a/n - Another long chapter! Not many chapters left! Thank you all again for the reviews. With any luck, the next chapter will be finished sooner than a week, but I make no promises! Enjoy!
Chapter 10
The hostel was seedy to say the least. Layers of cigarette residue and years of filth obscured the wallpaper, which may have been green in some decade long passed. As they climbed to the second floor, the stairs creaked perilously underfoot, giving Hermione the distinct impression that someday very soon someone would end up in the basement without taking the stairs.
"This is nice," Hermione observed as they reached the door to Snape's room. She wrinkled her nose against the unmistakable smell of urine when she added, "You could have found someplace better."
"Well, I haven't been here a great deal since I arrived," he replied as he pushed open the door.
Smirking, she entered first, examining the small room.
It was nothing more than a twin bed, a window, and a steel grey concrete floor. The windowsill held at least half a dozen plants, all exhibiting exquisite, deep blue flowers she had never before seen. Entranced by their beauty, Hermione crossed to the window, reaching out her hand to touch them, but an elastic, nearly invisible bubble blocked her hand.
Snape was chuckling behind her. "It's an artificial habitat. It's sufficient for the rest of my plants, but these must be hand watered every third day while they bloom near sunrise. They're fussy like you."
She was admiring their blue-green leaves and intricately pedaled flowers when Snape's laugh again interrupted her.
"What's funny?" she asked.
"You're still poking my habitat," he answered.
Realizing he was right, she giggled softly and dropped her hand. Taking a seat on the bed, she watched Snape take down the barrier with a quick wand wave before he took the small copper watering can from the sill. Painstakingly, he tipped the can into each pot, taking care not to splatter water on the leaves. When he finished, another dexterous wave restored the bubble before beginning to collect some books from his luggage.
"What are those?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her after he failed to offer the information.
He stiffened slightly at her words. "Do you know the name of the plant Fecund is derived from?" he asked, instantly reminding her of the Professor he once was.
"Trilorian," she answered quickly, "the species native to Africa."
"Very good," he answered, his back to her as he placed the books and a few sheaves of parchment into a satchel.
She was perplexed. African Trilorian was nearly impossible to keep, let alone grow outside of a select stretch of rainforest in Madagascar.
"That can't be," she said with uncertainty. "It would take a miracle to keep those alive."
"How else do you think I produced the Fecund?" he countered, again in his best Professor voice, but lacking the spite so imprinted in her memory of him.
"I assumed you Apparated there like everyone else," she answered, just before remembering him harvest the leaves her first morning at his apartment. The other plants must have hidden the flowers that day.
"Not unless I wanted a splitting headache and a nosebleed," he replied sarcastically. "There are those with the time and knowledge to grow them," he added as he closed the bag and turned to her with a smile. "You aren't bothered that I kept them, then?"
"Of course not," she gasped. "I can't imagine how much work they took to grow, and you aren't using them, right?"
"No," he answered with a chuckle. "Not unless I need a poison."
Hermione laughed, "Do you poison people often?"
"Not anymore," he replied. "If you're ready, I have everything."
He picked up the bag and motioned toward the door. As she caught up, she looked again at the desolate room and was quite glad that he hadn't had to sleep there.
"Wait," she said as they were almost to the door. "Why don't you take my key and bring your things to my apartment. You can stay there while you're here. I don't mean move in or anything, just keep your things there…and sleep there…of course you've already done that…it would be temporary…until you go home…" She finally took a breath when Snape started to laugh.
"Are you sure that's wise?" he asked, an amused look on his face. "When you tire of me, I'll have nowhere to go."
Laughing, she cuffed him on the arm. "When I tire of you, I'll send you to the couch."
He smirked, "You most certainly will not. That thing is more aptly classified as a medieval torture device."
"It's just a suggestion," she said quickly.
"This could take months," he said quite seriously. The longer the conversation went on, the more anxious he began to look.
"Then you should find someplace better," she told him. "And you could do that perfectly well from my place."
