Cloak of Courage Chapter 6, a harry potter fanfic

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. See Chapter 1 for full disclaimer. Author's Notes at the end.
Warning: This fic is SS/HG and includes character death, descriptions of abuse, and adult situations.

Cloak of Courage
WendyNat

Chapter 6

~~~~~~~

Meddling old fool, Snape fumed, his robes whipping around him as he strode down the dungeon stairs to his personal chambers. It was well after curfew, so the halls were blissfully empty of students. When he reached the door to his – their – chambers, he paused for a moment to get his irritation under control. And, as he calmed down, he began to think over Albus' words.

Perhaps Albus had a point… Miss Granger had studied a number of mediwizardry spells for a special project in her sixth year… and it would be infinitely preferable for Miss Granger to tend his wound than subject himself to the nattering of Madam Pomfrey, who - though quite skilled - was infamous for treating everyone in her care as a wayward child. And from personal experience, he knew just how awkward healing a body part that wasn't readily accessible – or visible – could be. Most of the slice had occurred on the back part of his shoulder.

Shaking his head resolutely, he snorted at himself and raised his wand to lower the wards. He had healed his own injuries countless times before, many far more serious than a simple slicing hex. There was no need to… he stopped suddenly when another thought occurred to him. The Dark Lord would likely call him back soon to check on his… progress. A few more images to feed the suspicious wizard would be valuable... he needed to prove that his plan was moving forward steadily… yes, perhaps Albus did have a point, after all.

He entered the chambers, kicking off his boots in the entrance hall before making his way into the study where he was not surprised to see Hermione – this time seated at his desk – reading a textbook. She looked up when she heard him enter and the intense relief in her face took him aback. "You're back!"

"A most astute observation," he said dryly, the pain in his shoulder sharpening as the rest of his body relaxed in the comfortable surroundings of his own chambers. To his astonishment, she didn't comment on his sarcastic remark – instead she rose from the desk and trailed behind him quietly as he made his way to the bedroom.

"Is that your blood?" she asked in a whisper as he stood at the wardrobe. He turned to look at her, noticing the lines of tension in her face, and nodded.

"Perhaps you would be so kind as to assist me with this small gift from Lucius," Snape said, removing his outer robe carefully. Blood had seeped through the layers of cloth and dried, making the removal tedious. Each successive layer would likely be increasingly difficult to remove without causing further damage. "After all, I did receive it defending your honor, Miss Granger," he said sardonically, one eyebrow raised as he caught her eye.

"Hermione," she corrected absently, walking up to him to get a better look at his shoulder. "Hmm. We'll have to be careful removing the other layers – slicing hex?" Snape simply nodded in response. "Come on – it'll be easier to do this in the bathroom."

They moved into the adjoining room, where she urged him to sit in front of the mirror. He complied without objection, and he could see her reflection frowning slightly as she looked at the blood-crusted coat. "Defending my honor, you said?"

"Indeed. Lucius had the idea that Draco would be a better person to twist your loyalties, so to speak."

"Oh, really," Hermione said, not looking up from her perusal.

"Yes," Severus drawled. "Of course, I was forced to point out that not only does the boy have the subtlety and manipulative ability of Grawp, he is also too far your intellectual inferior to even make the attempt."

She smiled at that. "Why, I do believe that was a compliment."

"Don't become too accustomed to it, Miss Granger," he said with a small sneer.

A furrow appeared between her brows and she looked up, her gaze meeting his in the mirror. Ah – that angered her, he thought with amusement. In an irritated voice, she declared, "Soon enough it'll be Mrs. Snape – so don't you think you'd better get out of the habit of calling me Miss Granger, Severus?" He was pleased… anger was easily twisted into other emotions, as he well knew. Time to put her off-balance.

"Yes," he said softly, turning to look into her eyes with calculated intensity.

He smiled inwardly when she flushed and stammered, "Well, um… well, maybe you should… unbutton your coat…" With a small nod, he began to peel off his coat, frowning in irritation as the fabric stuck to the bloodied shirt underneath. Damn Lucius and his worthless spawn, he thought savagely.

She reached over quickly to assist him in separating the two layers. "The final layer will likely cause the most trouble," she said in a low voice, almost as if speaking to herself.

