"It's going to be alright little man" She pressed a kiss to his head and the tears she held for Severus finally fell.
"You're both going to be alright my boy, I swear… I will keep you both safe"
oOo
Spurned on by the sudden bout of adrenaline that shot through his veins, that the flight or fight response had kicked in after his breakdown and subsequent agreement to see a healer, Severus had strode into the bathroom and thrown the shower on with single minded determination as to strip off and plunge into the water, conquering this ridiculous fear as well as he'd conquered his fear of admitting all that had been done to him.
oOo
Oh but he'd hidden it, or tried to at least. Not as well as he would have liked to, and it was clear to anyone who viewed him with his bloody nose and bruised eyes that his time served wasn't exactly a holiday, but part of him wondered if the righteous fury Hermione had enacted on his behalf that had led to his release, was because she'd already had some thought or belief that the abuse he'd suffered in Azkaban had perhaps been more than he'd willingly admitted to.
She'd been the only one to visit him of course. Potter hadn't , but that was Severus's own doing. He'd requested to visit and Severus declined. Minerva wrote to him, but that was all. She couldn't forgive herself for the way she'd treated him in his tenure as headmaster, and frankly as awful as it was…Severus couldn't forgive her either. He'd shrugged it off of course after the battle when she initially apologised to him while he was still laid up in the hospital wing, they were supposed to believe he was Voldemort's man after all or he wouldn't have been doing his job very well,, but the 11 year old frightened boy who'd looked up to the fierce matriarch, who'd grown into a troubled youth and an even more troubled man, who'd seen the witch as a friend and colleague at the least, and a surrogate mother at the most, who's constant clucking over him and camaraderie had meant that in his heart of hearts…he'd been hurt that of everyone she would truly not see through his she did not see the frightened boy she knew so well, hiding underneath the gilt mask of the ferocious man, so he wasn't ready to forgive her… not yet at least.
But Hermione had visited.
He wasn't sure to this day why he'd accepted her request, but he was ever grateful that he had. Perhaps he had been caught at a low point and just wanted a friendly face, because even as a student, when he was at his most vile, she'd never shown him anything but respect and politeness and had been writing to him every other day since he'd been incarcerated. He was convinced he would have quickly gone mad if she hadn't, split between the horrific abuse when he was with the others, to staring at the four bare stone walls of his empty cell. So in a moment of ennui, he'd accepted her request and approved her for visitation. The actual visits though were…difficult. She was pregnant of course, he'd expected it as she'd told him in letters, but he hadn't expected her to be SO pregnant, the large belly more fitting on someone much further into her confinement, though now he knew the reason for that at least, though the knowledge certainly didn't bring him any comfort..
She'd waddled into the meeting room escorted by two guards and had instantly scrutinised his appearance, he was wearing the filthy robes that Fenrir had torn off him as they hadn't seen fit to give him another, so he had to hold them together by the two halves at the side, lest they gape open and give her an eyeful. His eyes were blackened, dried blood from his broken nose which was more crooked than usual. She'd narrowed her eyes at his appearance and for a moment he thought she was going to castigate him for not taking better care of himself and prepared himself for her anger, the guards had aswell, smirking among themselves they'd obviously assumed that Potter's friend, the brains of the golden trio, would be there to read him the riot act. They were all wrong. Instead the little pregnant witch had turned around and unleashed absolute hell on the guards. They'd summoned their boss and then there stood 4 guards, 2 of which had participated in his abuse, being absolutely reamed out by the diminutive pregnant witch in front of him. He'd known she'd always been a hellcat but with added pregnancy hormones to the mix and the overprotective nature she had for all who were 'hers', a label he hadn't realised he'd earned, and the result was the little witch was spitting fire. Almost literally, he swore he'd seen sparks in her hair and her fingertips. She'd raked them over the coals and made them fear for their jobs, their lives and their manhood though not necessarily in that order and all he could do was watch in awe as she vehemently fought for his rights, against four burly prison guards..
She'd turned around and after a quick "May I?" cast a number of spells for his comfort. The dampening cuffs prisoners wore, prevented him from accessing his own wandless magic, but the guards behind, watched agog as she wandlessly and wordlessly healed his visible injuries, including an apologetic episkey that painfully snapped his damaged cartilage in his broken nose back into place, cleaned his skin, rid him of the infestation of lice that all prisoners were subject to and cleaned his hair and clothes along with repairing his torn robes, adding protections against the elements and the cold weather. He was then surprised when she added, of all things, a ward over him that protected him from harm, it was even locked to her magical signature; he doubted the guards would even recognise that complex bit of magic. After all, wardsmything was almost Charms Master level work, and to ward a living / moving person, as opposed to a stationary building or room, was definitely Mastery level work.
