AN: I know that Hermione's 'Mublood' scar is an invention of the movie and not the books but I'm treating it as canon for the purposes of this story.
3. Sandalwood
S.
Severus clutched his hand to his forehead, hoping that the warmth might abate the pounding behind his eyes. It had been a long time since he'd had so much to drink. In his teens, he would pound back enough to overpower a man twice his size, but in his twenties and thirties he'd had to be far more sensible. He found it much harder to occlude when he was drunk; he could still do it, of course - he was a master Occlumens - but he had to work harder, and so he felt worse for it the morning after.
He hadn't needed to occlude last night, but perhaps he should have. His head split as though he'd been at it for hours. He rubbed his eyes, avoiding the blinding, morning light from behind the curtains. He could hardly make sense of the blurred figures in front of him. As his eyes adjusted, his gaze fell upon Granger, who sat upright on the sofa, grinning at him. He looked down at his lap and frowned at the sight of his legs, covered with a wool blanket.
"Good morning", she said, brightly.
"Is it?" he asked, massaging his temples with two fingers.
"Did you sleep okay?"
I feel rotten. How is she so cheerful?
"Do you think you could stomach breakfast?" she asked.
"Not likely."
"Okay", she said, "well, let me know when you're ready."
He placed his hands on the arms of the chair and tried to pull himself out of the chair. He felt his arms shake and give way.
"Or there're leftovers in the fridge if you want to help yourself."
God, she's like a one night stand that overstays their welcome. Just leave me alone.
"Okay, great", he said, picking the skin in the corner of his thumb.
"I'm going to get dressed. Oh, and there's shampoo and body wash under the sink", she said, with a quick smile and a slight nod.
Subtle. Do I smell that bad?
He waited for her to leave and he slumped back into his chair.
I shouldn't have had so much to drink. Everything aches. Oh shit, I really do stink.
Snape pulled his wand from deep inside his pocket and cast a quick 'Scourgify' on himself, then followed it up with a 'Turgeo', but still the smell remained.
"Are you planning on staying there all day?" Hermione asked, popping her head around the door.
Do you ever bloody leave?
"No", he said with his typical sour tone; it seemed to be losing its effect as she didn't react.
She perched on the arm of the sofa and crossed her legs.
"Well, I just wondered what your plans were. I have someone coming round in an hour."
All of the limited colour drained from Snape's face. She quizzed him with her eyes, as he straightened in his chair and his breath hitched. It took all of his energy to surge forward so that he could show her he was serious.
"Who is coming here?" he said, with all the composure he could summon.
"Don't worry. It's just a friend..."
"Nobody can know I'm here, Granger. Do you not understand that?"
His words were quick and sharp.
"What the hell were you thinking? I will be killed if anyone finds out I'm here. Is that what you want? Who is it? Potter? Weasley?"
And now my chest hurts. Is she actually trying to kill me? A curse would be faster.
She studied him with a straight face and moved towards him. He wondered what she saw.
"Hey, don't worry. You're not in any danger", she said, with a furrowed expression that revealed her concern as she crouched next to him. "It's nobody from the wizarding world."
Don't look at me like that.
"She's a girl I grew up with; a muggle. I just asked her to pick us up some things from the supermarket. She doesn't know who you are or even what we are. We're safe."
His stiff body relaxed, but still his heart hammered in his chest.
"Does she know that you have someone here with you?"
Granger's teeth grazed her lower lip and she wrinkled her nose.
"Yes. But I, er... I told her you were shy."
He covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smirk.
"I assumed you'd want to stay upstairs", she said.
"About that..."
She cocked her head.
"You can't get up?"
"I can", he said through gritted teeth. "But it..."
You're pathetic.
"... It hurts."
"How did you get down here in the first place?" she asked.
"With great difficulty."
:
H.
Hermione urged Snape into the bathroom as gentle encouragement to wash. He'd obviously tried to clean himself off, but the cleaning spells only served to remove the stains; it didn't improve his hygiene. He undressed and she sat on the toilet seat with her back to him. He left his boxers on, for which she was grateful. She had seen more than enough of the professor, she didn't need to see that part of him.
Neither said a word; the air was thick with their discomfort. She watched the rise and fall of his chest quicken and felt her fingers tingle as she helped him into the bathtub. He kept his arms tight at his side. Hermione took in the sight of the purple bruises and thick cuts on his throat that spread down his neck. Now that he was not buttoned up to his larynx, she saw that the damage spanned his collarbones and chest too. Her curious gaze swept down his torso, and she caught herself in time. She didn't dare look back at his face as she snatched the shower curtain across the bath.
