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Teaching Miss Granger	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 116943 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 14
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
- 35
- 36
- 37
36 - On the Mend
They fell back into a comfortable pattern: weekdays at Grimmauld Place, weekends at his house. Hermione couldn’t wait to go to work each day, but as soon as she got home, she was all over Severus and couldn’t imagine how she’d gotten through the day without him. He was in the same boat, spending his days absorbed in his lab, but at 4:45 he suddenly needed to see her. Every day he was waiting for her to get home from work, making sure to arrive at Grimmauld Place before her.
Harry and Ron usually had to break up the couple’s snogging when they got home from training. They tried to ignore it whenever possible, but if Snape and Hermione were blocking the hallway or refrigerator, one of them had to say something. After a couple of weeks, the boys got used to seeing it and barely noticed.
Hermione’s work was going very well. She met with the man from The Daily Prophet who did the Point/Counterpoint opinion column, and he agreed to do a writeup on whatever case Creature Rights Watch was currently involved in. It got the word out to the general public, and so far, she was getting the response she’d hoped for. Most people didn’t know what kind of injustice was happening simply because they never heard about it. Public awareness was her main goal.
Severus eventually heard back from Magnus, who told him that he’d gotten the same results with the Wolfsbane. They continued to owl back and forth, discussing the implications. A paper for the Potions Masters Association was begun, and Severus started on a report for the Ministry.
At the beginning of August, Hermione prepared herself for university in the fall. She had all her books (and had already gone through a good deal of them). Whenever she mentioned her departure to Mr. Dune, he got a sad look on his face and told her she had a job with them whenever she wanted it. She couldn’t imagine not going to university, and she told him so.
On a warm afternoon, the second Thursday of the month, she was working with an artist to make posters encouraging people to volunteer at CRW when she heard Harry’s voice in the distance.
“Is Hermione Granger here?”
She stood up and looked over everyone’s heads to see where he was. Harry’s black hair was immediately identifiable at the front of the office by Mandy’s desk.
“Harry!” she called, waving to get his attention. “I’m here.”
Ron was with him, and Harry gave the redhead an inscrutable look before heading back to her. Hermione met them occasionally for lunch, but it was too early, and they didn’t seem to have come for a visit.
“You’re a bit early,” she told them when they got to her table. “My watch says we’ve still got another hour.”
Harry gave Ron another uncomfortable look then cleared his throat. “Hermione . . . there was an attack in London. One of the last runners,” he said, referring to the Voldemort supporters who had fled after the war. “At the apothecary in Knockturn Alley.”
Hermione’s eyes darted between Harry and Ron. They hadn’t looked that serious since the war. Ron kept glancing away whenever she met his eyes, and Harry looked as though he wanted to be anyplace else.
“Who’s hurt?” she asked, terrified that one of their friends had been caught in the crossfire. “Oh God, is someone dead?”
“Hermione . . . Snape was taken to St. Mungo’s. We don’t know how he is. As soon as we heard, we came to tell you.”
She was on her feet immediately. The earth seemed to have tipped wildly on its axis; the room listed severely to the right. She couldn’t breathe. But she could run. Pounding on Dune’s office door, she opened it as soon as he said, “Come in.”
“Hermione!” he said happily. Then he saw Harry and Ron rushing up behind her and knew bad news when he saw it barreling through his door. “What’s wrong?”
Tears stung her eyes, but she forced them back. “I need to leave. Could I use your Floo?”
“What the matter? I mean, yes, you can use the Floo. Where are you going?”
“St. Mungo’s. Severus is . . . I don’t know.”
She was the steadiest and most focused person he knew; he’d never seen her so much as flinch. Even when she’d almost fainted, she’d been tough as dragon hide, denying she needed a break and only agreeing to see the mediwitch because she happened to be there. It was heartbreaking to see her looking so frantic.
“Owl me as soon as you hear. Don’t worry about us. I’ll look after your desk.”
“Thank you,” she muttered and pinched the Floo powder from the mantle. “St. Mungo’s.”
She stumbled into the lobby of the hospital and dashed over to the front desk. “Please. Someone was brought in from Knockturn Alley. I need to know where he is.”
The witch behind the desk looked unimpressed. “Are you a relation?”
Hermione heard Harry jog up behind her as she answered, “No, I’m not a relation. I’m his girlfriend.”
“We can only release information about patients to immediate relatives.”
“He doesn’t have any immediate relatives,” she shot back. “I’m it!”
“I’m sorry, miss. But hospital guidelines state we can’t reveal patient information to—"
“I heard you the first time!”
Harry heard Ron join their group and turned, giving him a nod in Hermione’s direction. She’s losing it.
Ron came over and pulled Hermione away from the desk. Harry gave the witch an apologetic look and muttered, “Sorry. Um . . . can you just tell us if he’s okay?”
The witch recognized him and seemed to waver. “I honestly don’t know. I’m just a receptionist. They don’t tell me anything.”
Hermione buried her face in Ron shirt as the tears threatened to break free. Ron hugged her and gave the receptionist a disgusted head shake.
Harry ran his hand through his hair. “Um . . . could you check with someone? It’s really important.”
“No one would tell me,” she said.