"I am well aware of that, Miss- Hermione."

She frowned. "Right. Listen, I talk while I work, so either handle this yourself or keep the sarcasm to a minimum, all right?" She paused a moment before adding, "Severus." Her brown eyes flashed as she looked at him.

He looked at her silently for a moment, contemplating his answer, before giving her a smirk. "And as I make sarcastic remarks when I'm in pain, Hermione, it appears we may be at an impasse."

To his amazement, she began to laugh. "Point taken. I'll ignore your sarcastic wit if you can ignore my running commentary. But, just a warning - I'll be none too gentle if you get out of line."

He raised an eyebrow at this, a small smile coming to his lips. He was pleased with her response. Very few people appreciated his subtle sense of humor, and fewer still felt at ease enough to banter with him. Perhaps sharing his accommodations with her wouldn't be as tiresome as he'd originally anticipated.

"All right, then, this is likely to hurt a bit, until we get the shirt detached… and then it ought to be clean sailing, so to speak… although I suppose the cleaning bit may smart some… but I imagine you're used to worse pain than that," she murmured under her breath as she pulled his coat the rest of the way off. Her running commentary was annoying, but at least the volume was low. His fingers rose to unbutton his shirt, and she busied herself with folding his coat and carefully laying it on the bench, unable to keep a dark flush from overtaking her features.

He watched the involuntary response with interest. So, perhaps the image he saw that morning wasn't just a fluke… she was attracted to him. Although he wasn't a conventionally attractive man, he was aware that he had… what was it that Rodolphus and Lucius called it? Sex appeal?

He didn't quite understand it, but the effects had been evident as he matured and women began to approach him. Not generally younger women – he had rarely had issues with student crushes, as some of the other young teachers did - but older, more experienced women… he smirked as he finished undoing the buttons down the front of his shirt. He could still remember the first time a woman turned down Malfoy to approach him… he, of the hooked nose and pale skin… she had been most fascinated by his voice, as he recalled. The woman had been beautiful.

Lucius had been furious.

There had been more after that – many more. Women attracted to dark, brooding men… dangerous men… Snape eyed his reflection critically. No, definitely not handsome – but certainly dark and brooding. As a fledgling Death Eater he had been assigned to Lucius Malfoy, who committed himself to showing the younger man the many virtues of being part of their ranks. After meetings, the blond wizard had taken him to a number of establishments that were frequented by such women – most in Knockturn Alley or similar venues.

Strangely enough, Lucius – perhaps the most dangerous, evil man Severus knew besides the Dark Lord himself – did not easily attract those types of women. The strikingly handsome man had no difficulties attracting women in general, of course… but the women that liked to flirt with the darker side, those that were more open to… experimentation… constantly overlooked the man because of his pretty face. Looks truly can be deceiving, Snape mused. It had caused him no end of amusement over the years that women seeking out darkness and danger found him appealing while Lucius, with his angelic good looks, was passed over.

Smiling inwardly at his thoughts, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and extracted his uninjured arm before turning to Hermione. She was still flushing – partially from embarrassment this time, perhaps, as she undoubtedly recalled the images he had seen that morning in her mind.

No, he mused, he certainly hadn't expected to have that effect on Miss Granger, young as she was. Innocent as she was.

Innocent? He frowned slightly, studying the girl as she began to pull the thin cloth of his shirt gingerly away from the wound. It was attached rather firmly, particularly along the bottom of the wound. As she slowly peeled the shirt away, blood welled up once more from the wound and he saw her face go pale. She paused for a moment, then her eyes hardened and she continued.

Overtaken by memory, most likely, he reflected, examining the girl. No, not quite innocent – what innocent woman would decide to avenge her loved ones' deaths by studying the Dark Arts… what innocent woman would agree to marry him, knowing his past? Not that she had had much choice, he acknowledged silently, looking down at his hands.

Knowing his past… he flicked his eyes back up to stare at the young woman standing beside him, a frown of concentration on her face as she finally freed his shirt and pushed it off completely, studying the wound with a critical eye. She knew more of his past than anyone other than Albus Dumbledore. He still was surprised at how much he had told Hermione that night – had it really been only yesterday evening? - but she had reminded him so much of himself at her age - so much anger, the burning need for revenge… pain and fury emanating from her in waves… it would devour her, if she let it. The Call of the Blood… no, he couldn't stand to see that happen.

