Author's Note: Again, thank you everyone for the feedback and the alerts and faves. Much appreciated :)
Picking up with tea. More obvious bonding, and a bit of the romantic undercurrent cropping up now.
Hope In The Horror
When Snape came back into the room, it was with a dish towel in hand, and tea tray levitating along behind him. The tray he left hovering in mid-air as he leaned over to tuck the towel under Hermione's chin, covering over the top of the blanket.
"Spillage," he murmured to her questioning look. And she gave him a bit of an embarrassed twitch of her lips, "right, the water was an issue wasn't it?"
His expression softened.
"The tremors will subside more and more with each dosage. They're only affecting you so much right now, because there is so much for them to do. As we get to the latter stages of your healing, it will be a matter of cellular fine tuning, so not only will the pain have substantially subsided by then, but the side effects will have as well. Now then . . ."
And he made a swirling motion with his hand . . . even under the circumstances, it was impressive to see his wandless magic . . . and the serving tray circled around him, came down, and hovered low over her chest.
Her brow wrinkled slightly when she looked to the offerings he had prepared for her. There were two cups of tea, a glass of water, and something . . . else.
"What's that in the bowl?" She asked lightly, hoping to keep the concern out of her tone.
It looked awful.
"Oatmeal," Snape responded flatly, while giving Miss Granger an appraising look, "and I am taking from the wrinkle in your nose that you do not like oatmeal."
"What?" Her eyes widened slightly as they snapped up to his, "no, no, of course it's fine. It was very kind of you to make it," her lips set in a bit of a wry grimace as she looked at the brown mush, "and I'm sure it's quite nutritious."
It was a ridiculous thing to be concerned about at such a time, how enjoyable her teatime snacks were, but it was just that it really did look quite disgusting.
Like something that had already been eaten and afterwards regurgitated for another meal.
But then she heard Snape clear his throat, and her gaze shifted back up to his.
"Oatmeal is the most nutritious thing you can ingest at this time," he let out on a heavy, put upon sigh, "but if you finish all of it, you may have a Jammie Dodger as well."
"You buy Jammie Dodgers?" Her raspy voice pitched slightly in surprise, because it just seemed like such an oddly domestic, supremely muggle, item to discover in the kitchen of a former Death Eater.
But then she saw the former Death Eater in question roll his eyes at her while muttering, "Merlin, give me strength." That was followed by a call over his shoulder of, "Accio, Jammie Dodgers!"
There was a rattle of a cabinet from the kitchen as it whipped open and snapped close, then a second later the familiar red packet came flying through the open doorway.
Snape caught it with a smack on his palm.
"Jammie Dodgers!" he sneered while dangling them over her face. And his response, and the look of complete DISGUST he was giving her(!), was just so insane, that even with everything going on, somehow, Hermione bubbled out a hiccup of laughter.
It had been so long though since she had felt the kind of joy that led her to laugh about ANYTHING, that she was immediately overwhelmed by a sob of despair rising up. And it was so perfectly her life now that any degree of laughter would lead directly to tears.
She tried to cover over her gasp by pretending she was coughing.
Snape was clearly not fooled.
This was obvious in how he winced and closed his eyes for a moment.
"I am sorry for upsetting you," he murmured after a moment, while rubbing his hand across his forehead. "I," he opened his eyes to look at her, "sometimes I find myself still getting defensive about things of little to no consequence. It is not a uh," he let out a heavy sigh, "a flattering character trait."
"No," she sniffled, "it's fine. It's nothing. It's me. Your reaction was very funny, actually, but my stress levels are so elevated that I find it difficult to process emotions normally anymore." She swallowed, "most things lead to tears. I think it would generally be agreed that is also not a," and she gave him a look then, "flattering character trait."
"Well," Snape responded softly while reaching out to place the package of biscuits on the tea tray, "perhaps once we are able to address the larger situation you need to discuss with me, your stress levels will decrease and you will feel able to exert a bit more emotional control. And if you cannot," he straightened up, giving her a kind look, "if you would like, I can teach you some techniques to assist you in covering the gap in what no longer comes easily to you."
For a moment they just looked at once another as she bit down on her lower lip, the one he had just fixed, then she tipped her head.
"I would appreciate that," she answered quietly, her voice heavy with emotion, "thank you."
Having been away from him for so long, Hermione had forgotten about these kinds of tangible benefits that came in having access to Severus Snape. The knowledge he had after the life he'd lived.
He really could help her in ways beyond just this crisis.
"All right then," Snape let out a heavy breath as he reached for the spoon he'd place on the tray, "let us attempt to get some of this slop into you before it transfigures itself into something truly unappetizing."
The last he said while dipping the utensil into the bowl of mush, and he couldn't help but note that Miss Granger's mouth quivered openly for his faint effort at humor. This time a sob did not follow.
Good.
After making her cry twice in less than twelve minutes, he really did owe her a bit of jocularity. In the meantime though, he began carefully feeding her the small bowl of oatmeal. Every other bite he alternated with giving her either a sip of tea or water to help her swallow everything down more easily. It was strange feeding a grown woman in such a fashion, and it unexpectedly brought back memories of the one time he'd fed Draco as a baby. To his surprise, as he dug the spoon back into the mush, he actually murmured that point out loud.
"Oh, I always forget you knew Draco as a baby," Miss Granger exclaimed in surprise. "What was he like then?"
His eyebrow inched up.
"Gassy."
Hearing the faint giggle his answer elicited, brought an unexpected jolt of warmth to Snape's core. So as he leaned in and brought the spoon back to her mouth, he decided to answer her question properly.
"If you are genuinely curious," he continued on, and she gave him a nod as she swallowed, "then I will say that he was an exceptionally kind child."
Noting her look of disbelief, he tipped his head.
"I know, that may not mesh with the boy that you met as a First Year, but by then he had been exposed to too much of Lucius' pureblood nonsense. When he was," he let out a huff, "gassy, he was oblivious to the ideologies that would eventually lead to his family's downfall. The Malfoys are many things, but they do genuinely love one another, and when he was small, all Draco knew of the world was that love. His soul was pure then."
