Hello all again! Thank you again for you kind reviews, I've answered at the bottom. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

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Chapter Seven – Help…

"Do you think that he's actually going to help her?" Ron demanded.

Both Harry and Ginny looked up at him, Ginny trying to stifle a yawn. While they too were concerned about Hermione's wellbeing, they were getting tired of answering the same questions again and again. Ginny put it down to the fact that Ron simply did not want to believe that Snape could possibly be of some help.

But to answer that… "For the thirteenth time Ronald," Ginny began, "yes, we believe that Snape will help Hermione." She examined a crack in one of her fingernails. "Why wouldn't he? He's been told by McGonagall to." She rolled onto her back. It was nearing midnight, and she wanted desperately to go to her room, but Ron had kept the questions and theories flowing.

"Maybe he just said he will, and maybe he will. But maybe he won't, and gives her the wrong potion." He said, his forehead creasing.

"Ron, as Hermione has pointed out to us on numerous occasions, he is the Potions Master." Harry said, bent over his Charms homework. It wasn't usual for him to do his homework, but he needed to take his mind of Hermione. "He wouldn't do anything to stuff up with potions, it'd be too obvious."

Ginny stretched out on the floor, studying the ceiling of the common room. While she hadn't actually seen Hermione since before she became ill, she didn't doubt Snape for a moment. She, along with most of the Order, had begun to trust Snape when Mitchel Riley had made his report. Ginny had utmost faith in Mitchel, and if he couldn't find anything, there was nothing to find.

Yet the boys, especially Ron, couldn't let the image of Professor Snape being evil out their heads. No matter what arguments were produced from anyone, they held steadfast to their beliefs. Stubborn males, she thought with a sigh.

"Then why can't we go and see her?" Ron demanded angrily, scowling at the fire as if it were the base of all troubles. "If he's not going to do anything bad to her, then why can't we go and see her!"

"If you were Snape, would you like two boys who dislike him immensely and refuse to believe what is plainly right before their eyes, would you let them into your private chambers?" Ginny snapped, standing up and brushing off her jeans. "Maybe you should think on that!" Striding off to the girls' staircase, she felt bad. She didn't mean to snap at Ron, but he deserved. After all the times that Snape had helped them, saved them, and he still wasn't going to believe him.

As she ascended the staircase, she heard the soft voice of Harry say, "she has a point, you know."

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Severus Snape awoke the next morning at 5am with a crick in his neck. With a groan, he sat up from the armchair he was resting in. There was not a chance he could call the semi-dosing he had been experiencing all night sleep. He'd decided it was time to allow his body some rest after he cleaned Miss Granger's boils again at 1am and let her choke down more potion. He had moved one of the green leather armchairs that resided in his sitting room into the bedroom. He hated to admit it, but he was a little scared to leave his "patient" alone, after she'd had another fit of terror a few hours before. So he'd sat in the armchair in the shadowing corner of the room, watching Miss Granger by the light of the candle he kept burning on his beside table.

Several times during the night she'd little out a little cry, and tossed about. Snape worried about his bed sheets, remembering that they had been his favourite. But now he was most looking forward to burning them.

Standing up and stretching, he realised that he had woken up just in time to administer more potion. Lighting several more candles with his wand to give the room more light, he strode over to the witch. To his surprise, she was laying back, her eyes wide open, but apparently unseeing. Worry crept up his spine, but he dismissed it as simply a cold shiver. Leaning over and brushing his hair away from his face, he waved a hand before her face. She blinked.

"Come on, Miss Granger." He said in a quiet voice, being careful not to startle her. "Time for more potion." He cringed at the sound of his own voice, thinking himself as pathetic as that MediWitch upstairs. The one who had come down sick at the most perfect time, leaving him to… Snape growling, pushing these thoughts away. He rested on the bed next to Granger and again gently pulled back the sheets. A few new boils had risen on her legs, which Snape was quick to dab potion onto.

When it came to drinking the potion, he managed to rouse the witch for a few moments to swallow the potion. When he had set it back down, he found himself not wanting to move for a moment, despite the… female that lay but inches from him. One night out of his bed, and already he missed it, he thought irritably, casting a dark look over to the armchair. Why hadn't he thought to transfigure it? He could have made quite a comfortable little cot. What part of his brain hadn't been working when he'd moved that wretched thing –

He was suddenly cut off by a scream from Miss Granger. "NO!" She yelled, thrashing. "You said you'd HELP me, you bastard!" In her thrashings, she managed to grab his arm, and in his surprise, caught him off guard and flung him across the bed, until he was sprawled over her.

"You LIED!" She shrieked, her eyes clenched, her nails flying at him, scratching. "No, don't take me there, don't take me there, don't take me there!" She began to cry.