Far better for her to die, first... than to follow the path that I took, he thought.

She ran some water on a flannel and began to clean the wound, once again muttering a running commentary as she concentrated. "Any large pieces of foreign substances in the open tissue will cause problems during healing…" That sounded like a quote from a textbook. The girl had an amazing memory capacity. "I'm sure there must be some pieces of your shirt and coat in here… I was right, here's one…"

Snape stared at her in the mirror, watching the candlelight glinting in her hair, lost in thought. In one week, this young woman would be his wife. Now that he had time to think about it… he was unsure how he felt. It was necessity, an obligation, an abstract idea. However, soon that abstract idea would become a harsh reality - tangible, true. Unavoidable. Eyeing the swell of her hips as she moved around him, he couldn't claim to be completely averse to the idea.

He winced slightly as she scrubbed harder than strictly necessary at the slice. She was doubtless still irked at him for his invasion earlier that day. Since he had discovered her… attraction… that morning, he had not been able to push the thought entirely from his head. Whenever the thought had risen, unbidden, to the forefront of his mind, he had had to remind himself that she was an innocent, still – at least in that regard – and unlikely to be open to his… truer… desires.

He sighed inwardly. He would have to hold back if this fiasco was to fool the Dark Lord. When the powerful wizard delved into her mind – and he most definitely would - she could not seem in any way reluctant concerning her husband – her manipulator. She had to trust him implicitly. He blew out a breath, ignoring the odd look she gave him before she turned her attention back to her task. If the Dark Lord was not fooled… it would mean both of their deaths.

It would take work. Unfortunately, the girl was very much a Gryffindor – her emotions so evident, so strong… and he had no faith in her ability to hide them, even with training. While Snape did plan to work with her on her Occlumency skills, the ability to hide emotions was much more difficult than the ability to hide images. No, he realized with a jolt - the safest path would be to manipulate her emotions in truth. His brow furrowed slightly. If she were to fall in love with him…

His mouth twisted at the thought. Fondness, at least, would be enough. But if there were stronger emotions involved… if the Dark Lord believed her to be loyal to Severus Snape without question… then even if the powerful wizard sensed her true feelings concerning the Death Eaters and their cause, it would be tolerable. Perhaps even more than tolerable – there was a certain elegance in twisting someone's mind so that their actions actually benefited those they hated. Yes, he thought, that would definitely appeal to the Dark Lord.

Hermione was still muttering under her breath as she pulled out another scrap of fabric, frowning ferociously. So strong-minded… no, it wouldn't be easy. Although… thinking back to what he had seen that morning in her mind… perhaps it wouldn't be an overly difficult manipulation. The young often connected emotional intimacy with physical intimacy. And while he wasn't very experienced with the former, he was quite skilled in the latter.

Yes, he decided, watching as she finally finished cleaning his wound and lifted her wand to seal it, I can definitely use that to my advantage. It would be rather easy, actually, with someone of her relative innocence level… and it would certainly be safer, for all involved, than trusting her ability to hide her emotions from one of the greatest Legilimens of all time. No time like now to begin, he thought as she finished tending his shoulder and moved back in front of him.

"Thank you," he said in a low, silky voice, flexing the newly healed shoulder. He noted with interest that her breathing increased, and he couldn't keep his lips from curving into a small smile. No, this won't be too difficult at all. He touched her cheek gently, this time allowing his fingers to linger and trail softly downwards to her jawline before he pulled his hand away.

She averted her eyes from his intense gaze and said, "You're welcome." He nodded and rotated his shoulder fully, working some of the tautness out of the muscle. Newly repaired muscle fibers were often stiff at first, as he knew from vast experience. "Um – do you need anything else? I should… I should probably get back to my studying."

Not wanting to push too far now, especially while she was still a student, he decided to leave it at that, nodding his agreement. She closed the door behind her when she left the room, and he stared at the paneled wood.

A student.

Not quite a student any longer, but also not quite graduated. Her NEWTs would be in just days, and then he could begin his manipulations in earnest.

