Chapter Twenty
Hermione groaned and threw the blankets aside. There was no point in pretending to be asleep now, not when the sun was beginning to rise; not when it was her morning to care for the thestrals, anyway. She would have been up in an hour regardless, and it wasn't like another sleepless night was going to kill her. She would just have to stop by the Hospital Wing for a dreamless sleep potion tonight- it was quite possibly the only thing that would be able to take her mind off of her current thoughts.
Her shocking realization that she had, indeed, grown overly fond of her former professor had kept her far from sleep that night, and still plagued her this morning as she readied for the day in the quiet dormitory. Yet despite her obsessing, she had been unable to settle on a state of mind. The only progress she had made had been to acknowledge that yes, she liked Snape, quite a bit in fact. What she was still trying to figure out was how deep this affection went. And it certainly didn't help that she had been frequently distracted from her musings by other thoughts- impossibly dark eyes; long, lithe fingers; lips the color of-
She shook her head abruptly as she made her way to the bathroom. It was little surprise her night of contemplation had been so worthless. It was as if her mind had been forced to hold all this back, but now that she freely admitted her feelings, the thoughts burst forth as if they were dammed. And damned am I, she thought wryly as she washed her face. Damned if I write to him, damned if I don't.
She did not want to lose the friendship she had worked so hard to attain, but could she bring herself to make the first step? Could she rightly put quill to parchment and write a letter that would read as it had before, without any inclination of her current feelings? This was Severus Snape, after all; Master Spy. If anyone would pick up on a change in writing, it would be him. Could she risk him finding out? What would he do if he knew?
The chances of him ever feeling the same were so minute she had barely even considered the possibility- why on earth would he grow fond of her? Putting aside his apparent undying love of Lily Evans Potter, how could he- a man of his intellect, a man nearly twice her age, a man with leagues more life experience than her- even look her way? He couldn't even call her by her given name. No, Severus Snape was not the sort of man that would ever show interest in her like that.
So she would have to hide it. Whatever it was. Was it just a small crush? An innocent fascination brought on by his intriguing letters and the help he had provided her? Or was it something more? Her stomach clenched whenever she thought of him; thought of his intense stare, his smirks of amusement, the sound of his laugh, the soothing, rich tones of his voice...
Damn it all to hell! she fumed, marching from the bathroom to grab her bag, casting a quick glance over the Marauders Map and barely registering what she was seeing before storming out of the room and down the stairs. If I keep thinking this way I'm going to drive myself mad. Yes, I like him, but I'm not going to obsess over him!
She knew nothing would come of this, of her feelings for this man. Aside from his assured disinterest, she couldn't exactly say she herself was ready for a relationship even if he was willing. She has just started to recover from her break-up with Ron, and she knew she had a long way to go before she could possibly let herself be that vulnerable with another person again. Yet, that fact did nothing to stop her wanton thoughts. Thoughts she couldn't help but to enjoy, despite their unhelpfulness.
Her cheeks flushed again as she allowed herself a moment of weakness, a small indulgence into her mind's eye. What would it look like, them coming together? She could picture it clearly; the warmth of his hands on her waist, her fingers clutching his thick, woolen robes, the heated look in his eyes as his head tilts, the moment of anticipation shooting through her like lightning right before he-
"Watch out!"
An ice cold sensation washed over her as she strode directly through the ghost of Sir Nicholas, and in that moment Hermione truly understood a frustrated man's desire to take a cold shower- not a single feeling her thoughts had been evoking remained after that moment. Shivering, she turned to apologize to the ghost, mortified that she had let herself become so distracted thinking of that. Her apology was waved off good-naturedly, and she turned her red cheeks forward once more, determined to bury all thoughts of Snape behind her Occlumency shield- not that it had done her any good last night.
Still chilled by the lingering effects of her ghostly plunge, the brisk November morning only added insult to injury. She walked quickly to the edge of the forest where the thestrals were kept, all the while rubbing her arms and hunching into herself against the wind. A warming charm would do little against a breeze this strong, but she tried it anyway. At least my core is warmer, she thought sourly as she tucked her nose into her scarf.
