Summary:
Snape continues to curse his bodily prison, and now his too active mind. Legilimency is only valuable if he had the ability to act upon what he finds. Blaise is ever needling everyone forward, and frustrated with the incompetence of the general public, while he and Hermione prepare for the start of term. Hermione is determined to stay at Hogwarts, where she makes a completely unforeseen discovery.
Beta read thanks to Tanguera!
Hermione relegated the letter to the fire. Blaise looked up from his seat on the rug, beside the furiously scribbling Theo Nott surrounded by the hasty piles of books and notes. While twirling a coloured quill, Blaise drawled out.
"Bad news? Or worse news?" Hermione turned back to her planner, noting Theo's rapid notations appearing on the page, and sighed as she made a few corrections.
"Irrelevant news. Molly Weasley trying to appeal to my senses, to take life seriously rather than finish my NEWT levels. There were between-the-line suggestions about my nonexistent relationship with Ron stalling. It just sounds like a bunch of 'pop out babies' malarkey." Theo finally paused in his work with a snort.
"Is Madam Weasel aware of how much that would amount to child abuse? Everything is a mess, the potion shortage could even endanger both mother and child." As he spoke, Blaise and Hermione stared at one another in panicked horror. "Wait, if she's encouraging it…" Hermione immediately started noting the ingredients and timeline for contraceptive, prenatal and childbirth related potions. Blaise groaned and crushed his quill in frustration.
"There's going to be some godforsaken baby boom. Of course, the population is idiotic enough to celebrate without actual thought to the damn consequences." Blaise nearly tore through the parchment while looking over her shoulder, with the additional ingredients. He tossed a furious handful of Floo powder into the fire, before chucking a six foot-long list in, then sticking his head in and relaying further instructions. Blaise was still muttering, when he summoned a house-elf and handed it another roll of parchment. "Please give this list to Neville Longbottom. You can tell him the priority level remains the same for the greenhouse. Afterwards, we would like a light dinner brought up. Thank you." Hermione stretched, trying to ease the lower back ache that was more times present than not. Theo tutted then waved her to the sofa.
"Granger, you're going to have to visit the healers at this rate." Blaise watched his lover ease the knots in the witch's back muscles. He was looking forward to his own massage, though with more pleasurable endings. "Despite the staggering responsibilities you two have, you've got to relax at some point. Blaise manages it."
Hermione sighed. "Theo I'm not going to find some random wizard to roger. Nor would any healer have the time for me at the moment. I thought we were done with this." She grunted as he dug knuckles into a particularly sore spot.
"Doesn't have to be random." She glared at Blaise, assuming he had shared private information. "Or a wizard." Then blushed and broke eye contact at Blaise's disdainful eyebrow. So her secret was still hers.
"Yes, Hermione. Doesn't have to be random at all." Hermione rolled her eyes at Zabini and gasped at the strength of Nott's hands. They were interrupted by the squeak of a tiny young house-elf barely holding up under the weight of the sandwiches and juice pitcher. With Nott busy relieving the poor creature, Hermione smacked Blaise's shoulder lightly with the back of her hand, then moved forward to ascertain her share from the monstrous appetite Nott usually had.
Severus Snape, Potions Master, Spy, Prisoner. The bitter train of his thoughts trundled down well-travelled tracks. Especially now that he indeed was imprisoned in his own body, reduced to barely having the strength to lift his arm in any way past the elbow. While he could wiggle his toes, Snape had no energy for the unbearable itch on his left shin. The soft echo of potion residue heralded her arrival, from the wisps he caught – more Calming Draught and… Contraception? Hermione Granger examined his face while she cleansed and untangled his hair.
