The Self-Writing Parchment

Severus tries to get Hermione to tell him what she sees in him to figure out why she came to him. Draco and Hermione have dinner together – alone.

~o6o~

Small Kindnesses

Without the sleeping and pain potions, Hermione began to stir in her sleep. Without them when she began to dream, she started to move. She began to moan, and her head rolled on her pillow. Then she gently rolled and stretched. First, her hand reached out to touch him, then her leg. Unconsciously in his sleep, he had shifted slightly away from her once, then rolled onto his back trying to push her away. She did roll over, but shortly after, her hips and thighs were pressed against his and her face lay next to his arm. He could feel her warm breath each time she exhaled and sensed her body heat, making one side of him feel too hot. He waved his hand, using a nonverbal spell to push Hermione back onto her side of the huge bed, and fell asleep.

She moaned, her head tossed on her pillow, and she muttered something indecipherable, waking him again. He tried to ignore her and fall asleep, and the next thing Severus knew, he woke up with her lying beside him, her leg entangled with his, and an arm lying across his body with her hand nearly touching his groin and her face nestled on his shoulder. He dislodged her hand away from his erection carefully, wondering, Why in all Hades – me?

He tried to shift her arm off him and dislodge her leg without waking her, and Hermione rolled onto her back, still managing to take up over half of the huge bed. And she's so small. How could someone so small take up so much space?

He maneuvered himself onto his side, propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her. In sleep, she looked so young and innocent. I am actually old enough to be your father… he thought. Seventeen, she's either seventeen or will turn seventeen soon, an adult in our world – but still so young. Her hair framed her face on the pillow with soft, unruly curls. His eyes roamed her face, studying her features. She has a nice face: a pert nose, long, thick eyelashes and her eyebrows are not too thin or bushy. His eyes followed the pattern of her pale freckles from her nose across her cheeks. Her cheekbones are evident without being bony, and she has a nice chin… Her mouth was slightly open, and Severus stared, mentally tracing the slight fullness of her lips. He had also noticed lately that when she smiled she had perfect teeth. Part in thanks to Draco's curse their fourth year. I don't believe she ever thanked him for that… but it is a vast improvement. He recalled hearing two of his Slytherins and some Durmstrang students talking about her that year discussing options for Yule Ball partners. 'Cute enough, but bookish, bossy, and arrogant – thinks she knows everything, always correcting you…' and remembered Avery saying the same thing about Lily once. But then Avery didn't particularly like Lily.

Hermione stirred again, angling toward him in her sleep, seeking him out unconsciously. The subtle unconscious act amused as much as unsettled him. Even in her sleep, she seeks me out. Could the parchment be right? But she shows no outward sign of being attracted to me or having any sign of infatuation. He could almost believe the soul mate part, but the heart's desire claim still plagued him. I've known Plight Troths and Betrothal Charms to be cast regarding blood, power, even compatibility and matches made on those grounds; but emotional attachment was generally considered to be too fleeting and unpredictable.

He knew that in a Muggle matrimonial the words love, honor and obey were said in the vow, although not magically sealed. Could she commit herself to me and make such a vow? Could she trust, love, honor and obey – me? He softly snorted in derision. A Gryffindor trust and obey a Slytherin, bloody unlikely.

He looked up at the window, simply to avoid staring at her. He noticed that the curtains were parted slightly, annoyed that they weren't how he usually kept them, which was closed. Someone – no, she did it; she opened the curtains. They were open more than a full hand span and a half, showing the predawn gloom through the paned-glass window. For a moment he was angry at her audacity. Not that she can see anything through that blasted glass, it's so old… But the dark greyish blue of the sky through the glass was already changing with the subtle, soft silver tinge that promised a new day. He knew that slowly the color would take on a blushing of faint pink, softening into pale shades of peach, and then the sky would slowly fade into pale blue tones and eventually turn a bright cerulean blue. There were very few that appreciated the subtle changes of night into day, few who bothered to watch it. But to him that subtle morphing of color each morning was uplifting and peaceful, calming to the soul.

Dawn was the time of the day he liked most. That brief span of time just before sunrise. Even living in the castle, the corridors were quiet at dawn. Only Dumbledore knew that Severus rose this early every morning, taking a large mug of coffee and climbing the east tower to watch the sunrise. His time. And rumors were that I'm a vampire – idiotic imbeciles.

