Author's Note: Hey all, some personal news. The posting gap here was because my dad died. It was about three weeks ago, it wasn't expected, but it wasn't a shock either because it's been a horrible year for various reasons. And even after the 'formalities of death' were completed and I started back to work and into my usual routine again, I didn't come back to this because I was afraid to try writing again. My fear was I wouldn't be able to finish the story, because last year when the issues first began developing with my parents' health (dad physical, mom mental) I could no longer write in my previous fandoms. I didn't find any 'comfort' in them. That's how I ended up here in the Snape/Hermione world, and even when I started here I had this worry if something else big happened with my folks that this story would whither on the vine. But, the worst happened, and somehow I was still was able to come back and get this chapter pulled together, so it looks like the center will hold! Though the chapter is not as long as I had planned it initially, (for now obvious reasons), it is done and I still felt very comfortable writing the characters, they were good for my brain, and that's what matters. Also obviously, if would be nice if you guys enjoyed the chapter too :) So, with things cut back a bit, mostly this ended up as a warm fuzzy chapter. With vampires! Sorta ;)

Again, can't stress how helpful it is here to picture the young Snape photo I've posted on Tumblr.

Direct pickup.

Blood Calls To Blood

Snape came back into the room with the now usual tray floating along behind him. As he approached the bed and the tray hovered between them, Hermione could see that it was carrying not only her expected hot chocolate and grilled cheese, but also a cup of tea and a slice of toast with sprinkles of what looked to be brown sugar and cinnamon. When she saw that . . . that Snape had prepared comfort food for himself and not just for her . . . her eyes began to sting again. It was the realization that the terrible story she had finally shared with him, had now become a shared burden for him.

That had never been her intention.

"I am so sorry, truly, for pulling you into my hell," she whispered while watching him take a first sip of tea, "I know you've already gone through so much. You didn't deserve to have to deal with this too."

His looked down to her then, already shaking her head.

"Please do not apologize," Snape answered softly, "you need help, and at this point, that is all that matters."

Though his words were truth, it was admittedly still an emotional strain for him, because he knew that in the end he could very well be forced to mercy kill Miss Granger's parents. If it came to it though, he would do it with minimal hesitation. As he had already told her, it was not unforgiveable to give someone back their dignity.

Still . . . he took a breath . . . if he was lucky, he would find another way.

For now, he simply focused on getting Miss Granger settled with her potions and her breakfast, because he knew that in finally telling him her story, she had worn herself out both physically and mentally. He wanted her resting again. But of course he had also promised her that they would conduct another magic sharing session that morning too, so that was another task to complete. Though if Snape was honest with himself . . . and he did generally try to be . . . he was probably looking forward to the magic sharing as much, if not more, than she was. Because when Miss Granger had been telling him her story he had seen how much she was suffering, how much she had suffered that ENTIRE year(!) and all he'd wanted to do was to comfort her. But there had been no way. With the magic sharing though, he would have an excuse to hold her in a way that would comfort her properly.

Like she needed.

So he fed her the potions, and held those two fingers through the fading tremors, before moving on to the hot chocolate and the grilled cheese. It was clear though in how she pursed her lips before taking even the first bite of food, that she had little appetite, but as they moved along, he could also see that she was making herself consume every morsel and droplet without complaint simply because this was the meal that he had prepared for her.

The things he knew were her special comfort food.

And for being such a cooperative witch, after she'd swallowed down the last bite of the sandwich and he'd done a light Evanesco to clear the crumbs away, he brought his hand up to brush his thumb along the shell of her ear.

He knew that she liked when he did that.

"Thank you for eating everything," he whispered when her eyes shot over to his. And noting how her breath had quickened at his touch, the corner of his lip twitched, ever so slightly.

"Are you ready now for the magic sharing session?"

Hermione was already nodding before the question was fully out of his mouth.

"Yes," she answered while shifting on the bed, "absolutely."

Finally! All she'd wanted, almost since she'd awoken, was for him to touch her like that again. So she watched anxiously as Snape banished the breakfast tray to the kitchen before moving on to pull back her blankets and help her slide her legs around on the bed. There was a momentary pause in his movements then, and from the slight crease in his brow, she could see that he was thinking. It only took her a second for her to realize what it was he was thinking about.

How best to do it this time.

Because last night, on his side, the move had been impulsive. He had already been holding her in his arms, and had wanted to give her another burst of strength and support. Now though, just having her lean against him that way seemed a bit pointlessly awkward. Especially given how her legs still weren't all that steady.

She knew that without even attempting to stand on them again.

