Warning

This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.

Chapter 20 - Broken Glass

Hermione had so many emotions going through her that she barely knew what to think or say. The people in this room with her were three of the most important people in her life. Apart from her parents, there was no-one that she could love more. And yet, everything was in such a mess for all of them. Severus was not badly hurt, but there was blood running from his nose, and she was worried about the way his head had hit the cabinet. His breathing beside her was heavy, as he glared at Harry, controlling himself only for her benefit. Harry's eye was swollen and bloody, and would probably turn black very quickly.

But the worst injuries were those done to both Ron and Harry by finding out this way. Both looked horrified at what they had seen, and were staring, open-mouthed as she turned to face them.

"Hermione," it was Ron who was the first to confront her about the truth, "is this who you've been seeing?" The hurt and confusion in his eyes were painful to her.

She took a deep breath. "Yes. We've been seeing each other for about a month." Saying it quickly didn't make it any easier.

"And you didn't tell us?" Harry had been staring at the floor, but the anger in his voice was matched by that in his eyes as he suddenly looked up at her.

The reaction was to be expected, she supposed, but it hurt, nonetheless. "I hated not telling you," she whispered, feeling tears begin to sting the back of her eyes.

Ron was staring at Snape, as though the very sight of him made him sick. "We were worried about you," he said, speaking to Hermione, but his gaze not leaving the teacher. "We knew you were up to something, but... "

Harry interrupted him "... but we had no idea about how much you were lying to us!" he snapped, bitterly. He was still leaning on the edge of the desk, mirroring Snape's posture, as though they were facing each other off in a challenge. And so they still were - if not in physical combat. Hermione could see the white of his knuckles as he gripped the desk, and, nervously, she noted the same thing in the man beside her. The air was thick with tension, and she knew that she had to get the three of them apart before things got worse. Part of her told herself that they needed to talk about what had happened and clear the air a little, but what good was that if they ended up fighting again?

She moved between Severus and Harry, trying, somehow, to dampen the explosive reaction between them. Harry scowled as she stepped towards him, but she ignored it. "We should go to the infirmary," she said firmly. "Your eye needs treatment." Harry showed no inclination to move. She reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled it away.

"I'm fine," he snapped.

Again, the sting of tears, but she held them back. "Harry," she pleaded, but faltered, not knowing what else to say.

Ron finally dragged his gaze away from Snape to help her. "Yeah, Harry," he muttered. "Let's go."

Harry slowly stood, and for a moment, Hermione thought he was going to lunge for Severus again. The hatred in his expression was clear as he stared angrily at him. Snape's unblinking eyes returned the emotion, and the lock was only broken when Hermione once again stepped between them.

Steering Harry out of the door, with Ron, Hermione turned back to Snape and gave him a small smile. "I'll be back soon," she mouthed silently. He gave her a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgement, but his focus was still on Harry as he was ushered out of the room.

Hermione paused in the doorway, looking back at him. The anger boiling inside him was frightening, and the fact that he had not said a word since the fight scared her, but she knew she could not leave Harry for the moment. She would hurry back.

Snape tried to calm himself as Hermione's hand reached up to touch his face, brushing the hair out of his eyes. The blow to his head on the cabinet had been quite something - more than he would have thought Potter capable of.

He felt a smug satisfaction as Potter faltered in his words to Hermione. The two boys were staring at them, dumfounded, as Hermione reached up to kiss his cheek. "Severus, you're hurt." Her voice was full of concern and, in spite of everything that was going on, he felt a brief flutter in his chest at seeing the love in her eyes.

But the fury inside him was forcing all other emotions out of his mind. He forced it under control and stared, unblinking, at Potter.

They were talking - Hermione, Potter and Weasley - but he was not listening to the words. Dimly, he was aware of the hatred focused on him by the two boys, and then of Hermione's voice, urging them to the infirmary. Yes - that was the best thing - get them out of here!

Hermione was leaving, and his stomach twisted as he saw her go, but just this once, his yearning for her was tempered with relief. The anger was on the point of surfacing, and he did not want her anywhere near him. She had seen enough of the darker side of him. He couldn't make her deal with that - especially when his anger was directed against the two people whom he knew she loved so dearly.

They were gone. He was alone.

For a full ten minutes, he did not move. The silence around him seemed to freeze his being, and he could neither think nor feel anything.

When he finally moved, his actions surprised even himself. In a sudden burst of rage, he grasped the nearest thing to hand - a large bottle from the floor, which had somehow survived the destruction of the potions cabinet - and spun around, hurling it at the far wall of the classroom.

It was an indescribable feeling - the hatred and rage burning him, with no power to control them. And yet, the image that he saw in his mind was not that of Potter's face, as he would have expected, but of himself and Hermione. It was that terrible night, and he was staring down into her terrified and tear stained face - his blissful pleasure turning to loathing of himself as he realized what he had done to her.

That was where his rage lay - at the fact that, although Potter had misunderstood the situation, when he had grabbed Hermione in lustful play, the boy's anger was totally justified. Not for what he had done tonight, but what did that matter. He deserved what had happened, and far more. Perhaps he should not have defended himself, and let himself take a beating from the boy.

But still - he couldn't help but despise him. Everything about him reminded him of the boy's father. As though emphasizing this, his gaze fell on the hazy shape of the invisibility cloak, still on the floor where it had been cast aside. A fresh wave of anger swelled in him, and he reached for another unbroken bottle, hurling it with all his strength in the direction that the three students had just left.

It hit the stone a little above the doorway, and Albus Dumbledore calmly stepped into the classroom, out of the way of the flying shards of glass and dripping liquid.