Two Weeks Later

Hermione sat, her legs folded in her usual wooden chair, surrounded by the golden afternoon light streaming in the window. She glanced up from her page to the hills outside. The scorch marks that had marred the familiar grounds had been reseeded months before, so now the green was seamless to even the most astute observer. As the warmth persuaded her to remove her jumper, she wondered if opening the glass would disturb Professor Snape's nap. She decided not to risk it. He tended to wake at the smallest sound; she let herself sigh silently and hoped, once again, a time would come when he would feel safe enough to sleep heavily.

She shifted away from the lazy sunshine, turning towards her former professor lying prone on the bed, and allowed herself a small smile. The past two weeks had been, well, lovely. In those weeks, she'd spent almost all of her afternoons in this bright room rather than dreary Grimmauld Place, mostly reading or simply sitting with him as he rested. When they did converse, she found she enjoyed his wry sense of humor more than she could have imagined; it matched her own perfectly. She adored his wit and respected his intellect. And now that it seemed like, well, a weight had been lifted from him, he was certainly more receptive to her and her insufferable-know-it-all-ness. She supposed knowing one was free from insane master just might make one feel like that.

In the last two weeks, there had been blissfully long afternoons when Hermione would read for an hour or more while Professor Snape lay awake on the white linens of the bed, listening with his eyes closed. There had been blissfully long afternoons when Hermione had arrived while he had still been sleeping, and she found that she enjoyed those days just as much, if not more; she felt a certain inexplicable possessiveness of him, as if she were the only one qualified to watch over him while he recuperated.

Today had been one of the afternoons that Professor Snape had been asleep when Hermione had arrived. She had softly arranged herself in the wooden chair and glanced over at him to make sure the sound of lowering her book bag to the floor hadn't woken him, then settled down and opened her book. Now it was more than an hour later and fresh air and green beckoned through the glass. He began to stir.

"You didn't have to stay, Miss Granger," he said as he opened his eyes and turned their infinite darkness towards her.

Hermione smiled softly at his customary response to discovering her in his room when he awoke. "I said I would be here," she said simply, "so I am." She saw something unreadable spark in those dark eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared. Gratitude, maybe? She raised an eyebrow and added the best mimic of a Snape-smirk she could muster. "Not to mention I have to watch over you and make sure Madam Pomfrey doesn't do anything untoward," she teased.

He gifted her the shortest of strange looks then snorted. "Merlin. That's a picture I don't want in my head," he said with disgust.

And at that, she allowed herself a soft laugh that touched her eyes, one of many that graced her features since she began spending warm afternoons in the Potions Master's room. Then she went to fetch his tea.

Several hours later, Hermione closed Wizards of Renown and stretched in the hesitant late afternoon light filtering through the window of infirmary. "Do you mind if we take a break?"

"Not at all."

After a moment, she asked, "Tell me, will you continue to teach, Professor?"

"I think not, Miss Granger," he said, chuckling, his dark eyes amused. "It's past time I left Hogwarts."

"What will you do instead?"

"I'm unsure. Perhaps I will set up a potions business eventually. I haven't decided. I have some time to consider my options." He looked at her thoughtfully. "What about you, Miss Granger? What plans have you?"

"I'm considering applying to the Ministry."

"Shall I owl St. Mungos and see if they have a vacancy in the Janus Thickey Ward you can fill?" he remarked with a smirk. "Perhaps Mr. Lockhart needs a roommate. Or perhaps that was your intent all along…?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Merlin, Professor, tell me what you really think."

He paused. "Truthfully the Ministry would be honoured to have you. Anywhere you chose would be honoured to have you." He paused again. "I might suggest that the Ministry's…internal politics…may not be very pleasant to deal with," he finished seriously.

"You don't believe Kingsley will have changed the Ministry much, then?"

"Uncertain. In my experience, it takes more than one man to change such an institution, and it takes years to do so. I am content to wait and see. From the outside."

The door opened and Madam Pomfrey strode in the room. "I have your Blood Replenishing potion, Severus," she said crisply, handing it to him. She eyed Hermione, who was yawning. "Miss Granger, with the innumerable hours you spend here, aren't you tired? Wouldn't you sleep better in your own bed?"

The innumerable hours I spend here? Sleep better in her own bed? "Er…" Hermione looked at Madam Pomfrey in confusion but managed nothing more before the mediwitch bustled out of the room.

"What on earth was she on about?" she asked Professor Snape, bewildered.

"Perhaps she needs some rest herself," he said levelly into his glass of potion but said nothing more.

