Notes at the end...go on, you know you want to skip ahead to the story anyways ; )

SSHG

I received her missive at breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning. I was, of course, at the head table with the other professors. My eyes found hers among the crowd of students. While she was technically enrolled in Hogwarts, she was not a normal student by any means and as such had the option as did all the other returning seventh years of eating meals in her private quarters. I got the feeling that she sat at the Gryffindor table that morning simply to show me that she could. She sat slightly separate from the rest of the students, but there was a large group of children who had aided in the war efforts in one way or another that were close by. Despite their friendly chatter, she paid them no attention. After her eyes had met mine and acknowledged me, they returned to her food and stayed there.

My Ancient Runes tutoring session ends at noon. After that I await your convenience for my exam.

Her neat cursive writing stood out starkly on the parchment like an accusation. I crumpled the paper and shoved it into my robe. What had possessed me to even extend the option of me doing this exam? I hadn't truly meant it! I thought that once she saw how much worse the alternatives were, she would run straight to Poppy. I stared so hard at my water goblet that it cracked. Before water could start dripping, the goblet disappeared and a new one took its place. I took a deep breath, getting my anger and my magic under control. I didn't want to do this fucking exam any more than I wanted to pose nude for the cover of Witch Weekly. In fact, I would much rather have rather stripped starkers and smiled for their photographer than do the exam.

It was in the front of my mind to simply tell her that I wasn't an option, despite what I'd said the night before, and make her see someone else. The only thing that stopped me was the memory of her words right before she'd left my office. Her trust in me. Her absolute confidence that I would not harm her. That I understood. And spirits help me, I did. Serving Voldermort had been a constant rape of the soul. My soul had been ravaged just as much as her body, and I knew why she felt that shame, anger, horror. I shared them. I had been forced by necessity to share my trauma with Dumbledore. She had never shared hers with anyone before. But now that I knew, it gave her the opportunity to see to her health without telling anyone else about what had happened.

I was putting myself on the block for someone else, yet again. I'd sworn after the war that never, never again would I cause myself suffering on behalf of others. Too much of my life had been spent that way. And now I would be doing this exam to spare Miss Granger's feelings. Did she not realize how terrible it would be for me? She was not a selfish woman, so I doubted it. I swallowed thickly, hardened my resolve, and pretended to eat my breakfast.

But my appetite was gone.

At noon, my emotions were wrung out and I felt raw all over. I couldn't stop imagining what she was thinking, what she was feeling. Did her hands shake in fear even as I paced my office? Was her heart pounding in her throat with thoughts of what was to come? How many times that morning did she force down the awful memories of what had been done to her? And why couldn't I stop feeling this ridiculous empathy for her? I needed to remain as detached as possible. I needed to be impartial and cold. I would be coming face to face with physical evidence of a terrible assault and I needed my composure. The water goblet that morning hadn't been the only thing to break because of my turbulent emotions, and I did not want every vial and glass pane in my office to shatter when I saw exactly what had been done to her.

Taking deep breaths, I sought the calm in my mind. I forced myself to see how stupid it was to be agitated by this. She was a grown woman. She certainly wasn't reaching out to me for help. I would repair any damage, give her potions for any diseases, and then we would never speak of this again. She would continue her weekend tutoring sessions for the semester, take her NEWTS, and if I never saw her face again it would be only too soon. The only relief I took for the next few months was that I did not have to see her during the week. She would only be in the castle Friday Saturday and Sunday until January and no more than that.

Feeling slightly more composed, I seated myself at my desk and transfigured a worktable at my right into an exam table. After making sure that I had all the supplies necessary at the ready, I charmed a message to find her in the castle and bring her to me.

My mind was still in its forced calm when she came into my office a few minutes later. She said nothing in greeting, nor did I. After setting her bag on the floor, she stood silently. I looked up at her from my seat and met her eyes. They were unblinking. With a sigh and a resigned nod, I flicked my wand at her and instantly her robes became a soft hospital gown.

"Onto the table," I instructed. She broke eye contact and went to the table, seating herself there and laying back. Without walking over to her yet, I levitated the papery blanket beside her over her lap. "Scoot down until you are at the edge of the table and put your heels into the catches." I saw her shifting from the corner of my eye, heard her gasp when she felt how exposed she was when arranged thus. I closed my eyes momentarily and regained my mental calm. I could do this. I pulled my hair back and secured it at the nape of my neck. My sleeves were rolled up over my forearms, and I cast a scourgafy on my hands and arms before donning surgical gloves. I'd be damned if I'd touch her without some sort of barrier no matter how thin, even with cleansing charms. It had nothing to do with fear of myself becoming infected with something she might carry and everything to do with feeling that as long as I wasn't placing my bare hands on her I would be sparing her some small pain.

