Play, Outcast, Play - Chapter III
Jul. 5th, 2005 08:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lady_kareliaHermione was dreaming. Someone in need was calling to her when voices from somewhere above tugged at the edge of her not quite yet regained consciousness. “We have to inform the headmaster...” “Yes, I agree.... Oh Poppy, I simply cannot imagine that she of all people would be so silly and not take precautions...” “Minerva, it only takes one time, and just because she is always so perfect at school doesn’t mean she is perfect in every way!” “No... But she simply doesn’t strike me as the type to... I can’t imagine...” A snort in reply. Darkness again.
There was the call again. More voices. “Are you absolutely certain, Poppy?” “Headmaster, do you doubt my abilities as a mediwitch? I may not come across this condition often, but I do recognize a pregnancy when I see one!” Words spoken indignantly. “Maybe Severus can shed some light on the situation when he wakes up. Although I doubt it, even though... They were both brought in together.” The Headmaster’s soothing voice again. The mediwitch’s next words catapulted Hermione into consciousness and made her want to jump out of bed. “If Severus wakes up, Headmaster. He’s been completely unresponsive to any treatment. I’ve tried everything I could think of, and it’s been nearly forty-eight hours.” Hermione heard several steps slowly fading away. A door snapped shut. She opened her eyes and recognized Hogwart’s hospital wing in the dim lights that were always left on. Looking to one side, she recognized the prone form of Professor Snape on a bed on the opposite wall. She felt, rather than heard the call for help again.
Hermione slowly made her way out of bed, her mind still feeling slightly fuzzy and her body as stiff as if hit with an arthriticus curse. She staggered to Professor Snape’s bed and even before she reached him her hands started to glow. Holding her palms barely above his body, almost touching his chest, she could feel the life force that had been drained out of him. McNair’s curse, Hermione thought and silently urged him to hold on, watching the turquoise energy emitting from her hands enter his body steadily. After a few minutes, she realized it was to no avail. He was not reacting to the healing energy and still getting weaker.
“Come on, you dolt! You can’t just rescue me and then die, it’s not fair!” Panic surged through her as she remembered Lucius Malfoy’s fate and she wondered if her healing power had suddenly turned into some killing force. “Please, Professor! If you hadn’t turned up when you did I would have died, and I would have been happy to. Don’t just die on me. Please,” she whispered desperately.
Looking at her hands, she noticed the colour flowing out of her hands change to a silvery white, with intermittently woven threads of what she could later describe only as ‘other-worldly pink’. It was not baby pink, nor was it Barbie pink, it was not even rose pink. She had never seen this shade of pink, which was displaying a soothing, almost palpably happy quality to its flow. Nevertheless, she concentrated on the healing energy streaming now faster from her hands into Professor Snape’s body. Finally, she could feel his life force increase in strength again, and soon the colours faded, until her hands went back to their normal skin colour. Having completed her task, she returned to her bed, exhausted from walking the short distance between her professor’s bed and her own.
Hermione had barely settled into her hospital bed, getting comfortable and ready to fall asleep, when the door opened to reveal a grim looking Madam Pomfrey. The moment she reached her bed, she started to speak. “Now, Miss Granger, that you’re awake, maybe you can tell me who the father is.”
“What?” Hermione looked blankly at the mediwitch.
“Oh, don’t pretend to be stupid, Miss Granger! You can’t tell me you are not aware of your pregnancy! We need to inform the father!” Madam Pomfrey said, clearly annoyed.
Scenes of the past weeks suddenly flickered in front of Hermione’s mind. Her feeling nauseous at the mere thought of anything sweet. Her playing around with food because she was not hungry. Her aching breasts, as if they had grown and the skin not quite adjusted to their new size. Her missing periods. “No! Not that as well,” she wailed in desperation.
“You should have thought about that possibility before the act,” Madam Pomfrey said, her voice carrying a nasty undertone. A movement on the other bed caught her attention and she left Hermione’s side, uttering, “You will tell me who the father is, Miss Granger. Have no doubt.”
Hermione noticed Professor Snape stir and later wake up only on the periphery of her awareness, too devastated to feel even relief that he was finally recovering. She spent the remainder of the night curled up staring unseeing at the wall.
Hermione barely looked up when Madame Pomfrey swept in, looking more cheerful than the previous night. “Right, Miss Granger. You will drink this tonic, and then we will have a talk,” the mediwitch instructed in her typical don’t-mess-with-me voice and grabbing her chin with thumb and forefinger she forced Hermione’s mouth to open and poured the potion down before she could react.
The young witch, still exhausted from recent events and sleep-deprived from trying to digest the devastating news of her pregnancy, coughed at the rough administration of the potion and realized only after she had swallowed most of the liquid that it was laced with veritaserum.
“Now, Miss Granger. Who did you sleep with?”
“No-one,” Hermione replied in a toneless voice.
“Don’t be ridiculous, girl! You are pregnant, there is no doubt about it,” Madame Pomfrey admonished her. “Who is the father?”
“Lucius Malfoy.”
