Disclaimer: All credits to Rowling and Gato Azul.

5. The Court Chamber

Harry knelt beside the stretcher; black eyes chased him, without too much interest, as one may chase the flight of an insect.

"Good afternoon, professor."

A bored blink of eyes, nothing more than that.

"You look like you're getting better," he improvised, lying a bit; Snape had actually lost a lot of weight, he was emaciated, his cheeks looked dry and sunken, his eyes giving the impression of being bigger. The colour of his face had shifted from a peculiar white to an impoverished yellow, and the bags under his eyes had conquered big chunks of skin around the sockets.

"Professor... I've talked about this with you before, the other day, but I'm not that sure you heard me. I need you to know, I'm really grateful," after having the time to think, Harry had managed to overcome his fear and tell the man exactly what he had to say. He boldly took one of the bony hands between his, as if it was Dumbledore's hand or that of an old friend. Snape looked at the intertwined fingers with disgust and contempt. Harry shrank back for a few seconds when he noticed the disdain the deadman's face was sending him. "Thank you. I'm sorry for everything that has happened between us or between you and my father, I… I'd like to apologize in behalf of him and Sirius, they judged you wrong, I did too and I'm sorry."

The half-blood's eyes were empty, a terrifying puppet. Snape didn't seem to be listening to him, he was paying attention to him as one paid attention to a dog's barks.

"Professor…" the boy insisted. "Say something."

Don't be an imbecile, Potter. You know damn well I can't talk. Why did you come here? Nothing of what I did was for you.

Harry swallowed, rebuking himself for choosing that word: "say". And he was starting to feel raw disillusion from that black stare that followed him, bleeding with hate, with tremendous and aggressive hate.

He left that room with big steps. He didn't know where that stupid belief had come from, that after everything that had happened, his relationship with Snape could dramatically improve, that by kneeling beside his stretcher, the Potion Master would have given him that kind, agonizing stare when he thought himself dead. For a second, he had even thought it'd be just like with Sirius and that Snape could be for him some kind of godfather, but all those ridiculous ideas had just evaporated.

Snape hadn't changed. Bitten or not, hero or not, he'd never be a man easy to like or even tolerate. Despite this, Harry wanted to go forward with his defence.

The duties of the director of Hogwarts had started to claim McGonagall. She couldn't keep herself there, in the Shrieking Shack. The press looked for her, the pupils and professors asked for her, they needed her to get the school running. But Snape needed her too and she felt guilty for leaving Miss Granger in charge of taking care of him. To reassure herself, she told herself she'd look for someone she could send to help her. Granger's big eyes appeared in front of her over and over again, those big eyes that looked almost in fear as the door closed behind McGonagall, leaving her alone and locked away with this man.

"I'll find someone soon, Miss Granger. It won't be for long."

But she hadn't been able to calm even herself with that promise. Many details worried her, the trips organized to find Snape, the inability to find a safe place to hide him, the trials, her own doubts and resentment whose target was that same man.

The idea of sending someone to help Granger was a double-edged sword: as more people visited the Shrieking Shack, the easier it would be to find the hiding place where they had him in. McGonagall knew very well they were going to find Snape; it couldn't be delayed for long. The Occlumens' only hope was for Potter to win those trials.

To be charged with managing Hogwarts couldn't be considered under any light as easy.

She opened her eyes in the middle of the night; something had woken her up. She couldn't help being afraid, alone in the dawn. She crawled in the dark, guiding herself by the breathing's sound, and sparked a Lumos in the tip of her wand when she reached the stretcher.

Snape's chest rose and lowered quickly, too quickly. He was sweating too much and panting. Hermione ran to a table to look for the fever potions and came back. Then, slowly, started to lift the man's head; it was hot, she didn't remember having ever felt a temperature so high in a person. Snape moaned, opening his eyes.

"I'm going to give you medicine."

The Occlumens gritted his teeth, without letting her pass the liquid through his mouth.

"Professor Snape, please," she snorted while trying to open his mouth by force. How much she wished to call McGonagall; it was unbearable to be locked up for days without seeing anyone but him, who slept for most of the time and only woke up to annoy her.

"Open your mouth," she said, trying to loosen his jaw, but in the struggle, she accidentally scratched his neck. The man shifted in her lap, squeezing his eyes and growling.

"I didn't want to hurt you," she apologized while putting the spoon in his mouth and forcing him to swallow the liquid. "Don't be so stubborn, I'm just trying to help you," she chided him while lowering him back on the stretcher.

Snape watched her with just one eye opened, showing some resentment.

Where's Minerva?

"The professor had to leave, she's the new Director of Hogwarts and has many things to do."