Scrambling, he tried to sit up. Just as his head rose, he found his eyes staring into chestnut eyes, eyes filled with horror, with terror. "Please don't take me there." She begged him, holding onto his arm. "You said you'd help me." Her nails began to dig into his skin painfully. Her chest was heaving with effort. Tears leaked down her face, her expression pleading.

Snape took a breath. "Miss Granger, I won't take you there." He didn't have any idea where there was, but he wouldn't. "I didn't lie; I am here to help you." He kept his voice quiet and gentle, reassuring. He told himself that he could be very persuasive when he wanted to, but he knew he was lying. "Please Miss Granger, I won't take you there, I won't hurt you."

Her gazed glazed over, and he wondered what she was seeing, because she didn't seem to be seeing him. "Y-you won't?" She asked, quivering. Her grip lessened.

He removed his arm from her grasp. "No, I won't." He slid up the bed closer to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I won't take you there, I won't hurt you." He whispered again. She trembled at his touch, but he moved to stroke her hair, telling himself it was only to help calm the scared witch down. His fingers became locked in her tangled mousey hair. "You don't have to go there, come back with me." He still didn't have any where he was talking about, but the words seemed to work.

She visibly relaxed. "Away from here." She closed her eyes again. When she opened them again, they were clear. She looked straight into his eyes, and he felt as though she was looking straight into his brain. "You'll help me, you'll help me." She whispered, closing her eyes again.

Gently he lowered her upper half back onto the bed. She was breathing evenly again and appeared to be sleeping. He hoped that she would stay this way as she backed away from the bed as fast as he dared. He looked at his hands with disgust, and decided it was probably safe to have a shower, now that the Gryffindor was settled again. She seemed to have about three hours between these terror attacks.

Stepping into the bathroom, closing and locking the door, he stripped himself, and with a flick of his wand, sent the clothes down to the house-elfs to be cleaned. Turning on the shower so it was as hot as he could possibly take it, he stepped inside, and then wished he still had his wand, so he could lock even the shower screen in place. Standing under the hot stream of water, he scrubbed himself as hard as he dare, as if to wash away what had just happened.

What was it that Miss Granger was seeing in her delusion? What was it that was terrifying her so much? And where the hell was there?

Lost in his thoughts, he stood into the shower until it turned cold.

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Hermione let Professor Snape lead her a bit further away from the oncoming storm. She still couldn't lower herself without being hurt and she could only turn around when the Professor was there to help.

She was quickly becoming tired and irritated by the lack of being able to decide where she was going. But she felt herself being pushed towards the thick coverage of clouds ahead. Sometimes she felt as though it was Snape who was pushing her there, and she assumed he was pushing her to her death. There was no way she could fly in that that storm, and it hurt so much, so very much to try and land. She was surely going to die.

She was shocked at one point when she turned and saw Snape fluttering beside her, his feathered wingtips gently brushing against her. Instantly she had assumed he was the one trying to coax her towards her death. She had been surprised when she actually did feel his touch, his hands on her shoulders, calming her down. At one point, she had sworn she was back in the dark room again, looking into his black eyes by the light of candles that were nearby. But when they were back, high in the sky, she knew that was impossible.

But, oh, the gentleness she'd seen in his eyes, the warmth she'd felt in his touch as he calmed her, brought her away from the storm. She didn't think it was possible for the over-grown bat Professor to be so kind, so gently. He'd lessened her pain when he'd arrived, somehow, someway. But now he was gone and she felt lonely.

Wishing for Harry, Ron or Ginny to show up, Hermione floated upright gently above the trees, which were gaining a nasty, sharp look about them. Oh, how she wished Snape would come and rescue her for good before the storm hit.

No, she quickly changed her thoughts. Snape was not going to rescue her, her friends were. But panic rose in her chest as she realised that Snape had been the only person she'd seen in hours… not since Potions. How did she make it between here and Potions?

Oh, she was so tired, she didn't want to think, didn't want to fly, didn't want to see the storm that was heading towards her. He was her only hope, really.

"Snape…help me please…" she whispered, before letting her consciousness fail again.

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Wow, hello again JTBJAB, I'm really happy that the previous chapter was your favourite, I quite enjoyed it. I'm really glad it made you feel "warm and fuzzy", thrilled me to hear it! Love to get a reaction! I hope you find this chapter just as good!

I'm sorry for not answering your reviews sooner, NayNay, but I wuv you too! To avoid being beaten to death with a shovel, I will continue the story… as long as you continue to read and review! Mwahaha!

Hey Nastygurl, thanks again for your advice, I hope I've done better on this chapter in that area. Thanks for your kind words as well, and yes, I was very happy with that chapter. Hope you find this one okay!

Yeah, duj, I gave Snape wings more like a raven then a bat, but not specifically a raven, maybe some else, because I like feathered wings better then bats! LOL and also, the fact that in Hermione's delusions he isn't a bat-like creature says that while she finds him dark, she doesn't see him as the "overgrown bat" :-)