Hand Talk

Disclaimer: Of course I own all of these characters. I keep them locked up under my bed and feed them table scraps. NOT! If I owned these characters I would be sending these stories to my publisher (which does not exist) and not sending them to Summary: Hermione is found bloodied and bruised, without her sight and hearing. Resorting to the only communication she knows, there is only one other who understands her. HGSS

Rating: M (mature themes, violence and language)

Chapter 21

Warning: Chapter Summary may contain plot spoilers

Chapter Summary: Hermione helps Seamus.

Severus woke early, the sun only barely spilling into the room. His breath caught in his chest before he had even opened his eyes. There was something happening that shouldn't be. There was a hand down his boxes, and it wasn't his. Glancing down he was met with a fuzzy mass of hair as it escaped its braid. Mentally beating himself, he consciously kept breathing as to not disturb her. This task was however becoming difficult as his blood decided that it wanted to be somewhere other than his brain, and it getting harder and harder, in both senses.

'Oh, Gods,' he groaned internally as he felt a petite little hand sliding under his boxers waistline across to his hip. Remaining perfectly still the hand continued moving up away from his lower abdomen until it stopped, resting just below where her head was on his chest.

He heard her mumble in her sleep. Thank the Gods above she hadn't woken; otherwise, she would have been in for a rather nasty surprise.

He remained this way for several minutes, staring blankly up at the canopy covering his bed wide eyed, body unmoving.

Finally he could wait no longer and sure she was now in a deeper sleep than before, he carefully lifted her off his pale chest and onto her side of the bed. Sliding over the silk sheets with ease, he gently pushed off the bed, careful not to wake her. That would prove a difficult situation; Hermione waking up and finding her Professor, in his late thirties with a raging erection. He didn't really want to think about the outcome of that situation.

Grabbing a set of clothes and some clean underwear, he ducked into the bathroom to run a nice, artic cold, shower. He didn't know how much more of this he could handle. Whether it was good or bad, he hadn't decided yet, but she was going back to her own rooms at the start of the Christmas holidays if she wasn't already going home. Nicole was leaving. The Ministry had informed him a week or so ago. They had found a nice, young, magical couple looking to adopt a daughter. That meant Nicole would be spending the coming Christmas with her new family.

'This Christmas is just going to be just like every other Christmas in this Hell called boarding school,' the thought savagely, attacking his body with a loofah.

As always he was going to be spending it alone. Whilst Hermione may be leaving his bed so he may sleep in peace, she was also leaving his home, heading back to the lion's den; Gryffindor Tower.

Although he didn't want to admit it, he liked her company. He enjoyed the way they could talk, how they could sit in peaceful silence reading. He would missed the way his bed smelt in the mornings after she had slept in it, the way she curled up so delightfully on the couch with one of his extensive reading collection, the way she nibbled her lip absently whilst working over a difficult homework problem, they way she laughed, the way she played with Nicole, the way she smiled at him. When she left it would be just like the way it had been before. He would become the vile Potions Master who always ignored her, and she the third wheel of the magnificent Gryffindor trio.

'No,' he thought firmly grabbing a towel and drying himself off. He was not going to miss her because she was his student and he her Professor, the way it had been before and the way it would be once she left.

He was simply offering her residence on a temporary basis and that was all it would be, that was all it was. She was simply an inconvenience that would soon be gone.

ooOOoo

Hermione was anxious as she sat on the sofa in front of Severus's hearth, the fire merrily crackling away. She had felt Nott being called less than two minutes ago. She deduced Snape had too from the hiss behind the sofa as he marked second year essays. Without so much as a word, he had jumped from his desk, hurriedly heading towards his room. Not a moment later he strolled through his quarters towards the door leading to his office in the dungeons. He had changed into heavier woollen robes, different to his normally lighter robes which flared behind him as he stalked the corridors. These didn't have the same effect but were still midnight black. In the short time it had taken him to walk around the room he had spared few words of support and a suggestion or two.