Hermione's expression softened.
"That's actually very sweet," she whispered, and then huffed, "too bad Lucius and Narcissa screwed him up later."
"Yes, well," Snape's jaw twitched as his voice faded off, "yes." Then he cleared his throat as he looked back at her.
"That was one of the reasons why I took the Unbreakable Vow," he continued on with a sharp nod, "I mean," he tipped his head while continuing dryly, "there were obviously many reasons, but I knew that boy had a pure soul buried in there, so the thought of him making the same mistakes that his father and I had made at his age, grieved me. It was a great vindication to find out later on that he had switched sides before the end." His voice faded.
"I am proud of him."
For a moment there was silence there between them, and that's when Snape realized that he'd been holding an empty spoon in his hand while he bared his innermost thoughts to a woman in a way that he never had before. His face began to get hot.
He was mortified.
Though when he risked a glance through his fringe over to the woman in the bed, he found not the disdain he feared, but an openness there. Her expression was kind.
Then she smiled.
It was sad, but he could see that it was genuine.
"Thank you for sharing that with me," she whispered, "and you're right to be proud of him. I mean for me, and for the boys, being on the side of light was obvious from the beginning. For the boys, everyone they knew and respected was already there. And for me clearly it was a matter of self-preservation. But for Draco, he had to choose to go against everything he knew, and everyone he loved, just to follow his conscience." She tipped her head, "that's admirable."
If anyone had ever told a young Hermione that she would one day be extolling the virtues of Draco Malfoy while Severus Snape spoon fed her a bowl of rapidly congealing oatmeal, she would have thought they'd lost their mind.
Turned out that all that was needed for that turn of events to come to pass, was for her to lose her own.
Her response though had clearly put Snape at ease, which was good, as she saw that flush in his cheeks fade off. It was curious seeing him with that much color, she thought abstractly, he'd always been so pale. At least he looked healthier now than he had when she was in school. Of course not playing a triple agent and getting tortured on a regular basis by the darkest wizard who had ever lived, probably had something to do with that. Still, she thought it best not to comment on his improved appearance, given how likely it was to bring that red hue back to his skin. So after him giving her a slight nod of acknowledgement for her comments on Draco, they continued on with her oatmeal, this time now in silence.
Though it was an amiable one.
Between the water and the tea and the bowl of glue, it took them at least another ten minutes to finish her meal. After he'd given her the last sip of tea . . . he'd barely touched his own . . . he put down her cup, and reached over to pick up the packet of biscuits.
"No," she let out on a slow exhale, "it's okay, thank you, you can see save them for later. I don't think I could um," her nose wrinkled slightly, "well, I don't think I could eat anything else right now. My stomach has probably reduced a bit."
"Let me guess," Snape shot back with a bit of an edge as he dropped the biscuits back on the tray . . . they rattled her empty cup, "you haven't eaten in three days either?"
Noting by the embarrassed dip of her head and the murmured, "it's been busy," that his assessment was dead on, he shook his head.
The anger was clear on his face.
"No matter how bad things have been, Miss Granger," his tone was firm and brokered no room for discussion of these points, "you cannot continue to starve yourself. I understand how one can become distracted in times of stress, and end up skipping meals unintentionally, I have done this myself. But I would hazard that you have lost nearly two stone since I last saw you at St. Mungo's. And outside of you having been kidnapped and locked in a cupboard, three DAYS of skipping meals, is clearly intentional. And so long as you are under my wards," he shot her a look, "or seeking my counsel, this type of self-harm will not continue."
Whatever else came of their time together now, this 'suicide by degrees' that she had apparently been practicing, it was coming to an end. If he was going to have to continue to live in this world, he was going to make damn sure that she did too.
And she wasn't going to do it as a walking skeleton.
Noting then how her eyes filled with tears as she gave him a grim nod, he was at least satisfied to see that his point had been made. Then she tipped her chin towards the crinkly red package that he'd dropped back in front of her.
"I think I could manage half a biscuit," she whispered while looking up at him, "if that wouldn't be too much bother to share with me."
"No," he answered with a slow shake of his head . . . the heat had faded from his tone, "it wouldn't be too much bother to share."
It was a compromise, one that he was happy to oblige if it would help to set her on the proper path again. So he tore open the crinkly wrapper and slipped out one biscuit, which he promptly snapped in half.
He made sure most of the jam stayed on the larger side.
The smaller piece he popped into his own mouth, the larger he snapped in half again before feeding Miss Granger the first of those two tinier, crumbly, pieces.
As she began to chew, slowly and deliberately, he found his expression shifting.
"So you see," he said with a quirk of his brow while swallowing his own bite, "it is not so difficult to eat a little more, is it?"
"No," she sniffled and looked up at him with a faintly watery smile, "it's not so difficult. Thank you for reminding me of that fact, and for sharing with me."
"Yes, well," he harrumphed while reaching out to tap his wand on his now cold cup of tea . . . it began to steam again, "a biscuit is a biscuit, and a biscuit should not be refused without good reason."
Hearing a faint huff from the woman in the bed, his eyebrow quirked up.
"Yes?"
And he saw her mouth quiver.
"I'm sorry," she gave him a sheepish smile, though tinged with melancholy, "it's just so different talking to you now, as an adult. You're quite amusing. I only wish," and her smile faded completely, "well, I wish we had reconnected for different reasons."
For a moment he just looked over at her, then he tipped his head.
"To be completely honest Miss Granger," he answered plainly, "if not for the dire circumstances in which you fell back into my life, I'm not sure I would have allowed any reconnection at all."
Her expression softened at that.
"I suppose that's true," she answered with a heavy breath, "so I guess I'll just have to take this as the silver lining on a very dark cloud."
