Chapter 6
Hermione sat idly in Potions, wishing that the class would hurry and end. Since the arrival of Professor Slughorn, his assumption of the role of Potions Master, and the subsequent transfer of Professor Snape to DADA instruction, she found herself bored. Professor Slughorn was perfectly adequate, she supposed, and he had been the Potions Master for some years before Voldemort appeared on the scene and frightened him into transfiguring himself into inanimate objects to avoid detection. But, his teaching style was vastly different and, if she were being perfectly honest…he wasn't Professor Snape.
To add, Harry and Ron had joined the class, at the insistence of Professor McGonagall, owing to the pair of them being aspiring aurors and Professor Slughorn's willingness to accept a lesser benchmark of grade than Professor Snape had been. The first brewing had been a disaster for most, Hermione's hair resembling a chrysanthemum before it was over and her potion curdling into cement in the bottom of her cauldron. Meanwhile, Harry's Draught of Living Death was so perfect that Professor Slughorn was practically in raptures, presenting him with a vial of Felix Felicis as his reward for outstanding performance.
Hermione had grumbled over this as she attempted to scrub the sticky sopophorous bean juice from her fingers, Harry having told her that he had crushed the beans as opposed to cutting them, as her book had said to do. Harry's book was a ratty old thing with a binding that was barely intact and pages that were crammed with notations penned in a spiky hand. A very familiar spiky hand. Hermione found herself on the horns of a dilemma, knowing that the book's former owner was none other than the object of her increasing desire, and not being at liberty to say why it mattered without appearing jealous of Harry's success in class. So, she kept mum, satisfying herself with touching the book whenever Harry was not looking, tracing the inscription with her fingers.
'This Book Is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince."
Since then, the year had been nothing short of chaos. Ron had been dating Lavender Brown, who Hermione thought privately was more in love with Ron's success on the Quidditch pitch than with him. Poor Ron had vacillated between being overjoyed and appalled at the attention, even going so far as to say "all she wants to do is snog me" before complaining about his lips being chapped. Hermione's silent offer of lip balm had been accepted with his thanks scant seconds before the instrument of his injury arrived to promptly render its application useless. Harry, meanwhile, was melancholy over Ginny's romance with one Dean Thomas, and Hermione had found comfort in their mutual dampened spirits, letting Harry believe that hers was due to Ron's new relationship and not because of her internal war of emotions as they related to a certain Professor.
Now, it was after Christmas. The Burrow had been burned by the Death Eaters over the break, and Harry was becoming more suspicious of Draco Malfoy's actions by the day. Hermione was secretly concerned for Draco, not that she bore any great love for him personally. His skin was sallow, he had enormous dark circles under his eyes and he looked…frightened.
As she, Ron and Harry walked back from Hogsmeade, wading through deepening snow, their conversation was interrupted by a piercing scream. Several yards in front of them, Katie Bell lay on her back. Before any of them could react, she was jerked violently to the left and then immediately back to the right, before being levitated thirty feet into the air and then unceremoniously dropped to the frozen ground. Beside her, her friend Leanne was wailing piteously.
"I told her not to touch it!"
Hermione started towards poor Katie but Hagrid pushed past her, gathering the fallen girl into his strong arms and turning towards the castle. As he stood, he pinned Harry with a look and said firmly:
"Do NOT touch that, except fer the wrappin's."
The next events were something of a blur, culminating in the trio being interrogated by professor McGonagall. The transfiguration professor was clearly concerned, though not too much to refrain from commenting,
"Why is it, when something happens, it is always you three?"
"Believe me, professor, I've been asking myself the same question for six years." Ron replied quietly.
Before she could ask more, Minerva's glance went over Hermione's right shoulder. "Oh, Severus, thank goodness you're here."
Hermione felt her stomach give a funny little jolt as Professor Snape (Severus, he had said to call him) passed by her closely enough for his robes to brush her arm and his scent to pervade her nostrils. She felt her eyes flutter closed and when she reopened them, Severus was returning her gaze with just as much heat before turning his attention to the necklace Katie had been carrying.
"I think," he drawled laconically, "that Miss Bell is fortunate to be alive."
What followed was a tense exchange between Harry and Severus, neither willing to give quarter. Harry was insistent that Draco had been the one responsible for the cursed jewelry, Severus just as insistent that proof of the allegation was required. The situation was left unresolved in the moment but reached a head not long after.
Draco happened by and Harry followed him, even when Draco went into the girls' lavatory. Hermione rounded the corner in time to see Draco's dripping face snap up from the sink. She couldn't tell if the moisture was from water or tears but suspected a bit of both were probably at play. Harry was in a furor.
"I know what you did, Malfoy! You hexed her, didn't you?!"
Draco drew his wand and fired off a curse. Hermione barely had time to duck. Harry's return had a sink exploding into a cloud of shattered porcelain, punctuated by water flooding the floor from the burst pipes. The volley continued back and forth until Harry shouted 'Sectumsempra!' and Draco dropped like a stone to the flooded floor, bleeding profusely from what appeared to be dozens of lacerations. Draco sobbed hysterically as his shirt slowly turned crimson and Harry looked completely horrified.
