"Hermione must come!" Winky popped into existence in the doorway of the small laboratory, where Hermione was carefully compounding a mild sleeping-draught. He resisted using sleeping potions - especially the stronger ones - but now and then they both had too many bad nights in a row, and needed it. And she preferred to make it herself, now that she could - at least then she'd know it could be trusted.
She carefully dripped four drops of lavender oil into the potion - for sweet dreams, and to counteract the smell of the mouse-spleen - and only then looked up. "What is it, Winky?" she asked, lowering the flame under the small cauldron so it could simmer.
"Master Snape is being too active," Winky said anxiously, bobbing and wringing her hands. "One of the scars on his back is split and bleeding. He is saying not to tell you, but Winky is not able to help, and he cannot reach..."
"Stupid man," Hermione said resignedly. "Of course, Winky, I'm coming. Please bring the healing salve and some hot water and clean cloths." The potion would have to simmer for at least an hour, so it should be safe to leave it for a while.
Shoving her wand in her pocket, she hurried up the path to the back door. She'd really hoped he was past this stupid independent thing. She'd been willing to leave tending the injuries that she couldn't see while he was fully dressed to Winky, while it was a matter of dabbing on salve, but this... no. "Severus?" she called, after she tracked him down to a firmly closed bedroom door. "Are you in there?"
She heard a muffled exclamation that sounded like a curse, and then he answered. "Winky told you, didn't she? I'm perfectly all right."
"You are not. She wouldn't have fetched me if you were." It was still early - not quite eight. Winky had probably been helping him to dress when she found the problem. "Are you decent?" She was sure she heard a quick rustle before his testy 'yes', and was careful to open the door slowly.
He was back in bed, wearing a nightshirt, and he scowled at her. "Hermione, I am perfectly all right," he told her, clutching his blankets just a little defensively. "There is no need for you to be concerned."
"Yes there is. Let me see," Hermione said firmly. She had a sudden and very inappropriate urge to giggle - if anyone had told her when she'd first met the Potions Teacher that one day she'd be using the Mum Voice to try to get him out of his nightshirt, she'd probably have fainted.
"No." He pulled his blankets up a bit further and glared. "Go away."
"No." She made an impatient noise, as Winky appeared with a tray, took one look at her adopted Master's horrible scowl, and promptly vanished again, leaving the tray on the floor. "Severus, stop being silly," she said gently. "I'm not going to leave this alone, and you know it... and I'm not going to jump you, either!" she added, grinning, as he inched away across the bed, glaring at her suspiciously. "For heaven's sake, you're acting like a bashful virgin."
He sat straight up, dropping the blankets. "I most certainly am not!" he yelped indignantly... and then, to her surprise, he actually blushed. She hadn't thought he knew how. "I... very well. If you must."
Fortunately for both of them, the nightshirt was a very old-fashioned one - like most wizard clothes - and the drawstring neck opened wide enough that she could pull it down to bare his upper back and shoulders. The nightshirt had a smear of blood on it, and the thick, knotted scar that snaked down over his shoulder and across his back had split in two places. She tutted softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed so she could get close, and drew out her wand. "You've been skimping on the salve," she said reproachfully, smoothing her hand lightly over the skin alongside the scar. It was a little dry, and it shouldn't be.
He twitched his shoulder a little. "Not intentionally," he said quietly. "I'm... there are times when I prefer not to be touched."
Hermione nodded, levitating the tray over to her and dabbing gently at the splits with the warm water. "I know the feeling," she admitted, just as quietly. "It... brings things back, sometimes."
"Yes." He didn't speak again, while she cleaned the wounds and whispered a soft, singing healing charm to close them, but he relaxed slowly, until he was almost leaning into her touch instead of trying to pull away from it.
"There," she whispered, smoothing the salve over the scar, and the others that she could see. She wished they'd been talking. As the silence weighed heavier, the moment had become somehow almost... intimate. They'd gone from being enemies, to adversaries, to cautious allies, and she'd been in favour of change up until then... but now, for the first time, she was unsettlingly aware of him as being male. An intelligent, strongwilled male, with a nice laugh and warm skin and a pleasant smell of herbs.
She didn't welcome the awareness. It was the first time, since Ron had died, that she'd really thought about anyone as... attractive wasn't the right word, but it would do. And it felt as if she was betraying Ron, somehow. "There," she repeated, more firmly, giving his shoulder a little pat and standing up. "It should be all right now."
He pulled his nightshirt up over his shoulders. "Thank you," he said, a little grudgingly. He shifted his shoulders a little, and nodded. "It does feel better," he conceded. From him, it was the equivalent of positive effusions of gratitude.
