Thank you everyone that reviewed! They were awesome to read! And holy crap! I'm almost at 300, which is bananas!
I've gone posted more deleted scenes if you wanted to check them out. They're under the 'What's in a Name' story now, which I think is where I'll just put all my deleted scenes. Cuz I got a few. So check em out and let me know what you think!
And big thanks to my betas Emilia Wolfe and McGonagall's Bola!
Enjoy!
Last time:
His conscious self, shimmering with the bright and dark colors of his emotions and thoughts, stood inside the cave. His hand ran over a long pod of ice that sat in the very center of the damp cavern. It was a perfect sphere of ice, unnaturally round and clear like an oversized glass bead. The door at the top of the pod was already open and waiting for him.
Stepping inside before he could change his mind, he settled down in the hollowed out space, and closed himself in. As the door sealed shut, the ice from the shell spread over him in a cold blanket. The world around him dimmed, color leeching out until he was seeing in only various shades of grey, definition was lost as everything became dull and flat. Eventually his world froze over.
Chapter 28
"How are you feeling today?"
"Fine."
"How have the headaches been?"
"Fine."
"And the repairs to your mental shields?"
"Fine."
Poppy put down her quill and clipboard, and rubbed at her eyes tiredly. She watched Severus twitching in his seat, his arms crossed and slouched over like a child about to be sent to his room. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. The Potions Professor was a terrible patient on a normal day, prone to ignoring her orders and declaring himself fit far before she gave the go ahead, but in his current condition he was an absolute nightmare. That he would be difficult and uncooperative during their nightly check ups, was a given.
It had been eight long days since Severus had returned to them in that dreadful state, but he was already walking around as if none of it had even happened. Likely, he was just hoping hat she would forget the whole incident too and that would never happen. Every time the spy came back to them, broken and bleeding, was another memory etched into her mind forever. Especially this last time.
Those first few days had been agony watching over him. She could still clearly picture him in the back room. Curled up on the bed in the dark, rocking himself gently with his hands gripping his head and muttering to himself. His pained cries had intermingled with frantic sobs and manic laughter at odd intervals, as his emotions all warred for dominance at once. The cacophony of sounds had been not unlike what she had witnessed during her internship in the Janus Thickey Ward and she had feared for the poor boy's future.
She had been tempted, so very tempted to send him St. Mungo's, then and there, where he could be treated more efficiently, but Albus had stayed her hand, reassuring her that Severus would be alright.
So she sat on her heels, and waited and watched over Severus as he struggled against his own mind, her heart breaking with ever whimper and cry. However, by the third day, she could see it. The old Severus emerging slowly. The glazed look in his eye fading, the crazed mutters ceasing, the trembling calming. On the fifth morning when he had made some sarcastic quip about his breakfast, she had nearly hugged him in relief. That relief and affection was still there, even now when Severus was being an unbelievable thorn in her side, in need of a healthy wallop to the head.
"I'm going to need more than just 'fine' Severus. I know that these check ups aren't your favorite thing, but if you want me to give Albus the O.K., you'll need to show a little more effort."
Severus glared at her, his mouth pulling down in a disgusted frown. "And what would I be getting an O.K. for? Exams are over and the little brats are leaving tomorrow."
"The 'O.K.' has nothing to do with the children, it has to do with whether or not you'll be given leave to go back to your rooms or leave the castle."
Severus sat up, his eyes wide. "You can't make me stay. The school year is over! You're under no obligation to treat me anymore."
Poppy glowered at her over the rim of her reading glasses. "My obligation is to see to your health. I care about you Severus, the school protocol is not my priority. If I believe you will heal faster here at the castle, then I'll have no qualms with body binding you to a bed myself," she told him, her tone leaving no room for doubt.
Severus deflated, avoiding her gaze. A stray tear peeked out of the corner of his eye and he quickly wiped at it in frustration.
Patient is still having trouble controlling his emotions, she jotted down in her notes. "Now that that has been addressed. Are you ready to begin?"
Severus noddeded silently, his cheeks reddening, reminding Poppy of the awkward first year that had sat in her office the first week of school, a bruise on the side of his face, and his head turned away to hide his embarrassed tears.
"We'll start with your memory."
He grunted in reply.
"What did you have for breakfast this morning?" She picked her quill back up, ready to take notes.
