"Ready?" Snape asked, snapping her out of her consuming thoughts.
"Last time I tried to do magic, it hurt," she said.
"It shouldn't cause pain, now. It will probably be much harder to achieve the same results as you're used to," he admitted. "Why don't we start with simple spells to see how your stamina is?"
She nodded and waited for further instruction. It made her feel less nervous to be following his orders. Doing what a professor told her to do was an old, comfortable hat for Hermione Granger.
"Okay," she agreed and gripped her wand more firmly, pushing her insecurities behind her.
"Lights out," he commanded. She raised her eyebrow, but complied.
"Nox," she said, loudly. The lights flickered, dimmed, and then went completely out. Normally, they would have extinguished immediately. "Oh," she whispered. She didn't feel sick or nauseous but there was a definite resistance that she had never really encountered before. She felt like she was pushing through water. Snape waved his wand and the lights came back on.
"Good," he said. "Try a levitation spell." She pointed her wand toward a stack of papers on the coffee table nearby.
"Wingardium Leviosa." The papers fluttered as if a window was open somewhere and the breeze was sneaking in. She furrowed her brow and tried again. "Wingardium Leviosa!" The papers lifted but scattered to the floor. She sat down on the sofa, defeated. "I'm like Ron, or something." He chuckled lightly.
"I wouldn't say that. The papers moved, didn't they?" She felt guilty that he had made her smile at Ron's expense but she didn't bite the smile back. His face softened in the most subtle way when she smiled at him. "Think of doing simple spells as physical therapy for your magic. You start with the basics – build up your power slowly. It won't be too long before you're up to your usual standards," he promised.
"I understand. What would happen if I tired to – say – do a patronus charm right now?" she asked. He raised his eyebrow.
"Can you do a patronus?" he asked.
"Yes," she said shyly. "It's an otter." He blinked.
"Well, probably nothing. It wouldn't hurt you, you probably just couldn't do it," he said. "Go ahead and try if your curiosity is that insatiable."
"I asked one question, professor," she said. "There are worse things than being a know-it-all." She meant to snap at him but she just sound tired. He bowed his head a little. "Sit down; I'll trim your hair. I feel well enough, now." She found he responded to her better when she was no nonsense. If she had asked him nicely, he would have made some sort of cocky expression with excessive use of his eyebrows and insulted her but now he just moved to the wooden chair by the fire and loosened the highest buttons on his collars.
"The scissors are in the desk," he said. Most wizards and witches used wands to cut their hair but Hermione, being muggle-born, found that she preferred to do it the manual way. Snape usually agreed that doing things the non-magic way was more precise. Especially in the art and science of potions – magic could get in the way or taint things. Rather then run the risk, you chopped everything by hand. Even hair.
She retrieved her comb from her bathroom, leaving him sitting still as a statue for a minute. She knew he probably had a comb in his bathroom but she wasn't about to walk in there to rummage through his hygiene related items uninvited. Hers was plastic and pink. It had wide, thick teeth for her coarse, curly hair. His hair was fine and straight but the comb would do. It was an intimate act, brushing someone else's hair. She carefully brushed his hair root to tip until the comb didn't snag anymore. He remained motionless. She could hear him breathing. She was starting to recognize him as a man first, and then her professor. He was so familiar to her now. The slope and arch of his nose, the broad shoulders and narrow hips. His large feet and hands. His sharp elbows.
She picked up her wand and held it stead. She said firmly the spell that would cause the end of her wand to spray a light mist of water. It worked for just long enough before she gave it up. She brushed the water into his hair until it was damp all the way through.
"How short?" she asked. "Do you want me to make it short? Like, you know, Professor Lupin short?" she asked.
"Heavens no," he said. "I never want my anything to be like Lupin."
"He's a good man," she said.
"Sometimes," he shot back. "Sometimes he's no man at all."
"Do you really hate him because he is a werewolf?" she asked. She would be disgusted if that were the case.
"Of course not," he said.
"Then why?"
"I… sometimes I don't even remember anymore," he sighed. "It was a long time ago."
"Take off your shirt," she said, shaking her head. "I can't cut it with that ridiculous collar." He looked like he was about to say something but rolled his eyes instead and set about the tedious task of undoing an endless row of buttons. She snipped until it fell about his jaw line. The ends were even and his hair gained an almost healthy looking shine. She brushed the hair clippings off his bare shoulder with the pads of her fingers. His eyes closed and she liked the way his eyelashes rested on the swell of his aristocratic cheek bones.
"You can go in a week," he said, opening his eyes, catching her staring at him, her fingers still burning on his skin, right at the place that his neck turned into his collarbone.
"Two, by my count," she said, but the voice that came out was an octave too low. It didn't sound like her own.
"Unnecessary," he said. "The treatment was a success. You're healed. The disease is gone from your body and your immune system is practically up to par." She smoothed a stray lock of hair away from his eye.
"Thanks to you," she said. The corner of his mouth lifted. It was his version of a smile.
oooo
It was night again and she was sitting in her room, practicing spells. It was getting easier. He had sent for her fourth year charms text book – an intermediate starting point – but she still had the entire thing memorized. The text was open in front of her but she didn't refer to it. She started with her first year and was well into her fifth. She could lift books, pillows, chairs. She couldn't lift her trunk without breaking a sweat, so she didn't try.
She'd moved onto transfiguration by the time she was too tired to change her pillows back from a pile of bricks. She looked at her bed, frowning. The bed Snape had used in the beginning had been stripped by the elves for washing. She was in sweats and a tank top – clothes that hadn't fit before. She was a little disheveled and not quite elegant. Her arm had been taken out of the splint and was in a less permanent wrap that had a stasis charm on it so that she had much more mobility than she would have had with a muggle cast. It wasn't as bulky, either.
She was barefoot when she marched into his chambers. He was on the couch, reclining, reading what looked to be a novel of some sort. She didn't peg him as a fiction reader, but then again, she imagined he read anything he could get his hands on, just like her.
"I turned my pillows into bricks and now I can't get them back," she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. He didn't lower his book, just pointed in the direction of his bedroom. She didn't question, and marched down the hallway. She crawled into his bed – he had nice sheets – and she picked the pillow that smelled like him. He slept on the left side of the bed, closest to the door. She liked the idea that her body was where his body liked to be. She pulled the comforter to her chin and slept a dreamless sleep.
He was in the bed in the morning. Where else would he be? It was his bed. He was fully clothed and on top of the bed linens. He was right at the edge of the bed, as far from her as possible. She was tired – bleary eyed. Had she been more awake she would have crawled out of bed and fled the scene but for some reason, she found the sight of him awkwardly laying there endearing and so she crawled out of her warm cocoon and slid over until her body was pressed to his. She put her head with its short hair on his chest and closed her eyes again. She'd thought he was sleeping but it wasn't long before his arm wrapped around her and she felt his body relax and him fall asleep for real.