A/N: Super long chapter for you all! You have no idea how super excited I am that these updates actually coincide with the holiday season. I couldn't have done this if I had planned it! Seriously - if I had, i would have probably missed it by three to six weeks.
Not sure when the next post will be, but hopefully near Christmas. Finals week is upon us, so I wanted to get this done in the midst of my mental lockdown. I won't get a chance to start working on Ch 45 until sometime after Friday's graduation and even then I'll have studying to do for my entrance exams.
Thank you all for reading, and I look forward to seeing all of your reviews! It will keep my spirits up during my week of academic terror!
Bound to Him
Chapter 44
Severus closed his eyes and slowly dropped into his chair. Resting his elbows on his desk, he leaned forward and held his face in his hands. He had never wanted anyone to know, but he had started to come to terms with the idea since Hermione pieced it together two and a half months ago. He still was loathe to have anyone figure it out lest it get back to the Dark Lord – or worse, The-Brat-Who-Lived – but instead of the white hot anger he had always expected to find, he only felt exceptionally exhausted and immeasurably grateful that he had silently cast a Muffliato upon Lupin's arrival in his office.
With a sigh, he rubbed his temples and leaned back in his chair. "Twenty-five years it took for you to come to that conclusion, Lupin. Speaks volumes as to the status of your mental acuity, wouldn't you say?"
"The signs were all there," Remus whispered, wiping his hand over his face. "Why didn't I see it before?"
"With your snout stuffed so far up Potter's and Black's arses, I would imagine it quite difficult for you to see anything but the shit they produced," the Slytherin muttered, though the anger in his voice had deflated considerably.
The werewolf ignored the jibe as he pulled the wooden chair towards him and sat down carefully. He eyed his colleague with apprehension for several seconds before finally scraping together the courage to voice his question. "Did you join them because you were angry with her?"
Snape's gaze suddenly snapped to him, and the man frowned deeply. "No."
"Then why? Why, if you were in love with a Muggleborn, would you ever–"
"Why? Because you weren't the only one who took friends where you could get them!" he shouted angrily as he rose out of the chair and slammed his pointer finger onto the desk top. "Because I didn't want to have to defend myself against my own House when I was already defending myself against the Almighty House of Gryffindor with no help from the staff! Because with Lily gone I had no one else! Because it was the only way my juvenile brain could come up with to keep her safe! Is that enough for you, or shall I keep going?"
Lupin, who had been wincing at the first few exclamations, suddenly widened his eyes at the last. "What do you mean 'keep her safe'?"
The Potions Master grimaced and balled his hands into tight fists as he collapsed back into his chair. He had no desire to share his secrets and motivations with the wolf, but he knew that if he stopped talking now, the buggering fool would start sniffing around him as well. It was dangerous enough with the Marauder lurking around Hermione. If he were to suddenly split his focus between the two of them, there was no hope for keeping their connection buried.
Gritting his teeth, he glared coldly at the stack of essays on his desk. "Do you think that you and your gang of merry men were the only ones who could see where the world was headed? I shared sleeping quarters and a common room with a cornucopia of future Death-Eaters – I knew exactly what was in store for Muggleborns were the Dark Lord to take power. But unlike Lily, or you, I didn't have any faith in the Headmaster as a student. If he couldn't keep the Dark Lord's propaganda out of the Slytherin dungeons, or keep four fuckwits from terrorizing half the school, what chance could he have against the Dark Lord and his army? There wasn't a doubt in my mind that the tyrant would successfully take control, and Lily would undoubtedly die. But I stupidly thought that if I were to gain his favor, then he would spare her."
"But he didn't."
"He had promised that he would," Snape murmured quietly, scratching the edge of his desk with his thumbnail. "But by then, my brain had grown in enough to know better than to trust his word."
"This is why you went to Dumbledore?" Remus stared at him as if he had never actually seen the man before.
The man slowly nodded before scowling and dropping his hand into his lap. "But even he couldn't them safe for much more than a year. He wouldn't listen to me long enough to convince them to let him be their Secret Keeper. He had too much trust in the House of Gryffindor."
"Them? You asked to protect all of them?" Lupin's eyes went wide. "Even James?"
Severus sighed and rolled his eyes. "Contrary to my own personal teenaged belief, I did not actually wish any of you tosspots dead. Mangled beyond recognition, perhaps, but not dead… except maybe Black."
The sandy-haired wizard shook his head. "I know for a fact that last bit isn't true."
When the pair of dark eyes flicked suddenly to his face, Remus tilted his head slightly. "In June, you did everything you possibly could to keep both Harry and Sirius alive and well. Harry doesn't see it, but I did."
"Yes, well, had either of the blithering idiots followed directions and stayed put…"
"I know," the werewolf sighed sadly. After a long moment of tense silence, he blew out a slow breath and leaned his elbows on his knees. Shaking his head, he raised his eyes to his colleague. "Why does no one know this?"
"The ones who needed to know knew," he muttered. "You didn't."
"But Dumbledore knows," the Defense instructor surmised.
"Obviously," Severus mumbled. "Even senile, he wouldn't trust a spy without knowing his motivations."
Lupin gave a small smirk in response and folded his arms to his chest. "And he does trust you. He's always said that love is the most powerful force. You're loyal to the Order because of Lily. You're loyal to Harry because of Lily."
"If you're expecting a treat, roll over and play dead."
The wizard let out a short bark of laughter and rose to his full seated height. "I recognize that this was not a topic you ever wished to discuss with me, but I am grateful that you have…even though it makes me feel even more like a horrible human being."
Snape met his eyes with a serious gaze. "If you tell anyone…"
"I know," he sighed. "It will be my funeral."
"On the contrary," the Potions Master stated matter-of-factly, "It will be mine."
A slight pallor spread across the other man's features as he stood from the chair. "I appreciate your trusting me, then."
"Who says I trust you?" Severus scowled.
Remus allowed himself a small smile and he scratched his forehead. "For starters, the fact that you haven't Obliviated me yet."
The dark-haired man huffed and crossed his arms. "The night is still young."
"Then I shall take my leave," the werewolf winked, "lest temptation become too great."
The Slytherin glared at him as he casually made his way toward the door. When the man reached for the knob, he sighed loudly. "Lupin, let the girl be."
Remus looked over his shoulder and donned a solemn expression. "I don't mean her any harm, Severus. I am merely concerned over her well-being."
"Then be concerned from a distance," he chided. "Watching her like she's some rat in a cage is only going to set her more on edge."
"And you would know this how?" Lupin asked, tilting his head in suspicion.
Severus let out a deep breath and dropped his gaze to the desk. "Let's just assume that I've had more experience with abuse victims than have you. Miss Granger needs to come to terms with her situation on her own. Pressuring her as you have been doing will only make matters worse. She needs to feel safe, not suffocated…which is precisely the reason why she would opt to remain here instead of travelling to the Burrow with Thing One and Thing Two."
"I suppose Molly could be considered a bit smothering," Remus shrugged, leaning his weight against the door.
"A bit?"
The man chuckled and dipped his head. "You know, for as much as you exude indifference, you seem to make plenty of observations about the welfare of others."
Snape rolled his eyes and nonchalantly grabbed the top essay from the stack. "I'm a spy and a Potions professor, Lupin. It's my bloody job to make observations."
