Severus was trying to keep his mind busy, marking essays. It had worked for an hour, until he'd come across Hermione's last essay. It had been perfect, as usual; twelve inches longer than everyone else's and written with a flow that Severus himself almost envied. Almost.
He'd refused to give it the 100 he knew in his heart that it deserved – he had only once given 100 before and the student had spent a day in the hospital wing to recover. Tempting as it was to shock Hermione, and as convenient as it was, as she was still in the hospital wing, he just couldn't.
He scrawled '96' in the corner and then cringed.
Guilt. He was sure that was guilt he was feeling.
He hated feeling guilty.
It was just another one of those signs that the bloody girl had got to him. However he tried to deny that fact to himself, he couldn't hide the fact that he had taken to doing things that were blatantly out of character. All because of her.
He had been up to the sick bay on no less than three occasions, all in the middle of the night. Each time, he'd stared at the pale, sleeping form in the bed for a few moments, before turning on his heel and leaving, disgusted with himself.
The one night he had missed, he had lain awake all night, wondering how she was. And it wasn't even as if she was ill, for Merlin's sake. She was in there because she was being cowardly!
He winced again and added to himself that, yes she was being cowardly, but she had every reason to be. He'd seen himself what a state she was in – her face was so thin and she looked like she wasn't bothering to shower and brush her hair. She had hit depression for the first time in her life and didn't know how to pull herself out of it.
He had thought of going in there to try to bring her out of it, but had stopped himself. He didn't want her thinking he cared, even if he did. He was pretty sure she cared about him, however misguided she might be in doing so, and he didn't want her thinking that anything could ever happen again between them. She would grow out of it, and he assured himself that in time, so would he.
So he hadn't visited and had instead gone in the middle of the night, which was oh so much better, he told himself sarcastically.
Yet however ridiculous he knew it was, he was still sitting in his study trying desperately not to give into the urge to don his invisibility cloak and go to see her.
Maybe if Albus had been more disapproving after he had witnessed their passionate embrace. He might just have enough willpower to stay away from her bedside if Albus had disapproved of the inappropriate 'friendship' that had sprung up between them. Instead he had, in his very unique Albus way, given his permission.
Severus snorted in disgust. Given bloody permission! That in itself would bloody stop any ideas he had of courting the girl. Permission!
Albus had pulled him away from Hermione that night and had taken him into his bedroom, to get him out of Poppy's way. Severus hadn't said a word – he'd just started packing, shrinking everything to fit into one small holdall.
Albus had watched for a moment, and then put his hand on Severus' shoulder.
"Don't touch me!" Severus had said, jerking out of reach. He just couldn't have coped with anyone being kind to him right then.
"My dear boy, please sit down."
Suddenly two chairs were in front of Severus, but he had shaken his head.
"If I don't keep my hands busy, I'll end up back in there, making sure Hermione is really alive, and right now I don't think that's a very good idea, do you?"
"You don't have to leave, Severus," Albus had said, putting his hand firmly on Severus' shoulder again. "Both the school and I would be at a loss without you."
Severus had looked at the older Wizard with an almost comically befuddled expression. Albus spent a good few seconds wondering whether offering him a lemon drop would complete his utter confusion and lead him to booking himself straight into St. Mungos.
"Did you not notice the fact that I was doing a little more than comforting Miss Granger in there? It wasn't your average pat on the back and 'there, there'."
"Yes, I did notice," Albus had acknowledged with a nod of his head, his voice serious. "I also noticed that she did far more than 'comfort' you when she was staying with you after the attack on her cat."
"Why did you not fire me then?" Severus had asked, suddenly sitting hard on the bed and burrowing his head in his hands. "Why let me come back and screw up a second time?"
"Severus, caring for someone isn't 'screwing up'," Albus had said, sitting next to him, his robes riding up enough for Severus to see his bare feet. Severus remembered noting absently that Albus had a very hair big toe. Scarily hairy in fact.