"A bowl of unrecognizable sludge that was as tasteless as it was visual unappealing. I'm assuming that it was procured from the bottom of the Black Lake," he grumbled.
"Severus." Her tone a crisp warning. "I will be more than happy to get you more of that sludge tomorrow morning as well."
He huffed indignantly, but still corrected his answer. "I had a bowl of oatmeal."
Satisfied, she nodded, checking off his answer on the exam sheet. "And for lunch?"
"Buttered toast and tea."
Another check. "And for dinner?"
"A bowl of chicken broth and bread."
She checked off the final box, ignoring the muttered, "dish water," said under Severus' breath.
"And what was the picture I had shown you at last night's check up?"
There was no answer. She looked up to see Severus peering out of the window, the fingers of his right hand drumming rapidly on the arm of his chair.
Patient is still easily distracted, she wrote down, before leaning forward to gently place her hand on his, stilling his movements.
He flinched, snatching his hand back. "What?!" he practically growled at her.
Far from impressed she merely raised her brow at him. "I asked you a question. What was the picture I had shown you last night?"
"A painting of the Goblin Wars, and the Battle of Red Hill."
"Good. And the one from the night before that?"
"A muggle portrait of a girl at the beach."
"And the one before that?"
"A lake house." He bounced his leg, slouching forward in his chair. His eyes darted around the room, as if he were looking for an escape. "Are we done yet?"
Level of impatience is still abnormal, and patient is still highly paranoid, though no longer trying to escape from the room, so a marked improvement in that area.
"I just need to do a quick physical and then your free to go." She gathered up her wand, motioning for him to come sit on the medical bed.
She was quick about the examination, more than aware that in his current condition, Severus was liable to hex her and flee if she took too long. When she was done, she quickly wrote down the results she had gleaned from the diagnoses.
"Brain activity is good, eye sight has returned to normal, the muscles within the ear canal are perfectly healed, ribs have been repaired, scarring on the left leg has been minimized and your nerves seem to be functioning properly again," Poppy told him with a smile. "We'll need to keep on eye on those headaches though and the repairs to your mental guard. You said that they were nearly complete last session, yes?"
Severus hummed distractedly as he looked intensely at the door. His leg once again bouncing as if he were getting ready to take off at any moment. Rolling her eyes at sight, Poppy closed his folder. "Alright, I think we're done—"
Severus shot up, his hand outstretched and ready to grab the doorknob.
"Wait!" She said halting the jittery man. She grabbed two vials and hurried over to his side before he could disappear on her. "Take these before you go. The first vial is a pain reliever for your headache. I want you to take three drops when you wake up and three at night." He took the first one, dropping it into his pocket and Poppy pointed to the second one. "And this is a Calming Draught. It should help you balance out your emotions."
He stiffened, eyeing the potion with distaste. "I do not need help with controlling my emotions," he hissed like a puffed up cat. "I am perfectly in control of my own body!"
Here we go. Poppy shoved the potion at him firmly. "Who is the Mediwitch here?! If I say you need to take some Calming Draught, then you damn well better take it mister! You've been all over the place lately."
"I have not!" he argued back childishly.
"You made poor Mr. Binkley cry!"
"The snot-nosed urchin deserved it! He made fun of my robes!" Severus crossed his arms with a pout.
"He's a child! Children do those kinds of things occasionally. Do I need to remind you that you were the adult in that situation?"
"Exactly. I was the adult and his superior. He should have given me respect!"
"You weren't even supposed to be out of your rooms," Poppy reminded him sternly.
"I was hungry and I didn't want to eat anymore slop," he said defensively.
"Oh, for the love of—" she paused to collect herself before resuming in a calmer tone. "Severus, just trust me when I say you need to take the Calming Draught. I'm just concerned for you, you know that."
He sneered at her, gathering his robes around himself protectively, that crazed look in his eye returning. "Concerned for me? Or them? That the vicious Dungeon Bat will break all your precious little angels with his biting tongue?" His eyes narrowed at her with mistrust and hurt.
"Severus," she began a hand already reaching for him to console.
He jerked away from her, opening the door and stepping out. "Save your empty platitudes. I neither want nor need them." The door slammed shut behind him.
Heaving a sigh, Poppy went back to her desk and dropped in her chair. "Well that went splendidly," she said to the empty room. "Jogger!"
A House Elf appeared in front of her, bowing. She held out the vial of Calming Draught to him. "Jogger, can you please bring this potion to Professor Snape's room? Put it right by his bed, if you please."