Hermione steeled herself as the unexpected panic struck. She didn't know why she was pushing the issue, and she hadn't considered the consequences when she made the suggestion. Without warning, she suddenly wanted him to say no so that she wouldn't have to deal with those consequences, which were not limited to explaining to Ron or her parents should they drop in, besides allowing another person such access into her life. Even after three years with Ron, she had never let him stay more than a couple of nights in a row before insisting that she had some important work to do just to get him to leave. Nevertheless, she was hip deep in the persuasion now and backing out would look insincere. Snape's next words provided a brief reprieve from the dilemma.
"Mr. Potter will awake soon," he said, his eyes searching hers. "It would be bad form to keep him waiting."
"You're right," she said, grasping onto the excuse. "We can talk about it later…or not…whatever."
Leading the way into the hall, Hermione enjoyed the silent walk out of the building and down the street, until the silence became awkwardly pregnant. The silence was not unlike that she had felt on their walk to the café in Mandeville. Walking at arm's length, they had made it half way to the hospital when Hermione was again prepared to put an end to it. However, Snape saved her the trouble.
"Stop," he said, halting at her side. From her vantage point, she could see his brow was furrowed. Without looking at her, he continued. "You don't understand." He cleared his throat almost nervously before adding, "This is preposterous."
Disturbed by having instigated the situation, she tried to explain. "I shouldn't have asked like that. Don't think that because we slept together I'm going to cling. I'm not clingy, really. I like my space…just like you…and we've only been on speaking terms for what, four days?"
While she rambled, Snape laughed, setting his bag on the sidewalk before turning toward her and placing one hand on her shoulder and the other over her mouth. Stunned by the gesture, yet glad he took the initiative to shut her up, she smiled against his palm and looked into his now smirking face.
He hesitated on a word more than once, obviously searching for words, something Hermione had never seen him do quite so vehemently.
Finally, he said softly, "I've laughed more in those four days…" He trailed off as he took his hand from her mouth and put it on her other shoulder. "Whatever this is, I don't want to ruin it."
Stunned by the simple statement that said so much, she put her hand on his chest to discover his heart racing beneath. It was then that she realized how difficult it was for him to say such things. She tried to reply, but he stopped her.
"You should know," he said quietly, "that it worried me to have you suddenly so far away."
The openness of the declaration left Hermione without reply. The wispy ripple in her stomach and his genuine eyes left her astonished as well.
"To settle the matter," he went on in nearly a whisper, "I will keep the room for whatever purpose. However, wherever I find myself, should I be invited, is where I'll stay."
Hermione could only nod as the smile spread across her face, gratified by glimpsing yet another facet to the man. He slid his hands to her neck and leaned in for a kiss. His lips were casual, sweet, and possibly an ounce timid.
When he drew away, he laughed quietly and retrieved his bag before saying in the usual offhand tone, "If you are quite finished babbling, we really should be going."
Laughing at his segue, she replied, "You know, Ron hasn't shown up yet. That has to be some kind of record."
Snape chuckled as they started back down the street, "Why do you think I stopped before the hospital? No doubt, Weasley's there now, waiting to jump out should an opportunity present itself."
"I'm fairly sure it's his new hobby," she said dryly.
"It is a pity that he was too late to hear the fruits of my labor," he replied evenly.
When Hermione looked up, her face becoming warm at the thought, she saw him rubbing a hand across the no doubt still maturing bruise on his chest making her blush that much more.
When he looked forward, he sighed, "Of course, Mr. Weasley."
"Oh very funny," she said before herself looking ahead only to see Ron running toward them.
"Thank god," he panted when he reached them. "I was coming to find you. We can't wake Harry!"
Immediately concerned, Hermione looked to Snape, who appeared as collected as usual.
"Calm yourself boy," he said coolly. "Potter will wake when the potion has finished its job, which I assume will be soon considering how long he's been afflicted."
"You assume?" Ron asked in a shrill voice.
Hermione tried her best not to smile in anticipation of Snape's response.
"I assume, Mr. Weasley, that my calculations are accurate," Snape replied in a frigid tone. "Taking into account that they practically always are, I am quite secure in my assumption."