"Caring for a student is," Severus had pointed out, his voice muffled as he spoke through his fingers.
"I'm trusting you to treat her as you have always treated her, when it comes to her academic studies," Albus had said to the miserable younger man. "I'm not telling you to go ahead and have an affair with her, but I am not telling you not to, as long as you are discreet. I need not warn you that if anyone else were to find out about this, that you may be forced to leave against my wishes. It would be taken out of my hands."
"Are you giving me permission to sleep with Hermione?" Severus asked, incredulously. "Have you gone completely insane?"
Severus had peered through his hands to see Albus wincing, no doubt trying not to think about anyone sleeping with his precious Hermione.
"I am merely saying that if there are two people who need each other, I am not going to get in the way of that," he had said, firmly.
"I don't even know if I like the girl," Severus had confessed, his head still in his hands. "I don't know how I keep getting into these situations. She just… got to me."
Albus had just nodded and waited for Severus to continue.
"She said she cares about me, Albus." Severus lifted his head from his hands to look at the Headmaster. "She knows some of what I am, yet she still cares about me."
"Is that so bad, Severus?" Albus had got up then, squeezing Severus' shoulder, then gesturing towards the hold-all Severus had been filling. "If you feel you have to leave, do so. But do not do it on my account, or Hermione's."
Albus had left Severus alone then, and Severus had waited a full two hours before going to her bedside that night, to watch her sleep a drug-induced sleep. He'd touched her face just once, to make sure she was really there. She had come so close to dying in his arms, it was difficult to take in the fact that she really hadn't. Somehow, he'd saved her.
He sighed, putting down his quill and getting to his feet.
"Off to see her again, are you?" his sister spoke from the painting he still kept of her on his desk. He'd painted it himself when he was much younger. They'd both been lying in the long grass in their garden, avoiding their father and getting some fresh air all at the same time. He'd stopped and painted her – it had been one of the few times he'd seen her happy during his childhood.
"Shut up," he snarled at her as he stalked past.
"Oooh… little Severus falling in love at last," the cheeky voice followed him into the living room. "Wonder if the poor girl knows what she's getting into?"
"Be careful, Amanda," Severus warned as he went past the door. "Or I'll paint a bloody great spider to keep you company in there."
He grinned a satisfied grin at the squeal of fright that came to his ears as he stalked off.
Hermione was, as he'd suspected, still a complete mess. Her hair would need some severe charming to become anything like the lovely gold-brown mass it had been before. He wondered if she was actually eating anything at all, and made up his mind to question Poppy next time he spoke to her. She wasn't taking care of Hermione properly. Couldn't she see that Hermione was falling apart?
He moved closer to the bed and studied her face in the almost total darkness. God, she looked vulnerable, he thought. Vulnerable, innocent and totally in need of protection. She brought out protective urges in him that he was sure he had long since buried, and he hated it.
He sat down on one of the incredibly uncomfortable chairs next to her bed. He reminded himself to have a word with Poppy about those too. He knew she kept them hard and uncomfortable so that people wouldn't stay long, an idea he thought was rather ingenious. However, it was different when he was the one perched on the hard plastic. It was a particularly sadistic invention of the Muggles, he thought.
He looked at her, wondering if she was finally ready to give in and go into hiding. It wasn't as if she didn't have a good reason now, with the world thinking her parents really were dead. He could handle himself and he was sure he could convince her to go, given time.
He reached over and placed his hand over hers, as it lay still on the bed next to her. At that exact moment pain seared through his arm. He had clutched at his arm and swallowed the howl of pain he felt rising in his throat. This had to be an urgent summons – Voldemort wanted to see him, and fast.
He got to his feet, still clutching his arm and left as quietly as he could, pulling the cloak back over him. He walked quickly back to his rooms and quickly donned his Death Eater clothes, before running to the edge of the grounds, from where he could Apparate.