Madame Pomfrey’s face turned white upon hearing the evildoer’s name. “Oh my Gods, what have I done?” Her words were spoken in barely a whisper as if all life had been drained out of her. “I need to see Albus... No.... No... It can’t be...” With that, she abruptly turned and broke into a fast walk towards the door, exiting her domain, never hearing her other patient’s angry reaction to her unethical administration of truth serum.
“That is quite enough, Poppy!” A voice was shouting, which Hermione recognized as that of her Potions professor. He came into her view, a concerned look on his face. “I’ll get you the antidote.” He turned and went to the hospital’s supply room to fetch the potion. As soon as she had downed it, Hermione felt her mind return to her own control. She wanted to tell Professor Snape how happy she was to see him recovering so fast, but almost unbearable tiredness overcame her and she instantly gave in to the fitful sleep that insisted on claiming her.
Hermione was aware that she was dreaming, Someone was stabbing her with a knife, only she could not see or sense anyone attacking her. Her entire body felt as if set on fire, but there was no fire to be seen. Suddenly, Lucius Malfoy appeared. ”Don’t hold on to the babe, Miss Granger. No soul wishes to enter into a life that was conceived by brutal force. You deserve better, witch.” He sounded sad and regretful, his face no longer displaying the smugness and arrogance that had characterized it in his lifetime. She wanted to ponder over the drastic change in the man who had murdered her parents, but the immense pain in her abdomen wiped out any coherent thoughts.
I’m going to wake up now and I’ll feel fine... The young witch opened her eyes, only to realize that the pain was not a dream. Invisible knives were stabbing her abdomen and hot jolts of fire licked at her body. The pain made her want to scream, but only a pathetic whimper came out. A soothing voice instructed her to swallow a small amount of liquid poured carefully into her mouth. The pain subsided and everything went dark.
Occasionally, her parents visited her, sometimes together with Lucius, all of them urging her to hang on. Hang on to what? she thought wonderingly. As soon as the thought was completed, the answer was furnished to her. ”You need to hang on to life, Hermione, love. You have many years of happiness ahead of you, you can’t give up now,” her scholarly father told her sternly, like a teacher admonishing her for not completing some homework assignment.
“Let me go with you, please! It hurts so bad...” Hermione whispered to her mother, who was gently stroking her face. She appeared to be restored to her former radiant self with no trace left of Lucius Malfoy’s abuse.
“Come, let me show you something,” Mrs Granger said, taking her daughter’s hand. Hermione followed her mother’s lead and floated along with her until they reached some apparatus resembling a screen that was showing the young witch holding her hands out. Hermione remembered the scene, which had happened not so long ago. While she was busy healing Draco, first with her hands, then with the herb paste, Professor Snape was watching her intently, all his typical sneers and expressions of disdain wiped off his face. She had never noticed him observe her as the movie like scene was displaying.
The next scene appeared and Hermione saw herself asleep, leaning against the unicorn the night after she remembered the ordeal Lucius had put her through. The screen showed her tear-streaked face and her body tossing and turning in an uneasy sleep. Then the scene changed to follow Professor Snape as he approached and stopped abruptly when he spotted her. He stood a long while watching her, his face unreadable. A unicorn appeared from the depths of the Forbidden Forest, spoke some words to him at which he nodded and turned to head back towards the castle.
The last scene showed an obviously frantic Potions master running from Hogwarts Castle into Hogsmeade, heading straight towards the bookstore. When Hermione came into his view, he looked momentarily relieved, then absolutely horrified when she fainted mere seconds before McNair’s only partially deflected curse knocked him into complete darkness. The screen went blank and the apparatus disappeared.
Hermione looked around and saw her parents observe her with interest. “Do you understand now, love, why you have to return?” her father asked benignly.
“Mum, Dad... What does it all mean?” Hermione was not sure what there was to understand, except that there appeared to be some sort of bond between her stern Potions professor and herself. She remembered the time he had talked to her when she refused to visit Draco, how he had put sense into her and she was able to face the carbon copy of her assaulter again. She suddenly knew that it was not his mere words spoken to her but his entire demeanour, his holding her by her shoulders, his urgent assurance of her safety. She remembered her own feeling of immense relief, knowing instinctively all would be well when she saw him approach while she was being held by Lucius Malfoy.
Her parents were watching their daughter’s face as her mind was digesting what she had seen and what she had remembered. She was still not quite certain why they had wanted her to see these events of the recent past but it did not matter. She knew she would find out in time. “It’s time to return now, love,” her mother said gently, but nevertheless insisting. She led Hermione back to the hospital wing, where she saw her own prone form lying in bed for a moment before she slipped back into her battered body. Darkness engulfed her again.
Hermione desperately wanted to open her eyes, but was unable to gather the strength to do so. “You’ll be pleased to know that Miss Granger’s fever broke last night. Hopefully she’ll wake up sometime today,” she heard a deep voice say. “That’s the best news I’ve heard for a while, Severus,” another voice replied.
Thinking was not nearly as hard to do as anything physical, no matter how mundane. She recognized the voices as those of her Potions professor and the Headmaster. Okay... I’m alive then. I’ve had a fever, she concluded from what she had just heard, then listened to the conversation taking place somewhere near her.