With a small smile, the werewolf nodded his good-bye and disappeared into the dungeon corridor.
Severus calmly set the essay back atop the pile and then kicked the edge of his desk in anger. He was about to open his mouth to allow a string of expletives to escape when the familiar burn flared across his forearm.
"Fuck!" he shouted, jumping out of his chair and summoning his winter cloak from the back of the door. Shrugging it onto his shoulders, he slammed his office door shut and strode quickly down the hallway toward the stairwell. When he stormed past the Defense instructor on the second flight of stairs, the other wizard donned a look of surprise.
"Severus?" he called out. "Where are you going?"
"It seems you are not the only one wanting to chat with me regarding my motivations this evening."
Remus stopped suddenly and watched the other wizard vanish up the stairs. He let out a labored breath and closed his eyes momentarily.
"Good luck," he whispered.
XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX
Upon hearing the slamming door, Hermione let out a small gasp and stood from where she had been seated on the secret stairwell connecting the office to Snape's bedroom. She wiped at the tears trickling down her cheeks and sprinted up the staircase as quickly as she could. Pushing open the bedroom door, she rushed over to the window and pulled herself on top of the bookcase that sat in front of it.
She had an unsettling feeling as to the reason for Snape's sudden vacancy of his office. Pressing her face against the chilled glass, she could just make out the edge of the gravel path leading from the front of the castle to the large iron gates at the edge of the grounds. When she caught sight of his darkened form a few minutes later, her stomach dropped in confirmation of her fears.
Voldemort had summoned him, and she could not shake the feeling that it had something to do with her. Biting her lower lip, she pulled her feet up onto the bookshelf and curled up against the window. With her eyes fixed on the sliver of gravel she could see, she resolved herself to wait for his return.
A small meow pulled her attention briefly from the window to the floor, where her familiar was preparing himself to launch up into her lap. When he landed with a slight thump, she wrapped her arms around his fluffy torso and pulled him to her chest.
"Oh, Crooks," she murmured, burying her face into his fur, "He's going to be okay, right?"
At the cat's throaty purr, Hermione took in a deep breath and rested her head against the window. It was the first time since September that he had been summoned without her – or at least the first time that she knew about – and she could not keep herself from worrying. She could hear Dumbledore's voice echoing through her head from the memory of Snape's last sudden departure.
"He has never once failed to return –"
"In one piece?" her own voice sounded.
"Severus will be fine. He has been doing this since about the time you were born, Miss Granger."
The girl sighed and bit down on her lip. He had been deceiving the Dark Lord for nearly seventeen years because of the love he had for a woman who had been dead for more than fifteen years of that time. Based upon the fact he was still performing his duties to the Order – and the soft expression that had been on his face when speaking of her – it was clear to Hermione that he still held strong affection for Lily.
She had not intentionally set out to eavesdrop upon his conversation with Remus. She had just been heading up the stairs to find a peaceful spot to read when she heard the doors to the Great Hall being punched open and she looked back to see Snape storming toward the descending staircases. She had briefly entertained the idea of following him to see if he was alright, but she had frozen mid-step when Remus had suddenly rushed after him.
Fearing then that something had gone wrong, she had rushed up the steps and flew through the corridors until she reached the portrait entrance to his quarters. As it had done on previous occasions, the gilded frame had extended into a door and had opened at her touch. Slightly out-of-breath, the girl had moved quickly through the rooms, pushed open the back door, and had cautiously crept down the secret staircase.
She had heard the wizard slamming things around in the office, and she had paused to make sure that he was alone in the room before she actually attempted to check on him. Before she could reach the end of the staircase, however, Lupin had pushed his way into the office and the two had begun conversing – or quarreling – again.
Hermione had known she should have turned right around and gone back to Gryffindor Tower. If for any reason Snape had decided to run up to his quarters while Remus was still present, or had Remus caught scent of her, they would have both been in trouble. It had been terribly risky, but something had held her there. Without thinking, she found herself silently sinking along the wall, coming to a perch upon one of the bottom steps.
While she huddled there for what she assumed was a half hour at the very least, she barely breathed during the lulls in conversation for fear of being discovered. The men's voices were quite muffled by the stone wall separating her from the office, but she could distinguish enough of it to piece the majority of the information together.
Hermione sighed and scratched the soft patch of fur beneath her familiar's chin. While she had been angry with Remus over his still somewhat-casual attitude about their bullying – she definitely agreed that his apology had been exceptionally feeble – she could not fully condemn him for it. It was for partly the same reason that she could not fault Snape for joining the Death Eaters. She knew firsthand what it was like to want for friends and to be so desperate to curb the loneliness that sacrificing personal integrity was no longer out of the question.
Her parents had raised her to be respectful of her elders and teachers, but at the first glimmer of a possible friendship, she had lied to a number of the staff. She knew none of her professors bought the story that she had gone looking for the troll, and that they had been disappointed – or extremely displeased, as in Snape's case – in her blatant display of dishonesty. She had only progressed from there – breaking curfew, sneaking into the Restricted Section and other forbidden areas of the castle, stealing potion ingredients, and abducting reporters to name a few.
And how many times had she done Harry's and Ron's homework for them? As depressing a thought as it was, this year had been the first that she had not done any percentage of their written work for any of their classes. She had tarnished her academic integrity as well – and that was practically the only thing she had going in her favor.
Trusting Harry and Ron over herself had led to much more than a detention and broken school rules. She had taken their insistence over her own common sense time and time again, with disastrous results every time. It had led to the second rise of the Dark Lord, for Merlin's sake. She had known something was suspicious about Scabbers from the moment Crookshanks started chasing it. She had never liked that stupid rat, though, so she dismissed it as a projection of that – for a few months, at least. She should have gone to a Professor and shared her concerns, no matter how incredulous they seemed, but she had been too afraid of losing her only friends. They had still been tense with her over the Firebolt incident, and she had not wished to press their patience further. And because she had not, she had helped assault a Professor and Pettigrew had escaped to help resurrect Voldemort. How many lives in addition to Sirius's had been lost because she had not turned in a rat to McGonagall?
Hermione wiped at the tear that was slowly trickling down her cheek. She would like to think that she would never have condoned bullying or joining the ranks of an evil tyrant to secure friendship, but who honestly knew? She had already hexed Cormac, Neville, and Marietta Edgecomb to protect her friends. Not to mention, thievery, kidnapping, blackmail, sabotage, and assault were already in her repertoire.
Blowing out a long breath, she glanced down at the book she still held in her left hand. She had meant to finish the last handful of chapters that evening, but she was in no mood to read any longer. Chewing on her lip, she tossed it gently to her feet and moved her free hand to the collar of her jumper, pulling the amethyst pendant from beneath it. As she moved it back and forth along its chain, she returned her forehead to the chilled glass of the window once more and allowed Snape's admissions about Lily to replay repeatedly in her head.
It was incredibly sad; it was incredibly sweet; and the longer she thought about it, it was increasingly disheartening. Lily had retracted her friendship, married his childhood tormenter, and had been dead for a decade and a half, and yet Snape still cared for her. Hermione knew that Ron could not have had feelings of anywhere near that caliber for her. And if Ron did not, no one else ever would. Viktor had not written her in over half a year, and Cormac could not stand the sight of her any longer.