He looked at the girl – young woman – lying in bed with him and mentally traced the features of her face again. How could this snippet of a girl think that I am her heart's desire? I'm not even sure I like her… His body belied the discontentment in his mind as his erection grew harder.

Lucius offered to relieve me of her, to have her 'stay' at Malfoy Manor, should I tire of her. He chuckled at the thought. He'd have her chained to the wall in his cellar under the drawing room. No, she's staying here, at least until I can figure out a way of getting rid of her. Shouldn't be too hard. Dolohov, Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange as well as Jugson and Whiltmire all want her – more to extract some sense of revenge against her, I'm sure. Staging an attack and escape won't be too hard. I just have to wait for the most opportune time. Timing… but I will have to time it right. However, it must be done in time for me to begin the new term at Hogwarts. Dumbledore wanted me at the school – until the end – just in case. Alecto and Amycus want to take over Hogwarts, so do Greyback and Rowle. Travers wants to be a professor at Hogwarts; the four of them may just get what they want if the Dark Lord gets his way. If the plans succeed, the Carrows and Travers will get their wish – just as Dumbledore feared.

~o0o~

Lying in bed, she opened her eyes to see Snape propped up on his elbow watching her. Blast-Ended Skrewt – why is he looking at me like that? What does he want now? "Is something – do you want something, sir…." Cringing, she hoped it wasn't sex. Please, he cannot want that….

"Yes, Miss Granger, I want something. However, I have neither the desire nor the intent of molesting you, despite what you and your friends probably think." The contemplative look on his face changed as his lip curled into a slight smile that gave her no reassurance at all.

She watched his eyes as his gaze seemed to dance over her face, neck and shoulders. What was reassuring was the fact that he didn't touch her, and his eyes roamed over her with a look of speculation and appreciation rather than lecherousness. "You mean you – you want to – with me," she uttered surprised.

His eyebrow arched, and his lips stretched into a wicked smile. "I am a man, Hermione. We always want to. Besides, you have finally grown up from the insufferable child and intolerable adolescent into a young woman… But no, I will not force you." She gaped at him a moment, weighing what he said. "Tell me, what do you think we have in common, Miss Granger?"

His question startled her. She regarded him speculatively. "I don't know, sir. I don't confess to know you all that well." She shifted so that she could lie on her side and look at him better.

"Pity," he said, his expression curious. "I suppose you see me as all your friends do, as the greasy bat of the dungeons, the most feared and horrible professor of Hogwarts, then?"

"No, sir," she quickly replied, her eyes opening wide.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Really now, Miss Granger, don't lie…"

"I never said that about you!" she exclaimed, unintentionally interrupting him. He emitted a soft, angry growl. "Well, I admit that I may have admitted some trepidation about you, about how me… um, how you were in your classes. And I admit you were intimidating, especially when caught… ah, passing you in the corridors – but – well… You were frightening at times." He laughed softly at her admission. "Nevertheless, sir, I have never called you 'bat,' 'git,' or 'greasy' anything!"

"You expect me to believe that? I've heard your friends say it plenty of times," he sneered slightly.

"And I always – well, mostly – admonished them for that. It's disrespectful!" she exclaimed, looking up at him, then lowered her eyes from his intense scrutiny, focusing instead on the black hairs that curled on the creamy skin of his chest. As usual whenever she saw him undressed of late, she admired the tone of his body, the strong chest and arms, lithe legs and rippled abdomen. The picture of perfect masculine strength. Without realizing it, her eyes had traveled up to his shoulder and followed his arm down across his abdomen to where his hand rested on the bed between them. It's amazing that he's as strong as he is. He can lift and carry me as if I weigh nothing… He's lithe, but lean muscled. Besides, I've never liked thick muscled guys. I've always preferred tall, athletically-toned runner's or swimmer's bodies – like his.

He reached out and gripped her jaw, making her look at him as his eyes stared at hers intently, but he made no comment. She forced herself to breathe slowly, meeting his intense stare, forcing herself to remain calm. After several long heartbeats, he asked, "Then how do you see me, Miss Granger?"

