AN: This chapter was much darker, but I reworked it so it was a little lighter because I know that you want Severus to be happy. I do too, I swear. But not just yet. Sorry in advance, hahaha don't hate me.

12. NOVEMBER

Hermione and Severus ate breakfast in near silence. He had hardly uttered a word to her since they had woken. She couldn't settle on one of the million questions she wanted to ask him, and so she said nothing. There was one, however, that burned beneath her skin and she ached to release it- four words that would free her from the agony. But she couldn't ask it- she couldn't bring herself to say them.

Did you do it?

She knew the answer. He had been with her. Hermione didn't want, nor did she need the details. The idea of sharing Severus with someone else was hard enough but when coupled with the fact that she was sharing him against his wishes, and with a woman so foul she was hardly human, was almost too much to handle. She wanted to afford him the opportunity to talk about it, yet she couldn't work up the courage. She considered what else she might ask. She eventually settled on the only question that really mattered.

"Are you okay?"

Severus considered this.
"I think so, yes."

She decided to be brave, but not too brave. She was a smart woman after all, and Severus was to be handled delicately.
"Would you like to talk about it?"

She knew his answer before he gave it.
"No."

"Okay. Did you find the cup?"

Severus nodded, and Hermione squealed with triumph. It had been worth it, she thought. However Severus' scowl dampened her spirits.
"I was unable to retrieve it."

"You left it there?"

"Yes. I left it there", he said coldly. "I couldn't take it. I didn't have the opportunity."

Hermione felt a spasm like a punch to her stomach.
"What happened?"

"I told you I didn't want to talk about it."

"I know, I'm sorry, I just want to understand. I thought the whole reason you went to her and... offered yourself to her was-"

Severus' face flashed with the deepest shame and his voice bellowed out like the cry of a wounded animal.
"Don't speak of it!"

Hermione dropped her hand to his knee, and tried not to be hurt that he recoiled under her touch.

"You might not want to talk about it, Severus, but if you can manage to for just a moment, I need to know."

"I know you do, but I can hardly fathom it, Hermione, so forgive me for not wanting to re-live it now."

"Okay" she breathed.

Severus sighed and spoke plainly.

"In short, she does not trust me. I thought that she would let her guard down but she did not. She spelled the room shut. I could not apparate; so I could not leave. Not until she willed it. When she left me unattended, she bound my hands, and took my wand... When she went downstairs, she petrified me."

"So, it was for nothing?"

"Not quite. I know where the cup is now, and I know what it looks like. I spied it when we first..."

Severus trailed off and his gaze fell to his lap.

"When you first... what?" she asked.

He flashed a burning hot red.
"I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT, HERMIONE!"

Hermione's eyes widened, her lips parted ready to protest. Instead she tried for empathy. He had been through something terrible and she could not even begin to understand even if he told her in excruciating detail. She could help ease his pain by being there for him. That was what she could do.

"Okay."

It's not okay. Nothing about any of this is okay. I hate this. I can't take it. I don't have the strength to do this. How am I supposed to support you when you won't even tell me what's happening?

Severus clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes to her. She felt as though pricked with hot needles under his stare. He lifted his hands to her face and parted his lips with his thumb.

"Take off your clothes" he said and began to unfasten his robes.

"We're in the middle of breakfast," Hermione said with an uncertain laugh.

"I'm not hungry."

Severus got up from the table and stood before her. He stretched his hand out for her to take it, and pulled her to her feet. He bore down on Hermione, taking her mouth in his. He ran his fingers through her hair and then clutched the back of her neck, greedily. Hermione threw her head back on the chair as he pushed aside her dressing gown and she surrendered to his will.

Hermione hunched over Severus' desk and stared at the collection of tattered parchments in front of her. There were recipes and passages and methods - some of Severus' and some of her own. She was just out of bed at ten to eleven and Severus was nowhere to be seen. He was an early riser, even on the weekend. He didn't need to set an alarm - muggle or magical - he rose naturally at 6 o'clock every morning without fail. It was almost ritualistic. He woke up, waking her in the process, made his side of the bed with a tight tuck, shaved, and brushed his teeth. Then he sat at the window with the book he had been reading the night before. One chapter, each morning; one at night. Next he would leave the room and walk the grounds until breakfast. It still irritated her now, even after two weeks of almost constant companionship. His rituals were for one. There was no room for Hermione. A couple of times when she had not managed to fall back to sleep, she had joined him on his walks around the grounds; it was not a walk, it was a patrol. She didn't bother to accompany him a third time.

She thought that perhaps she could get used to some of his other rituals though. Breakfast in his quarters and evenings listening to the radio out on the top floor balcony. He took a shower every weekday morning and a bath in the evening on weekends. He always asked her to join him. More often than not, she did. He would always be with her when he could, which reassured her. Sometimes he was called away to The Dark Lord's side; then she worried endlessly. Other times he was called to Dumbledore, which didn't bring her much comfort either.