Turning on her heel, the wide eyed guards stepped back from the diminutive witch in fear, giving her as wide a berth as they were able to in the small room. It was clear that before she began it was her fame, her name and her association with Potter that had made them fear her angry words, but seeing the pregnant little witch casting wandless and nonverbal magic at Mastery level without so much as breaking a sweat, had them all stepping back with a new respectful fear for the little fury in her own right.
And like a vengeful valkyrie she'd turned to him. "Be well Master Snape, I'll be back for you shortly" and off she'd gone, leaving a roomful of stunned men in her wake. The respectful use of his title, another passive little dig at the guards who for the most part he recalled didn't even have any newts, after all, he'd taught 3 of them.
He'd been left smirking at them in dark humour, having full faith in the little Swot's casting and knowing that they were about to fall into her trap, and for the first time, felt like he had the upper hand. Sure enough after a moment's pause, the first time a guard frowned and grabbed him from the chair, wrenching him out of the seat and grabbing his arm painfully hard enough to bruise, The guard had yelped in shocked pain as a strong stinging hex lanced through his , he'd grabbed him again, harder this time, and in response this time it had physically rebounded him across the room and he lay on the floor, cradling his hand. The other guard tried to remove the ward and was promptly petrified and propelled against the wall.
Three different hexes woven into that ward spell matrix? A Stinging Hex, a Stunner and a Petrificus? Impressive Granger. Very Impressive. He'd thought to himself with amusement and not a small amount of respect.
Then a howler promptly came through the window. Which absolutely laid into them. As he'd suspected, there were many layers to her casting. Her wards prevented him from being physically harmed, but also logged the magical signatures of those who attempted to harm him, and she ripped into them by name, causing them to quake in fear, when she told them that seeing as the staff discipline system at Azkaban obviously wasn't working, she'd be taking her complaints to interim Minister For Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt… directly. They'd fallen directly into her snare, and given her all the evidence she needed, and he doubted she'd even left the building yet.
He'd been released soon after, she'd collected him with a bag of his clothes and a batch of homemade cookies.
oOo
Now as he stood there in the bathroom, all adrenaline left him at the sound of the running water from the shower. He went hot, then cold and suddenly there wasn't enough air in the room, and after a moment the ground was much closer than he remembered it was before.
Then everything went black.
When the room came back to him, he was sat on the floor, and Hermione was dabbing at his nose with a bloody cloth. He vaguely wondered how he was upright, though soon realised Sacha was seated beside him, taking the brunt of his weight as he had an arm around the faithful hound and he was propped up against the side of the toilet.
"Welcome back" Hermione said gently. "You passed out, not surprising really, you hit your head and bust your nose… can I have your permission to realign it? "
His head was still full of cotton wool and he didn't trust himself not to embarrass himself if he spoke, so he just nodded mutely.
"I stopped the shower, and ran you a bath. I think you could do with sitting down for a nice long warm soak , what do you say?"
Again he swallowed and nodded but that made his eyes swim and his head throb.
"You're probably concussed, so let's start by getting you off the floor, alright?"
Another nod was her answer.
"Alright grab his collar, don't worry he did this for me a million times when I was pregnant. Baby belly and squatting do not go together, believe me"
He wanted to say that he was considerably larger than her, but then reconsidered. He was whippet thin after all, and the dog beside him a veritable brick wall of muscle that probably outweighed him by 30lbs So he just grabbed the collar as instructed and Hermione grabbed his other arm.
"Hoch Sacha, Hoch"
Lurching forward, Sacha's momentum brought him forward and with Hermione's guiding hand on his arm, they easily got him upright despite his legs still feeling like rubber, though he did overcompensate and likely would have fallen into her if her small hand hadn't settled on his chest and pressed against him, holding him steady for a few moments while he regained his equilibrium and then they finally got him seated on the toilet.
She turned off the taps, and made the preparations for him, getting towels ready and moving a few toiletries to the bath side she obviously thought he'd like, summoning the sweat pants and clean clothes she'd offered him before. He was about to say he didn't need the trousers until he realised he could feel the dampness of blood on them, no doubt stemming from the stream that escaped his nose.
"I'll be in the next room alright ?" She rubbed his arm gently and looking into her soft, warm eyes something came over him that he didn't know how to describe.
A feeling that he didn't want to, simply couldn't, put words to.
So he said the only words he could think of.
"Stay with me…please?"