Oh, I hope he didn't just read that thought. She was thankful for the pale, predawn light, hoping that he couldn't see her blush. I like and respect you… if only you'd let me… "I have always thought you were intelligent – brilliant at potions, and a strong – capable wizard, knowledgeable, dedicated to your craft, liked and respected…"

"Really?" he asked contemptuously, interrupting her.

Her gaze flicked across his face. "By the other professors, yes, and by Dumbledore – he respected and trusted you – explicitly. Even the Order members respected you – may not have trusted you as much – but they respected you." She noticed his eyes narrow and knew that was not what he meant. "On occasion I was intimidated by you, angry and frustrated because you hated me for no apparent reason. I hated that you were so mean and unreasonable when I had a question. I hated how you would sneak up on us – me. I always wondered why, if you hate kids, and loathe teaching, why would someone like you, who could do anything – anything – would choose to be a teacher."

"Hogwarts was where I needed to be, Miss Granger. After my trial – the only place I could be." His silky drawl made Hermione look up at him again, right into his dark penetrating eyes. "But you are avoiding my question. What do you suppose we have in common?" he asked softly.

His dark eyes looked like fathomless pools in the pale light, and she wished that she could read him – to know what he was thinking, but his face was a cool emotionless mask. "I know you're a brilliant intellect and that you like to read. I know that you like potions, the subtle science, and the precision and exact art of potion making… of creating something magical from the ingredients with your own hands… That would be two things we have in common, sir, reading and potions," she said softly. "I'm not so sure about likes and dislikes… interests, hobbies and such…" She paused to think. "I know that you like history, mysteries, herbology, astronomy, alchemy…"

The corner of his mouth curled up, neither a smile nor a sneer. "You are simply listing the sections of my library." His grip softened, and his thumb, ever so slowly, traced her jaw. With one finger he trailed a line down her throat, then traced her collarbone, pushing her hair from her skin, exposing her shoulder to his gaze. His gentle touch sent shivers through her, and her breathing became deeper and slower.

She could feel the whisper of his breath on her face, and if he'd move slightly toward her, he could kiss her… Her lip twitched nervously at the thought, wondering if he might, and she bit her lip, releasing it slowly. "I know that you read every book you could before you went to Hogwarts." His eyebrow rose and his lips tightened into a smirk. "Well, I suppose you did, because I was told that you went to school knowing a great deal – of – ah – spells."

"You mean that I knew quite a bit about the Dark Arts and was well versed in curses," he said, the look in his eyes far away, as if recalling a memory. "Yes, you would have been told that from Black and Lupin. What else?" His eyes roamed slowly, looking at every inch of her the night-slip exposed, and she tried to focus on anything other than his scrutinizing stare.

She watched his face apprehensively, her heart pounding nervously in her chest, and tried to focus on his question. "I'm not sure, really. You and I have never shared personal confidences, and people don't really talk about you or your past – much," she confessed. "This is the first time I've spent any time with you at all… that I've been alone with you. Every other time I spent with you was in a classroom or an Order meeting…" The Order! He is in the Order. He mentioned my friends, Professor Lupin… Which forced her to recollect Lupin's, Harry's and Ron's expressions of shocked disbelief and rage when she turned away from them in Knockturn Alley. Oh, Circe! Harry – Ron – what they must be thinking… Would they know I was Imperiused? Snape had spoken his commands so – softly… I don't know that they heard… if they could hear him… What if they didn't hear him… They must think I've turned against them, she surmised. "I really need to contact my friends – anyone in the Order… If I could just…"

Snape's eyes darkened and his demeanor suddenly changed to anger, and he rolled away from her. "No – you cannot!" He walked around to her side of the bed. "I suggest you shower this morning. I don't have time to stand here as you bathe."

"Why can't I contact anyone?" she asked, although she knew the answer. "Unless it's to… unless… So am – so I'm being held just to torture Harry then." I hate this! Hate that he's keeping me here when he could just let me go. "Sir, I could always just…"

"You knew that already. Now get up. I need to get to work," he said, snapping at her in impatience.

Hermione scooted across the bed and walked past him into the loo. "You don't have to be doing this, you know," she said, keeping her back to the door. Hermione reached into the shower and turned on the water, intimidated that he was watching her and fearful that he would join her.