Though she was no longer distracted with thoughts of Snape, she couldn't say she was feeling any more at peace. In fact, the longer she walked, the less at peace she felt. With every step she took towards the forest, she grew more and more uneasy, and as she reached the edge of the tree line, her apprehension peaked. The forest hasn't bothered me in a while, she contemplated, squinting to see through the mass of trees. Why would it set me off now?
Perhaps there was something- or someone- in its branches. The Marauders Map did not cover the forest itself, but it did touch on the outskirts. Perhaps a centaur was watching her? She hoped it was- she could reason with a centaur, unlike most of the forest's denizens. Reaching into the pocket of her cloak she typically carried the map in, she winced when her fingers came up empty.
"Shit!" she muttered, looking back at the castle- in her distracted state of mind, she had left the map in her dormitory. Dread struck her chest like a weight, and she stumbled back from the edge of the forest, fearful of it now that she had no way of ascertaining her safety.
As she stepped back, a shadow shimmered under the branches- and seemingly out of nowhere, a man stepped into the light of day, wand drawn. She recognized him instantly, and her fear was paralyzing.
It all happened very quickly. She heard his incantation, felt an immediate wave of panic, and fumbled for her wand, when her left arm was pulled upwards of its own volition at the same time a tendril of bright, pure magic shot out of the sky and struck her wrist- and the bracelet that hung from it. A blast of power erupted from that point, throwing her attacker off balance as a large, shimmering protective shield expanded in front of her. The spell impacted the shield, shattering it, the curse dispersed in its wake. For a long moment Hermione and her attacker stared at each other in shock.
Then his wand raised once more, and she went on the offensive.
Before she was able to cast her first spell she was struck by his stunning curse, and as she fell to her knees she wondered briefly why it hadn't completely knocked her out before she returned in kind. He blocked it easily, striding forward, his face twisted in fury as he jabbed his wand towards her with a snarled, "Crucio!"
"Protego!" she shouted instinctively, raising her arm. The unforgiveable shot through her shield, as she knew it would, and had she not been reacting instinctively she would not have relied on her bracelet at all. But at the moment of impact she found she was very glad she had, for the agonizing pain the curse usually caused was dulled significantly- a burning sensation of pins and needles raked across her skin, but she was able to raise her wand and attempt another stunner. He blocked it with a roar.
"Why won't you STAY DOWN?!" He hurled another stunner at her, which she barely managed to block; the tendrils of the spell hit her, and the exhaustion the first spell had caused doubled. She fell onto her hands, gasping for air as she tried to maintain consciousness, only registering his approach when he pulled her up by her hair. "Crucio!" he cast point blank, and she grimaced and cried out as the pins and needles feeling returned with a vengeance.
"Oh, fuck this," he growled, throwing her to the ground. Kicking her in the stomach, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a small piece of glass. "Oi, incoming!" he shouted into it, and turned the item around- she saw an image of an alleyway and black robes before she was unceremoniously yanked back up by her hair once more and pulled close. A small, round object was shoved into her hand, and she felt a familiar, sickening pull from her navel before she disappeared off the grounds, unable even to scream.
The tinkling sound of the shop door bell alerted the owner to Severus' presence, and the old man nodded his way before heading to the back of the shop. Their association went back to before he had begun teaching at Hogwarts, and they had a mutual understanding with each other that neither preferred discussion over silence, an agreement he was very thankful for. Besides his general displeasure for small talk, it was far too early in the morning to entertain such notions.
The shop kept strange hours, opening before most others in Hogsmeade, and Severus took advantage of the quiet solitude whenever possible. It was not an overly roomy store, after all, and was well stocked- which left little room for maneuvering around other shoppers. The earlier he came, the more likely he would be able to leave without encountering another soul.
His hopes were dashed as he was sorting through a barrel of bezoars, when the shop bell tinkled again. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as two men approached the counter, glancing around before the taller of the two gestured to the back wall, and the other made his way over to it. They wore heavy cloaks, and their hoods were up, which wasn't surprising considering the frigid wind he had endured on his way over to the shop. He turned back to the bezoars, listening but otherwise ignoring the two of them.