Hermione felt the brush of robes on her arm again, smelled the wool and bergamot, and watched as Severus rushed to Draco's side, kneeling by Draco's side, uncaring of his robes trailing in the water or of his trousers soaking up the same. Harry fled the scene in terror and Hermione watched him go before crossing to Severus' side.
"Sir, what can I do?" she whispered.
The look Severus gave her was pure agony. He reached for her hand, grasped it with a quick squeeze and then released it just as fast. It was enough.
"Vulnera Sanentur…Vulnera Sanentur."
His voice was hypnotic, the rich baritone echoing off the walls on the lavatory to join the rush of the water and Draco's sobs. Hermione dropped to her knees beside Severus, watching as the blood rivulets in the water reversed course, seamlessly flowing back into Draco's body. The lacerations healed themselves with no trace of a scar. As the water ran clear and Draco quieted, Hermione felt Severus sag against her almost imperceptibly. Without much thinking about it, she leaned her head against his strong shoulder in response. Severus sighed and then straightened, looking down at her.
"I have to get him to Poppy."
Hermione nodded. "Go."
Severus stood, Draco in his arms, still pale. "Wait for me in my office, Miss Granger."
Hermione nodded. "Yes, sir."
She left the lavatory and made for the dungeons, entering the office and perching uneasily on the sofa Severus had bled all over not so long ago. Hermione shuddered at the memory. A rattle at the door had her springing to her feet as Severus strode through, his face still a mask of pain. Before she could utter a word, he crossed the room, gathering her in his arms and crushing her to his chest, burying his face in her hair. Hermione felt him take a shaky breath and she wrapped her arms around his firm shoulders, stroking his back and giving him support. Presently, his grip loosened, and he stepped back to look down into her eyes.
"Can you talk about it?" Hermione's voice was quiet.
He shook his head silently.
Hermione gestured to the sofa, and Severus nodded. She took a seat at one end, he in the middle, and opened her arms for him to lean into again. Severus hesitated for half a second before relaxing into the young witch's embrace, the weight of him pushing her back into the cushions. Hermione relished the feel of his head on her shoulder, the smell that was so uniquely him. Her right arm wrapped around his shoulders from the front, her left hand lifted to idly stroke his silky black hair as they sat in companionable silence, his ear over Hermione's heart.
His weight increased as he relaxed further, his breathing steadied and deepened, and Hermione realized he was sleeping. Loath to wake him, she adjusted slightly to afford a more comfortable position and let his head rest on her chest, continuing to stroke his soft hair and occasionally brushing her lips across the crown of his head.
They sat that way long into the night, Hermione humming when Severus' sleep became restless, and then singing quietly, all the while slowly stroking the raven strands that hung over his ears.
"Hush now, don't you cry. Wipe away the teardrop from your eye.
You're lying safe in bed. It was all a bad dream spinning in your head."
His restlessness eased and Hermione kept going.
"I will be watching over you. I am gonna help you see it through.
I will protect you in the night. I'm smiling next to you, in silent lucidity."
Hermione started slightly when the head on her chest murmured, "Queensryche, Miss…Hermione?" She smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
"I like hair metal." She felt Severus chuckle.
"If the witch with the lovely voice wouldn't mind, I should like to hear more." His request was quiet. Hermione kept playing with his hair as she began again.
"Rise up this morning, smiled with the rising sun. Three little birds pitch by my doorstep. Singing sweet songs of melodies pure and true. Saying, this is my message to you."
Hermione felt him sigh against her.
"Singing 'don't worry about a thing, 'cause every little thing is gonna be all right'."
Severus stirred, then sat up, turning to face Hermione. "And reggae, as well? Aren't you the eclectic one?"
"My playlist is all over the map." Hermione laughed.
"It's very…you." His voice was low. "Thank you."
"For?"
Severus gestured to the sofa. "Being here. Being you. And letting me just be."
Hermione shook her head. "No need. That's what friends do."
Severus' eyebrows shot up. "Friends? Is that what we are, then?"
Hermione swallowed hard. "I- I should like to think we are, Sir."
"Severus. It would please me greatly to hear you say my name."
"Severus." It came out on a whisper and Severus closed his eyes.
"Hermione. I should like to think that as well. I should like it exceedingly."
Severus leaned forward and Hermione's breath caught. Slowly, slowly, he leaned in, pressing his full lips to her forehead, then nuzzling her nose with his own aquiline one, before kissing the tip. His breath fanned over her parted lips before his own lips ghosted over hers. Hermione felt equal parts exhilarated and bereft when this kiss ended, such as it was. Severus regarded her with his hooded gaze for a moment before speaking.
"You…are exceptional. And as much as it pains me, I should probably allow you to return to your quarters." Severus held up a hand at Hermione's stricken expression. "Not because I desire it, because nothing could be further from the truth. I find your company…most agreeable. But so that your absence won't attract attention."
Hermione nodded, relieved at not having been dismissed out of hand, and stood. "I understand."
Severus walked to the door. "Allow me to accompany you back?" Hermione nodded.
They walked the corridors to the Gryffindor common room entrance in companionable silence. And in the voluminous folds of his teaching robes, Severus held Hermione's hand. Upon arriving, he waited as she gave the password to the fat lady, gently brushed a curl from her cheek, and bade her a good night before returning to his own rooms, falling into a dreamless sleep with the sound of her voice still in his ears.