“I really appreciate what you’ve done for her, Severus. Thankfully, the new healer is due to arrive in a couple of days, so you won’t have to stay here day and night,” came the headmaster’s voice, quickly followed by an incredulous sounding Professor Snape. ”After the fiasco with Poppy, you are going to trust some outside healer with her care? A healer who was provided by the Ministry no less? A ministry that was too incompetent to detect the dark magic at the Grangers’ home? Have you lost your marbles, old man?” His voice was thunderous now. “Now, Severus...” The headmaster was trying to interrupt the younger man, with no success. ”Do I need to remind you that Miss Granger is the only Muggle-born witch left at Hogwarts? Or that her name graces the top spot of the Death Eaters’ Wanted list? That alone should be enough reason to protect her with utmost care and without fail.”
Hermione heard steps approaching her bed. She finally managed to open her eyes and looked straight into Professor Snape’s that were still sparkling with anger. His face softened immediately. “You’ve woken up,” he stated in a quiet voice that seemed to carry various emotions, she thought. Relief, gladness, even happiness were replacing the anger that was there not even one minute ago.
“I’ve woken up,” Hermione confirmed, voice croaky from lack of use.
“Miss Granger, I can’t even begin to tell you how happy I am to see you rejoin the world of the living.” Dumbledore had stepped next to his Potions master and looked down at Hermione, his relief evident in his expression, his eyes dancing but for once lacking the usually present twinkle. Hermione attempted a smile but found it was too much effort. Soon she gave in to the urge to close her eyes and sleep claimed her once more. Only this time, it was a strengthening, healing sleep.
When Hermione woke up again, she found herself alone. She looked around and realized it was now easier for her to move, so she carefully pulled herself up into a sitting position. The door opened to reveal an angry Potions master and an obviously annoyed Headmaster. Both schooled their expressions into more neutral ones as they noticed her sitting up. Snape sat down on the side of her bed, rested his fingers under her chin and tipped her face up, looking at her intently. “Better?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied with a still rusty voice.
Snape looked at the Headmaster. “I’ll leave you to do the talking then,” he said sardonically, stood up and swept out of the hospital wing.
When Dumbledore had finally finished filling her in, Hermione felt exhausted at the thought of digesting the news. Madame Pomfrey had been subjected to the Imperius Curse for several months, forced to report every event to Lucius Malfoy. His death and her mention of his name as the one responsible for Hermione’s pregnancy had triggered the mediwitch’s realization and led to her breakdown. She was now at St. Mungo’s, her recovery considerably slowed down by insistent repeated questioning by Ministry Aurors.
Dumbledore admitted to Hermione that Severus Snape had voiced his suspicions that something was going on with Poppy Pomfrey several times, only to be ignored by the Headmaster. “And this is probably why Severus is insisting on hiding you, to give you a chance to recover without any potential dangers, until you are well enough to join classes again,” Dumbledore finished and sighed deeply. “I’m getting too old for this war, Miss Granger. You will have to discuss your preferred location of recovery with Professor Snape, I tried to reason with him that you’re better off here in the hospital wing, but he won’t listen to me.”
Hermione had a fairly good idea where her Potions professor planned to hide her and could not help smile at the thought. “I’ll talk to him, Professor,” she assured him, deliberately not making any promise.
**************************************
Professor Snape’s choice of hiding Hermione had clearly won over the Headmaster’s preference to let her recover in the hospital wing in the care of a stranger. The young witch was comfortably settled in the second bed that had been put up in the room Draco was hiding. Her recovery was making fast progress, much helped by Draco, whose never tiring encouragement boosted her confidence every time she was about to cry in frustration over not being able to walk a short distance without stumbling or unable to sit up for more than an hour. He was more than relieved to have his friend back and told her so one afternoon.
“You know, it was bad enough to only have Snape to talk to during the summer. But those two weeks when you were out, that was just horrible and lonely. Snape never turned up, spending all his time at your bedside after he recovered, so I only had Dobby to talk to whenever he brought food. And Dobby was so worried about you that he couldn’t talk about anything else. It was really depressing.”
Hermione looked at him dumbstruck. “I was out for two weeks?” she asked incredulously. “And... And Professor Snape didn’t come here even once?” She could hardly believe Draco’s words.
“He was worried sick about you, Hermione. He thought that you had overexerted yourself when you healed him, that that was the reason you got so ill,” Draco replied. “He told me about it the night before he brought you here from the hospital wing.”
A vague memory hit Hermione. She was watching Professor Snape in several situations, all of them involving her in one way or another. It was an almost creepy déja-vu feeling that she could not make sense of. She shook it off, not wanting to feel uncomfortable.
The weeks following Hermione’s arrival in the secret room were filled with studying, talking and most of all, music. Draco’s musical skills had improved tremendously and both enjoyed playing instruments together. Hermione’s mind was once again set to find a way to create some music resembling the song of the Phoenix, music that transmitted the feel of euphoria, music that inspired the feel of the pure energy of the universe in anyone who heard it.
