7. FRIENDLY FIRE

Severus moved through the door to his quarters in a broken stupor. Hermione glanced over at the door where Snape stood and her eyes flew open as he clutched his chest and dropped to his knees. She moved quickly and silently to where he crouched like a wounded bear, throwing herself down to his level and putting her hands around him to steady him. She heard his breath grow faster. He was afraid. She knew that she would not want her - or anyone - to see him in a state of fear and so she did not address it. He had said he was scared, yes, but he had never been one to show it.

"I've got you."

"I'm fine" he hissed.

"No you're not" Hermione said, as the full extent of his injuries became more plain as he stepped into the candlelit room.

The dark fabric of his cloak had hidden the worst of the damage, and Hermione felt a frightened pain like a shard of glass rip through her body. She walked him over towards the brown, leather wing-back armchair in which she had slept the night before. His breath hitched; seething every time his chest rose and wincing as it fell.

"You're okay, you're okay" she soothed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, "let me look at you."

Hermione brushed a tear from his cheek with her thumb and inspected the cuts to his face. She traced a finger gently across the edge of a particularly nasty laceration and he hissed under her touch. She pulled her hand back quickly with an apologetic flinch. She urged him closer still to the chair. When she moved her hands away they were soaked red and her face drained of all its colour.

"Severus... There's so much blood."

Her voice was just above a whisper.

"Not all of it is mine."

The simple act of conversation seemed to exhaust him. Hermione helped to lower him into the armchair, trying to allow him to do as much as he was able for himself. She may have seen a softer side to Severus Snape recently, but he was still a proud man. She allowed him to take the lead. He slumped into the chair and sat quite still, as Hermione nursed him. She cleared her throat and spoke plainly; hoping that the exchange she knew would follow would be as painless as possible.

"I'm sorry", she said, "you're really not going to like this but I need to take off your robes. I need to see exactly where you are hurt."

His eyes widened and his eyebrows came together.

"No" he said, in pathetic protest.

"Okay" she said with understanding, and a little defiance, "then do it yourself."

Snape lifted his arm to unbutton his robes. Hermione stood watching him. He scowled and gestured severely with a jerk of the head that she was to turn away from him.

"Sorry" she said "tell me if you need me."

"Unlikely" he muttered.

She heard a flutter of brushing fabric and imagined that he was moving his arms carefully. He whimpered, and she heard him lift himself up and pull the cloak from under his body. He let out a frustrated groan.

"I need help" he said, miserably. "It's all these blasted buttons".

Hermione rushed over and pulled them apart with ease. Under his robes was a black button down shirt. She unfastened each one, exposing the frosty flesh of his chest, careful not to touch any of the wounds. The more of his clothing she removed, the more she found. Old silver scars, long healed; pink lines and grazes of healing and the ones that frightened her: the open, red cuts that furrowed deep into his skin. She tugged the shirt off his arms and felt her resolve betray her as tears formed and fell. Severus put his hands up in protest, as Hermione unbuckled his belt. She looked at him defiantly and he grimaced.

"I'm just trying to help."

She pulled his belt open and stepped back.
"I'll leave you now."

He nodded. The trace of his scowl fading.

"Pass me... my wand" he said, between jagged breaths.

Hermione reached and grabbed the wand from where it had fallen at the side of the chair. She stepped away from him and turned her back. She walked towards his bed.

"Vulnera Sanentur" he sang, "Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur"

She snapped her head towards him, then realising her betrayal, turned her back to him.
"Sectumsempra?"

It was one of his own, and a damn violent one. Of course the other Death Eaters would have learned it.

"And crucio" he said.

Hermione sagged in her misery. Snape let out a sigh of relief, which Hermione took to mean that the wounds were healing. She kept her back to him, but turned her head just a fraction, so that she was looking towards him but not at him.

"Who did this to you?"

"Rodolphus and..." his voice cracked as he said, "... and Bellatrix."

Snape groaned in pain or misery, and Hermione felt a physical pang of deepest sorrow in her chest.

"I need a healing draught", he said.

Grateful to be of help, Hermione jumped up scanned his shelves. Locating one, she came back to him and handed him the potion. The cuts on his chest had closed, but his body was still bruised and grazed. He covered his body with his arms.

"Don't look at me" he said .

"Sorry. I wasn't- I want to speak with you. I will only look at your face, I promise."

"Okay."

Hermione sat at the side of his chair, with her side up against the arm. She twisted to turn her face to his. Just his face, as promised. Snape drank the potion and slumped back with relief.

"What happened?"

"I upset the Lestranges" he said with a shrug as though upsetting the Lestranges was a common occurrence and often received such retaliation.

