Chapter 7 – Comprehension

As the bossy young witch left his company to be the fierce, unstoppable force of magnificence he had always known she would become, Severus surveyed his surroundings. He stared at the bed she had transfigured for him, complete with very comfortable looking pillows and a thick, luxurious duvet – that girl really is very good at everything, I bet there's even a warming charm over the whole thing.

He approached the single bed slowly – I really am quite tired, maybe I should rest; but can I trust her? She seems to know I was not particularly acting of my own volition in killing Albus but she was… she still is so loyal to the manipulative old git; could she really have my best interests at heart?

Reaching the small wooden bedframe, he placed her gifted items down and turned to collect his wand; with his magic returning he needed to be prepared in case anyone did come looking, despite Miss Granger's assurances they would not - he was supposed to be dead, and he intended to adhere to her advice and stay that way. At least until the war was decided one way or the other.

Maybe I should check her wards. My magic must have stabilised. That empathic wave I felt from her wouldn't have registered otherwise, surely.

"Clipeum Revelio"

He gasped in astonishment.

Impressive. Seven wards. 'The Admittance Limiter' – only her, thank Salazar; 'Anti-Apparition' – of course but… is that… no, surely not… a 'HR Blocker' – my goodness Miss Granger, even homenum revelio won't detect my continued existence. That is quite beyond N.E.W.T. level, Auror-stealth training level in fact – Tonks perhaps showed her, or Madeye?

He continued inspecting her wards, his magical core returning to health more and more as the seconds ticked by. Many wizards and witches would take longer to recover but Severus Snape had the good-fortune of being strongly magical and with the precious healing on phoenix tears, the stabilisation took mere minutes whilst he identified her remaining wards – two forms of magic-repellent and a ward he'd never seen before, never even heard of which, from what he could discern, immobilised the effectiveness of the Imperius Curse – such a thing should be in the Auror Training Manual – which he had read several times. It was not. Surely she isn't nearly as advanced in her defensive magic to create such a powerful shield – she must have learned it from one of the Auror's in the Order, he thought dismissively. Although if anyone was going to have the motivation, intelligence and skill to invent and cast an anti-imperius ward, it would be Hermione Jean Granger – the girl is a walking magical monsoon.

The final ward Severus detected was not on the shack itself but specifically tailored to him; it prevented all and any form of attack from landing on his person whilst he remained in the broken down dwelling. Another very advanced ward; she really is a magical dynamo. The specifics of it are… he allowed his magic, his sense to creep out and touch the ward, examine it and what he found was astonishing. What? It's an emotion based ward – she has to feel, really feel a surge of protective affection. But that was not the element of the ward that was flabbergasting. And a… a… sexual component… for me… to cast this. It's a lover's ward.

His heart tightened in his chest at the revelation, his breath shallowed. She couldn't possibly? But then…

The epiphany that Hermione Granger was lusting for him, more than lusting for this ward to be enacted, was a tonic to soothe years of self-loathing; an impressively smug expression graced his striking features; the signature lift of his disbelieving eyebrow reaching new heights…

Well who would have thought it? The Gryffindor Princess crushing of the Bat of the Dungeons, he considered in all his pride and smugness, albeit with high levels of surprise, and laughed at the absurdity. His still not-quite-under-control body reared in triumph at attracting the young, nubile witch and he felt a twitch in his undergarment at the mostly unconscious things his mind allowed at the discovery.

His stomach growled to distract where his mind might have been going and he looked down at it.

"Okay, okay. I'll eat." He opened the lunchbox first and took a bite of the ham salad sandwich; he was sure it would have tasted completely fine, that Miss Granger was as adept at sandwich construction as she was at everything else, but his throat stung with parchedness as he swallowed and he switched to bottle of water before planning to succumb to the demands of his empty stomach.

"Aaaah, sweet nectar of the Gods." He sighed with relief as he sat stiffly on the edge of the bed; he drank deeply, almost the entire bottle he realised as he looked back at it a moment later. She really is a very good nurse maid.