"Well then," Ron said with a diffident smile, "don't mind me." Looking to Hermione, he added quickly, "I'll go see if Harry's up yet."
With a faint laugh, Ron retreated briskly down the street and disappeared through the barrier into the hospital.
"I think he's reverted to being a little scared of you," Hermione observed.
"I like him better that way," Snape said lowly before chuckling himself.
As they made their way through the hospital, Hermione listened closely as Snape instructed her on the day's strategy.
"You may begin the regeneration as soon as Potter is awake. Only then will the healing work properly. I need to begin research on the next curse so you will have to work alone, unless you would prefer to ask one of yesterday's morons to assist, though I trust you won't. Do you have any questions?" he asked as soon as they reached Harry's door.
"No," she answered, smiling at his professionalism. "I can handle it on my own."
"I know you can," he said as he started past her.
"Wait a second," she said, taking his arm. "You're just going to leave without saying goodbye?"
She saw the smile trace his lips before his expression became abruptly stern.
"While we work," he said softly, "it would be sensible to maintain a certain level of decorum."
"Of course," she replied, taken back by his reticence.
As he continued past, she felt the distinctive squeeze of his hand on her bottom as he departed.
Laughing, she spun around and called down the mercifully deserted hallway, "You're evil."
"You're not the first to say so," he replied, glancing back with a grin before vanishing down the corridor leading to the potions lab.
As she entered Harry's room, she closed the door and muttered, "I'll get you back for that."
"For what?" Ron asked, startling her as he walked around the curtain circling the bed.
"Nothing," she replied with a sigh as she approached the bed. "Is he up yet?"
"He just came to," Ron answered as he stepped away to allow her past.
Harry was sitting up and appeared alert, pointing to the parchment in his lap. "I already feel better," it read.
"Good, but you'll feel much better soon." She looked to Ron who was peering just over her shoulder. "I'll need to start soon. I can give you a few more minutes if you like."
"No," Ron replied. "I'll come back later. I have homework." He turned to Harry, adding, "See you tonight, then."
Harry nodded as Ron hurried from the room. She watched him leave, puzzled by his haste. When she looked back, Harry was wearing a perceptive grin and was again pointing at his parchment.
"He ran into Lavender Brown last night," was all it said but Harry's grin conveyed the story.
"Ron did?" she asked before comprehension struck. "He was coming over to tell me about it this morning, wasn't he?"
Harry scribbled, "Except he found Snape."
Unable to stop her laugh of embarrassment, and a bit of relief having learned that Ron wasn't wallowing, she watched Harry start writing again.
"Who was there working…in your bedroom…where you keep your books?" The last three words were underlined three times.
She giggled, "But if Ron was coming to tell me about Lavender, then why did he get mad when he saw Severus?"
Smiling even wider, Harry scrawled, "Because he's Ron. He got jealous, and now he's guilty about Lavender."
"What for?" Hermione asked before adding quickly, "Because he thinks I'm not with Severus now."
Nodding, Harry wrote, "So?" He underlined this three times as well.
"So what?" she asked as unwittingly as possible.
"What's going on with you and SNAPE?" This time he circled it.
She only shrugged and laughed, finding the situation too new to discuss. Deciding the conversation had gone far enough, she began turning down his covers to prepare for the treatment. She was sure Harry knew the drill. The regeneration spell had been administered dozens of times before.
"THAT says plenty," was the last note, which he held in front of her face before he put the parchment on the bedside table.
Hermione laughed, drawing her wand, "How do you know everything?"
Smiling, he shrugged as he stretched out on the bed in preparation for the treatment.
Though she asked, Hermione knew why Harry was so insightful. Since he couldn't do anything else, he observed everyone very closely and in doing so developed quite a keen eye for people. That was going to come in very handy after he healed, she thought as she began with his legs, casting the spells meticulously on each muscle.
