A/N Thanks to everyone who's reviewed… what started out as an idea and a lot of angst has turned into an actual story, but I feel like it's writing me, instead of the other way around.  What'll happen next?  And yes, I do know what Snape's problem is, but I think I'll drop hints for a couple of chapters instead of actually spelling it out.  First to guess correctly gets… a congratulatory email?  No, better yet, a choice between the angsty ending I've been planning and the equally possible happy ending.  Enjoy!

Snape was carrying her somewhere, she realised through the fog that seemed to be occupying her brain.  Why was he doing that?  She would be fine.  She only needed time.  Just half an hour, and she would be able to shove the pain away, to construct the mask that hid her from the rest of the world.  She could have fixed her robes with magic, she could have concealed the damage, and she could have been once again the bossy, studious Hermione Granger that everyone knew so well.  But he was taking her somewhere, and she had no time to heal.  Did he want what Malfoy had wanted?  But he had said no on the rooftop.  Hadn't he?  Or was she seeing things again?  What was real and what was unreal merged in her head.  She was just so tired…

Something was being put to her lips.  She drank reflexively as the liquid touched her mouth, and the taste itself was foul enough to wake her.  Why did medicinal potions always taste so bad?  But the fog was clearing, and her brain felt less like cotton wool.  Suddenly she noticed just how cold she was, and the pain that had been numbed by shock and exhaustion came back in a rush, the aching pain that was always plaguing her and new, fresh, sharp, shooting pains in her arms, her leg, her stomach, everywhere. 

"Good," Snape said softly.  "And now this, I think."  He pressed a cup to her lips once more. 

She ignored it and looked up at him, suddenly aware of her surroundings.  "Professor Snape," she said.

"Yes.  Your ability to state the obvious in undiminished," he told her wryly, but his voice did not hold its usual sting.  He looked as tired as she felt.  What did he want with her?  "Now drink."

Hermione obediently did so, and the pain lessened somewhat.  Or it didn't lessen, but it wasn't so important.  She could cope with it now, whereas before it had been unbearable. 

"That is the shock and the pain dealt with.  You shall have a third potion before you sleep tonight, which ought to heal all abrasions.  You have no broken bones?"

"No… not this time," she replied, unthinkingly.  Then she tensed up.  He now knew that she had received broken bones before.  Did he know about Malfoy?  About her father?  Would he, too, blackmail her?  Or would he take the information to Dumbledore?  But then Dumbledore would expel Malfoy and Malfoy would tell his father and he would kill her mother and everything would have been lost and her mother would be dead and all of this would have been in vain and…

Snape took one look at her face and slapped her.  "You were getting hysterical," he informed her.  Then his face softened a little.  "I should not be adding more emotional trauma to that which you already have.  Perhaps we should talk in the morning?  I can give you a sleeping draught now."

Hermione nodded gratefully.  She needed a break.  And time to decide exactly what to tell Professor Snape. – or what he would want in order to keep his silence.   Her mask was firmly back in place once more.  As long as she did not dwell on the memories, she would be fine.  Then he was steering her to a guest room and giving her another potion.  She drank it all without hesitating.  If only it were poison…