Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to the immeasurable genius of JK Rowling; I just like to borrow them and play with them.


Chapter 19

It was mid-morning by the time Hermione and Dumbledore arrived back at Hogwarts, having Flooed from Snape's house directly to the Headmaster's office.

It had taken a lot of convincing, mostly on her part, to get her parents to agree to Dumbledore's plan. There had been confusion, raised voices, and a lot of tears. The Grangers had been horrified, and then angry, to learn their home had not only been raided, but also destroyed.

Mrs Granger was trying to put on a brave face, after her words about house and home earlier in the evening, but Hermione could tell her mother was devastated, nonetheless.

Because Hermione hadn't told her parents everything that had happened in the past two years, the Headmaster was forced to do a lot of explaining. When Dumbledore left the room to 'attend to other matters' after his explanations, the initial, tense silence between Hermione and her parents said volumes more than any shouting would have done.

She had felt bad, not telling her parents everything that went on in the wizarding world. She hadn't lied to them, as such, but keeping the truth from them wasn't far off the mark. She could tell her mother was upset, both at knowing what danger Hermione had been in, and at the fact that she hadn't been told about it. Hermione's father was more angry than upset, and as much as he protested otherwise, she could tell he blamed her for the situation they found themselves in.

She blamed herself, too.

She was thankful that they were alive, of course, but that didn't lessen the burden of her guilt much, knowing they were being forced to leave their home and their country solely because of her.

Her parents finally backed down, with a compromise. They would leave for France, and stay there until the conclusion of the war, so long as Hermione remained at Hogwarts for the duration of that time.

She agreed out of concern for their safety. Hogsmeade visits had been cancelled, anyway, and she was used to spending the Easter break at school. Everyone believed the war would be over, one way or another, by the time Harry graduated at the end of June, so she didn't even consider what she might do with her promise, if that were not the case.

A short time later Emmeline Vance, a distinguished witch and Order member, arrived to escort the Grangers to the safe house, from where they would depart for France. The tall witch stepped out of the Floo with Mercury, the Grangers' new owl, perched on her forearm, and Hermione wondered how she's come across the creature.

After greeting Dumbledore and introducing herself to Hermione's parents, the witch turned to her and said, "Hello, Hermione. It's nice to see you again, dear."

She'd met the witch the previous summer at Grimmauld Place, and replied in kind, adding, "How did you find Mercury?"

"Ah, is that his name?" said Vance, fondly stroking the creature's sleek feathers. "He was flitting around the street when I arrived at your house earlier this evening. He seemed anxious to rejoin his owners, so I took the liberty of bringing him with me, since he won't be able to track your parents to our next destination."

Hermione only heard the first half of what the older woman said. "You were at our house?" she blurted. "What happened to it, after we left?"

Hermione's parents, who had been having quiet words with Dumbledore a few steps away, turned interestedly to listen.

Vance looked quickly at Dumbledore, before replying, "Don't worry about that, Hermione. Everyone is safe; that's the main thing, isn't it?"

Hermione saw the pitying look in the witch's eyes, and sighed. As many times as she heard it, it was hard to believe the house was really gone, without seeing it for herself. At any moment, she expected someone to jump up and yell, 'Surprise! April Fool!' even though it was only December.

She wondered if it would be in the Daily Prophet? Probably not, she thought. Perhaps it was better that way, too. She supposed it would draw unwanted attention to both her and her parents, who miraculously survived.

A teary goodbye followed shortly thereafter, and Hermione held her parents' gaze until the Portkey took them from Snape's house to their next, unknown location.

Back in the Headmaster's office, Hermione sank into one of his plush armchairs, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"Tea, Miss Granger?" he offered. "Or perhaps some rest is what you need, for now."

She nodded. "I am tired," she admitted, "but I'm one of those people who can never sleep during the day. I'll never sleep tonight, if I do."

The Headmaster smiled. "Well, if you do change your mind, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will be happy to give you a sleeping draught."

Hermione yawned, and the Headmaster chuckled lightly. "I think that was a sign," he murmured.

She stood up, but didn't move to leave the room. "Sir, I just wanted to thank you for all you've done for my family tonight," she said honestly.

The Headmaster eyed her over the top of his half-moon glasses and said, "You are most welcome, Miss Granger, however my arrangements would not have been required if it weren't for the assistance of another."