An arm crossed his vision, startling him; surprisingly, he hadn't heard the man approach. He glanced over, but the hood was still concealing his face. He grunted at the man's apologetic "excuse me," and made to turn away from the barrel when the sleeve of the man's robes slipped down his wrist enough to show off a fading tattoo- one Severus was exceedingly familiar with.
The moment his eyes landed on the snake, his wand was in his hand, but in that same moment he felt the point of a wand in his back; he froze.
"Good morning, Severus," the man behind him hissed, so close to his ear Severus' hair blew in his breath. The stench caused his face to pinch.
"It was, at least," he muttered in response. "Antonin, Julien, it's been a while." Blast it all, and he had been so careful. How had they found him?
"I'm surprised to see you without your mudblood," Antonin taunted, jabbing his wand harder into Severus' back. "Sent her off to school, have you?"
"One must take special pride in the future generation's educational status." He glanced behind him, raising a brow in feigned repose. "Or else one's liable to repeat past mistakes. Speaking of, Antonin, is this truly something you wish to continue?"
Antonin jerked his head over Severus' shoulder. "Relieve him of his wand," he ordered the other Death Eater.
"I don't think so," he said, digging his wand tip into Julien's throat. "Now that I can see you, I'm feeling rather impulsive. Where's your third, by the way? Off on another massacre?"
Behind him, Antonin barked out a laugh. "Let's just say he's, ah, 'furthering his education,' and will be with us shortly."
The words hit him like a blow to the guts and he froze, ice seeping through his veins. Hermione.
"I see you took my meaning." Antonin shifted, his wand pushing between Severus' shoulder blades now, and he continued, "You are a skilled duelist; you won't have much trouble taking us out if you really tried. I personally wouldn't recommend it, though. Look around you- how many of these potions ingredients react well to magical stimulus? Would you risk a duel in a mine field such as this?"
"What is your end goal, Antonin?" He was barely able to grind out the words, focusing almost entirely on not casting the killing curse- at least, not yet.
"Oh, I doubt you'll see the end," he replied casually, "but you'll take a large interest in the immediate events, I'm sure."
"Planning a soiree, are we?"
"Shut it, Snape," hissed Julien, breaking his silence as he batted the other man's wand away from his neck. Severus instead pointed it at his chest.
"Patience," said Antonin. "All will be revealed shortly. Now, if you'll be so kind as to accompany us outside, Severus. I'm sure the shopkeep will be waking shortly and it's a scene I would rather avoid."
"And just why-"
"I was under the impression that you would wish to see your mudblood one last time."
Sparks flew from his wand tip, and Julien yelped. "If you hurt her-"
"Yes, yes, I've heard the threat before," Antonin replied in a bored tone. "Are you coming willingly, or will we be blowing up the apothecary in a needless duel?"
It took Severus only a moment to sheathe his wand and stand upright.
"You'll forgive us if we don't trust you with that," Julien said, gesturing to where he had stashed his weapon.
"You have me outnumbered two to one," he responded stiffly. "You'll be fine."
Julien glanced at Antonin, who replied, "we aren't stupid, Severus."
When he didn't say anything else, Severus sighed and relinquished his wand, watching carefully as Julien tucked it into his belt.
"Right then," said Antonin as Snape turned slowly towards the door. "Shall we?"
Before they left the apothecary, Severus found his hands bound tightly behind his back. The two men led him out the building and into the alley that ran alongside it, wands poking sharply into his back to ensure his behavior. They needn't have bothered; he would have gone willingly. Hermione was in danger, and once again it was all his fault.
The alleyway was unsurprisingly abandoned, and the moment they entered the two men began casting notice-me-not spells and anti-appariton wards on the space. It was unnecessary, the streets being as abandoned as they were. When Julien's wand returned to his back, Antonin walked forward and turned to face him. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this," the other man gloated, a distasteful smirk marring his features.
Before Severus could reply, a muffled call was heard from inside Antonin's robes. "Oi! Incoming!" When he reached into his pocket and removed a small glass object, his smirk turned into a full blown grin.
"Party's almost here," he said triumphantly, turning the glass so that Severus could see.
As his eyes took in the sight of Hermione, struggling to stand, his body filled with absolute dread.