His temper was uneven. Sometimes he would storm into the room in a furious whirlwind, snatch her from where she stood or sat or lay and he would carry her to the shower or bath - depending on what day it was - and he would kiss her, seek her out; fuck her, then carry on with his ritual for one. Other days he would approach her with gentle kisses, hold her hand, lay her gently on his bed and make love to her. Either way he would ask to be shown that she wanted him; he always needed to be shown. He was unknowable and unpredictable. In more tender moments, he would come to her, crawl beside her and they would simply hold each other, without expectation or pretense.

Sometimes he excited her, and other times, if she would dare to admit it, he troubled her. Always he amazed her. She clung to the moments of tenderness and clutched them to her chest.

Monday Morning

Hermione ran her hands across the vial of a potentially brilliant healing draught. She needed to figure out the potency, but otherwise it was almost ready to go. She was beginning to understand ways to improve her recipes without altering their properties, and she was also coming to learn how to speed up the stewing time. She had thought originally that she might need to use different ingredients for each potion, but an off-hand comment from Severus about antidotes had encouraged her. It might be much easier than that. If an Antidote to Common Poisons potion could treat such an array of ailments, of differing severities - animal and chemical - then surely there could be a standard potion or an ingredient that could be used in each draught to decrease stewing time. It really shouldn't be so difficult, she thought, but it was. Neither she, Severus nor Slughorn could figure it out, and time was of the essence.

Hermione lay on the bed with her knees hitched up. She rested a book in her lap and mindlessly flicked through the pages. She could hardly take in a word of it. Her mind wrestled with healing potions and upcoming wars and missing her friends. She had Lavender, Katie and Susan and they were wonderful, but life was not the same on the outside of the Golden Trio. She wondered what Harry and Ginny were doing at that moment, but she tripped over her thoughts as they fell out of her head when the bathroom door opened. Severus walked tall with his shirt half buttoned and his belt slung open and unfastened. The cotton crinkled over his chest and his damp hair feathered to his shoulders. She looked at him with hungry eyes and he gave a muted chuckle.

"I had planned on reading", he said raising an eyebrow.

"Read after."

Monday Evening

"I missed you today", Severus said, as he pulled the cover aside and climbed into the bed beside her.

"You did?"

"I miss you often, in fact."

"You do?!"

Severus' low and lovely laugh took Hermione's fear, and wrapped it tightly in golden cloth, warming her; protecting her from the sting of its frozen intensity. He kissed her on the forehead and tucked her hair behind her ear so that he could see her face.

"This room is a refuge, and you are my sanctuary. No matter what atrocities I face out there, I know that I will be safe and at peace in here. With you."

Tuesday Morning

Hermione and Slughorn worked tirelessly in between classes on antidotes and antivenoms. Snape had mentioned Nagini one morning in passing and it had struck her. Arthur had nearly died in her fifth year when he was attacked by the snake. He had been found in the nick of time and it had taken numerous healers weeks to cure him. If Nagini were to attack at the battle, there would be no time - they wouldn't have weeks. There too was the problem that there was a limited supply of capable healers. Dumbledore had only managed to secure two for The Order, from St. Mungo's. As such it would be up to hospital staff at Hogwarts to cure these wounds. Poppy Pomfrey was a formidable nurse, but she was one single woman. Even with Lavender, Katie, Susan and the two young wizards that Hermione had yet to be introduced to, at her side, she would surely stumble at such a hurdle.

Severus moved into the Potions classroom, his arms laden with a stack of books, his wand between his fingers underneath. Behind him followed more textbooks that hovered. He dropped the books on the desk and with a flick of his wand, some twenty five more books sailed into the room and landed next to the others.

"I think you will find something of use in one of these?"

"Severus!" Slughorn snorted. "This is preposterous. You couldn't narrow them down to one or two?"

"My apologies, Horace, I don't have the time this morning, but I figured you and Granger could get through some. I could join you after fifth period? I might be able to spare an hour?"

"Don't worry about it", Hermione said softly. "We'll manage."

"I have no doubt."

Tuesday Evening

The cold air tugged at Hermione's bones and nibbled at her skin until it was all gooseflesh. She loved November - the world draped in its autumn blanket of burnt oranges and rusty gold. It meant woolly jumpers and thick scarves and toffee apples and fireworks. She stood out on the balcony and watched the sun set. The wind wrapped itself around her and billowed through her clothes. Severus approached with a glass of wine in each hand and handed her one. She took a sip and leant back into his strong frame behind her, as he placed his arm around her waist and kissed the crown of her head. They stood together in silence and enjoyed the low bustle from the grounds below, as the sky broke to a Prussian blue. Severus turned Hermione around to face him and placed one hand on the dimples in the small of her back. He took her hand in his other and he cradled her as though they were dancing. The grounds fell silent, and neither lifted a foot, but there was music between them.