"Itch or pain?" Severus sighed in relief and typed I, then watched his former student hover over parts of his body before he blinked. She lightly scratched his lightly hairy leg until his fingers curled, then flipped the blanket back over. He wondered idly where else she would be willing to scratch, before mentally chided himself. Boredom and a usually exercised libido were getting the better of him, but she was lovely to look at and rather highly attentive to his needs. Severus knew simpering and toadying. The quiet air Hermione took during her regular visit and tasks with his body were neither. He was always… pampered. Case in point, the thoughtful moisturizing spell she cast on his skin before carefully rotating his ankles and wrists, bending his knees towards his chest, and arms above his head and to the side. No, he had only seen this type of devotion in St. Mungo's palliative care ward amongst family. He skimmed her thoughts lightly to avoid detection. His chest tightened.
"Sir, would you like to finish the Brazilian entry on ingredient substitution?" Severus could only blink, letting her voice wash over him but retaining nothing. This girl, no woman. His heart raced at the familiar feeling he had just experienced. The overwhelming ache of unrequited love, for once was not his. No, the guilt was still there, Lily was always there muted now by time and this recent shock. Snape's mind turned over through this new development, fluttering pages of courses of action and consequences. This slip of a girl couldn't possibly know what love was, or the damage their relationship would cause to her reputation. Wasn't she to marry the ginger? His eyes glazed at the passing wisp of thought, married to Hermione. Quiet evenings sitting close in front of the fire, reading potion journals over a nightcap. Snape cursed his immobility for nth time, he needed to walk, to brew something, blast a tree. Instead, he was left with his treacherous thoughts of what if. It was not uncommon for a teacher to take up with a former student.
Footsteps alerted the two to the approaching Zabini. He took up the journal, and suggested Hermione updated the brewing plan with the patient schedules. She nodded and left after smoothing the blanket over Severus' chest. Blaise tracked his professor's eyes, which followed the witch. It turned into a glare. The younger man smirked.
"You could do worse, sir. The political and financial weight; just needs a little polish. I've been told a younger wife can be invigorating." Snape curled his hand into a two finger salute. HOW LONG. Zabini put aside the journal. "How long has she loved you, or how long before you can move and answer her?" Snape blinked agreement to both. "Months. I found out quite early in our visits, and your healing is hampered. It's slow to regrow your vocal chords, liver and lung with limited potions." Snape processed the insurmountable stretch of time he was to remain in this cursed bed. He only snapped to attention at Blaise's hesitation. "Sir…however you handle it… you will be gentle?" Severus felt as out of depth as Zabini clearly did, rarely in any of their conversations did they discuss the fairer sex in this way. Previously, he had only advised his student on the more effective contraception methods, or on discretion, upon observing that Blaise's romantic ability almost rivalled his mother's. Gentleness was foreign to their House, reserved for the rest. What had the world become, if high and mighty Blaise Zabini was now protective of muggleborn Hermione Granger.
They heard her soft footfall, she smiled at both of them and said, "I'm off to adjust the next batches, and find myself lunch. Would you like anything?" Blaise shook his head, and the potions master typed N . Again, Blaise watched Snape's eye movement as she left. Severus maintained eye contact as he typed Y.
Hermione tickled the pear. The kitchens were still warm as ever, but nearly empty. One senior elf was stirring a large pot constantly, while squeaking orders to tiny young elves and Winky. The other adult house-elves most likely helping the castle restore itself. The Astronomy Tower roof and railings still required attention. It would be less than a week before other students arrived for the start of term, rather than forcing them to brave Diagon Alley, Blaise and Hermione organized the bulk purchase of books and essential supplies. The individual packages covered the kitchen's tables. She had only finished her stew and cup of tea, when an imperious squeak sounded.