As was inevitable for two friends living in close proximity with barely any outside stimulation, a vast variety of subjects, including uncomfortable ones, came up. Draco was desperate to know details of his father’s death and eventually Hermione was ready to talk. “His last words were ‘forgive me Draco’, and I know he meant it, Draco,” she told him seriously. “I hope you can forgive him.”
“I don’t know...” Draco said hesitantly. “He’s committed so many atrocities, and he was proud of everything he did. He forced his beliefs on me like some Muggle priest trying to convince a non-believer of his own religion...” He sighed deeply. “Maybe... One day...” The young witch knew the issue was not laid at rest, but decided to let it go for now. He would find a way to make peace with his father in his own time.
Professor Snape had made a habit of joining the two young adults in the evenings. First he had to check on his patient, to report her progress to the Headmaster. He also checked their Potions assignments he had started handing them, insisting that both students needed to prepare for their NEWTs regardless of whether they were in hiding or not. Hermione soon discovered that her professor had a vast knowledge of not only healing potions, but all aspects of healing. She reveled in the fact that he seemed to be the complete opposite of his classroom persona and never tired of answering her many questions where healing was concerned.
One evening, Professor Snape was supervising a detention and Draco and Hermione sat peacefully reading. Draco had discovered a love for Muggle literature and was avidly reading ’Wuthering Heights’, while Hermione was devouring a book on Cranio-Sacral Therapy that Snape had lent her. Suddenly Draco looked up. “Have you forgiven him?”
Hermione did not need to think. “Yes, I have forgiven him,” she replied firmly.
“How?” Draco asked incredulously. “He raped you!”
“He raped me and he marked me,” Hermione confirmed, opening the top buttons of her shirt to reveal the Mudblood tattoo Lucius had hexed on her. She had not heard Professor Snape’s silent entrance and only realized he witnessed her words and action when he drew in his breath sharply. She gaped at him in surprise and utter horror. NO, she screamed inwardly. Now he knows how filthy and disgusting I am... I never wanted him of all people to find out...
“I never knew...” Professor Snape did not finish the sentence, but stood there for a moment, then turned abruptly and left through the portrait.
Hermione buried her head in her arms, kneeling on her bed, to hide her tears from Draco. The last thing she wanted from him, or anyone else, was pity. Her entire body was shaking with silent sobs. Draco sat down on her bed and pulled her shoulders insistently, until she turned around to face him. “What do you want, Draco?” she asked. “I don’t need your pity. I know my body is repulsive. Just... Just leave me be!”
Draco’s reaction was entirely unexpected. He took her face between his hands forcing her to look at him. “You idiot,” he said with more affection in his voice than Hermione thought possible. “How can anyone ever find you repulsive, Hermione? Just because you have a hex that proves that you’ve been attacked by a Death Eater doesn’t make you any less attractive or less beautiful!”
Hermione only stared at him, shocked at his passionate outburst. Draco was not finished. “You are everything anyone could wish for in a mate, Hermione. You are beautiful, no matter how you perceive yourself, and no matter how many stupid tattoos Lucius has hexed on you. You are pure light, you are loving, you are fair, you are nonjudgmental. And what’s most beautiful is that you don’t preach it, you simply live it! If everyone was like you, we would never have to fear Voldemort, because there would be nothing to feed his power.”
“Well spoken words, Mr Malfoy. I could not have said it better myself,” a quiet voice came from the door. Hermione and Draco looked up to see their Potions professor turn towards Hermione. “There is a potion that will lift the black colour of the hex. It takes four weeks to brew, so will be ready in plenty of time for the Yule Ball,” he told her.
“Th... Thank you,” Hermione stammered, taken by surprise yet again by his unnoticed arrival as well as his words. He doesn’t hate me... He doesn’t think I’m repulsive... He’s brewing the potion for me... Professor Snape nodded imperceptibly and turned to Draco.
“It’s time you get some fresh air, Draco. The headmaster was kind enough to borrow Mr Potter’s invisibility cloak,” Snape drawled and turned back to Hermione. “While we have the cloak I suggest you two take turns in going for a walk in the evenings. And since Draco has not seen the outside of this room for longer than you, I shall take him out first.”
The two men left, Draco hidden under Harry’s invisibility cloak and Hermione returned to her book, reading until she felt tired enough to go to sleep.
Some time later, Hermione woke up just enough to realize the two men had returned and were talking quietly in the room with only one candle lit. She could tell they were discussing the war and let herself drift back to sleep when her ears perked up at the mention of her name.
“I have hope that Hermione might come up with a less traditional solution that will help defeat him.” That was Professor Snape speaking, again referring to her by her first name. The way he pronounced it made it sound special to her, as if it was a caress.
“You love her, don’t you,” she heard Draco say.
His reply took her breath away. “Yes, Draco. I love her. I don’t even know when she changed from the annoying Gryffindor know-it-all to this... to this pure, perfect, lovely being. I never thought I’d be able to feel such strong emotions for anyone, but yes. I love her.”
