Well, it's a rather domestic chapter ahead. I had some giant stuff in there, but for some reason, it really wasn't working for me. Kyra, I'll give it to you for the next chapter to use as you see fit.
Sorry, sorry, sorry about the wait. Wanna know why? Check out my alex25 profile.
"Why is Crookshanks licking himself there?"
Snape groaned. It was about the hundredth question he'd been asked since waking up that morning. "Because," he answered gruffly, "he has to stay clean and doesn't have a washcloth."
Elizabeth smiled down at Crookshanks, who was lolling about just outside the cave, enjoying the late-afternoon sun. Then she scooted her little tree stump closer to Snape. "What's that you're adding?"
"Fluxweed, from the store I visited before you came." Snape had taken a leaf out of Mundungus Fletcher's book and begun hunting rabbits. He'd nearly perfected the tough, sinewy creatures, though he thoroughly missed Hogwarts fare.
"Mmm…fluxweed. I love fluxweed," Elizabeth said, smacking her lips and smiling up at him. Snape knew Elizabeth had no idea what fluxweed was, but the little ankle-biter seemed determined to make herself agreeable.
"It's easy to find in forests like these. Once we run out, I'll teach you to gather it." Snape turned the spittle over to roast the other side of the rabbit. "I'll also teach you how to skin a rabbit."
"Euw! No!" Elizabeth laughed and scooted her trunk just a bit closer. She stared into the fire, her small face growing solemn. "Will Hermione really be okay?"
Snape looked back at Hermione, who was laid out along the far wall of the cave, still as death. "Yes," he said firmly. But Snape wasn't sure. Hermione was alive. There was a moment, two days earlier, right after she'd lost consciousness, when he thought she was gone, but then she'd had some sort of seizure, and her heartbeat had continued, faintly, and remained ever since. The problem wasn't whether or not she would live, but whether there would be any complications.
She hadn't woken up once, not during the trip to the cave, not in response to his attempts at revival, and that was beginning to worry Snape. Actually, he'd been worried – shocked, astonished, flummoxed, and amazed – since the very moment she'd appeared at his feet, on all fours and topless.
XOXOX
"Damn it, witch, what was it? A fire, a Nundu, what?"
It was one of the most bewildering moments of Snape's life, made worse by the fact that he didn't know what to deal with first; the cat and the little girl were both unconscious, but Hermione, despite being awake, seemed far worse off than the other two. There was blood smeared across her face and she looked and sounded as if she were about to cough her lungs up. "MISS GRANGER," Snape said loudly, trying to speak over her awful coughing.
She didn't seem to hear him. She was mouthing something between bouts of violent hacking. Snape studied her flushed, tear-stained face as he lay her back down again. Harry. That's what she was saying, of course. Or it was what she would be saying if she weren't struggling desperately to breathe. Her eyes were wide and lolling, and she was clutching weakly at him.
"Miss Granger, control your coughing for a moment and listen to me! I can't HELP YOU unless you TELL ME WHAT CAUSED THIS," Snape yelled at her. She didn't answer. She just kept coughing. "Sweet Merlin, this is the ONE time it actually matters that you answer, you daft witch." Still, all she did was cough. It sounded as if she were trying to exorcise her throat of a year's buildup of mucus.
Her face suddenly turned a waxy white and she slumped limply against the ground. Snape pushed her hair out of the way. Her eyes were rolling slowly to the back of her head. She twitched sharply, just once at first, then more tremors followed. He didn't know what to do; was this in reaction to poison, smoke inhalation, or some kind of curse? The shudders died down fairly quickly, and Snape felt for her pulse.
There was nothing. He became suddenly aware of cold sweat on his forehead, and the harsh chilly edge in the breeze. He hadn't seen Hermione Granger since a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, a little before his flight from Hogwarts.
"Shit," Snape said desperately. He turned to the others for some sort of explanation. The little girl was flushed, and Snape could see her chest expanding very weakly with shallow breaths. There was a damp rag askew around her neck, on the cat likewise. It would be like Hermione Granger to ignore her own safety for the sake of a fat, ugly cat.