Also, she didn't want to just lean against him, she wanted to be able to cuddle up like they had when she'd fallen to the floor. Granted, it hadn't exactly been a romantic cuddle . . . utter collapse on her part triggered by a toilet flush . . . but he had pulled into his lap then, and before she'd passed out, she had been shocked at how right it had felt for him to hold her that way. Unfortunately though, she had a slight concern that Snape (as proper as he was) might feel that it would be improper for him to pull her into his lap again without sufficiently dire circumstances to justify such an action. So short of her literallyhurling herself at his feet for a second day in a row, he would likely need a bit of a push on her side. So she offered a solution to his problem, before he even presented the problem aloud.

"You could sit over on the folding bed with me on your um . . . knee," she offered hesitantly, "I think it would be more comfortable than holding me up."

"I do not mind holding you up," he answered immediately, almost in an absent minded tone, given how his attention had shifted over to where he had slept the night before. But then when he looked back down to her, he tipped his head.

"Your proposal does seem to be the most logical though." His brow quirked up, "and I assume you feel entirely comfortable at the thought of sitting on my knee during the session?"

Her eyes crinkled then, even as she felt a spark of warmth from the tears that suddenly threatened to hover.

"Yes," she whispered back hoarsely, "I would be very comfortable with it."

His expression softened as he gave her a nod.

"Very well then," he murmured while stooping down to slip one arm under her legs and the other around her back, "that is what we shall do."

And when he straightened up, just as he had the night before, for a few seconds he stood there simply holding her close. The difference on Hermione's part though, unlike the night before when she felt like she should show at least a semblance of decorum, this time she felt no hesitance at all when the thought came of tipping her head down to rest against his shoulder.

So she did.

Then she let out a sigh, one which blew a warm puff of air lightly across his throat. Her action seemed to trigger something in him, because she felt him take in a deep breath. One that he held for a few seconds. Finally he exhaled, and without a word, turned to carry her over to the camp bed across the small room. After he'd sat down on the edge of the thin mattress and settled her in his lap, (she was never going to be sitting on his knee, they both knew that) he shuffled back slightly to get more comfortable. Then with one arm now loosely wrapped around her waist, the other he moved up to where he had placed it the night before.

Her neck.

"We shall do it the same way," he murmured while giving a slight tug to the back of her nightshirt to get better access. Then he started with that gentle massage, which helped in easing a little of the tension there. And after a few minutes of that, right when Hermione started to feel that deliciously warm and loose sensation starting in her muscles, there was a shift in his touch. That's when he began to focus in specifically on those pressure points again. But the tingling that she felt when his magic began to flow into her, it was very different than their first session.

Much more intense.

And she was sure that Snape felt the difference as well, because in the next instant, his fingers were curling back, and she felt just his knuckles brushing her spine.

The connection was broken.

For a moment she was scared that he was going to say that maybe it would be best if they stopped now, that it was too much. But then she felt him take another breath just before he moved his hand back to where it had been. Thank Merlin for that! Except this time when he pressed down, he actually began to massage those pressure points in the same way that he had her neck muscles just above. So that meant the resulting magical spark which came through from his touch, it felt almost electric. It was so strong that at the moment when she felt their magics swirl together, she actually gasped.

Snape did too.

But again she sent thanks to Merlin, because that time he didn't stop. It wasn't until another minute or so that he finally ended the massage and just let his hand still on her skin. The connection was maintained, but without the active pressure from him, the spark morphed into something less intense. It was still definitely a stronger physical sensation than their first session, but if anything, that simply enhanced the wonder of the experience. Those feelings of warmth and safety and comfort, were flowing steadily from him and into her. They were starting from that point of contact, his fingertips, and then filling her core, before finally working up and out into her limbs and fingers and toes.

Hermione honestly could have wept with relief that the process had worked again.

And because she didn't want to be selfish, and also because she wasn't feeling quite so weak as the first time, not strong at all, but not as physically drained as the night before . . . she decided to try actively pushing back the magic on her side. She wasn't sure really if it would do anything, if maybe the person initiating the process was the one who had that control there, but when she heard Snape's breath catch in surprise, she knew that she'd done something.

"Can you feel it?" She asked softly.

And she felt his hair brush against her ear as he nodded.

"Oh, yes," he answered with a slow exhale, "it is a very notable pulse running back through the connection. I can feel the difference between your magic and mine, but the sensation when they mix together is something entirely new, and unique. It is warm, and I find it quite," he took a breath, "soothing. But," and then his voice hardened slightly as he continued on with a faint, reluctant, reproach, "you must stop now so that you can preserve your magical stores. They are depleted enough from your trauma without wasting this effort on me."

