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 42 – Repercussions

For several seconds, nobody said a word.

Snape, ignoring the amazed expressions of his colleagues, turned his attention back to Hermione, looking into her face for any sign to tell him how badly she was hurt.

Finally, the silence was broken by Dumbledore. "I believe that Miss Granger requires your assistance, Poppy," he said softly to the Matron, who shook herself and hurried forward. She knelt at the other side of the stone bench, opposite Snape, with Hermione between them, but as she reached out to support her head, it became clear that Snape had no intention of relinquishing his hold on the girl, and the witch stopped, uncertainly.

"Severus, I need to give her this," she frowned, indicating a small blue bottle. Snape calmly reached out with his free hand, and pried the bottle from her reluctant fingers.

Professor McGonagall now spoke up, also addressing the Matron. "It appears that Severus is in need of your care, also, Poppy," she said, grimly. "He seems to be experiencing some rather powerful effects from his exposure to the charms in the tunnels."

Snape touched the blue bottle to Hermione's lips, and gently poured a few drops into her mouth. "My behavior has nothing to do with spells, Minerva," he said, simply, his eyes never leaving Hermione's face. "I am in love with Hermione."

The response of the deputy head was immediate and shocked. "Don't be ridiculous, Severus," she gasped in amazement. "She is a student."

"I am aware of that," he growled.

Before she could respond, Professor Dumbledore stepped forward, cutting off the response she was attempting to form. "This conversation would be best postponed until the students have been treated," he said firmly. "Let us not forget why we are here."

Three stretchers had already been conjured by Madam Pomfrey, and hung midair, in the center of the chamber. "Thank you, Headmaster," she said, pleased that not everyone was standing around in shock, while there were injured students to be taken care of.

All at once, the onlookers bustled into action.

Professor Flitwick hurried forward to assist Madam Pomfrey in getting Harry and Ron onto stretchers; Professor McGonagall took Ginny by the arm, leading her towards the door; and Professor Dumbledore, stepping past Snape without any clue as to his feelings now that the truth was out, went to assist the still-dazed Madam Hooch.

Gathering Hermione into his arms once again, Snape stood. Hagrid had hurried to grab a stretcher, and steered it towards the Potions Master, but Snape pushed it irritably out of his way. McGonagall and the Weasley girl were ahead of him, standing in the doorway, waiting to accompany the stretchers of Harry and Ron to the Hospital Wing. Both quickly stepped aside to allow him to pass, and his gaze first met that of the elder – shocked and angry – then the younger – too upset over her brother, boyfriend and friend to betray much of a reaction to the behavior of the teacher. As he left the chamber, he could hear, behind him, the voices of the last few teachers returning from the search, led by the ghosts. What would they be told, he wondered?

Not waiting to find out, he strode ahead, with Hermione in his arms.

Despite his insistence to himself that the reaction of the other staff was irrelevant, he knew it not to be true. Personally, he cared nothing for their opinion of him or of his behavior, but if they so chose, they could make things very difficult for Hermione and himself. When Minerva McGonagall had suggested that he was under the influence of the spells from the tunnels, he had, for a moment, considered allowing her theory to stand, but he had quickly dismissed the idea. It would have been plausible enough, true, but it was time for the deception to stop. He loved Hermione, and wanted the world to know it. There had been too many lies told, too many evasions and half-truths. Their relationship deserved better than that. Besides, now that he had been seen to kiss Hermione, his every move would be scrutinized from now on, even if he did manage to convince them that it had meant nothing. Every time he mentioned her name, and ever time she went to the dungeon to work on her project, people would remember, and questions would be asked.

No – the truth was the best option and, despite the difficulties it would bring, it was a relief.

A terrible thought drifted into his mind. A few hours ago, he had been convinced that Hermione would never marry him, and that situation had not changed. If he had decided to let the staff know about them, he could have chosen a better time – a time when he was sure of Hermione's feelings. In all probability, Hermione would tell him that she could not marry him, and all the pending aggravation with the other staff would be for nothing. Fine time to worry about that now, he chided himself. You should have thought of this before kissing her in public.

A movement from Hermione brought his attention to her face as he carried her. She was stirring, but there was no sign of her being aware of her surroundings. She mumbled something incoherently, then let out a soft cry that reached his ears like a knife piercing his heart. She sounded so lost and frightened – he wanted to take all the fear away from her, and let her know nothing but happiness.