Wednesday Morning

"I'm almost content, Hermione. I can hardly believe it, but I am. Here with you, I am almost... happy."

"I'm happy here with you. You make me happy."

"I want to see."

He took his wand from the nightstand.

"May I?"

Wednesday Evening

The door swung open and Hermione jumped with a start. Severus tore his cloak from his back and left it in a crumpled heap on the floor. His eyes were jet black and his stare was cold. Hermione felt herself physically recoil and tried to make herself smaller in his armchair. He snatched off his belt and threw it with his cloak. He sat before his desk and grumbled under his breath. He began to look for something, and having not located it in the twelve seconds he had searched, he swept his hands across the desk and flung all the papers to the floor. He roared and slumped back in his chair. Hermione felt her blood run to her limbs - to her fists, if she chose to fight, and to her feet if she chose to run.

She chose to stay. She would always stay.

For the first time she found herself wondering if perhaps it wasn't healthy that she she'd frozen stiff in the presence of the man she... cared for? loved? liked a whole bunch? She didn't know how she felt anymore. He had yet to be cruel to her, but he was so often morose, that he would be ill-tempered around her in this way and she wasn't sure that she was handling it very well. She had chosen ignorance for the most part. She watched him from the sanctuary of her chair and hoped not to stir him. Eventually she saw his body physically unlock and she felt her limbs release their tension in kind.

He sank to his knees and collected the papers. Some of them were hers, she realised. He sorted them and stacked her work neatly in a pile.
"I'm sorry I left my stuff everywhere", she offered. "I know I made a mess."

He snapped round to face her as though he hadn't known she'd been there.
"No, don't be", he said in a soothing tone, "you are as welcome to make your mess here as I am."

Hermione pulled herself out of the chair and approached Severus cautiously. He held his arms out to bring her into his embrace.

"I've had a bad day."

"Bella or You Know Who?"

"The Dark Lord. Stop calling him 'You Know Who'!"

"I'll stop calling him 'You Know Who' when you stop calling him 'The Dark Lord'. Now, would you like to talk about it?" she asked.

She knew already what his answer would be. The only mystery was at what volume he would make his distaste known.

"Nope... I'm going to bed."

"Okay."

"You're coming too, yes?" he said, nodding.

I'm so tired. I have waited for you all night. I just want to sleep. God you look good, though. I suppose I can sleep later.

"Okay."

"Do you want to face me, or the wall?"

Whichever will make you finish faster, I have classes first thing.

"Whichever you prefer" she said. "You'll need your wand, I suppose?"

"Yes. Show me you want me."

Thursday Morning

Hermione could smell Bellatrix the minute Severus walked through the door. He kicked his boots off and shuddered.

"You've been with her again, haven't you?"

"I'm going to take a shower. I'll leave the door unlocked so you can join me."

Thursday Evening

Severus was a picture of unhappiness. When he removed his shirt she saw why. His black chest hair was thick with blood. There were lacerations up his side and what looked suspiciously like a cigar burn on his protruding collarbone.

"Who did that this time? Mr or Mrs Lestrange?" Hermione asked; her voice came in a tremor.

"Neither", Snape said, in a pathetic groan, "this is all courtesy of The Dark Lord."

"I'll get the Dittany" Hermione said, as though it was perfectly normal to have to heal your lover when he returns to you.

It had become their own version of normal.

"Talk to me?" Hermione urged gently.

Severus sat in the bath with the bloodied water up to his waist. She washed his back with a sponge in her soft hand and wrung the water back into the tub. Its pink hue knotted her stomach; she should surely be used to it by now. He leant back in the tub so that Hermione could tend to the stains on his chest.

"Please, Severus. Please talk to me?"

It was that simpering, begging tone again in her voice that irked her. She heard it all the time now. It wasn't her voice; it belonged to someone much more piteous than she. Hermione tried to even the sound until it became a voice that she recognised but each time her words left her mouth, she pressed her lips together and begged herself not to speak.

When Severus finally looked at her, she didn't like what she saw. Of all of the versions of this man she had seen, from brimming with pleasure, to crimson with anger, it was this Severus that hurt her. The shattered man; heavy with deepest sorrow.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, eventually, in such a way that she knew it aggrieved him to do so.

"You said You Know Who did this to you?"

"Yes... it's quite typical. He was angry. When he is angry, he lashes out."

"Was he angry with you?"

Severus sunk into the bath until the water played under his chin.

"Can we talk about it later?"

"Sure."

We won't talk about this later.