He sighed, standing from the stool and turning on the shower with a flick of his wand. His manipulations… he well knew his skills in that regard; he had honed them carefully over the years, with many willing and enthusiastic teachers. Not all of his knowledge from being a Death Eater was dark... or forbidden. Malfoy… he repressed a shudder as he stepped under the warm spray, allowing it to run over his head and down his neck. Severus had always preferred willing partners, whereas Malfoy… that man's barbarous desires could turn the stomach of even the most calloused Death Eater.

Maybe even the Dark Lord himself.

He shook his head, then, pushing the images – the memories - from his mind. Thank goodness the girl had given up that ridiculous notion of accepting Malfoy's proposal. He still couldn't believe she had had the gall to suggest spying on the man… she would have been brutalized beyond her ability to comprehend. Her mind was far too valuable to lose to such atrocities.

He sighed irritably, working his shoulder muscle. No, the Malfoys had no finesse.

* * * * * *

Hermione sat at the corner desk, trying to keep her mind on the text in front of her and off of the man in the other room. Finally, she sighed and closed the textbook, throwing her quill to the desk in defeat.

Snape was a true enigma. As snarky and snarly as ever one moment, then teasing with her the next moment… then looking at her like some sort of puzzle he had to solve… when he looked at her with that strangely calculating gaze she had the uncomfortable feeling he was planning something, but she didn't know what. And she wasn't likely to know, unless he decided to tell her, she realized with a sigh. She was intelligent and rather good at figuring things out, but Snape… well, he had been involved in spying and intrigue since before she was even born.

Since before she was even born.

It hit her, then, just what she was about to do... aside from the fact that he was – most of the time - a cold, calculating, unpleasant person – he was also twenty years her senior… twice her age. She shook her head in disbelief. Although the wizarding community looked on age differences in a much different way than Muggles – taking into account the longer life span of wizards and witches, a twenty year difference wasn't even worth mentioning – she was raised as a Muggle, and her initial reaction to most things was still Muggle. With a humorless laugh, she thought, At least he's younger than my dad is… was…Oh, Gods. Again, she felt tears spring to her eyes and she angrily squeezed her lids shut, willing them away.

Her mind frantically snatched hold of her previous thread of thought. So he was twenty years her senior… Dumbledore was over 150 years old, and he was still full of energy. He showed more agility than her uncle, who was only in his sixties. So, really, Snape was still a young man in wizarding circles. And certainly, she acknowledged with a speculative smile, his body was that of a younger man – barring the numerous scars on the pale skin. She wondered for a moment about them – some were obviously curse scars which hadn't been healed correctly, but others looked like ceremonial cuts of some sort… blood magic, maybe? She had done some reading in the Dark Arts texts that Viktor had sent her – not that she would admit that to Snape, after his warnings the previous evening. Snape. Professor Snape. When she had pulled his shirt off…

She remembered how the warmth had drained from her face when she peeled his shirt away from the gash, breaking open the wound. Thick, dark blood had welled up, stark against pale skin… she shivered convulsively at the image still emblazoned in her mind. It had sparked her memory of the night in the Forbidden Forest with Harry… finding Ron… seeing him, as he lay there… the blood… there had been so much… They will pay. I will make them pay.

Her hands shook as she brought them to her face, pressing them to her eyes. Would she ever rid herself of the memory? It seemed to seep to the top layer of her brain whenever she was silent, whenever she wasn't distracted by something else. And at night… the nights were the worst…

Except the night before, she admitted silently, letting her hands drop. What had been the difference? What had kept the dreams at bay? Was it… could it have been… Professor Snape's presence? The presence of someone else who understood, someone else who had been through what she had, someone else who had faced the same decision, been tempted by the very thing that she had been tempted by?

Each step seems but a small one. His words echoed in her mind. Questions rose from it… when she had read those texts Viktor had sent… was that the first step? Each time she looked farther into the books, each time she committed a spell to memory, were those all individual steps? Or part of one, larger step, drawing her inexorably into the pit? Despite Snape's warnings, her fingers itched to delve back into the forbidding books… to pull out the tomes from the trunk she had stowed them in… to learn, to know her enemy…

They will pay. I will make them pay.

Suddenly she stopped, a cold shot of fear going through her as she realized that she was unconsciously walking to where the trunk sat in the bedroom... it was as if she were being called…

Oh, Gods… what have I gotten into?