"Really?" he asked in a slow deliberate drawl. Hermione turned around to look at him, but Snape was leaning against the doorframe with his back to her, staring disinterestedly at the opposing wall. She could see his smirk in his reflection in the mirror. "And how, pray tell, do I explain to the Dark Lord that I simply let you go? Or should I blame it on Malfoy? Would you have me killed in exchange for your freedom, Miss Granger, or perhaps you'd prefer to cause Draco's death?" he said slowly and deliberately.

"Neither!" she said, aghast at his declaration. "I don't want either of you killed! I didn't mean – he wouldn't – would he?" she stammered and then felt his words hit her like a lump in her chest. "Of course he would…"

"Yes, he would. Like it or not, I will comply with what the Dark Lord wants in regards to us." He paused long enough for his words to sink in.

She didn't want to shower with him glaring at her. At least in the bathtub she could conceal some of herself under the bubbles. She started to protest, then closed her mouth at his stern expression.

"Well, get on with it, or do you want me to come in and assist you, Miss Granger?" he asked her in his deliberate drawl.

She closed her eyes and turned away from him for a moment as she pulled off the night-slip, embarrassed by his suggestion, silently praying he didn't mean it, and then turned back to respond to him, only to find the doorway empty.

Hermione hurried through her shower, turned off the water, wrung her hair and reached for the towel. Snape was leaning against doorway, staring absently into the bedroom holding his jar of Bruise Salve. "I thought that you had a choice," she said shakily, resuming their earlier conversation.

"And what, pray tell, gave you that idea?" he asked curiously, turning to look at her with a smirk as she quickly wrapped the towel around her.

Hermione tucked the corner of the towel securely to enable her to move her arms freely. Facing the mirror on shaky legs, she ran her brush through her hair, trying to suppress the implicit impact of his statements. The usual battle with her hair would have been distracting enough, but this morning she noticed that the brush slid easily through her locks, obviously much more manageable than they'd ever been before. "You told me it would be your choice… surely you don't want to…"

His cold sneer and soft humiliating laugh cut her off as effectively as if he had yelled at her. "Apparently you might have made a Plight Troth Spell of some kind, Miss Granger." Slowly, he looked at every inch of her the towel exposed, which thankfully only included her shoulders and legs thanks to the towel's width. Nevertheless, she tried to focus on anything other than his scrutinizing stare. "That could forcefully make the choice for me. Unfortunately, for you, the Dark Lord likes the idea of Potter's best friend and his trusted spy and loyal follower bound together. Finish primping, Miss Granger," he said coolly and turned to leave the loo. "I don't like to be kept waiting."

"But I didn't do anything of the sort," she said, stunned, but he had left. She set down her brush defiantly on the counter. Augh, he's annoying! "I'll be dragon burned before I marry you!" Marry Snape? Oh, my, he – we – us – married? He doesn't want this – he doesn't want this! He'll find a way out for us. I just have to trust him – that's all. It'll be fine.

Hermione followed him into the bedroom, and he took her arm firmly directing her back to the bed, holding a blue night-slip out to her. She pulled it on over her towel, easing her towel to her hips at an attempt at modesty. Her actions elicited a smile from him, making her slightly annoyed at him for standing there staring at her, watching her dress. "Lie down," he said simply.

"Couldn't I do that myself?" she asked, eyeing the jar in his hands as she sat down on the edge of the bed.

"No," he replied. "You have to say a nonverbal charm with the application in order for the salve to penetrate deep enough. Now, lie down."

Hermione swallowed hard and lay back on her elbows to let him treat her bruises. He pulled her night-slip up to her waist and tugged at her towel, exposing her abdomen and the hand-shaped bruise. The discoloration hadn't changed, and the pain from his administrations was only slightly less painful than before. She rolled slightly to give him access to her thigh and then for her hip, grateful when he was done.

"Roll over," he demanded softly but firmly.

"What?"

"Your bottom, Miss Granger," he said firmly, exchanging jars. "The bruise needs one more treatment. Roll over."

