The Wounded
Chapter Three
Redeemed and Prosperous
Snape awoke, the smell of food filling his nostrils. He sat up sharply and looked about himself. He was in the same place he had fallen asleep. A coughing fit erupted from his chest, spewing pain into every recess of his lungs. He felt like a hollow log filling with a thick fluid. The wounds on his neck and chest were healed. He was wearing no shirt, and his robe and shirt were folded neatly beside him.
He sighed. She must have picked them up while she was out. Once the coughing had subsided, he saw the potion bottle sitting on the coffee table before him with a bottle of Ogden's Fire Whiskey next to it. The cap was off of the whiskey and as he went to reach for it, he saw why. His fingers were all splinted. Each one carefully taped, and braced. He marveled at the work on his hands, and then stood up to go to the kitchen.
He saw her there, cooking on the muggle stove. The smell was coming from what she was cooking in the pot she was stirring. He saw her stiffen; she must have realized he was there. He felt a tickling on his mind, and her body relaxed. She placed the lid on the pot of stew and turned to face him.
"Do you need help with the potion bottle?" she said quietly. "It cannot be..."
"Yes, yes. It cannot be uncorked until it is about to be used. I know," he sighed. "How long have I been asleep?"
"Three days," she said stiffly. Shock caught his face, and then he removed it with a sneer.
"It's not polite to feed potions to an unsuspecting person Hermione Granger," he said with a dark smirk.
"You wanted use of your broken fingers, I'm sure. Thusly, I had no choice Professor. Unless of course, you wanted to be awake while I rebroke each one and set it again," she said with a chipper smile that was so sickeningly fake. "I'll take the splints off today before you eat. Now do you need help with the bottle or not? This is the last of the pneumonia medicine. It should be gone today. You are just evacuating your lungs now," she said turning to the cabinet and getting some bowls down.
"How is Draco?" he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.
"Doing rather well. He isn't talking much yet, but he will be eating in the kitchen tonight," she said quietly. She walked past him and retrieved the bottle of potion. "Potion first or unwrapping first?"
"Unwrapping." He stated in a matter of fact tone of voice. Not having use of his hands must have been extremely taxing. She didn't know the details of what had happened to him, but she knew that whoever had attacked him and Draco made sure that the potions professor would be able to do nothing for Draco's wounds in any sort of magical way. Torturous for the professor it must have been to try and wrap all of those wounds without the ability to put medicines on them. It was meant for him to just watch Draco die a slow death to blood poisoning.
She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. Signaling with a bit of flair for him to sit. With a sigh, he so despised needing her assistance he moved himself to the seat. Resting his elbows on the table. Hermione went to her bag and pulled out a jar, then sat near the professor. She carefully undid the tape on each finger, and then removed the gauze and the metal splints.
"Don't move your fingers yet," she said cautiously as she opened the jar taking a heavy amount of the cream from within the jar into her fingers before massaging it into each of his hands. Her fingers dug into the flesh of his hands. Making sure that ever inch of his fingers, the knuckles, the back and the front of his hands were thoroughly massaged.
"I think you missed your calling, Miss Granger," he said with a smirk.
"Yeah, the Dark Lord says that too," she said frowning as she finished with his hands. "Okay, cautiously, and if any of them give you pain other than stiffness you need to stop."
"Yes mother dearest," he snarled as he started curling his fingers slowly. They popped and crackled from lack of use, but indeed there was not a lot of pain. Stiffness was being worked out by whatever the blue salve was she had used. It also made his hands extremely warm, which helped ease out the stiffness.
When he looked up, she was not sitting across from him any longer. She was dishing out bowls of the stew from the pot on the stove. It smelled delicious, and he had to say he was indeed pretty hungry. He stood and delivered himself to the fate of the potion that would release the rest of the mucus from his lungs and finally allow him to breathe again with ease. Uncorking the bottle, he took it back with ease. Ease of too many years working with the stuff allowed him. His stomach was none too pleased that it was another potion and not food adorning it as it twisted and flipped in his belly.
Taking in a few deep breaths to relax his unsettled stomach, he felt the potion begin its work. His lungs able to take in deeper and deeper breaths with ease until the tickle at the back of his throat was felt. He moved himself into the bathroom to evacuate the rest of his lungs.