"Everything will be okay, Hermione," he whispered, softly, holding her tightly as he continued on his way through the castle. Whether in response to his words, or his tone, or simply a coincidence of timing, he did not know, but Hermione turned slightly in his arms, and buried her face against his shoulder. Her small hand reached up to grip his robes, the knuckles white as she held them.

She looked so young and defenseless. He wanted nothing more in the world than to love her and protect her, and to have her love him in return. Whatever it took, and whatever the obstacles, he had to spend his life with her.

He had, at last, reached the Hospital Wing, and opened the door with a single word. It was only as he laid Hermione tenderly on a bed that he realized just how tired he was, himself. His robes were still in her grip, and he summoned a chair, unwilling to pull away from her. Placing a hand over hers, he studied her face. Now that she was out of the tunnels, the best thing to do was to let her rest and give her time to pull herself out of the grip of the spells that had held her. With nothing more that he could do for the time being, he leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on the edge of the bed, and allowed his eyes to close. He had slept little on Friday night, waiting for the promised meeting on Saturday, and it was now the early hours of Sunday morning. Following on from the stressful and worrying week, the events of the weekend were more than his body could stand, and he could hold out no longer. Within a few minutes, he was asleep, lulled by the faint but rhythmic breathing of the girl on the bed.

- - -

Darkness

At the edge of Hermione's consciousness, she became half aware of the blackness about her. It was as though nothing existed – simply emptiness. A vast, open vacuum of nothingness.

She was cold.

Alone.

What might have been a scream tried to escape her. She was panicking – reaching out for something. Anything.

Fear brought her almost to the brink of consciousness – enough to sense something – no someone – close to her. A comforting presence.

A soft cry found its way out of her, but she heard nothing. Frantically, mind and body reached out to clutch at the presence, and she felt warmth about her. Her fingers found something solid and real, and she clasped it with all her strength, afraid that it might slip away, or dissolve into shadow.

Almost instantly, as the touch dulled the edge of her panic, the emptiness about her took told, and she slipped back into darkness.

- - -

Snape woke with a start.

The scene around him had changed. Two more beds were occupied, and the young Weasley girl sat between them, looking as though she had spent several hours crying. She was watching him as he lifted his head, and somehow it made him feel self-conscious in a way that he knew McGonagall or any other member of staff would not. Her gaze was neither accusing nor judging – she was simply studying him.

Hiding his discomfort at the attention, he looked down at Hermione. There was no sign of change, and she seemed to be sleeping peacefully, still oblivious to her surroundings. He knew it was a good sign – Poppy Pomfrey had said that she would need rest – but he was longing to see her open her eyes. Regretfully, he tore himself away from her, and looked up to meet the watching eyes of her friend.

"You're Hermione's boyfriend," she said simply.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Hardly the word I would have chosen, Ms. Weasley," he responded in a low rumble, "but correct, nonetheless."

"Don't you think you're too old for her?"

Her forthrightness surprised him, and he felt a little annoyed at himself that she was managing to make him feel so uncomfortable. "Ms. Granger does not seem to think so," he frowned. "Not that it is any of your business."

The girl shrugged. "I suppose not."

She turned her attention to the room's other occupants – first her brother, then Potter.

Unable to resist the jibe, Snape smirked. "It would appear that you prefer older men, yourself!"

Snape watched in satisfied amusement, as her face flushed red, but then regretted his remark immediately, when he saw her face crumple, and her eyes fill with tears. Proud of yourself, he demanded? Hardly up to your usual standard – bullying someone so defenseless. You usually at least have the decency to make sure that they deserve it, or that they will learn from it. Angry at the fact that he had taken such petty pleasure from her hurt reaction, he searched for a way out. Obviously, whatever she saw in the Potter boy – and he could not imagine what that could be – could not match what he felt for Hermione, but the girl was still in pain. He felt, at some level, an affinity with her, and taking out his frustration at his own weakness on her should be beneath him.

Reaching for his wand, he gave a flick, and a bar of chocolate materialized on the table beside her brother's bed. "Eat," he commanded, gruffly. "You need it."

She seemed startled by the incongruence of his actions and manner, but nodded, reaching for the bar. Then it was the Potions Master's turn to be caught off guard, as she broke the bar in two, and tossed one towards him.