The image of Hermione in a 1950's muggle nurses uniform, complete with white-seamed stockings and Slytherin-green stilettos entered his head. He lay down, the sandwich forgotten for more delightful thoughts, imagining her leaning over to tend him in such a way that her uniform gaped at the chest and he could stare at her ample cleavage. He imagined burying his face in between her ripe, perfectly-rounded, exactly-fitting-the-size-of-his hands breasts and a surge of arousal flooded through him, stirring his flaccid-for-too-long cock.

With the war still raging, he knew Hermione would be some time and so he moved a hand hastily toward the buttons of his quickly tenting trousers. Top button released, he moved to the one below it but then stopped. Something very unusual was happening…

It took only a moment for him to realise the something that was happening to him was magical and that it was the effect of Miss Granger's gifted water. Warmth spread through his body, easing his muscles, relieving decades of twinges, aches and pains. His shoulders relinquished their tension and he felt… tired, consumed by the last two decades of fear-induced insomnia, and a true disabling of awareness overpowered him. It felt wonderful and he did not have the will to fight it and so, he let go and allowed his consciousness to slip incrementally into sweet, restorative darkness.

He was almost there, almost completely lost to unconsciousness when a prickle danced across his synapses; it's like an itch I can't quite scratch; no, a tickle caressing nerve endings and yet… and yet… not quite that either. It's almost both and neither. An invading magic, Severus recognised, although he was now too far from consciousness to resist it - not quite dark but certainly not light. Healing? Old? It was a magic he had never encountered – very old, very powerful and more healing than he could possibly understand as it twisted through his body restoring, rejuvenating and replenishing.

At the loss of control, he felt panic rise within him. Am I discovered? Has Riddle read Miss Granger's mind and come back to kill me again? Is it the snake again? His heart gave several stark palpitations at the fear of Nagini's return but after another moment and his attempt at a deep breath the prickling sensation was stopped. Or rather it changed; settled, sunk into his veins, floated on his breath and soothed his fears, lulling his mind back into the warm comfort of darkness. He tried to hold on to consciousness but it was in vain, deep, calming waves of magic rolled over him in waves and once more, completely this time, exhaustion finally claimed his consciousness.

SS

He could sense her before she was even in the room. Severus had no idea how long he had been asleep but he felt extraordinarily rested; whatever had been in that water had worked wonders. He didn't attempt to move, much too comfortable. It felt as though she stood beyond the door for almost an age; he could feel her anxiety - empathic abilities were so second nature to him – he felt her questioning herself, and a high level of confusion but there was something else…subtle at first but it grew rapidly and then she was… decided.

Unable to help himself, he allowed his restored magic and his own mind to skirt through the wooden barrier and into her very tidy, much organised thoughts. Except he did not see what he was expecting…

He was stood in an expansive foyer, light and airy, clean. It seemed scented with sandalwood and cigar smoke; his brand of cigars, his sandalwood soap. He ignored the slight skip of a beat his heart gave and surveyed the area.

A desk sat in the middle of the floor space and a single book lay on its surface. He approached and examined the book. The pages were blank. He thought for a moment, the space reminded him of a library; very Hermione Granger but it was empty, devoid of books. Almost like an occluded library, and then it hit him, like a ton of bricks. He almost bounced back out of her mind as he blanched at the significance of her achievement; he was in her occluding space. This was the only place anyone employing legillemency against her could reach without her knowledge; it took an incredible amount of mental discipline to create an occluding space rather than just putting up walls. This was advanced occlumency, almost at Severus' own level. The book was a portal to her consciousness. He was beyond impressed, to have mastered an occluding space at eighteen was unheard of – she was glorious. Severus felt himself slip deeper in love with the young witch; not that he was ready to admit it, but it was there.

He could feel the whir of her thoughts outside the room but had no access to them. It annoyed him more than he imagined it would. While he was amazingly proud of her occlumency achievement, his curiosity was stronger, palpable in fact and he was positively vibrating with the urge to know what was taking her so long to enter the room where he waited for her.

A sense of something hit him, a phrase burned in his brain – 'pick a feature'. It echoed in his mind, in her voice.

What could that possibly mean?