Hermione's legs collapsed from under her as they re-appeared in the alleyway; the stunner hadn't been able to knock her out, but her strength had left her all the same. The arms around her torso tightened, pulling her painfully against a broad chest, and she struggled to support her weight once more.
"Ah, there they are!"
The call from the other end of the alley was horribly familiar, and her head snapped up. MacNair grunted and muttered, "sorry for the hold-up, the bitch has some sort of protection on her; no spell would touch her properly."
Trying to focus her swimming gaze, she squinted at the three men across the alley. She recognized Antonin Dolohov, and saw the third in their party, though his name failed to come to mind, and at last her eyes landed on-
"Snape!"
In a sudden burst of panic, her strength returned, and she fought against the arms holding her. MacNair only tightened his hold, digging his fingers painfully into her sides.
Antonin laughed, and motioned MacNair forward. "Let me look at her," he demanded excitedly. "I want to see that pretty scar I gifted her."
"Oh leave her alone, Antonin," spat Snape from behind him, being restrained by the third Death Eater. "It's me you want, leave her out of this."
"You'll get your turn, Severus," Antonin replied, eyeing Hermione now with a hungry glint. "I haven't forgotten you." The Death Eater reached out and cupped Hermione's cheek, his thumb wrapping around her chin. Jerking her head to the side, he admired her as if appraising her value, his head tilted in appreciation. "I can see why you like her," he spoke behind him. "She's quite pretty. If you can see past all that hair and the filth of her heritage, that is."
Hermione glared into the man's eyes, and he laughed again. "You still have that fire in you, I see. How long ago did I leave my mark on you? It's been well over two years now, hasn't it?" His wand pushed into her chest, nudging her cloak to the side as he attempted to get a glimpse of the scar he had given her in the Department of Mysteries.
Behind him, Hermione caught a glimpse of Snape jutting forward, only to be yanked back by the younger Death Eater and struck with a hex of some sort, judging by the painful grimace that now painted his features. "Quit taunting the girl and let her go," he gritted through his teeth.
"Or what?" MacNair replied nastily, pulling an arm around to grab her hair, jerking it back and giving Antonin more room to work with.
"Hell would be better." The threat came from deep within Snape's chest, and the grunt that followed set Hermione's already wired nerves on fire.
Antonin made a hum of acknowledgement as he continued to slowly slide his wand down Hermione's chest, pulling her robes away from her skin as he went. "Forgive me for not taking you seriously, Severus, but I'm afraid I'm just a bit too... distracted, at the moment." He glanced up into Hermione's eyes, and the lustful malice she saw reflected in them was enough to drain any remaining color in her face. "Tell me, Hermione, have you let anyone else mark you as I have?"
Hermione poured every ounce of hatred into her glare as she snapped, "Don't you fucking touch me," and spat in his face.
His expression one of pure disgust, he raised a hand and backhanded her. Her head whipped to the side, and she could taste the copper of blood in her mouth. Her chin was grabbed roughly and she found her face inches from her attacker's, watching as he slowly wiped her saliva from his cheek with his sleeve. "You won't want to do that again," he hissed. "I don't know what sort of protection you're under, but there are ways of breaking it, and we have all the time in the world."
"We should start wrapping up, though," MacNair commented, tilting her head to the side and burying his face in her shoulder. "I've been very excited for this one here. I like it when they fight."
A hot, wrathful indignation flooded through Hermione as she struggled against the revolting embrace. If he wants me to fight, I'll give him a fight.
"All in good time," Antonin replied, turning back to Snape, who was currently on his knees in front of the third Death Eater. "There's a few things I would like to discuss with our old friend here first."
The moment she felt the fingers loosen in her hair, Hermione summoned all of her remaining strength and shoved against MacNair's arms at the same time she focused all her magic and cast a wandless stinging hex, throwing herself from his grasp and into the wall of the building; the man yelped and stumbled, thrown both off guard and off balance by the combination. The noise distracted Antonin, who turned his back on Snape to look behind him. The second he did so, Snape tore away the wrist bindings and threw his elbow backwards, striking his restrainer solidly in the stomach and knocking the wind out of him. Pulling something from the man's cloak- she recognized the dark wood of his wand- he used it immediately, sending his enemy to the ground.