"Lemmeknowwhenyoudone", she said, without so much as a breath, and with a heavy sigh of relief, she snapped the door closed behind her.
:
S.
She looked at you, said the voice like Lucius'.
What does it matter if she looked at me? I'm pathetic. Look at the state of me.
Severus sank into the bath, closed his eyes and let his head fall beneath the water. He ran his hands through his hair and a clump came free in his hand.
I'm a mess.
He took a sponge from the side of the tub and poured on the body wash to a small peak. He ran it across his chest; it was almost concave with lack of muscle, and followed his hair down to his belly. Then he moved it to his shoulder and winced as he lifted his arm to scrub his pits. He ran the sponge down to his forearm and studied the Dark Mark.
It's fading.
It's fading?!
The brand on his arm did not pulse as it had before. It was still very much visible, but it was not inky black - it was a dull grey, thicker and less crisp - like a long healed tattoo.
He is weakened... or he's...
It wasn't possible.
Have they won? Has Potter actually done it?
"Granger!"
She slammed into the bathroom as though she'd been lurking outside. And he felt shame's cold snap at his stomach. He thrust his arm out of the tub and she took it in her hands, staring at the mark, tracing the snake with her middle finger.
"Does it always look like this?" she asked.
"You've never seen one?"
When would she have seen one, you dolt?
Shut up, Lucius.
"No", he said, and he cracked a smile, "it doesn't."
:
H.
He smiled.
"So he's dead?" she asked.
"It faded a little each time a Horcrux was destroyed. It also looked like this when he disappeared eighteen years ago."
"Then we can go back!" she said.
It's over.
"Maybe..."
Snape's mouth closed and he was quiet.
"Snape?"
"Mmm", he said, but he didn't meet her eyes, staring at the bathroom tile.
"What's wrong?"
He snapped back to attention and scowled.
"Well... I'm in my altogether and you're just standing there", he said, coldly. "Help me out, or piss off."
Arsehole.
"Fine! Here", she said, extending her arm so that he could take it and she pulled him out of the tub. She took a towel from the rail and bundled it into his arms. He narrowed his eyebrows and jutted his chin towards the door.
"You're welcome", she said, allowing her frustration to seep through her words, and she slammed the door behind her.
Ugh! He's infuriating. Just when you think you're getting somewhere...
Hermione stepped into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. Voldemort was defeated, she knew it. If Snape's mark had faded because they had destroyed the snake then he was all but finished. If it faded because he had She could get back to Ron and Harry.
God knows what they think happened to me. What if they think I'm dead?
A pounding at the front door drew Hermione's attention downstairs.
She's early. Really early. That's not like her.
Hermione moved out of the bedroom and stepped onto the landing. As she moved past the bathroom, she was tugged backwards and pulled inside. She parted her lips, ready to shout out her disapproval, but Snape placed his hand across her mouth. She felt his breath in her ear before he spoke.
"It's not your friend", he said; his voice leaked his fear. "There are three of them - wizards."
Her fingers twitched as though to tremble, threatening to drop her wand. He moved his hand from her mouth and held his arm protectively in front of her, as the latch of the front door unlocked, and it opened. She tightened her grip on her wand, determined not to be frightened into inaction, as Snape cast 'Muffliato' followed by an invisibility charm. She moved to lock the door, but Snape took her hand away, holding it tight in his and shook his head.
"If they try the door and it is locked", he whispered, "they will know we are in here. Don't be thick."
"Sorry".
I let my guard down. I thought it was over. It's fine. It's over.
She repeated it in her mind, as a mantra of comfort.
It's over. It's over. It's fine. It's over.
Severus stood in front of her, shielding her from the intruders. His trousers hung, unfastened around his hips and his half-buttoned shirt looked as though it had been hastily thrown across his back. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and there was a silvery pink scar on the inside of his right forearm. Her chest ached at its familiarity.
Is that...? It can't be.
She made to ask her question but he held a finger in front of his lips, demanding her silence, in spite of the Muffliato charm, as footfall approached on the stairs. Whether or not they meant to do them harm, neither knew. Snape met her eyes, and they softened. Her heart rattled and she was grateful that her ribs caged it. She could hear its thumping cry.
Can he hear it too?
Snape dropped his hand and ran his fingers across the back of her wrist. She didn't realise that he meant it as a gesture of comfort until he gave a small smile, with pressed lips, and then mouthed. 'It's okay.'