Now he was gone and she was anxious. She was about to travel from her body. Every time she did this there was a chance that he would find out, realise there was something wrong, know she was there. If something did go wrong and Severus didn't notice, then she would be here, or rather there, with no help. She was on her own.

Paper and quill at the ready she stretched her body the length of the sofa, making herself comfortable, once she left her body it would be as though she was asleep. Closing her eyes she braced her mind before beginning her journey.

Each time she travelled, the less time she spent in the void between the two bodies which she was thankful for. The whole thought of being in a nothingness void with only a snake for company—a rather large snake—freaked her out, especially after that whole big snake thing in her second year.

'On three,' she thought. '…three!'

ooOOoo

With a quite 'pop', Severus appeared before the Dark Lord. He barely had time to take in his surroundings. Unfortunately many black robed figures had already formed the circle. Under his feet was newly fallen snow, only thin thankfully, he did not wish to be totally drenched. As far as he could tell they were in an open field, the snow spotted across the grass with a forest some four hundred meters away, one of the Dark Lords more favoured meeting places.

"My Lord," he said, faithfully once he had dropping to one knee, head bowed.

"Severus," he hissed in reply, his displeasure evident. Obediently he crawled forward, kissing Voldemort's hem. "Your late," he stated.

"My sincerest apologies. I trust your punishment will be just for my conduct," he answered submissively as he braced himself for a round of 'Crucio'. Being late always displeased him. Damn those Ravenclaws. If it hadn't been for them blocking his passage out of the castle, he would have been here on time. How could he have forgotten that they held their Duelling class Tuesday nights? He had been too wrapped up in his own thoughts. Damn! His wandering minding was going to get him killed on of these days.

The best way to deal with this situation was to not try and make all number of excuses, even if they may be true, tell him it would never happen again and then ask for his forgiveness, as if he had ever been forgiving. That would only lead to several rounds of torture for disobedience and stupidity. No, the best way was to apologize and be thankful for whatever punishment you deserved. It always gave the impression of a devoted minion.

"I will deal with you later; there are currently more pressing issues at hand. Take your place," he ordered. Swiftly he stood, thankful for the short reprieve as he took his place beside Malfoy, the tips of his white-blonde hair peaking out from under his robes. The knees of his robe were only partially wet meaning the moisture didn't seep through to chill his skin.

The meeting proceeded in the usual fashion. Voldemort talked a lot about maintaining the purity of their blood and the worthlessness of Muggles, the usual megalomaniac speeches about superiority.

Cautiously Snape allowed his eyes to travel around the circle. He recognized most of the hooded figures. The Dark Lord had a thing about them standing in order. The highest ranked would be near him. Towards the opposite end of the relatively small circle, those a little further down the ranks would stand, behind them those even lower. It was similar to the arrangement of a Muggle orchestra with the Dark Lord being the conductor.

Across from him stood Nott Senior and inconspicuously behind his father and another, Nott Junior. Behind him to his right, he knew Draco stood behind his father. It was a bit of custom for the sons, and he suspected daughters—though one had never joined—of those already among his ranks to stand behind their parents. Couples—married ones at least—also stood side-by side, as was the case with Lestranges who stood beside Nott.

From what Hermione had told him, he guessed Theodore was living with Bellatrix. The Ministry was on the lookout for him, so the possibility of him being found and sent to Azkaban if he were to go home was particularly high.

Bellatrix had always been the one to go to if you got…urges…that others could not provide for. Her whole dungeon had been devoted to it, and from what he had heard, she and her husband made a nice little profit from it. He had only been there once before on an offer from Lucius. It was at a time when his allegiance was thought to be wavering; therefore it had shown his loyalty to the Dark Lord to go along. It was an experience he was not too willing to repeat.

The Lestranges and Notts had always been close so it didn't surprise him that an arrangement like that would be made.

Moving his full attention back to the Dark Lord, he remembered that Hermione was most likely wandering around among them, looking for clues to their identity whilst also keeping an ear out for information he might miss.

Different Death Eaters were being called upon for their reports. It was not going well. Several had already been punished for their lack of information. Soon it would be his turn so he readied himself.