Hermione swallowed and scooted up on the bed to lie on her stomach. Snape pulled the towel from her and pushed up her night-slip, exposing her backside. The cool sensation of the Bruise Paste was in stark contrast to the warmth of his hand as he rubbed the salve into her skin, covering each buttock cheek in slow, thorough motions. He stopped briefly before his hand continued down her right thigh, his fingers sweeping slowly along the inside of her thigh to her bum-crease and then repeating on her left thigh. She held her breath, forcing herself to remain still, fighting the urge to squirm as his fingers slid teasingly between her legs. When he set the jar on her bedside table, she scrambled from the bed quickly, and he nearly collided into her when he turned around.

The surprised look on his face vanished instantly, and his expression immediately transformed into his impassive mask. "Breakfast, I'm hungry," he said simply, taking her arm and pulling her from the room without bothering to let her grab her dressing gown or boots.

Down in the dining room, Draco's brief, cold appraisal before he returned to reading the letter in his hand only increased her sense of self-consciousness. "My mum wants to know if you can make her some more of her hair care products. She also wants Skin Toning Salve and Nail Hardening Elixir."

Snape sat down, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. "Then you will make them for her. I have other requests to produce."

Peren quickly passed out the plates, and Hermione noticed that the food on hers looked as if it'd been arranged with a bit more care than the men's plates, and she'd been given a few extra strawberries. Her shoulders were slightly cold as she ate; however, breakfast was far more bearable with only Snape and Draco present since both men rarely looked at her while they ate.

After breakfast, Snape led them into the room across the hall. Both chairs had been moved to the wall with a heavy wooden coffee table set in front of them, and the two steamers and two traveling trunks were now stacked against the opposite wall. The rug in the middle of the floor had been magically thickened as well. Several books lay on the coffee table. Snape told Hermione to sit with a demanding bark and thrust one of the books at her, telling her to read quietly. He then stood facing Draco, both with their wands drawn. "At Hogwarts you are taught how to defend against unfriendly spells. That is not enough. You must also – on occasion – reverse spells or heal yourself – quickly – or you'll be easily incapacitated. So today you will undo what I do to you."

Hermione looked up from her book, and Snape gave her a cold scowl, then turned back to face Draco. "Langlock," Snape said. Draco gurgled, pointing his wand at his mouth, and then flexed his jaw. Snape repeated spell until Draco managed to release the effect quickly enough for Snape's satisfaction. However, the counter spell had to be a nonverbal one since Hermione didn't hear him say anything but a few mumbles when he was unable to release his tongue.

Snape nodded. "Impedimenta," and Draco looked as if he were a slow motion shot on a television show. Hermione stifled a laugh, watching him over the top of her book as he struggled to release himself. Snape stood with his arms crossed, waiting with an impatient scowl. Draco was immediately hit with the same curse as soon as he could move properly. Severus hit him several times with the curse before Draco could reasonably reverse its effects.

"Densaugeo," Snape snapped, and Draco's eyes went large as his teeth began to enlarge grotesquely. Hermione looked up, remembering when Draco had used the same hex on her. Draco struggled to reverse the effect unsuccessfully, and Snape pointed his wand at Draco's mouth and said simply, "Abhorrere," and his teeth shrunk back to normal, then repeated the hex.

Oh, so that's the counter spell… Hermione made sure to make a mental note of the spell, repeating it silently several times so as to never forget.

Draco's eyes watered as teeth engorged again, his eyes flashing in annoyance when Snape reversed the hex and Draco's teeth were back to normal. Even after several tries, Draco wasn't able to reverse that particular hex.

"Levicorpus," Snape snapped quickly, and Draco was immediately suspended in mid air, dangling by one leg.

"Liberacorpus," Draco said, falling onto the rug.

"Well, you have that one down at least. Sectumsempra," and a cut appeared on Draco's shoulder. Draco said an incantation that almost sounded as if he were singing, but the cut closed. "Go put some dittany poultice on that." Draco nodded and limped from the room.

Snape turned to Hermione, walking over to loom over her chair. "If I were to insist on a comprehensive essay on what you've read in that book, how disappointed would I be?"

Hermione grimaced and bit her lip, sagging in her chair a bit. "Probably quite disappointed actually, sir."