Though Snape had some thoughts on the rarity of finding any silver linings in life, it had not been his experience that they came to men like him, he chose not to share those thoughts aloud. They would serve no purpose. So instead he downed his reheated tea in a few quick gulps . . . he really just wanted it for the caffeine . . . served Miss Granger the last bite of her biscuit with another few sips of water, and they were done.
Finally.
Once he had sent the tray off to the kitchen, and done a light Evanesco to clear the biscuit crumbs and dried oatmeal bits from Miss Granger's mouth and blanket, he pulled the last potion phial from his pocket.
"All right," he pulled out the stopper, "this one should take us to about nine or ten pm depending on how your underlying exhaustion plays into things. Either way," he leaned over to press the phial to her lips, "the timing will line up well with the stronger pain potion I've had brewing. It will be ready by ten, and if you're awake by then, you can have it immediately. If you wake up sooner than that, we'll just get your dinner into you first."
"More oatmeal?" Miss Granger asked with a light quirk of her brow, and his own brow inched up in return.
"Perhaps," he answered flatly, "or perhaps it will be something else. You will have to wait and see."
Seeing the corner of her mouth twitch, Snape shook his head and pulled out his wand to get her resituated on the bed. It took just a few muttered spells and she was once more lying flat on her back with a normal sized pillow under her head. Then he leaned over to fix her blanket properly.
Some things were best done without magic.
"Rest well, Miss Granger," he whispered while tucking the material over her shoulders, "and my earlier instruction stands. If you need me, just scream."
Seeing her nod as she bit back a yawn, it was clear that the sleeping potion was affecting her much more quickly this time. Likely a combination of her pain now being in a much more manageable state for having some level of potion still in her system, and of course her having a full stomach. Digestion could often make one drowsy.
Either way he could see her fading off even as he stood there.
"Please don't go too far, sir," was the last thing she mumbled as her eyes fell shut. His jaw twitched, and though it was not previously in his nature to be so tactile with his affections, he reached up to place his hand on the top of her head with his palm cradling her crown. He left it there for a moment.
He said nothing.
Once he was sure she was out, he stepped back with a sigh. Then he turned and did a quick series of spells first to tidy the room, and then to restock the wood pile by the fireplace from the surplus out in the mud room. And feeling the chill settling into the air, the autumn days were getting shorter, after sending one of the newly stacked logs onto the fire itself, he did an "Accio my quilt," to get the covering off his bed upstairs. When the blanket came flying through the open doorway, he put his hand up to slow the speed before it smacked him in the face.
This time he didn't bother with transfiguring the fabric as it was not intended to be in direct contact with Miss Granger's skin. All he did was give it a spin through the air to stretch it out so it would cover over the blanket she already had on.
Layers were important in warding off a chill.
Again, like last time, the last thing he did before he left her sleeping alone in the room, was to set a charm. This time it was one he'd just realized would ease Miss Granger's communications with him. And seeing then that he'd done all that he could for her, and desperately needing to now know how she could have forgotten to eat for three days, he picked up her wand from where he'd placed it on the edge of the coffee table.
It was time to run a few Prior Incantantos.
/*/*/*/
The next time Hermione startled awake, it was to the scent of cloves and amber. Her anxiety immediately lessened as her brain made the connection in her mind.
Snape.
It's what he had always smelled like, but in the past, outside of the occasional life and death incident . . . or a randomly shared meal at Grimmauld Place . . . obviously there was usually a bit more physical distance between them. On this day though, with them being in such close proximity, that smell, combined with the wood smoke from the fire, had become the dominant one filling Hermione's olfactory senses. And she realized that she was smelling it so strongly now, not because the man himself was right next to her, but because she seemed to be covered over in another one of his blankets.
One that he'd used more recently than the transfigured one he had put on her earlier in the day.
The smell was warm and rich, and genuinely a comfort. So much so that she wished that she could lift the fabric up to her face to breathe it in a little more deeply. But . . . she let out a heavy sigh as she looked around the small room lit only by the glow from the crackling fire . . . it probably wasn't a good idea to be rubbing any kind of material on her face just yet. At least not until Snape assured her that she actually had a layer of skin back on there again. Yeah . . . she took another slow breath to push down the fresh panic that came with thinking about her injuries . . . skin would be good. She couldn't wait to have skin again.
She also couldn't wait to have another dose of pain potion, because BLOODY HELL did it feel like she was on fire!
"Sir," she called out with a quiet tension, because she didn't want to be the frightened woman who screamed for him literally every time she woke up. Though to her surprise, though she'd made an effort to speak in a more conversational tone, the word that came out of her mouth sounded like it came from a megaphone.
It was quite loud!
So of course it was just a few seconds later that she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and then there was Snape coming through a hidden doorway and into the sitting room.
When he saw the look of surprise she was giving him, he shrugged.
"Amplifying charm," he explained with a wave of his wand to end the spell, "I thought of it after you fell asleep. I figured that way you wouldn't need to strain your vocal chords. They've had enough trauma already today. So now then," his eyes widened with a slight expectation, "on a level of one to ten, how is the pain?"
Her nose wrinkled as she considered her answer . . . then she lied through her teeth.
"Seven point five, maybe, eight."
His eyebrow inched up.
"So that's a nine then?" He asked dryly. And her mouth quivered slightly as she gave him a pained smile.
"Yes," she let out on a relieved huff that she didn't need to put on a brave start for him, "a solid nine . . . ish. Definitely not a ten though," she shook her head, "ten was coming through the fireplace."
"Hmm," he hummed, "yes, well," he pulled a phial from his pocket, "nine'ish" he put emphasis on the 'ish, "is certainly bad enough. But fortunately we have the new solution brewed now, and you timed it just right, so," he leaned over, "open up."
So she did, he pressed the phial to her lips, and poured the blue'ish green liquid down her throat.
Unlike most of the potions she'd been drinking, which ranged from tasteless to quite nasty (with no positive stops in between) this one was different.
"Hmm," she exhaled slowly while licking her upper lip, "it actually tastes good. Kind of minty."