Hermione needed all her strength and wits about to not let the men notice that she had woken up. Her mind was reeling. He loves me, he loves me, he loves me. She knew the world was all right, no matter how many Dark Lords there were to be defeated. With the knowledge that he loved her, she would be able to face any challenge that was thrown her way. He loves me. With that thought, she allowed sleep to claim her once more, confident that tonight at last, her dreams would be pleasant.
She never saw him approach, but smiled in her sleep when he softly placed a kiss on her forehead.
There was the call again. More voices. “Are you absolutely certain, Poppy?” “Headmaster, do you doubt my abilities as a mediwitch? I may not come across this condition often, but I do recognize a pregnancy when I see one!” Words spoken indignantly. “Maybe Severus can shed some light on the situation when he wakes up. Although I doubt it, even though... They were both brought in together.” The Headmaster’s soothing voice again. The mediwitch’s next words catapulted Hermione into consciousness and made her want to jump out of bed. “If Severus wakes up, Headmaster. He’s been completely unresponsive to any treatment. I’ve tried everything I could think of, and it’s been nearly forty-eight hours.” Hermione heard several steps slowly fading away. A door snapped shut. She opened her eyes and recognized Hogwart’s hospital wing in the dim lights that were always left on. Looking to one side, she recognized the prone form of Professor Snape on a bed on the opposite wall. She felt, rather than heard the call for help again.
Hermione slowly made her way out of bed, her mind still feeling slightly fuzzy and her body as stiff as if hit with an arthriticus curse. She staggered to Professor Snape’s bed and even before she reached him her hands started to glow. Holding her palms barely above his body, almost touching his chest, she could feel the life force that had been drained out of him. McNair’s curse, Hermione thought and silently urged him to hold on, watching the turquoise energy emitting from her hands enter his body steadily. After a few minutes, she realized it was to no avail. He was not reacting to the healing energy and still getting weaker.
“Come on, you dolt! You can’t just rescue me and then die, it’s not fair!” Panic surged through her as she remembered Lucius Malfoy’s fate and she wondered if her healing power had suddenly turned into some killing force. “Please, Professor! If you hadn’t turned up when you did I would have died, and I would have been happy to. Don’t just die on me. Please,” she whispered desperately.
Looking at her hands, she noticed the colour flowing out of her hands change to a silvery white, with intermittently woven threads of what she could later describe only as ‘other-worldly pink’. It was not baby pink, nor was it Barbie pink, it was not even rose pink. She had never seen this shade of pink, which was displaying a soothing, almost palpably happy quality to its flow. Nevertheless, she concentrated on the healing energy streaming now faster from her hands into Professor Snape’s body. Finally, she could feel his life force increase in strength again, and soon the colours faded, until her hands went back to their normal skin colour. Having completed her task, she returned to her bed, exhausted from walking the short distance between her professor’s bed and her own.
Hermione had barely settled into her hospital bed, getting comfortable and ready to fall asleep, when the door opened to reveal a grim looking Madam Pomfrey. The moment she reached her bed, she started to speak. “Now, Miss Granger, that you’re awake, maybe you can tell me who the father is.”
“What?” Hermione looked blankly at the mediwitch.
“Oh, don’t pretend to be stupid, Miss Granger! You can’t tell me you are not aware of your pregnancy! We need to inform the father!” Madam Pomfrey said, clearly annoyed.
Scenes of the past weeks suddenly flickered in front of Hermione’s mind. Her feeling nauseous at the mere thought of anything sweet. Her playing around with food because she was not hungry. Her aching breasts, as if they had grown and the skin not quite adjusted to their new size. Her missing periods. “No! Not that as well,” she wailed in desperation.
“You should have thought about that possibility before the act,” Madam Pomfrey said, her voice carrying a nasty undertone. A movement on the other bed caught her attention and she left Hermione’s side, uttering, “You will tell me who the father is, Miss Granger. Have no doubt.”
Hermione noticed Professor Snape stir and later wake up only on the periphery of her awareness, too devastated to feel even relief that he was finally recovering. She spent the remainder of the night curled up staring unseeing at the wall.
Hermione barely looked up when Madame Pomfrey swept in, looking more cheerful than the previous night. “Right, Miss Granger. You will drink this tonic, and then we will have a talk,” the mediwitch instructed in her typical don’t-mess-with-me voice and grabbing her chin with thumb and forefinger she forced Hermione’s mouth to open and poured the potion down before she could react.
The young witch, still exhausted from recent events and sleep-deprived from trying to digest the devastating news of her pregnancy, coughed at the rough administration of the potion and realized only after she had swallowed most of the liquid that it was laced with veritaserum.
“Now, Miss Granger. Who did you sleep with?”
“No-one,” Hermione replied in a toneless voice.
“Don’t be ridiculous, girl! You are pregnant, there is no doubt about it,” Madame Pomfrey admonished her. “Who is the father?”
“Lucius Malfoy.”
Madame Pomfrey’s face turned white upon hearing the evildoer’s name. “Oh my Gods, what have I done?” Her words were spoken in barely a whisper as if all life had been drained out of her. “I need to see Albus... No.... No... It can’t be...” With that, she abruptly turned and broke into a fast walk towards the door, exiting her domain, never hearing her other patient’s angry reaction to her unethical administration of truth serum.