The Potion Master's gaze seemed to embitter even more.

Ah, of course.

Then he shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

Hermione squeezed the sweater's fabric, not knowing how to proceed. There were a series of things she wasn't comfortable taking care of; Snape needed a bath and had to 'relieve himself'. He wasn't capable of even lifting his head, much less managing any of those activities by himself, but she didn't feel completely capable of taking care of him.

Thanks Merlin McGonagall had transfigurated some furniture and rubble into a bathroom, but the problem was to get him there.

The man was stubbornly trying to sit; Hermione could see the veins popping in his face and his whole body trembled, his belly and legs shaking in his effort to stand up. His destroyed muscles didn't seem to have any strength left.

"Don't move," she managed to say while holding him in her arms. She disliked feeling his faltering breath on her face. She didn't like him enough to tolerate so much closeness, which would have been even nice if one was talking about Remus or McGonagall, but not him.

She put the man's weight on her back, rising him slowly, almost dragging him. He turned out to be much lighter than she'd thought; given his height, she believed it'd be much harder to carry him around, but of course it was complicated and awkward. Snape's pointed ribs stuck into her back, she heard him wheeze in her ear, moaning quietly, while she stumbled trying to reach the bathroom, getting more and more anguishing because she realized the man's arms were slipping away, he'd fall at any sudden movement.

"Ah, for Merlin!" he was falling sideways; Snape's hand was grasping her shoulder, almost burying his nails, with evident fear of falling over.

"Gran—" it was the first time he'd managed to articulate a syllable; it was like a squawk.

"Don't worry, don't move," she said quickly, focusing on keeping the Potion Master's precarious balance. But, in a desperate reflex, the man moved the other arm and slipped from Hermione's grasp, letting out in his fall a chortled cry. But the young woman never heard the impact of the professor against the floor.

"I see I've arrived at a good moment."

That voice was so familiar, she turned immediately to find Luna's absent and kind face. Snape was half-sitting, supporting his back against Luna, who held him by the arms.

"Luna!"

"Professor McGonagall said you'll be needing an assistant."

The Potion Master was looking at her, unable to move, with an expression of deep annoyance.

"Hello, Professor Snape," she greeted him calmly as if she was talking to Neville or a child, getting so close to his face it seemed she was going to kiss him.

What are you doing, Lovegood? Help me stand up or leave me on the floor.

"Oh, of course, professor," she said unconcernedly while pulling him upwards, noting the weakness of his limp arms. He had turned out to be, for her, strangely light, just like Hermione had noticed.

"You've lost a lot of weight, professor," she commented casually. Hermione reached to hold his other side, and between the two of them they managed to lift him completely.

They reached the bathroom. Hermione could hardly open the door using her wand. They left him holding himself up against the wall, so he could do what he had to. Both of them were waiting against the closed door. Luna was humming a song and Hermione looked at the roof, impatient.

"Don't you think he has taken too long?"

The blonde shook her head, relaxed and smiling.

"Professor Snape is very lucky, he must have some amazing Bubstrange."

Granger looked at her confused, she didn't know there was something in the world known as Bubstrange.

"Yeah, sure, wonderful," she said to avoid fighting with Lovegood. The blonde smiled at her in complicity while lightly knocking the door.

"Are you ready, professor Snape?" she asked in a sing-song voice. "Oh, now I remember he can't talk."

They heard a few knocks on the other side of the door. Luna opened it, receiving in her shoulders Snape's hands, looking for something to support himself like a blind man; Hermione immediately got close to hold him too. They had to almost drag him back to the stretcher.

Luna knelt beside him, smiling distractedly. Hermione got close with a basin and sponges, her tense face making a sharp contrast with that of her companion, who smiled as if they were on vacations.

Granger put a wet sponge in her hands.

"I go from his hip up and you from the hip down," Hermione said while hurrying down Snape's sweater, which they had gotten from the infirmary. It was the first time she had seen him dressed in anything other than black, when she thought about it.

"I hope he doesn't have ticklish feet, that can be hilarious but problematic," Luna said. The man felt as if he was in a surrealist movie, with those two insane girls manhandling him, one laughing as if she were in a party and the other frowning, cleaning him with great concentration, like one would clean a dirty cauldron.

Granger had finished quickly and readied herself to change his bandages. She looked at his neck as it if was a long runic text and didn't know where to start. The lunatic was washing his knees, humming lowly, which irritated him quite a lot. Had he had his voice he'd have already yelled at her. He trembled when he felt Lovegood's small hand reach his thigh.

"Don't worry, professor. As much as you need a shower, privacy is important too."