"Yes, well," he gave her a wry look, "that would be the mint. It doesn't call for it, but it has no affect on the effectiveness of the potion, and I thought you might like something to offset the taste of the dominant ingredient."
Her eyebrow quirked up.
"What is the dominant ingredient?"
"The excrement from a Peruvian Vipertooth Dragon," he answered flatly, half over his shoulder as he sorted through the other potions in her healing regiment.
She looked at his back for a moment, judged that he was not actually joking, and tipped her head.
"Good call then on the mint, sir."
"Yes," he turned back, raising an eyebrow imperiously, "I thought so as well. Now then," he stepped forward with the now usual (fluid) suspects in clinking hand, "let us continue."
So they did, one after another and with much less difficulty than last time as the damage to Hermione's throat was healing, so she was able to swallow more easily. By the time they reached the end, perhaps three minutes later, and she had passed through the now usual shudders with him holding her fingers, she felt a peculiar, effervescent, feeling suddenly begin to spread throughout her body.
Her toes began to tingle.
"Oh," she let out surprised gasp as her eyes snapped up to Snape's slightly concerned ones – he obviously didn't know what she was gasping about, "that new pain potion is wonderful! Is it . . ."
And she paused for a moment as her brain worked through the sensations she was feeling, then she had it.
"It triggers an endorphin release, doesn't it?!" She asked with a huge grin, because good Merlin, she just felt AMAZING! And she could tell from the slight shifting in Snape's features that he was impressed she had figured it out.
"Very good, Miss Granger," he answered with a tip of his head, "it does indeed trigger an endorphin release. So that in combination with the underlying blocking of the pain sensors, will leave you in a somewhat more euphoric state. For the moment anyway."
"Only for the moment?!" She whinged with a faint pout, "but this as good as I've felt in forever!"
For a second Snape's attention lingered on the sad pout, it was causing him an unexpected twinge of distress. Then he blinked and shook his head to focus.
"I am sorry, Miss Granger," he answered her with genuine regret, "I do wish that element of the potion could last until your body is fully healed, but you can imagine the susceptibility it would have for abuse if such an effect was indefinite. As it is, the tingling sensation will subside shortly, but you should still feel better than you have. You can have another dose in twelve hours, and most likely you'll need one final one to get you to sleep tomorrow night. After that," he gave her an appraising look, "hopefully your body will be mostly your own again."
That was the goal, to have the worst of her injuries healed within seventy-two hours. Given the degree of damage, it was a lofty goal, but she was coming along. Again, he could see the subtle improvements in her features since her last set of dosings. Her limbs, he couldn't judge now that he'd covered her in the dressing gown and gloves, but he had no reason to think everything wasn't progressing at the same pace. In the meanwhile, with her now staring down at her silk covered fingers with a slightly wistful smile, again an expression that caused an unexpected twinge in his gut . . . either he was in digestive distress or he was developing an unexpected attachment, Merlin help him . . . after he'd gotten her sitting up in the bed again, he set about getting her dinner.
Of course as it was now nearly ten, he had eaten his own dinner hours ago, but it had been oddly lonely having the meal without her, even though he had of course been having meals utterly alone for over a year now. But . . . he shot her a look over his shoulder as he left the room . . . it was alarming how easy it had been to get accustomed to having her company, even if he had done all he could to deny her reentry into his life.
He let out a sigh as he entered the kitchen, because he knew that this attachment, whatever it was, was not good for him. Mostly because it could not last. Once she had recovered, and he had helped her with whatever hell forsaken issues which had brought her stumbling through his floo to start, she would be back in her old life again. One where she had friends and a future.
And he would once more be alone.
Still, even with these thoughts in his head as he prepared her meal, he could think only of what would make her happy. Somehow he managed to do it even with the minimal offerings he had in the cabinets . . . he really needed to do a run to the shops . . . and given how he'd decided to cook her meal with magic, (the VERY old fashioned way), he was on his way back into the sitting room not five minutes after he'd left. And when he returned to Miss Granger's bed, and swirled the tray around to hover over her stomach, he found his eyes crinkling at her squeal of delight at what she saw there. It was a grilled cheese, extra cheese, with a side of hot chocolate, two marshmallows.
His wand had been quite helpful in slicing the sandwich into six, bite sized, morsels.
"Oh, but these are my favorites!" She laughed while looking up at him with a warm smile . . . the endorphins clearly had not faded yet, "however did you know?!"
"That summer at Grimmauld Place," he answered with a shrug, "more than once I showed up after a meeting with the Dark Lord, and found you huddled up in the corner of the kitchen with a grilled cheese and a hot chocolate." He gave her a wry look.
"It was clearly your midnight snack of choice."
Her eyes crinkled.
"It was," then her expression softened, "we were all under so much stress then, and it was the only thing that made me feel better when I couldn't sleep." She was quiet for a moment before her lip quirked up again.
"You liked buttered toast with a sprinkle of sugar and cinnamon, and a cup of Earl Grey, splash of cream, spoonful of honey."
Apparently seeing his eyes widen in shock, she let out a slight huff, though there was no amusement in it.
"I remember that summer pretty well too," she answered softly, "you were under more stress than any of us, and I realized after about two weeks of watching you from over my book, that if Molly didn't think to leave you a plate of food, that was what you made for yourself. After that, I always made sure there was a fresh loaf of bread out on the table for when you came out of your meetings with Dumbledore."
Feeling a jolt of something in his chest, Snape looked down at her in wonder.
"That was you?" He whispered in astonishment, "I thought it was Kreacher, though saying it out loud it really makes no sense that he would do such a thing."
"No," her lips curved in a faint smile, "it was me. Molly would bake bread in the mornings, and I'd always steal a loaf and hide it to make sure there would be one left for you. Back then, you remember, there wasn't much I was allowed to do to help with the war effort, so I figured that was the one way I could make myself useful."