"Good." She smiled at him, but it felt a little awkward as she moved around and their eyes met. Had he noticed? She hoped not. She valued the slow, tentative friendship they were developing, she didn't want to lose it over a moment of uncomfortable awareness.
He nodded, and then gave her a very normal, Snape-like smile. "If you wouldn't mind," he said, inclining his head meaningfully towards the door, "I would like to dress, Miss Granger."
She giggled, reassured, and headed for the door. "Have fun. I'll be in the lab when you're done."
Severus watched her go, relaxing as the door closed behind her. She hadn't noticed. Good.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd let himself be so... exposed. Half-naked, wandless, without even the physical strength to throw her out of the room. It had felt disturbingly pleasant. And the soft hands on his bare skin had reminded him rather insistently how very long it had been since he'd been on intimate terms with a woman... and that it had never been with one he trusted as much as he trusted Hermione Granger.
It was ridiculous, of course. He was old enough to be her father, and although he might hope for friendship, anything else would be... ludicrous. He was glad she hadn't noticed.
Hermione spent a couple of days hoping for a distraction from the sudden, unwanted realization that Severus was not just a former teacher or an invalid. When two owls arrived, each bearing a letter from the Ministry, her wish seemed to have been granted... although what they wanted, she wasn't sure. Perhaps a renewal of the job offers she'd gotten from several Departments - from Mysteries to International Cooperation, Harry Potter's reasonably bright friend had been in demand, as they all rushed not to be stuck with the dimmer heroes like Neville. The money would have been welcome, around now - she'd spent what small savings she had on potions ingredients, and although wizards could live for a long, long time without money, if they knew their domestic spells, they were going to need money eventually.
But she couldn't leave, not now. He was just starting to get better, to take an interest in life again. If she left, he'd drop straight back into his depression.
One of the envelopes was addressed to her, the other to Severus. She opened hers, frowning a little, and hastily scanned the first page.
Then spent a few minutes using words that most of her teachers would have been very surprised that she even knew, let alone could say aloud. Be careful what you wish for, you might get it. That was doubly true in the wizarding world - chance was easily influenced, coincidence practically a resident, and as for Murphy's Law...
She had been summoned to testify at the trial of Bellatrix Lestrange... finally captured, and with a three-ring trial about to go underway. No chance she'd escape the way her sister and nephew had... she'd killed too many, and enjoyed it too much.
There was a small slip of parchment tucked in with the official letter, and she unfolded it with some trepidation.
'Dear Hermione,
I hope you're all right. Molly says that you've been looking after Severus Snape because he's still not well. He's been summoned to testify too, and it's really very important that he come if he can, so if you can arrange for him to make it, please do. We'll arrange a place for you both to stay in London if you can make it - the owl will wait for a reply. Do take care of yourself, Hermione.
Arthur Weasley'
She relaxed a little, smiling a tiny bit. That was Mr Weasley all over.. awkward, blunt, but very sweet. It was nice that he hadn't had a written fit at her, either... Molly had, of course, heard the whole story from Harry, and sent a very long, anxious letter asking for explanations, but once Hermione had let her know what was going on she'd kindly let it go.
Oh, god. She had no idea how Severus was going to take this. He barely ever left the house, and he hadn't gone further than the potions lab since she'd been there. And he didn't like people staring at him, and the way he looked now, it was inevitable. And the agitation could make him ill again, even though he'd been better lately and hadn't had an attack for over a week...
She allowed herself to be tempted for one moment to just tear up his letter and send the owl back with a firm no. Then, sighing, she set the temptation aside. Deceit would be bad, especially now that he was just starting to trust her a little. Besides, Arthur wouldn't have said it was important unless it really was.
He was reading, when she found him in the small sitting-room. It was a good sign... his books were starting to interest him again. She hesitated in the doorway, debating whether to disturb him... and then he looked up, scowling a little. "Must you hover?" he asked irritably. "I assure you, I will not overstrain myself by reading quietly."
She smiled. The vituperative explosions had stopped, but nothing would ever make Severus Snape less grumpy. She'd stopped minding. "We've been summoned," she said softly, holding out the unopened envelope to him. "It's... well. Not going to be pleasant."
He raised an eyebrow and took the envelope. "I have no intention of being summoned anywhere," he began... and then he fell silent, reading. Watching anxiously, Hermione saw him go very pale, his jaw clenching. When he'd read the letter right through, he laid it down gently on his lap. His hands were shaking visibly. "Unpleasant indeed," he said, his voice just a little unsteady.
"Very." She moved closer, reaching out to touch his shoulder lightly. "You don't have to go," she said gently. "If you're not ready for it, excuses can be made..."
He shook his head. "I have to go," he said quietly, still very pale. "This... is something I should do."