When Hermione reached the door to Professor Snape's room the following day, it was already ajar. She pushed it fully open. Her…her? Potions Master was sitting up, assisted, with his back towards her. Madam Pomfrey was leaning over him, changing the bandage around his neck. His infirmary frock fell loosely at his back, exposing most of his skin from shoulder to waist. She stared curiously. Merlin, what…? All at once, she realized what she was seeing: the raised silver-white skin of countless poorly healed wounds. The scars divided his back into tiny slices, and covered nearly all of the surface from his neck to his backside.

"Oh!" Hermione squeaked, twisting around as fast as she could and forcing herself out of the threshold of the door, feeling all the blood drain from her face. She'd already guessed he'd suffered torture at the hands of Voldemort, but had he been whipped? Merlin, why? Were the scars from recent wounds or from long past? Merlin, those injuries…what had this man been through?

Madam Pomfrey and her assistant finished and pushed by her as they left the room. Madam Pomfrey pinned her with a warning glare. As she passed Hermione, she whispered, "Get ahold of yourself, girl. Don't you dare embarrass that man."

She nodded at the healer then forced herself though the door. "My apologies, Professor."

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," he said evenly. "I take it from your words and the look on your face that you witnessed my bandage change."

She dropped her eyes. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to intrude."

"Think no more on it."

She found those simple words were the hardest thing he had ever asked her to do.

The following day, Hermione threw Professor Snape's door open and bounded into the room. "I brought you something today, Professor," she said, depositing herself into the chair near his bed with a bounce and yanking her rucksack open.

"Is that so?" he said, amusement on his face. She retrieved the black plastic box from her bag and placed it on his bedside table. "Miss Granger, you brought me a wireless?"

"I did, sir." She paused. Oh, this was a stupid, stupid idea. He hates it. She felt her face flush. "It's a Muggle radio rather than a wizarding wireless. Actually, it's mine. I thought you might enjoy borrowing it. Perhaps it might entertain you while you recuperate. Are you familiar with Muggle classical music? I find some of it to be quite enjoyable," she said, finally forcing herself to stop rambling.

"Yes, I am. Thoughtful of you, Miss Granger," he said slowly, a strange note in his voice. "What composers do you favor?"

"Well…" At his question, Hermione relaxed. "My favorite is Beethoven, although I enjoy Mozart, Rachmaninoff and Dvorak quite a bit as well." She reached in her bag once more. "The wireless plays CDs, so I brought you Beethoven's Third Symphony. It's my favorite piece of music."

"I am well acquainted with Eroica," he said with a lazy smile. "An excellent choice."

"May I…?" she asked tentatively, indicating the wireless.

"By all means."

As the sounds of her favorite symphony permeated the air in the small room, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Lovely. Just…lovely. "Professor? Is it okay to say…how much I enjoy coming to see you each day?"

"That is…acceptable to say."

"I will need to visit in the morning tomorrow. I have a commitment in the afternoon."

"As I have no commitments, I cannot say it affects me either way."

At that, she rolled her eyes but found she couldn't restrain her smile.

"Good morning, Professor," she said brightly as she stepped into his room the next day.

"Really, Miss Granger, must you be so disgustingly cheerful in the morning?" he growled, slowly pulling himself to a sitting position.

"Why Professor, I see you haven't had your tea yet," she said, indicating the untouched service on his nightstand. "No wonder you're not also disgustingly cheerful. You're not awake," she said as she poured his cup and added the two sugars she knew he preferred.

"Did you make an entry in the journal for your visit this morning?" he growled as she handed him his tea and settled herself into what she had come to think of as her chair.

"Already done." She turned to gift him a half smile, half smirk. "Shall we start with today's Daily Prophet?" she asked, pulling the newspaper out of her bag and unfolding it.

"Please, not the Daily Prophet today," he moaned.

"Why Professor, you'll fall behind on the gossip," she teased.

"Trust me when I tell you, I get quite my fill of gossip right here in the infirmary," he said, taking a drink of his tea.

"Then I have no idea why you'd ever want to leave," she responded. "Your meals are delivered. You enjoy gossip by the earful…"

"I'm afraid it's not as juicy as I'd like," he quipped.

"The meals or the gossip?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and playing along.

"Either," he said with a straight face as she found herself giggling at his answer. "Miss Granger…?"

"Can you imagine Kreacher's face…?" she said between gasps. As she noticed his raised eyebrow, she said, "Never mind, Professor…"

Professor Snape looked amused, but Hermione couldn't decide if it was because he was laughing at her or because he might actually be imagining Kreacher's face.