Moments later his name was called and he stepped forward, feeding them a small amount of cock-and-bull that would prove to be fairly worthless. Dumbledore had given the go ahead for that information to be passed on so no harm would befall anyone, beside himself.

The Dark Lord nodded before speaking. "You have done well, Severus."

"Thank-you, Master," he replied automatically, bowing his head. Sensing the end of the conversation he stepped back to his place, practically beside the snake-man.

Several minutes later McNair was allowed to speak. Proudly he announced the arrival of a little entertainment for the night; several Muggles for them to play with all the way from India. Severus nearly snorted underneath his mask. The executioner was making a big deal about stealing a few measly Indians. India was practically overflowing with them. Their government should be praising him for taking them. It was much harder to take Muggles closer to home; authorities would be worried about them, searches started. It would be more likely for him to be caught by the Ministry that way.

After many of the other Death Eaters had become involved in the happenings with the Muggles, he was about to strike up some conversation with some fellow comrades before he was called before the Dark Lord. He strongly suspected it to do with his tardy appearance from earlier and prepared himself for his punishment.

"My Lord."

With a slight gesture of the hand, Wormtail left his side to join in with the fun. It was most likely the only time he got to spend away from the Dark Lord. In his subhuman form, he was weak and needed constant attention—despite that he was powerful and partially self-sufficient. Peter got that job. 'Serves him right,' Severus thought savagely.

"You were late once again. I do not tolerate tardiness," he hissed.

"Yes, Master," he answered from his kneeling position.

"You missed a very important notice." He paused, as if waiting for Snape to speak out of turn but he remained silent. "Bodanis has arranged a lovely little raid on a traitorous witch. She married a Muggle. I believe you may know their little half-bred."

"What, may I ask, is his name?" enquired Snape quietly.

"Seamus. Seamus Finnegan," he hissed, the contempt in his voice. "In a few hours they will attack. You're more than welcome to join, but I suspect that Dumbledore wants you back at that pile of bricks he calls a school."

"Yes, Master. I would be very willing to join, but I have duties I must continue to stay in the old fools favour. My sincerest apologies."

"Very well." Knowing the conversation was over he made to back away, thanking his stars he had not been apart of the entertainment tonight. "Severus," the Dark Lord called, "a little reminder to not make me wait again." With a flick of his wand Severus collapsed to the ground, a thousand white hot knives piercing his skin, jolts of lightning travelling down his spin. Clawing at the ground he managed to hold in a scream.

Once the pain had lifted and he had regained his composure, he disapparated back to the school. Pulling out a vial of potion, he downed it in one throw. It wasn't all that nice but would keep him in shape so that he was able to talk to the Headmaster. Grabbing his portkey from his pocket, he disappeared. The only evidence he had even been there was a few smudged footprints in the mud.

ooOOoo

On the second floor of Hogwarts, a Prefect woke with a start. Breathing heavily, she looked around the room rather frantically. Jumping from the couch where she had been resting, she pulled on a winter cloak as she disappeared out a heavy wooden door. The parchment which had been resting on the table beside the couch drifted lightly to the floor.

ooOOoo

"Are you sure they plan to attack the Finnegan's?"

"Yes, Albus. I'm sure. Within the next few hours."

Placing quill to parchment, Albus swiftly scribbled away. With a flourish of his quill he completed the letter before sealing it tightly with his wand.

"Fawkes," he called. "Please deliver this to Alastor. It is of a rather urgent nature," he added gesturing to the letter he was holding. The bright bird nodded his understanding reaching for the letter.

A moment before the phoenix took the parchment Albus spoke, "Just a moment if you will, Fawkes."

The next second the Headmaster's office door flew open and in its place stood a rather ruffled looking Prefect. Severus turned away from the window overlooking the Quidditch Pitch.

Albus was the first to speak. "Miss Granger, I believe you have news from the meeting?"

"Yes, sir. It's Seamus's parents…" she said hastily as the Headmaster cut her off.