It was tedious work, but not terribly difficult. As each spell reached its destination, the muscle contracted and relaxed, which was fortunately painless. When she finished, Harry would have to drink a potion that would initiate the spells and cause the muscles to strengthen and expand. If Snape's potion worked, that process would be quite painful. All previous attempts had left Harry pain free when the spells failed to initiate. It felt odd to hope for pain. Pain in this instance would mean progress, and imminently Harry's full recovery. With any luck, that pain would be some of the last Harry would ever have to suffer because of Voldemort.
>
Finding the potions lab again was easy enough. Getting everyone out was another story. Though it was Saturday, the room was busy with healers and apprentices working to brew the potions for the hospital. Snape felt a twinge of guilt at tossing them out, thinking that he could find another suitable room in which simply to read, but he missed spending time in a real potions laboratory and their work could wait.
Anticipating some of Voldemort's original handiwork, Snape brought along every parchment and what few books he had managed to save from his days with the Death Eaters. One of those many pages may well contain the detail he hoped would shed light on a cure, if not merely something to extend Harry's life.
As he spread the papers across one of the long oak tables, Snape thought about Hermione's impromptu offer. He had lived alone since sixteen, choosing to remain alone against the advice of Dumbledore and every other adult in his life. That trend carried into adulthood, having never had the peace of mind or the inclination to permit such a frivolous indulgence after joining the Death Eaters and then turning spy. It seemed unfair to saddle anyone with the danger or the nuisance, not that he had a plethora of proposals anyway.
Realizing with a hefty sigh that this line of thought was only making him feel worse, he refocused on the parchments, many scribbled in a hurried hand while taking notes as Voldemort blathered about one scheme or another. Snape flipped with care to the dates that would concern the Evaste Spiritus curse.
Voldemort was convinced that he could invent a curse to rival that of Avada Kedavra, a curse combining misery and excruciating pain with a guaranteed kill. The closest that he ever came was Evaste Spiritus. The curse was from the darkest magic, creating a cloud of noxious gas, which formed a cloud of microscopic particles in the air. When inhaled, it affected the lungs instantly, though it also appeared to absorb through the mucus membranes, passing into the blood and affecting the cells. Not only did the curse affect lung function, gradually weakening the tissue, but it also diminished the bloods capacity to carry oxygen through the body, amplifying the symptoms. The curse acted by slowly asphyxiating the victim, leading to an unavoidable, agonizing death. The people Voldemort chose as test subjects succumb after only three months, less than one quarter of the time Harry had managed to survive.
Finally locating the appropriate few pages, Snape scanned them for any reference to the base incantation, the theory, the structure, but all he found were notes on the devastation it caused with nothing about the why or the how. He tried fruitlessly to recollect details of those days, but the war split Snape's concentration in so many directions that he could only recall those same broad strokes that the notes retold.
Giving up on the notes, he moved to the books, wondering even as he read how any book could assist against a curse that no one else knew existed. All the while, his mind kept drifting back to why Potter was still alive. Snape went back over all the treatments, the order of their application, the phase of the moon the day of the therapy, but nothing gave a hint.
Engrossed in his research, it wasn't until the sun began to glare through the windows that he realized how late it was. The lab was on the west end of the facility, so it had to be nearing two in the afternoon. Checking his watch, he found that it was closer to three. The time emphasized the discomfort in his neck and back from sitting hunched over the material for so long. He stood to stretch the taught muscles just as the door opened. Glancing over, he saw Hermione enter, carrying a much-appreciated cup of coffee in addition to her equally uplifting company.
"I come bearing the gift of caffeine," she announced with a smile. "I see you've successfully cleared the room again."
He returned the smile as he said, "They couldn't stand my singing."
She laughed as she handed him the coffee, "Tell me you're joking, because I would be terribly upset to have missed that."
"I don't sing," he replied with a chuckle as he retook his seat, finding the mediocre hospital coffee better than he expected. Hermione took the seat beside him.
"Have you made any progress?" she asked as she sat.
He considered coloring the information for a second before answering, "At the moment, I'm at a loss."
"If it's any consolation, the regeneration worked very well," she said happily. "I let him go long enough to know the potion was working before giving him a diluted sleep potion to get him through the worst of the pain. He should be awake in about half an hour and I can't wait to see him look normal again."