Wand at the ready, I finally turned and went to the small stool placed at the end of the exam table and seated myself between her legs. The blanket across her knees formed a sort of sheet between us, but I could tell her eyes were squeezed shut. I took a deep breath, braced myself, and turned my eyes down to her.

Holy mother of god.

Had I eaten any of my breakfast that morning, it would have been ejected from my stomach. I closed my eyes and opened them again, hoping beyond hope that what I'd seen had been a mistake. A trick of the light. But no. Everything was still exactly as I'd first seen it. I heard several quiet pings from across the room as glass started to crack. I closed my eyes once more to fight for control. I could control my magic. I could control my revulsion. I could control the rage that pounded in my ears like the deadly ticking of a bomb. I opened my eyes and sent several diagnostic spells at her.

While they worked, my mind raced. How could this be possible? She'd been eight in the memory I'd seen. She said that it had started earlier than that even. And that it had gone on after. Sometime older than eleven. But I just thought that after my outburst she had been too ashamed to tell me if it had been a year or more later than that when it stopped. I thought fifteen at the latest. The absolute worst possibility. At fifteen she'd begun to learn fighting spells and had mastered them quickly. It at least had to have stopped by then.

So why, why fucking why were these abrasions fresh? Why were these bruises obviously less than a week old? Why were the cuts just starting to scab over? I knew my hands were trembling as I began to place healing spells on her. I'd been totally unprepared for this. Wordlessly, I accioed several potions from my private stores. Poultices for bruises, salves for cuts, a pain draught. The jars I kept at my side as I began to work. The little bottle I sent up to her.

"Drink that." Was that my voice? Had those words come from my throat? They sounded so foreign, not like any sound my own vocal cords had ever made. No. They were too agonized, too emotional to ever have come from me. She did as I said without comment or question. Her trust in me continued to floor me.

My diagnostic spells continued to run as I began the slow process of healing her from the inside out. Healing years of damage. Healing injuries that had obviously been inflicted less than a week ago, as well. I did not want to lay my hands on her, but I couldn't do everything that needed done with simple wandwork. I heard her sharp intake of breath as I probed for deeper damage. Her muscles tensed, body subconsciously trying to fight.

"Miss Granger, you must relax if I'm to be able to fully diagnose and repair this damage." I moderated my voice until my tone was cool and clinical. She took a shuddering breath and fought her body's natural reaction. Fearing she was on the edge of full blown panic, I probed her mind, not a full legimens, but a soft brush that she would not notice.

Does he think I don't know that it will go easier for me if I relax? Does he think I wouldn't always make my body malleable and pliant if I could? I know how much pain it could save me. So why can't I stop it? Why can't I simply allow it?

Oh god oh god.

No! This isn't like that. He's trying to help, he wants to help me. He wants to take the pain away, not make it worse. He's not enjoying this. He won't hurt me. He won't use me. I can do this. I can do this. Relax. He won't hurt me. I trust Severus Snape with my life. I can trust him with my body. Don't think of the times he said that it would go easier for me if I just stopped fighting. You are very brave, Hermione Granger. You can do this. I can do this. Remember who is touching me now. Remember how safe Severus makes me feel. Remember how many times he has saved my life, put himself in danger to protect me. Remember his strong hands fighting to keep me from harm. Remember his deep voice, calm and commanding, never sickly sweet with false promises. Relax. He will not hurt me. He would never hurt me.

I felt her body relax and withdrew from her mind. It took every ounce of my considerable willpower to keep my hands from shaking as I continued the exam. How was I to feel about what I'd just seen in her mind? How was I supposed to feel that my admonishment to relax had made her think back to when her abuser had told her not to fight him? And how was I supposed to feel that despite her panic, her fears, she trusted me? By the images that had flashed across her mind, she remembered every time I'd put myself in harms way to protect her and her friends. Had I thought my service thankless or unnoticed? This woman had carefully cherished every memory, every act I'd done to help her. She took solace in my cutting words because they were brutal in their honesty. What cloying words had her attacker told her? What dulcet promises had he made her?

I didn't want to know. I didn't want to feel any of this. Not the disgust that I might have said something to make her relive even a little of that horror. Not the comfort her trust lent to my soul. Not the gratitude that someone saw the things I'd done and was thankful for them. I wanted to be numb. I fought for emptiness of emotion as I continued. With one hand just above her pelvic bone and fingers from my other hand inside her, I pressed slightly, feeling for damage to her cervix. She flinched at the pressure and her body tensed again. I withdrew and took a deep breath.