"Not to worry Miss Granger. Professor Snape here has already informed me as to the attack," he told her reassuringly. "I'm about to inform Alastor at this moment," he said gesturing to the letter he gave to the phoenix in hopes of calming her.

"Wait, Professor." Fawkes halted, about to burst into flame and leave.

"What is it, Miss Granger?" asked Severus, speaking for the first time, a hint of irritation in his voice. Hermione's eyes snapped from the blue eyes of the Headmaster to Severus's dark orbs.

"It's a test. You were the only one he told about the raid." Severus looked at her sceptically. "I know what I heard. You have to trust me." She took a few steps into the room.

"Was there anything else of great importance you overheard?"

"No." Looking towards Professor Dumbledore he gestured for her to take a seat in front of his desk which she did. "If you send anyone to stop them they will know Severus is a traitor. Voldemort will know it was Snape who alerted them."

"I understand, Miss Granger," answered the Headmaster gravely, banishing the letter as Fawkes flew back to his perch.

"What are we going to do?" she asked softly, the gravity of the situation coming down on her full force. When the Headmaster refused to answer her, instead turning his eyes away to shuffling the papers about his desk she turned to Severus.

"Nothing," he supplied.

"N...nothing? We have to help them."

"We can't, you said it yourself."

"There must be something we can do?" Neither of the men spoke. A silence fell upon the room as the brunette looked from one to the other, the aging wizard still refusing to meet her eyes. She could hardly bare the thought of just letting two innocent people die. It wasn't like she knew Seamus very well, but he was in the same year as her; he was friends with both Harry and Ron. She knew he didn't deserve anything of the sort. Thoughts of mutilated bodies, smoking ruins, hovering Dark Marks, and screams filled her mind. "Anything?" she pleaded softly.

Again neither spoke.

"If there is nothing else I believe the two of you should be heading back to your rooms," the headmaster finally said. Severus stepped forward, taking Hermione by the arm when it was clear that she had nothing more to say and was instead lost in her thoughts.

"Come along, Miss Granger," he mumbled leading her through the door. The best thing for her now was just a hot soak. Sometimes Muggles really knew the best way to deal with things and this was one of those times.

ooOOoo

Wednesday morning Hermione sat on the window ledge in the Gryffindor Common Room, her head stuck once more in a book, Herbology this time. That morning Severus had been totally out of character. He had been short and rather abusive, verbally towards her. It was like being in potions class but much more personal.

Nicole sat watching Harry and Ron play a game of wizard's chess, clearly enjoying the game. Or maybe it's the thrashing Harry was receiving? she mused.

Hermione glanced at her wrist watch before turning her attention back to the page before her.

All three of them had a spare period? that morning before Herbology, so they had decided—well the boys had decided—they would spend the morning in the common room. Hermione, seeing nothing wrong with that remained silent.

Despite how much she tried to read the text before her, she just couldn't concentrate, the lurking feeling of dread consuming her. The first classes had commenced, meaning that the rest of the wizarding world was also starting for the day. That would mean the Death Eaters would be going about their daily activities, which meant that they had finished with the Finnegan's, which meant they had cast the dark mark, which meant the authorities knew about their deaths, which meant there was probably an owl on its way now baring the tragic news for Seamus who sat across the other side of the common room shuffling a deck of cards.

Turning away from Seamus, she studied the plant in her text before being interrupted by a tapping noise. Looking up she saw an owl pecking at the window. It had a ministry emblem around its neck and a black scroll clasped in its claws.

Heart in her throat, Hermione opened the window allowing the owl to fly in and drop its letter on Seamus' card house before swooping around the room and flying out the window once more.

"No," Seamus whispered as Hermione clicked the window shut behind the owl. "No…no, no, no, no, no," he mumbled pushing his chair away from the table where the black scroll sat on his scattered pile of cards. "You've got it wrong. Take it back, take it BACK!" he yelled at the long gone owl, his voice ascending with each word.