Shaking, she sat on the edge of the bed, noticing that the cot that Snape – Severus – had transfigured was still pushed up against the opposite side of the bed. She hoped, fervently, that he would stay there again… she needed sleep so badly… and, a small voice inside her admitted, she was frightened. Hermione Granger, frightened of books – how Ron would laugh…

She wasn't quite sure how long she sat there, but after a time she pulled herself together and changed into what her mother had called her "company pajamas." She smiled sadly at the thought. I doubt this is the situation Mum had in mind when we bought them, she thought, looking down at the red and gold patterned silk set. At least it was reasonably modest – a short-sleeved top with matching bottoms. She normally slept in just her knickers and an oversized t-shirt, but she wasn't quite ready to parade around half-dressed in her Professor's – her fiancé's - rooms. Although, if he wanted to… she certainly wouldn't object to that, she acknowledged with a wicked grin.

She heard the shower turn off and quickly returned to the study, curling up in one of the armchairs by the fire. She felt like she was forgetting something, but she couldn't think what- Oh, that's right, she realized, jumping up and going to her bag, rummaging through the odds and ends before finally finding what she had been searching for.

"Tea, Hermione?" a voice behind her asked, causing her to jump in surprise.

"Oh, oh – yes, thank you," she said, turning around and coming face to face with her future husband. Oh, my…She felt her cheeks getting red again as she took in his form – loose black trousers, of some sort of soft material, and an open dressing robe… also black…

When she had worked on his shoulder, she had tried to keep her mind firmly on what she was doing, losing herself in the task… but now, with no distractions… Gods… tall, slender, defined… You're worse than a teenage boy around a veela, Hermione, she admonished herself, struggling to bring her eyes back to his face. Maybe he hadn't noticed… Too late, she realized, seeing him suppress a smirk.

Oh, my.

"What is that?" he asked, indicating the object in her hand as he tied the dressing robe shut. She suppressed a sigh of disappointment at the act.

"Just my pills, Professor um, Severus," she said. When she saw him raise one eyebrow in amusement, she admitted, "All right – seven years of habit is hard to break."

"Indeed," he commented with a smirk. Moving to the small table in the middle of the room, he poured two cups of tea. "Perhaps you'll keep that in mind the next time I slip and call you Miss Granger."

She grinned, accepting the cup he handed her and settling herself into one of the armchairs. "Perhaps. But I think it's a do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do type of thing, Severus. You won't get off that easily."

"Hmm, likely," he murmured noncommittally, sitting across from her and taking a sip of his tea. "What are those… pills? Muggle medication of some sort?" he asked, sneering. For some reason, she was heartened by this more familiar demeanor of her Potions Master. Professor Snape without his sneers and snaps just wasn't… well, Professor Snape. She relaxed back in the chair and nodded.

"Birth control pills, actually, Severus," she said, popping one in her mouth and taking a sip of the tea to help her wash it down.

"Ah." He looked slightly uncomfortable and gave her a questioning look before averting his eyes.

Suddenly she realized his confusion and began to laugh. He scowled at her darkly until she was able to choke, "No, no – you think… I don't... I mean…" As his scowl deepened she controlled herself with an effort and told him, "They - they have to be taken every day, no matter if you… er… need them that particular day or not. The daily dose maintains a constant supply of hormones in a woman's body, preventing ovulation."

Snape's face cleared and he nodded. "I see. It seems a bit inconvenient – why don't you just use the potion?" The most common potion was only ingested once a month.

She looked at him strangely before answering. "Severus – have you even read through the Marriage Law?"

"The pertinent sections. I didn't quite have time to peruse it in detail, as it did not apply to me directly until recently. You realize that Dumbledore did not… inform… me of his back-up plan until after Mr. Weasley was found," he said. "I had assumed, prior to… well. Before I became suspicious of your intentions, I assumed you would be sent to Beauxbatons, as I told you this morning."

"What… what made you suspicious?" she asked, her eyes on her cup. She thought she had been careful…

He put his cup down sharply on the table and she sat up straight, watching him worriedly. He stated flatly, "I am not willing to discuss that with you at this time." They stared at each other a moment in silence, the tension thick. Then, in a more moderate tone, he said, "Now – you were about to tell me of a clause I missed in this damnable Marriage Law?"