"That is good news," Snape replied, pleased as much with the success as her glowing spirit. "I could do with one less worry at the moment."
"Is this curse proving more difficult than you anticipated?" she asked softly.
"No," he answered quickly, thinking to himself that the situation was still as impossible as it had been. Taking her penetrating gaze as an indication she wished to know more, he decided not to sugarcoat the news. She would demand further information soon enough and he was only wasting time and slighting her intelligence by trying to shield her.
"Are you planning to elaborate?" she asked, eyeing him judiciously.
"Eventually," he replied, staring into her curious eyes. Unable to think of a way to avoid it, he set down his cup and reluctantly continued, "This curse is insidious, eating away at the tissues and assailing the respiratory and circulatory systems, slowly stealing the body of oxygen. All other victims died within a few months making the simple fact that Harry remains alive a mystery."
Her expression didn't change as she asked, "Were you planning to ever share that information with me?"
"Eventually," he answered honestly. "Of course, I had hoped to have better news to follow it rather than more uncertainty."
"I understand…I do," she replied quietly, her voice taking on a dull quality. Snape was sure her mind was busy trying to digest the information. "What do we do?"
"First, we figure out why he is still alive," he said, fighting down the lament at having to impart the distressing information. "I think we should speak with Harry as soon as he wakes to ask if he has been taking anything besides his prescribed medication."
"He hasn't," she stated flatly. "He would've told me."
"People in desperate situations do many things that they normally wouldn't consider," he told her.
"What about his treatments?" she suggested. "Perhaps one of them…"
Snape cut her off, "I've considered every angle, and this is the next feasible hypothesis."
She shook her head as she said, "I don't think he would do anything to jeopardize his treatment. He knows better than to take something…"
"He's dying," Snape interjected. "He would do anything."
"You don't know that," she retorted.
Frustrated by her conviction, he interrupted, "I know what it is to think you're approaching death, and it is a uniquely frightening frame of mind. You consider doing things you would have never dreamed doing. Hermione, this is the only clue we have, seeing as the information we need died with Voldemort. Unless we solve this, Harry is going to die."
"I know," she said, all the confidence gone from her voice. If Snape had learned anything thus far, her eyes were nearly watery enough that she would soon be holding her breath.
"I didn't say that to upset you," he tried to soothe. "We have to be on the same page."
"I tried not to get my hopes up, you know?" she replied, her voice strained. "But after you remedied the other curse so quickly...I should have come to you sooner." The tears were beginning to well as she looked down at the floor.
"I should have inquired to his condition sooner," he offered, sliding toward her and placing his hands on her knees. "Perhaps the damage wouldn't be so advanced, we'd have more time, but I never once thought that my help would be wanted. Truth be told, he should have died long before I went to prison, and you certainly wouldn't have wanted my help then, not when I was still a raving, murderous traitor."
She glanced up, the corners of her mouth giving the tiniest twitch.
"You remember, don't you?" he went on. "When I was a vile, blood-thirsty scoundrel?"
"No you weren't," she said quietly as she smiled.
"Now you know that," he replied. "Then, you would have killed me on sight."
"I only would have hurt you…a little," she countered, putting her arms promptly around his neck.
"Do you feel better?" he asked, returning the embrace.
"Yes," she answered, her voice muffled by his shoulder. "Thank you for changing the subject."
"You're welcome," he replied before hearing a faint knock at the door.
Hermione pulled away, giggling, "Ron must have finished his homework."
The knock sounded again as Snape laughed.
"What?" he called to the door.
The face of the dark-haired healer poked around the corner. Flannigan was his name, Snape recalled as he smirked at the surprisingly non-Weasley disruption.
The man donned a slick smile before saying, "I thought you would want to know Harry's awake."
"Thank you," Snape said as he turned back to Hermione. "Are you ready?"
"Let's get on with it," she sighed as she stood, heading toward the door.
Snape followed--surprised to see Flannigan still hovering at the door. Irritation superseded the surprise when Hermione reached the door. Flannigan put an arm around her shoulders, guiding her into the hall as he leaned in, whispering something to her just before Snape reached them.