The Elf bowed again. "Of course, Madam Pomfrey. Jogger will make sure the Potions Master gets it."
When the little Elf popped away, Poppy pulled the folder back to her and opened up to her last page of notes. She dipped her quill in some fresh ink and wrote down, Patient's emotional stability still compromised. It may take some time before he is back to his usual level of control. However, his being a hard-headed mule, is NOT helping.
She shut the folder shut with a dainty sniff.
Severus stormed down the Hallway, his mind a chaotic disarray of anger, betrayal, grief and more anger. Even as he knew in the back of his mind that Poppy was one of the very few people in this castle who was always honest with him and whose concern for him was genuine. Still he couldn't help feeling so damn angry and…he couldn't even find the word for it.
Whirling around, he struck out his fist, the flesh of his knuckles connecting with the metal rim of a window in a satisfying way. He felt a small trickle of blood slide down his hand from the torn skin, and a pulsing pain that suggested he might have fractured a knuckle bone or two.
Poppy was going to kill him. Probably, maybe. If decided to tell her. He might not now, not if she was only going to shove more potions down his throat. She probably didn't even care what she was putting in his system anymore. He could see the exasperation in her face, the way her face scrunched up in pity and displeasure when he came for his check up.
She's just like the rest of them. Smiling in your face and breathing contempt behind your back.
No, no. Not right. Poppy is one of the few people I can actually stand in this Hell hole.
But do you really know her?
Yes.
…Maybe?
No, she cares. She took care of me when I was in school. Even when Albus didn't. Got to remember that. I can trust Poppy. I can trust her.
He leaned his head against the glass of the window, banging it against the cool surface softly, trying to rid the nagging thoughts from his mind. Maybe he should have taken that Calming Draught with him.
NO! I don't need it. I'm stronger than this. I can't let the Dark Lord win.
He opened his eyes to look out at the Black Lake, the rippling water glittering underneath the moonlight. He stilled, when he saw a dark blob…a person? walking down the beach. He couldn't make out much except that he was almost positive the person was wearing student robes. Which meant—
A student was wondering outside after curfew.
The corners of his mouth rose cruelly, and in the next instant he was gone, running down to the halls and towards the south entrance by the lake, his grin feral and predatory.
Hermione walked along the Black Lake, her foot kicking at the odd pebble or two.
It had been a good decision to come out here tonight instead of heading to the library. As much as she loved being surrounded by her books tonight was the kind of night that was too perfect to stay cooped up inside. She remembered when she was younger, how her father would come knocking on her door on nights like this, tent poles and canvas in hand, urging her outside. They would spend hours out in their little backyard, hovering over their homemade telescope. Her father would point out different constellations and her mom would roast up some marshmallows for them to snack on after.
Her father would have loved this; the warm summer air, the fresh breeze, the gentle sounds of water lapping against the shore and buzzing insects. It was peaceful, lovely and perfect. But more importantly, it was a drastic change from the pandemonium occurring in the Gryffindor tower at the moment.
The havoc was to be expected, she supposed. It was the last night of the school year, and the train would be arriving in the morning to whisk them all away for the summer, so the tower had become hive of high-energy activity. The last minute procrastinators scrambling around in the dorm rooms, frantically trying to gather up all of their things, while the rest of the House had been downstairs in the common room, celebrating the completion of their finals and NEWTs.
Someone, she believed it was Dean, had enlarged their Wizarding radio, enhancing the sound with an Amplifying Charm. Then Vince Harlow had brought out his stash of Weasley joke products, setting them off with cackling glee. Soon after, a chest of alcohol had been dumped infront of the Fireplace (though how it was smuggled into the school was still a mystery) and then things had quickly devolved from there.
It wasn't long after that that Hermione had decided she had had her fill of drunk teenagers and blaring music for the night. So she had snuck out, narrowly avoiding her friends before they could stop her and cajole her to stay. As much as she loved her friends, she wouldn't put up with that ruckus even for them.
Up ahead, she spotted a large boulder with a flat top that would make an adequate seat. She easily shimmied up the hard surface easily, and after squirming around, testing her new perch for the most comfortable spot, she laid down on her back. Her arms stretched behind her hands and her legs swinging down the side. She stared up at the clear night sky and took in a deep breath of the crisp, cool air.