Of course to be REALLY useful, she could have made him the snack herself, but given how he was her professor, and she had been very much underage, it would have been a little odd if she'd been THAT attentive to his emotional needs. Not to mention, Sirius would have nettled him mercilessly if he'd ever found out.
No, simply leaving him the loaf of bread (in secret) had been the best compromise.
And she could see in the appearance of a faint, unexpected, sheen in his eyes, (one which he quickly blinked away) that her giving him this information now, had touched him. Deeply.
Then he reached over and put his hand on the back of her head. His voice was thick when he spoke.
"Thank you," he whispered with a gentle rub of her scalp, "that was, that was most kind."
For almost two full months, that fresh loaf of bread had been sitting there on the same chipped blue plate, waiting for him after every one of his meetings with Dumbledore. Every meeting where he'd had to recount whatever horrible things that he'd seen or heard (or had done to him) at the Dark Lord's side, and then had been given another horrible counter instruction from his other master. All he'd want then was his cup of Earl Grey to settle his nerves, and that damned cinnamon toast to settle his soul. The toast was something that his mother had made for him when he was a boy, but only when he was sick.
It was something that made him feel better.
Not that Miss Granger had any way of knowing that, nor did he have any intention of telling her about that part of his childhood now. It would be a little too much baring of his soul for one lifetime. The fact that her revelation had touched him so deeply, and obviously, was enough exposure for this day. So with a final, gentle, stroke of his fingers along her scalp, he pulled his hand away. And then, though he could clearly see Miss Granger looking at him like she wanted to say something more, he pulled her tray closer.
He cleared his throat.
"Time to eat."
/*/*/*/
Hermione's dinner passed in silence, with Snape feeding her as slowly and carefully, as he had that afternoon with her lunch. And because he had made such an effort to make a meal that she would actually enjoy . . . no more of that hideous oatmeal . . . she made herself eat every crumb that he brought to her lips, even though she was feeling rather full at least three bites, and four sips, before the end. But he was right about the reasons behind her weight loss. Yes, she had been punishing herself for the horrible things she had done. It wasn't the way to fix her mistakes though. There might not be a way to properly fix them, and she would deal with that devastation if it came to pass, but in the meantime, she was still holding onto her hope that Snape would be able to help. Her expression softened as he gently dabbed away a drip of cocoa from her chin.
At least she knew he would try.
After Snape had cleared away Miss Granger's tray with a wave, he stood back and looked down at her.
"Are you ready for the sleeping draught?"
Though she had barely been awake maybe ninety minutes of the last twelve hours, he knew that sleep was still the best thing for her.
Even if he wouldn't have minded having her company for a bit longer.
But then he saw her nose twitch in response to his question about the sleeping draught, right before she cleared her throat.
"Um, actually I need to use the bathroom first."
His lips pursed . . . damn, he had hoped they wouldn't have to deal with this until the morning.
"And how is your wandless magic?" He asked with a quirk of his brow.
"My wandless . . . oh."
Hermione trailed off as she realized what he was saying. She took a breath and looked back up at him.
"Not nearly as good as yours, I'm sure, but I think I can manage the spell if you can just help me get down there and back."
"I will cast another Mobilicorpus," he answered with a firm nod as he started to pull out his wand, "that will be the easiest way." But she quickly shook her head.
"Oh, no," her brow furrowed nervously, "please don't, sir. Losing complete control over my body is," she swallowed, "upsetting. Especially well," she made a gesture to her chest, "now. I know it'll be a pain for you, but please, if you can just help me walk down there?"
For a moment he just stared back, his jaw twitching as he clearly considered the potential for disaster in her attempting to navigate her way down the hall and back again, with a toilet stop in between. Finally he let out a heavy sigh.
"All right," he nodded, "if you are uncomfortable with that spell, then I promise I will not use it again outside of a dire emergency. Your plan to walk there though," he shook his head slowly, "even with assistance, that will not work. You haven't even stood in over twelve hours. Your muscles are taxed, your body is weakened, you are exhausted, undernourished, and if you fall, as I am sure you will, it would be disastrous." His lips pursed slightly as he looked her over.
"I will carry you."
Hermione's mouth opened . . . and then closed, because of course when he laid it all out like that, it was the only logical course of action. It was clearly another serious imposition, and incursion, into his personal space though. So much so, that she felt a pang of genuine regret when he reached out to pull back her blankets.
"I know this way is much more of an imposition for you, sir," she murmured as he cast the spell to help her sit up, "but Mobilicorpus just reminds me of something that happened during the war."
His eyes came up then to lock onto hers.
"You do not have to justify your discomfort," he answered softly, but firmly, "you said it upsets you, that is enough for me to promise not to use it again. Now then," he took a breath, "obviously we will need to be careful in regards to your injuries but, if you keep your hands tucked, that should be enough to ensure you don't catch them on the doorjambs."
"Right," she took her own breath, as he used another wandless spell to swing her legs around so they were dangling off the side of her bed.
For a moment he paused then, and thinking that perhaps he wanted her to do a bit of the work here herself . . . she was the one that needed to use the toilet after all . . . Hermione tried to simply wriggle forward on her bum so she could get to the edge of the mattress.
All she really ended up doing was bunching up her nightshirt.
And as soon as he realized what she was doing, Snape immediately hissed out a, "no!" as his hands fell to her bare thighs, pinning her in place, "be still! If you fall, you can't brace yourself!"
"Oh," she froze with a gasp, picturing the disaster that would have happened if she'd slid too far and hit the floor before he could catch her, "right. Stupid."
That was the point where they both realized where his hands were, and he quickly snatched them away with a faint growl. And before she could say anything, though she wasn't sure what it was she could say anyway because that one was her fault, not his, he was leaning back over to tug the soft black fabric over her knees again. Then with a heavy sigh, he stooped down and slid one arm under her now recovered legs, and the other arm around her back. And with a murmured, "watch your hands," he gently lifted her up from the bed, and tucked her against his chest.
