Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to the immeasurable genius of JK Rowling; I just like to borrow them and play with them.
Chapter 27
At the sound of Snape's voice, Hermione's eyes snapped to his face. He'd turned his head slightly, his eyes half-open and dull with fatigue as they focused on her. Hermione rose quickly from her chair, gripping his hand a little tighter as she leant over the bed.
"Welcome back," she said softly, unable to stop herself from reaching out with her free hand to brush back a stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes when he'd moved his head.
He opened his mouth to speak again, but the dryness of his throat wouldn't permit it and he coughed instead.
"Would you like some water?" she asked, and he nodded after trying unsuccessfully again to clear his throat and voice his answer.
She straightened, releasing her grip on his hand, and withdrew her wand. Turning towards the open bathroom door, she called, "Accio glass!"
A small tumbler smacked into her hand a moment later, and she directed the tip of her wand into the glass and murmured, "Aguamenti."
Snape, in the meantime, had tried to raise himself up his elbows to accept the water, but his arms were weak and shaking, and he fell back onto the pillows with a grunt of frustration.
Hermione noticed that despite the moonfilly blood having an obviously positive effect on him, he still wasn't one hundred percent well, as she had expected him to be.
"Just take it easy for a while," she cautioned, trying to avoid sounding too motherly, knowing how he would despise being mollycoddled, even in his weakened state. "Let me help you."
He coughed again, but didn't protest when she rearranged the pillows a little awkwardly to prop him up a little, then sat on the edge of the bed and snaked her hand behind his head, helping to steady it as she raised the glass to his lips. During the several moments in which she tipped the cool liquid into his mouth, she was reminded of the last time she'd helped him drink – when he'd returned from Voldemort after having been forced to drink the Cruciatus potion. It seemed like years ago, considering all that had happened between them since then, though in reality it had been a little less than six weeks ago.
Snape made to pull away when the glass was half-empty, and she removed it, withdrawing her hand from behind his head, too. He relaxed into the pillows with a sigh and closed his eyes as she set the glass on the drawers beside the bed.
She stayed where she was, perched carefully on the edge of the bed, and studied his face. There were still dark circles under his eyes, but his skin looked almost normal again, pale as it was, a hint of stubble shadowing his cheeks even though McGonagall had made a habit of spelling away the growth each morning.
After a short time, he eyes opened again and cleared his throat, managing to croak, "So, it would seem I'm alive, after all."
She nodded, folding her hands in her lap and looking down at them.
"You gave us quite a scare, you know," she said quietly.
"How long have I been here?" he asked, and she could feel his eyes on her face.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and met his gaze. "Almost a week."
"A week?" He stared at her in disbelief as she nodded. His left arm was at his side, under the sheet, and after a minute he moved it across his chest, probing the spot where the knife had entered his body. She saw the outline of his hand move along the thin line that marked all that was left of the ordeal.
"It worked," he said finally, still fingering the scar. "It recognised Potter; I should have been fine."
"Yes, you should have," she replied, hesitantly adding, "but it didn't work quite the way Professor Dumbledore expected."
"What do you mean?"
Hermione bit her lip and looked away from him. Even if she could find the words to tell him the Dark Mark was gone, she didn't feel it was her place. True, she'd been the one to think of Harry as a means to save him, but after seeing Dumbledore's reaction to Snape's unmarred arm she felt the older wizard had the right to break the news – or at least be present when Snape was told.
She wondered if it felt any different, and whether Snape would notice of his own accord before they had a chance to tell him. Of course he would, given time, but his left arm was still hidden under the sheet at the moment.
"Hermione?"
His voice jolted her from her reverie, and she realised he was still waiting for a response to his question.
"I, uh," she faltered. "We're not exactly sure what happened after the blade came out... Do you remember anything?"
"No, I..." He frowned in thought. "I remember Potter taking hold of it, but then… nothing."
She nodded. Some part of her was glad that he didn't remember what had come afterwards, though she didn't think she'd ever forget his agonised screams, or the way his clawing nails left bloody gouges in his own skin.
Just recalling what had happened brought back the terror of the unknown magic, and she hardly realised she was crying until she felt a slightly roughened hand touch the wetness on her cheek.
She looked up, startled, to find him watching her with a pained expression.
"I'm sorry," she said, embarrassed, as she pushed his hand away and wiped self-consciously at the tears herself.