“That is quite enough, Poppy!” A voice was shouting, which Hermione recognized as that of her Potions professor. He came into her view, a concerned look on his face. “I’ll get you the antidote.” He turned and went to the hospital’s supply room to fetch the potion. As soon as she had downed it, Hermione felt her mind return to her own control. She wanted to tell Professor Snape how happy she was to see him recovering so fast, but almost unbearable tiredness overcame her and she instantly gave in to the fitful sleep that insisted on claiming her.
Hermione was aware that she was dreaming, Someone was stabbing her with a knife, only she could not see or sense anyone attacking her. Her entire body felt as if set on fire, but there was no fire to be seen. Suddenly, Lucius Malfoy appeared. ”Don’t hold on to the babe, Miss Granger. No soul wishes to enter into a life that was conceived by brutal force. You deserve better, witch.” He sounded sad and regretful, his face no longer displaying the smugness and arrogance that had characterized it in his lifetime. She wanted to ponder over the drastic change in the man who had murdered her parents, but the immense pain in her abdomen wiped out any coherent thoughts.
I’m going to wake up now and I’ll feel fine... The young witch opened her eyes, only to realize that the pain was not a dream. Invisible knives were stabbing her abdomen and hot jolts of fire licked at her body. The pain made her want to scream, but only a pathetic whimper came out. A soothing voice instructed her to swallow a small amount of liquid poured carefully into her mouth. The pain subsided and everything went dark.
Occasionally, her parents visited her, sometimes together with Lucius, all of them urging her to hang on. Hang on to what? she thought wonderingly. As soon as the thought was completed, the answer was furnished to her. ”You need to hang on to life, Hermione, love. You have many years of happiness ahead of you, you can’t give up now,” her scholarly father told her sternly, like a teacher admonishing her for not completing some homework assignment.
“Let me go with you, please! It hurts so bad...” Hermione whispered to her mother, who was gently stroking her face. She appeared to be restored to her former radiant self with no trace left of Lucius Malfoy’s abuse.
“Come, let me show you something,” Mrs Granger said, taking her daughter’s hand. Hermione followed her mother’s lead and floated along with her until they reached some apparatus resembling a screen that was showing the young witch holding her hands out. Hermione remembered the scene, which had happened not so long ago. While she was busy healing Draco, first with her hands, then with the herb paste, Professor Snape was watching her intently, all his typical sneers and expressions of disdain wiped off his face. She had never noticed him observe her as the movie like scene was displaying.
The next scene appeared and Hermione saw herself asleep, leaning against the unicorn the night after she remembered the ordeal Lucius had put her through. The screen showed her tear-streaked face and her body tossing and turning in an uneasy sleep. Then the scene changed to follow Professor Snape as he approached and stopped abruptly when he spotted her. He stood a long while watching her, his face unreadable. A unicorn appeared from the depths of the Forbidden Forest, spoke some words to him at which he nodded and turned to head back towards the castle.
The last scene showed an obviously frantic Potions master running from Hogwarts Castle into Hogsmeade, heading straight towards the bookstore. When Hermione came into his view, he looked momentarily relieved, then absolutely horrified when she fainted mere seconds before McNair’s only partially deflected curse knocked him into complete darkness. The screen went blank and the apparatus disappeared.
Hermione looked around and saw her parents observe her with interest. “Do you understand now, love, why you have to return?” her father asked benignly.
“Mum, Dad... What does it all mean?” Hermione was not sure what there was to understand, except that there appeared to be some sort of bond between her stern Potions professor and herself. She remembered the time he had talked to her when she refused to visit Draco, how he had put sense into her and she was able to face the carbon copy of her assaulter again. She suddenly knew that it was not his mere words spoken to her but his entire demeanour, his holding her by her shoulders, his urgent assurance of her safety. She remembered her own feeling of immense relief, knowing instinctively all would be well when she saw him approach while she was being held by Lucius Malfoy.
Her parents were watching their daughter’s face as her mind was digesting what she had seen and what she had remembered. She was still not quite certain why they had wanted her to see these events of the recent past but it did not matter. She knew she would find out in time. “It’s time to return now, love,” her mother said gently, but nevertheless insisting. She led Hermione back to the hospital wing, where she saw her own prone form lying in bed for a moment before she slipped back into her battered body. Darkness engulfed her again.
Hermione desperately wanted to open her eyes, but was unable to gather the strength to do so. “You’ll be pleased to know that Miss Granger’s fever broke last night. Hopefully she’ll wake up sometime today,” she heard a deep voice say. “That’s the best news I’ve heard for a while, Severus,” another voice replied.
Thinking was not nearly as hard to do as anything physical, no matter how mundane. She recognized the voices as those of her Potions professor and the Headmaster. Okay... I’m alive then. I’ve had a fever, she concluded from what she had just heard, then listened to the conversation taking place somewhere near her.