For a moment he just held her close. His body was warm, and his arms felt surprisingly strong and muscular given his frame. It was all that cauldron lifting . . . she realized suddenly . . . he must be wiry. Another few seconds passed with her distracted by the thought of the surprising physique he'd apparently been hiding under those robes. Then she felt him let out a heavy breath as he murmured, "are you all right?" And she felt her breath catching at the tenor of his voice. Not to mention with his body that close, his hair was brushing her good ear, tickling the skin.
It was doing peculiar things to her stomach.
Still, the man had asked a question, and telling him that he was doing peculiar things to her stomach didn't seem to be the best answer to give. Not if she wanted to ever make eye contact with him again. So instead she just let out a soft, "yes, I'm okay. No pain."
Pain was probably the thing he was asking about, so it seemed the logical answer to give. Apparently it was, because then he murmured a, "good, then mind the doorways."
He started them across the room.
On any other day it might have seemed strange for Snape to be carrying her around this way, but today, it wasn't. Everything that he'd been doing to care for her, feeding her, brushing his fingers through her hair, it just seemed normal.
That was a thought to examine at a different time.
This moment would actually have been less awkward though, physically, if she'd just been able to put her hands on him to help keep herself steady in his arms. But her fingers clearly were not healed enough to allow such a thing. So instead she just kept them curled close to her stomach as Snape slowly walked her across the room and out into the front hall.
She'd never been in his house before, and had seen nothing of it outside of the sitting room, so this area was new. The only furniture present was a single, small, wooden table by what seemed to be the front door. It was the place where someone would keep their keys in a normal muggle household, so it came as some surprise to Hermione to realize that though this was a magical household, there was clearly a set of keys sitting there on that table.
She made a mental note to ask him about them later.
So the keys were normal, but it did sadden her to see how the clearly once pretty, blue flowered wallpaper running the length of that hall, was so obviously stained and faded now. Though it did at least seem to go with the half dozen or so muggle family portraits hanging on the paper.
The people in them looked stained and faded too.
"There's a half bath down here on the right," Snape explained quietly, "and a full bath upstairs to the left."
"Okay," she answered in the same pitch, careful to keep her sad thoughts about the state of his home out of her tone, "good to know for when I can do this myself."
When they reached the bathroom door he'd indicated a moment earlier, Snape shook his wand from his sleeve and with his 'free' hand (the one around her back) he waved it towards the closed door with an, "Evanesco."
Obviously noting her look of confusion, he tipped his head.
"The mirror."
Then he bit his lip and his features twisted as he looked down at her.
"Are you truly certain your wandless is up to this?" He asked with clear concern. "You know you have to keep your balance while maneuvering the nightshirt and your underwear before you even get to the urination."
Though in principle discussing her 'urination' with Snape should have been at least somewhat awkward, given Hermione's larger issues at the moment, like her hands still missing most of their skin, this one didn't really rate high on her concerns at the moment. So rather than getting embarrassed, like she would have as a teen, instead she just lifted one shoulder in a half shrug.
"Well," she bit her lip as she looked back and forth between Snape and the closed door, "I have to go, so I'm going to have to make it work somehow."
Then she focused back in on the way his jaw was twitching.
"Did you have a suggestion for me on how to manage this?" She asked with a quirk of her brow, "because it looks like you have something else to say."
His cheeks began to redden at her question.
"Well," he offered hesitantly, while giving her only a half glance, "I could deal with your clothing, and then all you would need to do was handle the cleansing spell."
Hermione was about to ask what he meant by "deal," when she suddenly realized from the way he was very particularly avoiding her gaze by staring at the floor, that he meant he could vanish all of her remaining clothing.
Basically she'd be asking Snape to strip her naked.
And thinking about it in that light, circumstances notwithstanding, caused that funny feeling to come back to her stomach again. It was absolutely ridiculous though to be having such thoughts at the moment, but in her haste to refocus her brain, and come up with literally ANY other plan of action outside of that one where he took all of her clothes off, she ended up blurting out the first alternate thought that popped into her head.
"Maybe you could put my wand in my mouth and I could cast the spell myself?"
The words had no sooner passed her lips, than Hermione realized how absolutely IDIOTIC they sounded out loud! And then seeing Snape's look of disgust at her suggestion, something akin to him pulling on a tutu to go strolling down Knockturn Alley, she immediately shook her head.
"Of course no," she blushed as her eyes fell away from his, "that was very stupid. That would not work."
"No," Snape spoke slowly, as though she were a dimwitted child, "no, it would not work. You cannot wave your wand with your mouth, Miss Granger, that is," he closed his eyes and shook his head, "no."
He must have given her too much of the new pain potion, that was all that could explain it. Either that or she'd completely lost her mind. And the trip down the hall from the sitting room was a little short for that to have happened on the way to the toilet.
Hermione bit her lip as she looked back to the man shaking his head at her from mere inches away.
All right yes, that was a complete dunderhead thing to say, but at least it had knocked the idiocy out of her brain. She had to pee, and he was going to have to help her do it, and that was all there was to it. And they really did need to get on with it, because not only was that pressure on her bladder increasing, but she was also beginning to get very tired again.
That endorphin release was definitely as short lived as advertised.
At the moment all she wanted to do was tip her head down and rest it against Snape's shoulder, but for many reasons, that very much did not seem like it would be a good idea. So instead she took a breath and let it out.
"Your plan makes the most sense," she stated quietly, "but can you do it through a closed door? Or do you have to be in there with me?"
Snape's expression shifted from the lingering bewilderment at her bizarre mouth/wand suggestion, to one of surprise at her new question.
"Oh no," he shook his head, "I can cast the vanishing spell through the door. But," he gave her a look, "I will need to come in to redress you. I will of course avert my eyes, but even my magic is not so precise as to work such a particular task without being in close proximity." His eyebrow quirked up.
"Will that be acceptable?"