"No, I'm sorry," he said gravely. "I seem to be the cause of much of your distress, lately."
The sob of relief that had been gathering in her throat ever since he'd opened his eyes broke forth, turning into a half-choked laugh.
He looked at her in surprise, and she shook her head.
"No, it's not you... well, it is, but..." She knew she was babbling and took a deep breath. "It's just been a little overwhelming, to think that you were going to... and then to find a way to save you only for it not to work as it should have, and then this… this waiting."
He was watching her with a mixture of worry and wariness, as if she might break down at any moment, and she realised, not for the first time, that words weren't always adequate.
"I'm just glad you're okay," she said, and before he could respond she leant forwards, snaking her hands behind his bare back to embrace him tightly.
It was a rather awkward pose; she was perched on the edge of the bed, leaning over his half-raised body with her arms trapped between the warmth of his back and the coolness of the pillows. She didn't mind though, and neither did Snape, so it seemed.
He sighed, his breath close to her ear, and shifted slightly so he could wrap his free arm around her back, moving it in small, slow circles between her shoulder blades. She inhaled deeply, breathing in his earthy scent that she'd first thought was a result of all the potions ingredients he worked with. Even now, though, after a week away from his art, it still clung about him.
When she finally drew back, albeit reluctantly, the hand on her back lingered for a moment before dropping back to rest on the bed near where she sat. There was no trace of the awkwardness that had accompanied the aftermath of their scant few previous embraces, and Snape's eyes held a warmth of understanding she knew was mirrored in her own.
Far too much had passed between them – unspoken – when faced with the prospect of death than either of them could deny, and she, for one, didn't want to.
Hermione fleetingly wondered where Dumbledore's warning and Snape's decree of 'not yet' would stand now, given the circumstances. The Headmaster has made it clear through his announcement to the school last week that Snape would no longer be teaching. Whether Dumbledore had made the announcement assuming Snape was going to die, or for some other reason, was another matter.
If it were made known that Snape had survived, it would be suicide for him to venture beyond Hogwarts. Voldemort wouldn't make the mistake allowing him to leave his presence alive again.
Hermione had learnt never to try to second-guess the Headmaster, but all his actions so far – especially the secrecy, even within the Order – pointed to him letting everyone assume Snape was dead.
Pushing aside the selfish hope a student-teacher relationship no longer being a problem, and the thought of Snape's reaction to being forced to 'play dead' for an indeterminate amount of time, she turned her attention back to the man in front of her.
She realised he'd been watching her while she was deep in thought, and blushed, wondering if he knew what she'd been thinking. She saw him unsuccessfully try to stifle a yawn, and realised how exhausted he still looked, cursing herself for not noticing earlier.
She stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from the sheet, and said, "You should get some rest. Dumbledore will be here soon, and I'd imagine he has a lot to speak with you about."
It was a mark of how tired Snape was that he didn't protest, merely nodding and closing his eyes, their short discussion already having worn him out.
The same, errant lock of hair had fallen in his face, still turned slightly in her direction, and she reached out to brush it aside again. His eyes remained closed and, on impulse, she leant down once more and pressed her lips to his forehead in a feather-light kiss. His skin was warm and smooth.
As she drew back, his even breathing gave away the fact that he had already fallen asleep.
Exiting the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her, she realised it was the first time in a week she had been able to leave without fearing for what she would find when she returned. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and she felt she could actually turn her attention to other things without fear of maudlin distraction.
All her teachers and many of her classmates had noticed her troubled nature in the past week, but thankfully no one, with the exception of a few Slytherins, had made the connection between that and the mysterious disappearance of the Potions master. Judging from their snide comments, the Slytherins were confident the traitor was dead, but most students, unaware of both the Order and Snape's role in the organisation, were just glad they no longer had lessons with the Head of Slytherin, and didn't care to dwell on why he was no longer teaching.
She knew Dumbledore was glad the speculation was at a minimum, but it was a discomforting realisation that none of the students cared what had happened to someone who was a part of their daily lives, welcome or not.
She made her way across the sitting room and withdrew her wand, touching it to the handle of the lab door to unward it. In the past months working with Snape, he'd taken to leaving the door between the lab and his private quarters open more often than not while she was there. Since last week, though, and them learning Pettigrew had somehow gained access to the room, the door had remained firmly locked and warded at all times.