The only other option she had of being loved by a man was Snape, and his heart was already attached to a dead woman.
"Severus," she whispered softly, correcting herself as she thought. He had permitted her to use his given name when in private, and yet she could hardly use it in her own head. She thought of Remus and Sirius by their first names generally – though she had at times adopted Sna..er, Severus's manner of speaking in her head – but he had been her professor for so long that it was simply habit to think of him by his title and surname.
He had made an effort to be more personable with her, however, and had used her first name at times. If he could do that, she could at least return the favor. Plus, she figured that it would help her to distinguish between the man who stalked about the Potions classroom and the man who had promised to do everything in his power to make her life easier.
Glancing briefly toward the bed and then to the open doorway into the sitting room, the girl allowed a small smile to flicker onto her face. She no longer had to think about herself spending time in Professor Snape's quarters, for they could now be considered Severus's rooms.
Her smile quickly disappeared back into an anxious expression, though, as she returned to her silent vigil.
XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX
Nibbling on her lower lip, Hermione paced the length of the sitting room with her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection. Her stomach had been twisting violently with anxiety ever since she had spotted a black figure moving along the gravel path to the castle. Glancing up at the clock on the mantle, she realized it had been nearly twenty minutes since then and still Severus had yet to return to his chambers. She knew that he had gone to give his report to Dumbledore, but she needed to see with her own eyes that he was safe.
The witch startled to a stop when the floo flared green five minutes later. Eagerly, she moved around the edge of the sofa, clutching onto the side of it to keep herself from rushing at him when he stepped out of the grate. There was a grimace etched on his face and his eyes were closed.
"Severus?" she asked, shakily.
His eyes flashed open in surprise and he immediately looked to her concerned face. "Granger, what are you doing here?"
"I heard – er, saw you leaving," she stuttered, "and I was worried. I just wanted to make sure that you were alright."
"I'm fine," he muttered tensely, tightening his hands into fists. He pulled his gaze from hers and glanced in the direction of the door. "You may leave now."
Hermione hesitantly took a few steps in that direction, but paused halfway past the couch when she noticed how rigid his posture was. "Are you sure that you're –"
Snape opened his mouth to repeat his previous assurance, but his face erupted suddenly into a strained grimace. As an aftershock of the Cruciatus rippled through his body, his knees buckled beneath his weight and he had to catch himself by his armpits on the back of his leather armchair.
"Oh god! You're not alright!" she cried, rushing forward. "Oh god!"
The wizard pressed his forehead against the chair and sucked in a pained breath as another round of involuntary muscle contractions occurred. He squared his jaw and hissed slightly as pain flared across his spine when she gently touched his shoulder.
"Oh god, I'm sorry!" she whimpered, pulling her hand away as though it had been burned. "Is there something I can do?"
When the episode subsided, Severus slowly lowered himself to a kneeling position on the floor. He pinched his eyes shut and wiped the perspiration from his brow with the back of his sleeve. His voice was shaky as he tried to regulate his breathing. "There's a light blue potion in my bedside cabinet."
"Okay! I'll be right back, sir!" The witch sprinted into the bedroom, nearly tripping over the leg of the sofa in the process.
"And for Merlin's sake, could you stop shouting?" he snapped.
"Sorry!" she called, before wincing at the realization that she had just shouted at him once more. With panicked motions, she yanked the drawer out of the cabinet with more force than was necessary and ended up spilling all of its contents onto the ground.
"Shit," she hissed, dropping to her knees to dig through the modest pile of vials and other artifacts. At last, she grabbed one of the correct flasks and she immediately rushed back to his side. She uncorked the stopper and held it out to him. "Here."
The man snatched it from her grasp and tossed it back before his unsteady hands could spill more than a few drops onto the carpet. He tossed the empty vial away from him and then attempted to pull himself to his feet. When he stumbled slightly, Hermione grabbed hold of his elbow and helped guide him to a seat on the couch.
She let out an anxious breath upon feeling a spasm ripple through his arm, and tears began stinging her eyes as she watched him set his jaw against the pain. She removed her hand from him and used it to wipe her eyes.
"What happened, sir?" she whispered upon noticing that some of the tension had left his face. When several seconds passed without any indication of his hearing the question, she swallowed nervously and tentatively touched the sleeve of his robes. "Severus, please tell me – did this have anything to do with my not going to the Burrow with Harry?"
As he paused and then slowly started shaking his head, the girl launched to her feet and crossed her arms. "Don't lie to me!"
Snape let his eyes drift closed and sighed.
He did not need to say anything else, for Hermione had already taken it as confirmation of her fear. Feeling sick to her stomach and unable to breathe, she ran both hands through her hair and resumed her earlier pacing. "Oh my god! I should have gone! This is all my fault! I knew I should have gone! I'm so sorry!"
"Granger!" he shouted gruffly, grabbing hold of her wrist to catch her attention. "Would you stop? I've suffered worse. Merlin, you've suffered worse."
She looked at him with moist eyes and a quivering bottom lip. "But if I'd have just gone with Harry, this wouldn't have happened. This is my fault."
"STOP!" he bellowed, shaking her arm. "Stop pacing, stop talking nonsense, and for heaven's sake, would you stop blaming yourself! It was my decision on whether or not to send you, and I knew full well the consequences of that decision."
"But why –"
"Leave it be," Severus ground out, pushing off of the couch. "What's done is done, and it would be best if you left now."
She stared after him in concern. His color was worse than when he had arrived and he was exceptionally stiff as he moved past her. "Where are you going?"
"With all of your yapping, I find myself in need of headache relief," he sneered upon entering his bedroom.
Hermione narrowed her eyes and started following him. "You should be sitting down. Let me get it for you."
"I thought I told you to leave."
Frowning, she continued moving through the bedroom and into the lavatory. "I just want to help you."
Without warning, the man whirled around and glared at her. "I don't need your help! Now, leave me alone!"
"Severus, please …" Her voice died away at the sudden heat flaring across her lower back. With tears spilling down her cheeks, she cast one last glance at the unwavering look on his face before running away in the direction of his outstretched hand.
She choked back a sob when she heard the bathroom door slam shut behind her. The pain subsided as soon as she crossed the threshold into the sitting room, so she came to a stop in the middle of the room. She brought both hands to cover her face and let the tears fall.
XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX
Minerva scowled at the sound of a cat yowling at her bedroom door. She was midway through wrapping Filius's present and still had a number of the staff gifts left to go. As per usual, she was wrapping them by hand – partly as a reminder of her childhood and partly just to prove that she still could – and as per usual, it was heightening her level of frustration. There was always excess paper on the ends and trying to keep the edges straight upon trimming them was enough to set the woman to cursing beneath her breath.
"Two bloody minutes, Malina!" she shouted over her shoulder. "It hasn't been that long since you were last fed! You won't starve to death, I promise."
When another yowl sounded, the witch rolled her eyes and continued taping the package. "Shut it, ya boot!"
As she grabbed a strip of red ribbon to tie around the silver box, she gave a startled cry when a tiny black ball of fur launched out from underneath a pile of wrapping paper and attached itself to the end of the ribbon with all four sets of claws. Minerva attempted to extract the ribbon from the cat, but when that failed she sighed and let it go.