"I know," said Hermione, catching Dumbledore's meaning. "I thanked him, too, but words seem so inadequate, after what he's done for me."

"It's more than he receives from most people," the Headmaster commented. "Not that he looks for thanks, but sometimes it is nice to be recognised for one's efforts."

Thinking on that, Hermione turned to the door, stopping for a moment before she left the room. "Is he back yet?"

The Headmaster, settling himself behind his desk, affirmed, "He is."

Hermione waited a moment, but no further explanation ensued, so she closed the door softly behind her and made her way up to Gryffindor Tower.

Down the corridor from the Fat lady, she stood, undecided. She'd come up there out of habit more than anything else, but she didn't see any point going into the Gryffindor common room, or her own room, for that matter. There were no other students in the school, and most of her textbooks had been in her trunk at home, so studying wasn't an option. She would be making more use of the library this term than usual, she surmised.

She had been serious about not sleeping during the day, so she decided to go for a walk to try and clear her head. Something was niggling away at the back of her mind, and she didn't realise what it was until her wanderings took her to the Entrance Hall, and the stairs leading to the Slytherin dungeons.

She knew Snape was back from his meeting with Voldemort, and that Dumbledore hadn't seemed at all concerned... but would it hurt for her to go and see that he was okay? After all, it was her fault he'd been summoned for the second time that night, anyway.

She bit her lip and pushing any misgivings away, turned from the dungeon stairs to head up a flight of stairs to the first floor corridor and the secret entrance to Snape's quarters.

The room was dark, curtains drawn across the panoramic windows, as Hermione closed the door quietly behind her. She lit her wand with a muttered spell, and was surprised to see Potions master sprawled at a most uncomfortable angle across the couch, on his back, one arm flung out over the edge, his hand brushing the floor.

"Professor?" she called quietly, fearing to startle him.

There was no answer, and as she crept a little closer she noticed the empty, overturned bottle of Firewhisky lying close to his out-flung hand.

Great, she thought. It's not even lunch-time and he's already drunk himself into oblivion.

The thought struck her as distinctly odd; Snape was someone who always seemed to be in control, and relished that control, too. She'd never actually seen the Potions master consume any liquor at all, let alone an entire bottle.

She crept closer still, her wand arm outstretched to throw light on his face, and gasped softly as she saw the livid bruise starting to appear across his temple and cheekbone. For a horrifying instant, she thought she'd mistaken his slumber, and he was actually... but no, he was definitely asleep. She could hear him breathing now, though harshly, as if his throat was partially blocked.

Voldemort had obviously not been impressed, though he seemed to have returned relatively unharmed, after last time.

"Severus?" she said softly.

There was still no response, and she noticed the way his tall frame was too long to fit comfortably onto the couch, his shoeless feet hanging over one end, his head bent and hunched at the other. Frowning in concentration, she murmured one of the transfiguration spells she'd learnt earlier that year, adding an extra foot or so to the length of the couch.

Snape's head lolled back in the space the spell had created behind him, and Hermione saw the reason his breathing sounded so harsh. Leaning in closer to focus the light of her wand on his neck, exposed above the open neck of his shirt, Hermione could make out what appeared to be a boot-print on the pale skin.

She withdrew a little, feeling dismayed and guilty. There was little doubt in her mind Voldemort had punished Snape because of her, but why would he resort to such a form of physical torture? From what she knew already, Voldemort much preferred hexes, curses and potions to any sort of primitive Muggle method of causing injury.

Frowning again, she wondered what other injuries Snape's clothes were hiding? Should she heal the ones she could see while he was still asleep? After his protests the last time she'd tried to help him, it seemed a good idea. They'd come a long way since then, though it had only been a week ago in real time. Nevertheless, she knew better than to think he'd let her play nurse-maid to him, even now.

Leaving his side for a moment and unwarding the lab, Hermione retrieved a jar of bruise salve. She heard a rustling noise behind her, and turned, thinking the Potions master had woken up and followed her into the room. The lab was deserted, and she shook her head as she returned to the sitting room.

The salve wasn't the ideal cure, but it was the best she could do with him still asleep; she would try to convince him to drink a throat-healing brew later, to repair any damage she couldn't see on the surface.

Casting a slightly brighter light about the room so she could see what she was doing, she knelt down at the side of the couch near his head, and uncapped the jar of salve.

