Chapter 8
Hermione was seated in the back of the Charms classroom, intently focused on a large, brown, weathered tome regarding soul bonds, when she started to feel unwell again. Her usually focused gaze was distant, and her hand repeatedly went to her forehead, where a dull ache was steadily growing. The words in the ancient tome seemed to blur together, so she decided to direct her attention to Professor Flitwick's lesson on Lumos instead. As the lesson progressed, she found it increasingly difficult to concentrate.
"Miss Granger," Professor Flitwick's voice rang out, "Could you kindly demonstrate the Lumos Charm for the class?"
She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her stomach turning with a strange unease. Raising her wand with a shaky hand, she attempted to mimic the proper movement, but the charm sputtered into existence, in a flicker of dim light.
The class fell silent, the curious gazes of her classmates turning towards her.
She looked at her wand as if it were broken. She'd never had trouble casting basic charms. Merlin. She could do wandless magic in the height of the war. She attempted to cast again, and the charm failed once more.
"Ah, it seems we all have our off days, don't we?" Professor Flitwick's voice was kind, attempting to ease her discomfort. "No worries, Miss Granger. Please, take your seat."
Hermione's gaze fixed on her hands, searching her mind for an explanation. Her head was throbbing, and the dull ache intensified into a pounding rhythm that matched the beats of her heart. She pressed her fingers to her temples, hoping to quell the pain, but it only seemed to worsen.
Time dragged on, and the classroom walls seemed to close in around her, and a queasy feeling settled in her stomach. Soon, every word spoken by Professor Flitwick felt like a distant echo.
Finally, as the class started practicing the charm on their own, she approached Professor Flitwick's desk.
"Professor," her voice was barely a whisper, "May I be excused? I'm not feeling well."
The concern in his eyes was evident as he nodded, granting her permission. "Of course, Miss Granger. Please take care of yourself. Would you like me to inform Professor McGonagall?"
She managed a weak smile. "Yes, please."
Gathering her belongings, she left the classroom, the gazes of her classmates following her. The corridor felt unusually long as she made her way to Gryffindor common room, her steps unsteady.
Once inside, Hermione collapsed onto one of the couches. She closed her eyes, wishing the discomfort to pass; but the room spun around her, and she felt utterly helpless.
A short time later, Professor McGonagall arrived with a worried expression.
"Miss Granger, what seems to be the matter?"
She struggled to find her voice, her throat dry and scratchy. "I think I'm coming down with something, Professor. My head— it's pounding."
Professor McGonagall placed a cool hand on her forehead, confirming her suspicions. "You have a fever. You should rest and drink plenty of fluids. I'll inform Madame Pomphrey, and I'll have Professor Snape bring you some potion to alleviate the symptoms."
Hermione nodded weakly, then closed her eyes and drifted off into a deep slumber. When she woke, she was no longer in the common room, but in the Hospital Wing.
The infirmary was bathed in a soft, soothing light, casting a gentle glow over the white curtains that surrounded her bed. She blinked her eyes open, momentarily disoriented by her surroundings. As her senses slowly came into focus, she registered the faint rustle of movement and the muted sounds of whispered conversation.
She pulled herself into a sitting position and her cot squeaked with the movement. Madame Pomphrey was around her curtain in an instant.
"Oh good, you're awake," she said pleased. "Severus," she called.
The curtain opened further, revealing Professor Snape, his usually stern expression softened by a flicker of concern. He held a tray with a steaming cup of tea and a vial of a potion, his dark eyes fixed on her.
"Miss Granger," Snape's voice held a touch of formality, "I've brought you a potion to alleviate your symptoms and a cup of tea to soothe your nerves."
Hermione's tired eyes brightened at the unexpected sight of him, "Thank you," she managed.
He placed the tray on the table, his movements precise and controlled. "It's my duty to ensure the well-being of the students, regardless of my personal preferences."
She ignored the slight and reached for the potion.
Professor Snape turned to leave, and Madame Pomphrey blocked him.
"Not so fast, Severus," she said, giving him a stern look.
"I have done as you asked," he stated frankly, "What more do you require, Madame?"
"You two must spend time together to recharge this bond, or this will continue to happen again and again."
He sent an unimpressed glance in her direction, "It is of no consequence to me, if Ms. Granger is too sick to attend her classes."