Damned be dignity, hers and his. She sat down on the footstool beside the chair, reaching out to take his hand. She could feel it trembling, and he didn't pull it away, which was a worrying sign of just how upset he was. "I've been called too," she said softly. "There was a note from Mr Weasley, saying how important it was that we go... I'm not sure why, he didn't say. They must surely have plenty of other witnesses."
He took a ragged breath. "And yet you suggested that I remain here," he said, but not as accusingly as he might have a few months before.
"I'm absolutely certain that they can convict her without us," Hermione said, and as much as she wished otherwise, she wasn't entirely calm and steady herself. "I'd like to be there. I saw her kill... people." She looked down at her knees. "Ron," she added, her voice in turn a little unsteady. "But I'm not going to let you risk dying as well when you don't need to."
She didn't know what expression was on his face, because she was staring determinedly at her knees while trying not to cry, but after a moment he closed his cool fingers gently around hers. "Then we will both go," he said calmly, his voice reassuringly matter-of-fact.
She nodded, blinking hard, and looked up to give him a wry little smile. "Mr Weasley said he'd arrange a place for us to stay... he evidently thinks we'll have to stay at least overnight. I'll let him know that we'll be coming."
"Very well." He paused, and a bitter, unhappy expression crossed his face ."I will... require help," he said very quietly. "I do not think I can apparate unassisted."
It must have cost his pride dearly, admitting that, and she nodded, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Of course," she said matter-of-factly. "I'll help. I've done Side-Along apparition before."
He nodded. "I... appreciate it." The trembling was subsiding now, and he wasn't quite so pale. He would never, ever admit it, if it were so, but she thought he might feel a little better knowing she was going to be there. And having him to look after would make things... easier for her, too. She always felt better when she could do something.
"It's all right." She sighed. "She's the last one," she said softly. "Who hadn't been caught or killed, I mean. When the trial's finished... well, it won't be over. After everything we've all been through, the war won't ever be done, not really. But the hunting, and still being afraid that they're out there... that'll be done."
"It will." He sighed a little, relaxing back into his chair. "Some... I believe the Muggle term is 'closure'?"
"Something like that." Hermione nodded. "I'll go write to Mr Weasley... and let Winky know. She'll want to make sure everything's clean and mended and everything." She paused, letting a pleasanter thought distract her from the coming trial. "I wonder if she'd like to visit Dobby, while we're gone? He was very fond of her, I remember. Perhaps they miss each other."
He blinked, giving her an almost amused look. "I suppose it's possible. Will she let us leave her behind, though? She's quite... persistent."
"She will," Hermione said confidently. "She trusts me to look after you."
She couldn't for the life of her understand why that announcement put such an odd look on his face.
He was finally putting on a little weight again, he noticed, inspecting himself in the mirror. He looked slightly less like an ambulatory set of empty robes, at least. And, fortunately, the robes he wore when not teaching were cut to flow loosely, so it didn't show that they were now rather too big.
Black might, perhaps, be a bad choice. Given that it was known that he had been a Death Eater... on the other hand, he always wore black. Changing now might be seen as a tacit admission of guilt. And if he wanted to change their colour, he'd have to ask for help, something he loathed doing... even if Winky and Hermione were much less embarrassing to ask, somehow, than everyone else. No. They could stay black.
He had, however, tied his hair back into a short tail. As much as he preferred to hide behind it, hiding would not be politic today. Besides... the more visible his scars were, the better.
The trial would begin in three hours. He would, without doubt, have to talk about... things. He'd been spared that at his own trial, since he'd been unconscious at the time, and Hermione hadn't known the half of it. (Although she'd been disturbingly accurate about his basic motivations and tactics, and if he hadn't known she had no training whatsoever in Legilimancy...)
He didn't want to do this. He would, in point of fact, have preferred to be tortured again. But it was only what he deserved. He could never atone for what he'd done, he deserved to be punished for it, so he would do what he had to do.
Limping over to his desk, he sat down in the comfortable chair. Winky had helped him to dress, and Hermione had brought up a mild Strengthening Potion to replace the breakfast he'd been unable to face, but then they'd both acceeded to his request for time alone to gather his thoughts. They were not proving amenable to gathering, nor were calm or resignation easy to achieve.
Thoughts of the two very different females who had insistently invaded his life, however, did at least provide a distraction, as they had for days, and he frowned a little in thought. 'She trusts me to take care of you'. That was what Hermione had said. And it hadn't seemed odd to her, but of course it wouldn't - childish efforts to free the Hogwarts house-elves aside, she didn't know much about them.
Severus did. House-elves were notoriously possessive of their humans. Most of them didn't trust the average human to be able to take care of him-or-herself, let alone taking care of someone else... and to trust another human to look after THEIR person was almost unheard of. And yet Winky had, after a little anxious fussing, agreed to Hermione's suggestion that she go to visit Dobby while they were away. And had proceeded to give Hermione a long list of instructions on the proper care and feeding of one Severus Snape, who'd had to struggle to hide his shock. Hermione had been absolutely right - Winky trusted her to take care of him.