Hermione knew that he wasn't ready, might never be ready, to give her details of what happened at the Lestranges' Manor. She noticed that his split lip had reopened as he spoke. She unconsciously turned to him and put her hand to his lips. She ran her thumb across to catch the droplet of blood that threatened to fall onto his chin. She traced the severity of his jaw with her fingers and his hair prickled beneath them. Severus closed his eyes and inhaled gently, before snapping his eyes open and furrowing his brow.

She dropped her hand, as though scalded.

"Sorry" she said.

"Don't be".

His mouth curved into an almost smile, and he winced as his lips cracked. Hermione dropped her gaze to the floor.

"I want to help."

"You have" he said, and covered her hand with his.

"You should rest" she said.

Severus pulled himself off the armchair, trudged across the room and lowered himself onto the bed with great difficulty. He winced as he moved the covers onto his body. Hermione curled up in the chair Severus had vacated, propped her feet up, and settled down. She had recently spent a few nights in this chair, in Severus' rooms. She could have transfigured herself a bed or even a sofa to sleep on, but she had chosen to curl up in the warmth of what she knew to be his favourite chair; he hadn't stopped her. The first night she had stayed because she had fallen asleep there after her night out with Lavender, Katie and Susan. Yet she had stayed other nights because they had spent the evening going over Potion theory, and she hadn't wanted to leave.

Severus looked over at her, and his dropped his eyebrows.

"You don't have to stay."

"I don't know that it'd be wise to leave you unattended."

"Quite."

She gently cleared the lump in her throat.
"Would you like me to go?"

"No" he said, and whispered "Nox" plunging them into darkness.

Hermione woke to the sound of whimpers. She pulled her wand from her pocket as she sprang to her feet and unconsciously said "Lumos". Light filled the room, illuminating Snape- his arms clung to his sheets, pinning them to his body, which shook beneath them.

"You're cold?" she asked.

Stupid question, she thought, as he convulsed and shivered before her. Hermione placed the back of her hand to his head. His skin burned her.

"You need the hospital wing!"

"No!" he snapped.

She looked at him puzzled.

"No. Dumbledore-"

"You want me to get Dumbledore?"

"No!"

"I don't understand what you need Severus."

"I will live", he managed to groan.

"Maybe not if you have an infection!"

Snape muttered something under his breath and turned his trembling body so that his back was to her. Hermione grabbed the thick woolen blanket she'd been using to cover herself and draped it over him. She uttered a heating charm, above his chest and in spite of the severity of the situation, she was proud of herself as his shaking body started to still. He was able to speak more clearly then, but he kept his back firmly to her.

"I don't want to see Pomfrey, because I don't want to see Dumbledore."

"Why?" she asked, unable to keep the judgment from her voice.

"Because I don't", he snapped. "Get in."

"What?"

"Get in the fucking bed, Granger", he said. "I'm sick of seeing you crumpled up into that little chair, so unless you're going to transfigure yourself a bed, get the fuck in. Just keep your back to me".

"Erm, I don't-"

"Get in or get out!"

She pulled open the sheets. Severus lay bare underneath. Lumos highlighted the plains of his back. His shoulder blades were sharp edges that jutted against the pale skin. She caught herself, but not before Snape did.

"Get in" he said, but to her surprise his voice was gentle and she thought she caught the tail end of a chuckle.

She climbed in next to him and felt the warmth of the heating charm. She leant back into it, in turn leaning into his body.

Severus tossed in his sleep, caught between hot flashes and chills. Hermione rolled onto her back in an attempt to make herself more comfortable. A pang of panic hit her when she realised that he had kicked the blankets from his body, leaving him exposed before her. Her panic quickly turned to delight as she took in the sight of him. All of him. She looked for longer than she should, she knew, but she couldn't help herself. She looked up then, to make certain that he was asleep; afraid and electrified at the prospect of being caught in this act. His eyes were tight shut. Even in his sleep he scowled, as if the worried lines in his face were so deeply ingrained that in a relaxed state, his face naturally fell to where it was most comfortable.

It was funny, she thought, that she had looked at his face so many times before - every day for the last few months - and never noticed that she really liked what she saw. Of course, she had begun to found him less severe than she'd anticipated- almost charming. She had learned that he was interesting and, on occasion, sympathetic and generous. His sarcastic wit, she had come to appreciate, as being truly funny. She had found him unintentionally inviting. She had considered what he might look like under all the black cloth. She had thought about him. It had been his manner though, that had intrigued her, never his looks. Yet as she took in his harsh features, she realised that 'harsh' meant strong. In this light, as he slept, 'strong' meant striking. Almost, she thought, beautiful. She remembered the light in the darkness of his eyes the first time she saw him smile. Yes, he is quite remarkable.