"Giving you comfort is no waste of my magic, you silly man," Hermione immediately huffed back with an exasperated sigh. My hope was that it would work the same way for you as it did for me. That it would make you feel warm and happy. And now that we know it does make you feel warm and happy," she reluctantly began to pull back the magical push she'd initiated a minute before, "once I'm stronger," she brought one of the hands curled in her lap, up and over to his chest, "we're definitely going to do an equal magic sharing, okay?"

Though she knew just in how she knew him, that every fiber of his being wanted to tell her no, that it wasn't necessary, that it was a waste, she also knew how much he wanted to say yes, too. She could feel that through the connection they were still sharing from his side. It wasn't Legilimecy, but more simply an emotional reading. And what she was reading off him was a longing for what had just been taken from him.

It broke her heart.

And when she heard him say somewhat stiffly, "if you are insistent upon sharing your magic fully with me at a later date, if I feel you are strong enough, I suppose I might be amenable to such an action," she found her eyes burning, because he just couldn't admit that he wanted those feelings back. That would be admitting that he deserved to receive any kind of comfort. He would never.

So she did it for him.

"I am going to insist upon sharing my magic fully with you," she whispered back with a feathery brush of her gloved fingertip along his cheek, "because I want you to feel what I feel when you share yours fully with me. It will happen. This is not a negotiable point."

Then, just in case he was thinking about saying anything in the negative to that, she shifted slightly so she could lay her palm out flat over his heart. Feeling how fast it was beating as his breath hit her ear in a hot puff of air, brought a new sensation of warmth to her center.

It was not coming from the magic.

Part of her wanted to say something more then, but she was suddenly feeling a bit tongue tied. So instead she just closed her eyes and settled herself against his chest.

All she could feel was the warmth of his body against hers as she felt his magic continue to flow through her. It was such a pure feeling. And she found that the longer the connection lasted . . . they were coming up on at least six or seven minutes since they'd started . . . the happier she felt.

It was remarkable what his touch could do.

"If this is magic sharing," she murmured after another minute, "then why doesn't everyone do it?"

It seemed for a moment that Snape might have considered her question rhetorical, and she supposed that it kind of was, but then his voice came back softly.

And he actually had a real answer for her.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "consider for one that there must be an unbreakable level of trust between both parties. After all, your magic is your true essence. You are either giving up your essence, or taking in another's. Now tell me, in those terms, how many people would you wish to share such an experience with?"

"Well, put in those terms," she whispered back, "at this point in my life, I can't imagine doing this with anyone but you. Once, I guess there would have been Ron, or maybe even Harry, but I think no, actually," her nose wrinkled as she reassessed, "this would too weird with Harry. I mean, you know," she bit her lip, "it's not a sexual thing, but it is extremely," her voice faded, ". . . intimate."

The fact that she was so comfortable sharing such an intimacy with Snape was just another of those things which should have been baffling or strange, but instead just seemed very right.

Being with him just felt right.

"Yes," Snape tipped his head in agreement, "there is certainly a base intimacy to the act, but it should be noted that the literal emotional exchange that we have experienced, is not common. I can say that with complete certainty because I have twice witnessed this process before, once it was two Death Eaters, and once it was members of the Order and in neither situation did any of the parties show, or indicate, any emotional affect by the experience. All the process did in those instances, was elevate the physical strength of one wizard and or witch, which then allowed him or her to subsequently enhance the strength of a complicated spell. Similar to your ability to conduct a wandless spell after our session."

"Well, if other people only get the strength," Hermione asked with a faint wrinkle of confusion in her brow, "why do we get this emotional bridge too? What makes us different?"

The question had no sooner left her lips than Hermione suddenly felt her cheeks flush, because she'd had a shimmer in her brain of what could be making them different. Still, she waited to see if Snape had a proper answer before sharing her thoughts.

"I do not know," she heard him let out on a low sigh as he shifted her slightly in his lap . . . they were now officially in a cuddle, "but offhand I suppose it could be that our magical cores are compatible, and what we are experiencing are the effects of those two separate forces finding their alignment."

"Hmm," she murmured with a twitch of her nose, "that's a thought. I am feeling very much in alignment with you, but do you really think that's it?"

"No," Snape slowly shook his head, "not really. What I actually think," he bit his lip as he paused briefly while considering how much he wished to say . . . then he decided to just say it all, "well, there is clearly a compatibility in our spirits, but I think it is more likely that the emotional intensity of the experience is being born from either a soul bond, or a simple romantic connection. It could be either, but," his jaw twisted, "given the anecdotal evidence, personally, I believe the latter is growing from the former."