His magic was focusing on the book on the desk and he consciously moved the energy to pierce its defences; he suspected he would sense a mental anguish when his mind attempted to enter the book, assumed the tome would defend itself and prayed to any deity who might be listening that she would forgive him. But he found no resistance.

She's either too lost in her own thoughts to recognise the breach or she… she… really does… trust me. Well, this is unexpected.

An image appeared on the crisp white parchment of the book – his face; it seemed to be artistically sketched in charcoal, shadows and highlights masterfully recounted the lines and shape of his visage but the features were smudged out, a blur; his hair however, his hair was glowing; not at all reminiscent of the greasiness he was well known for but shining as if it had never interacted with the vapours of a potion. A disembodied hand with slim, agile fingers moved through the shoulder-length inky blackness of fine strands before the whole images melted into the page and was gone.

Severus was stunned as he watched the renewed emptiness of the page. It took a few moments before another image appeared. A carefully drawn watercolour this time of… his mouth…? She had captured the thin curves of his lips perfectly, the tone and texture were flawless; he felt he could be looking into a mirror. Exactly how much time has she spent looking?

A tongue slipped between the two thin pillows of a masculine pout before slipping back into the cavernous depths of an imagined mouth and a sneer curved one corner of the fantasy lips and they moved into the shape of the word 'insufferable'. His heart sank a little that this was what she imagined his mouth to still reiterate and, just as suddenly the painted lips straightened back into a thin line before smiling and finally squeezed into a tight, childlike kiss.

Again, the art of her mind faded. Severus waited.

More artistic works of Hermione's mind flashed onto the pages as they occasionally flipped before settling to let him see…

He stood at the front of his potions class, teaching a class of fourth year Gryffindors' Hermione included; her heart beating quickly at the sound of his voice listing ingredients for a Cheering Solution. The first time she felt aroused by me… by my voice.

Another flurry of pages.

He was stalking through the Great Hall at Hogwarts as his robes billowed around him – 'oh the billowing' he heard her inner voice. My voice and the billowing of my robes… interesting combination Miss Granger.

Another.

He sat at the head table in the Great Hall talking animatedly, for him, with Aurora Sinistra. Jealousy?

This time the image faded again but as a new one formed, Severus was amazed, astounded and aghast… something he never believed he would see in the mind of the young Gryffindor witch…

Headmaster Severus Snape leaning against the ornate desk in his office, eyes closed, head thrown back whilst she knelt before him, her mouth enthusiastically enveloping his wizardhood.

Shock filled every fibre of his being as he watched the pencil sketch scene play out on the page… seconds ticked by as her sketched head bobbed up and down on the drawn engorgement of his arousal, her scribbles of cascading curls shifting as she lifted and lowered her mouth. He watched in awe as the scene continued, in arousal, as her idea of his body tensing for climax was revealed and in amusement as he heard his own orgasmic declaration: "100 points for Gryffindor".

Oh, that girl! He thought his affection for her blossoming further at her cheek.

The fellating scene faded and so too did the occlumency space darken around him; Severus found his consciousness returning to his own body.

Unbelievable.

So unbelievable in fact that he attempted to wipe a hand down his face, to remind himself that he was awake and not dreaming himself. But to his utter dismay, he could not. His hand, his whole arm in fact would not obey the command to move. He tried the other side: nothing. His legs equally were incapable of movement. His eyes wouldn't open.

Panic rose quickly and he felt his chest constricting, his breath hitched. He couldn't move. The two further minutes it took for her to enter the room felt like a lifetime to Severus but the second the door opened, his panic reached its peak and shattered. He knew it was her, he could sense her, smell her and her presence somehow calmed him. She saved me once, she'll know something is wrong, she will save me again, he rationalised as he finally exhaled.

She was standing in the doorway though, unmoving. What is she doing? Come here, Miss Granger. You're my only hope… he steeled himself for his next thought: I need you.

She bolted back through the archway and according to the determined wave of emotion that rolled off her and along his empathic senses, she was on a mission. Many hours later, probably only minutes, maybe even seconds – it was hard to tell when you couldn't see – the Shrieking Shack shook. Severus recognised the effects of casting a Fidelius Charm and wondered what had possessed her to do so; was Voldermort gone? Had the war been won?