"Well if you've been in here the whole time, who's out there, hmm?" the witch muttered, stepping off of her bed. The black cat tossed a disinterested look toward the door before dragging her latest 'kill' back under her holiday-themed fortress.
The greying witch clucked in disapproval and pulled open the door to see a familiar ginger-furred tom sitting on his haunches, flicking his tail in impatience. Upon seeing that he had her attention, Crookshanks turned and trotted toward the door to the corridor.
With an eyebrow raised, McGonagall followed the sauntering feline into the hallway and down the turning flight of steps to Severus's portrait door. Not wishing to intrude upon her colleague's privacy unless it was absolutely necessary, she glanced down at the cat with a questioning expression. When the creature simply blinked and swished his tail in response, she nodded and touched her hand to the frame.
As the door swung open, the bandy-legged feline immediately darted into the room and leaped onto the sofa. Minerva stepped into the room, but paused upon seeing her favorite student curled into the corner of the sofa with tear tracks glistening down her cheeks.
"Miss Granger?" she asked in concern.
The girl's head snapped up and her eyes widened slightly as she scrambled to her feet. "Professor! Please check on him! He's hurt and won't let me help him! I tried, but he made me –"
"Slow down, Miss Granger," McGonagall stated softly, holding up two hands. "What happened?"
"He was summoned and I think he's hurt," she squeaked, gesturing in the direction of the bathroom. "I tried to help him, but he yelled at me to leave him alone. I want to know if he's alright, but I can't…I can't check...not without setting it off again."
While Minerva had been anxious over the spy's welfare, her eyes flared at the girl's last statement. "Are you in pain?"
She shook her head. "It went away when I did what he said. Please check on him!"
"Oh, I'll check on him," the elder witch grumbled, storming through the bedroom. As she threw open the bathroom door, the dark-haired wizard looked up, clearly startled. "Severus Snape, that girl is only trying to help –"
She trailed off mid-tirade upon noticing the wizard's current state. He had stripped out of his dark robes, and his bloodied, white shirt hung open so that a portion of his torso was exposed. Deep red gashes lined his pale chest, and there were a few blood-stained rags tossed into the sink basin. His shoulders were slumped slightly as he gripped tightly onto the edge of the sink with one hand while the other shook slightly as it held a wet rag.
"Severus?" Her voice faltered as she moved farther into the room.
"Close the door," he stated hoarsely. "She doesn't need to see this."
The deputy headmistress nodded in agreement and pulled the door shut behind her. She stepped cautiously towards him and gently pulled one edge of his shirt back to examine his wounds. She swallowed anxiously, noting the clamminess of his skin, and flicked her eyes up to the man's face. "Severus, these are deep. You should have gone to see Poppy."
"I'm perfectly capable of healing them myself," he snapped, trying to shrug off her hand.
"Then why haven't you?" she countered, fixing him with a pointed look.
Snape huffed and held up his wobbling hand. "Woman, I have no intention of pointing a wand at myself if I can't bloody hold it steady."
"Which is exactly why you should have gone to Poppy, you blithering imbecile." She shook her head in frustration and pointed toward the commode. "For Merlin's sake, sit down before you pass out."
The wizard muttered bitterly under his breath, but did as he was instructed.
"Why didn't Albus send you to the infirmary?"
He rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Because I managed to make it here before any of the aftershocks set in."
"So you just sat there bleeding and said nothing?" she hissed with wide eyes.
"I did not plan on there being much of a delay," he explained, wincing. "There was not a great deal to report."
The witch stared at him in disbelief and then let out a frustrated sigh. She busied herself with learning the organization of his medical supplies and spoke over her shoulder. "You've finished washing the wounds?"
"Yes," he snarled, leaning back and closing his eyes. "No need for you to lick them clean."
"Well, you must not be on death's door if you can still exert the energy to insult anyone attempting to aid you."
"I didn't ask for a nursemaid," he huffed when she spun around holding a flask of blood-replenishing potion. "And I already took one of those."
"Clearly one dose was not enough," she responded with a raised eyebrow. "That bampot poltergeist has better coloring than you do at the moment. And if you didn't think you needed my assistance, you would have forcibly removed me by now."
When Severus opened his mouth to retort, she seized hold of his chin and emptied the flask into his mouth. Coughing slightly, he swallowed the potion and glared at her. "Your bedside manner leaves something to be desired, witch."
Minerva snorted and conjured up a stool in front of him. She gingerly touched the edge of one of his gashes and apologized under her breath when he flinched. With a determined look on her face, she slipped her wand from her robes and set about working to stitch the angry flesh back together.
As she continued working, the wizard sighed and looked to the wall as he attempted to ignore the painful twinges. "Is she alright?"
The woman glanced up at him briefly before returning her focus to his abdomen. "She isn't in pain, if that's what you're asking, but she is quite upset. She's practically beside herself worrying about you."
He grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut. "I didn't mean to snap at her, but she wouldn't listen otherwise. She already thinks it's her fault and I don't want her knowing the extent of it."
"If you didn't want her knowing, then why is she here?" she asked without pausing her work.
"Well I certainly didn't invite her!" he hissed. "The last thing I needed was a welcoming party upon my return, but the blasted castle saw fit to admit her entrance without my knowledge or permission."
Minerva raised one eyebrow as she moved onto the final injury. "The castle doesn't do that."
"Apparently it does now," he sighed. "She's been breaking into my quarters nearly as long as that ruddy cat of hers has been. I know she's broken into yours as well."
"She didn't break into my quarters, Severus," the witch corrected, surveying the results of her spellwork. "I left instructions with Reginald that she be allowed entrance if ever she were in need."
"Who the… fuck… is Reginald?" he ground out, grimacing as he suffered through a short episode of muscle spasms.
The witch averted her sad gaze to the cupboard, from where she extracted a bottle of dittany.
"The cub in my painting," she answered quietly as she returned to her stool. She dribbled a few drops of the cold, brown liquid along the freshly-sealed flesh to prevent scarring. "The castle is sentient, yes, but it does not bid anyone entrance to staff quarters unless permission of some sort has been given and recognized."
Snape narrowed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. "Then what the bloody fuck…"
"Severus," the woman stated, catching his attention. "Why does Hermione think it's her fault? And why am I playing nursemaid right now instead of wrapping your Christmas gift?"
The wizard sighed and hung his head slightly. "The Dark Lord was not thrilled that I didn't convince the Headmaster to send her with Potter for the holiday. When he tired of expressing his displeasure with me, he delegated the task to a few other eager individuals."
McGonagall frowned angrily as she stared at the pink lines on his chest. She shook her head and stood from her stool. "You were expecting this, weren't you?"
He looked to the floor and sighed deeply, causing the new skin on his chest to pull uncomfortably. "She wished to remain here, but it was my decision. This is not her fault."
"I know." The witch sighed and gently placed her hand on his head. "You're a good man, Severus. Unbelievably stupid, but still a good man."
She removed her hand, vanished the stool, and flicked her wand at the tub. "A good man who is incredibly lucky to still be conscious and who needs to bathe and sleep."