It was difficult to bare his thoughts so openly, but he had spent the last ten minutes literally giving all of his essence to her just so she would feel better. If he could not then put his actions into words, then he would be a coward indeed.

And a coward he was not.

Hermione blinked in shock at what Snape had just told her . . . that they might have a soul bond. Of course she had heard of them, but she had never known anyone who had found their mate in such a way. And though she had certainly not been looking for a mate . . . with everything else going on that would have been insane . . . the idea that after spending so much of her life feeling isolated and alone, that she might truly have someone in the world who understood her on such an elemental level, it was . . . her eyes began to water . . . overwhelming. But he was right, such a theory would explain the other things that were happening between them, and more specifically, the speed with which they were happening. Because upon even passing consideration, it was difficult to believe that out of the blue, she would suddenly feel so safe and content snuggled up in this man's arms. This connection they had was quite real, that was not in question, and she definitely was developing feelings of a romantic nature for him, but it wasn't as though she'd come back into his life harboring some kind of latent crush on a former professor. There had been no underlying crush.

Ever.

At first there had just been a grudging respect, which had morphed over the years of knowing him through The Order, into the type of general affection that comes simply from familiarity. By the end of the war of course, when she finally understood how truly great a man he had always been, she had felt something a bit stronger for him. The respect had certainly stopped being 'grudging' and the affection had been born of more than just familiarity, that was for sure. But now she was an adult, and being forced to consider the idea of her deeper feelings being triggered by something which had actually been buried inside her all of this time. Perhaps waiting until they were both of the right age to pursue something more. The truth of it was . . . she liked the idea of being with him.

She liked it a lot.

So she let her gloved fingers come up to brush over his collar and the unseen scar beneath. After letting them settle there for a moment, and feeling his pulse racing, she rested her head against his shoulder again.

"If it is a soul bond," she whispered with a thread of emotion in her voice, "I would actually welcome such a connection. Perhaps under other circumstances it wouldn't have been a path we would have consciously chosen, but," she took a breath, "if the universe were to give us such a beautiful gift, it would be criminal to reject it."

For a moment she felt his whole body freeze up, like he had NO Idea how to respond to that pronouncement. But then he seemed to find his center again, because he took a deep breath and tipped his head down to rest against hers.

"I agree," he murmured with a rub of his hand down her side, "and I do admit that point alone causes me some measure of curiosity because, objectively speaking, it does not make any logical sense that I would be so receptive to the idea. But I find contentment in looking after you. And when I feel you are in pain," he took a breath, "I am in pain. Perhaps that is proof of the bond, or perhaps," he slowly exhaled, "it is proof of other things. I do not know. Either way," he bit his lip, "I think we should simply let our interactions progress as they have been, and go on with the other things we must do."

Then suddenly feeling a burst of protectiveness, he added with a crease of his brow.

"And something I had wanted to say earlier and now feel compelled to, but if you ever have need to go to Transylvania again, please inform me first and I will go with you. With the vampire population as large as it is in that region, it is not safe there, even for our kind. You were very lucky not to have been attacked."

"I actually was attacked," Hermione responded softly, and feeling his whole body stiffen up, she immediately continued on, hoping to reassure him, "but I wasn't bitten. I got them before they got me."

"Them," Snape repeated the word tightly as he protectively rubbed her hip, "how many?"

And when she answered, "five," he actually blanched in horror. It was worse still when he heard her voice thicken as she explained how she'd been so careful her first week there to not be out after dark, that she knew it was unsafe. But then one day she'd finally come across the books that she'd been looking for, and had lost too many hours in that bookshop. When she'd come out, it had been after nine, and there had still been muggles about so she'd gone around the corner looking for a place to apparate back to her hotel. That's when she'd been surrounded.

"Sectumsempra," she continued on with a whisper, "it was the first thing that popped into my head. With one spin of my heel and wave of my wand, I'd slashed them all right across the throat," her voice faded, "I wanted to stop there, but," she bit her lip, "you know that wound doesn't kill them like it does us, it just bought me a few seconds."

"And what did you do in those few seconds?" he whispered tightly.

"Confringo," she answered in the same tone, "it was all I could think of that would kill them all as quickly as your curse had immobilized them . . . it was a mess."

He took a breath.

"Why did you not just apparate?" He asked gently, making sure to allow no judgment into his tone, "was there no time?"

"There was time," her voice began to thicken again, "just enough. But I knew I needed to go back to that street in the morning, and I knew that after slashing their throats, they would have been waiting for me. Just because they mostly hunt at night, it doesn't mean they can't find ways to stalk you during the day. Especially in the middle of winter," she huffed sadly, "the sun was gone there by four pm."