Remembering her own, she pulled it free in time to cast a shield against MacNair's stunning spell, the red light dispersing around her. Snape had now turned his wand on Antonin, the man behind him no longer a threat, and was currently rebounding a slicing hex so that it flew back the way it came and struck MacNair in the shoulder of his wand arm. Watching as her attacker dropped his wand with a hiss of pain, she cast a quick stunning spell of her own and turned back to the other two.
The third man had quietly risen and had his wand pointed at Snape's back, and it was all she could do to shout, "Behind you!" as she slunk up against the wall, the stunner having spent her of whatever energy her adrenaline had managed to give her. Helpless, she watched as Snape's head whipped around, shielding against the curse the younger man sent his way, and hissing as Antonin's hex struck his side.
"Damn it all, do not let them get away again!" shouted Antonin, and the younger man turned towards Hermione, who had no more energy for magic and simply raised her wrist with a whispered "Protego!"
There must be a limit to what the bracelet could withstand, she thought blankly as the curse hit her through the shield. Whatever it had been, it bloody hurt, and she fell to her knees as her vision blurred.
"Oh no you don't," snarled Snape as he dodged Antonin's curse and whipped around to cast a- was that an arrow?- into the young man's thigh, whose leg collapsed under him. Hermione's stomach lurched as she saw the familiar purple fire exploding from Antonin's wand, but before it could strike, she was being yanked up by her elbow, wrapped into Snape's tight embrace, and-
Oh gods, he's flying us out of here!
She was supposed to be safe at Hogwarts!
The thought echoed in his head as he clutched the woman to his chest, flying them over rooftops and searching for a safe place to land. I'm going to kill Minerva. What the hell has she been doing?!
The moment he saw Hermione in that mirror, he knew he should have risked blowing up the apothecary. How they had managed to escape outnumbered, him without a wand and her without the strength to stand, he couldn't say; was it dumb luck, or was it the incapability of his former comrades? How they had evaded capture this whole time was nothing short of a miracle, and a testament to how thin the ministry truly was.
He didn't take them far- just a few alleys over. He landed solidly, steadying Hermione as she found her footing once more. "Are you all right?" he asked, gently pushing her from him by the shoulders so he could look into her eyes.
Where he had expected to see terror, tears, or even a dull numbness, he instead found an anger so hot he felt his face warming in her stare. "What kind of a stupid question is that?" she snapped. "No, I'm not all right! And neither are you! We've just been attacked, Snape!"
"I'm well aware of that fact," he shot back. He really had not been expecting this sort of reaction. "I need you to go, contact the Order, the Ministry- whoever you can get ahold of- and tell them to get their useless arses over here." He made to step back from her, but her hands were still clutching his robes. "Go!" he shouted.
"What will you do?"
"I'm going to keep them busy," he answered, trying and failing to remove her from his clothing.
Her hands clutched his robes tighter. "You aren't going back there!" she argued, shaking her head. "Not alone!"
"What sort of backup do I have? Let go of me, woman, and go get me some help!"
"I'm help!"
He stared down at her in frustrated disbelief. "You cannot stand of your own volition. You are a liability."
"You are injured!"
He growled then, and forcefully tore her hands from his cloak. "You will help me best by getting out of here and getting me some decent fighters!"
"If you leave me here I'll just follow you!"
"Hermione-"
"This is as much my fight as it is yours, Snape, and I have a right to be there!" Her intensity gave him pause, and she continued, "Besides, my strength is returning to me now. Your little fly-by of Hogsmeade Proper gave me the adrenaline boost I needed."
The longer they argued, the less likely he was going to find those men again. He didn't doubt her threats for a second, bull-headed Gryffindor that she was, and he would be damned if he put her in any more danger. Short of knocking her out himself his options were to risk her life in a fight or flee once more, and with a frustrated snarl he knew what he would choose.
He reached out and pulled Hermione to him again. "You are infuriating," he growled in her ear, before disapparating.
If Hermione had eaten breakfast, she would have lost it thrice over by now. Despite her claims to have had her strength back, the moment they had appeared wherever Snape had taken them and he strode away from her, she collapsed on the floor.