She swallowed hard. "Y-yes. The clause… no magical forms of birth control may be used – potions, charms – they can all be detected by their magical signatures. A long-term detection charm is included in the spells cast during the ceremony. I tested it, though, and the charm can't detect Muggle contraceptives. These pills just increase the amounts of natural hormones in a woman's body, nothing foreign is introduced. Mum… Mum thought of it, when the law was first proposed." She looked down at her hands. Her parents… they had been so supportive… It's just a what-if, honey… I know you want to continue your schooling and with a baby… well, it's not impossible, but it's not easy. Even if the law doesn't go through, or if we move, it's not a bad idea… well, I'll go ahead and pick you up a big supply…

"Your mother was a wise woman," Severus said in a gentle voice. She looked up at him, surprised at his tone… it was the same one he had used in his office the night before, when she had asked what was going to happen to her. It will be well, Miss Granger. Hermione. It will be well.

He was watching her neutrally. When she nodded and gave him a small smile, he sat back and stared into the fireplace. She watched with interest as his robe fell open slightly, exposing a few more inches of skin… including one clean scar line stretching diagonally over his breastbone. She had barely noticed it earlier, but now the flickering light and shadow created by the flames brought it into sharper definition. Without looking away from the fire, he asked, "Are there any other little… surprise charms… that will be cast during the ceremony?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "Well… a Fidelity charm, of course…"

He nodded. "That makes sense, giving what they hope to achieve with this farce of a law."

She had spent a few minutes that afternoon looking over the law, and a flush rose to her cheeks as she contemplated the most significant charm – in her mind – that would be cast. "And… well… there's a… a copulation charm… it's based on time…" Her voice trailed off.

Snape didn't move his eyes from the flames as he said in a dry voice, "I was aware of that particular charm, Miss – Hermione." He glanced at her then, his eyes narrowed. "What is the interval requirement?"

She averted her eyes for a moment, her throat suddenly dry. "Um… weekly. Well – it actually says three out of every four weeks… I guess to give time for…" She looked back at him and shrugged weakly. I canNOT believe I'm discussing this with Professor Snape like it's some sort of…of… research project requirement…

"Mmm. Yes," he drawled, his eyes glinting mischievously. "As I recall, some foolish men find that time… distasteful… for certain activities."

She didn't know why she asked the question, but it burst out of her before she could stop it. "You don't?" When he looked at her, eyebrow raised in inquiry, she stammered, "Find – find it distasteful, I mean."

He eyed her levelly for a moment before saying simply, "No." His lips twitched when her mouth fell open in surprise. Then he shook his head, a pensive look on his face. "Hermione – you are still very young. There will likely be many things that will surprise you about me. And vice-versa, of course."

"I… I guess you're right."

He watched her for a moment, black eyes thoughtful, before he drained his teacup. "Well, Hermione – it has been a rather… eventful day. I believe I will retire."

They both stood. After a moment of indecision, she asked, "Um… Severus… are you – I mean, are the… the sleeping arrangements going to be the same tonight? As they were last night, I mean."

He fixed her with a calculating gaze before nodding abruptly. "Yes. I believe it is the most… efficient… arrangement, for the time being. Until after our… marriage, of course."

"Good," she breathed, and he looked at her, startled. She flushed as she realized the implications. "I mean – I'm just glad you weren't planning on sleeping on the couch here, or something like that…"

"Hmm. I have heard of wives demanding that at times – rest assured, Hermione – I will never sleep on the couch," he said in a silky voice, his black eyes shining with suppressed amusement.

She smiled at his statement. "That's not what I meant." In a more serious voice, she continued, "It was – well, last night was the first time… in a long while, really, that I slept."

"I understand, Hermione," Snape said. Again, that strangely calculating look. He held out his hand. "Come." She went.

A short time later, she lay in the bed on her side, watching as he threw off the dressing robe and slid onto the cot. Her eyelids grew heavy even before he whispered, "Nox."