"Well then," he took a breath, "it sounds like you took the necessary action to stay alive. That is all that matters. Though do tell me," he continued on, keeping his tone dry to conceal his underlying concern, "outside of the cursing of your parents and the vampire executions, is there anything else you've done over this last year that I should perhaps know about now?"

"There was the werewolf in Istanbul," she answered quietly, "I slashed his throat in self defense. I also sectum'd the two wizards in London who tried to rape me. The muggle who did the same in Budapest, I let him live, though I did castrate him. He had knocked me down and had a knife at my throat, and I was so very done with the male creatures of this world trying to violate me." Her lips pursed, "I couldn't help myself."

"Oh my Miss Granger," Snape winced while tipping his head down to rest against hers, "It is an outrage that you have been so unsafe. I am developing retroactive nausea at the thought of you being attacked by these repugnant creatures."

"Yes," Hermione's jaw twisted, "it was awful, and at the same time, though I knew I didn't deserve the abuse, in a perverse way, it seemed somewhat balanced that with the evil I had done, this evil kept stalking me," then her voice started to crackle, "but I was so scared all the time."

Feeling a stab of physical pain in his chest at hearing the fear in her voice, Snape suddenly found himself rubbing his hand across her stomach as he nuzzled her ear.

"You are safe here now with me," he whispered, "and if you ever again find yourself in any danger, you must send me a Patronus at once. If there is violence to inflict, let it be by my hands. There is blood enough on them already. A little more, for a good cause, is nothing."

For a moment Hermione was silent, then he heard her sniffle as she gently settled one of her gloved hands over the one he had resting on her stomach.

"I feel that as a mate," she murmured, "you would spoil me rotten."

"That is nonsense," he cut back with a grunt, "because as your mate, it would be my job to protect you from both physical harm and any additional damage to your soul. I could do no less and still call myself a man. Now then," and he patted her stomach before she could respond . . . he could hear her choking down a sob, "though I do have the most overwhelming desire to simply sit here and talk to you for the rest of the day, a true rarity for me given my general lack of tolerance for the company of most others, we know that there are things I must do. And you," he gave a light, intimate stroke of his thumb over her hip, "if you are to heal, you must rest."

This need to hold her, and speak with her, to learn of her life, it was so unexpected. Yes, he had been feeling more of a true affection towards her since that night in St. Mungo's, an affection which had deepened while caring for her these last twenty-four hours, but these magic sharing sessions truly had intensified his feelings. He felt both physically and emotionally connected to her in a way that he never had with anyone before.

Not even Lily during the strongest days of their friendship.

His acceptance of this truth, that things were different with Miss Granger on such fundamental levels, gave additional credence to the likelihood that it was a genuine soul bond which existed between them.

The thought brought a true ache to his chest.

Because to have such a bond with any witch, let alone a witch like this one, so young and brilliant, and beautiful, and who so shockingly seemed as receptive to the idea of bonding as he was, he almost did not dare to believe it could be true. He bit his lip.

It seemed a dream.

"Can we do this again later, or tomorrow?" Hermione asked softly, and she felt Snape's cheek brushing her ear as he murmured, "I would like that. Whatever type of connection this is we are experiencing, for data gathering purposes, I do wish to explore this physical aspect of it further. If you are amendable, of course."

"I am very amenable," Hermione answered while pulling back so she could catch his eyes, "so much so, that I am ignoring how entirely clinical and unromantic your 'data gathering' response was."

Even as his mouth quivered at her dry tone . . . they might actually make a good match on that front . . . Snape still found himself wincing slightly at her reproach.

Joke or not, she had a bit of a point.

"Apologies," he whispered with a brush of his thumb along her lip . . . he saw her breath catch, "but you must know, pragmatism over ardor is what you would generally need to expect with me."

"I do know," Hermione answered on a slow breath as she looked up into Snape's unblinking stare, "and I would be disappointed if I were to find you behaving any other way. I would know that this, whatever it is, was making you into someone you're not." She shook her head slowly, "I wouldn't want that to happen."

His brow darkened.

"I would not want that for you either. So if you feel your natural instincts are being influenced by any kind of extraneous," his jaw twisted, "manipulation, you must say something at once. I will do the same. I do not desire a connection not maintained by genuine affection, and at this point I believe we at least have built that much entirely on our own. Agreed?"

Her expression softened.

"Agreed. And now that that point is settled," she continued on with a deep breath as she felt his hand fall away . . . their connection was broken, "if you're going to be out for a few hours I should probably use the bathroom."