As soon as he asked the question, in his perfectly Snape way, Hermione's minor discomfort with the situation, was immediately washed away. He was just so . . . her eyes crinkled faintly . . . proper. And it was a reminder that she trusted him not only to safeguard her privacy, but also her dignity.
He would make sure that they did this in a way that she wasn't embarrassed.
So she gave him a faint smile as she nodded.
"Quite acceptable, thank you. So whenever you're ready."
He tipped his head.
"Very well."
Then he took a breath, and with the hand he had wrapped around her back, he reached out to turn the knob to the bathroom door. As she was expecting, the mirror over the sink had been blackened, and there were no other reflective surfaces in sight. In fact, as it was only a half bath . . . put in at least a half century ago, if the state of the facilities were anything to go by . . . there was just the toilet and sink.
Not even a window.
Just as well, she thought with a touch of melancholy, she might have caught a glimpse of herself in the glass. In the meantime though, as Snape stepped forward and very carefully . . . while keeping her body close to his . . . began to lower her to the floor with the murmured instruction of, "brace your legs," she immediately refocused her thoughts on the matter at hand.
Standing upright.
Unfortunately, the tiles of the bathroom were ice cold even through her fuzzy socks. She could feel her toes curling up, which was really not at all helpful given how she was trying to keep her balance with already wobbly legs. And as she felt Snape's arms slide down from her shoulders to her lower back, as though he was about to step away, she felt a burst of panic.
"I'm going to fall!" She gasped, half into his throat
"No," he stated emphatically, while letting the hand on her side, slide around to her lower back, holding her steady, "you will not fall. I will not let you. I'm not letting go, not until you tell me. Just give your body a moment to adjust."
"It doesn't feel like it's going to adjust," she muttered nervously, wishing so badly that she could just reach out and grab onto his robes to keep herself anchored, "it feels like someone hexed me with jelly legs," she bit her lip, "they won't stop quaking."
It was a scary feeling to not be able to keep her own balance, but worse still to not even have the use of her hands to hold herself steady. But then she realized that she already was steady. Not by herself of course, but just with how closely Snape was still holding her. So closely that she was basically folded into his robes. His chest was pressed against her breasts and there was the tickle of his long hair, brushing lightly over her ear.
That funny feeling came back to her stomach.
Then he moved the hand on her shoulder, up, to cradle the back of her head. He began to rub her neck, under her hair. Her eyes closed as she let out a soft sigh.
It felt really nice, and it was definitely helping with her stress.
After a few moments though, she realized that there was tingling sensation beginning to spread out from where his fingertips were touching her skin. This time she knew it wasn't the pain potion.
"Oh," her eyes popped as she gasped against his throat, "is that your magic?!"
"Yes," Snape answered softly while pressing his fingertips a little more firmly into the pressure points on the back of her neck, "when you mentioned jelly legs, I was thinking that if only it was a jinx, I could fix that with my magic, and then it occurred to me that as you were already so close, that I could maybe fix your problem with my magic either way. Just a," he took a breath to focus his efforts, "little boost, one to help you over these next few minutes."
This was the first time that he had shared his magic with anyone before, and he hadn't known what it would feel like. It was interesting. Not just the tingling feeling in his fingertips, but the sensation of actually touching Miss Granger's magic, and knowing that her magic was her, he could feel how wounded she was. And not just from the physical injuries that she had suffered. Her soul was hurt too, and it pained him, deeply, to feel that damage there.
So he tried to fix it.
Hermione again closed her eyes, reveling in the sensations of warmth and safety that were filling her. And those sensations were coming not just externally, from having his arms around her, but internally as well. She could FEEL the glow of Snape's magic moving through her. It was a true entity, washing over every inch of her. It was steadying not only her nerves, and allaying her fears, but also giving her a physical strength that she hadn't felt in some time. The quivering in her legs subsided. The panic she had about falling was suddenly gone.
For just a second, for the first time in forever, all of her worries were gone.
Her eyes popped open then and she looked up to give him a warm, soft, smile.
"This is amazing," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "thank you."
His jaw twitched.
"Yes, well," he cleared his throat a bit awkwardly, somewhat amazed himself that his efforts to help her feel better had actually worked, "you are welcome, but do you feel any stronger? That was my hope here."
His hope was actually that not only would she be physically strong enough to move around, but that this small boost of magic would assist her in the wandless spell she would need to do on her own.
"Oh yes," she nodded and took a breath, straightening her back a bit, "definitely. It's funny actually," she looked down at her hands, "I can feel it running into my fingers too. I wonder," she bit her lip, for a moment considering trying to flex them, "I wonder if it will help them heal faster."
"I do not know," Snape answered honestly while also staring down at her covered fingers tucked between them, "but," he looked back up to her hopeful face, "it is possible." Then he shrugged, "we will have to see how it goes. Now then, if you are steady," he phrased the question as rhetorical, and she immediately nodded, "I am going to step out. After I close the door, I will vanish your remaining clothing and once you are done," he made a gesture to the toilet behind her, "with whatever you need to do, just call out and I will come back in and redress you, all right?"
"Yes," she nodded quickly, anxious now just to get this part done while she was feeling so good.
So they moved through the steps. He pulled away, slowly, and once she'd given him the nod that her legs were still okay, he gave her a nod, and turned away with a swirl of his robes. He was gone, the door had fallen shut and all of her clothes had disappeared . . . except for the gloves, because he remembered her fears even then . . . before she'd even blinked.
Her nipples immediately popped to attention at the sudden loss of warmth, because again, the room was freezing cold, which was all the more reason to get this task over and done. And with that, now left in simply those gloves and her stocking feet, she turned and shuffled . . . no matter how good she was feeling it seemed safer than walking . . . over to the toilet, and after taking a deep breath to brace her core muscles, she turned and lowered herself down.
It was stupid, but she'd never realized how much she'd taken for granted in having the free use of her arms and hands simply as counterbalance in how she moved in the world. Luckily though, once she was sitting, biology took care of itself. Then came the difficult part.
The cleansing spell.