The carpet under her fingers was thick, softening the blow to her knees, and a deep slate grey. She could hear the roar of a fireplace come to life, but when she lifted her head she could see only the back of a camelback couch in a rich blue. Listening to the familiar whooshing of the floo network opening, she reached up to grab the back of the couch, hoisting herself off the floor.
"Minerva?" Snape stood in front of the fireplace, hand clutching his side, and she could see his robes were torn under his fingers. "Minerva!" He leaned is free arm against the mantle, taking deep breaths, before bellowing, "MINERVA!"
"I'm here, I'm here!" Hermione heard the panic in her headmistress's voice before her head appeared in the flames. "Severus, what in the bloody blazes is the matter? What could possibly warrant-"
"Silence yourself, woman," Snape snapped. "We've just been attacked again. I need you to contact Kingsley."
"Attacked? 'We?' Severus, who-"
"I'm here, Professor." Hermione's voice was thin, barely louder than a whisper, and she struggled to step around the couch. Muttering under his breath, Snape stepped forward and yanked her unceremoniously around the edge of it and forced her onto its cushions. She rubbed her arm, raising an eyebrow at him in question. Was that really necessary?
"Hermione?!" The shock on her face came through in impressive clarity in the flames. "What in heaven's name are you doing away from the school?"
"That is precisely what I was about to ask you, Minerva." Snape leaned forward against the mantle again, still clutching his side as he glared down at his former colleague.
Sensing discord, she spoke up before McGonagall could reply. "They came for me on my way to the thestral herd this morning."
Snape turned his head to look sharply her way. "What were you doing near the forest?"
Hermione began rubbing her temples, a headache growing behind her eyes. "It's part of our Care of Magical Creatures curriculum. It was my morning to tend to the thestrals."
Sputtering uncharacteristically, Snape whirled back towards the fire. "How, exactly, is sending her off to galivant in the Forbidden Forest keeping her safe?!"
"It's just the outskirts!" argued Hermione, ignoring his fierce glare as he turned to her again. "You know as well as I that the wards are completely intact at that point."
"And easily fooled by the forest's natural magical aura," he snapped at her.
"Does this really matter right now?" The headmistress's voice rose to meet theirs. "I take it you two are safe for the moment?" At Snape's assent, she continued, "Then I believe my time is best spent arranging a meeting with the Minister. You two stay where you are and I'll contact you when we're ready."
As her head disappeared from the fire, Snape pushed from the mantle, hissing in pain as he gripped his side tightly. He all but fell into the sofa next to her, his head falling backwards as he took in a number of deep, calming breaths.
Hermione watched carefully as the man next to her composed himself, taking in the tight lines of his face, the arch of his back as he leaned to his left, and the scraps of robe under his long fingers, exposing a raw, bloodied wound in his side.
"That looks awful!"
He shook his head dismissively. "I'll be fine." Glancing over her person, he asked, "Are you injured?"
She shook her head. "Just drained and bruised. The headache isn't pleasant, but..." biting her lip, she studied his wound. "Burning hex?" he nodded. "Do you have any burn paste?"
Wordlessly he summoned the jar, and she caught it as he reached out. "Hermione," he growled, but she just shook her head and unscrewed the lid.
"From the looks of it you can't reach half of it yourself. Let me do it for you."
"I don't need you to mother me," he snapped, reaching for the jar again, but she snatched it out of his grasp. "Damn it, Hermione, give me the bloody paste!"
"I'm glad to see you've gotten over your aversion to calling me that," she muttered, dipping her finger in the cool paste and reaching for his side. "Now hurry up and get over your aversion to me touching you."
"Have you always been this impossibly stubborn?"
"You of all people should know that I have, Master Snape." She began to apply the paste to his burn, surprised that he was allowing her to do so, and ignored the voice in the back of her mind that tried valiantly to remind her of her recent obsessive thoughts. Honestly, as if I don't have anything else to worry about right now.
"Yes, well, forgive me if I've had other things on my mind since I've taught you last."
She didn't reply, focusing entirely on applying the paste to where the burn had trailed up under his ribs and onto his back. She could feel how tightly he held himself, and wasn't sure if it was natural to him or if it was because she was touching him; either way, she couldn't blame him. She could feel the tension in her own neck and shoulders as she dealt with the after-effects of their attack. Perhaps they both needed a bit of a distraction.