"How disappointing that you do not find my selections for you all that interesting," he said, looking down his nose at her, the tiniest tilt in the corner of his mouth belied the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "You'll be reading that book most of the afternoon."

Draco returned and Snape used several curses and hexes, one at a time, giving Draco time to breathe between each one, after either Draco or Snape reversed the spell's effects. Hermione knew that these were more likely the spells that the other Death Eaters liked using in fights, more so than those usually used by Aurors and Order members, which were taught at Hogwarts.

Snape used Erigere, which held Draco immobilized securely upright as if against a wall, one curse that Hermione knew Lupin liked to use, and Extremus Gelidus, which obviously made Draco extremely cold, Articularis Morbus, made Draco's joints swell and immobile. Hermione memorized each counter curse, wishing she could write them down somewhere. Snape then used Ilia Ducere, which caused Draco to become broken-winded; however, this curse had a nonverbal counter spell so she didn't learn that one. Hermione knew that these spells came from Snape's old potions book and were spells he'd invented himself because she remembered reading them over Harry's shoulder in the common room.

She tried concentrating on the book in her lap, but was too distracted, repeatedly trying to watch Snape and Draco slyly over the edge of her book instead. She repeated each counter spell Draco said silently to herself, trying to memorize each one.

After lunch in the potions lab, Snape directed Hermione to sit in her chair again. He thrust the book she had been trying to read earlier at her, then disappeared into the storeroom to collect his ingredients.

Approximately three hours later, as Snape set his potion on the cooling rack, Draco grabbed his left arm with a loud hiss, and Snape made a sharp intake of breath, grimacing. Snape turned and walked over to Hermione's chair. "Miss Granger, come with me," he demanded sharply.

"I can stay and finish…" she protested as he pulled her roughly by the arm to get up.

"No, Draco and I have things to discuss before he goes that does not concern you," Snape retorted sharply. "Set a Stasis Charm on the potion and stay here one moment. I'll be right back," he said to Draco as he propelled her out of the lab and up to the bedroom. "You're staying here until I return," he said, nearly throwing her into the bedroom and left quickly.

Hermione sat on the bed, fuming at his rough treatment. She got up and paced, sitting back on the bed with her arms crossed. Sent to my room – no, HIS room, like an errant child! How dare he… It suddenly dawned on her that she was alone in the room. Draco was summoned, I'm sure of it… But was Snape summoned, too? If so will he be gone – minutes maybe – or possibly for hours? Reaching under the corner of the bed, she pulled out the Galleon. She held the coin tightly in her hand, focusing all her concentration on the Galleon. If I could only make this say – I'm fine. The coin lay quietly in her hand. I'm fine…she thought again. I'm – fine. Nothing. She wanted to scream in frustration. I'm not even remotely fine! The Galleon vibrated again, but didn't change.

The day wore on slowly. Hermione tried for what seemed like ages to make the coin change and give Harry or Ron a message. The best she could do was to make the coin vibrate. Finally giving up, she began to pace the room, ending up at the bookcase. Four trophies stood as bookends on the shelves: Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers Award of Excellence in1976 and again in 1984, Tammersforth Society of Potion Mastery, Journeyman level Distinguished Excellence Award in Potions in 1983, and the Derwent National Society Award of Exceptional Merit in potions in 1987. Hermione wondered briefly what Snape had done to win these honors and for a fleeting moment considered asking him. As if he would tell you, she chided herself.

She perused the titles, noting that among the expected Dark Arts and Potion subjects there was a fair number of books on Alchemy, Herbology, Arithmancy, mythology and magical creatures. Even more surprising were Yates, Emerson, Keats, Hemmingway, Shakespeare, and Aristotle as well as many Muggle classics and novels. She even recognized some of her own favorite authors as well as hardcover books by Jeffery Archer, David Eddings, Stephen King, John Grisham, Jane Austen and Stephen Koontz. She tried to touch the spine of one book, and a sharp stabbing pain ran up her arm and straight into her shoulder. Gasping, she decided which book she wanted and tried again, grasping for the book quickly. The pain radiated down her arm sharply to the base of her skull, but the thick book fell into her hands.