Snape trained his wand on the girl. "Ennervate." With a spasm, she awoke. Just like Hermione, she began coughing frantically. "Stop it, girl," Snape said in his most commanding voice, and perhaps because she was better off than Hermione, she actually seemed able to hear him. For a moment, she stared up at him in wide-eyed astonishment. Snape seized her head and jaw, pulled them apart without trouble, and then looked into her mouth.
He was surprised, and a little impressed, when she said "ahh," moving her tongue out of the way and giving him a clear view of a thoroughly enflamed throat, but the action set off another coughing fit.
"Hold still," Snape said, pulling her up to a sitting position and pushing her hands away from her throat. She coughed at him, her little blonde eyebrows furrowed in irritation, while he took careful aim with his wand. "Mucuwasi." A thick, impossibly large quantity of yellowish mucus soared from her throat and landed in the dirt.
Thankfully, her coughs took on a different timbre. They were dry and hoarse. She was coughing from the inflamation now, not trying to get rid of an obstruction.
Snape went immediately back to Hermione. He prized her jaw open and repeated the same procedure. Then, hoping for the best, he tried to revive her. She did not wake up, not even with multiple attempts. But when he checked her pulse, it was there, if faint. She was breathing now, too. That seemed all the reviving spell could do for her.
Snape felt a little hand at his sleeve. "You've gotta help Crookshanks too!" the little girl cried.
XOXOX
So he'd saved the cat, saved the girl, and managed to keep Hermione alive, but Snape was ever aware of the fact that the longer Hermione remained unconscious, the more likely it was for her to remain so. He'd run diagnostic spells and forced potions down her throat, but he was no Healer, and whatever had caused this reaction – giants' gas, as Elizabeth unblinkingly called it – was an unfamiliar substance. It had left a thin, but determinedly sticky yellowy residue on Elizabeth and Crookshank's skin. Simple (and complex) cleaning spells hadn't helped. He ended up brewing large quantities of a scouring potion to cleanse them of it, for it had begun to irritate their skin.
It had been no fun getting that damned cat clean. Crookshanks had hardly gone near Snape since.
It had been infinitely less fun cleaning Hermione, but Snape tried not to think about that. He'd had to send Elizabeth off with a damp, scowling Crookshanks to gather knotgrass while he sorted that whole situation out.
His life had certainly changed since Hermione'd appeared. Even though it had really been a short time since the giant invasion, Snape felt as if he'd been living alone for years. Elizabeth was persistent company, always asking him where was Zachy, and when would Hermione wake up, and what was he doing, and why he was making that face, and why was his hair so shiny.
And Crookshanks had a strangely imposing presence for a cat. He would stare at Snape while Elizabeth asked these uncomfortable questions, amusedly, it seemed. Sometimes the cat would go in and curl up forlornly at Hermione's side, as if Snape could be any more acutely aware of the precarious position she was in.
But as full of responsibility and worry as his life had suddenly become, the giants were still continuing with whatever it was they were doing. Snape had become aware of a change within the last day or two. There were more of them; many more. And they were a different sort, too, but he couldn't put his finger on what was happening, and he had to find out.
When the rabbit was finished to golden-brown perfection, he pulled it off the spittle, burning his fingers a bit, and placed it on the transfigured plate Elizabeth was holding out. It looked small. There never was enough rabbit, but engorging it ruined the texture completely. Elizabeth looked at it in eager anticipation, licking her lips greedily. She looked up at Snape when she realized he wasn't moving to carve off her piece. "What's wrong?"
"Elizabeth, you go ahead and finish that. I've got to run an errand."
"Can I go?" It was always the first thing she asked, even though two days experience had already taught her what the answer would be.
"No, I'm sorry." Snape did not want to leave her there, but the truth was it was more dangerous where he was headed.
Elizabeth, not completely unexpectedly, burst into tears. Snape sighed. She was one of the most sensitive children he'd ever dealt with.
"Stop crying," he commanded.
"I c-can't," she sobbed, her voice hitching unsteadily.
"You must. I need you to stay here with Hermione while I take care of something."
"Stay here by myself?"
"Yes," Snape said. "Just as you did yesterday, and earlier this morning."