“I really appreciate what you’ve done for her, Severus. Thankfully, the new healer is due to arrive in a couple of days, so you won’t have to stay here day and night,” came the headmaster’s voice, quickly followed by an incredulous sounding Professor Snape. ”After the fiasco with Poppy, you are going to trust some outside healer with her care? A healer who was provided by the Ministry no less? A ministry that was too incompetent to detect the dark magic at the Grangers’ home? Have you lost your marbles, old man?” His voice was thunderous now. “Now, Severus...” The headmaster was trying to interrupt the younger man, with no success. ”Do I need to remind you that Miss Granger is the only Muggle-born witch left at Hogwarts? Or that her name graces the top spot of the Death Eaters’ Wanted list? That alone should be enough reason to protect her with utmost care and without fail.”
Hermione heard steps approaching her bed. She finally managed to open her eyes and looked straight into Professor Snape’s that were still sparkling with anger. His face softened immediately. “You’ve woken up,” he stated in a quiet voice that seemed to carry various emotions, she thought. Relief, gladness, even happiness were replacing the anger that was there not even one minute ago.
“I’ve woken up,” Hermione confirmed, voice croaky from lack of use.
“Miss Granger, I can’t even begin to tell you how happy I am to see you rejoin the world of the living.” Dumbledore had stepped next to his Potions master and looked down at Hermione, his relief evident in his expression, his eyes dancing but for once lacking the usually present twinkle. Hermione attempted a smile but found it was too much effort. Soon she gave in to the urge to close her eyes and sleep claimed her once more. Only this time, it was a strengthening, healing sleep.
When Hermione woke up again, she found herself alone. She looked around and realized it was now easier for her to move, so she carefully pulled herself up into a sitting position. The door opened to reveal an angry Potions master and an obviously annoyed Headmaster. Both schooled their expressions into more neutral ones as they noticed her sitting up. Snape sat down on the side of her bed, rested his fingers under her chin and tipped her face up, looking at her intently. “Better?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied with a still rusty voice.
Snape looked at the Headmaster. “I’ll leave you to do the talking then,” he said sardonically, stood up and swept out of the hospital wing.
When Dumbledore had finally finished filling her in, Hermione felt exhausted at the thought of digesting the news. Madame Pomfrey had been subjected to the Imperius Curse for several months, forced to report every event to Lucius Malfoy. His death and her mention of his name as the one responsible for Hermione’s pregnancy had triggered the mediwitch’s realization and led to her breakdown. She was now at St. Mungo’s, her recovery considerably slowed down by insistent repeated questioning by Ministry Aurors.
Dumbledore admitted to Hermione that Severus Snape had voiced his suspicions that something was going on with Poppy Pomfrey several times, only to be ignored by the Headmaster. “And this is probably why Severus is insisting on hiding you, to give you a chance to recover without any potential dangers, until you are well enough to join classes again,” Dumbledore finished and sighed deeply. “I’m getting too old for this war, Miss Granger. You will have to discuss your preferred location of recovery with Professor Snape, I tried to reason with him that you’re better off here in the hospital wing, but he won’t listen to me.”
Hermione had a fairly good idea where her Potions professor planned to hide her and could not help smile at the thought. “I’ll talk to him, Professor,” she assured him, deliberately not making any promise.
Professor Snape’s choice of hiding Hermione had clearly won over the Headmaster’s preference to let her recover in the hospital wing in the care of a stranger. The young witch was comfortably settled in the second bed that had been put up in the room Draco was hiding. Her recovery was making fast progress, much helped by Draco, whose never tiring encouragement boosted her confidence every time she was about to cry in frustration over not being able to walk a short distance without stumbling or unable to sit up for more than an hour. He was more than relieved to have his friend back and told her so one afternoon.
“You know, it was bad enough to only have Snape to talk to during the summer. But those two weeks when you were out, that was just horrible and lonely. Snape never turned up, spending all his time at your bedside after he recovered, so I only had Dobby to talk to whenever he brought food. And Dobby was so worried about you that he couldn’t talk about anything else. It was really depressing.”
Hermione looked at him dumbstruck. “I was out for two weeks?” she asked incredulously. “And... And Professor Snape didn’t come here even once?” She could hardly believe Draco’s words.
“He was worried sick about you, Hermione. He thought that you had overexerted yourself when you healed him, that that was the reason you got so ill,” Draco replied. “He told me about it the night before he brought you here from the hospital wing.”
A vague memory hit Hermione. She was watching Professor Snape in several situations, all of them involving her in one way or another. It was an almost creepy déja-vu feeling that she could not make sense of. She shook it off, not wanting to feel uncomfortable.
The weeks following Hermione’s arrival in the secret room were filled with studying, talking and most of all, music. Draco’s musical skills had improved tremendously and both enjoyed playing instruments together. Hermione’s mind was once again set to find a way to create some music resembling the song of the Phoenix, music that transmitted the feel of euphoria, music that inspired the feel of the pure energy of the universe in anyone who heard it.
As was inevitable for two friends living in close proximity with barely any outside stimulation, a vast variety of subjects, including uncomfortable ones, came up. Draco was desperate to know details of his father’s death and eventually Hermione was ready to talk. “His last words were ‘forgive me Draco’, and I know he meant it, Draco,” she told him seriously. “I hope you can forgive him.”