Hermione carried the book to the bed opening the cover to read: The Rise of Darkness, by Myles Stanridge, Fastosus Opinio Praeiudicata Defendo. Every dark wizard or witch that rose to power seemed to be listed in the books table of contents. The twenty-seventh chapter detailed the years of Myrddin Gaunt in 1925 through 1931. Chapter thirty covered the rise ofGrindelwald in 1945 to his defeat. Chapter thirty-two to the end of the book was about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named from 1970 until he was 'defeated' by the Boy-Who-Lived. The book had been published four years after Lily and James Potter had been killed.

Hermione sat down, reading the accounting of Gellert Grindelwald and was surprised that the account of his rise and his years of power were recorded so differently from the books that she had read at Hogwarts. Likewise, Merwyn the Malicious was in the book, although by his real name, Merwyn Mordaunt. Hermione had been halfway through the accounting of his tale before she realized, surprised, that it was the same wizard, Merwyn the Malicious, who had invented all those nasty jinxes and curses during the early medieval years of Charlemagne. The book was written in a direct, straightforward narrative with a brutal honesty that stripped away any of the romantic notions of these wizards' lives. The events, actions and situations recorded in the book both appalled and intrigued her. She turned the page and read the entry on Mordrid Cravenweld, who rose to power during the beginning of the High Middle Ages. She knew that he had tried to organize the wizards of the Northern Europe to rebel against the religious and intellectual changes in England and Europe, including the organization of the papal monarchy, which he saw as a threat to all Wizardkind. She was, however, surprised to read just how successful he had become and how widespread his theories had penetrated before he had been captured, drawn and quartered.

Intrigued by the depiction that had varied so drastically from what she knew about Mordrid Cravenweld, she decided to see how the author would write about the Dark Lord. She had started reading about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when she heard Snape's footsteps at the door and barely had enough time to duck the book under her pillow.

He stopped just inside the room, looking at her. "Miss Granger, come here." She jumped up and walked over to him. "You're to go down to dinner," he said, pushing her through the door into the hall. She stared at the open doorway, confused. Snape pulled off his robe, discarding it for another, then disappeared deeper into the bedroom. She turned and walked down to the kitchen to see Draco waiting for her at the foot of the stairs.

"It's dinnertime, Granger, or aren't you hungry?" he snarled at her.

She had no idea what had gotten his wand in a knot. Mutely, so as to avoid an argument over something stupid, she followed him, sitting in the chair across the table from him. Draco looked up as Peren set down their plates. "Don't stare at me," he snapped as he started to eat.

"I'm not," she replied, cutting off a bite of her steak.

After several bites, he looked up at her. "Then why are you looking at me?"

"Draco, I'm not looking at you. You're simply sitting across the table from me." She sipped on her water and picked up her fork, scooping up some peas.

"Look somewhere else," he snapped, picking up his goblet.

Hermione dropped her fork with a clatter, making some of her peas roll off her plate. "Are you mad at me because I was watching you and Professor Snape today? Is that what has your wand in a knot?"

His eyes snapped up to hers, and the normally light grey looked cold and stormy. "That had nothing to do with you." He continued to eat, keeping his head down to avoid looking at her.

"Then tell me what it is so that I can apologize and we can finish dinner peacefully," she said, looking at him as she ate another bite of her dinner.

He looked up at her and glared angrily. "I said, 'Stop staring at me.' Really, anyone would think you had a thing for me!"

"Oh, as if I'd hold any deep longing for a git like you," she retorted, flinging her fork to emphasize her words, accidentally flinging some mashed potatoes that, thankfully, missed him. She dug back into her potatoes and stuffed a lump of them in her mouth.

He pointed his knife in her direction. "As if you could be so lucky, Granger." He cut off a bite of his steak, eating it, and then pointed his knife at her again. "It's not like you haven't tried shagging the other two men in this house already. I suppose it's just a matter of time."

"How dare you!" she screeched, spitting a tiny bit of peas at him accidentally. She swallowed. "I have not slept with anyone in this house!"

He snorted in derision. "Now that's not true, is it?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and set her silverware down. "For your information I have not had sex with Professor Snape, and I most certainly did not have sex with Wormtail," she hissed at him furiously.

Draco looked smugly at her. "If you say so, Granger." He took another bit of his food, looking at her from under his lashes.