"Neefa will speak with Missy SPEW." The senior house-elf's ear hair was so long she had braided it in with the one tuft of white hair, giving an almost crown to match the queenly air. Hermione inwardly sighed at the name, Neefa had set her straight on her first visit. There would be no talk of shameful freedom, respect yes, but Missy SPEW was not to cause any more trouble. Hermione approached the elf, who stood on a stool while stirring. A quick glance revealed the pot's contents to be caramel. She remembered receiving a small bag of caramels the first week at Hogwarts, the familiar candy had helped her transition to a new place. "Owls have no home. Cats and frogs have no home. Neefa thinks Astronomy Tower is best." Hermione blinked, then cursed. She had grown so accustomed to using Blaise's owl or Theo's falcon, and forgotten about the population of owls. Their home was set ablaze to impair communications during the war. Merlin, a quick calculation and Hermione boggled at the number of pets that had been left to forage after the evacuation until now. "House-elves take care of them but soon to be cold, and students send letters." Hermione nodded, the efficiency of house-elves still astonished her.
"Thank you for notifying me Neefa, I will notify the others of the Astronomy Tower's new purpose and set up visits for students to reclaim their pets. Will you need any provisions in setting up roosts or habitats?" Neefa's ears flapped as she shook her head. Hermione quickly noted the new task of setting up time slots and signage under Terry Boot's column to be delegated to a younger year if needed. She paused as Neefa swiveled a long crooked finger, and a cheesecloth bag of herbs floated out before a smaller pot started pouring clear liquid into the caramels. It smelled like… "Neefa, is that lavender and sage?"
"Yes, Missy SPEW."
"Have you always made the caramels like that?" Hermione's mind turned in time with the giant wooden spoon Neefa held.
"House-elves help. No bad dreams. Happy Hogwarts. All Neefa's life, I does this. Neefa makes all candy at Hogwarts." Good gracious, the house-elves had been dosing frightened first year students with a crude version of the Calming Draught. There was always candy around Hogwarts, not all from Honeydukes and Hermione had always wondered over the lack of cavities and occurrence of diabetes. "And Neefa helps Master Flume at Christmas." Wait, what?
"Neefa, you mean to say you make all the candy in Honeydukes?" The senior house-elf rolled her eyes expressively.
"Neefa does not make all, Master Flume also make some, Master Flume buys beans and gum and whizzbees and spiders." Hermione had seen potions in candy, Romilda's chocolates that made Ron go mental. But that was a potion poured over them, not brewed into the actual food. Muggles had time-release capsules for medication, but no such equivalent existed in the wizarding world. Some potions reacted adversely when taken too close together, or had nonexistent shelf life. But in candy form, the crystalline properties of sugar could… Hermione's mind sped into a whirl. And she sat down hard on the kitchen floor.
Severus's potion schedule was extremely taxing to prevent his new throat tissue from necrotizing; the new flesh was extremely susceptible to infection. But if he had a lozenge that slowly released dittany or strengthening solution or… His healing speed for internal organ damage would increase with a steady drip of potion supply rather than the feast and famine he currently endured.
"Neefa, will you teach me how to make candy?" Neefa's bulging eyes widened, so much Hermione wondered they didn't pop out of her skull.
"Missy is needing Neefa's help?" At Hermione's nod. "Missy must ask Master Flume, Master says some candies secret."
Only minutes later, Hermione found herself sending a letter using Theo's falcon to Master Flume. She had penned it requesting an appointment to speak on her interest in candy making. Immediately after the falcon left, she started rapidly jotting shorthand thoughts onto parchment. The deluge of possibility made her dizzy with hope. She only could stop after several hours, then mulling this turn of events. She stared at the letters from Ron and Molly Weasley, they sat at the corner of her desk with the promise of eliciting anger. The falcon pompously perched on top of the letters she was glaring at and delivered a wax sealed envelope.
Hermione breathed out as she finished reading the contents. Somewhere along the way, she had lost confidence in what was next. She didn't want to be a brood-mare, nor a trophy wife, nor some icon of the war. Master Flume had agreed. Hermione would meet him at 10 o'clock the next Hogsmeade weekend in two weeks. She tapped the refolded letter against her lips, the vague shadows of the future starting to take shape in her mind's eye.