Not without reason, he had to concede. Winky had certainly seen almost as much as he had; the camp-bed in his room while he was ill, the times she'd caught him when he stumbled, the brewing of potions and salves to help him rest and heal... Hermione was, despite the many reasons she had for despising him, doing a very good impression of being genuinely fond of him and concerned for his wellbeing. It was odd - and not a little disturbing, frankly, especially given his new awareness of her.
That train of thought was almost as disturbing as the one involving the trial, although in a very different way. It was almost a relief when a tap on the door summoned him from his thoughts.
He still felt way too thin, but at least she could tell the robes were occupied now.
Hermione let go, checking both of them a little anxiously for signs of splinching. Everything seemed to be with them, good. "There," she said, relaxing a little. "How are you feeling?"
"Intact," he said grimly. He had been grim all morning - so had she, really. This was going to be hard on both of them.
"Good. Mr Weasley said he'd meet us near the fountain." She set off towards it, moving slowly but careful not to hover. He hated it enough when she did it in private, he'd bite her head off if she tried it in public.
He followed, the cane she'd convinced him to use clunking softly on the floor. No Lucius Malfoy style pimp-cane for him, of course... it was a long, very heavy piece of blackened oak that would make a quite satisfactory club. He'd agreed to use it only after she'd pointed out the usefulness of subtly emphasizing his ongoing infirmity to anyone who might doubt that Voldemort had REALLY tortured him - being manipulative was less wounding to his dignity than admitting that he really needed the thing. "It's improved," he said, when they got closer to the fountain.
"It has," she agreed. After the fight that had destroyed it nearly three years before, the fountain had been rebuilt with a rather different theme - no worshipful non-humans or smirking beauty-contestants now. Instead, a bearded wizard supported a heavily bandaged man, and an earnest-looking young witch held a sleeping toddler in her arms. A prominent St Mungo's plaque at their feet reminded passersby that all funds from the fountain went to the hospital. "Still sentimental, but better."
"Hermione! Severus!" Arthur had spotted them and came hurrying over. His face was more lined than it had been, and there was a lot more grey in the once-red hair, but he smiled when he saw them, and gave Hermione a quick hug. "I'm glad you could both make it." He offered Severus a hand. "I appreciate your coming," he said quietly. "This trial... it's going to be a real circus, I'm afraid."
Hermione did not need Legilimency to see that Severus was mentally awarding his former ally points for not flinching at the sight of him as he shook Arthur's hand briefly. "I don't doubt it," he said quietly. "I am, however, at a loss as to why we were summoned. Surely there are a plethora of witnesses to Bellatrix's misdeeds..."
"There are." Arthur grimaced unhappily. "But you are... well. There are some who think your own trial in absentia was... insufficient. And Bellatrix Lestrange is, I fear, quite amenable to the suggestion of incriminating you - and her nephew, as well - in exchange for a lighter sentence. Actually, I think she would have done it even if she hadn't been made an offer."
Hermione reached out to take Severus' arm as unobtrusively as she could as he swayed a little, his face very pale. "I... see," he said grimly. "And since it was Hermione's evidence on my behalf that primarily secured my pardon..."
"She's going to get dragged over the coals too," Arthur agreed unhappily. "Kingsley Shacklebolt arranged to have you both called as witnesses for the trial - we thought it would be better if you were here to accuse her, instead of her having a chance to blacken your characters in your absence."
"Thank you," Hermione said, her lips tightening. "I'd rather face this than have it creep up on me."
"As would I," Severus agreed, although he was still leaning just a little into her grip, letting her help him to stay upright.
"I thought you would." Arthur nodded. "And... well, no offense, but your appearance is going to help you," he added, giving Severus a sympathetic look. "Very few people know how badly you were injured - you certainly can't be accused of falsifying your claims of being tortured."
"I should think not," Severus agreed, taking a deep breath and straightening slowly. "Very well. Where is the hearing being held?"
"Courtroom One." Arthur shook his head. "It's going to be public. A lot of people are here already... all the surviving members of the Order are coming, of course," he added encouragingly. "And Ginny said she was calling up Dumbledore's Army... they were your old schoolfriends, weren't they?" he asked Hermione. "So you won't be without supporters in the crowd, I promise you."
"Thank you, Mr Weasley." Hermione had spent years learning to control, if not her emotions, then at least their visibility. She was reasonably sure that she looked calm and composed. Inside, she wanted very badly to be sick. This was going to be a nightmare - and a nightmare in front of an awful lot of witnesses.