"Looks like you need this as much as I do," she sniffed. Her head was bent, and there were tears running down her face as she nibbled the chocolate. Snape took a bite, unsure of what to say. In the whole school, there were few people who would be less able to cope with a crying child than he.

"Any change in the patients?" he asked, awkwardly.

She shook her head. "Madam Pomfrey said they'd sleep for hours."

Frustrated at not being able to do anything useful, he stood. He hated to leave Hermione, but he had to find out more from the matron about her condition. He was not particularly happy to hear that she had gone to the staff room, but the girl informed him that there were two ghost nurses who could summon her quickly, if required. Relieved to be getting away from the student, and assured that she would call for him at the slightest sign of change, he told her he would be back soon, and stepped out of the ward.

- - -

Out in the corridor, he paused to wonder how long he had slept. Judging form the number of students about, he guessed that it was mid morning, so he had slept for several hours. He was aching and stiff. It must have been a deep sleep, he realized, as the other two patients had been brought in without waking him. The sight of himself and Hermione would have been surprising, to say the least, to whomever had been into the ward. The secret was definitely out now.

The students he passed all seemed to be discussing something very intently, and he felt sure that several turned to watch him as he strode towards the staff room. Did they know? He supposed that they must do. Damn! This was not what he had bargained for. Until now, he had been only considering the reaction of the staff – plus the Weasley girl, of course. How could he have allowed things to become such a mess?

Well – there would be plenty of time for self-recrimination later. Now, the priority was to find Pomfrey for news about Hermione.

Sunday morning was not normally a busy time in the staff room, but then this was not a typical Sunday. The buzz of conversation that met his ears as he entered died to silence as his presence was noticed. Closing the door behind him, he reflected that this had to happen sometime, so now was as good a time as any. He scanned the room. Dumbledore was not there, but he was one of the few staff members who were absent. Even some of the ghosts were there – the ones most actively involved in the day-to-day business of the school, that was. The room's occupants were regarding him with a mixture of puzzlement, interest, disgust and, in particular, outrage. Spotting Pomfrey across the room, he headed towards her, every eye following him.

He spoke directly to her, but in a voice that carried through the room. "How badly injured is Hermione Granger?" he asked. There was no longer a need to pretend that he was equally concerned for all the students. Everyone knew exactly where his interest lay.

The Matron's voice was cold. "It is impossible to tell at present, Severus. I will have a better idea in a few hours, when they wake, but for now they must have their rest."

"Then why are you not in the Hospital Wing, taking care of them?" Snape demanded.

Minerva McGonagall had been standing a few paces behind Pomfrey, and now spoke up, her anger clear. "How dare you speak like that, Severus?" she snapped. "Poppy's presence there is not necessary, while they are sleeping, and Hermione Granger's welfare is about far more than just the state of her health!"

Snape stiffened. "Just what is your point, Minerva?"

"My point is that Miss Granger is a Gryffindor student, under my care," she responded, icily, "and I would like to know what is going on between you."

Everyone in the room was staring intently at Snape, and for a moment, he considered telling them that this was none of their business. But what good would that do? He did not need their approval, but if he antagonized the entire staff, things would be difficult, even with Dumbledore's lenient attitude. He took a deep breath. "Hermione Granger and I have been ... together ... almost since the start of the school year."

Whatever the staff had expected, it was clearly not that. Maybe they had thought that this was just some brief fling, or that the feelings were all on his part. They looked stunned at his statement.

Hagrid's voice came from behind him, and Snape turned to see the shock on his face. "But ... but, 'Ermione's jus' a kid," he stammered, indignantly. "Yer supposed ter be a teacher!"

"Do you doubt Hermione's competence to make her own decisions?" Snape demanded, knowing that there would be no one in the room who would question her maturity.

McGonagall rounded on him, impatiently. "That is not the point, Severus! She is a student. We are teachers. Every one of us has a responsibility for those entrusted to our care."

"I am aware of my responsibility," Snape snarled.

This provoked an angry question from Madam Pomfrey. "And just how responsible were you at Christmas?" she demanded.

The puzzled looks from the other staff showed that they did not understand Pomfrey's words, but Snape had heard their meaning well enough. She had a point – how could he deny it?

Realization suddenly seemed to dawn on McGonagall's face, and she went white. "Things have gone that far?"

Hagrid took a step forward at this. "YOU MEAN HE'S ... " he bellowed, then stopped, unwilling to voice his thoughts.