Once upon a time, her wandless magic had been quite good, she'd actually practiced at it in third year once she'd realized how proficient both Snape and Dumbledore were with even complicated spells cast in that fashion. She'd become pretty proficient with complicated spells herself. But then a few months ago she'd tried to Accio her teacup with just a wave of her fingers and it had crashed to the floor of her lab. It had happened three more times before she'd finally accepted that her body had simply become too run down to conduct spells in that manner any longer.
She just didn't have the physical strength.
So it had been at least four months since she'd cast any spell without a wand. And for just a moment, she was afraid she still wasn't up to it, because when she cast the Evanesco . . . nothing happened. There was no sensation at all. A flash of panic started to spark that she was going to have to ask Snape to do THIS part for her as well.
Which really would just be too much embarrassment for one day.
But then thinking of Snape, she realized that she could focus in on his magic instead of her own, because she could feel it still swirling there in her body. So she closed her eyes, and ignoring all of her instincts to cast from her own core magic, sent a spell through those swirls that she could feel from his. Quickly, before she lost it.
Or the universe figured out what she was trying to do.
And it worked! Her face lit up with surprise and delight as she was suddenly clean! It was such a silly thing really to get so excited about, except it wasn't. Because she'd been able to take care of it without his help. Well . . . she let out a faint huff . . . at least without him knowing that he'd helped. The point though, was that she was done, and now she could get her clothes back. So she took another breath to brace those core muscles and came back to her feet. Then she shuffled herself over to the middle of the gleaming white bathroom . . . it might have been old, but everything was spotless . . . and called out, "sir! I'm done! You can come in now."
Again, the door was opening in a flash, and with a wave of his wand she felt her pants suddenly covering her again. The nightshirt followed a split second later, even before Snape had gotten the questions rapid fire out of his mouth.
"You are all right?! You didn't fall?!"
The worry was clear in his tone as his eyes locked onto to hers, and it touched her. So she immediately answered with a shake of her head, and a faint smile.
"No, no, I'm fine. I was just fine. And I was able to do the wandless with that little boost you gave me, so thank you again. Actually . . ."
And she didn't know what possessed her but suddenly she turned then, and without a thought, cast another wandless spell. That time to flush the toilet.
That time she nearly hit the hard tile floor.
It was only Snape's startled yell of, "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" that kept her from cracking her skull. And even as she felt her whole body freezing up, her head half a inch off the ground, he was diving down to catch her the old fashioned way.
The movements were pretty much neck and neck.
As he pulled her back into his arms, they both slumped to the floor and he released her from the freezing spell with an angry hiss. Even as she was trying to catch her breath, because bloody hell she had NOT expected that to happen(!), Snape shot her a thunderous scowl.
"YOU BLEW OUT YOUR LAST BIT OF MAGIC TO FLUSH THE TOILET?! ARE YOU MAD?!"
His voice was as thunderous as the scowl, and his anger was quite clearly genuine, but somehow, it didn't frighten her. Not at bit. Maybe it was the fact that even though he was screaming, he was rubbing her back while cradling her in almost a rocking motion. Not to mention, she could feel his heartbeat pounding against her chest. And that's when she realized . . . she'd frightened him.
He wasn't really angry at her. He was scared that she'd nearly done a Humpty Dumpty right there in front of him.
All just so she could flush the toilet.
So though she was at that point on the verge of genuinely passing out, somehow she managed to lift one of her gloves hands. She let it brush lightly through his hair so she could see his face.
"I'm sorry," she whispered with a sad smile as her hand fell back down between them, "I didn't mean to scare you. I didn't realize that would happen, or I never would have done it."
For a moment he just blinked, clearly in shock that not only had she touched his hair, but that she'd seemed to understand EXACTLY why it was that he was so upset. And as her eyes started to fall shut . . . she was definitely passing out . . . she felt him bring his hand up to the back of her neck. Then she heard him take a deep breath as he pressed his lips to her good ear.
"Miss Granger," he sighed, "whatever am I going to do with you?"
There was so much unexpected sadness in his tone, that she felt her heart suddenly ache with their shared, internal, misery. So even though she had no strength left, somehow she was able to slide her hand up to his chest. Gently, so gently, she let her covered palm settle over his heart.
She said nothing.
After a brief pause, she heard him let out another sigh, though this one was not so heavy.
"It is all right, witch," he whispered with a brush of his fingertips along her neck, "go to sleep. I will put you back to bed, and be there when you wake up."
That was all she needed, forgiveness, acceptance . . . and reassurance. So she let out her own sigh. Hers was one of relief.
Then she passed out.
A/N 2: As I have a tendency to do with new stories, each chapter gets longer and longer. This was over ten thousand words before we got to the notes, but at least it only took about a week to pull together.
Clearly, a bit of 'fluttering' on both sides, but (and I know this is clearly not a new concept here) the summer at Grimmauld Place was a good bonding point for them. It was just a little tricky to make it not 'gross' because she was just a kid then so I didn't want either of them to have any feelings for the other at that point, but simply for them to both realize that the other had noticed them back even then as a real person, in ways that nobody else around them ever seemed to do.
Jammie Dodgers! It seems like a random muggle treat that Snape would have enjoyed as a kid, and it was an opportunity to introduce a bit of humor to their interactions. They clearly can't have much fun 'banter' in this story, as there is this terrible undercurrent, but they can have a few lighter moments in their bonding, and it was nice to give Hermione the special pain potion so she could actually smile and be genuinely happy for six or seven minutes. And him sharing his magic with her, also I know not a new concept in general for this ship, but I wanted to try it here because it just seemed logical that if you had a way of boosting someone else's magical strength so they could perform a task, that you would do it.
Next time, we will finally get to Hermione's big confession and more to the meat of the plot. I hadn't planned for three full chapters (so far) really just on her initial recovery stages, but that's what happens with these things. Scenes expand out from the drafts as they start talking and yada yada, they take on a mind of their own :)
Thanks all, and please do review if you can!