Hermione spun around, her eyes fierce. “Janice. I need to see the mediwitch Janice.”
“You want to be admitted?”
“She said if I was sick that I should come in and ask for her. I’m sick. Please let me see Janice.”
The receptionist shrugged. “What should I say is the problem?” she asked, getting out a form.
“Lightheadedness and nausea.”
The witch filled out a short form and slipped it into a metal box on the wall. “Go through those doors and to the right. Wait in one of the chairs. Janice will be there as soon as she can.”
Harry smiled at the witch. “Thanks.”
“Act sick or someone might get suspicious.”
Hermione was already through the double doors. It won’t be an act.
Harry and Ron sat on either side of her in the silent hallway, Harry’s foot jangling on his knee as he tapped his wand against his shoe.
“Do you two have to go back to the academy?” Hermione asked.
“They know where we are. We won’t go back till we . . . till you want us to.” Harry answered.
Hermione tightened her arms around her belly. She felt hollow, as if she’d left her stomach back at the office. Her heart was beating too hard, and it was making her sick.
“They wouldn’t have brought him here if he was dead, would they?” she whispered.
Harry and Ron looked at each other over her head. Neither wanted to tell her that, yes, he still would have been brought there. All public attacks were brought there no matter the extent of the injuries. Harry held her hand. “Don’t start thinking like that. You’ll just worry yourself.”
“What else do you know? Is anyone else hurt? Did they catch the person who did it?”
Ron nodded. “They did actually. There was an Auror right around the corner, and he got there right after it happened. He stunned the guy in the street as he ran.”
“So Severus got help right away?”
Ron shrugged. “I guess so.”
There was a click, and a door at the end of the hall opened. Hermione jumped out of her seat, dashing toward the dark-haired witch. “Janice, please, I need your help.”
Janice took in the three of them sitting together looking grim and the manic gleam in Hermione’s eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you sick again?”
“Yes and no. Severus is here. An attack in Kockturn Alley. They won’t tell me anything. I need to know if he’s all right.”
Janice nodded. “I heard about that. A couple people were brought in I think. Come on. They usually take emergency cases to the East wing. If anyone asks, you’re visiting your Grandma.”
Hermione nodded, and the three of them set off behind Janice, following her through the maze of corridors. They encountered more and more hospital staff, but no one questioned their presence (even though they recognized the trio and did a few double takes).
Janice started peeking in doors then leading them on to the next one when she didn’t see the Potions master. In the last door on the right, she found a battered Snape. Breathing a sigh of relief that they wouldn’t have to go to the morgue, she waved Hermione over. “Found him.”
Hermione held her breath as she stepped into the dim room. Snape was on a small bed, a thin blanket pulled to his waist. There was a large bandage wrapped around his chest and his arm was in a sling. One whole side of his face was swollen and there was a large cut across his cheek that had been healed closed. It looked as though someone had attacked him with his red grading quill.
She crept to the bed; the closer she got, the more damage she saw. Contusions on his arms and more healed cuts. His hair was singed in several places. Tears trickled down her cheeks. She was horrified by his appearance but relieved that he was alive. Touching his hand lightly, she whispered, “Severus?”
“They gave him something to make him sleep,” Janice said, reading his chart. She gave Hermione a small smile. “He must be okay. There’s a note here that he was belligerent with the mediwitches.”
Hermione’s shoulders dropped as some of the tension faded. “Is that why they put him to sleep?”
“It looks like it. ‘Patient opposes recommendation for observation,’” she read out loud, trying not to laugh. I’ll bet that’s putting it mildly. “He’ll be out for a few more hours.”
“May I stay with him?”
Janice looked at the two boys standing just inside the door. “All three of you wait here. I’ll go find Gilda. She’ll find a way for you to stay. She won’t be able to say no to all three of you . . . especially not ‘the chosen one,'” she said, grinning at Harry.
Harry blushed but thanked her as she walked out the door. They waited for her return, hoping they wouldn’t be caught before Janice and Gilda got there. Hermione sat on the edge of the bed and held Snape’s hand. The last time she’d seen him in the hospital after the war, he’d at least been awake. Seeing him in that state was like a flashback to the final battle. All the old fears started to settle in her chest like lead.
They all turned when the door opened then sighed as Janice appeared with a middle-aged witch in tow.
“Gilda, this is Harry, Ron, and Hermione.”
Gilda looked shocked but nodded at each of them. “I can see that. What are they doing in here?”
“Well . . . they’re here,” she said, indicating the boys, “to help their friend find Snape. The Prophet gets a little right every now and then.”
“You mean she’s really seeing him?”
Janice nodded. “Just look at her.”
Gilda took in Hermione’s tear-stained face and the way she was holding Snape’s limp hand. “I see,” she muttered.
“Please,” Hermione begged her. “I just want to stay with him. I won’t get in anyone’s way; I’ll be quiet as a cat.”
Gilda looked at all four of them and the unconscious Snape then sighed and nodded. “I’ll get her a pass.”
Harry smiled. “Brilliant. Snape’s really okay?”