Hermione hastily doubled back, putting Snape in the middle as all three marched silently down the corridor. Snape's irritation was not fading, but rising quite quickly into anger as he wondered what could possibly give Flannigan the right. Brief glimpses of an interoffice romance flitted through his mind, along with the reality that the man was a great deal closer to her age. The more Snape ruminated on the idea, the more he detested the young man. As they turned the corner onto the next ward, Flannigan's simpering voice stole Snape from his thoughts.
"Severus," he began, "whatever you're doing with Harry is working wonders. He looks great."
"I know," Snape replied, his voice steeped with loathing. "But thank you for attempting to kiss my ass."
He heard Hermione snort before she stated with remarkable sarcasm, "I don't think he was trying to kiss your ass, Severus. He would have to pull his head out of his own to do that."
"You know, I do believe you're right," Snape told her as they arrived at their destination.
He allowed Hermione to enter first and then turned to prevent Flannigan from entering. Snape had to smirk at the insulted look on the young man's face.
"That will be all, Mr. Finnegan," Snape said as he gave the door a shove.
"It's Flannigan," the man corrected.
"Whatever," Snape replied just as the door closed whilst Hermione snickered at his side. "Does he do that often?" Snape asked her.
"Get all cuddly?" she replied perceptively. "He's been trying to get me to go out with him for ages. This time though, he wanted to commend me on being able to tolerate you. He's quite unhappy about having been shoved to the wayside."
"I can give him other things to be unhappy about," Snape said harshly as he looked down at Hermione, who was staring back with a cunning smile.
She laughed quietly before saying, "You're jealous."
"No," he defended quickly. "I found him rude."
"Because he put his arm around me?" she asked, her eyes begging him to play.
"Because he has no reason to handle you in that way," Snape replied, attempting to keep his face impassive against her temptation.
She laughed again before asking, "And you do?"
"I have reason and permission," he answered lowly. Her mischievous grin goaded him into adding, "And the bruises to prove it." As soon as he uttered the words, he remembered with mild panic where he was, standing just inside the door of Potter's room.
"Decorum Severus," Hermione admonished with a mischievous grin.
Wanting desperately to be angry, but finding himself enamored far more than was appropriate for the situation, he leaned down to whisper his next words.
"You have no idea what you've started."
When he straightened up, smirking despite her cleverly crafted revenge, he took pleasure in her curious stare. Snape glancing toward the bed, finding the curtain pulled back, giving Harry a clear view of the entire exchange.
"Mr. Potter," Snape said evenly, walking quickly toward the grinning boy. "I hope you enjoyed the show."
Nodding his reply, Harry looked much healthier, alleviating a few of Snape's concerns. Though still skinny, his face had filled out and his arms lying atop the blankets no longer appeared emaciated and frail. If the regeneration worked so well then he may not be as sick as Snape initially thought.
When he reached the bedside, Snape asked, "I trust you will not speak of anything you overheard?"
"He hasn't spoken at all since you told him not to," Hermione replied, joining them on the opposite side of the bed.
Harry quickly held up a note saying, "Can I write it down?"
"No," Snape answered, glaring from the smirking boy to the giggling Hermione. "We have serious business to attend to. I need to ask you something Mr. Potter, and it is in your best interest to be honest."
Nodding, Harry readied his quill and parchment.
"What have you been taking besides your regular medications?" Snape asked pointblank. When Harry began shaking his head, Snape added, "Before you fervently deny, you should know that I believe whatever it is has saved your life thus far. We need to know what it is before we can proceed."
Eyes wide with mingled fear and appreciation, Harry glanced from the parchment to Snape, finally resting his eyes on Hermione.
"I'm not mad at you," she told him softly. "We need to know so we can make you well."
Very slowly, Harry began writing after drawing his knees up, obstructing their view. He hesitated for a moment, finally holding out the note to Hermione.
She gave an astonished laugh as she said, "This shouldn't give you any trouble."
"Why's that?" Snape asked.
Shaking her head, she answered, "Because it's Fecund."