Severus' eyes fluttered open, almost as if he had heard her thoughts. Was he such an accomplished Legilimens that he could read minds in his sleep? His eyebrows shot up and his mouth dropped open. He was frozen on the bed, aware of his nakedness. Hermione felt a flush of guilt and kept her eyes locked on his, blinking rapidly, and faking a yawn, willing it to seem as though she too had only just awoken.

"You okay?" she asked, with a voice that she was grateful to find was steady - but suitably dry with fatigue - and broke their silence.

Severus nodded, and pulled the sheets over his body, without dropping his gaze. Once the moment had passed, they both lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling. She felt his hand drop to her side- his fingers inadvertently grazed hers.

"How are you feeling? You look much better."

"Awful", he said "but yes, ultimately better than last night."

"I'm glad. The healing potion seems to have done its job."

"Yes."

Hermione put her hand again close to his, expecting him to snatch away. Instead he took her hand in his and spoke with peculiar sincerity.
"Thank you. I am grateful for what you did."

She didn't know why she did it, but Hermione rested her head on Snape's shoulder. He let out a sigh that sounded part exasperated, part pleased. She chose to focus on the latter. Hermione fell asleep as she was, and woke hours later with Severus still beside her. She rolled onto her side and looked at him, surprised to see that he was awake.

"Good morning" he said, and then scowled. "Could I have my arm back?"

Hermione blushed and detached herself from Severus. He stepped out of his bed, wrapping himself in the blanket and Hermione made a show of averting her eyes. She had to fight to keep her thoughts clean and her focus on the ceiling. She ran her tongue across her teeth, one by one, and counted them; anything to keep her distracted while he dressed.

"Are you staying for breakfast?" he asked, as he buttoned his trousers.

"If you'd like?"

"'Like' is strong", he said, "but I could grin and bear it."

Hermione pelted towards the crumbling body of Severus Snape and she guided him into his rooms, allowing him to care for himself as she had before. She felt the brutal despair of the situation wrap itself around her body as though it was a physical force, constricting her, like a straight jacket.

"What the fuck is happening?" she demanded.

"Stop!"

"Tell me why you come back here every night looking like you've been in a fight with a wild animal!"

"Lestrange is a wild animal!" he yelled, clutching his stomach.

"Let me see" she said.

"Don't touch me!"

"Severus?"

"Please" he begged "don't touch me. I couldn't take it-".

Hermione pulled her hands away.
"Tell me what happened?" she whispered.

He touched his head with his fingers. When he pulled them away they were stained with blood but Hermione couldn't see from where he was bleeding due to his thick mess of black hair. He slumped into the armchair and sighed.

"Dumbledore asked me to try to get closer to Bellatrix. I have."

"So these cursed wounds are just friendly fire then?" she said, with a sarcastic tone that reminded her of Severus himself.

"Pah! Bellatrix does not want my friendship."

"What does she want then?"

"I don't know exactly."

She frowned.
"Yes you do."

Severus sighed.
"Quite" he said reluctantly.

He arranged his body in armchair, and rolled his neck with a wince. He held his wand aloft and sang as he had before, the counter curse to Sectumsempra. When his pained look of anguish dissipated, he looked at her, and seemed to have decided on the truth.

"You are right... I do know what Bellatrix wants."

"Which is what?"

"Well... of late she has wanted... err... me."

Hermione moved closer to Snape and shifted her feet. She couldn't explain the flash of green fire that beckoned her with a long finger. She was jealous of Bellatrix now, of all bloody people? What in the world was happening to her?

"So, she likes you?" she asked, with a false calm.

"Gods no! She wants me, not because she is attracted to me. Nothing so preposterous! She wants me because she is bored. And I imagine, because she wants to prove that she can have anything, or anyone, she chooses. It makes her feel powerful. I refused, of course. I have refused these last few nights."

"She's made her intentions clear then, I assume?"

"Yes. She intends to be my first..."

"Your first what?"

Comprehension dawned on her. Hermione lifted her head. Her lips parted, and she mouthed "Your first?"

He nodded.

"You first, ever... romantic partner...?" she said, grimacing as she did.

Snape scoffed.
"I doubt there will be much romance."

"But... how?"

"Excuse me?"

"How could you be a-"

"You know that I have been in love with the same woman all my life."

"I know, but... bloody hell!"

He scowled.
"Don't you judge me!"

"I'm not."

His scowl deepened.

"I'm not. I promise, I'm not", she said. "It's just... surprising."

He let out an exasperated puff of air and rolled his eyes at her.

"Oh, sod off!" Hermione said with an air of nonchalance she didn't really feel. "So what do you intend to do about it?"

"I intend to let her."

Hermione felt the warmth fall from her face; her stomach tied itself in knots.
"Oh Gods, Severus!"