"I see you have procured a wizard's chess game," she said as she stifled her laughter and dragged her wooden chair closer to Professor Snape. "I'm not any good at chess, sir, but I'd love to see what you can do in that bed…er…I mean…I'd love to see how fast you can take my…er…I'd love to play with you," she stumbled finally, her face flushing at her words. What you can do in that bed? How fast you can take my…? Love to play with you? Sweet Merlin…how many times am I going to allow my mouth to run off without my brain? I mean, he's an incredibly handsome man but…what?

He made a strangled sort of noise in his throat but made no comment other than cocking his eyebrow, which made things infinitely worse.

"I'm sorry, sir," she managed.

"Indeed, Miss Granger."

As she entered his room the next afternoon, Hermione noticed her chair had been moved from its usual spot to one next to the bed. Apparently, her Potions Master had a visitor last night. She decided to ask him about it at some point today. Or at the very least, find an opportunity to tease him about it.

"Good afternoon, Professor. You are looking well this afternoon."

"I do feel better dressed in my own clothing."

"It's certainly progress."

He yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. "I'm wise to you, you know," she said with a nod, seizing the moment as she repositioned the chair. He raised an imperious eyebrow at her. "You seem much more tired lately," she said serenely. "Did you think it wasn't obvious? I'm not blind. I know all about your nightly visitor."

He blanched but tried to hide it quickly. Enjoying his disquiet, Hermione continued as he struggled to form a response. "When I arrived, my chair was moved again. Closer to the bed, I might add. Mysteries abound, Professor," she whispered.

"Yes…well…" he managed.

"But it's no mystery to me. I've sussed it out, but don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I do have to say that quite frankly, I'm shocked. You'd think Madam Pomfrey of all people would be immune to your charms. But she's not, isn't she? Even though she knows you need your rest, she still can't resist you." She saw the color begin to return to his cheeks and grinned. "Those nightly trysts are catching up to you."

She noticed him release a breath he'd apparently been holding. "Guilty as charged. I had no idea I was so charming until I was restricted to this bed under threat of hexing," he said emotionlessly.

"Really, Professor Snape, seducing a healer. Is nothing beyond you?"

"Apparently not." He paused. "Speaking of which…" Hermione giggled as he leaned in to whisper to her conspiratorially. "Might you bring me some Firewhisky, Miss Granger?" Merlin, that voice caressing her ear spoke to her in ways it should not.

"Merlin, Professor, I had no idea you despised my visits so much. You are trying to get me banned from the infirmary, aren't you?" she whispered back to him, smiling.

"Fair enough. A butterbeer, then," he replied with his own wicked smile. "That should be tame enough to prevent you from being completely banned. I'm dying for a drink."

"Again, it seems you've discovered their aim. Since they couldn't keep you from reading, they are going to keep you from drinking. Brilliant of them, truly."

He chuckled. "Madam Pomfrey—"

"Is here," interrupted the mediwitch in question as she bustled into the room, apparently unaffected by overhearing conversations her patients were having about her. She continued briskly, "Miss Granger. Professor Snape needs his rest. If—"

"Poppy, I'm allowed a visitor on occasion," he interjected before Hermione could respond.

"Yes, but with the amount of time Miss Granger spends here, I would not describe it as 'on occasion'," she said firmly, turning towards her patient.

"I will let Miss Granger know if I need rest, Poppy. Now please, leave us," he responded just as firmly. "I'm certain whatever task brought you here can be postponed while I have a visitor."

"Very well, Severus," she said with a snide look at Hermione and, huffing and walking back towards the door, she added, without turning around, "Well, Miss Granger, if you insist on being here all hours, please encourage your professor to get out of bed for a small amount of exercise. He needs to work on regaining his strength." And with that, she left the room, closing the door in her wake.

Professor Snape sighed. Hermione raised an eyebrow and strolled to the window.

"Why Professor, if you got out of bed, you'd be able to enjoy the view from your window. It's warm today…I see witches out there sunning themselves in far fewer clothes than usual…" she teased.

"This is supposed to inspire me to get out of bed?"

"Of course."

"Why would that inspire me when I only have eyes for you, Miss Granger?" he asked mockingly. Hermione turned to leave. "Where are you going?"

"To ask Madam Pomfrey to have your eyes checked. Or have you fallen on your head lately?" she said over her shoulder.

He chuckled. "I'm afraid not. But when you see her, would you could ask her if I could borrow some Omnioculars?"