A/N: Onwards we go!

Much love and thanks to my beta AdelaideArcher. Any mistakes are my own.

Chapter 8: Essentials of Healing

Snape was missing from his bed as usual the following morning. However, my encounter the night before helping him heal his wounds had shown me that there was something more I could do to help him beyond becoming his friend and, hopefully, saving his life. I couldn't leave the chambers, so I couldn't help him fight the Dark Lord directly, but I could make sure he didn't suffer once he returned.

After breakfast, I scoured Snape's library for books related to healing, finding several suitable tomes. I settled down on the couch with Essentials of Healing, wondering if Snape would think I'd gone mad once he saw the stack of books on the table that evening.

"Developed a sudden interest in healing, have we?" he said dryly over a cup of tea.

"Well, if something like last night happens again, I want to be more prepared," I said.

"I assure you, Miss Granger, that is unnecessary," he replied. "As you saw, I am more than capable of healing myself."

"Oh, I'm not saying you aren't capable, sir," I said quickly. "But what if you're unconscious, or too weak to cast? I can't exactly call Madam Pomfrey."

"That is unlikely," said Snape.

"I know, but just in case," I said, straightening up and giving him a weak smile. "I also thought I could brew some potions. I didn't see another bottle of Blood-Replenisher in the cupboard last night. I could make more, and some others, so that we're prepared if anything happens. I won't without your permission, of course, since I'd need to use your laboratory here, and you'd need to get me the ingredients. But I'm more than capable, sir, and it would give me something useful to do during the day when you're working."

I knew I was rambling, but I really did like the thought of being more useful to Snape. Plus the thought of encountering him bleeding out in his rooms and having no idea what to do terrified me.

That thought made me think of Snape in the Shrieking Shack, limp and bleeding onto the rough wooden floor, and I became even more determined to learn how to heal properly.

"Please, sir," I said, looking him in the eyes and trying to will him to accept.

Snape's brows knitted into a scowl as he seemed to consider my request. I did my best to sit patiently, but grew restless the longer he was silent, eventually squirming in my seat.

"Stop jumping around like a flea, Miss Granger," he snapped eventually.

"Sorry, sir," I said, forcing myself to settle.

Snape sighed. "All right, Miss Granger, you can brew. I will create a separate station for you. You must never touch my cauldron or ingredients without permission."

I smiled in delight, despite his warnings. "Thank you, sir," I said. "You won't regret it."

"I'd better not," he said with a sneer.

Brewing potions for Snape, it turned out, ended up being the easiest part of learning how to heal. Using Snape's copy of Therapeutic Brews and careful to follow his spidery notes in the margins ensured that by the end of the week, I had filled the storage cupboard with bottles of not only Blood-Replenishing Potion, but also Pepper-Up Potion, Calming Draught, Burn-Healing Paste, and Wound-Cleaning Potion.

It was my afternoons spent attempting to learn healing spells that became frustrating, as without any damaged persons to practice on, I had no idea if I was performing the spells correctly. I also desperately wanted to find out more about the hauntingly beautiful spell that Snape had used to heal himself, but could find no reference to it in any of the healing manuals I read.

In the end, I decided to ask Snape about the spell.

"Sir," I said, as we sat in our well-worn spots drinking tea, "the night you were injured, can you tell me about the healing spell you used?"

Snape looked up from the fire, which was flickering happily in the grate.

"It is of my own invention," he said silkily.

"That explains why it wasn't in any of the books I've been reading," I said, and Snape nodded knowingly.

"Can you teach it to me?" I asked hopefully. Snape stood from the sofa and began pacing in front of me, reminding me of my years in his classes at Hogwarts.

"Its use is primarily to heal slashes and cuts, and it is most effective if repeated three times. The incantation is Vulnera Sanentur. However, you cannot simply say the words," he said.

"You sang them," I said.

"Yes," he said, halting his feet and staring into the fire, so all I could see was the tip of his hawk-like nose sticking out beyond his lank curtains of hair. Then he began to demonstrate the notes, singing softly in his velvety tenor tones. As I listened to him, I felt my body begin to tingle in response, and I wondered, is the spell having an affect on me?

When he finished, I swallowed deliberately, for there seemed to be a strange lump in my throat. "You… you have a lovely singing voice, sir," I said, blushing slightly.

"Your turn, Miss Granger," he replied as if he hadn't heard me, turning and taking a seat on the sofa.

"All right," I said, sitting up straighter and gathering my courage. I felt oddly nervous, singing in front of Professor Snape, but after a moment I closed my eyes, remembering the tones from Snape's beautiful song, and did my best to repeat them.

"Your tone is adequate," said Snape smoothly. "Would you like to practice using the spell?"

"Yes, please," I said, feeling excited that I would finally get to practice for real, though not knowing how we might do it.

"Sit next to me," he said, and I did as I was told, taking a seat beside him. He began rolling up the sleeve on his right arm, and as comprehension dawned on how he was going to have me practice, he drew his wand across his flesh, leaving a deep cut. The man didn't even flinch, and soon scarlet beads began to bubble up from his skin.

"Sir!" I squeaked. "You—you're bleeding!"

"Then heal it, Miss Granger," snapped Snape. "Use the incantation and wave your wand over the injury. I don't want bloodstains on my sofa."

Trying not to panic as Snape's blood began to pool and run across his pale flesh, I took hold of my wand.

You can do this, Hermione.

I took a deep breath, forcing my hand to stop shaking, and began the incantation, just as I had practiced, and was relieved to see the blood receding from his flesh.