Gilda was watching Hermione brush the hair out of Snape’s face with a look of fascination, as though she were watching a tap-dancing troll. “Yes. I remember him from after the war. It’s hard to forget a patient who threatens you with Unforgivable Curses for suggesting a sponge bath.”
Hermione started crying and laughing at the same time.
“Maybe we should get her something,” Janice muttered.
Harry and Ron smiled; Harry shook his head. “She’s okay now that she’s found him. Hermione? Do you want me and Ron to stick around? We can if you want.”
“I’m okay,” she assured him. “Go back to the academy. I’ll owl you or something as soon as I can. Will you tell Mr. Dune what’s happened? Tell him I won’t be back today?”
Harry and Ron both went over and hugged her. “Yeah, we’ll tell him,” Harry said.
Ron kissed her poofy head goodbye. “Come home soon. We’ll bring food later if you don’t make dinner.”
“Thanks you two.”

_____________________________________
A couple hours later, they came and moved Snape to another room. Hermione didn’t think he’d appreciate being floated down the hall in a state of unconsciousness while wearing just a hospital robe and blanket, but she’d promised to stay out of the way. As soon as the orderlies and mediwitch left, she’d moved from her chair to his bed. There was only one other occupant in the ward, an old man who seemed to be asleep; and Hermione didn’t much care whether he saw her or not.
The mediwitch had changed Snape’s bandage when she came, and Hermione had been horrified to see the words blood traitor carved into his chest. The cuts had been sealed, but it would take a lot of time for them to fade. They were still angry and red, the skin inflamed and puffy. The mediwitch, Clovis, had told her not to worry, they could fix him up good as new. Hermione asked what was wrong with his arm, and the witch had told her that it had been dislocated (but was on the mend). His legs looked beaten, and both his knees were bruised. Clovis had put salve on all his contusions and cuts then covered him up and left, saying she’d be back later to check on him.
Hermione sat on the bed and combed his hair straight with her fingers then kissed his nose. Clovis had said it’d been broken, but it didn’t look different to her. Maybe that’s just because the rest looks so bad. She ran her hand over the undamaged side of his face and leaned in, kissing his lips as gently as possible. “Love you.”
She loosened the sash on his robe so he could breathe then pulled the blankets up to his chest to keep him warm. Moving her chair up to the edge of the bed, Hermione sat very stiffly with her hand in his. “Please wake up soon.”

- - - - - - - - - -
Severus fought to open his eyes. One seemed unwilling to move at all. But the other one blinked open, and he saw the unmistakable ceiling of St. Mungo’s. Blast! Am I still here? Turning his head, he found Hermione folded over the side of the bed with her head resting next to his hand, her fingers petting his.
“I want to go home,” he rasped.
Hermione picked up her head and squeezed his hand. “You’re awake.”
He looked down at himself. “How bad is it?”
“You’ll heal.”
“Why can’t I move my arm?”
“I think they paralyzed it so you wouldn’t hurt yourself. Do you want me to go get the mediwitch?”
“No.”
“What happened, Severus?”
“All I remember is going to the apothecary for ingredients, and some lunatic started throwing curses. He was just after me. Did the other customers get brought in too?”
“I’ve heard most everyone has already been released. The shopkeeper is still here I think. Did you know the man who did this?”
“He wasn’t a Death Eater if that’s what you’re asking. He did look vaguely familiar though.”
“He’s been captured.”
“Good.” He was more worried for her safety than his own. What if she’d been out with him?
Hermione kissed his fingers. “No more scaring me. I thought you were dead,” she whispered and started to cry again.
Severus lifted his hand to her head, stroking her hair. “Not this time.” If he hadn’t been completely blindsided, that runner would be dead. There had been no warning. He just walked in and started firing curses, exploding potion bottles in Snape’s face with the misfires.
Severus had ducked and rolled, firing back from a more protected vantage point. Marcus, the shop owner, had been hit by a ricocheting curse from the runner and had dropped to the floor like a ton of galleons. The other customers had dodged out of sight as soon as the first sparks flew. Severus sustained most of his wounds when he tried to avoid the flying curses. The first one that hit had been some kind of Confundus, and he’d stumbled around getting hit by a couple more well-timed spells before he’d fired back and started blocking. He knew a Sloth Spell when he felt it; it was like moving underwater through molasses. His reaction time had been compromised. Once he was stunned and on the floor, he saw the maniac stand over him and cast a Cruciatus. He’d blacked out.
Lying there in the hospital, his whole body ached. He felt like a carved Christmas turkey. “When can I go home?”
Hermione took his hand again. “I don’t know. You’re pretty beat up, Severus.”
“What did he do to me?” he asked, pushing down the blanket and looking at his chest.
“Cut you. I guess he wanted you to know you’re a blood traitor.”
Severus snorted softly. “Idiot. I’d have to be a pureblood to be a blood traitor.”
“I guess he didn’t get the memo.”
Severus ran his thumb over hers. “How did you get here?”
“Harry and Ron heard about the attack and came and got me. The hospital wouldn’t let me see you or even tell me how you were, so I asked for Janice, and she brought me to you.”
“How long have I been asleep?”
“A few hours. Since I got here.”
“I’m ready to go. Help me up.”