McGonagall and Dumbledore had added a host of new wards to the room, and the school as a whole, including the Animagus detection charms the Transfiguration teacher had been working on with the Ministry of Magic. Both teachers had assured Hermione she was perfectly safe working in the room now, but she still found herself looking uneasily over her shoulder at the slightest noise in the quiet lab.
Looking at the moon cycle chart above Snape's cluttered desk, Hermione realised it was a good thing she was above distraction tonight. Professor Lupin would need to start taking the Wolfsbane Potion in the next twenty-four hours if he were to avoid the effects of the approaching full moon.
She gathered the ingredients she would need from the cupboards and set about chopping, mashing and grinding, trying to maintain a balance between the speed and accuracy with which she'd seen Snape make the same preparations. Her own skills were good, but no match for a well-practised Master.
She still didn't feel completely confident in making the Potion but, even with Snape almost recovered, she didn't think he'd be in any shape to be standing over a cauldron for hours at a time in the immediate future, so she would do the best she could.
It was strange, she mused, given the potency of the moonfilly blood, that he wasn't one hundred percent recovered. She wondered, curious and a little frightened, at the strength the Dark magic possessed to be able diminish the effects of the most powerful healing substance known to wizard-kind.
About half an hour into her ingredient preparation, she heard a whoosh from the Floo in the sitting room and, a moment later, the Headmaster appeared at the lab door.
"Ah, Miss Granger," he said. "I take it Severus is awake, then?"
She set down her knife and stared at the omniscient old man. "Yes, but how did you-?"
Dumbledore chuckled, a twinkle present in his eyes that she had never thought she'd miss seeing until its absence this past week.
"I don't imagine you would have left his side were you not confident in his wellbeing," the Headmaster said, and she blushed.
"Well," she said defensively, gesturing to the ingredients spread out in front of her, "Professor Lupin needs the Wolfsbane tonight, so I couldn't leave it any longer to begin making it."
"Of course, of course," the Headmaster murmured, moving across the room and sitting opposite her as she resumed her work. "How is Severus?"
"He'll be all right," she said. "He's asleep again, and... he doesn't know about the Mark yet."
Dumbledore looked at her curiously, and she took a deep breath, scraping the last of the shrivelfig from the mortar into a dish.
"I just couldn't tell him," she explained. "I didn't know how to, aside from the fact it's not my place to do so."
"Not your place?" Dumbledore said, surprised. "Miss Granger, it is only through your brilliant idea that Severus is free of the Mark, not to mention alive at all."
"I know," she said quietly. "I just thought... I think you should be the one to tell him."
The Headmaster eyed her oddly for a moment, but then nodded appreciatively. At that instant, however, a loud exclamation reached their ears from the other room, a cry of surprise, shock and even fear. Dumbledore sprang to his feet, surprisingly agile for his age, and rushed from the lab to the sitting room, Hermione close on his heels. Pushing open the bedroom door with a bang, they stopped, both looking at Snape who, despite their entrance, had paid them no mind.
He was sitting up on the edge of the bed, bare-chested, the bedclothes flung aside. His right arm was holding his left in a deadly tight grip, and he was staring at the pale, unmarked skin of his upturned inner forearm.
That solved the problem of who should tell him, Hermione thought. Detachedly, she noticed the black pants he was wearing weren't the ones he'd returned to Hogwarts in last week, but soft, cotton sleep pants. She wondered how he'd come to be clad in them, and felt an odd and altogether inappropriate flash of jealousy at the thought of McGonagall changing him, even though she had most likely used a charm.
Neither Hermione nor Dumbledore advanced any further into the room, both watching Snape with a mixture of apprehension and relief.
As they watched, he rubbed the thumb of his right hand across the skin, each stroke becoming more vigorous, as though he sought to remove some trick or charm that was deceiving him. When the rubbing turned to scratching, and then clawing, Hermione moved past the Headmaster, cautiously approaching Snape.
By the time she reached Snape's side, there were bright red nail marks in the skin of his arm, and she closed her hand over his, stalling the movement.
He looked up at her, seeming startled to even find her in the room, but then his eyes took on a completely uncharacteristic pleading look as he said in a hoarse voice, "Make it go away."
She frowned in confusion, pulling her hand and his away from his arm to again reveal the unmarked skin.
"Make what go away?" she asked softly.
"This," he said, holding his arm out a little. "This... concealment, this charm, whatever is covering it up."