And he was right, it was okay, because then the wizards began to call out. Hermione's heart burst free of its cage as she recognised the voices.
"It's Ron", she said, excitedly and split the silence. "It's fine, it's Ron!"
"No. You can't be sure", he said, his eyes wide. "Don't risk it!"
"That's Ron", Hermione said again. "I'd know his voice anywhere."
A second voice rose up the stairs.
"Hermione? Are you here?" it yelled, frantically.
"That's Percy", she said. "We're safe. Come on."
Snape's body stiffened and he held his hand flat against the door.
"No! Listen to me", he hissed. "This is what Death Eaters do. We lure you out of hiding. By the time you realise that the person you are looking at is not your loved one, it is too late. Please, do not risk it!"
"Hermione?!" Ron shouted, and his voice trembled. "Where the bloody hell are you?"
I'm here! I'm up here!
"She's obviously not here, Ron", came Bill's voice in response.
"I need to let them know I'm okay", Hermione urged. "Please."
Snape dropped his head into his hand and rubbed his face. She moved closer to the door and he stepped into the way so that his back was flat against the door. He met her eyes, and she saw that he was terrified.
"I am begging you", he said. "Do not go out there."
"Come on, Ron", Percy said. "Let's check The Burrow again."
"Snape. Please? Let me go to them."
He raised his hands in the air and stepped away from the door, and as he sat on the edge of the bath his whole body drooped. He was defeated. She had her fist tight around the handle, but her hand did not move.
What if he's right? What if it's a trap? Even if it's not, he's not ready to go back into the open. Look at him. He needs you.
And then comprehension drew on Hermione and her whole body responded with an ache of sadness. If The Dark Lord had won, he was a marked man. And if Harry had won, he faced a lifetime in Azkaban.
There is no world for Snape outside these walls. Victory or defeat. He loses.
Hermione dropped her hand and sat beside Snape. She rested her elbows on her knees and covered her face.
"Fuck's sake", she whispered.
:
S.
Why did she do that?
Severus stared at the girl and tried to make sense of what she had done. He could simply have asked her, he knew, but he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.
She pities you.
They waited in silence for the Weasleys to leave and Severus let out a breath of relief when the door slammed behind them. Granger immediately stood to her feet and exited the bathroom without saying a word. He was grateful. After all, what would he say?
He stood before the sink and opened the cabinet above in search of a razor. He closed the mirrored doors and stared at himself in the glass, still surprised by the way the skin beside his eyes crinkled and how the lines furrowed into his brow. He wasn't all that old - only thirty-eight - yet somehow he felt as though he'd lived a lifetime.
The prickle of black hairs across his chin felt out of place. He was usually such a stickler for presentation, but here in Granger's home, there was hardly need to look smart. He quite liked the change in his face. It helped to distinguish between before and after - then and now - and he was desperate for the distinction. He put the razor back into its pot and closed the cabinet with a satisfying click.
It was amazing what a bath could do. All of his muscles had relaxed and he found it much easier to move around. He was still weak, and the pain remained to remind him what his body had been through over the last few months, but he felt more able - almost liberated. As he stepped out of the bathroom, he saw a flicker of blue light in the corner of his eye and as he turned to inspect it, a silver otter burst from Granger's room and scampered by him.
No?! She wouldn't.
He pushed opened the door to her bedroom without knocking and stared at the back of her head.
"Tell me you fucking didn't?" he said.
She didn't turn to look at him.
"A Patronus!? Are you serious?"
"What of it?" she said, wrapping her arms around herself.
"Who did you send it to?"
"It's none of your business!"
He stalked into the room and turned her to face him; he tried not to be rough, tried to stay calm, but his angry hands snatched at her shoulder.
"It absolutely is my business. Who did you send it to? Weasley?"
She stared at the floor and gave a half shrug.
Calm down. Take a breath. Don't frighten her.
"Granger, look at me, please. This is serious. Who did you send it to? What did you say?"
She raised her head slowly and met his gaze with defiance.
"I let my boyfriend know I was safe, okay? Is that so awful?"
Oh God. OH MY GOD. I'm dead.
"Yes", he said, with a deep, calming breath. "Yes, it's awful. It could be intercepted."
"They wouldn't be here if the battle wasn't over, would they? They would still be there fighting. And you said it yourself, he's gone. Jesus, you're so paranoid!"
He stood up to full height, towering over her.
"It's not paranoia, it's sense! I'm trying to keep myself... us both... alive! And you have just undone it all! Even if the Dark Lord is dead, which is hardly likely given that the bastard can't die."
