Chapter 12

"Incompetent students," Severus muttered as he drew his quill across the page leaving long red lines. Placing down the quill he pulled out his silver tape measure checking the margins, top, bottom, left and right. Unfortunately they were correct, no detention here.

Placing it with the other red ink marked essays, he pulled the next unfortunate one before him, quill poised. A deathly scream pierced the air, the professors' head shooting up. It was a familiar cry. Jumping to his feet he practically flew across the room to his guest bedroom. Reaching the door before his chair had even fallen to the floor, essay and quill forgotten.

Throwing open the door he stared around, the scream was coming from the bathroom. Dred filled him as he reached for the handle. What was happening to her? Was he here? Was he that stupid? The handle didn't budge. Whipping out his wand he performed a simple unlocking spell but the door was still shut tight, Hermione's screams filling the air.

It was warded and warded well. In the several seconds he took to disable the numerous wards the ear ringing screams had quickly died down to sobs before the only sounds that could be heard were the constant flow of water, the fire crackling in the next room and the Professors low voice speaking words at such a pace that they were slurred together.

What was happening? Why had her screams stopped? Was she unconscious? Was she dead? 'God, please don't let her be dead,' the professor thought. 'Dumbledore will have my head for this.' Although this was the thought that came to mind he knew that he was more concerned about her welfare.

Finally the last magical ward was down and the door swung open. Stepping though the doorway he was engulfed by a cloud of steam so thick he could barely make out anything. Clearing the steam with a wave of his wand he glanced around the room spotting only Hermione.

She was lying on the floor of the shower, half slumped against the wall, unconscious. Reaching through the door he shut off the water. The cold water wasn't even on though. It had been straight hot water which was beating down on her. Kneeling down he pushed the door open to fully reveal the naked woman. Her skin was red raw, her legs folded awkwardly before her, exposing the tattoo on her thigh. The skin surrounding it was charred in some places, covered in boils and bleeding heavily though the eyesore remained untouched. The red seeped down her thigh, mixing with the water as it made its way down the drain, passing the wand which lay on the white tiles inches from her hand.

"You silly girl," he muttered reaching for her wrist and taking her pulse. "You silly, silly girl." Summoning a towel from the vanity he stepped into the shower kneeling beside her, his robes becoming soaked from the water on the once pristine tiles. Pulling her slowly off the wall he slipped the large towel around the shoulders, pulled it against her torso. Her head lolled forward, face hidden by the riot of wet hair.

Getting is footing, Severus stood on the wet floor pulling her into his arms much like he had the night he had taken her to bed, but this was totally different. He held her close, as if she were a china doll. Taking her back to her room he moved her to the bed, carefully lying her in the middle of the bed, her head supported by the two pillows. Summoning another two towels he gently placed them over her to give some sort of decency while allowing her skin to cool against the some what chilly air in the room.

Poppy was accompanying a student that was being moved to St. Mungos tonight and would not be back until morning so he would have to deal with this himself he summarised. Leaving her lie, he swept out of the room, returning a moment later with his emergency kit; an ingenious box of potions, balms and other concoctions he frequently used upon return from a dark revel.

Shrugging off his heavy wet robes until he stood beside her bed in only his damp pants and white shirt, he threw his clothes onto the trunk at the end of the bed. Kneeling beside her on the mattress he opened the kit up and began to assess the damage.

The number one priority, at the moment, was her leg. Adjusting her legs so that one was bent under the other he took in the sight of the mangled skin. She had tried to burn the tattoo off. It was pointless, something she would have known if she was thinking. Dabbing a cotton pad with a clear potion he gently swiped the skin, cleaning it of blood and other fluids. Disposing of that pad he began to apply a white paste of the area, in effect sealing and healing the skin.

"Now is not the time," he scolded himself as the pants which were quite adequate several minuets ago began to become a little too tight. Pushing down the rising feeling he returned to the task at hand; dressing the wound as it would take several hours to heal fully. He supposed the unexpected reaction was the result of years of no sexual activity, not unless you counted the many times he had raped women in front of the gatherings of hooded Death Eaters. This beautiful body before him, free for the taking was seriously starting to annoy him.

Mentally beating himself, he turned to examine her skin. Sitting in the practically boiling water had, as would be expected, burnt her. Her bodily temperature was above normal and still rising he observed, noticing a sweat glistening on her brow.

Touching a temporary cooling charm to her the Professor reached for the pot of cream in his kit, an ingenious little invention of his that cooled and healed burns twice as fast as normal burn salves.