"Are you able to continue, Miss Granger?" I could have brushed her mind again to see how much more she could handle, but didn't dare. My hold on control was a tenuous thread that I didn't trust to withstand another look into her head. "If you cannot, we can stop right now. We can continue another day, or you can ask Madam Pomfrey to finish the exam and healing." I waited, not touching her again until she answered.

"No. Keep going. Please. I need to just get this over with." Her voice was strained, but steady. Nodding to myself, I kept going. Healing tears, removing thick scar tissue, easing strained muscles. Thank the spirits there wasn't any disease. She'd been spared at least that indignity. Once her internal bruising was repaired and all traces of her attacks had been removed from inside her, I moved outward. "Thank you," she whispered as I rubbed a poultice on a disgustingly hand shaped bruise on her inner thigh. Startled, I stopped and caught my breath.

"For what?" The incredulity in my voice was obvious.

"For giving me the choice." Her words made my heart twist. I hadn't given her a choice. I'd coerced her into this, and worse, I'd do it again. "For giving me the chance to change my mind," she continued. "For being willing to stop if it was too much for me."

"Common decency," I muttered, unable to accept her gratitude. I kept working, wanting this blasted healing finished.

"I cannot tell you how much it means to me," she said softly. Inside my chest, I felt my heart twist again. I could fight for numbness all I wanted, but I could not be oblivious to her pain. I felt it more sharply than I would feel my own. I didn't just want to feel the blood of her attacker coating my hands, I also wanted to do something so ridiculous as to hold her. Comfort her. Absurd.

I worked for another half an hour before I finished all the healing that could be done. It would only take time, now, and she would be back to full health once more. But...only if this didn't happen again.

I pushed back and stood, gesturing for her to sit up. Once she did, I transfigured her clothing back to the way it had been, and disposed of the gloves. I wordlessly cast two scourgify charms at my hands, as if cleaning them would clean my mind of seeing what had been done to her. I felt dirty just having had to see it. How did she walk around every day feeling it? Living it?

"Sit," I commanded softly. Before I took my own seat, I returned the exam table to its original state as a worktable. Then I sat heavily, tenting my fingers under my chin and watching her carefully. "Do you feel the need for a calming draught?" Instantly her eyes were narrowed in confusion.

"Why?"

"Because, Miss Granger, we need to discuss...this."

"There's nothing to discuss."

"Are you under the impression that I am the sort of man to see something like that and do nothing about it?" The menace was back in my voice, but whether I'd intended that or not I honestly couldn't tell.

"I...Severus...Headmaster, there isn't anything to be done. I owe you an incredible debt of gratitiude for healing me. I cannot tell you what it means to me to be pain free right now. Above and beyond that, nothing can be done."

"Nothing can be done?" I hissed the words, my anger rising again, burning out of control. "It can be stopped! Sweet Salizar, woman, you can fight back! And I don't mean simple struggling. I mean defending your life."

"My life isn't in danger."

"Are you really so certain?"

"Yes." She swallowed and took a deep breath. "Yes."

"Tell me this much, then. Is it the same man? The one from that memory I saw in your childhood? Or is this some new assailant?" I tried to keep the venom from the words. For several moments, she said nothing.

"No, it is the same man."

"So explain to me why this has gone on for so long. Why haven't you stopped him. Hurt him, killed him."

"You don't understand! I can't!" Tears began to form in her eyes. Questions whirled in my mind like a tornado. Couldn't? Or wouldn't? Why wouldn't a woman want to harm her rapist? What could possibly be protecting him from her wrath?

"Is he a more powerful wizard than you, then?" I gripped my wand subconsciously, thinking of how much I would enjoy peeling the skin from this man before I burned him slowly alive. I didn't doubt my ability to preform the task for her if for some reason she simply wasn't strong enough.

"No, he's a muggle-"

"A muggle?! What, does he have some sort of blackmail on you?"

"No, nothing like that! You don't understand, you don't get it, I can't...can't hurt him..." She dissolved into tears. A terrible thought struck me like a bolt of lightning. Something so evil that it chilled my bones.

"Do you...love him?" The question burned my tongue like sacrilege. Was it possible? Her head came up to mine, eyes searching mine as if looking for absolution. Understanding.

"Yes," she whispered. "I hate him. I hate him. But I love him. I have to." Seeing the revulsion on my face, she dropped her eyes to the floor once more. I could hear the pounding of my heart, feel the tingle in my fingertips of magic building there. Looking to lash out. Looking to kill. Disgust and horror and a black kind of hatred the likes of which I'd never known boiling inside me.

"Have you ever heard of something called Stockholm Syndrome, Miss Granger?"

"Of course," she started. I cut her off.