"Right," Snape nodded as he again pulled her into his arms and slowly came back to his feet, "I was going to ask the question before I brought you back to bed."

So he brought her out of the sitting room and down the hall to the bathroom she'd used the night before. Fortunately he had left the spell over the mirror so it was still blackened when they entered the small room.

It was as he was gently placing Miss Granger down onto the tile that he heard her murmur, "you know ordinarily my morning routine would include at least a general wash up, but I guess that's not really possible today, is it?"

There was a clear melancholy in her words, and though Snape understood her comments to be more rhetorical than not, he still found himself answering her as though it was an actual question.

"Showering is probably out of the question for the remainder of the week," he stated while letting his hands settle on her hips . . . her legs definitely seemed steady, "simply because I believe a spray of any force hitting your newly born flesh, would be quite uncomfortable."

Noting how Miss Granger's face blanched at the image he had painted in her head, Snape quickly continued on with a, "however, I think by tomorrow evening, you should be recovered enough for a bath. And as to your hair," he slid one arm fully around her waist so he could shake his wand out with his other hand. Then he gave it a wave over her head while muttering a quick cleansing spell. The newly shorn locks ruffled as though blown by a light breeze, and he saw Miss Granger's expression immediately brighten.

Her happiness pleased him.

"Oh," she let out a relieved sigh when she looked up at him, "that feels so much better, thank you."

He tipped his head.

"Of course. Now then," he raised his eyebrow while giving her a once over, "you are feeling strong enough for me to let you go, yes?"

"Yes, definitely," she answered him with a quick nod, "same process as last night, though this time," she added with a sheepish eye roll, "I promise not to blow out the last bit of shared magic by flushing the toilet."

"Indeed," he answered with an eye roll, "it would be helpful for my life expectancy if we could avoid a repeat of that experience."

Noting her amusement at his response, Snape couldn't help but note how pretty her eyes were when they sparkled. Though of course this was not the time for him to indulge in such things, so with a final, somewhat worried pat of her side, he slowly pulled his arm away. Once he was sure she was still standing steady, he backed out of the room.

"Call me when you are ready," was the last thing Snape said before he stepped into the hall, and Hermione gave him a quick nod right as he pulled the door shut. A split second later her clothes (again sans gloves) had disappeared, so she carefully shuffled over to use the toilet as she had the night before.

Fortunately she had no trouble at all that time with the wandless cleansing . . . with as much of Snape's magic still swirling through her body, she felt capable of wandlessly painting the entire house . . . and it was only a minute before she was ready to call him back into the room.

When Snape returned (with his eyes again averted) waving his wand to reclothe her, to her surprise, Hermione found herself suddenly dressed in a new nightshirt (it was dark blue) and new underpants. Though she didn't actually see the pants . . . she was only wearing them for a split second before the nightshirt had covered them over . . . the legs had a notably looser fit than the ones she'd been wearing before.

It was clearly not the same pair.

When she looked up at Snape with a curious brow, he shrugged.

"The comment on your washing up," he explained while walking closer, "reminded me that the least I could offer you today would be clean clothing. The nightshirt is obviously another one of mine that I also relined in silk for your healing comfort. The undergarment," he pulled a small black handkerchief from his pocket, "I transfigured one of these." His eyebrow inched up, "do they fit all right?"

Her eyes crinkled . . . he was so sweet.

"They do," she nodded while watching watched him tuck the handkerchief away again, "thank you. That was very thoughtful."

It was then when he stooped down to fix her socks . . . they'd slid down to her ankles . . . that his hair fell forward, obscuring half his profile. As he straightened up again, Hermione found herself reaching out with a gloved hand to brush it back.

Merlin, she could not wait until she could run her bare fingers through those strands.

"I like to see your face," she murmured with a bit of a blush, and as he let his hands fall back to her waist he let out a faint snort of, "you would be the first."

"Hush now," she answered with gentle pat to his chest, "it bothers me to hear you put yourself down."

For a moment Snape just looked at her, biting his lip. Then he took a breath.

"A degree of self deprecation is normal for me," he explained quietly, "it is how I have always existed in the world. However," he tipped his head, "in the reverse, I can see how it would be troublesome to me, if you were to denigrate your own appearance or abilities. So," his jaw twisted slightly, "I will be mindful of that point in the future."

Hermione's lip quirked up slightly as Snape punctuated his last word with a wandless flush of the toilet. So she shuffled forward the last half step to lean against his chest . . . he immediately folded her into an embrace.

"Being mindful is all I ask," she whispered against his collar, "so thank you for listening to me. And now I am definitely ready to lie down again. I thought I could paint a house with the amount of your magic I had in me, but," she bit back a yawn, "those wandless spells are still quite draining."