Snape glared at the back of her head and attempted to fold his arms across his chest only to wince and drop his hands back to his lap. When she had finished filling the tub and turned to look at him expectantly, he scowled. "You can desist with your mothering now."
"Oh I can, can I?" she smirked, folding her arms. "Are you capable of getting in and out of the tub without falling and cracking your skull?"
"Yes," he snapped. After she raised an eyebrow in challenge, he huffed bitterly and pushed himself off of the commode. He took two steps toward the tub and raised his arms. "Satisfied?"
"You won't drown in the event of another –"
"No. The potion has reduced the tremors."
Minerva grunted and put her hand on the door knob. "If you feel faint, give a shout."
"Go," he grumbled, resting against the edge of the tub.
The witch gave a tired sigh at seeing the slight quiver in his arms, but relented and pulled open the door. Before shutting it behind her, however, she wordlessly cast a divesto over her shoulder.
"Woman!" came his muffled, angry shout.
"Get in the tub," she yelled through the door, shaking her head. She knew it was rude of her to do, but she did not want to take the risk that he would injure himself further because he was too stubborn to take his boots off with magic. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, waiting until she heard the sound of him slipping into the water before stepping away from the door.
Feeling Hermione's anxious gaze on her, the witch turned and gave her a brief reassuring smile. Before joining her in the sitting room, however, she moved over to the bed and turned down the covers. Noticing the up-turned drawer on the floor, she quickly set to righting the mess and then stood again to make sure nothing else in the room required adjusting.
Pausing for a moment, she grabbed hold of one of the bed posts and covered her mouth with her hand. Stifling a sob, she blinked away the tears that were threatening to form in her eyes. Blowing out a deep breath, she smoothed her hands down the front of her robes and raised her chin as she stepped away from the bed.
"Is he alright?" Hermione gasped, wrapping her arms tightly about her waist.
McGonagall gave a tense smile and nodded her head. "He just needs rest and he'll be back to his usual self."
The girl nodded nervously and collapsed onto the sofa. "I didn't mean to make him angry."
"It wasn't you," she sighed, taking a seat beside her student. She gently patted the girl's hand and glanced at the fire. "Severus is not angry with you, and he regrets giving you that impression. He's just overwhelmed and tired –"
"And in pain," the younger witch moaned, covering her face. "I should have just gone with Harry."
"Miss Granger…Hermione, listen to me," the professor stated softly, taking the girl's hands in hers. "This is not your fault. Severus knows it isn't. I know it isn't. You need to know that it isn't."
The girl took in a shuddering breath and leaned forward as tears began falling down her cheeks again. When she finally nodded, the elder witch wrapped her arms about the girl's shoulders. Hermione slipped her own arms around the woman's waist and hid her face in the soft velvet of her robes.
Minerva slowly rubbed along the girl's spine with one hand and protectively placed the other hand at the back of the girl's head. Rocking slightly, she whispered quiet reassurances into the girl's ear.
"Professor?" Hermione asked a few minutes later.
"Hmmm?"
The young Gryffindor pulled away slightly and wiped her eyes. "He's really okay?"
"As much as I hate to say this, Hermione," she responded sadly, "he's been through much worse. Give him a day to recover and he'll be stalking about the corridors, stripping Gryffindor of every point he can manage."
The girl snorted softly and replaced her head on the woman's chest. "Do you think I can stay here tonight?"
"Well, I don't think Severus is in any position to toss us out," Minerva smirked, settling more comfortably against the back of the couch. She tightened her hold on the girl and then looked over her shoulder when she heard the bathroom door open. Squinting, she made out the man's form moving stiffly through the darkened room and collapsing onto the bed. She heard the rustling of the bedcovers and then looked down in surprise when the ginger cat jumped off the back of the couch and ambled confidently into the dark bedroom. Snorting softly, she rested her head against the sofa and closed her eyes.
No position at all.
XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX
At the feel of something wet scratching his forehead, Severus propped one eyelid open. Grunting at the sight of the fluffy nuisance licking his face, he lazily pushed the cat away and struggled to sit upright. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced at the low light streaming in from the window and decided it must be nearing eight. When his bladder agreed, he groaned softly and forced his aching body out of bed.
After relieving himself, he hobbled out of the bathroom and glanced into the sitting room. Upon seeing Hermione stretched out on the sofa, he let out a sigh and moved over to his wardrobe. Ripping open the bottom drawer, he pulled out the Gryffindor-themed tartan throw and began slowly moving into the living area.
As he unfolded the blanket, the sound of light snoring caught his attention. Glancing in that direction, he rolled his eyes at seeing Minerva asleep in his armchair, with her feet propped up on a transfigured ottoman.
"Turning into a bloody boarding house now," he sputtered, tossing the blanket over the younger witch. With a shake of his head, he began limping back to his room.
"Severus?"
He stopped at the gravelly voice and took in a deep breath before turning around. "Yes?"
"I would have assumed you would have burned that hideous thing by now," McGonagall murmured softly.
Snape raised one eyebrow and glanced at the blanket that the sleeping girl had instinctually pulled up to her chin. "The thought had crossed my mind."
"Why didn't you?"
He shrugged slightly and leaned against the door jamb. "I figured it would be impolite for one to burn all of his Christmas gifts."
"Well if you didn't burn that, I can't imagine you burning anything else," she chuckled.
"Just Albus's socks."
When she laughed loudly, he glared at her and flicked his gaze towards the girl. She did not stir, however, and Minerva whispered an apology while shifting in her chair. "I generally just leave mine out as a present for Dobby. I can't remember what I did before he showed up."
"So you're the one encouraging him," he sneered softly. "You wouldn't also happen to be the source of those god-awful knit hats?"
"No," she smirked. "Though I do believe she is snoozing on your couch right now."
"Of course she is." He rolled his eyes and gently pushed away from the wall. "Bleeding heart Gryffindors."
"Severus," McGonagall whispered more seriously. When he paused in his motions, she continued. "If it will make it easier for you, she is willing to stay with the Weasleys."
Snape winced slightly but nodded. "I will take it into consideration. Now if you will excuse me, I have no compulsion to pass out while standing."
He took a few more steps into the bedroom and then glanced back at her again. "See to it that she doesn't drool all over my furniture."
The elderly witch snorted and crossed her arms. "I shall do my best. Good night, Severus."
"Good night, Minerva," he mumbled before shutting the bedroom door.
Technically it was well into the morning, but Severus did not bother correcting her. Grimacing at the lighted window, he drew the curtains with a flick of his wrist and then collapsed back onto the mattress. He drew the covers over his shoulder, closed his eyes, and did not utter a single complaint when the ginger cat curled up against the side of his head.
XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX
Hermione yawned as she stepped into the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning. Since the ominous times had everyone on edge, there were only a handful or two of students left in the entire castle. As such, the elaborately decorated Great Hall held a lone, long table covered in a twinkling white cloth. The dais where the staff table normally sat now hosted three rather ostentatious fir trees.
Sighing softly, she slowly pulled a chair out from the table and gave a small smile to the two Hufflepuff siblings who were already halfway through their bowls of porridge. Since they seemed perfectly content in conversing amongst themselves, she pulled the plate of pastries closer to herself, selected the most appetizing one, and then cracked open her book.