Hermione gave him a confused look. “No, you need more healing. And if I have to help you up, you’re definitely not ready to go.”
“I hate this place. It smells like death.”
Hermione stood and leaned over him, kissing his good cheek. “I’ll go get the mediwitch. Maybe you don’t have to stay now that you’re awake.”
Snape watched her go to the door; he had to fight the instinct to call her back. She was only gone for about fifteen seconds when she came back in with an older black woman with a twisty, short afro.
“So you’re awake,” the witch commented. “How do you feel?”
“Like dragon dung.”
She smirked. “This little witch says you want to go home.”
“Now.”
“You don’t have a concussion or any other head injury. We can let you go as long as you won't be alone, but you have to rest and keep replacing the bandages and putting on the salve.”
“I’d like to, but I can’t move my arm,” he snapped.
Clovis looked at Hermione. “You sure you want to take him home?”
Hermione tried not to laugh. “Yes. He’ll be a better patient for me than you. He hates the hospital.”
Clovis raised one eyebrow. “I can give you some more Twilight Sleep to take with you.”
“No,” Snape rumbled.
Hermione bit back a snort. “It’s okay. He’s a Potions master. He has all kinds of things I can slip him.”
The mediwitch smiled at Snape's disapproving growl. “I’ll get you some supplies to take home,” Clovis said as she went out the door. “I’ll bring back your clothes too.”
“And my wand,” he called after her.
“Calm down, Severus.” Hermione went to his bed and sat next to him. “We’ll leave soon, all right?” She stroked his hair. “Do you promise to let me take care of you?”
“As long as we leave,” he grumbled.
“As soon as possible,” she promised. “Do you want to go to Grimmauld Place or your house?”
“I don’t care. My house is easier though.”
“You have healing potions and everything?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Okay.” Hermione bent down and kissed him softly. Snape’s good hand went into her hair and held her close for a few seconds.
“I’m a terrible patient,” he warned her. “I give you two days before you get sick of me and start drugging my food.”
Hermione smiled at him. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?”
He hummed doubtfully.
“We can play naughty nurse and wounded patient.”
The corner of his mouth twitched once.
Clovis came in and found them kissing. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “What did I just say about letting him rest? Quit that.”
Hermione blushed and pulled away. Clovis handed her Snape’s clothes, and Hermione passed his wand to him.
Clovis set the bandages and balms on the little table next to the bed and went around to Snape’s frozen arm. “When I take off the numbing charm, it’s going to hurt. Are you ready?”
Snape nodded. His arm felt as if it were being heated underwater for about a minute then the ache in his shoulder screamed to life; he clamped his teeth to keep quiet.
Hermione stared at his clothes in horror. There was blood all over his shirt, and it was torn and singed. She did her best to repair it then set his clothes on the vacant bed behind her.
“I’ll show you how to dress his wounds,” Clovis told Hermione. “Morning, afternoon, and night put on healing salve and change the bandage. In a couple of days you won’t need that anymore and you can just use the salve. Keep it all dry. No baths.”
“What about showers?”
“Not for a few days. When it looks like it’s knitted back together and the scabs are gone, then it’s okay.”
“What if I just wipe him off with a wet flannel?”
“That’s fine on the small stuff as long as you dry it well, but just use antiseptic on his chest till it looks less raw.”
“Okay.”
“Use balm on his shoulder for a few days. Don’t let him move it. Keep it in the sling. If you don’t let it heal properly it’ll start popping out all the time,” she warned Severus then turned back to Hermione. “Make him rest as much as possible. He’ll heal faster.”
Hermione nodded. “Yes, I understand.”
“All right, I’ll help you get him dressed. Come on, Mr. Snape. I know you want to get out of here. Hold onto my arm with your good hand.”
“I can do it myself,” he muttered and leaned on his side, slowly pushing himself up to sit. The mediwitch gave him a small eye roll and shook her head but didn’t say anything. Hermione got his socks and knelt down to pull them on his feet. He felt ridiculous letting her do it, but his body ached as if it had been dragged behind a horse. The mediwitch unslung his arm and eased his shirtsleeve over that side first. She moved around behind him and got it over his other arm while Hermione pulled his boxers and trousers up to his knees.
Hermione had left the blanket around his hips. She didn’t know if she was preserving his modesty or keeping her claim on his cock. Mediwitches obviously saw people naked all the time, but Hermione didn’t want anyone eyeing the goods. Why am I being so possessive? I’m being insane. He’s in bloody hospital, and I’m worried about other witches checking out his bits and pieces. Stop being mental, Hermione! She put on his shoes so when he stood up they’d only have to get his trousers zipped “Okay. You ready? I need you to stand up.”
Severus nodded and stood. His movements were stiff and halting, but he managed. He saw the way her eyes roamed over his cock as she pulled up his trousers. It wasn’t really a sexual look, more of a habit; but when she looked up at him after she zipped his fly, he saw a flash of heat in her eyes before she started to button his shirt. He was half amused by her desire and more than a little relieved. He’d been worried that her feelings for him would be lessened by both his appearance and failure to overcome his attacker. Even though there was no way he could have protected himself from a sneak attack, it bothered him that someone had gotten one over on him. I survive year after year with madmen and a war only to be felled by a simpleton in a potions shop. Disgusting.
