Thanks to those who take the time to let me know what they think. I appreciate feedback, even if it is to point out errors or make suggestions that perhaps I did not think of.
Special thanks to my beta Snarkyroxy.
Chapter three: Blind Fury
Faint light crept hesitantly over the line of the horizon. It bathed the room in a soft, pink glow. Severus Snape could see it though hooded eyes. His entire body ached, his mouth was parched and he felt cold.
He knew a fever had developed while he slept during the night, and he was far too weak to fight it. Once he had been a feared Potions Master and a former Death Eater. Now, he was a trembling bundle of nerves and uncertainty.
A noise caught his attention and he searched the dark room to see the shifting form of Hermione Granger. She had managed to fall asleep at some point during the night. She was curled uncomfortably in a chair by his bed, her long, bushy hair framing her pale face, which rested on her shoulder. She had truly surprised him yesterday by defending him, despite all he had done.
He swallowed, and winced as the action pained his throat. His eyes closed; he could not remember the last time he felt so miserable. Merlin, yes he could. Months ago, when he had killed the only man who had ever given him a second chance; one he had so desperately needed after the stupid decisions he'd made in his youth. While Albus Dumbledore had infuriated him to no end, Snape never wished him dead. Yet now, the intelligent, meddling Headmaster had been killed, and by Severus' own wand.
Snape choked back the sob that nearly escaped his traitorous throat. The guilt was relentless as always, threatening to consume him completely.
After killing Dumbledore and reporting to the Dark Lord, Snape had Apparated to Spinner's End. While Wormtail remained with the Dark Lord, Snape drank in his childhood home until he was ill. He had foolishly attempted to drown his emotions and memories with alcohol. It had done nothing more than make him feel worse and incredibly sick. He had retched into the early hours of the morning, feeling miserable and weak.
The dark-haired man opened his eyes and exited his memories. Soft, brown eyes gazed back at him. The young woman who had been sleeping beside his bed had awakened. He knew she had caught the rare glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes before Snape banished his weaknesses behind tightly warded doors in his mind.
There was sympathy in her gaze and Snape could not bear to see it. He looked away to compose himself further and when he acknowledged her, he regarded her as he once did while he was her professor. Cold and calculating.
"You have overstayed your welcome, Miss Granger," he bit out hoarsely.
"We both have," she replied softly.
His dark eyebrows lowered over his ebony eyes.
Hermione drew her knees to her chest, looking much less fierce than she had last night. "I heard them talking outside the door late last night. They want a trial this week." She stood up and began pacing, which halted him from making a remark. " I should have seen this coming, how stupid…not prepared…"
"Not prepared for what?" his beady eyes followed her as she roamed around the small room.
She whirled to face him, her curly hair bouncing around her with a life all of its own. "To defend you properly. I don't know how wizarding trials work. I only know from…someone that there can be one person representing the one brought to trial." She paused for a moment, casting her eyes to the floor as if something fascinating was present there. She seemed to compose herself, standing a little straighter, and she looked him in the eyes now. "I intend to represent you, sir, but I need to gather all my evidence, so that we have a strong case."
"I want no one to defend me, least of all a meddling Gryffindor," he growled.
"Defending you is the least I can do," she told him fervently.
"I desire no debtors, Miss Granger." His tone slashed through the air, but it did nothing to unsettle her.
"Well, you should have thought of that before you saved my life, Professor!" she shouted.
Snape snarled at her and realized that from his position he wasn't looking very convincing. He forced himself up right, ignoring the nausea that swept over him. "Don't call me that!"
"Then what? Sir? Mr. Snape? Severus?"
He cringed inwardly at the title of Mr. Snape. It sounded far too much like his father.
"Half-Blood Prince?" she continued, this time sarcastically.
"Severus, if you must," he growled in annoyance at her cheek.
Hermione was suddenly all fire and energy again. "You saved my life; the very least I can do is defend you."
"I will call your life debt fulfilled if you leave me alone," he offered.
She shook her head, her unruly hair settling around her. "It doesn't work that way."
"It will work whatever way I choose."
Her eyes bore into his. "If I don't defend you, you will most likely be placed in Azkaban. No one else has stepped forward," she informed him sadly. She walked to his bed and leaned over, placing her palms down on the mattress, her face now level with his.
"I found his clues. I put them together like he wanted me to. He wants you cleared." She lowered her gaze again, the wrinkling in the sheets suddenly very appealing. "…And so do I… Severus, " she allowed, so softly that Snape nearly missed it.
Her use of his given name felt too personal, too intimate, especially coming from a former student. He needed to gain ground. Snape opened his mouth to retaliate and snapped it shut in horror as something sped up his throat from his stomach. He was too weak to repress the nausea any longer, and found himself retching onto the floor beside her.
Hermione acted quickly, never moaning in disgust. She removed the dead flowers from a vase left over from when she had first come to visit Snape, and thrust it under his mouth.