"It is the only way. She wants me, I want the cup. Win-win."

"I'd hardly call it a win... unless you... want... to?"

Snape's eyes grew furious.

"Of course I don't want to, Hermione. Fucking hell!"

Severus' gaze fell to the floor.
"I'm sorry... that was rude..."

He cleared his throat, as if readying himself to say something. Hermione felt a lump form in her throat but she couldn't place the origin of her... fear? She wondered. No, not fear. Anticipation.

"Hermione, if you repeat what I am about to tell you, I will vehemently deny it."

"Okay?"

"... I'm scared. I categorically do not want to return there."

Her knotted stomach dropped. Hermione put her hand on his chest.
"Don't then! Don't go back!"

He rolled his eyes again and Hermione felt a bite of irritation.

"Severus, please!"

"I have to return. I have to get the fucking cup!"

"Can't someone else go?"

"Who would you suggest, Hermione? Who would you send? Who else is stupid enough to walk willingly into the lion's den?"

"Snake pit" Hermione corrected.

Severus chuckled in spite of himself.
"I have to go, Hermione."

"I hate this."

"As do I."

"Do you have to, you know, be with her? Isn't there another way?"

"I'm afraid if I don't... go to her willingly, so to speak..." he shuffled in his chair and recoiled. "I'm afraid that if I don't give her what she wants, that she will snatch it like a thief. I may as well let her have it... me. It will be easier that way."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. She dropped her head into her hands but not quick enough. The tangles of her hair fell over her face but Severus had seen her tears. She could see it in the draw of his eyebrows, and the downward twitch in his lips.
"How do you do it?" she asked.

Severus tilted his head.
"Do what, Hermione?"

"How can you be okay with this?"

"I'm not. It's not okay" Severus said, and shifted a lock of her hair so he could see her face. "None of this is okay. But there is no other way."

"It was hard enough to be okay with you meeting with You Know Who, but this feels so much worse, Severus?"

"Does it?" he asked, "The Dark Lord is not exactly kind. He hurts us. He tortures us. He assaults us. Even those who are his followers; even his most trusted... I don't know that this is so much worse, Hermione."

She looked at him, both their faces ashen. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her robe.
"I'm sorry."

Snape's face softened.
"Whatever for?"

"I'm being ridiculous" she said

"Yes, but I have become quite accustomed to your ridiculousness, if not fond of it."

She smiled, straightened up and caught a glimpse of herself in Snape's looking glass. She shuddered.
"Oh God. I look ghastly."

"Nonsense. You are quite lovely."

His eyes narrowed as though he regretted his words; Hermione on the other hand felt the swell of excitement in her stomach. Severus looked at himself in the glass and shook his head.

"I'm afraid that the same cannot be said for me, as I have a face that only a mother could love, and alas, even she did not bother."

He chuckled, but Hermione's eyes were serious.
"A face to strike fear into young children" he said.

"Rubbish!"

"No, truly. I have a classroom of first years who will confirm it."

Hermione laughed.
"It's not your face that's terrifying. You're quite striking, really."

"Striking like lightning?" he asked.

"Ha! No. Striking like... strong and-" she paused, considering. "And handsome..."

She felt her cheeks redden.

"You flatter me." he said, "You lie, but I appreciate it nonetheless"

"I'm not ly-"

"I know what I am, Hermione."

She looked at him- his black eyes glistened and she felt a stab of longing. He patted her gently on the shoulder. She couldn't explain the impulse that overcame her but she surrendered to it. She leaned in and made to kiss him. He pulled himself away from her as though she was scalding hot, and her lips clumsily met his cheek.

"Granger!"

The use of her surname wasn't lost on her. He was distancing himself. She was desperate to bridge the gap. She wanted to tell him, show him, that he was desirable. She wanted him to show her that she too could feel loved. Loved by someone who saw her for everything she could be, not just who she had been. The misery of his situation throbbed. He was visibly heavy with the weight of it. She wanted to take it away. She wanted him to take her away. They could escape it together. She moved again to kiss him; he caught it, reciprocating just for a moment, deep and desperate. Then, just as quickly, just as before, he pulled away.

"Don't!" he snapped. "Now you really are being ridiculous."

His voice came sharp and cut deeper than Sectumsempra. She covered her mouth with her hand, as though she could hide the evidence of her crime. Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to another, and began to pick at her nail bed as she gazed at him. She searched his face for a trace of enjoyment but he stared at her in return, with nothing short of abject horror.

"I should go" she said, as her body drew heavy with shame.

"Hermione?"

"No, you're right. Oh Gods, I'm ridiculous. Sorry. I'm so sorry."

And with a heavy thud of a closing door, she was gone.