She had finished reading the first tome the day before as there was little else for her to do. McGonagall had shooed her out of Severus's quarters shortly before lunch, explaining that he would simply be sleeping the rest of the day and did not need them harassing him further. Neither of them could coax Crookshanks out of the bedroom, however, so the Deputy Headmistress decided Severus would just have to deal with the furry interloper.
As Gryffindor Tower was currently only hosting four students over the holiday break – two third years and a first year in addition to Hermione – there was no one really to engage her in conversation, so the witch had spent the majority of the day reading in the Common Room. After supper, she had toiled over her Arithmancy project for a few hours in the Library before retiring to bed early.
"Good morning, Miss Granger!"
The witch raised her eyes from the book to see that the other students had since left and that Professor Flitwick had appeared at the table. With a smile, she returned his jubilant greeting. "Good morning, Professor."
"Slept well, I hope," the diminutive wizard smiled as he reached for a platter of toast.
"Quite well, yes," she nodded, closing her book. It was not a lie. She had slept much better knowing that Snape was alive and mending. She was no longer worried about him, knowing that both her Head of House and her familiar were keeping an eye on him.
"Any Christmas gifts you're looking exceptionally forward to?" he asked after swallowing a mouthful of bread and jam.
Hermione wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Not really, no. What about you, Professor?"
Filius chuckled. "Oh, no. The few gifts I get from my Ravenclaws are generally enjoyable, but I'm afraid that's about it. Minerva usually does well, I suppose, but I can always expect a ghastly pair of pants from my brother and an equally garish pair of socks from the Headmaster."
"Oh dear," she grimaced, pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice. "That doesn't sound fun at all."
He shrugged and winked as he leaned across the empty seat between them. "It doesn't bother me really, you see. Next Christmas, my brother will undoubtedly receive a garish pair of socks, and the Headmaster a ghastly pair of pants."
The girl giggled quietly and folded her arms onto the table.
"Quite a coincidence if I do say so myself," the Charms Professor grinned, settling back in his chair.
"Indeed it is," she nodded before taking a sip from her glass.
"Have you had any thoughts regarding what you'd like to do after Hogwarts?"
"Oh, erm, not really," she mumbled, setting down her glass. "I guess I haven't thought about it."
"It's never too early to start thinking!" Flitwick remarked, leaning forward. "Have you looked into any of the Wizarding Universities?"
The witch grimaced internally as she shook her head.
"Well, you have a bit of time left," he shrugged, wiping at some crumbs on the table. "And if ever you need a reference from someone other than Minerva, I would be more than willing to write you a glowing recommendation!"
"Oh, well, thank you for –"
"Ah, Severus!" the half-goblin called, causing Hermione to glance up in surprise. "You look well-rested!"
The tall wizard grunted and pulled out a chair across the table from his colleague. "Yes, it is remarkable how restful it is not having any of the urchins under foot."
The girl snorted under her breath and picked up her book again. Relief flooded through her both at seeing Snape looking well and since it appeared that Flitwick's attention was focused elsewhere.
Filius shook his head and grabbed his goblet of juice. "With how much you complain about the students, Severus, it has always surprised me that you would have decided to pursue a career in teaching."
"Perhaps it was simply to upend your knowledge of the universe, Filius," the Slytherin replied, filling his plate. "Clearly, there can be no other explanation."
While Hermione smiled behind her book, the other professor raised his brow slightly at seeing the amount being piled onto the plate. "I honestly do not remember you ever taking so much food."
"Is it suddenly not allowed?" he scowled with an eyebrow raised in challenge. "Or am I now required to wait until you've turned your head to stuff my pockets?"
The young Gryffindor bit down on her lip to keep from laughing aloud while Flitwick sputtered a nervous response.
"No, no, of course not! It was merely an observation, Severus! I did not mean to suggest you were doing anything wrong – just that it was out of the ordinary for you."
Snape sighed lightly as he picked up his fork. "I did not have much to eat yesterday."
"Oh," the Ravenclaw nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Caught up in your work again, were you?"
"One could say that," the dark-haired man replied casually before taking a bite of sausage. He spent a few minutes eating quietly before clearing his throat. "Has no one ever told you, Miss Granger, that it is rude to read at the dining table?"
Her earlier amusement now sobered by the turn in topic, Hermione slowly lowered her book and met his seemingly disapproving expression. "My apologies, Professor. I was not under the impression that you wished me to participate in conversation."
The corner of his eyes pinched slightly before he folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "I did not mean to engage you in conversation, Granger. I merely wished to point out that your table manners leave something to be desired."
Eyes burning slightly, the girl willed herself not to say anything stupid as she snapped her book shut and set it beside her plate. "I am terribly sorry to have offended you, sir."
"Oooh, Severus is offended again, eh?" Professor Sprout smirked as she took a seat directly beside the man. "It's nice to know that we can depend upon some things never changing."
"Must we, Pomona?" Snape sighed, angling his head in the girl's direction.
"Oh, pish-posh," the woman chuckled, winking at Hermione. "Miss Granger is one of the most respectful students we have. I think it might do her some good to shake-up her perspective a bit."
His eyebrows narrowed as he viewed the plump witch with suspicion. "And just how intoxicated are we this morning, hmm?"
Pomona tittered quietly as she fixed herself a cup of tea, but said nothing.
Flitwick sheepishly ducked his head and cleared his throat. "Hagrid hosted a small gathering last night."
"Of course he did," Severus sighed.
"We were going to invite you, but Minerva mentioned that you were indisposed and would not be interested in joining us," the small wizard explained.
"Indeed." He rolled his eyes and glanced in the girl's direction. Hermione was chewing on her lip, flicking her curious gaze between the three Heads of House. When she caught his eyes briefly, she blushed lightly and averted her attention to the glass of pumpkin juice in front of her. Shaking his head slightly, Severus raised his eyebrows at the witch beside him. "And while the two of you are interested in airing dirty laundry in front of the students, are Poppy's stores of Hangover-Relief potions holding up under the strain of your gaiety?"
"Oh, they'll get us through the New Year, more than likely," Sprout smirked, picking up her teacup. "And stop fussing about your reputation where Granger is concerned. She wouldn't share your secret with anyone, now would you?"
Hermione gave an awkward smile as she shook her head.
"See!" Pomona grinned, gesturing with her head. "Who knows? Perhaps she'll even have a faculty position here one day."
"Now that is an option," Flitwick beamed at the young witch. "I know you haven't thought much about your future, but you would be well suited to a career in teaching."
"Erm, thank you," the girl stammered, folding her arms on the table. "I'll, erm, keep that in mind."
When the other two professors glanced at her in excitement, the Slytherin drew in a bored breath as he picked up his fork once more. "And just whom are we hypothetically sacking for her to do so?"
Pomona shrugged as took a sip of her tea. "Well, I've heard on several occasions that she shows a remarkable talent in brewing potions."
His eyes snapped to her in a glare and then to Filius when the Charms Professor laughed lightly.
"You never know, Severus," he smiled. "By then you may have tired of upending my knowledge of the universe and would welcome the reprieve. Perhaps you'll even have your own little urchins under foot that you'll be busy looking after."
Sprout snorted and barely managed to avoid spraying tea across the table. When she had wiped her mouth with her napkin, she shook her head and chortled. "Oh yes, Severus. Time is ticking away, isn't it? You only have another decent eighty to a hundred years left in you after all."