The words had no sooner left her mouth, than Hermione felt Snape shifting his hold on her body so he could scoop her back up and into his arms. As he tucked her against his chest he was muttering, "we cannot risk a collapse like yesterday," and then he started them out of the bathroom.

They were halfway down the hall when Hermione cleared her throat.

"At the cottage," she spoke softly, as she now focused her thoughts on the trip Snape would be taking once she was back in bed, "when you come out of the floo, you'll be in my lab. You know that will be a mess from the explosion, but fortunately the cauldron was across the room from my desk and the written notes I've been compiling. Most of the books I've gathered from those trips, you'll find in my room. It was easier to read in there."

"Right," he murmured as they reentered the sitting room, "and the lab is on the main floor?"

That was his presumption, given how unusual it would be for muggles to build a fireplace in the basement of any personal dwelling that was not technically a castle. So it was of no surprise when he felt Hermione nod against his shoulder, while answering softly, "yes, main floor, I converted the dining room into the lab because it's on the back side of the house. The windows I covered over to appear as brick from the outside," then she winced slightly, "oh Merlin, I hope the explosion didn't blow them out."

"But you covered them over with a spell, yes?" Snape asked as they approached the bed, and hearing her affirmative, "yes, but . . ." he immediately cut her off before she could get herself anymore worked up.

"Miss Granger," he stated flatly, while leaning over to place her on the mattress, "a potion explosion, no matter how powerful, would not affect the spell, unless the potion itself had actually been designed to defeat the spell. It was not." He gave her a look, "the windows will be fine."

Then before she could say anything else, he quickly defluffed her pillow and fixed her blankets. Once she was settled under the covers, he turned to go over and get her sleeping potion. A quick tempus told him that it was also close enough now to the twelve hour mark . . . ten point seven five hours, but again, close enough . . . to let her have the other pain potion as well.

It wasn't until he turned back around that he saw the tears which had filled Miss Granger's eyes. His jaw twitched at the sight of them, because it was one of the few times in his life that when it came to reading a witch's mood, he actually had a fair idea as to what the problem was at that moment. So when he walked back to the bed, he reached out brush his fingers through her hair.

It was softer for the cleansing spell.

"I will check on your parents as soon as I arrive," he stated with a look, "and send you a Patronus immediately so that you can sleep well knowing that they are all right. Does this offer you some comfort?"

"Yes," she sniffled, "thank you. I mean, I know that they should still be fine, but just thinking about you seeing what they've become, I . . ."

And she trailed off, so he brought his hand down to cup the back of her neck.

"I know you are worried," he whispered, "and I have felt how broken your spirit is over their condition, that grieves me. But we are now taking the first steps to fix what has gone wrong. It is unlikely I will make much progress today, but," he gave her a firm nod, "we will get there. And while we are working together on that solution, you," he gave her a pointed look, "you will be my brave, utterly brilliant, witch."

Seeing her nod as she gave him a watery smile, he paused for a moment, before asking with a bit of hesitation.

"Are you sure you have no reservations?"

"Am I sure I have no reservations about what?" She asked with a confused sniff.

He just looked at her, and seeing the flicker of embarrassment on his face as he whispered, "about being my mate," she felt her expression softening.

"Don't be a muppet," she answered with a faint huff. And seeing his look of indignation at her basically calling him an idiot, she ended up letting out a faint giggle, because even when she had no intention of winding him up, it was so easy to do so. All she'd wanted was for him to see how silly he was being. As though of the two of them, she was actually the 'catch, here. A depressed, emotionally broken witch, with a post war body count that could already be counted on two hands. Not even to mention the casting of the Unforgivable on her own parents.

It was lucky he hadn't already tossed her out into the street and warded the doors.

"Give me my potions please," she huffed while reaching out to pat his arm, "and then go before I start crying again."

Even after she made the request, it took a moment for him to respond . . . he was still giving her a hefty scowl for the muppet comment . . . but finally he picked up the two phials he had placed on the bed, and began to pull off the first of the toppers. By the time she had swallowed down the last drop of the pain potion, his expression had evened out again. And when she let out a happy sigh of, "oh my, that does feel nice," as the endorphins began to release, she saw his lips twitch slightly. And though he did quickly school his features, as he did a final tweak of her pillow and blankets, Hermione found herself reaching out to catch his sleeve.

When he looked down at her in surprise, she gave him a soft, sad, smile.