This, quite possibly, was going to be a messy task he decided. Rolling his sleeves to his elbows he revealed his own Dark Mark. He swept back his hair with a wave of his wand, tying it at the base of his neck with a piece of silk.

Picking-up the container again he started with her face, pushing back the wet locks to apply the thick cream to her hot skin. Her delicate eyes remained closed as he skilfully applied the cream to the side of her face which had been exposed to the hot water. Moving down he continued the motion of dipping his fingers into the cool ointment, applying it to her skin and moving it out in small circles until he reached the top of the cloth covering her breasts which posed a problem.

It was necessary that he apply the balm to all of her burns but this was inappropriate for a teacher. There was no one else to do it though, and if he didn't do it now, she would pay for it later. Not to mention he was probably violating her by doing this with her unconscious. Hell, having her staying in his rooms was inappropriate for a teacher. He finally concluded that it was best that she unconscious at this moment anyway, as he slipped away the piece of fabric to reveal her petit breasts, decorated by the dark pink nipples. Looking for any change in her face she remained very much unconscious. Carefully ignoring his growing problem he returned to the task at hand as quickly and efficiently as possible before covering her over once more. His hands moving deftly across her stomach, he noticed the contrast between his almost deathly white, calloused fingers and her previously tanned, now red, smoothed skin. The corner of his mouth twitching up slightly he finished coating her skin before levitating her off the bed to check her back. It was only the top of her back which had been burnt so he rolled her over before coating her shoulders and turning her back onto her back.

Eventually stepping back into his lounge room he considered the option of contacting Minerva but decided against it. It was nearing ten and what would she be able to do any way? Hermione needed rest now and he had a very persistent problem which needed to be attended to with a shower of his own, a very cold shower. God, he felt like a bloody hormonal teenager.

ooOOoo

In the early hours Hermione woke, her skin raw, painfully raw. Eventually prying her eyes open she saw that she was lying on her bed. Strong hand lifted her into a sitting position sending fire like jolts of pain across her skin causing her to cry out. The pain subsided a little and she quietened, eye shut tight. Something cold touched her lips, as though urging her to drink. Opening her eyes she saw Professor Snape beside her, supporting her back with one arm, the other holding a cup to her mouth. He was saying something, perhaps telling her to drink as the small glass against her lips tipped up. A cool liquid touched her lips and she instinctively drank. The cool instantly spread through her body as she slid back to the bed this time painlessly.

Only now she realised she was naked, but for some strange reason she didn't care that only two small bits of fabric covered her. The man beside her made to get up but somehow she managed to grab his hand, squeezing his long tapered fingers lightly as though in thanks. Through fuzzy vision she watched him turn to face her and although she couldn't be sure she was sure she saw a smile grace his lips as she slipped back into oblivion.

ooOOoo

Through the day she slipped in and out of consciousness. Once Professor McGonagall had been there talking to someone outside the door. Another time Harry and Ron were there, the excitement showing on their faces as she awoke but disappearing as she slipped away once again. Only once did she find herself alone, the other times she was being attended to either by Professor Snape or Madam Pomfrey, who despite gentle and caring touch never felt the same as Severus, or the Professor was sitting beside her bed.

It was sometime in the afternoon when Hermione fully regained consciousness. Unlike the other times when she was only partially aware of what was happening, she was fully conscious and aware of her surroundings. Her legs had been twisted around and tucked under her so that she was lying on her side. Her hair had been pulled back out of her face, most likely in a tie, she concluded. Looking down she saw the redness of her skin across her stomach. Her eyes travelling lower they fell upon mark which stained her skin that she had hoped she had removed. It was a prominent as ever but the skin around it was covered in a paste of some sort. Reaching forward she went to touch it but a strong hand caught her wrist. Her gaze drifting towards the owner of the hand, she locked eyes with dark ebony ones. The Professor gently moved her hand back up the bed resting next to her. Shifting himself down the bed a little he went back to his task of dressing the wound which still had not healed but was on the way.

When he eventually turned around he expected her to have drifted off again but she was still staring at him, no emotion, her eyes just locked with his.

"Do you hurt anywhere?" he asked. She just shook her head slightly against the pillow. She could see the disappointment in his stance as he stepped off the bed and walked out of the room.

What had she been thinking? What was the point to this? Why was she doing this to herself? What was the point? What did she really hope to gain? To each of these questions her mind formed she could find no answer. She was just making the lives of those around her a living hell.

She had the support of her friends, her teachers. She knew she could and had to get through this. She had a mission to get her hearing back and some things which needed to be attended to, like justice. After all, the world didn't stop for her.