This, this is what she had been looking for. Peace and quiet and precious solitude.
Tomorrow, summer vacation would officially start and her "break" would end. It was back to the grind for her, trying to crack Fera's Reservoir Stone, and studying for her NEWTs—well she had already been doing the studying bit, so that wasn't the stressful part. It was trying to balance it all and whatever new recruit tasks Tonks had been telling her about, along with it. She was excited, but nervous as well. What if she couldn't keep up with them? What if their trust was misplaced? What if she wasn't as reliable or smart as she thought she was and couldn't get the job done?
What if, what if, what if…There were so many uncertainties and so little time to tackle them all. But she would give it her best! She had promised Fera after all, and she didn't want to let her mentor down!
You can do this! she encouraged herself, mentally steeling herself against any further negative thoughts. She would be fine. Her professors already said she was doing well in her studies for NEWTs. The practice exams and the extra study sessions they offered her were great and once she got Snape on board to help her with Fera's research she would be fine.
As if he had been summoned by her thoughts, the man in question came barreling down the beach, his robes whipping angrily behind him. Well speak of the devil, and he shall appear. She opened her mouth to greet him when his voice snapped out.
"What are you doing out of bed!" Snape barked, menacingly. His steps faltered once he caught sight of her and his face scrunched up in distaste, as he practically spat out accusingly, "Granger!"
She blinked against the harsh tone, wondering what on Earth she could have done to make him so mad at her. She scrambled down the boulder eyeing him nervously as he approached.
"Good evening, Professor. Are you feeling better?"
He ignored her. "Do you know what time it is?"
Well, if you can be that rude, you must be feeling better, she thought, mentally rolling her eyes. At least he was back on his feet, so there was that. Aloud, she said, "Um, 10:30, I guess."
"It's 10:48 at night," he informed her briskly. "Students aren't allowed outside the castle after 10."
What? "But, I'm not a student anymore. I'm exempt," she reminded him, confused. Had he forgotten already?
Her words were like a spark to gunpowder, setting off Snape's temper instantly. "Well, that makes it okay then, doesn't it!" he bellowed, and Hermione had to take a step back from the force of his anger. "The Dark Lord is only more determined than ever to capture you, but it doesn't matter! You're exempt. So why shouldn't you wander around without a care in the world?"
Yes, she knew about the present situation. Professor Dumbledore had taken her aside and explained how Voldemort had somehow seen through their ruse. The Headmaster was still trying to figure out how. It was something she was determined to figure out as well, but right now she was more focused on the trouble brewing in front of her with Snape.
There was an odd glint in his eyes that Hermione hadn't noticed before, a glint that spoke of something unstable and savage. A weird feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong with the professor, something she couldn't quite place, but the situation suddenly felt very dangerous.
"Um, I understand your concerns, but Voldemort can't get onto school grounds. I'm perfectly safe here," she tried to calmly explain it to him, her hands out in a placating gesture, as if she were trying to ward off a dangerous animal.
"SAFE?!" he shouted back, incredulously. "Has that thick mane finally clogged up your brain or are you truly that witless? When the Dark Lord is after you, there is no 'safe' place!"
"I can protect myself," she gritted out.
Snape stared at her blankly, his eyes locked on her face as if he were remembering something far away. He shook his head abruptly, muttering to himself too low for her to hear and then—he laughed? It was an honest to God, full bellied laugh. She looked on, shocked to her very core, even as a small part of her brain registered that he was most definitely laughing at her and not with her.
He smiled at her, an almost pleasant expression if not for the vein of derision lurking underneath it. "You can protect yourself? Ha! If the Dark Lord truly came after you, Granger, you would be dead before you could lift up your wand."
Why? Because she was a Muggle-born? A girl? A bookworm who spent more time surrounded by old tomes than people? Her body practically vibrated with anger now. She wanted to scream, to shake him until he understood that she wasn't some weak damsel in distress. She wasn't as good a fighter as Harry, she knew that. She also knew that her offensive spells could use some work, but she was a Gryffindor too, dammit! She was a fighter! She wasn't weak and she wasn't useless!
"I might not be the best fighter," she relented and wanted to smack the grin off his face when it grew with the admission. "BUT, I'm not an easy target. I can and will fight!"