Madame Pomphrey huffed, "It will be of consequence to you. Or have you forgotten the first night of term?"
Hermione watched as his lips pressed into a firm line and his gaze hardened.
Madame Pomphrey cast a spell, and suddenly there were golden orbs hovering above both Professor Snape and her. Hermione glanced up at her own orb, realizing how hers was much emptier than Professor Snape's.
"Her magical core is drained," Madame Pomphrey said, "She couldn't cast a spell right now if she tried. Yours is fast approaching the same."
"And?" Professor Snape asked, sounding irritated.
Madame Pomphrey cast a spell, and suddenly the curtains closed firmly around them. Hermione felt the sensation of a ward falling over her, and she realized Madame Pomphrey intended to keep their discussion very private.
"First of all, I believe you two have something very special brewing between you. There is potential for magical greatness not seen in ages. But you two will muck it up and become squibs if you can't find a way to build on this bond."
She paused, giving them both a stern look.
"I have read every medical tome available to me and can say with certainty the bond will gain strength when you are near each other, and it will lose strength when you are apart, draining your magic as it does. Many tomes refer to 'recharging bonds' as a way to maintain the benefits and strength of the bond, without the constant need to be near one's bond-mate."
She fixed them both with a strong gaze, "Traditionally, bond-mates are lovers, which makes recharging the bond easy. However, given Ms. Granger is a fourth-year student, that clearly is not the case here."
Professor Snape scoffed in disgust, and a deep blush rose to Hermione's cheeks, but Madame Pomphrey continued, "Regardless, the research has been clear: physical touch is required to recharge the bond. Therefore, after careful consideration, I believe is it most appropriate and medically necessary to recharge the bond through physical touch; and I believe the best way to achieve that with minimal interruption to your daily activities, would be to spend a night sleeping next to each other."
Professor Snape made a move to storm out of the curtained area but was thrown back gently by Madame Pomphrey's wards.
He turned to the matron with a glare "This is madness," he seethed.
"Indeed," she agreed, "Given the unique circumstances, I believe it would be most proper that this action takes place here, under my surveillance. It will give me an opportunity to obtain data, and perhaps learn more about your bond and how it works."
Hermione watched as Professor Snape tried and failed several times to break through Madame Pomphrey's wards.
The matron gave a small chuckle. "You know it's no use, Severus, medi-witch wards are some of the strongest there are. Not even a cursebreaker from Gringotts could breach it."
Hermione made a mental note to look up medi-witch wards.
Professor Snape mumbled something under his breath, and Madame Pomphrey waved her wand. Hermione felt a break in the ward, as a door appeared on the wall beside her cot. Madame Pomphrey opened the door and beckoned for them to follow.
Hermione slid her legs off the cot and onto the floor, but as she began to stand, her legs became shaky, and she swayed wildly in the wrong direction. She threw her arms out instinctively to break her fall, but she felt Professor Snape behind her in an instant, holding her up.
He helped her through the door, and Hermione couldn't help but to lean into him, as if pulled by a magnet, savoring the comforting warmth that spread through her body.
They entered a room bathed in a soft, inviting glow. The walls were painted in a soothing shade of pastel blue, giving the space a serene and tranquil ambiance.
Her eyes were drawn to a large, plush bed positioned against the far wall, with a row of plump pillows lining the headboard. A polished wooden desk sat against one corner of the room, adorned with a sleek lamp and a few neatly arranged books. On the adjacent wall, a large window allowed rays of sunset to stream across the room, dancing across two soft, upholstered armchairs positioned by a crackling fireplace.
Professor Snape began to protest but Madame Pomphrey cut him off.
"I cannot—" she paused looking mischievous, "Rather, I will not force you to sleep next to each other. But it is my recommendation. Regardless, I cannot keep having you two show up in my infirmary like this. The other professors are starting to ask questions, and I'm tired of getting choked by magic every time I try to come up with an explanation."
Hermione gave her a questioning look, and she waved her hand nonchalantly, "Medi-witches must take a privacy oath."
Then she fixed them both with a stern look.
"I don't care if you sit, sleep, or run circles around each other, but you will spend time together and recharge this bond," Madame Pomphrey commanded. With that, she closed the door with a Thump, leaving them locked in the room together.