"Then you're aware that occasionally victims of terrible abuses learn to identify with their abusers. Defend them, develop a kind of relationship with them. And I'm sure you're aware that these feelings are nothing more than their mind's way of trying to cope with the horrors inflicted upon them. They are not real."

"I do not have Stockholm Syndrome," she insisted.

"No? You have just admitted to being in love with the man who rapes you."

"Not in love with him-"

"Love but not in love?" My mind raced with what the fuck she could possibly mean. Possibilities flashed in my mind, examined at light speed and discarded just as quickly. Finally I came to one that made sense. "Is he a member of your family, Miss Granger?" When she gaped up at me, I knew I'd struck home. A member of her mother fucking family. Her flesh and blood. Someone who was bound by the very laws of nature to protect her and cherish her. Someone she felt compelled to love. My rage intensified. "I realize that you may think you are doing the right thing by defending him-" I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to maintain my calm demeanor.

"Defending him? I am not defending him! You have no idea what you are talking about!"

"Then explain it to me!" I thundered at her. She flinched and I instantly regretted the outburst.

"I do not have to explain anything to you! Just- just leave me alone! I can handle it!"

"Obviously you can't!"

"Stop! Stop this!" She stood and ran to the door.

"Do you want this to go on for the rest of your life?!" I rose and strode after her. She turned, those caramel eyes anguished.

"Want? You bastard. You bastard! Leave me the hell alone!" She grabbed the door handle and started to open the door. In one stride I was beside her, snapping the door shut by placing one hand palm flat against it and leaning my weight into it. She glared up at me, tears falling freely. I felt the weight of guilt pressing down on me. I didn't know the right words to say, I kept messing it up, making her feel pain because of my carelessness...

"Let me help you," I entreated. It was the second time in my entire life I'd begged. In all my years, I had only done it once before, to save the life of the woman I loved. And now, I was doing it again, trying to save another young woman who wouldn't take my help. For one instant, she froze. Her eyes bored into mine, stripping me bare once more. I thought that she was going to collapse into my arms. That she was going to cry on my shoulder and beg me to save her. Turn to me for comfort and safe haven. And it was what I wanted. Anything, anything except for her to go through that door and continue on the way she had been.

But then the anguish came back again. "No one can help me," she whispered fiercely. Then she yanked the door open. I was so stunned that I let her. She fled my office. I stood in the door way, watching her go, wondering what the hell I was going to do.

Ugh...this chapter was so emotionally exhausting to write. I love, and hate and love it. There's just so much...you understand it, right? Poor Severus. Poor Hermione. It gets darkest before the light comes in this story, so hang on, but don't worry, I promise there WILL be light at the end of the tunnel. This started out as a short little drabble, a scene bouncing around in my head, and has blossomed into something else, this angsty and dark tale that demanded to be told. The chapters are coming quick and somewhat random, but hopefully the rapid updates makes up for the lack of schedule to them.

Questions? Comments? Leave me a reivew! Also, (and you LTL readers already know this!) I will be doing an author Q&A as chapter 27 of Learning to Live, so if you'd like your question to appear, send it along to me!

On a final note: to my guest reviewer concerned that I was going about the story the wrong way by having Snape "force Hermione with violence" and turning Snape into a "spiteful petty little arse," I say this. As every writer knows, true characters do not bend to the author's will. The characters do what they wish, we are just the conduits through which they express themselves. Many times in this story, Snape has done things I did not want him to do. Alas, I cannot control that sneaky Slytherin. However, I will note this line of regret that he voiced when he realized how upset Hermione was at his intrusion into her head:

"Tears fell from her lashes and I drew back, guilt assailing me. She was obviously traumatized, riddled with insecurities and doubts, and I was barraging her mind with all the delicacy of a battering ram. To her, it probably felt like just as much a violation as a physical assault. I pulled back immediately."

He does not wish to harm her or victimize her further. As we all know, he's a good guy at heart. As for forcing her to get the exam by giving her an ultimatum, unless you have been forced into that position before, there is no way to know how you will react. Could you take the chance that someone you care for was carrying a disease that might kill them? Or that they'd been deformed and could be in need of internal repairs? What lengths would you go to in order to make sure they were safe? While his methods are abrasive and a little callous, much like the man himself, they have Hermione's best interest at heart. I'm not saying that Hermione won't feel cornered, pressured, uncomfrotable, and yes even a little bullied, but hopefully you'll come to see just how necessary his 'tough love' is for her. Nothing he does is petty or spiteful. His behavior will continue to seem at once both icy cold adn blisteringly hot. But I'm afraid that if you think that he is a petty spiteful little arse simply by ensuring Hermione gets proper medical attention, his behavior as the story progresses may upset you. Hopefully, though, you can come to see Severus' side : )