He stared at her plainly, his grin dimming down. His dark eyes studied her with a quiet intensity, as if he were delving into the layered depths of her body and down to the core of her soul. It was the thousand yard stare of a master Legilimens, perfected and sharpened like a blade in his gaze. Hermione subtly checked her mental shields, gratified when they seemed to be undisturbed and in perfect order.
After a moment, he finally nodded and then with a serious tone he said, "Very well. Let's see you fight then." Then with a snap of his fingers he was gone.
She spun around on the now deserted shore, disbelief making her heart race. A thought that Snape had been serious had entered her mind but she shot that absurd notion down quickly. This was her professor, she had been his student. They warred with one another, she made brash statements, he did his aggressive looming thing, but that was as far as it ever went. There was always a line, an inborn knowledge that their verbal sparring was the summit of their aggression, the peak with which they knew to never exceed.
A stunner flashed to her right and Hermione had just enough time to leap out of the way before the spell could knock her out in one fell swoop. She landed hard on her hip, the jagged edge of a rock below her digging into the flesh there. A stray thought, that a nasty bruise awaited her in the morning, was all she had time to think of before the spells began flying again.
What the hell?! He can't be doing this for real!
But it seemed liked he could and would be doing this, and if she had any desire to make it out of this is one piece, she would have to fight back. Her feet dug into the sand, tripping over themselves, as she raced for the cover of the boulder. Snape still had yet to be seen, or heard, but that was fine. It was okay. It's OKAY, she told herself, because she could disappear too, and then they'd be on level playing fields.
"Gravittum Nubulam," she whispered, drawing sharp circles in the air. A dense rope of fog spilled from the tip of her wand, rapidly engulfing her and the surrounding area. Once she was sufficiently covered she started moving carefully along the side of the boulder, mindful that the fog would only protect for so long. One strong gust of wind and she would be exposed again, fighting off an invisible opponent. She would have to make use of the precious few seconds she had left. She had a plan but there was only a fifty-fifty chance that it would actually work.
Quickly she disillusioned herself, and began drawing water from the lake in a thin stream, redirecting it to the sand around her, coating the ground in a barely there layer of moisture. Not enough to raise any alarms, mind you, but just enough. She flattened herself against the boulder, and tried to calm her heart beat as she waited.
Just as she knew it would, a roaring gale of wind came whipping around her, dismantling her barrier of fog. Snape stood in the very center of the storm, casually glancing around, his wand placidly laying by his side.
Springing into action before he could get the upper hand again, Hermione froze the puddle of water under him, imprisoning his feet in an icy cage. Not stopping, she threw a Body Bind at him, magically trapping his arms as well. He looked up startled, the last thing he saw was Hermione's smug grin, before she threw a stunner at him. His body crumpled to the ground, marking his defeat.
Victory was sweet indeed.
"Take that!" she whooped, throwing up her arms triumphantly. Ha! Now who can't lift up their wand!
"You shouldn't celebrate so early," came Snape's voice to her left. Her head jerked around, staring at the now conscious and clearly not trapped man standing before her.
"But, how did you…" she looked back to where he was supposed to be laying on the ground and she saw nothing but a puddle and wet sand. She pointed to the spot in disbelief, then back to the wizard in question. "How did you do that? I got—"
"An illusion," Snape supplied, grinning maliciously at her. "You Gryffindors make it too easy." Like a cobra striking, his arm snapped up and he threw the Lumos Solem Charm at her faster than she could hope to block it. She stumbled back, the beam of bright light rendering her as useless as a newborn fawn. She clutched at her stinging, watering eyes, as she tried to retreat, but a misstep sent her falling to ground before she could get far.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
She could hear the sound of sand crunching under Snape's boots as he approached. Fumbling with her wand, she blindly cast a Protego Charm, hoping that it would give her enough time to recoup so she could find an escape. She struggled back to her feet, gripping her wand wildly in front of her.
"Desperation does not suit you, Granger."
She felt the first hex rattle against her shield and she winced at the strength behind it. She pored a bit more magic into her shield, but it proved to mean little against the onslaught of Snape's attack. Spell after spell, he threw, chipping away at her shield with a methodical patience. She felt herself tiring, her magic slipping up, flowing out at a sluggish pace. Sweat gathered on her brow. Eventually, she couldn't hold on any longer and her shield shattered.
Out of breath, and energy, Hermione stumbled forward, blinking away the sun spots still lingering in her eyesight. When her vision cleared, she realized that Snape was gone, yet again. The relief that brought lasted but a moment, before she felt a presence materialize behind her and the tip of a wand against her throat.