Hermione could see how uncomfortable he was having her take care of him, and she knew she’d have to be cautious when they got home. If he felt she was being overly forceful with her care, he’d rebel. She didn’t want him to feel like an invalid.
“And here I thought you only knew how to undress me, pet.” Snape whispered down at her.
Hermione glanced back at Clovis, but the mediwitch was busy straightening the bed. “I’m taking them right back off when we get home.”
“Not tonight, love. I have a headache.”
Hermione smiled and brought his hand to her lips. “Be good.” She kissed his fingers. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Would you two behave yourselves?” Clovis muttered. “You’re going to end up right back in this bed if you don’t get some rest.”
Hermione blushed. Clovis had impeccable hearing.

- - - - - - - - - -
They Flooed back to Spinner’s End; Snape looked as though he’d sprinted a mile by the time she got him into his bed. She left him in his boxers but took the rest of his clothes to see if she could get out the blood.
“Just chuck them out,” he muttered. “I don’t want to wear them again.”
Hermione nodded, setting them aside. “I need to go to Grimmauld Place and get some clothes and leave Harry and Ron a message. I’ll bring you something to eat when I come back. Please stay in bed. I’ll be worried enough not being here. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened while I was gone.”
There would have to be a fire to get me out of this bed. All he wanted to do was sleep. “Since you asked nicely.”
Hermione smiled and kissed him softly. There was a bruise forming next to his mouth, and she didn’t want to hurt him. “I’ll be back in two shakes.”
“You'd better have on a nurse’s uniform when you get back.”
Hermione laughed and kissed his good shoulder. “I don’t have one. How about if I just get naked later?”
“Sounds nice,” he said, closing his eyes.
Hermione pulled the blanket up over him and kissed him once more. “Love you.”

- - - - - - - - - -
She Flooed to Grimmauld Place. Harry and Ron weren’t home yet, so she wrote them a letter.
Harry and Ron,
We’re back at Snape’s house. They said he was well enough to leave St. Mungo’s (but I think maybe they just wanted to get rid of him). He can’t really move about much, so I’m taking care of him until he’s better. All of his healing salves and potions are at his house, so we thought it’d be easier to stay there. I’m at home picking up some clothes and food before I go back. I’ll see you both soon. You know where to find me if you need anything.
Thank you both for staying with me at the hospital. I love you both. Please stay safe.
—Hermione
She realized she shouldn’t just leave the note. They might go to St. Mungo's after training to look for her. Deciding to owl it, she quickly wrote another note to Mr. Dune, updating him on what had happened. Hedwig was up in the attic sleeping, but when Hermione appeared, the snowy bird blinked out at her from the rafters.
“Hello, Hedwig,” she said, holding out an owl treat for her. “Can you take two letters for me?”
The bird hooed softly and landed next to her.
“This one’s for Harry, and this one’s for my boss Mr. Dune. If Mr. Dune has a reply, I’ll be at Spinner’s End.”
“Hoo.”
Hermione gave Hedwig both letters and watched as she flew out the window. Hungry from not eating yet, she went back down to the kitchen and made a very late lunch for her and Snape. After packing it in a grocery sack she found, she got some clean clothes then went back to Cokeworth.

- - - - - - - - - -
Severus couldn’t remember the last time they’d made it a whole day in each other’s presence without sex. It was strange having her touch him all over and then bandage him back up without involving his cock. Not that he could have done anything; he was knackered to the point of unexpectedly dozing for a few minutes at time. After he’d eaten the sandwich she’d made him earlier, he’d slept for two hours.
Night had fallen, and she was changing his bandages again. It was bloody exhausting, but he sat up for her and lifted his arms so she could work. She started with his face, cleaning it with antiseptic and then using his own healing salve on the cuts. He didn’t trust that rubbish from the hospital.
Hermione gently smeared the same salve that he used on her cane marks over his face. He looked very shiny on one side, but he waved her hand away when she tried to rub it in more. Moving on to his shoulder, she rubbed the blue paste into his joint and then kissed his arm.
“Are you going to kiss everything?” he asked with a tired lift of one eyebrow.
“Yes,” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
He wasn’t complaining. The graffiti on his chest throbbed no matter how lightly she touched him. The antiseptic still stung a bit, but he gritted his teeth and focused on her stiff nipples. (She’d thought he was joking when he told her he wanted her naked while she re-bandaged him, but he knew he’d need something to distract him from the misery.)
Hermione wrapped his chest again. It made her sad to see the carved words; she wanted to keep it hidden. His hands would be healed by morning, probably his legs too. The bruises were starting to fade, and the cuts and scrapes were sealing nicely. She hoped his face would be better in the morning. It looked as if it hurt him to eat and talk. Kissing his knees, she finished with her nursing and set all the jars on the bedside table. “All done. You want to go to the loo?”
He sighed. That seemed like a long walk. “I suppose. First go down and get me some healing elixirs.”
“Where?”
“Go down to my lab. At the foot of the stairs is a trunk. Open it, and on top you’ll find a polished wooden box. It’s the size of a large book. Bring the whole thing up here.”
