Chapter 4
A week later, Hermione was finally well enough to leave the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey released her on a Friday evening, mistakenly assuming that Hermione would take the weekend to rest and pick up her studies the next week.
She didn't know Hermione very well, did she?
Hermione returned to her room in Gryffindor tower to find it crammed with get-well cards, Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs…and a rectangular parcel wrapped in a dusty cloth. That was intriguing. She absently scratched Crooks behind the ears, his purring reaching a fever pitch, before untying the cord that held the wrappings in place.
The dusty material fell away and Hermione gasped when she saw the cover of Moste Potente Potions. Her favorite book from the Restricted Section, and it was in her lap. With shaking hands, she opened the cover carefully. A folded piece of parchment with 'Miss Granger' in spiky script was inside the flyleaf and she picked it up, unfolding it.
A little light reading for your convalescence.
S
Hermione gasped, then reflexively clutched the short note to her chest. He knew, of course he knew that this was her favorite tome. Snape knew everything. She needed to thank him. She needed her assignments anyway, and she had recovered, after all. Those were his stipulations. And so, after hours found Hermione, good girl of Gryffindor, the brightest witch of her age, tiptoeing down the dungeon halls in search of the one professor the entirety of the rest of the school seemed to go out of their way to avoid.
She paused outside the massive door to the potions classroom before easing the door open and peeking inside. Nothing. The room was empty and tidy. A faint scratching drew her attention to the door opposite the one she was standing in. Snape's office. Hermione crossed the hall and raised her hand to knock, but before she could, a low groan from inside had her bursting through the door.
Snape, minus his robes and frock coat, was slumped over on the couch in his office, his trousers ripped, shirt in tatters. He was bleeding profusely. Hermione didn't stop to think, she went straight to automation.
Accio Dittany. The small bottle flew into her waiting hand. With a flick of her wand, Hermione vanished Snape's shredded shirt, her mouth going dry at his firm, wiry chest before she gave herself a mental shake and moved to assess his back. He looked like he'd been mauled by a bear. A gasp drew her attention to his pale face. He was conscious.
"Professor! What happened? Can you hear me?" Hermione quickly muttered an Aguamenti and pressed the cup to Severus' parched bloodless lips. He spilled about half but at least it was something.
"Greyback." He whispered and then winced in pain.
Hermione felt the tears welling. He had been attacked. Grasping the dittany, she looked Snape in the face. "This is going to sting a little, Professor. I'm so sorry."
The tortured groan he made when the essence hit his exposed flesh had her tears falling in earnest but she kept doggedly healing the wide gashes on his back until only healing pink flesh remained and the bleeding had stopped.
"Professor? Did he…are you in need of wolfsbane?"
"No. He didn't bite me, Miss Granger." Snape sounded weak but his voice was steady.
Hermione summoned a blood-replenishing potion and offered it, gratified when it was accepted. She spelled the dirty glassware away, vanished the spilled blood on the couch, refilled the water, and then turned back to the tall, slim form on the sofa, noticing again the ripped state of his trousers.
"Professor, I need to make sure you aren't injured elsewhere."
Snape's eyes widened as he realized her intent. "Hermione, wait…"
It was too late. The shredded trousers vanished and…and that was it. Snape was apparently not a fan of undergarments. Hermione stared in shock for a scant second before attempting to assess Snape's lower half clinically. Attempting to. She healed a few superficial cuts and then looked at the worst, on his inner left thigh. The wound was dirty and it took several cleansing spells before she was satisfied that all debris was gone. Picking up the dittany bottle, she raised her eyes to meet Snape's hooded gaze and startled. There was heat in his eyes that she didn't think the normally cold and aloof professor capable of.
"Um…Professor…" she stammered.
"Get on with it, Granger." He said, not unkindly. His voice was gruff.
Hermione unstoppered the dittany, drizzling it along the wound and hearing the pained hiss above her head as the liquid made contact with open flesh again. Reflexively, as her mother had done with her childhood skinned knees, Hermione blew on the gash.
Something in her periphery twitched. Hermione looked right and stifled a gasp. Snape was surprisingly well-endowed, and that fact was making itself known more by the second. His erection was growing rapidly and she froze, at a loss on what to do.
Dimly she heard someone calling her name, but it sounded miles away.
"Miss Granger?" Hermione looked up to see Snape's tight features peering back at her.
"S-Sir?" Gods was that her voice?
"Could you, perhaps, unhand me?" Snape gestured to her grip on his thighs. Hermione let go as if she had been singed.
"We will discuss your…fascination, shall we say…with my anatomy later, Miss Granger. For now, if you would be so good as to summon Poppy for me?" Snape pulled a blanket over his exposed lap.
Hermione quickly crossed the room to the floo and took a pinch of powder, calling quietly for the mediwitch. Scant seconds later, Madam Pomfrey fairly flew through the grate, skidding to a stop and regarding Hermione with wide eyes.
"I must say you didn't waste any time trying to catch up on your work, young lady!" she said with a trace of humor, before seeing Snape's disheveled state and gasping. "Merlin, Severus, what happened?"
"Greyback."
"Let me see." Madam Pomfrey tutted and fussed as she examined him closely while Hermione averted her eyes.
"Well, it seems you've done quite nicely for yourself, Severus. I'm surprised you had the wherewithal to heal yourself so well. You must have been in terrible pain."
"As much as I would like to take credit, Poppy, Miss Granger was my savior this evening." Hermione flushed as Madam Pomfrey wheeled around with a shocked expression.
"You healed him?"
"I came to thank him for a book and he was unconscious…and bleeding. I didn't even think. I just…did it." Belatedly, Hermione realized that she was in fact, still a student out of bed past curfew, and she started to squirm uncomfortably. Gryffindor would lose points for this, she just knew it.
"What did you use, my dear?" Madam Pomfrey listened to the list of potions and procedures with a satisfied nod. "Very, very well done. I'd take you for an apprentice mediwitch if you're interested. Not everyone can keep a cool head in a crisis."
Hermione felt herself blush. "Um, sure. Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."
"Well, I'm off. Severus, rest this weekend, please." Madam Pomfrey vanished in a puff of greenish smoke, leaving a naked Snape still on the couch and a fidgeting Hermione at a loss for what to do or where to look.
"You said you sought me out to thank me?" His voice was soft.
"Yes, Sir. For the book."
"It's your favorite. Madam Pince was culling the Restricted Section so I salvaged it for you."
"Thank you." Snape waved her off.
"No need. I should be thanking you. You saved my life."
"If I hadn't come to…" Hermione's breath hitched. He could have died.
"You did." Snape offered a hand. "Forgive me for not standing."
Hermione took the hand, blushing to the roots of her hair. Snape noticed and gestured to his covered lap. "Do we need to talk about…this?"
Hermione shook her head almost frantically. "Perfectly normal response, Sir, to be expected." Merlin, she was stammering. Snape looked at her almost kindly.
"Hermione." She stopped babbling and met his gaze. "Thank you. I am in your debt. Now, get to your bed before I assign the brightest witch of her age her first detention."
Hermione smiled. "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." She left the office without looking back.
XXXX
Severus watched her go, shaking his head. Insufferable little chit. Merlin, she was smart. And efficient. And…no, he wouldn't think that way. Beneath the blanket, however, his traitorous cock has different plans, swelling and rising as he replayed the feel of her soft hands on his thighs, her pursed lips blowing on his wound, so close to…
He came with a grunt, semen splattering the blanket as he gripped himself hard and whispered her name into the still of the room.
"Hermione."