Hesitantly, lest he should wake, she lifted his chin gently with one hand to gain better access to his neck. He slumbered on, and she spread a generous amount of the salve across his neck, massaging it into the skin with her free hand. It took a few applications for the bruises to start fading, and she tried not to think how much pressure someone would have had to exert to have marked his neck with the pattern on the sole of their shoe. No wonder he hadn't been breathing easily.

She let his chin drop again and turned her attention to his face. She could see the spot where a hard object had hit him, the bruise radiating out along his bone structure from that point. Starting there, she worked the salve into his skin again, before casting a charm to make sure the bone underneath wasn't broken.

She replaced the lid on the salve again, and regarded Snape's sleeping face for a moment. Even in slumber, there was a frown about his features, a line between his eyebrows giving away any illusion of dreamless sleep. She wondered briefly if it was a frown of pain, and cast the injury detection spell Madam Pomfrey had taught in Medicinal Magic the previous year. Her suspicion was confirmed when her wand glowed as it passed over his ribs, and she bit her lip, wondering what to do.

Such an injury wasn't surprising, given the others he'd received, but she daren't investigate any further without his consent. That was all she needed, for him to wake up to her removing his clothes.

She almost giggled, but, seeing the pained look on his features again, stood up and cast another spell, "Sobrietus."

The sooner the alcohol was out of his body, the sooner he would wake up, and she could see how much his remaining injury was bothering him.

Picking up the empty bottle of Firewhisky, she set it on the coffee table, then charmed the curtains slightly open to allow a little of the late-morning light to filter into the room.

Casting one last glance at the Potions master, she headed back into the lab to search for a hangover potion. Sobrietus rid the body of alcohol, but not the after-effects of a drinking binge. She had a feeling Snape was going to need the potion if he was, as Dumbledore told her, to present any new information to the Order meeting that afternoon.

Not finding any in the Potions master's stores, she set about brewing a fresh batch. It would be useful, too, she thought with a wry smile, for the students returning prior to New Year's Eve. There was always someone who managed to sneak a bottle of Old Ogden's into their trunk after the family Christmas gathering.

Lost in her thoughts, she was startled to hear the same rustling noise as she'd heard before, coming from the other side of the room. She stood still and listened for a few moments, as the noise continued. It seemed to be coming from near the Potions master's workbench, scattered with notes and parchments.

Picking up her wand, she walked slowly and quietly towards the noise, looking for any sign of movement. It stopped abruptly as she drew level with one end of the bench, and she froze.

The noise didn't resume, even after Hermione stood stock still for some minutes. She shook her head again, wondering if she was so tired that she was hearing things.

She was about to turn back to preparing her ingredients when a book on Snape's workbench caught her eye; not just any book, but the notebook she had given him for Christmas just two days prior.

She flipped open the cover, and was surprised to see some potions ingredients already listed on the self-indexing page. She smiled to herself, pleased that he had meant what he said about the gift being appreciated.

She recognised some of the ingredients as those used in the Cruciatus antidote, but others she was unfamiliar with. Curiosity getting the better of her, she flipped to the next page, hoping to find the brew to which they belonged.

She found herself staring at the recipe for the Cruciatus potion.

She inhaled a breath sharply, her eyes travelling down the list of ingredients, which became uglier as she progressed. Snape had previously refused to teach her any part of brewing that potion, or even speak about what went into it. She'd seen him preparing various ingredients, but had never ventured close enough to ask what they were, or why they were a part of the mixture.

It truly was a terrible brew; something Snape no doubt wished he could uninvent. Despite knowing the effects of the potion, Hermione couldn't help but be fascinated by the list of ingredients, imagining the ways in which they all combined and reacted to form the near-deadly brew. She was so engrossed in the method of brewing, she didn't hear any movement behind her, or realise she was no longer alone in the lab until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She gasped, slammed the book shut, and spun around, coming face to face with the livid Potions master.

His face white with anger, he hissed, "What in the name of Hades do you think you are doing?"


To be continued

Sorry for the delay in updating. Took a bit longer than I expected to type up what I wrote while on holidays (which is now posted over at OWL). This may be the last chapter before HBP is released, depending on whether I'm able to write on Friday. Otherwise, the next chapter probably won't be posted here until at least a week after the book's release. I need that much time to absorb the shocks and see what, if anything, can be incorporated into the story.

Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed! As always, I love hearing your comments!