She was asleep only moments when she felt herself whimpering as the dark images flooded her mind… the memories… "No… no, not Mum… Daddy…" Images broiled in her mind… the Daily Prophet's front-page story showing the Dark Mark over her parents' house… Ron, his body broken, bleeding, so much blood… Hermione, don't look! No, don't look! She shook her head, gasping as she partially woke, still disoriented, her heart pounding in her chest…

…then a warmth… a hand resting on her shoulder… she grasped at it like a lifeline, pulling it to her, wrapping her fingers around it, holding it close… soft words came to her ears as she fell gratefully into the now calm, relaxing darkness, "I'm here, Hermione… I'm here…"

* * * * * *

The next morning, Snape woke first.

He lay for a time, studying the young woman who still had a death-grip on his hand. She had pulled it to her chest as she slept, and it rose and fell with each breath. He sighed, lost in thought.

Despite Albus' words, he felt it too great a risk to delay the discussion they had to have concerning the true danger of the Dark Arts. If she had already begun to read any truly Dark tomes, she would be… compelled… to continue the study. And in her weakened emotional state, she may not find the strength to resist the urge – she could be pulled in rapidly.

He sighed, gently extricating his hand from the sleeping woman. It was Sunday – neither of them had any commitments – it would be an ideal time to discuss the dangers. The specific dangers. First – he needed to discover if she had begun an "independent study" and, if so, how deeply she had explored the subject. If she had begun… he would have to guide her, as Albus had indicated. The knowledge would be a valuable thing for her to have, but she needed a mentor to tell her how far to go, to let her know when to stop, to warn her before the dangers grew too great. Before the Call took hold.

Throwing back the bedcovers he slid out of the cot and, after a short trip to the bathroom to attend to personal matters, headed to the study to order breakfast from the kitchens. Shortly after he placed the order, he heard her stirring in the bedchamber. By the time the food arrived, she was making her way across the room to him, valiantly suppressing a yawn. He nodded a greeting and she sat, fuzzily reaching for a cup of tea. Sipping his own tea, he leaned back in the chair and watched her through hooded eyes, waiting for the right time.

When she was relaxed and at ease, he struck. "So, tell me, Hermione… just how much of the Dark Arts have you already taught yourself?" he asked in a casual tone, pleased when he saw the empty teacup she had been holding fall from nerveless fingers and hit the floor.

The shattering of the porcelain was the only sound in the suddenly quiet room.

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please read and review – I'm really trying to keep Snape from getting nice – you don't know how many edits I had to do in this chapter when he seemed to be getting way too warm and fuzzy… hopefully I still have him believable enough. Anyhoo – please please review!!!

The Perfectly Imperfect – Thank you! I'm trying to make the plot unique – it's tough, with so many great stories out there, but I'm trying! And – you will have an interaction between Draco and Hermione – more than one, actually – just be patient ;)

Serpens Potio – Thank you! I know exactly what you mean about the Ravenclaw (acceptable) and Hufflepuff (eek!) Snapes out there… I love Slytherin Snape so much. There will be more Legilimency, never fear, and much more about the Call of the Blood throughout the story.

Jen – So glad you liked the Lucius/Severus "confrontation"… definitely a good evening for Snape. Thank you so much for your comments about my nonhysterical Hermione – I have read some fics, as you said, that have her as a radical raging crazy woman – I can see, with provocation, her getting angry (a la Book 4, post Yule Ball)… but not hysterically.

Pseudonym – Thank you! I appreciate your comments re:the multi-dimensional characters – thanks!

BabyGidGurl – Patience, patience… heat will come ;)

Fleria – Oh, I'm glad someone liked my "giddy Snape".

Ildryo – Thank you – I'm trying to keep everything in character and plausible. And I really do think that's how the "real" Snape is handling the spy business with Voldie… but we'll see how Rowling writes it in Book 6 (hopefully!)

Lizzie – Hmm… I've been in line a while, myself… what number do you have? LOL

Subtilior – Thank you – I'm not commenting on your Call of the Blood comment… don't want to give much away ;). As requested, lean!&mean(sorta)!Snape, and as you can see I didn't use the wound dressing as a tension grabber… just as a time for him to muse over his plot concerning Hermione. I hope it wasn't too cliché…

Raclswt, Anarane Anwamane, Athena Linborn, Anna, KES, Jackie – Thank you all so much for the reviews!!!!!!!!