Snape breathed, relieved; he'd have been too embarrassed had they tried to put down his pants, even more embarrassed that he already felt by being watched by two young ladies.

When she finished, Luna stood up, ready to go. Hermione was preparing the bandages they'd put the man and looked at her with big eyes.

"Luna! Where are you going?"

"My class started ten minutes ago."

The brunette's hair looked like a messy mane, in her eyes a shining glare of hysteria.

"No, Luna. Don't leave me."

"Don't worry, I'll come back after the meal. I'll get you and the professor something."

"You said you were going to help me."

"I will, don't worry. The Bubstranges makes everything easier."

"That doesn't exist, Luna! For Merlin's sake!" she yelled at her, wanting to rip her own scalp.

The blonde was watching her so calmly, it only made her angrier.

"You need to calm down, I'll see you in the afternoon," and she went out without minding her partner.

She had to wait for Luna to come back to dare and change Snape's bandages; it wouldn't have been easy to do it on her own.

The man's eyes chased the feminine hand's movements, fluttering around his neck.

Hermione went around ripping pieces off the bandages, soaked in blood, heavy with the liquid. To feel how that dark, warm fluid slipped on her fingers was starting to get on her nerves. Unlike her, Luna stained her hands without fear or reservation, talking quietly with Snape about those inventions of hers, the Bubstrangers.

White skin wax-like, long stretches of weak pallor, open sores of raw skin, red, wet. Marked fangs, extending their path, deepening through the skin, tearing it apart. Snape's neck was almost disfigured; Hermione lost her stoicism when she saw it without bandages covering it. It caused her horror and a bit of disgust. Luna openly cleaned the blood with a wet gauze, touching the injuries, spreading ointment with the same serenity she'd use on normal skin. The man was strongly holding onto the sheets, tightening his jaw, lowering his lids. A few moans went out of his fiercely closed mouth. Then Luna's voice drew whispers in his ear that Hermione couldn't hear.

Granger's hands descended hesitantly onto the Occlumens' neck; she already had the balm in her fingers, spreading it across the red, unprotected skin with tentative caution. Black eyes shone under hers, fixed, sharp.

Snape was looking at her.

He was completely at her mercy, like a captured wild animal, and he was looking at them with the same suspicion and mistrust one of those tamed beasts would show.

At that moment it came to her mind the images of all those times he had mocked her in class, of the many occasions where he had humiliated her, Harry and Ron. It was ironic to find oneself in a situation like this, where he depended on the girl he had been cruel to and despot uncountable times. Nevertheless, Hermione didn't try to hurt him when she applied the balm; she just did it coldly, without showing compassion. She only gave him the mechanic movement of her hands over the wounds, without paying attention to his pained expression and the whimpers he tried to contain with all his might. She told herself that man was paying only a small part for all the evil he had done.

She couldn't bring herself to believe in his innocence. For a long time she was the only one of the trio that held him in some esteem and she refused to believe he was a bad person, given the regard Dumbledore held for him, but when he killed the director in such a cowardly way, she lost any respect she may had felt for him. It was more than losing respect, it was losing faith in people.

Snape was bad; he had proved it and Hermione wasn't budging so easily, she wouldn't make the mistake of trusting him, just like Harry was doing. To believe in that man was lethal, Dumbledore had already gone through that.

She'd be alert to protect Harry. She wasn't to be fooled so easily.

Luna looked at the roof with her soft, distant smile.

"Do you really think Snape is innocent?" it took Hermione long minutes to dare ask her that, to exteriorize some of the uncertainty that overwhelmed her.

The blonde nodded without looking away from the roof.

"Why?" Granger insisted, with the annoying feeling her partner wasn't paying her any attention.

"He is," Lovegood insisted with firm certainty, still smiling as if she had been asked the simplest question of her life. Hermione couldn't help feeling angry by that simplicity and pig-headedness.

"How do you know he's innocent? You can't just know."

Luna shrugged.

"A traitor doesn't have Professor Snape's expression."

Granger bent a bit, trying to get a better view of her friend's face.

"Did you see his face when professor McGonagall attacked him? That tells me he isn't bad."

Hermione leaned her back against the cold stone wall, remembering those words that had deeply confused her.

You have your mother's eyes.

What was Snape? Who was he?

She had been left alone hours ago, reading a book, trying to overcome boredom. The Occlumens was asleep; he was asleep for most of the time, and it was a relief for Hermione; she wouldn't have stand the tense silence stretching for hours and hours.

The twilight barely entered through the windows, a few sketches of dying sun.

Someone knocked the gigantic door, and Hermione knew very well those patient, gradual knocks. She ran to greet Harry and Ron, but found instead a landscape empty of any of her friends, but their heads appeared in the air, their shoulders, their legs. And soon she saw, at the feet of both boys, the Cloak of Invisibility.