Draco awoke in a cool sweat. He truly wished for some Dreamless Sleep potion. He had not slept well over the past four days, but at least his stomach was giving him a rest and his muscles were willing to function again without causing him too much pain. He found himself over the past two days able to do more and more on his own. Yesterday he had showered on his own. That was a great comfort all on it's own. The fact he had to take help from Granger was bad enough, but the first days when she had to bathe him was the absolute worst. The absolute second most humiliating thing in his life. But again, decidedly better than the first most degrading thing in his life.
There was a knock on the door and he saw the bushy haired freak open the door and look in.
"Draco, I set out clothes for you. Dinner is almost ready," she said without questioning.
Since when did that happen? Since when did Know It All Granger not ask a thousand questions about nothing in particular? He sighed and gave her a sharp nod. And as if she knew the cue, she closed the door and he heard her walk down the hall away from here.
He pulled himself out of the bed slowly. His muscles groaned and strained for him to remain still. But this stiffness would only go away with motion, and a hot shower. Trudging his way into the bathroom he turned on the shower and was able to climb in enjoy the hot water caressing his sore muscles.
His mind traveled back to the past couple of days, trying to pinpoint what was so wrong with Granger. She had been practically submissive. She assisted him in getting in and out of baths full of potions, undressing and dressing him the first and second day. The third he was able to do it himself. She cleaned his bed, brought him food. Even fed him. It was completely embarrassing to be at the whim of the Mudblood, but he needed to eat after all. She spoke only to tell him how he was doing, what he needed to do to tend to himself, and to give him updates on Snape. This was the first time he was venturing out of his room in over two weeks.
Yesterday he found her asleep in the chair beside his bed. A book in her lap. The orange cat she had as a familiar curled up on the end of his bed, very awake and very alert. He had the feeling that if something came that damned cat would have woke up the whole house. It was her soft whimpering that had awoken him. He didn't say anything, or move to wake her, he just listened as her dreams played out behind her shifting eyes under her eyelids.
When she woke with a start, she had found him staring at her. He didn't care what she thought of it. And apparently neither did she, she just made her way to the bathroom, then back out to get him some tea and another bought of healing potions. She apologized for not bringing Dreamless Sleep potions with her, but she could only take what McGonnagall would let her have. Obviously his nightmares were showing outwardly if she needed to say that.
He pulled himself from the shower after cleaning up and washing his hair. He dressed slowly, it still hurt to bend over, but he could do it. It took some time, but he got himself put together. Unable to raise his arms above his shoulders was a pain. His long wet hair just dripped down his shirt. He picked up his towel and carefully walked from the room. He had to take it slowly, if he didn't he still got dizzy and lightheaded. Granger said it was from blood loss, and she had given him all of her blood replacement potions she had. The rest he would have to make up on his own.
The smell of the stew caught his nose once he entered the hallway. Slowly he entered the kitchen and looked to see the table set with three settings and felt relief that his friend and mentor would be joining them this evening for their meal. He could hear him coughing in the kitchen's bathroom. He had known he was sick, but that wet cough sounded positively horrid. Granger came in with an empty potion bottle and threw it away before setting a bottle of Fire Whiskey at one of the settings along with a glass. Hot tea sat at the other two settings. Candles on the table lit the room with a warm light.
Granger picked up his towel off of his arm, and pulled out his chair for him.
"Well aren't our roles reversed?" he mocked.
"Not at all, you would never touch a chair for a Mudblood," she said sternly with a cold flair to her voice. Not the usual firey spark she normally had.
"Alright, who are you and what did you do with the real Mudblood Granger?" he said with a sly smirk.
"I killed her and shaved her head to make enough polyjuice to get me through the rest of my life," she said sardonically. She took the towel and pulled his hair out of his shirt, towelling down his wet hair with firm rubbing strokes that served their purpose to dry his hair but also massaged his scalp. Once finished she tossed the towel onto the empty place setting on the small kitchen table and headed back to the stove. Opening the thick metal door on the front of it, she removed bread from it with a thick glove on her hand. An, an oven, he thought. It was an Odd looking oven, but an oven nonetheless. She moved the croissants onto a plate and set them to the middle of the table on a pretty plate covered in sunflowers.
Snape moved out of the bathroom, flushed and obviously uncomfortable.
"Granger! You could have warned me that was a double strength dosage!" he snarled.
"True, I could have," she said with a shrug. "But you hadn't earned it." She jeered at him. "Now sit and eat, we're waiting for you."
Draco was a bit astounded by the fact that this woman had such manners. Waiting for the eldest man of the house to take his seat and begin eating? Where had a muggle born learned that? Draco's eyebrow rose considerably before she turned her eyes to him, he let her see the smirk forming on his lips before her cold gaze turned back to the now seated professor.