"For fuck's sake," he snarled, pushing out of his chair. "The two of you are utterly repulsive. With any luck, Pomona, the Chomping-Ferns will get you and then Longbottom can gain employment as well."
He grabbed his plate of food, and paused momentarily upon noticing the uneasy expression on Hermione's face as she stared at the table. "Granger, does your eavesdropping interfere with your ability to eat?"
The young witch hesitantly raised her eyes to his. She recognized that his pointed stare was to be taken as an instruction to eat more than half of a cream cheese Danish, and as he stormed away with his plate in hand, she silently began picking at the remainder of the pastry.
"Oh, don't fret, Granger," Pomona snickered, sharing a glance with her Ravenclaw counterpart. "Between Filius and I, we can scrounge up enough points for Gryffindor to make up for any he takes away from you."
Hermione attempted a weak smile, but it quickly faltered as did her appetite. She pushed her plate away from her and after a few minutes, she politely excused herself from the hall.
XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX
Later that afternoon, Hermione sat curled up in the window seat of her room, staring out at the snowflakes being battered about by the wailing winds. She shivered lightly and wrapped her arms tight around her waist as she continued muddling through her thoughts. The conversation in the Great Hall really should not have bothered her, and yet it had.
She had felt strangely ambushed by Flitwick's innocuous questions about her future plans, and Sprout had only contributed to her rising anxiety. Looking at University and thinking about careers was something that normal people did. She was no longer normal, so why should she? And what did it matter anyway if she would not be around to accomplish those goals?
Death had always been at the back of her mind as a possible outcome for her involvement in the war. She had not given it much thought during her first two years at Hogwarts, but every subsequent year the probability of that outcome had increased bit by bit. How could it not when she had narrowly escaped an attack by a werewolf or watched as Harry brought back Cedric's body from the maze? After the battle at the Ministry, the severity of her injuries had again made her consider the fact that she had cheated Death once more.
But how many times could someone cheat Death before he came to collect? She had known that dying was a possibility for years, but somehow she had always chucked it in the 'slim to none' bin. Everything that had happened since August, however, had changed that. Death had suddenly become the most likely outcome in her head. After nearly drowning in the Black Lake, nearly suffocating on pain in Snape's classroom, ignoring the binding magic's need for renewal until she had reached the point that she could not walk on her own, and sitting in this very spot as she contemplated taking her own life, she had had more near-death experiences in the span of a few months than she had had in the rest of her seventeen years on Earth.
Being in the presence of Lord Voldemort was akin to staring into the face of Death himself. His hissing voice grated on her nerves, his piercing red eyes made her feel as though she were about to shrivel up and die, and the iciness of his hand on her skin was similar enough to a dementor sucking the soul from her body. Every time she had gone before him, she had fully doubted whether she would ever make it back.
And with her life bound to Severus's, the margin for survival was that much slimmer. She had been made painfully aware of that fact two nights prior when he had collapsed into convulsions in front of her. The Dark Lord had done that to him even though he believed the spy's loyalty lay with him. If he were ever to discover otherwise, Severus was a dead man. The idea that he had another eighty years left in him had about a snowball's chance in hell of holding true.
With that in mind, Hermione saw no point in daydreaming about a future that was not likely to exist. She was exhausted enough focusing on the here-and-now, so she would not waste the energy thinking about which aspect of the magical world she was best suited for or whether or not Severus would actually desire children at some point in time.
That's a strange thought, regardless of the outcome. The girl sighed and rubbed her face. Three months prior she had been panicked beyond belief at the idea of carrying his child, and now she found herself trying to suppress the disappointment that had sparked with the notion of not living long enough to raise children.
Stop thinking about it! She frowned and lightly smacked the back of her head against the wall. It doesn't do you any good to dwell on it, so just leave it be!
Realizing that she needed something to do to take her mind off of depressing topics, the witch slid off of the window seat and moved toward her desk. She glanced briefly at the pile of library books, but crinkled her nose at the idea of working on Arithmancy again. With a sigh, she picked up the book she had been reading at breakfast. Before she crawled onto her bed, her attention was caught by the red envelope poking out from the top desk drawer.
Biting down on her lip, she pulled out the card she had addressed to her parents. She had bought the card when in Hogsmeade and had written it out with the intention of asking Severus to deliver it before Christmas. That had been before his summoning, however, and now she could not quite find the courage to ask him. There were only two more days before the holiday, and the last time he had taken her letter, he had been gone all day. She did not feel right asking him to go if he was still recovering, and she had no wish to send him out on Christmas Eve. There was no doubt in her mind that if she were to ask, he would do it even if he were not feeling well enough to go.
"It'll just have to be a New Year's card instead." Shaking her head, she slipped the card back in the drawer and collapsed on her bed. She scratched Crookshanks under the chin and kissed him on the head before cracking open her book. As she settled into reading, the cat curled up against her thigh and began snoring softly.
'Granger.'
Hermione raised her eyebrows at the voice in her head, but continued reading. 'Yes?'
'If you are not…if you would…Sod it, Granger! Would you put the damn book down? It's bloody distracting.'
'Sorry.' She snorted softly and let the book fall closed on her chest.
'If you would, quickly pack a travel bag and be in my quarters in an hour.'
'Travel?' she took in an anxious breath as she pulled herself into a seated position. 'You're taking me to the Burrow, aren't you?'
When he said nothing immediately in reply, she pushed off of the mattress and crossed to her wardrobe. 'It's okay if you are. I'm happy to go.'
'One hour, Granger.'
XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX
Less than forty-five minutes later, Hermione stepped across the threshold into his quarters with a sizeable bag slung over her shoulder.
"You've finished already?" Severus asked, glancing up from his chair.
She nodded and set the bag on the couch. "Yes, I believe so."
"I was under the impression that most women take ages to pack a bag."
"Most women, perhaps," she sighed scratching her neck. "Not me. At least not when I know what to expect. If I don't know the circumstances, then yes, I will panic and attempt to pack everything I could possibly need."
Grunting in approval, the wizard stood from his chair and tossed on his winter cloak before snatching her luggage from the sofa. Slinging it over his shoulder, he then picked up another sack from the end table that he dropped into a pocket of his cloak.
As she watched him, the girl sighed and then donned her own outer wear. As she finished pulling on her gloves and tucking her scarf into her coat, she glanced up to see that he had moved beside her.
"Are you ready?" he asked. At her nod, he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her against his frame. Before she could manage a surprised squeak, he accio-ed a small book from the highest shelf in the room. As it hit his hand, the room spun quickly into a whirling blur and was then replaced by an outdoor scene.
Gasping, Hermione stepped away from him and glanced around at the snowy hilltop where they had just appeared. With a frown, she looked back at him. "You used a portkey?"
"Obviously."
Her eyebrows narrowed considerably as she folded her arms against her chest. "Was that a legal portkey?"
Snape gave her a pointed look as he slipped his woven bag from his pocket and stowed the book in it.
"I'll take that as a no." The witch sighed good-naturedly and took a few steps to peer out over the quiet and unfamiliar valley. A gentle snowfall was occurring, in stark contrast to the winter storm that was plaguing the Hogwarts castle. "Where are we? This doesn't look like anywhere near the Burrow. I don't recognize anything at all."