Hermione nodded. She’d never been in his lab. It felt like a forbidden land. When she started down the back stairs off the utility room, she kept waiting for wards to go off or something, like his storeroom at school. It was dark in the cellar and smelled of earth. Lighting her wand, she tiptoed down the stairs, finding the trunk just where he said it would be. Hermione looked around the rest of the room before opening it.
He hadn’t been lying when he said there wasn’t much room down there. It was wall-to-wall jars, phials, tubes, books, beakers, cauldrons, boxes of ingredients, and notebooks. There was an island in the middle where he obviously did his actual work. All the other counters were covered.
She opened the trunk and found nothing but boxes. Hermione guessed he wanted the one in the middle. It looked like the box that held her mother’s silver. Picking it up, she noticed another box right next to it made of black polished wood. It was a little smaller but also matched his description. She picked it up and set them both on the island. In the first, she found small phials lining the inside. They weren’t labeled, but she thought she recognized some of them.
When she opened the smaller black box, it took her a second to recognize what she was seeing. Not potions. At first she couldn't see much of anything. Black cloth covered what was inside, and she was about to close it, figuring the other box was what he wanted. But she recognized her own handwriting on a small piece of parchment, and her curiosity got the better of her.
It wasn’t black cloth covering the contents; it was the knickers she’d worn the very first time he’d spanked her. She picked them up, confused but amused. I can’t believe he still has these. Why is he keeping them in the cellar? Underneath, she discovered another pair of lacy knickers she’d left in his room and the bra she’d left on his pillow one morning. Smiling to herself, she found the knickers she’d sent him over the summer still in the plastic bag.
Beneath the collection of her underwear were scraps of parchment. She picked up one after another and scanned them. He’d saved every single note and letter she’d ever written to him. The letters from the start of summer were on the top. But he also had every note from school. Her handwriting, begging to meet him and questions about what time and where. Everything. He had notes she’d written him in that very house. Gone to get lunch. I finished that book you left for me. You'd better be naked when I get home. At the bottom of the stack, she found the picture of them from The Daily Prophet (he'd cut away the caption).
Hermione smiled and dug deeper. There was a red tulip from the garden, dry and flat, as if it’d been pressed in a book. She recognized it immediately. He’d picked it for her and left it at her place on the kitchen table after the first night they’d gone to Eros. Beside that she found two phials. One appeared to be sand; it had to be from the beach. The other was her blood from their first time. It looked as though he’d only used the small amount that it took to make her pendant. She put one hand to her breast and felt the amber through her shirt.
Her heart felt as though it had floated out of her body. She had no idea he was so sentimental. Even she hadn’t kept that much from him. His letters were with her things at Grimmauld Place, but she hadn’t kept every single note he’d ever written her. Quickly, she put everything back where she'd found it. I shouldn’t have been snooping. If he wants to keep these things to himself, it’s his business. He’d be suspicious if she came back from the cellar overly emotional.
Hermione put the box back where she’d found it and shut the trunk. The discovery was a happy secret she could carry around with her. When she got up to the bedroom, he gave her an exhausted look, his eyelids drooping with sleep.
“What took you so long?”
“It was dark down there,” she answered, setting the box on the bed.
“Hm,” he muttered. “Pass that over here.”
Hermione set the box on his lap. He lifted the lid and started pulling out phials and setting them next to him on the bed. “You want a Tranquility Draught?”
“No thanks. What all are you taking?” she asked as his pile grew.
“Repairing Elixer, Healing Potion, Renewal Concoction, Regeneration Brew, Tranquility Draught, a muscle relaxer, and a sleeping potion.”
“Should you take all those at once?”
“I’ve taken more than that before,” he muttered.
“They won’t counteract each other? You need to sleep.”
He nodded and tipped one back, swallowing the orange liquid. “None of these will wake me up. I’ll take the sleeping potion in a couple of hours.”
“Severus, you’ll be high as a Nimbus on all that.”
He flashed her a small smirk and downed another phial. “Don’t take advantage of me”

- - - - - - - - - -
The rest of the night turned out to be highly amusing. Hermione got him to the loo and back before the potions all ganged up on him. She was tucking him back into the bed when he found her hand and wove his fingers between hers.
“It’s bedtime,” he informed her.
Hermione bit back a smile. “I should take a shower. I’m filthy.”
“Filthy,” he repeated. “Fil-thy.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. Why did you put on your clothes?”
She hadn’t “put on clothes." She was only wearing her knickers and a t-shirt. “I was cold, and I didn’t want to run around the house starkers.”
“I can get you warm.”
Hermione smiled. Potion-popping Snape was much more friendly. “I know you can. You’re very good at it. But right now, I don’t want you to hurt yourself. So just try to lie still, and I’ll go take a quick shower.”
“Strip for me.”
She laughed. “I’m not really a dancer.”
“Yes, you are. I saw you at the Yule Ball.”
Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “That was in fourth year. Were you spying on me?”
“No, we had to keep an eye on Harry.”
“I see. Well, jumping about and slow dancing aren’t really stripping.”
“Take off your clothes. I want to see you before you shower.”