"So," she said conversationally, "I assume we're in your house?" He grunted his confirmation, and she added, "It's nice."
She glanced up at his face and caught sight of his wry expression. "Have you even looked around since you landed?" he asked her, and she turned her head to take in her surroundings.
The room wasn't exactly spacious, but it wasn't horribly cramped either. The couch sat in the middle of the room facing the fireplace, a small coffee table in between the two. His desk was against the wall on her right, and on her left stood an impressive curio cabinet framed by curtained windows, which displayed a moderate amount of magical items. Taking up the entire wall behind her were numerous bookcases, filled floor to ceiling to bursting with tomes of all shapes and sizes. All of the furniture was of a dark wood, the accents a rich blue that matched the couch. While not exactly a warm environment, it was pleasantly soothing, and an appropriate style for the man sitting next to her.
"I thought you said your house burned down," she pondered, and he snorted.
"I bought another one."
"I figured that much out for myself, thanks." She rolled her eyes as she wiped the paste from her fingers with the edge of her robe, studying his bookshelves as he righted himself. "I only meant that I hadn't figured you were able to salvage any of it."
"I wasn't." Standing, he stretched experimentally to the side, and when he was satisfied he looked around the room. "This house is furnished by a combination of new purchases and my own belongings from Hogwarts."
"You kept so much at the school!" she exclaimed; he scoffed at that.
"I spent a whole of two months away from the place," he answered. "I had nothing of value in the ramshackle lodgings aside from decay and memories better oft forgotten." Stepping towards the doorway, he told her, "Sit there until I get back. If Minerva calls before I return, tell her I will only be a moment."
Watching as he strode out into the hall with slightly less grace than usual, Hermione sighed and rested her head on the back of the sofa. She had meant it when she told Snape she would follow him back to battle; at the time, the desperation pounding through her veins was enough to keep her upright and fighting. Now, though- after yet another mode of magical travel, after having a moment to catch her breath, to calm her rapidly beating heart- she was beyond relieved that they had run. Seeing just how serious his injury was, watching him clutch his side and struggle to breathe through the pain, had convinced her that she had done the right thing in preventing him to return to the fight alone.
She closed her eyes and sunk into the couch. She was tired. How on earth was she still awake? For that matter, how many spells had she taken? She should be at least somewhat injured, surely. She was sore, fatigued, and her head ached, but she had no serious injuries. It was a miracle she had been able to fight as much as she had.
She could feel her consciousness fading as she sat there, in Snape's living room, on his couch. She must have drifted off, for the next thing she knew she was being shaken awake. When she opened her eyes, she saw Snape kneeling in front of her, frowning in concern. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked her, eyebrows furrowed.
Yawning, she nodded. "I was hit by a few stunners," she answered, "so I'm just... really drained."
He waved his wand, and moments later a potion vial flew towards his outstretched hand. He handed it to her label up, and she recognized his scrawl as she read it- Invigoration Draught. "Oh... thanks," she whispered, uncorking the vial and downing the liquid. Almost immediately the mental fog began to clear, and she offered him a grateful smile.
"If you were hit by a few stunners how are you awake at all?" He stood, reaching out a hand to her, and as she took it she could see that he had changed his clothing- he was still dressed in his usual way, but his clothes were undamaged and looked freshly pressed.
She opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the floo reigniting and McGonagall's face reappearing. "Severus? Hermione?"
"We're here," answered Snape brusquely as he stepped forward. Hermione followed behind him.
"I have Kingsley here in my office. Would you two please come through?"
"Of course, Minerva." Snape turned and beckoned Hermione forward. "I'm sending Miss Granger through first."
She stepped next to him as McGonagall's head disappeared, taking a pinch of the offered floo powder. "So it's 'Miss Granger' again, is it?" she asked him slyly.
She could swear she saw his eyes roll as she stepped in the fireplace and spun away.
A/N: I thought it was high time for a bit more action. I hope it was as fun to read as it was to write! Please let me know what your thoughts are in a lovely review and I'll try to have the next chapter up within the next few days.