Her thoughts, her desires, had taken him so completely by surprise he had barely registered that the war may be over, that the soulless bastard despot might actually be dead, since she had returned. Now, as he waited for her to return once more, it flooded his mind and he immediately thought of his dark mark. He couldn't feel it at all, as he usually could. Even when he was not actively being summoned, it burned, itched or prickled with his dark master's mood. He couldn't feel anything on his left forearm; it was as if the accursed mark of his Death Eater brand wasn't there at all. Is that even possible?

He felt the bed suddenly sink near his middle and all thoughts of Voldermort vanished as Severus was unceremoniously wrenched back to his present situation, his current condition and his annoying paralysis. She was there. Sitting with him. He heard her gasp and then… then… she was touching him.

An unexpressed shiver ripped through him as the lightest touch of fingertips flittered over his cheekbone, then along his jawline. Her small, warm hand hovered over his face and he knew that even if he wasn't paralyzed by some unknown magical faux pas, he would be frozen as she delicately explored the contours of his old, worn out face.

Her touch was exquisite, reverent but seemed almost shy and when her thumb softly smoothed his forehead, he wanted to sigh with pleasure. Instead, his senses - so highly alert in this intimate moment - caught a single, questioning word on the surface of her thoughts… free?

He was just readying himself to ponder what she meant by the question when the warmth of her caress vanished; he felt cold at its loss but was jerked from pondering that too by the witch fumbling with something at his left wrist. What is she doing?

"So many bloody buttons." He heard grind out in frustration at her struggle and chuckled inwardly. He had always chosen clothes that were both black and concealing of his dark mark; not to mention difficult to remove. This set of robes, his Death Eater robes in fact, had a light charm on the buttons to add to the resistance of undoing them. "You really need a new wardrobe, you know that?" she questioned as if he could answer.He found himself wanting to scoff.

You could use magic, you know? Like for like, he chose to question her as if she could hear him. She was doing well, considering she must've been exhausted from the battle, three buttons in twice as many minutes but as she let out an exasperated sigh and slowed her hands, Severus felt she was giving up.

However, he had forgotten momentarily that this witch was muggleborn and as such was not as restricted in her thoughts of how to deal with little annoyances such as charmed bloody buttons. When he heard a tear of fabric and felt his sleeve being roughly pushed up his arm, he exalted, proud of her, and heard her triumphant "YES!" He would finally know… was he gone… was Tom Riddle finally defeated? Am I finally free?

He felt her fingers again. This time they were ghosting over his forearm, elbow to wrist; the location of the worst magical contract of his life, his servitude to darkness. The fingertips traversing his skin were barely touching him at all, they felt like a breath, exploring.

His mind reached out once more, as delicately as her fingertips to caress her thoughts; what he hadn't counted on was her thoughts wanting to caress something other than his arm. Amused, he remained to see how far her mind would imagine molesting his prone form. Disappointingly though, she chastised herself before whispering aloud, to him…

"It's gone, Professor."

Hope flooded his whole body, every sense he possessed and whether it was muscle memory or the sheer force of emotion that washed through him as she whispered her observation, Severus didn't know but something in his magical binding slipped, just a little and he felt his arm tense up under her gentle hold.

She jumped nervously but didn't let go.

Still in her mind, as he was, he heard her panic… 'It's too soon. I'm not ready. Don't wake up yet. Pleeeease.' And simultaneously, her whispered words continued in soothing, honeyed tones…

"Ssshhh, Professor." She was removing his arm from her feather-light touch, slowly, scared. "Ssssh, it's ok. You're safe."

His body obeyed her silent command to not wake up and he found himself unwillingly falling back into the darkness of slumber, his mind unsuccessfully clawing for consciousness.

A/N: Well here we have one of my favourite scenes so far as seen from Severus' mind. This side of the story is taking up more writing and adding more insights that I thought it would and so each scene or possibly two scenes will have its own chapter until we are back up to the present. I'm really loving this story which is why I have pressed forward with it ahead of my others but I will be updating Girl's Night in the next few days too. Never fear.

Follows, favourites and reviews appreciated as always.