He let go of her hand, and Hermione smiled as she pulled her shirt over her head.
“Nice. Knickers too,” he said, nodding at her to take off her red panties.
Wiggling them over her hips, she pushed her knickers to the floor then lifted her foot to catch hold. She tossed them over to him as she walked out the door. “Stay in bed. I’ll be right back.”
Showering as fast as she could, she hurried out, wrapping a towel around herself before going back to the bedroom. She found Snape petting her knickers like a cat on his chest with his good hand.
“Want a snack before we go to bed?” she asked. “We didn’t really eat dinner.”
“By snack do you mean pussy?” he asked in a groggy voice.
“No, I mean food. Sustenance.”
“Will you feed me? My arm’s broken.”
She laughed. “Your arm isn’t broken. But, yes, I will feed you.”
“Naked?”
That just made her laugh harder. “Yes. If you like.”
“What are we having?”
“I’ll have to go look. Chicken?”
“Chicken is nice,” he told her knickers.
Hermione kissed the tip of his nose. “I’ll be right back.”
“That’s nice.”
Hermione went downstairs and rummaged around for something appropriate. Sliced chicken and cheese. Biscuits and juice. Carrying it all back upstairs, she started giggling when she found him sniffing her knickers.
“Severus,” she said through her giggling. “Stop. I’ve got food for you.”
“You knickers smell nice,” he commented as she set the food in her spot. “Like your pussy.”
“Thank you, love.” She smiled and dropped her towel. “What do you want first? Juice?”
He struggled to sit up, and she held out her arm to help him. When he was somewhat vertical, he leaned back on the pillows and panted. “Fuck. I’m spent.”
“You’ll feel better once you eat something.”
Snape let her feed him slices of chicken wrapped around cheese while he managed the glass of juice. She was worried he’d spill it on the bed, but he seemed too tired to keep it lifted more than a few seconds and mostly just let it rest next to him.
Once he’d eaten five chocolate biscuits, he seemed to be delirious with exhaustion. Hermione folded up the biscuit box and took his glass. “Come on, Severus. Let’s go to bed.”
“Aren’t I in bed?”
“Yes, but you should lie down so you don’t hurt your neck and back.” She helped him to lie flat. “There. Better?”
“I’m tired," he said, sounding miserable.
“That’s good. I want you to go to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“I won’t.”
She pressed into his good side, his left hand bumping into her muff. Hermione leaned in and kissed his hurt cheek. “I’ll kiss you until you feel better,” she offered.
He looked at her. “Why are you so nice?”
“Because I love you.”
“You’re nice to everyone.”
“But I only love you.”
“You love Harry and Ron. And your parents. And Albus. And McGonagall. And Molly. And Ginny.”
“Okay, okay,” she agreed, stopping him before he named the entire Order. “Yes, I love a lot of people. But I’m only in love with you.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I care about everyone very deeply, but you’re the only one who I need to see every day. You make me happy, Severus. You’re the only one I want to kiss and spend all my time with. No one else makes my stomach flip like you.”
He smiled with doped pleasure at her answer. “Kiss me.”
Hermione grinned and kissed his lips, careful to avoid the bruised side.
“Kiss me like you mean it,” he mumbled.
“I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve got a big bruise right here,” she said, gently touching the corner of his mouth.
“I don’t care." He slid his hand between the warmth of her thighs. “I can’t sleep unless you kiss me properly.”
Hermione smiled and stroked his arm. “I’ll do it if you promise not to get too excited. You need to rest.”
“Very well, I promise.”
Hermione brushed her lips over his, kissing him softly before she ran her tongue along the seam of his mouth. His tongue met hers, and she swirled over his. His reaction time was slowed. He kissed her back but in fits and starts, as if he were falling asleep and jerking awake every now and then.
She was worried he needed more air and pulled away, giving his lower lip one last parting peck. “Is that what you wanted?”
“More.”
“When you’re feeling better. Just go to sleep now. Do you want your sleeping potion?”
“Yes.”
She rolled over and got it from the table. “Bottoms up.”
“That’s what I usually say to you.”
Hermione laughed as he drank the phial’s contents. “I suppose you do. Listen, I don’t want to hurt you tonight in my sleep. I'd better not get too close.”
Severus dropped the glass tube into her hand. “I need you to touch me.”
“You mean while you sleep?”
“Yes.”
Hermione got on her side and slipped her hand into his. “How’s this.”
“More.”
Her foot touched his leg.
“More.”
Hermione smiled and pressed her lower leg to his.
“Okay. Now tell me a story.”
Hermione burst out laughing. “A story? About what?”
“I don’t know. Something that ends with sex.”
“Are you serious?”
“Very. Start.”
She sighed, not having any idea where to begin.
“Once upon a time,” he prodded.
Hermione breathed out a silent giggle. “All right, all right. Once upon a time there was a princess—“
“A Gryffindor princess?” he interrupted.
Snickering, she nodded and used her wand to turn off the lights. “Very well, yes, a Gryffindor princess.”
“Does she meet a Slytherin Potions master?”
“You’ve heard this one before.”
“No, just a guess.”
“You’re very clever.”
“Go on.”