Hermione ate for a while, angry with him for being so smug. He's right, of course, but only semantically. I'm only sleeping with Snape, but not sexually… After dinner, eaten mostly in hostile silence, Draco stood up to leave. Hermione quickly dropped her fork and followed him.

"Look, I don't want to baby sit you, all right?" he snapped at the doorway to the sitting room. "You don't have to worry – the Rat is still in his cage outside."

"I'm not to wander this house unattended without either you or Professor Snape, remember?" she stated firmly. "Besides, I can't get back into his room because of his wards – so I'm stuck with you."

Draco bristled visibly. "Fine," he snapped and stomped off to the sitting room. "Sit quietly and read then, Granger," he snapped, grabbing a book randomly from the nearest shelf and sitting in his favorite chair.

Hermione perused the nearest bookshelf to select a book. "It's your fault that you have to 'baby sit' me, so don't go and get all twisted in a knot over it," she said over her shoulder.

"It isn't my fault," he sneered.

"Yes, it is," she stated, choosing a book on animal part transformation hexes.

"It's you and that Rat's fault," he snapped angrily.

"My fault! Are you – you must be delusional," she said, turning around. "The Rat, oh, yes – it's Wormtail's fault. He attacked me and – and you didn't do anything to stop him!"

"I did stop him!" Draco stood up, throwing his book into the chair. "I stopped him from pawing you and possibly raping you!"

"Only after I managed to get away from him and climbed my way up the stairs!" she spit back angrily. "Why didn't you come up and help me when Wormtail attacked me on the stairs? Why did you wait then? What took you so long?"

"I didn't know he was attacking you, all right?" Draco yelled back at her.

"Oh, yeah, that's rich," she snarled.

Draco took one step in her direction. "I heard some thumps and someone fall on the stairs; I thought it was the Rat. I heard some muffled cries, but I thought it was because the Rat hurt himself. Then I heard you scream. I got up to investigate and saw him going up the stairs, holding his crotch and staggering. I saw the blood – your blood on the stairs and on the wall. When I got to the top of the stairs, I stunned him and threw him off you." He crossed his arms, glaring at her. "Then I carried you into my room so he couldn't get to you and placed you on a cot. Then ran back down stairs to get potions to heal you," he recounted furiously. "I even brewed a Pain Potion and Blood-Replenishing Potion – for you. I took care of you the best I could, you filthy little Mudblood. And you never even thanked me for it!"

Hermione recoiled, stunned, as Draco turned and stormed from the room. "Thank you," she said to his retreating back.

~o0o~

When Severus returned home late that night, he found Hermione curled up in a ball just outside his bedroom door under a small blanket. He cursed silently and looked over to the room Draco used and knew that the boy was in there. He knew that neither Peren nor Draco could have assisted Hermione through the wards of his room since only the house-elf could pass unharmed. He knelt down to wake Hermione and brushed some of her hair from her face. It was damp, and her cheeks looked like she had been crying, crying hard. She isn't prone to crying fits or self-pity crying. Her nose was slightly red, her lashes were wet and clumped, and her usually rosy pink lips looked darker and fuller.A handkerchief was balled up in her hand. She's outside my door… Wormtail's still on the stoop – so it's not him. Draco? What did Draco do? He couldn't see any physical signs of a fight. An argument then?

He levitated her and carried her into the room, placing her on the bed. She stirred and whimpered without waking. He pulled the boots from her feet and covered her before readying himself for bed. As soon as Severus lay down, Hermione turned toward him in her sleep and muttered, "Thank you," then promptly relaxed into a deep sleep again. Curious, he propped up on his elbow and watched her for a while before lying down and falling asleep himself.

~~o0o~~

Author's note:

Latin translations for the spells I created:

Abhorrere = to shrink back from

Articularis = of the joints

Morbus = gout

Ilia ducere = to become broken-winded

Erigere = to set up, place upright, erect, raise

Extremus Gelidus = extreme cold

My deepest gratitude to Southern_Witch_69 for her help and the effort and support she gave me on this story. Without her, I probably would have chucked it in the rubbish bin.

The warnings I have listed are for this chapter are both implied and also expressed. I chose the rating of MA (NC-17) due to the story's overall content.