He had not eaten the night before and bile was all that came up, burning his throat and mouth. He dry-heaved several times before he collapsed back onto the pillows, breathing harshly. He barely noticed that she had removed the pitcher from his trembling hands, and cast a cleaning spell on the pitcher and the floor.
The former Death Eater closed his eyes and felt cool fingers brush back his sweat-drenched hair from his face. He heard her soft gasp as their flesh met, and his eyes opened.
"God, you're burning up. Why didn't you tell me you had a fever?" Honest concern spilled from her as she pulled the blankets over him, tucking him into the bed.
He saw the guilt overcome her worried face and to his surprise it warmed him.
Hermione used her wand to transform one of the curtains in the window into a small white cloth. She poured water from a clean pitcher across the room onto the cloth and placed it over his face.
Snape closed his eyes as the cool fabric pressed against his burning skin. He felt like a child again, with his mother taking care of him while he lay too sick to do anything. Merlin, how he missed her.
He felt the same foreign fingers stroke the side of his face. The contact shattered his memories of his mother as he remembered who was touching him. He pulled away, the cloth falling from his face and landing onto his chest with a soft splat.
He wanted to tell the silly girl to leave him the bloody hell alone, but he didn't trust himself to talk without retching again. Gods, how embarrassing. How was he ever to redeem himself? He swallowed, the awful taste of bile all over his tongue.
She leaned over him to replace the cloth on his forehead and he moved away again, sliding to the opposite side of the bed.
Snape expected her to lash out at him, but he did not expect her tears.
"Damn it, Severus Snape. Would you rather fall off the bed then let me help you, you stubborn man?" She drew in a large breath and exhaled. "It's all my fault that you're here. It's all my fault that Ro-" She choked on her words and became angry with herself for breaking down in front of her old professor so soon.
The tears coursed down her pale face, and Snape was reminded of the time when Narcissa Malfoy did the same in front of him. Only Hermione Granger did not latch onto his robes, or plead with him to make a vow that cost a life. She sat heavily in the chair and buried her face in her hands.
Snape realized Hermione Granger was filled with as much guilt, grief and despair as he was. What a pair they made.
Guilt assaulted him once again over the fact he had made her cry, and Snape felt he was losing his touch. It seemed he could no longer sufficiently secure what he felt within the deep reaches of his mind.
He took a deep breath, relived that the nausea seemed to have passed. "Stop your sniveling," he lashed out, desperately trying to gain some ground. Feeling vulnerable did not suit him.
That caught the young woman's attention, and Hermione lifted her head, tears streaming from her brown eyes as she stared into the dark eyes of Severus Snape.
A loud knock at the door broke their connection.
Snape froze, remembering his current state, and grabbed the cloth and shoved it under the blankets of the bed, not caring if it wet the sheets. He sat up straighter and leaned forward so his dark curtain of hair would help hide his face.
The door opened, and Hermione and Snape were both surprised to see Nymphadora Tonks and Harry Potter enter the room.
Hermione had never seen Tonks so serious and business like. Harry looked awful; his hair was unkempt, he looked as if he had not slept in weeks and his clothes were wrinkled. Hatred and revulsion were etched into his youthful face.
"Well, well, well," Snape started with a snarl. "A visit from the Chosen One himself."
Harry's eyes seemed to ignite with flame at the words. He gritted his teeth and balled his fists.
For one fearful moment, Hermione thought Harry would leap at the bed and start beating Severus Snape physically.
Tonks suddenly appeared nervous as her eyes fell upon Snape. The last time she had seen him was the battle against Voldemort when he had fallen atop Hermione Granger, hexed and bloody. "I am here to announce that Severus Snape will stand before the Wizengamot this Friday, the thirteenth."
Hermione opened her mouth and Snape knew exactly what she was going to protest about. Damn his illness. He effectively cut her off. "I will be present."
"You had better believe it, murderer," Harry said angrily.
"Harry," Tonks said as a warning.
Harry ignored her and his eyes locked with Hermione's. He noticed the fresh tears on her face. "Ready to defend him now, Hermione? He's obviously made you cry! Have you finally come to your senses and realized what an arrogant, evil, greasy prick he is?"
Hermione's jaw dropped but she immediately snapped it shut. Her eyebrows lowered over her eyes, which were now filled with anger but also hurt. She knew Harry had been furious the last time they spoke, but she hoped the new knowledge she had shared with him, as well as time, would have softened his views of Severus Snape.
"That's enough, Mr. Potter," Tonks told him.
"Let me speak to you in the hall," Harry demanded of Hermione, ignoring Tonks once again.
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "Why would I want to after you come barging in like that, spewing nasty words?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, come off it, Hermione. They aren't any different from anything we ever said in school!"
"I never-" she started, but Harry cut her off.