“I don’t know...” Draco said hesitantly. “He’s committed so many atrocities, and he was proud of everything he did. He forced his beliefs on me like some Muggle priest trying to convince a non-believer of his own religion...” He sighed deeply. “Maybe... One day...” The young witch knew the issue was not laid at rest, but decided to let it go for now. He would find a way to make peace with his father in his own time.
Professor Snape had made a habit of joining the two young adults in the evenings. First he had to check on his patient, to report her progress to the Headmaster. He also checked their Potions assignments he had started handing them, insisting that both students needed to prepare for their NEWTs regardless of whether they were in hiding or not. Hermione soon discovered that her professor had a vast knowledge of not only healing potions, but all aspects of healing. She reveled in the fact that he seemed to be the complete opposite of his classroom persona and never tired of answering her many questions where healing was concerned.
One evening, Professor Snape was supervising a detention and Draco and Hermione sat peacefully reading. Draco had discovered a love for Muggle literature and was avidly reading ’Wuthering Heights’, while Hermione was devouring a book on Cranio-Sacral Therapy that Snape had lent her. Suddenly Draco looked up. “Have you forgiven him?”
Hermione did not need to think. “Yes, I have forgiven him,” she replied firmly.
“How?” Draco asked incredulously. “He raped you!”
“He raped me and he marked me,” Hermione confirmed, opening the top buttons of her shirt to reveal the Mudblood tattoo Lucius had hexed on her. She had not heard Professor Snape’s silent entrance and only realized he witnessed her words and action when he drew in his breath sharply. She gaped at him in surprise and utter horror. NO, she screamed inwardly. Now he knows how filthy and disgusting I am... I never wanted him of all people to find out...
“I never knew...” Professor Snape did not finish the sentence, but stood there for a moment, then turned abruptly and left through the portrait.
Hermione buried her head in her arms, kneeling on her bed, to hide her tears from Draco. The last thing she wanted from him, or anyone else, was pity. Her entire body was shaking with silent sobs. Draco sat down on her bed and pulled her shoulders insistently, until she turned around to face him. “What do you want, Draco?” she asked. “I don’t need your pity. I know my body is repulsive. Just... Just leave me be!”
Draco’s reaction was entirely unexpected. He took her face between his hands forcing her to look at him. “You idiot,” he said with more affection in his voice than Hermione thought possible. “How can anyone ever find you repulsive, Hermione? Just because you have a hex that proves that you’ve been attacked by a Death Eater doesn’t make you any less attractive or less beautiful!”
Hermione only stared at him, shocked at his passionate outburst. Draco was not finished. “You are everything anyone could wish for in a mate, Hermione. You are beautiful, no matter how you perceive yourself, and no matter how many stupid tattoos Lucius has hexed on you. You are pure light, you are loving, you are fair, you are nonjudgmental. And what’s most beautiful is that you don’t preach it, you simply live it! If everyone was like you, we would never have to fear Voldemort, because there would be nothing to feed his power.”
“Well spoken words, Mr Malfoy. I could not have said it better myself,” a quiet voice came from the door. Hermione and Draco looked up to see their Potions professor turn towards Hermione. “There is a potion that will lift the black colour of the hex. It takes four weeks to brew, so will be ready in plenty of time for the Yule Ball,” he told her.
“Th... Thank you,” Hermione stammered, taken by surprise yet again by his unnoticed arrival as well as his words. He doesn’t hate me... He doesn’t think I’m repulsive... He’s brewing the potion for me... Professor Snape nodded imperceptibly and turned to Draco.
“It’s time you get some fresh air, Draco. The headmaster was kind enough to borrow Mr Potter’s invisibility cloak,” Snape drawled and turned back to Hermione. “While we have the cloak I suggest you two take turns in going for a walk in the evenings. And since Draco has not seen the outside of this room for longer than you, I shall take him out first.”
The two men left, Draco hidden under Harry’s invisibility cloak and Hermione returned to her book, reading until she felt tired enough to go to sleep.
Some time later, Hermione woke up just enough to realize the two men had returned and were talking quietly in the room with only one candle lit. She could tell they were discussing the war and let herself drift back to sleep when her ears perked up at the mention of her name.
“I have hope that Hermione might come up with a less traditional solution that will help defeat him.” That was Professor Snape speaking, again referring to her by her first name. The way he pronounced it made it sound special to her, as if it was a caress.
“You love her, don’t you,” she heard Draco say.
His reply took her breath away. “Yes, Draco. I love her. I don’t even know when she changed from the annoying Gryffindor know-it-all to this... to this pure, perfect, lovely being. I never thought I’d be able to feel such strong emotions for anyone, but yes. I love her.”
Hermione needed all her strength and wits about to not let the men notice that she had woken up. Her mind was reeling. He loves me, he loves me, he loves me. She knew the world was all right, no matter how many Dark Lords there were to be defeated. With the knowledge that he loved her, she would be able to face any challenge that was thrown her way. He loves me. With that thought, she allowed sleep to claim her once more, confident that tonight at last, her dreams would be pleasant.
She never saw him approach, but smiled in her sleep when he softly placed a kiss on her forehead.
