Well, my friends… here it is; chapter 21… enjoy!

Chapter 21: The wound

Oscar Wilde once said that we are each our own devil and we make this world our own hell. Was he right? I am afraid he was; for this little couple we cherish so much had everything in their hands to be happy. The problem is that life, as well as love is rarely fair, but sure enough never easy.

When they reached Severus's chambers, they sat at either side of the fire on their characteristic leather chairs, desperately trying to warm themselves from the cold the winter inflicted on their bodies.

It took her only minutes to realize how badly injured her husband really was; he was bleeding almost uncontrollably. She could tell because his black pants had suddenly turned purple from the knee to his ankle and little drops of red blood were now resting motionless on the stone floor of his rooms.

The scene was so shocking that Hermione took her time to get on her knees and face the wound that was barely covered by the black cloth of his trousers.

"What have you done?" she asked while slowly caressing the purple spot in his knee where the chunk of glass had penetrated his skin. She took his calf in her hands and applied some pressure on the wound without ripping his trousers apart.

It hurt. Oh, Gods! How much it hurt! Men like Severus are not used to demonstrating their feelings in front of a female, even if that female is your wife; the love of your life. Severus had never believed in love. He thought he was too cold to love. Now he knew how wrong he had been in believing that one can escape the devil that is cupid with his silver wings and harmless arrows. Harmless? Not at all. In fact, they are lethal. He sat there contemplating love in the flesh, a love that was so pure yet so monstrous.

Finally, he got the courage to answer her question.

"What I do with my life, Miss Granger, is none of your business. My private affairs should not concern you in the least," he simply said, resting his hand on a black leather pillow. He was holding the back of the pillow very hard, in pain. But make no mistake; even though he treated her coldly, he could not refuse her touch. For one thing because he knew how roughly injured he was and for the other because he loved her and her simple company was a delightful experience that brought nothing but joy to his life. The pain, however, was strong enough to make him dizzy, to make him shake from head to toe.

"I was simply asking you what you had done; I was not enquiring about your reasons for doing such a stupid thing," she answered while ripping one part of his trousers from a single cut with a little knife he used to leave in a table by the fire. His wound was now exposed.

"Oh, my god," she managed to mutter at the mere glimpse of his abominable cut.

It was awful. It was, by far, the most ugly thing she had ever seen. The piece of glass was stuck in his skin like a knife and a very sharp knife at that. A magical mirror had stabbed him. Hermione could tell by the dreadful bubbles that surrounded the deep cut. They were green and quite big… and the smell! That terrible smell! The prospect of touching it was not a happy one.

When she slowly stretched her hand to touch the bubbles, Snape shouted in a way she had never heard.

"Miss Granger! Do not touch it!" he commanded, taking her hand on his.

And just there, for a moment, time stopped; time froze, for two individuals have touched as if nothing had changed, as if everything was peaceful in their worlds even though it wasn't; even though they knew death was waiting for them at the very end of the corridor. In fact, they had faced death only seconds ago and despite being just an image, they were sensitive… as sensitive as they could be.

"Do not touch it," he once again said, his voice barely a whisper. Their gazes were locked and they could see their little faces in the other's eyes. The burning desire that had once burned their souls with passion was giving birth to a different kind of love, a love that found comfort in the presence of the other. They dared not act on it; there were too many things at risk.

"Severus…" she whispered while caressing his palm with her thumb, "I wish to heal you," was all she said.

How could he possibly refuse if she asked in that innocent tone of her? How could he possibly refuse if her eyes were filled with tears because of his pain? How could he refuse to nod if he loved her so much? If she was everything to him?

And so he let go of her hand, knowing perfectly well that the moment for him to kiss her was gone.

"It is probably for the best," he kept reminding himself while staring at his wife who was running about the room, searching frantically through his personal laboratories for a potion she knew he ought to possess.

"EUREKA!" she shouted from the labs, holding a yellow bottle in her right hand.

"Well done, Miss Granger," he said, clapping his hands mockingly, "don't you think that it would be proper for me to walk to the Hospital Wing?" he asked.

"I thought you would find Poppy's questions as nosy as you found mine," was all she said while diluting the very solid potion with water.

"Very well, Miss Granger. You do have a point there. But consider yourself warned: that potion you are holding is extremely strong and furthermore I advise you not to stay a minute longer than you should; I may act differently," he said.

"Differently? What do you mean?" she dared ask, while inspecting the potion quite carefully; making sure it was of the right colour and texture.

"Never mind, Miss Granger. It is not safe for you to stay by my side when the potion makes contact with the injury. Is that clear?" he asked, as the professor he was.

"Of course," was all she answered while, once again, kneeling in front of him with her dragon skin gloves on.

She needed to know so many things; she needed to understand what he thought of her; how he felt about her. She needed to comprehend what his plans with Malfoy were and furthermore, she needed to know why he had rejected her when reaching the castle if he had told her he loved her.

But she didn't open her mouth. She applied the potion on the cut, and when the potion reacted to the pus he made the sign for her to lock herself in her chambers.

But she didn't lock the door. Mainly because she thought he was lying to get rid of her, but also because she trusted him, even under the influence of pain and drugs.

Little did she know that the magical wound on his knee would make her happy for he would confess everything in a very un-Snapish way.