Hermione ached behind her ribcage. It broke her heart when he left, and it hurt further still when he returned to her in tatters. Severus lay in a pathetic lump on the bed and Hermione tended again to his wounds, ensuring that they were fully healed. He whimpered at her touch. At least he'd stopped fighting her now and he let her work. It took half the time when he cooperated. When she was happy that the cuts were fully healed an hour later, she crawled into the bed next to him and rested her head on his shoulder. He stared at the ceiling. She wondered if he even knew she was there. He lay in silence until eventually sleep wrapped its hands around him and pulled him in. Hermione watched his chest rise and she held her breath until it fell; she breathed out, as he did. She followed him, inhale for inhale - exhale for exhale - as if this act of intimacy and familiarity could bring him closer to her.

She tried to recall if they had ever had a day without heartache. It seemed they were cursed with misery. Misery had a hold on Severus and Hermione felt its claws grasping for her too. She had had her fair share of misery too, Hermione thought. Circumstance had made her strong, but the world had made Severus harsh. Some people, like Harry or Neville, come out of torment as a softer person, but those like Severus, came out freezing cold with sharp edges ready to cut anyone who got too close. Then there were those, like Tom Riddle, who had been undone so terribly by their happenstance that they were incapable of fundamental human emotion and experiences. He had become a man who would defile his so-called 'most trusted', for what? Not treachery - he wouldn't have lived - perhaps not even as punishment. Maybe... Lord Voldemort... hurt people simply to remind them that he could.

Friday Morning

"How are you feeling?"

"I feel okay. As long as you are with me, I will always be okay."

Friday Evening

Hermione kissed Severus on the cheek and grabbed her favourite overcoat from the coat rack by Snape's door.

"Where are you going?" he asked, with his eyebrows drawn together in a comically puzzled look.

"Out with the girls..."

"Which girls?"

"Lavender, Katie and Susan... I told you yesterday."

Snape nodded.
"Perhaps you did."

"Weren't you paying attention?"

"I suppose not", he drawled. "My apologies. Be good."

Hermione shot him a smile, winked at him and made for the door.

"Hermione, will you come back here or to your room?"

"Here? If that's okay?"

"Yes, fine. Try not to wake me?"

Hermione nodded and moved back towards him as he pulled out of his chair and met her half way. His face softened, and his voice followed suit.

"Unless you're in trouble... You can always wake me if you need me, you know that don't you? However, I must say that if I have to pry another balding sex pest from one of your friends, I will not be happy. If I have to pry one from you, he will not leave with his head attached to his body."

"Fair enough. I'll make sure everyone behaves themselves."

"Please do" Severus said, his voice returning to his bored drawl. "Keep an eye on Miss Brown, won't you? Oh and Hermione..."

He surveyed her; his eyes fell from her face to her waist and back up.

"... When you inevitably do wake me, I plan on tearing off whatever silly little dress you end up wearing, so don't keep me waiting too long."

Saturday Morning

"Are you finished with the paper?" Severus asked, holding a cup of coffee in his hand.

"What? Oh," she brushed sleep from the corner of her eyes. "Yes, I'm done."

He exchanged the coffee for the paper and sat beside her.

"Anything I should know about?"

"I'm not in it today, if that's what you mean? No unflattering pictures of me in a little dress this morning, I'm afraid. I told you I would behave myself."

She grinned at him and he narrowed his eyes playfully.

"Pity."

Saturday Evening

"What happened?"

Severus balled his fists and hammered his hands on the table.

"How many times have I to tell you I don't want to fucking talk about it?" he yelled.

"Don't shout at me, Severus", Hermione snapped, "I'm not your punching bag!"

Snape moved towards Hermione and pulled open his shirt.

"I know", he said, "I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you."

"I'm not your whore, either."

"Have I ever said that you are?"

Hermione clenched her jaw.
"It's not what you say, it's the way that you treat me."

"And how do I treat you?"

His voice was thick with irritation, and Hermione felt her fingers curl into her fists in response.

"Like I'm just a hole in a mattress."

He stared at her and raised an eyebrow.
"What the devil are you talking about?"

"Do you even care about me?"

"Where is this coming from? You know that I... that I..."

"You can't even bring yourself to say it."

"So what?"

"Forget it" she said.

He moved towards her with an apologetic smile that she wasn't certain was genuine. As he swept his hands down her flank she felt her resolve weaken and when he pressed his lips to her neck however, she forgot to be angry all together and melted under his touch. He pulled up her dress, moved his wandering hands between her thighs and pushed aside her knickers.

"Do you want me?" he asked.

"Yes, Severus", Hermione breathed.

"Let me see?"

Hermione met his stare defiantly.
"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm mad at you right now and I don't want you to see it. It doesn't change how I feel about you. I can't show you all the time. Sometimes you need to just let me feel how I feel, and trust that I will come back to you. Because I will always come back to you."

He rolled his eyes.

"Ugh. Fine. Get on the desk."