He pinched the bridge of his nose and took another deep breath through his nose, as she sat on the edge of her bed.
"We destroyed the Horcruxes", she said. "Only the snake was left."
They found the diadem? No, that's not the point!
"Did you tell them I was here?"
"What?" she asked.
Don't feign ignorance, it doesn't suit you.
"Did you tell Weasley that you were with me?" he said, articulating every word, as though speaking to someone very young or very stupid, unsure which afflicted her most - youth or stupidity. "Did you tell your little boyfriend that I was alive?"
"I trust Ron with my life. He won't tell anybody."
I'm a dead man.
"Fuck!" he spat. "How could you?! Fuck you! Fuck!"
"Fuck you!" she retorted, squaring her shoulders and raising her finger in irritation. "I brought you here to keep you safe and all you've done is complain. All you've been is miserable! He was worried about me. I'm sorry if you can't understand that since I'm sure nobody cares whether you live or die, but that-"
Wow. Well then.
Her hand flew to her mouth, which fell agape and her eyes flew open, wild and terrified.
"I'm so sorry", she said. "I didn't mean... Shit, I'm sorry."
Is she right? Is anyone even looking for me?
"Don't be", he said, and he did not need to force his composure for he was stock-still. "You're right. Perhaps nobody cares if I live, but there are plenty of people who want to see me dead. Such is the life I have lived."
"Snape... I didn't mean it like that."
"You did", he said. "You meant it exactly like that. Thank you."
Thank you for freeing me of the ridiculous notion that, against all sense, you actually cared for me.
:
H.
"Snape, where are you going? Stop!"
He moved swiftly into the guest bedroom and shut the door behind him. She reached for the door handle and snatched her hand away with a jolt as it burned her to touch.
"Very nice", she said. "Go on and sulk. I'll be downstairs when you're ready."
He didn't take the bait.
It would have worked with Ron.
Ron's terrier Patronus bounded into the living room an hour or so later. His voice spoke, excited and relieved that she was safe and well, but obviously irritated that she had ducked out on them without word. She shot back her silver otter with an apology, flopped miserably onto the sofa and pulled the blanket over her legs. She switched on the television and mindlessly watched a movie. It was hard to follow the story given that she had started it part way through and her mind was elsewhere. Her mind was with him. She couldn't shake the look on his face - behind the wall of his anger at her betrayal, there was grief caused by her words.
And what did he mean? 'Thank you' for what?
She allowed her mind to wander, and found herself deep in thoughts of him; the vulnerable and soft moments. His arm flung before her chest in protection. The warmth of his breath in her ear. Running her fingers across his mark, surprised by how comfortable it felt to touch him. The buzz of electricity across her skin, as his hand touched her wrist. How he smiled at her. Him. Damp and dishevelled, smelling like sandalwood and citrus; his wet hair, lank across his shoulders, softening the cotton of his white shirt so that his fair skin was just visible beneath.
No. You can't think about him like that.
Hermione waited up on the sofa for Snape to reappear, but he stayed in his room for the rest of the evening. Ron's terrier returned back and forth with news of the battle, and Hermione was pleased to know that everything had gone according to plan; a plan she didn't even know she played a part in. But it was over, Voldemort was dead.
Bellatrix is dead.
She rolled up the sleeve of her cable knit jumper and ran her fingers across the word etched into her skin as a permanent reminder of who she was.
Mudblood.
She opened her eyes wide, taking a deep breath, and warded off the panic that rose in her chest whenever she thought about Bellatrix. If she closed her eyes for even a second when she felt this way, she would find herself back at Malfoy Manor, bloodied and screaming on the cold, marble floor.
She stared into the bright light of the living room, grateful to be grounded and safe, here in her childhood home. Grateful too that there was a man right upstairs who would put himself between her and anyone who might do her harm. Grateful to have seen a different side to Severus Snape, even if it only came in snapshots and echoes. She was grateful that he existed at all, because contrary to what she had said, somebody did care whether he lived or died. Somebody cared very much, in fact.
As she traced the shapes that formed her scar, she thought about Severus and the scar he held secretly on the inside of his own arm; the one he kept tight to his chest. Not the one that he had chosen to take as proof of his loyalty, but the one he'd had no choice in. She couldn't be certain of course, but she thought that she had seen letters among the carnage; a mirror of her own shameful, little souvenir from a run in with a Death Eater. Was his courtesy of her too? Or perhaps The Dark Lord himself? And what did it say? What was his crime?
I, Hermione Granger, am I Mudblood. But who is he?