"I learned it from my father, Draco," she said waiting patiently for Snape to start eating.
Snape chuckled, obviously having been prodding himself to know the thoughts of the boy. Picking up his soupspoon he began to eat his stew, and Hermione and Draco joined in the silent affair that would be known as dinner for that eve.
Draco ate almost three bowls of the nourishment, Snape had two. Hermione did not even finish her first, and only ate one of the croissants offered with the meal. Instead preferring her water over the solid foods.
"Is the potion you are using causing you a lack of appetite Miss Granger?" he said smoothly.
"Yes," she said sipping her water again.
"I can brew one for you that will not," he said waving his hand as if it meant nothing for him to do. Hermione sat quietly. As Draco watched the tennis volley between them not understanding the meaning behind what it was they could be talking about.
"Excuse me, what potion?" he looked over at Hermione incredulously.
"That. Is. None. Of. Your. Affair. Malfoy!" she said straitly and with every word punctuated to the tightest of grips of her vocal capability without sounding hysterical. Snape just raised an eyebrow at her.
"It was only a question Miss Granger," he said smoothly. "He meant no offense."
Draco was now even more perplexed than before. What possibly could she need a potion for that would cause her a lack of appetite that also was something she so strongly wished not to speak of with him?
"It might be more beneficial for you to tell the boy," Snape said with a hint of sarcasm belying the fact he was serious.
"And how would that benefit me?" she sighed taking the rest of her bowl to the floor for her cat, who purred running up to it hungrily.
"Well, if he is your only knowledge of those things, you might serve to learn a thing from Draco," he said incredulously. "It might prove beneficial."
"Who said I want anything of that nature from Malfoy?" she snarled.
"Wait, wait," Draco waved his hand about tired of being talked about like he wasn't in the room. "What on earth are the two of you speaking of? Learn what precisely from me?"
"I think what the good Professor, and I use the term good very loosely here, is referring to is the ability to seduce," she said with a cold hearted demeanor that would freeze the room better than a Dementor.
"What!" The shock was overwhelming on his face. "Severus you have to be half out of your gourd! What has she put in your Fire Whiskey? I wouldn't touch that, that... "
"Mudblood," Hermione interjected for him at his stuttering.
Draco shut his mouth. He looked at her in sheer mortified horror of her blatant name of herself, and the fact she called herself it with such ease. He blinked a couple of times and turned back to Snape in sheer confusion.
"It would seem Draco, that I've been replaced," he said dully taking another bite out of the croissant. "These really are magnificent Miss Granger, now I have work to do if you two will excuse me." Hermione just nodded as he excused himself from the table and put his dishes into the sink. Grabbing the Fire Whiskey, he descended into the cellar. Draco sat in horror of the conversation, as if his world had been doing just fine until he decided to eat. He looked at his food as if it were to blame for the whole sordid affair.
"Are you finished?" Hermione said coldly.
"What?" he said blinking and looking up to her now standing form. "Oh. Yes."
She took his dishes and moved to the sink, rinsing them all off.
"What was Professor Snape talking about Granger?" he said turning slowly in his chair to look at her.
"It doesn't matter," she said scrubbing the plate a little harder than was probably necessary. It agitated her talk about it. A smirk came to his lips, and then quickly fled, as he was still confused. And being confused is something he never liked to be.
"Seriously Granger," he said, slowly standing and moving over to the sink where she was stacking the clean dishes. "Tell me."
"You wouldn't understand," she said staring over at him incredulously. "You can just go home to Daddy, I'm sure you'll learn about it sooner or later. Probably sooner rather than later."
"Do not bring my father into this," he said firmly. "My father is an honorable..."
He didn't get a chance to finish as her wet hand firmly made contact with his face as she spun to face him. She didn't back down either once he regained control of where his face had turned in the sting of the slap.
"Your father is acunning manipulator and crude servant to the sickest creature to walk the planet. He's no better or worse than I am so I suggest you hold your tongue Malfoy, before you never get the chance to find out for yourself," she sneered. "If you think your father's Crucio hurt, just wait until you feel mine."
His hand rose to the sting on his face as he took in her words. Father had wronged her in some way, and with her accusation of manipulation Draco of course drew the wrong conclusion.
"My father would never bed a Mudblood like you!" he yelled in her face. "Do not..." but he quickly found her wand in his throat.
"You are right of course, he would never sully his bed with the likes of me," she said with a twisted smirk that reminded him briefly of his Aunt Bellatrix.