As he arrived, he knew he shouldn't have gone. One of the Death Eaters was on the floor in the middle of the circle he joined. He was babbling and screaming incoherently, strips of skin hanging off his face. Severus vaguely recognized him as one of the recruits from a couple of years ago. He'd been in the Ministry and able to pass information to Voldemort. Apparently he'd been as much use as he was going to be and the sick snake man was going to have fun disposing of him.
Except as Voldemort looked up, sensing his presence and looking for him in the crowd, his blood ran cold. He knew then that Voldemort was planning the same fate for him.
Voldemort gestured with his hands and suddenly the crowd of Death Eaters parted to let Severus through. He walked towards Voldemort with a confidence he didn't feel. He was going to die, just like the bloodied man on the ground was slowly dying, in such agony he had become insane with it.
"My Lord," Severus said, quietly bowing his head. He considered kissing Voldemort's robes, but decided he probably wasn't in the mood for it, and it wouldn't save him anyway. What had he found out? Would it be worth trying to Apparate away?
He cleared his mind and kept his head bowed as Voldemort addressed him.
"Are you aware, Snape," he hissed, "that there is to be a Christmas party at that school of yours?"
"I was aware there was to be a dance of some sort, yes," Severus admitted, trying to hide his unease.
"A Dance, Snape, where everyone would be what they are not."
Severus wished he'd just get it over with.
"A costume party, Severus," Voldemort said, his voice getting louder. "Where you could quite easily get together a little band of your Slytherins and get up to all sorts of mischief."
"So WHY have you not mentioned this to me?" he bellowed at Severus, making him wince, waiting for either Crucio or Avada Kedavra to hit him.
Surely he couldn't be in such a bad mood that he'd kill him for this. Severus scoured his mind for a reason for Voldemort's sudden fury at not only him, but the poor sod twitching on the ground next to him.
"While that bearded fool is arranging for my Death Eaters to be caught by the Ministry idiots, you are doing NOTHING."
Oh, that. Severus inwardly winced as he remembered that Albus had been planning on leading a capture of four of Voldemort's finest. Apparently it had been successful and Voldemort needed someone to take out his temper on. It seemed that torturing the man next to him hadn't been enough to quell his anger, so Severus had been summoned.
"My Lord," Severus said, dropping to his knees. "I had not been informed of the nature of the Christmas Dance, nor did I know about planned surprise assault on our friends. I am as upset as you are that you have lost such fine and loyal servants."
"You are giving me nothing," Voldemort hissed, his eyes glinting red. "It is your job to know everything about that school, and instead you know nothing!"
He pointed his wand at Severus and snarled, "Crucio!"
Severus fell to his knees, all thoughts leaving his mind as his body felt like it was being ripped apart. He tried to quell his hands, which were frantically ripping at his skin, as if they were trying to get to the pain deep inside. He knew he would make things worse ripping at his own skin, but the pain had taken over.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been under the curse when Voldemort had finally stopped. He lay panting on the floor, wondering in a vague sort of way if he'd been driven insane with this final about of Cruciatus.
After a few minutes to calm his breathing a little, Voldemort moved towards him. Severus knew that his eyes were full of blood, hindering his sight, but he could see the man getting closer through the haze of red.
Narcissistic bastard, he thought to himself. Trying to keep his thoughts from surfacing, but being in too much of a state to manage it. Kind of like England's answer to Germany's Hitler, except even with the little, very camp moustache, Hitler was far sexier.
He quelled his thoughts again as Voldemort leant over him. He heard a metallic sound, like a dagger being draw from its sheath and he realized a moment later that that indeed had been what it was.
Severus had never been one for screaming – even under the Cruciatus Curse, he stayed remarkably quiet. Voldemort had always been quite amused by this, but tonight he wanted him to scream.
Severus felt slices of skin being peeled from his body and prayed for death.
"Hermione," he whispered into the grass, trying to turn his head so he wasn't inhaling his own blood.
The last thing he remembered was Lucius' voice cutting through the pain, words he couldn't quite hear through the haze; then total blackness.