"But I'm five!" Snape could have sworn under his breath, but for the risk of her demanding to know what he'd said and what it meant. For such a whinging little thing, she had an uncanny ability for finding his weak spots; it worried him sick to leave a five-year-old in charge of camp, but it had to be. The giants were expanding their camps, and Snape needed to make sure that the cave was in no danger of discovery.
"And you can use Hermione's wand if there's trouble. Your stunning spell is strong enough to protect you from most attackers. I will not be gone long."
"Take me with you," she pleaded.
"No. It's dangerous."
"Then don't go."
"I have to go," Snape said firmly, "but just for an hour or so. There's nothing to be worried about." He then strode several feet away from the fire and disapparated, promising to be back as soon as he could.
XOXOX
When he arrived back near the cave, Elizabeth came running toward him, her face screwed up tight. Snape experienced a sharp pang of fear at the sense that something had gone terribly wrong. "What is it?"
"Hermione!" Elizabeth said wildly, skidding into him and at once throwing her arms around his middle. "She was moving!"
"Well?" Snape pressed. "Did she wake?"
Elizabeth looked up at him. "No!" Tears started to form in her eyes. "She wouldn't wake up when I talked to her."
"Just," Snape unwrapped the little girl's arms from around him, "stay here," he said distractedly. He hurried the rest of the way up to the cave.
Snape crouched next to Hermione. He lit his wand and held it over her face. Although there was still some daylight, the cave was dark and allowed in little light. He passed the wand over her body quickly to see whether anything had changed. He settled the light back near her face. She looked pale under the glaring wandlight, and her eyelashes fluttered. Her hand twitched and reached up to rub at her face.
"Miss Granger, how are you feeling?" he asked loudly, shaking her shoulder a bit.
"Mmm…Harry?" she croaked, her eyes still shut against the glaring wand light.
"Miss Granger, can you remember what has happened?" Snape had been terribly curious about the rest of the wizarding world, and Elizabeth's limited perception and garbled version of events had only stoked that curiosity.
She frowned at his voice, looking confused. "Harry?" she asked, opening her eyes blearily.
"Don't worry about Potter now. What have you – "
Hermione's eyes opened wide at the word Potter. For just a moment, she stared at him in stunned surprise, but then, scrambling frantically, she clutched her blanket up to her chin and scooted back against the wall. "Where am I? Where's Harry?"
Snape frowned. "I certainly would not know."
She looked around the dark walls of the cave and panicked, cowering against the wall. Although in better times pleasant enough to look at, she had recently acquired a tense, pinched look, and it was amplified all the more by her catching up against the wall like some wild, cornered creature. "Where am I? Where are Elizabeth, and Crookshanks?" she demanded.
"They survived your apparation very well. They are fine," Snape said briskly.
Her eyes skated around the cave's interior, searching desperately. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, on the edge of hysteria. "I don't understand," she managed, between hitching little gasps. "If they're all right, why aren't they here? Elizabeth's five years old. Are you just letting her run wild? Is there anybody else here? Where did you come from, where have you been? And where's Harry?" Despair was creeping into her voice now, and though it was difficult to tell for sure in the dim cave, it looked as if tears had sprung to her eyes. "I thought I was going to find Harry. The spell was supposed to take me to the giant slayer. The giant slayer was supposed to be HARRY!"
Snape stood up abruptly. She hadn't changed a bit since he'd last seen her. She was just as annoying and ungrateful as ever. "Miss Granger, before you begin blaming me for not taking proper care of Elizabeth, and that cat, who are even now within my sight," and Elizabeth was indeed at the mouth of the cave, holding Crookshanks in her arms, "I suggest you remember that you were the one who deposited them at my feet."
Hermione's face grew red, either with anger or the memory of her appearance when she'd arrived with Elizabeth and Crookshanks.
"As for giant slaying," Snape continued, "the spell brought you to the correct person. Who knows what fool errand Potter is on, or whether he even survived this invasion." Hermione began to blink too frequently, trying to ward off tears, perhaps. "I'll send the others in," Snape said brusquely, and stepped outside before she could level any more unwarranted accusations.