"Is it necessary for you to question everything?" he grumbled.
Hermione spun around in surprise. "What? Aren't you the one always telling me not to follow blindly?"
"True enough," he grunted, digging in his bag.
"And I was just curious," she mumbled, returning to her surveying of the territory. "I trust you enough to know you're not leading me into a trap."
"We are not terribly far from Ottery St. Catchpole actually. No more than thirty kilometers," the wizard responded as he pulled out two miniature broomsticks. With a flick of his wand, he returned them to their original size and held one out to her as she looked back to him.
Her eyes widened in surprise and she shook her head emphatically. "Oh no no no! I'm not flying. Absolutely not!"
"And why the hell not?"
"Because!" she hissed, waving her arms about frantically. "I hate flying! I hate brooms! I can't do it. I won't do it."
Severus's features morphed into disbelief. "Well, we're not using magic to travel any farther. We can't run the risk of being traced, and we sure as hell are not walking such a distance."
The girl shook her head again at the proffered broom and crossed her arms in defiance. "Then I have no idea what we're going to do, because there is no way I'm flying that anywhere."
Rolling his eyes and muttering nastily under his breath, he minimized the second broomstick and stuffed it back into the sack in his pocket. Gripping the other broom securely, he gracefully swung one leg over it and settled in the middle of the stick. Sliding forward slightly and kicking off the ground, he cursed under his breath when the floating broom began to wobble slightly. Upon landing, he cautiously slid further towards the back of the broom, readjusted the bag on his right shoulder and once again tested its stability in flight. Satisfied that it would remain steady under his control, he artfully glided to a stop in front of the girl. Grabbing hold of her hand, he gently tugged her forward and gestured for her to sit in front of him.
Letting out a shuddering breath, Hermione glanced nervously at the floating broom and attempted to swallow her fear.
Frowning at the feel of her hand quivering in his, the wizard cleared his throat. "You really are scared of flying, aren't you?"
"What was your first clue?" she snapped lightly.
Severus sighed and rubbed his forehead with his other hand. "What is it that makes you most uncomfortable?"
"The whole possibility-of-falling bit."
"That's simple enough," he muttered. "A temporary sticking charm will easily secure your arse to the broom."
The girl whimpered slightly and unconsciously squeezed his hand. "And then there's the whole seeing everything whizzing at you and beneath you."
"Perhaps closing your eyes would help," he smirked. At her glare, he let out a deep breath and shook his head. "Alright, fine. This is what we will do. If you sit facing me, it will reduce the amount of motion you experience, and if you place your head on my shoulder, I believe I will still be able to see enough around that bushy-hair of yours to keep us from colliding with anything."
Eventually nodding, Hermione hesitantly mounted the broom as per his instructions. She wrapped her legs about his waist, slipped her arms around his torso, and tucked her head against his left shoulder.
Wincing at the intimacy of their positioning, the wizard coughed quietly and tapped her on the back. "Granger, you're not going to fall. You do not need to hold on quite so tightly."
"I know," came her muffled response, though she made no effort to loosen her grip.
Willing himself to not get distracted by anything other than flying, he leaned forward enough to place both hands on the broom handle. As he kicked off of the ground, he whispered to himself. "Try not to get any ideas in your head."
Gulping at the sensation of the broom leaving the ground, she shook her head against his collarbone. "I'll be too busy trying not to vomit to think about anything else."
Severus snorted as he ascended to an appropriate height to give them cloud cover. "Vomit on me, Granger, and there will be serious repercussions."
"Noted," she whispered, closing her eyes. Taking in a deep breath, she relaxed slightly as the scent of his robes filled her nostrils. On top of his normal smell – which she had no idea how to classify – there was a hint of peppermint, ginger, and something else – fennel, maybe. "Were you brewing today?"
The man raised one eyebrow and briefly glanced down at the witch wrapped around him. "Are you sniffing me?"
"Not on purpose," she clarified. "It's kind of hard not to at the moment."
"Well, beggars cannot be choosers," he stated simply.
Hermione frowned without opening her eyes. "I didn't say it was bad. It's rather nice actually, I think. It's calming my stomach a bit."
"I imagine it would," he muttered with an amused shake of his head. "I did not take Pomona at her word and spent the morning brewing another batch of Hangover-Relief potion."
"Ah," she whispered softly, burrowing her nose into the collar of his robes to protect it from the chill of the air. With the strong warmth of his body pressed against hers and his arms firmly secured around her body, she was nowhere near as affected by her fear of flight as she had when riding on Buckbeak or the thestral. Resolving herself to silence for the remainder of the trip, she simply focused on keeping herself relaxed.
As the sky darkened into early evening, Snape was amazed by her ability to remain quiet. He would have assumed that she had fallen asleep were it not for the fact that any slight drops in altitude or turns in direction caused her to make a squawking sound and clench her thighs. Other than that, his only other complaint was that her hair liked to flit about in the wind, tickling his nose and poking him in the eye. He could deal with it for the short remainder of this flight, but on the return trip the witch would definitely be forced to tie it back.
Recognizing his intended destination, the wizard slowed the broom's speed and smoothly descended to the small forested area. When his boots touched the snow-covered earth, he let go of the broom handle and leaned backwards. Wincing slightly at the popping of a few vertebrae, he cleared his throat and tapped the girl on the hip. "Granger, dismount please. I am starting to lose feeling in my legs."
Hermione's eyes popped open and she pulled her head back enough to notice that they were in fact on solid ground. With a mumbled apology, she extricated herself from his frame and promptly fell off of the broom into a pile of snow. As the sound of laughter filled her ears, she glared up at him from the ground. "It's not funny!"
"I believe that's a matter of opinion," he sneered, easily alighting from his broom. He held out one hand to offer her assistance. With a huff, she grabbed onto him and was immediately grateful for his support when she nearly fell over again. He waited somewhat patiently during the few minutes it took for her hips and legs to begin functioning normally, before dropping her hand.
When he picked up the broom and began walking away from her, she quickly scampered after him. As they walked through the dark copse of trees, she made sure to keep close enough to him that she could grab him if need be. Upon reaching the edge of the woods, she frowned in confusion.
"This isn't the Burrow," she remarked as she peered around him and caught sight of a small cottage. The curtains in the windows had been pulled shut, but she could see light through them and a wisp of smoke spilled out from the chimney into the starry sky.
Severus snorted as he led her up the small lane to the front door. "I do not recall ever saying it was."
The girl blinked at him in response and then bit down on her lip as she huddled behind him on the narrow front steps. A sudden bout of nerves had begun at the realization that she had no clue as to where she was. When he knocked on the door, she swallowed anxiously and gripped a handful of his cloak.
"He's here again!" a muffled voice called out before the wooden door was pulled open to reveal a smiling, middle-aged woman. "Professor! It's good to see you again. Are you here for our Christmas gift instructions?"
"Making a delivery, actually," he responded.
Hermione's eyes had widened at the familiar voice and her heart was pounding in her ears. Pushing out from beneath his left arm, tears began welling up in her eyes as she took in the sight of the greying brunette standing in the doorway.
"Mum!" her voice cracked slightly as she squeezed past Snape.