Snape leaned down, his breath tickling her ear, as he whispered, "Too easy." His wand pushed in a bit further, not enough to hurt her, but enough to send a message, a dark promise of eminent pain.
There was a moment of panic, in which every cell of her body became entirely aware of the danger it was in, of the deadly predator poised at her back ready to sink it's teeth into the vulnerable flesh of her neck, but that moment was brief, fueled by adrenaline and fear. As her heartbeat calmed down, rationality returned to her and she remembered that it was her professor, who had risked his life to save her on more than one occasion, at her back and not an enemy.
With more bravado than confidence, she raised her chin. "You won't do it."
He chuckled softly. "You would be foolish to put your trust in a Death Eater."
"EX."
"What?" Snape frowned down at her.
"You're an Ex-Death Eater, not a real one. You're a spy now. There's a difference," she clarified, with the same brisk tones she would (and had) used on Ron and Harry whenever they started grumbling about the Potion Master's true allegiance.
This time the laugh was bitter. "Was. Am. It is all the same thing."
"No it's not," she persisted, "A Death Eater—a real one, wouldn't hesitate to kill a Mud-blood like me."
"Don't say that word!" he snarled out, startling her.
"Why not? It's just a word," she argued, "just like Voldemort is just a name. Even If I'm a Mud—"
The wand dug deeper into her neck. "Don't," he repeated, his tongue clicking on the T.
She licked her lips nervously and corrected herself, having no desire to push him too far. "Even if I'm a Muggle-born. I'm proud to be one. There isn't anything a Pure-blood can do that I can't, and I won't let a bunch of bigoted fools convince me otherwise."
"Convince you otherwise?" He scoffed. "Clearly you do not know whom you are dealing with."
"I know exactly what kind of people I'm dealing with. If you'll remember, I've fought them before and lived."
"You lived because the Order had arrived just in time to save your collective hides. In a real fight, you would have been as helpless as you are now. Trapped and unable to even fight back," he spat at her tauntingly.
There was that word again. Helpless. It burned her pride, especially now in the face of her defeat, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth that she couldn't swallow. She bit her lip as renewed anger kindled back to life, racing up her spine like a shock of electricity. Without thought, the remainder of her magic pooled together, bursting out of her on a wave that dislodged her from Snape's arms and knocked them both to the ground. Her head slammed into the ground as she landed and she groaned at the dull pain thumping in the back of her skull.
Well, that was stupid of me, she thought in a brief moment of clarity.
She turned on her side, coughing when that seemed to make breathing even more difficult. Her lungs burned as she tried to push more air into them, taking in ragged gulps that would force the organs to expand and contract as they were meant to. Still a little wheezy, but better now, she strained to sit up on the ground, but her arms quickly gave out, and she landed back down with an 'oof'.
Okay, I guess I'll be staying on the ground then. Not the most ideal place to sleep but at least it has a view…
"That," Snape groused, pushing himself up off the ground. His robes were hanging off his shoulder, the collar of his white shirt askew and his hair hung low in his face, barely concealing the pair of angry glittering eyes watching her keenly "—was an incredibly stupid thing to do," he finished on his next breath.
She hummed in agreement, having already come to that conclusion. Truly, extraordinarily stupid indeed. A giggle escaped her when she noticed that her mental voice had sounded just like her professor, making this entire situation even more absurd, which of course just made her giggle harder. Absently she noted that all this giggling could be a sign of head trauma and that she might need medical attention now.
A shadow fell over her and she looked up to see Snape standing over her. He frowned in—worry? Anger? She couldn't tell which anymore, though the weird, dangerous look in his eyes had faded away. That was good. Her old professor was back. She closed her eyes sleepily, happy things had gone back to normal, or as normal as things got between them.
"Get up Granger, you need to go to the infirmary," he said. She heard him moving around, but stayed, unconcerned with whatever he was doing, her mind already on the wonderful nap she was about to have.
Someone shook her arm, jolting her awake. She blearily opened her eyes to find Snape kneeling in front of her, holding her up by her arms. "Don't fall asleep yet Granger," he demanded.
"But I'm sleepy," she murmured leaning in so she could burrow her face in his warm robes, his scent covering her face pleasantly. "S' soft." She clutched at his robes like she would a blanket.