"Not bad for a first attempt," said Snape. From him it was a glowing compliment, and I sighed in relief. "Be more confident. Your voice was shaking."

"Again," he said, and I hissed as he once again split open the cut on his arm with his wand. "Don't hesitate, Miss Granger. In a real scenario, seconds can mean death."

The words and memories of him bleeding out in the Shrieking Shack spurred me on. Once again I raised my wand, and focused hard on keeping my voice steady and even while I sang the incantation. The blood once again receded into Snape's flesh.

Again and again Snape cut open his arm, forcing me to heal him until I no longer flinched and my actions and voice were smooth. I was tiring when he finally told me we'd done enough.

"Thank you, sir," I said. "You really didn't have to do that."

"As I am the professor in the room, I think decisions about what is required for you to learn effectively lie with me," said Snape, rolling his sleeve back down over his arm, which showed no signs of injury.

I really didn't know what else to say. The man had cut into his own flesh so that I could learn to heal, for Merlin's sake! The whole thing was utterly beyond comprehension. And yet, I found I did feel confident enough in my ability to perform the spell that if a situation arose where I needed to heal Snape, I thought I could do it.

I watched Snape's sinuous hands do up the buttons on his sleeve, his long fingers flicking the silver nubs confidently through their holes. He really was a truly fascinating man, and I wondered if I'd ever understand him.

As I watched, he reached forward and gently picked up his book from the coffee table. He ran two fingers over the words Aenigmate Obscurus pressed in silver onto the cover, then brought it to his body. Making a perch for the volume with his long fingers, he opened the pages like a flower, and I felt my body inching towards his imperceptibly, completely entranced in watching this man read. I'd never met a man—or a woman, for that matter—who loved books or read as ravenously as I did. To see him show such obvious care for the tome was somehow oddly exciting, and I watched intently as his index finger slowly moved back and forth across the spine in a gentle caress. As he grasped the corner of a page, turning it over as if it was a delicate petal, my tongue slowly ran over my lower lip, imagining what other things Professor Snape might do with those beautiful, powerful hands. Feeling the wetness of my saliva on my lips made me suddenly aware of the fact my heart was pounding in my chest, and my eyes widened as Snape smoothed the page with the backs of his fingers.

What in Merlin's name are you doing?!

Realising that I was getting turned on watching Professor Snape—Professor Snape!—read his book, I straightened up, blushing as scarlet as the blood I'd vanished from his arm earlier. Praying he hadn't noticed my obvious staring, I quickly grabbed my copy of Advanced Physick and Surgery, curling my legs under me as I made a serious effort to read a paragraph on healing injuries to the pancreas. Unfortunately, my mind was busy arguing wildly with itself, and I don't think I took in a single word.

What the hell, Hermione? He was your professor for six years!

Yes, well, you never did think he was as ugly or greasy as the boys did, did you?

You are supposed to save his life, not bloody fantasise about him! What would he do if he knew what you were thinking?!

I know. I know! I'm just lonely or something. That's it. I miss Ron.

Except I knew that I did not, in fact, miss Ron in that way. I missed his friendship and his company, but even though I'd kissed him in fit of passion during the final battle, I knew as soon as he abandoned Harry and me in the Forest of Dean that I would never, ever be able to have the relationship with him I'd been dreaming about since third year. I knew then that in his heart he didn't trust me, and that severed my desire for him as easily as a knife cutting through string.

Admittedly there was a time during our hunt for Horcruxes—before Ron left Harry and me alone in the forest—when I thought Ron and I were a sure thing. Sure enough that when we were at Grimmauld Place and Harry was out on a reconnaissance mission at the Ministry of Magic, I made love to that red-headed boy. I hadn't meant to go that far; really, I just wanted to kiss him, to see what he tasted like. But as our clothes came off and his hands scraped over my naked body with such an intense desire it made me feel like I was on fire, I decided I wasn't going to stop him if he wanted to go all the way. The fact was, there was a really good chance we were going to die before we killed Voldemort, and I thought I might as well go to my grave knowing that I'd lost my virginity to someone I loved.

Even after Ron abandoned us in the forest, I didn't regret it. I hated him for leaving me and breaking my heart, but I didn't regret what we'd done.

The thing was, though, I stopped daydreaming about him while he was gone. And when he came back, I no longer felt a thrill go through me when he looked at me, or hugged me, or said my name.

I certainly didn't fucking fantasise about his fingers as he turned the pages of a book.

Sighing audibly, I closed my book in my lap and put it gently on the coffee table, knowing there was no way I was going to understand a thing that night, even if I could force myself to read.

"Something the matter?" asked Snape, looking at me curiously. His eyebrows rose in a question and his lips curled into something that resembled partly a sneer and partly a smile.

Merlin, he's handsome.

Shit.

No, Hermione, no! You are not attracted to Professor Snape!

I cleared my throat. "No," I said, "I think I'm going to go and have a bath, and then go to bed."

"Sleep well, Miss Granger," said Snape, a hint of a smile lifting his lips once more.

Not bloody likely.

"Thanks, Professor," I said calmly. "And thanks for earlier."

"I could…" he paused for a moment, his eyes flicking to his book before moving back to mine, "teach you other healing spells as well, if you'd like."

"I'd like that," I said, trying to ignore the thrum of my veins as my heart began pumping blood a little harder than it really needed to at his offer.

"Tomorrow, then," he said with a nod of his head.

"Tomorrow," I confirmed, nodding back. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight… Hermione."

Oh fucking shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.