He had eyes.
His heart rate sped up again at the realization that he couldn't sit with his lids closed, in the chair, in dead quiet forever. Taking a final deep breath he squinted his eyes and was met with a bright pain in his head from the light that squeezed through the tiny crack.
Light!
Opening his eyes just a little again, Snape shaded his them from the light of the torches of the wall and opened them wider.
Slowly, the images that looked as if he was seeing them through water cleared, and he saw…
saw
…Dumbledore leaning over him, smiling a large smile. There was another quiet moment until Snape heard a choking noise. He turned his head to see…
see
…McGonagall, staring at him from the corner. McGonagall met his eyes for a moment before looking away. She gasped at something, and then hurried to the right of Snape's chair, bending down. Snape looked…
looked
…to where McGonagall was bending over and saw McGonagall gently tapping the side of a sprawled woman's face. The woman's long hair was spread out around her head, like a fluffy pillow, and her face was haggard with exhaustion. Snape realized who this woman must be.
Hermione
Without a word he stood, much to the protest of both Dumbledore and McGonagall.
"You really must rest!"
"Yes, yes I agree Severus. This has been quite a day."
Snape leaned down and picked up Hermione, who was small and limp.
"I can see. I'll take her to her rooms Albus."
This statement was one with which neither could argue, and Snape knew it. He walked out of the Rune Chamber, and down the hall where he knew her rooms to be. He was so distracted by the stone walls, and the sight of drops of water cascading down them that he almost missed her door. When he arrived, he opened his mouth to speak the password, but then changed his mind. He had a better idea.
As Snape made his way through the castle's empty passageways ("The students must be in class.") and to his garden, he struggled to keep his eyes to the floor. He wanted to save his sight for something worthwhile. He wanted to see the outdoors from his garden, not through a window. As he reached the door to outside, he nearly kicked it open in anticipation.
The wind whipped both his and Hermione's hair as he stepped out into the garden. He looked at the endless gray sky and remembered gray, and he looked at the brown of the plants and remembered brown. He smirked with pride at the sight of the only green plants in the garden, knowing they must be his Glacias. He moved to the bench and sat down. Hermione stirred in his lap, burying her face in his robes, obviously now more asleep than unconscious. He studied the wonders, the miracles, around him and remembered the times he had spent in the garden with Hermione.
He noticed that the memories became clearer when he grabbed her hand. He supposed his mind had grown accustomed to using other senses to recall memories. His idea was strengthened as he took a deep breath of the crisp air and inhaled the intoxicating scent of mangoes. She was so close to him that the smell was almost overpowering. Taking his slightly shaking hand, he ran it through Hermione's hair.
She was so pretty. Since the last time he had seen he she had gotten taller, and her hair had been cut a bit shorter. He noticed how even thought she had filled out, she still had an underfed appearance, and her skin was very pale. Her lips stood out like a beacon on her face, their red color making the skin around them look even more pallid.
Snape sat like this, on the bench with Hermione, and watched, for hours. As Hermione slept Snape got excited at seeing birds fly by, fluttering leaves, and students on their way to Care of Magical Creatures class. He watched the sun set, and saw colors he hadn't yet seen since he had regained his sight. He had looked at his arm and saw that he no longer had the Dark Mark. He felt more free than he had ever been.
As the last rays of sun disappeared behind the horizon he stood up. Rolling his shoulders and yawning, he almost dropped Hermione when she stirred. Quickly he sat down again and watched as she opened her warm brown eyes. Their eyes locked for the first time in almost three* years as Hermione put her arm around his neck and raised herself into a stiff sitting position. He watched her as she stood and quickly rose with her as she swayed on her feet. He looked into her eyes again, and this time her cheeks were stained with tears.
"I thought it might not work. I was so worried that I failed…"
Snape pushed away the sarcastic remark dying to escape and forced himself to listen.
"…or that maybe you would push me away and not want a cure. I was so upset when you said you didn't believe me. I thought I'd spent a year of my life on nothing."
"Miss Granger." Snape whispered in his silky voice, as Hermione continued on. He winced slightly and said a bit more loudly "Hermione!" and grabbed each of her shoulders.
Hermione hiccuped a final time before falling silent. Snape continued.
"If you think I'd let you waste a year of your life on nothing, you are much mistaken."
Hermione rubbed her cheeks with the back of her hand, smearing her tears.
"Not waste… never waste."
In that moment, with the soft orange glow of the sunless sky glinting on her skin, her eyes sparkling with tears, and her messy hair stuck to her moist cheeks, Snape knew that she was the most important thing he had seen that day.
Leaning forward, he lowered his lips and very softly brushed hers with his own. His nervousness at kissing anyone knew no bounds. Conflicting emotions inside of him crashed around like rampaging hippogriffs. On one side he felt unstoppable with his sight regained, but on the other side, his old trust issues were rearing their ugly heads. It took all his might not to back away and yell about taking away points, but he didn't and a second later he was rewarded when she didn't pull away.
Hermione hadn't expected his kiss at all. Technically it was the second time he had kissed her. The first being when he was mad, and it hadn't been gentle and earnest, and now this. She pushed away the first and accepted this as the first time he had really kissed her. She didn't pull away.
Their light kiss ended and they both pulled back gently an inch. A warm pocket of air hung between their parted lips. Sitting down again they looked at the sky. Not holding hands, or cuddling, just together. Neither of them were ready to go back to the castle.
Author's Note: The first asterisk refers to a line I borrowed from Maya Angelou's I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings. It's the line about the rust on the razor being an unnecessary insult. The second asterisk refers to me apologizing if the three year reference isn't correct! Also, I don't want this fic to get fluffy, so I had misgivings about the kiss. I'm really sorry if all of you are out there, sighing in exasperation right now.