A pair of hands pushed at her shoulder, trying to separate her from her soft blanket and she grumbled displeased. She clutched harder, wrapping her hands in the material for a better hold. There was an aggravated sigh above her and the hands finally stopped their shoving.
"You wouldn't be sleepy if you hadn't tried such an asinine move," he told her. "You might have freed yourself, but you expended too much energy and left yourself vulnerable to attack."
Hermione shook her head. That wasn't right. Her professor wouldn't have hurt her, she knew it, just as she knew gravity would keep her grounded on Earth, and that the Sun rose in the east every morning. "But you wouldn't. You're not…you're not like them. You won't hurt me."
He stiffened under her. "You know nothing about me!" His grip on her arms tightened, but not too painfully.
He had a point. Aside from what she had seen in class and their interactions as teacher and student, she didn't really know the man in front of her. She knew her professor, but she didn't actually know Severus Snape.
But I'd like to, she suddenly realized. Not in the capacity of getting to know a possible lab partner (though that was important to her), she also wanted to get to know the man who risked his life for the Order, who was constantly saving her life and who, in his unguarded moments, had a wicked sense of humor.
But what was the likelihood of Snape actually letting her get close enough for her to extend the hand of friendship? Sure they were both adults now, and no longer constrained by old roles of teacher and student. Technically speaking they were equals…sort of. At least to her they were. There was no saying whether Snape saw their situation the same way.
Probably not…
"You're right," she conceded for now, all of this thinking was making her head spin, "I don't know you. Not really…But, still. I trust you."
Snape looked down at her, visibly stunned.
"We should…" She struggled to get up, but the sudden movement went straight to her head, magnifying the pain. She slumped back down, blinking against the black dots invading her vision now. Exhaustion weighed down on her muscles, tugging at her mind as well. She wasn't going to make it to the infirmary on her own.
Damn. Well no time like the present to test your theory, eh Hermione? She looked up, tracing the pale blurred lines of his face as she smiled sheepishly. "It's good that I know you can be trusted, because I'm about to pass out and I would appreciate you not dropping me."
Years of honing his reflexes made snatching the witch's limp body up before she could tumble to the ground easy. He shifted her dead weight in his arms and looked around, waiting for this weird dream to be over.
I trust you.
He peered down at the young woman's face, confused and…pleased almost. Even in her delirium she had meant that statement. Her honesty and sincerity staring back at him plainly, as if it were the most simple thing in the world to have faith in a Death Eater—Ex Death Eater, his mind quickly corrected him in her voice.
What an odd creature.
Suddenly remembering that the witch was injured and that he had just been staring down at her for God knows how long, he shook himself. With his wand, he quickly ran a Diagnostic Charm on her, satisfied when it showed Granger had incurred only minimal damage. A simple knot on the back of her head, easily cured with a Healing Charm and magical depletion, which could be explained away given her late-night study habits.
He was relieved. Not because he cared about the witch's well being—he didn't, but because he wouldn't have to explain to Poppy or Albus that he had pretty much attacked the young woman for no reason. Damn he had fucked up tonight. Why hadn't he listened to Poppy and taken the Calming Draught?
He scooped Granger up, resting her more securely in his arms and made his way back into the castle. He kept his head up, face forward, refusing to glance down at the tiny witch resting in his arms again, his instincts warning him that it would just lead him to trouble. What kind of trouble, he was unsure, and he had no desire to delve any deeper into it, because something told him he wouldn't like what he found out. Not at all.
So for once, he listened to himself, eyes glued to the hall in front of him, even when the witch let out small whimpers when she was jostled too hard. He gritted his teeth against the sound.
When he finally made it into the Infirmary, he rushed past Poppy's sputtering protests and practically dropped Granger on the nearest bed. The story he gave Poppy was the one he thought up at the lake; he had found her in the library knocked out and magically depleted, the result of studying too much, he guessed. Poppy had only been slightly suspicious.
He could only hope that Granger would stick to his script, but even if she didn't, he wasn't going to be around to find out. He didn't care what Poppy said about rest and recovery, he was escaping first thing in the morning. Somewhere far away, where he could finally put his head back on right, and castigate himself for his massive stupidity in private.
A/N: I'll be honest, that wasn't really the way I planned for them to bump into each other. the fight happening kind of came out of no where, but hope you still liked it. More to come soon.
Ta ta for now~