"All right," he backed up a step. She did not lower her wand.
"Do you know how bad I just wanted to watch you suffer Draco? Do you have any clue how much I wanted you to bleed to death? Do you have any idea how much I would adore for the fever to steal your senses one by one then leave you bereft of your precious pureblood?" She sneered at him. "Of course you don't. You couldn't fathom me feeling such hatred could you. You couldn't fathom what those Death Eaters do in their meetings either. I understand exactly why Snape is the way he is. He has more honor in his pinky finger than you and your father combined. At least Severus doesn't partake of the "pleasures" they all play with. At least Severus doesn't hold them down for the Dark Lord to toy with."
"Do you realize that your pains are only physical and you will survive them with little to no scarring and be able to move on with your miserable existence!" She spat angrily with each word, but her voice never rose above a slight whisper. "You have some nerve daring to portray anything of your father. I helped you survive, fine. I'll not deal with it the rest of my life. If you even so much as dare to call me names, dare to come near me or try to harm me, not only will you answer to me but you'll find yourself answering to your own father. How do you like them apples Draco?"
She turned and stormed out of the room leaving him to stand there bereft of something to say. He had to figure out the puzzle she just laid before him. Answer to his father over harming her? How could...
Realization struck him absolutely dumb. Severus had been replaced; his father would get angry if he hurt the little Mudblood, held down so the Dark Lord could toy with her. It couldn't be true. She had such ferocity when she spoke. Such fire, yet she remained quiet in her tone. She wasn't lying; at least she didn't believe she was lying. His head drooped slightly. The Dark Lord's latest conquest was the one to save him. He would never live this shame down.
"Moping won't fix it, it's my fault she is here boy," he said leaning against the door of the cellar stairs. "I brought her here."
"Why Severus?" he said looking slowly back up at the ceiling. "Why didn't you just let me die?"
"Because I can't let you die, I have no choice but to protect you in any manner I can. And I knew Hermione Granger could, so I had to go get her," he shrugged. "You know that."
"Well now what choice do I have? I owe her. Whether I want to owe her or not, and I am honorable. Unlike my father, I will be an honorable Malfoy," he said turning his stormy gaze to the man he so adored.
"Now you are talking like a man. If you wish to make this up to her I do not suggest talking about it. She deals with it everyday," he replied turning to go back down the stairs. "Oh, and don't bring up Hogwarts to her either. She's the joke of Slytherin, and the tragedy of Gryffindor house. Hufflepuff pities her and Ravenclaw thinks she must have done something wrong to get herself into that position to begin with," he said before descending down the stairs. "Looks like you got your wish Draco."
As much as he hated her, hated all of Gryffindor, he never imagined her surviving a run in with the Dark Lord. He had done a great deal to her apparently. Her death at a Death Eater's hands would have been his wish. He had never been privy to what happened in the inner circle of the Dark Lord's followers. But it was her fault being a muggle born anyway. She was scum under his feet, why should he care? He didn't really. He just didn't feel that fit in with the Malfoy code of honor. That he could understand. Sneering, name calling, hexing even a curse or two, or threats made through veiled means were fine, but rape? That didn't fit. There was something desperately wrong with the scenario.
He heard her walk past him to the cellar stairs and call down them.
"Professor?" she called out.
"Yes Miss Granger?" came the reply.
"I have to go for a while. Do you require anything while I am out?" she called.
"Yes, I need a new cauldron and if you don't mind some Willendor Root and as much of the Boomslang Skin you get your hands on Miss Granger," he called up. Hermione turned from the door and looked at Draco.
"Crookshanks will alert you if any wizards other than myself come near the house. There is a port key in the vase by the back door that will take you somewhere safe if that occurs. Oh, and here," she said reaching into her robes. She drew out his wand and tossed it to him. "Courtesy of Fenrir Greyback, I'll thank him for you next time they come to get me."
He caught his wand and instinctively flipped it around in his hand before looking back at her with a sharp glare.
"He knows!" he said sharply.
"Absolutely not," she said flipping her hair over her shoulder. "But I'll see him before you do, hopefully. And as long as I don't lose his Majesty's interest, Greyback and his cronies won't touch me. I'm only allowed to be shared with the Dark Lord's finest, don't you know?" She spat at him and stormed out of the front door.
The slam of the door shook him slightly as he made his way to the cellar stairs. Looking down them he could see the familiar glow of a cauldron and new Snape was working. Instead he made his way to his room. Tired from the night's events and even more tired trying to come to terms with all of them.