"To be clear," she whispered, "if we are bonded, that would make me so proud, because it would mean," her voice began to crackle then, "that the universe has decided to pair me with one of the finest wizards alive today. After all I have done, this astounds me. And I don't know if I still deserve you, but being with you feels right. Regardless, I know that we will both need more time to fully adjust to these changes, but one thing that I already know for sure, and I just wanted you to know it too, is that if we pursue this connection to its natural evolution, you will end up making me a wonderful mate because you are already a wonderful man," as she saw his eyes begin to fill, she gave him a firm nod, "and that's all I'm going to say for today."

Snape blinked twice and straightened up with a slight clearing of his throat.

"You have said quite enough," he answered with a haughty cough. Then, just to be sure that she knew he wasn't really upset, he shot her a wink, one which actually made her blush as her mouth quivered.

He reached out to stroke his thumb along the corner of her lip.

"I will send the Patronus shortly," he whispered, "and by the time you wake up, I will be back here again."

So with one last look, he let his hand fall away. Then he turned, accio'd his robe from the hall closet, and headed over to the fireplace.

With her stomach once again aching, Hermione watched nervously as Snape fixed his robe around his shoulders before pulling out his wand and reaching for a handful of floo powder. It was time.

She cleared her throat.

"Six Parish Road, St. Ives, Cornwall," she called out from across the room. And he nodded while repeating the address and tossing in the powder. The flames turned green . . . he took a step . . . and disappeared.

From there, Hermione began to count off the seconds, and then the minutes, waiting for his Patronus to appear. Realistically she knew that it would likely take at least four or five minutes for him to make sure that the house was secure before he went in search of her parents up on the second floor. Still, that didn't help her nerves as the minutes slowly ticked away. Mostly her anxiety was being fed by the fear that the sleeping potion would kick in before the Patronus appeared and then all she would do was dream that everything had gone more wrong than it already was.

And it was just as she felt her eyes begin to get that heavy blink, that suddenly a silver streak came bounding into the room.

Though the animal was not the one she was expecting . . . it actually filled her with delight when she saw what it was . . . when the creature spoke, it was in the deep, familiar, tone, that she knew so well.

"Your parents were fine, the house was secure, the lab is a mess. I will be home in a few hours. Sleep well. And yes, we have confirmation the bond is real, as you can see that it has already transformed my Patronus. I curse your love of these damn fuzzy animals. If you do not end up with a reptile I will be most disappointed."

The last was said just before the silver figure disappeared. And Hermione couldn't help but let out a giggle at the snarky words which had come from the adorable creature standing in front of her.

Snape's Patronus had turned into a baby Koala Bear.

It was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

Her mouth began to quiver at the thought of the most imposing wizard she knew, now being magically represented out in the world, by a fuzzy little bear. She rolled half onto her side as she was overcome simultaneously by both a yawn from the sleeping potion and another snort of amusement at Snape's new Patronus.

Oh Merlin . . . she huffed as her eyes began to fall shut . . . he was never going to let her forget this!

A/N 2: So obviously I settled on the soul bond vs the 'normal' attraction. With them already engaging in the magic sharing, it just started to feel like a more natural way to make them both much become comfortable (much more quickly) with the shifting undercurrents in their relationship. And with her still incapacitated, it is an excuse for them to have real physical contact too, because they can't currently hold hands like a regular 'fledgling' couple would do.

And Hermione also racked up quite the body count while she was on her own, but it's difficult enough being a woman in the world, and then I figure you're immersing yourself in the world of dark magic you'll be visiting all of these shady AF wizarding 'neighborhoods' and you're going to run into bad people/creatures in all of them. Bad people do bad things, so there you go.

In England, (if you are not English you may not know this) a "muppet" is a stupid person. In America, a muppet is a fuzzy talking puppet. By either definition, it very much amused me for Hermione to assign that as her term of endearment for Snape, which is what she just did :) He will be her "muppet," because I just didn't see any normal terms of endearment working for my version of them. Otherwise, yes, they are still using their formal terms for one another, but that's because things are changing for them emotionally, faster than their brains have adjusted. Their brains will catch up.

The Patronus. If they were going to be genuinely bonded, (my theory is the magic sharing accelerated things) it had to change. And hers will as well, but obviously she can't hold her wand yet so she can't check it yet. Also, how could I send her to Transylvania and not have a vampire run-in?

Hoping from here that posting will go back to a regular routine. Clearly I am ending up with more chapters than I had planned to start (I'd thought 7 and I'm already at 6 with only a kick at the actual plot) but we've just had more 'live' conversations than I'd expected we would. But live is generally better than narrative for relationship stories so, I have no regrets. We're getting there :)

Thanks for reading everyone! Always love the feedback :)