"I haven't been able to talk to my friend in weeks because she's been too busy being the only member of the 'Snape is Innocent Fan Club.' We need to talk. His trial is Friday and we need to compare notes."
His words caught her off guard. Damn him. She did need to know what Harry planned to say on Friday, even if she only had a rough idea. She wanted to be prepared.
Hermione looked to Snape. That infuriated Harry, who crossed his arms over his chest.
The dark haired wizard lying on the bed said nothing and squinted his black eyes at Hermione as if in challenge.
She nodded slowly to Harry. "Lead the way."
Harry went to the door, opened it and held it for her.
Snape felt the tension in the room rise as the door closed behind the two young adults.
Tonks stood quietly, shifting her weight from leg to leg. She looked everywhere but at him. Snape smirked, happy to have sway over someone. Then he concentrated on listening to what was being said in the hallway.
Hermione noticed as soon as she entered the hall that the Auror who had been standing guard was missing. She didn't have long to contemplate why.
"Why can't you come to your bloody senses, Hermione? Why can't you see him for what he is?" Harry demanded, his green eyes flashing.
"Why can't you let go of your hatred and see what truly happened?" Hermione's voice was softer, but full of forcefulness.
"I saw what happened, Hermione! How many times do I have to tell you I was there! I saw him kill…I saw him flee with those other murderers!" Harry shuddered at the thought of it. He had been reliving Albus Dumbledore's death far too many times in the last few months. He still wished it was a nightmare he would soon awaken from.
"Professor Snape sent us a warning while he was with the Death Eaters. He did that at great risk to himself. What if he'd been caught?"
Harry snorted "Merlin's beard, you are starting to sound like him! 'Great risk to himself!' He realized he might be on the wrong side and tried to make good half way through the fight! Why can't you see that!" He grasped her by the shoulders and shook her.
Hermione broke away, gained a few feet of distance and put her hands on her hips. "He saved Draco's life, and he saved yours!"
"Thestral shit!"
Hermione tried to calm herself in the hope that Harry might do the same. He was still grieving for the casualties. They all were, but he handled things differently than she did.
"He saved my life, Harry," she whispered.
"And he let Ron die! The twisted bastard let my best friend die!" Harry backed away and fell against the wall, shaking.
There was silence and Snape strained in the dark to hear something… anything.
Hermione looked away from Harry, tears in her eyes once again. She shook her head. "I'm the one who let Ron die. It was my fault." She stepped toward Harry.
"I should never have shared what I found with him. He shouldn't have been there with me." She placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and when he looked up at her quietly for a moment, she thought that she had finally gotten through to him.
But then Harry pushed her away roughly from him, nearly knocking her to the floor.
"He chose you over Ron!" he cried out, his hands clenching at his messy dark hair. "Why did he choose you? Is he a sick pervert who likes you, or did he realize you could help him more in the end? I seriously doubt he likes you with how he's treated you, and besides, he can't possibly have a heart! So, it must be that he knew you could save his sorry arse in the end! And look at you falling right into his plan!"
Hermione's eyes widened. She had seen Harry upset, but she had never seen him like this. He reminded her of a caged wild cat that had finally escaped captivity. Being held against its will turned it violent and demented, willing to lash out at everything.
She opened her mouth to speak and was cut off.
"What the hell makes you worth more than Ron?" Harry spat, fuming. " The fact that you can quote a few dozen textbooks?"
Tonks gasped within the room. "Merlin…." Her hand covered her mouth.
Snape froze and a feeling of déjà vu swept over him, causing him to shiver. He clenched his teeth. The boy was a carbon copy of his father, James Potter. Snape had expected the taunting and anger that Harry Potter had directed at him. He had not expected the boy to sink so low as to ridicule one of his best friends.
Snape snorted. It served the girl right for wanting to defend someone like him. Perhaps now she would come to her senses.
A loud crack was heard. The door immediately opened and Hermione entered the room. Snape thought she would cry, but she appeared much as he did at times when he was too hurt or angry to react. Her face was devoid of all emotion.
Harry had a hand over his cheek where Hermione Granger had slapped him forcefully. When he let his arm drop there was a perfect red handprint visible on his pale face. "C'mon, Tonks. We're done here. She's made her choice and she's just as much a traitor as he is." He fled the room.
Nymphadora blinked, looking more like a confused, frightened child than the trained Auror in charge. She cast a genuine, sympathetic glance at Hermione, ignored Snape altogether, and left the room, closing the door behind her and Harry.
Hermione turned to Snape, who watched the young witch with a guarded stare. He waited for her to break down or heaven forbid, throw a tantrum, but it never came.
Her normally warm brown eyes were now glazed over with ice and her voice was as cold as a mid-January morning when she spoke.
"I need to know everything."
Snape tilted his head and flicked his dark hair out of his eyes.
"As do I."
To be continued…