She could only find in Harry's face a fake smile.

"I need you to come with me, Herms, today there's a second session of the trial."

The brunette watched him stunned, then frowned, showing how angry she was.

"But the next session was two weeks from now."

"They rescheduled it," said Ron, crossing his arms. Harry nodded.

"It was to be expected from them, they rescheduled it without telling us. I just found out a few hours before, we had to leave now."

Hermione turned her face towards the stretcher.

"And Professor Snape?"

Ron grimaced, armed with previous resignation.

"If there's no one else, I guess I'll have to stay."

Harry and Granger looked at each other, common anguish interlinking their eyes.

Harry seemed uncomfortable, shifting in his seat repeatedly, unable to find a tolerable position. The room was too cold, Hermione had to cross her arms to compensate for the chillness of the place. The registrar's voice filled the hall, pronouncing firmly his arguments against Snape.

It was Harry's turn; his steps rumbled over the whole place. Granger was nervous, something told her they were going to lose that session; she wasn't even convinced of his innocence, after all, and the registrar's arguments sounded very reasonable to her, they had managed to increase the doubt in her mind.

"We've all misjudged professor Snape, we were wrong. In my first year of Hogwarts I accused him of trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone myself, and that same year Voldemort revealed to me that Snape was trying to protect it, there are witnesses of that willing to declare."

The jury held a contemplative silence.

"During my third year in Hogwarts Snape protected us from a werewolf, the late Remus Lupin. He put himself between us despite being attacked in his youth by that same person. Had he wished for my death, he wouldn't have intervened."

The registrar rubbed his chin with his hand languid and arrogantly.

"Mr Potter, haven't you considered the possibility of Severus Snape protecting you because his master, Lord Voldemort, wanted to kill you himself? Don't you think Voldemort would have punished him for letting you die in the hands of a… werewolf?" he added, distastefully.

Harry didn't know what to say, that was certainly a possibility. Hermione stood up to back up her friend.

"If that was the reason, professor Snape wouldn't have any reason to protect Ronald Weasley and me, and yet he did," Hermione's voice rose. Sometimes Potter swelled with pride when he heard her speak; she had always been an invaluable support for him.

The registrar nodded.

"You'll understand, Miss Granger, that your testimony as a loyal sidekick of Mr Potter isn't completely reliable, without mentioning Severus Snape was risking his façade as a responsible teacher and member of the Order. To let you die would mean to have his stance doubted; after all, nobody has forgotten what he was, that he is…" he remarked with derision and certainty. "a Death Eater. So, Mr Potter, the question is, do you have any actual proof or argument to defend him?"

Harry gritted his teeth, eyes ablaze with outrage; colour had left his face. His voice was full of vehemence.

"Professor Snape isn't by any means a Death Eater, he risked his life to give information to Dumbledore, information that always helped us. The professor almost died—"

"Mr Potter," the man interrupted him, authoritarian. "What was it that convinced you of Severus Snape's innocence?"

The young man looked at the jury's faces as if he saw only empty seats and big space of air.

"His memories."

"His memories… which you haven't shown us, which could be fake, fabricated by the accused, and you only have as evidence the testimony of your closest friends, without a doubt influenced by you, making their declarations invalid."

Harry opened his mouth just to realized there weren't any words left, he had nothing to say; he turned to Hermione for help: the girl was biting her lip helplessly with clouded eyes, unable to find any rebuttal.

They had miserably lost the second part of the trial.

Potter went to the Whomping Willow, shrank by his defeat with the jury; he had to talk to Snape, it was time the man helped with his own defence. Nobody would know the dates, information and names that would prove his innocence better than him.

Granger and he stopped suddenly when they saw a bunch of people standing close to the willow, talking loudly, moving their hands, arguing. But when they noticed Harry's presence, they kept silence and watched them, stunned.

Harry walked with determination between them and soon began to run to avoid the willow's swings. Hermione ran behind him, noticing how people started to talk louder, apparently shaken up by Potter's arrival.

Harry knew something bad had happened, he didn't even need to ask; in his head there was already a firm suspicion of what was happening.

He found even more people on the entrance of the Shrieking Shack, in between he met Ronald, who was violently arguing with a man dressed up as a warden.

"Harry," Luna's soft, distant voice spoke. When he turned he found a pair of murky blue eyes. "They followed me here, it looks like they were waiting for me. I'm sorry, Harry."

"Where's Professor Snape?"

Luna looked at him square in the face; a breeze of decay appeared in her face, of upcoming clouds, of a stormy day.

"They took the professor to Azkaban."