Professor Vector, next to him, placed a firm hand on his arm, holding him back. "How could you, Severus?" she asked in a shocked voice. "She is a child!"

"Hardly!" retorted Nearly Headless Nick, from the back of the room. "I've been dead for centuries, and even I can tell she's no child!" It was not exactly support or approval, but this was not what Snape had expected – particularly from the Gryffindor ghost.

But others were less than convinced. "She's seventeen!" Sprout spat, but Snape's correction to 'eighteen' was reluctantly backed up by McGonagall.

"I am afraid that Severus is correct," she conceded. "Miss Granger used a time-turner during her third year, to attend extra classes. With the time she added, she is, in fact, eighteen years of age."

Pomfrey did not seem to see this as relevant. "Her age makes no difference. She is a student. Frankly, I am amazed that the Headmaster has allowed this to continue."

This was something Snape had been wondering. "What has Dumbledore told you?" he asked, cautiously.

"I have told them," said Dumbledore's quiet voice from the doorway, "that I disapprove very strongly, but in the light of your feelings, and those of Miss Granger, I do not feel it appropriate to interfere." No one had heard the headmaster enter the room, and they now parted to allow him through to where Snape stood. "I believe we agreed that this would remain secret, Severus," he continued, then addressed the whole room. "I must re-emphasize my insistence that the students to do not find out about this."

McGonagall's face was enraged. "Surely you do not mean that you are going to allow this to continue, Headmaster?" she asked, incredulously. Snape, along with the rest of the staff, waited in suspense for Dumbledore's answer.

"As I said, Minerva" Dumbledore continued, gravely, "I do not approve. However, the feelings of Miss Granger must be taken into consideration. I have to admit that the young woman is deeply in love with Severus – and I believe that he has made his own emotions quite clear."

The deputy head was speechless at this. Snape knew how much she respected the head's decisions, but clearly this was pushing the limit of her trust. The best thing to do now was to allow things to calm down.

"I have been away from the Hospital Wing for too long," he said softly. "I must return." Leaving the other staff staring between the Headmaster and his own retreating back, he strode from the room and headed back to his beloved Hermione.

All in all, he reflected, that could have been worse.

- - -

The first thing Hermione was aware of as she woke was hunger. She was famished, and her stomach was almost painful.

She opened her eyes, and was about to push back the covers, when she realized that this was not her room. This wasn't even her home. Where were the bookshelves that her dad had built at the foot of her bed? No – wait. Of course she was not at home. This was Hogwarts.

Vague memories of the strange dreams she had been having were popping into her head and confusing her. She was still half asleep. Hogwarts. She glanced about her, noticing Ginny Weasley in a chair nearby. That wasn't right. Ginny should not be in this dorm – the second year dorms were ... wait ... that wasn't right, either.

Wake up, Hermione, she told herself, sternly, trying to shake the sleep out of her head. She had to focus. This did not even look like one of the Gryffindor dormitories.

The door opened, and a tall figure in long flowing robes entered, making Hermione's heart sink. Strange things were going on, and she could not seem to get reality into focus, but of all the people that could have just entered, why did it have to be the teacher she hated most? She had no idea what he could be doing here, and was even more amazed when she saw that he was heading straight for her bed. She sat up, quickly, clutching the covers to her chest, and shrinking back as he approached.

His face wore the strangest expression she had ever seen on him – no hint of the usual anger or derision – and she could not make it out at all. As he neared, her instinct was to reach for her wand, but there was no time for that as he reached her, sat heavily on the edge of the bed, facing her, and pulled her roughly towards him.

"Hermione!"

The wind was knocked out of her by his unexpected and unwelcome embrace. She pushed him forcefully away, knocking him from the edge of the bed and backwards, onto the floor, where he landed with a groan.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Snape?" she shouted. "Get away from me!""

He stood, looking surprised and horrified, and backed away from her as Ginny ran around the bed to stand between them.

"It's okay, Hermione," the younger girl said, soothingly. "Don't worry." She stepped forward, and mirrored Snape's actions, sitting down on the edge of the bed and putting her arms around Hermione.

Dazed and confused, Hermione found that she was trembling as she watched Snape warily. He was standing beyond the foot of the bed, staring at her with those cold black eyes, his face pale. He looked ill, she thought, without compassion. Well, maybe that explains the strange behavior.

Closing her eyes against the sight of him, she clung to Ginny. "What's going on?" she whispered.