The few other occupants of the room—who had been disturbed by the entrance of the owl—all looked at Seamus. No one but Seamus spoke a word. No one moved to comfort him. All of them just sat there.

Hermione was torn between ignoring the situation and instead dealing with the personal grief that someone else's parents had died and she had done nothing to stop it, or comforting the boy who had lost his parents.

"Ron…" Harry whispered, his question unsaid but not unasked. The confusion was written on his face.

"It's a death notice," replied the hoarse whisper. No more was needed to be said.

Seamus had edged himself back from the table he was seated at and was now half-leaning against the edge of one of the sofas. "No…no…no, no, no, no, no," he whispered over and over again, his horror stricken face crumbling. No one moved. They all just sat there watching.

She watched as the first tear left his eye. It felt as though that single tear wrenched her heart out. She couldn't take it any longer. Standing up, she dropped the book on the window seat and crossed the room, taking Seamus by his shoulders. Moving the two of them around the arm of the sofa, she sat him down, taking a seat right beside him.

"It's okay. Just breathe, Seamus, just breath," she told him, immediately regretting her words. Of course it wasn't okay, his parents were dead. He took a few hiccuping breaths as more tears flowed down his face. His body shuddered with the strength of his sobs. "Ron, open it," she insisted as three girls over in the corner started whispering among themselves.

The red head moved from his spot in front of the chess set, walking over, and picking up the black scroll as if it was a bomb. Cracking the seal, he unrolled the letter. Apprehensively, Seamus watched the youngest Weasley male, his eyes scanning the page before him.

Ron slowly shook his head in response, his eyes lifting from the page.

Hermione watched as more tears fell from his face, splattering on his robes. Not really sure what she was doing, Hermione reached out, placing a hand over his clenched fists in his lap, at the same time as wrapping her other arm around his shoulders. The Irish boy turned in her arms and resting his head on her shoulder, his tears dampening her own robes, her small hands rubbing circles across his back, the way a mother sooths her child. His waves of agony flowed around him, assaulting her like the crashing waves of the sea.

ooOOoo

Somehow, between the three of them, they had managed to get Seamus up to the boy's dormitory before anyone else had entered the Common Room, saving him from awkwardness. According to Harry, Seamus had stayed there all day after drinking the calming draught she had gotten him from the Infirmary.

Parvati had arrived in the Common Room as Hermione was making her way to the Greenhouses with Nicole. After being told what had happened to her boyfriend, she spent the rest of the day with him.

It wasn't until Friday that Seamus had returned to classes. Hermione had noticed that he had become jumpy and depressed, not taking life in general with as much enthusiasm as he had before.

Every time she saw him, she felt a little stab in the heart. His dull eyes reminded her of the pain she had caused, the innocent lives that had not been saved.

ooOOoo

It was three days after that Hermione had seen another Ministry owl. Her heart had clenched at the sight of it swooping across the Great Hall Monday morning. Thankfully the scroll was the usual cream colour and not the deathly black it had carried last time.

She watched as the letter fell into the waiting hands of the Professor before disappearing into the voluminous folds of his robes at which point she turned her attention to the tugging of her own robes.

"What's that?" Nicole asked, pointing to a brown haired boy across the table.

"That's Neville," supplied the brunette.

The little girl shook her head quickly, causing her hair to whip around her head. "No, what's he holding?"

Hermione smiled before explaining what Neville's latest plant was.

It was part way through her explanation when she felt the Professor approach.

"Sir," she greeted.

"I believe this may be of importance to you," he said softly handing her a magical copy of the scroll he had received during his breakfast. With a quick greeting to Nicole he left, disappearing in a flourish of black. It was something which anyone else would look silly doing, but when he did, looked dramatic.

Turning her attention to the scroll and ignoring the questioning looks of the boys, she unrolled it. Skimming her eyes over the document she couldn't believe it. Of all times, they had to do it now, at Christmas time.

"Hermione," Ron finally asked, "what does it say?"

"It's a notice from the ministry. They've found an adoptive couple for Nicole." Her voice hitched slightly. "They're coming this weekend."