"There is no charm, my boy," Dumbledore said, finally stepping further into the room to stand in front of the Potions master. "Tom's Mark is gone."
"I-" Snape looked at Hermione again, confusion and disbelief evident in his expression.
"It's true," she said, releasing his hand with a small squeeze.
"You're free, Severus," Dumbledore added softly.
Snape stared at Headmaster for a long moment before dropping his gaze back to his arm, and Hermione saw him swallow thickly. He brought his other hand up to trace the skin again, the slightly reddened scratches from his earlier ministrations the only contrast on the pale skin.
"I-" He broke off again, his hoarse voice catching in his throat as he raised a shaking hand to cover his eyes. In the next moment, he leant forwards to prop his elbows on his knees, bringing his face to rest in both hands. Hermione looked to the Headmaster, whose too-bright eyes were fixed on the Potions master. Looking back at Snape, his head still bowed, she saw his shoulders were shaking, and she realised with a start that he was crying; silent, heaving sobs of what could only be relief were wracking his thin frame at the realisation he was finally free of the bonds of his twenty-year-old mistake.
She made to reach out to him, but was stopped with a hand on her shoulder, and realised Dumbledore had moved to stand beside her.
"Come, Miss Granger," he said softly, taking her by the arm and leading her, confused, to the bedroom door. She glanced back at Snape as she was ushered out, still sitting with his head in his hands.
Dumbledore shut the door quietly behind them and turned to her.
"I think," he began, his own voice a little hoarser than usual, "that Severus needs some time alone to contemplate this discovery."
"Alone? Is that wise?" Hermione asked worriedly. "Surely he'll want to know how it came about, and..."
"I believe that explanation can wait a while," Dumbledore assured her. "I think Severus has enough to absorb at the moment. I have much to discuss with him, but I think tomorrow will suffice."
Hermione frowned a little, but nodded her acceptance of the Headmaster's wishes.
"I suppose I should get back to making the potion for Professor Lupin," she said, glad she at least had some excuse to stay nearby for a little while longer, in case Snape did want to seek an explanation tonight.
"Yes," he said, "and I shall inform Professors McGonagall and Lupin of the good news. I must thank you, Miss Granger, for all you have done this past week, and longer. It is not only Severus and Professor Lupin that are grateful for your assistance."
"Thank you, sir," she said with a small smile, and turned to go into the lab. As she reached to door, the Headmaster's voice stopped her, and she turned to where he was standing by the fireplace, a pinch of Floo in his hand.
"Miss Granger, if Severus does come seeking further explanation tonight, I would ask that you don't mention any other means we may have used to save his life beyond the removal of the dagger."
Dumbledore was watching her gravely, and she frowned. She knew what the Headmaster was referring to, and although she suspected Snape would be livid at the use of the moonfilly blood to save him, she still didn't like keeping the truth of the matter from him.
"For now," Dumbledore amended, seeing her hesitation. "Allow me to explain it to Severus when the time is right."
She nodded, then, and the Headmaster Flooed back to his own office while she went back to the lab.
Three or so hours later, having completed the potion to her satisfaction and bottled all but a goblet-full, she looked around the lab, making sure everything was clean and returned to its proper place. The copper goblet was sitting the edge of the bench nearest the door, awaiting delivery to the Defence professor, and she picked it up and left the lab, closing the door behind her and watching for a moment until she saw the dull blue shimmer of the wards.
Hesitating, she looked from the smoking goblet in her hands to the closed bedroom door. She'd not heard a sound from the room since she and Dumbledore had left it earlier, and it both worried and comforted her in equal degrees. Perhaps Snape was resting, exhausted after the physical drain of the last week, or perhaps he was still sitting where they'd left him, unsure of how to deal with the shock of being both alive and free.
She looked at the goblet again. It was freshly brewed; it wouldn't hurt to delay its delivery by a few minutes.
She set it down on the coffee table and walked slowly over to the bedroom door. She knocked softly and a moment later, after no response and no sound from within, she cracked the door open just enough to peer inside.
"Severus?" she called softly, spotting his prone form on the bed, the torches on the wall still lit as they had been earlier. He didn't answer and appeared to be asleep, but she crept fully into the room and up to the bed, just to make sure.
