A Helping Hand

He was going to do his duty, no matter that he was sure she wouldn't let him help her. It wasn't like he deserved the chance, anyway. He'd been no prince the last time he'd seen her. He was no Potter, after all.

Standing outside her flat, bag clasped tightly in his hand, Snape looked up at the window where he could see her, "Hermione!"

She looked down at him from her perch in the window, a dark look on her face, "Leave me alone, Severus." Her face was drawn, "I don't want you now." She shook her head in a decided way, "I don't want you ever again." Pulling her head back into the window, she left him alone on the stoop.

It didn't last, though. A week later, the Potions Master was sitting on her bed with his arms gently around her. An old, faded quilt kept them warm as he held her lovingly. It might have been the perfect romantic scene if someone had remembered candles and merlot.

Oh, but there was that one drawback. That one where Hermione's body was shaking uncontrollably (sadly not from an influx of passion) and there was a cold sweat beading all over her body. Her hands twitched compulsively for her wand and for bottles that were long since empty or destroyed.

Severus rubbed his hands vigorously over her body, trying desperately to warm her. Withdrawal was a bitch as Snape knew well enough. Hermione wasn't the first person he'd helped through it, but he hoped she'd be the last.

Somewhere inside that weak and trembling body, however, Hermione's mind was still as sharp as ever. She stood back and could see everything clearly for once, the wreck she'd created of herself. She remembered why she'd done it in the first place, why she'd taken it. It wasn't that she was weak, as many people seemed to think, it was the need for control. She needed to feel something she didn't feel and touch something she wasn't supposed to. It was the desire to hold a modicum of control in a world that had spun out of orbit when her parents were killed.

Hermione could still step away from it all and see herself there on the bed, shaking heavily in his arms. She was helpless and frail there in his strong grip. She could still feel the pain though, that need that had eventually driven her. It hurt like hell; it was oppressive. Seeing herself there in his arms, though, Hermione almost wished she would get better so she could stay there forever.

He spent a week taking care of her: a week sitting there holding her, taking care of her, caring for her. Severus was pretty sure it was one the most enjoyable times he'd ever had, despite her withdrawal.

A soft knock sounded at her front door one afternoon while, for the first time, she was sleeping heavily (thank Merlin). He wouldn't heard it if Snape hadn't set WatchDog Charms on the front steps.

He glanced quickly down at Hermione to make sure she was still asleep before heading to the door. He caught a flash of red hair through the window before opening the door. Ron.

"What do you want, Weasley?" Supposedly, both Ron and Harry knew about Hermione's condition and had kept away during the last week. Severus was annoyed at the redhead for pulling him away from Hermione's bed, a bed he'd so far only shared with her in sickness.

Ron's hand extended something toward Severus, "Harry asked that I give these to you. They're for Hermione once she's better."

Severus' eyes grew cold as they swept over the roll of parchment before looking up at Ron, "He does know what's going on, right?"

Ron nodded shamefacedly, "He said Hermione would want them once she was well enough to want anything." He turned and left shamefully.

Severus looked again at the scroll. His eyes fixed on the words at the top of the unrolling parchment: Ministry of Magic Divorce Proceedings

Walking back into the flat, Severus felt numb. It didn't mean anything to him, at least that's what he tried to tell himself. It was her decision and hers alone.

His eyes moved to the sleeping form on the bed and his mind swept across the different things he'd learned this last week. He'd been forced to do some basic diagnostics on the young woman on the bed to decide the best course of action. He wouldn't have been able to take care of her properly if he hadn't.

Severus sat on the bed and looked hard at her. She was lying on her back in a pair of flannel pants and a sports bra. His hand moved of its own volition to her stomach and rested there, rubbing small circles in a way he'd found tended to comfort her.

He'd give her the paper in the morning. Polyjuice, while it could become highly addictive, was easier to kick than a lot of addictions. Apart from a few lingering head spins from time to time, Hermione would be better soon. She'd find out that her husband wanted a divorce and, unless Severus was highly mistaken, give it to him. Snape, however, had no idea how to tell the young woman that she was pregnant.