He was lying on his side, his right arm gripping his left forearm tightly again, as though he was trying to stop the Mark creeping back onto his skin during his slumber. He was on top of the rumpled sheet, giving the impression he'd fallen asleep without purposely going to bed. The light red line of the knife scar was visible under his bony ribcage, and she had to resist the urge to reach out and touch it. What is it about scars? she thought, recalling the time she'd so curiously uncovered the clawed marks of the werewolf, now hidden on the other side of his body.
She looked at his face, half-obscured by his hair, but there seemed to be no trace of his earlier distress. He looked calm, but as she watched she saw a slight shiver run through his body. She touched his arm lightly with the back of her hand and realised he was cold to the touch. Spotting the dark blue comforter folded over the end of the bed, she retrieved it and draped it over him carefully. In his exhaustion, he didn't even stir.
Dampening all the one of the torches with a flick of her wand and a murmured spell, she left him to rest, again feeling the same sense of relief at knowing he was, for the most part, safe and well.
She Flooed through to the Headmaster's office, which was empty, and then made her way to the Defence classroom and Professor Lupin's office, hoping it would still be there at such a late hour; it was almost midnight.
"Hermione!" said Lupin, ushering her in the moment he opened the door. "I was hoping I'd be seeing you tonight."
She smiled, handing him the goblet when he sat at his desk, gesturing for her to take the opposite seat.
"I'm afraid it may not be quite the potency of Severus' brew," she said apologetically as he raised the goblet and sniffed its contents. The Defence teacher had seen enough of her interaction with the Potions master in the last week not to question her familiar use of his name.
"I'm sure it will be perfect. I'm lucky to have someone else who can brew it," he said, and proceeded to drink it down quickly. Setting the empty goblet on the table a moment later, he added with a small chuckle, "It certainly tastes the same."
"I shouldn't have to make it much longer, anyway," she commented. "Has Professor Dumbledore spoken to you tonight?"
Lupin nodded. "About Severus? Yes, that's good news, isn't it?"
Hermione nodded, too, murmuring, "I was beginning to wonder if it would ever be good news."
Lupin fixed her with a contemplative look. "It was looking grim for a while," he agreed. "Severus is lucky to have a friend like you; you've saved his life twice in the past week, not to mention all the help you've been to him these past months."
"I wouldn't call it saving his life so much as being the right place at the right time," she said honestly, "but I consider myself lucky to be able to call him a friend, too."
The Defence teacher chuckled. "That is a privilege very few can claim."
"I know," she said quietly, the mood suddenly serious again.
"How did he take the disappearance of the Dark Mark?" Lupin asked after a moment.
Hermione swallowed. "Not well," she said. "He didn't... I think he was almost afraid to believe it had gone."
Lupin nodded. "I can imagine he would be quite shocked, having lived with it for so long. Its absence, though welcome, will take some getting used to."
Hermione watched the Defence professor carefully, a pensive look on his face as he gazed at a spot somewhere above and to the left of where she was sitting.
"Almost like being cured of lycanthropy," she said quietly, realising the soft-spoken teacher knew exactly what it was like to be trapped in a life that so often spun out of his control.
"Quite," he said agreeably. "I'm fortunate to have temporary relief from my affliction in the form of the potion, though. I wouldn't dare hope for a permanent cure such as Severus has received."
"It's only a matter of time until someone finds one," she mused. "The potion may only be temporary, but it's a step towards a permanent cure."
"Ten points to Gryffindor for optimism," he said with a smile, which she returned. After a moment of silence, he added, "And don't let yourself worry about Severus. I daresay you've done enough of that lately. He just needs some time to come to terms with his newfound freedom; it may take some getting used to after all these years."
Hermione nodded. Lupin's advice made sense, coming from perhaps the person closest to being able to understand Snape's situation, though she wondered just how much freedom Snape would find himself with, once Dumbledore had his say in the matter.
To be continued
Author's Note: Thanks, as always, to everyone who has read and reviewed! I do respond to them all, so if you've left a review asking a question, take a moment to read my response!
Aguamenti is canon, from HBP, and conjures clear water into an existing container.
This chapter is a little shorter (like, a few thousand words – lol) than the previous few, but chapter length throughout the whole fic is pretty erratic – I just stop where it feels right to break the story. does Forrest Gump impersonation "You never know what you're gonna get!"
Crying!Snape has always been one of my pet hates because it usually seems so out of character for him. I think, though, under the circumstances here, it's justified – twenty years is a long time to live with something and finally be free.
As always, you can find the next chapter at the On-line Wizarding Library – owl dot tauri dot org