“Once upon a time, there was a Gryffindor princess who spent all her time in one lonely tower reading books. Her friends would beg her to come to balls with them and meet the court, but she wasn’t much for parties and such. The fancy dresses and fine food didn’t hold her interest. The entire kingdom thought she was very strange—and a bit sad—and wrote her off as the most boring princess ever.”
“Beedle the Bard had nothing on you,” he mumbled.
“Shh. One day a traveling Slytherin Potions master came by the palace and was given food and shelter for the night. He couldn’t sleep and wandered the halls until he came across the princess reading in her lonely tower. He didn’t ask her why she preferred the company of books, for he had his own library to curl up with at night. But he’d never met another person who shared his lust for knowledge."
“Lust.”
“Shh,” she said, smiling. “He was a very cunning Slytherin, and he told the princess he had knowledge that she couldn’t find in any book. The princess was intrigued, and bade him to reveal this secret knowledge. He told her that it could never be relayed in a mere telling. But if she allowed him to share her bed for three nights, he would open her eyes to a new world of information.
“Such was her love of knowledge that she agreed to his terms. She was saving herself for a wizard who could match her in wits and passion. All the other suiters had bored her to tears, and she had quickly lost interest. When she met the right wizard, she would let him bed her and announce to the kingdom that she had taken a prince."
“I’m a Prince,” he slurred.
“I know,” she whispered. “After spending the entire day with the princess, reading in her tower, the Potions master gave her a book. She’d never seen anything like it. She’d read about sex but never like this. His book was not filled with romance and swarthy bandits, but chains and leather. She re-read her favorite parts over and over until her cunt was slippery with excitement.
“That night, the Potions master took her over his knee and lifted her skirts. He told her the first thing he had to teach her was that pleasure and pain were two sides of the same coin, and if she accepted the sting of his hand, she would receive the corresponding satisfaction. The princess agreed and took his spanking with great apprehension. Her bum burned and stung, but she felt her sex wetting despite the pain. When he finished, his hand cupped her, and she writhed as his fingers brought her to completion. For the first time in her life, someone had given her more pleasure than her books; and she couldn’t wait for his next tutorial.
“The next day brought a new book, and she spent hours poring over it, hungry for the delights it described. When he came to her that night, the lesson he taught her was that mouths could be used for more than eating meals and debates. He laid her in the bed and uncovered her dripping cunt. He feasted on her, and when she screamed, he buried his tongue in her virgin hole and tickled her clit with his nose.”
“Love,” he muttered
“Yes?”
“He loves her.”
Hermione bit her tongue, blinking rapidly until her eyes stopped burning. “Yes,” she said, kissing his shoulder, "he does. She begged him to let her taste him as well, but he refused. She hadn’t proven herself yet. He knew she would be unleashed by his talents when she was ready. She slept in his arms and woke to find a new book in his place
“The third day left her desperate and forlorn at his absence. The Potions master returned that night, and she ran her hands all over him, begging him to let her feel him without the armor of his clothes. He denied her, but her ardor was so strong she would not leave him be. He had to tie her to the bed, her belly pressed to the feather mattress. He bared her backside and strapped her until she could no longer cry.
“The princess thought that he would leave her that way until morning, but she felt him part her cheeks and lap at her forbidden entrance. She knew she should cry for him to desist, but her mouth would not form the words. When his finger entered her dark hole, she moaned and begged for more. He left her satisfied many times over that night, and she knew that she’d found the man with whom she should share her library forever and ever.
“In the morning, he was gone, and no one in the castle could find him. She went in search of him, combing the countryside for the one man who could outshine her books. On the third night of her search, she came upon a lonely hut on the edge of the forest. When she knocked on the door, she found an old man with a long white beard that matched the white scales over his eyes. She asked if he knew of the Potions master she sought, and he told her that he knew just such a man. He brought out a book, telling her it was hers if she wanted it; he could no longer see to read.
“Confused by his gift, she sat beneath the stars, reading by the full moon. The book told of a dark-haired wizard, a Slytherin Potions master, who had gone into hiding after killing the evil wizard who had murdered his fiancé. The princess was heartbroken to read of his sad tale, and when her tears hit the parchment, she was amazed to see a key magically appear.
“She went back to the old man and asked if he knew what the key opened; the old man pointed to a door at the back of his hut. The princess knew it couldn’t go anywhere; his hut was only one room. But she went to the door and put the key in the lock. Only darkness lay beyond; she looked at the old man, confused. He nodded at her with a smile, and the princess gathered her courage then stepped into the void.
“The darkness disappeared, and she found herself back in her tower at the palace. She looked around, crying out when she saw the Potions master sitting calmly by the window. Running to him, she embraced him and begged him to tell her how she came to be back in her own castle and whether he would stay.
“The Potions master told her his heart had been broken when his maiden had died, but that the princess had proven herself worthy of his time. She was determined and brave; he knew she would never deceive him as so many others had done. He agreed to stay with her in the palace and share her bed, but his heart was too damaged for anything more.
“The kingdom was aghast at the news, but they could do nothing but gossip about the arrangement. The princess was happy, and she did her best to make the Potions master happy. He continued to deny her requests for deflowering, saying she should find someone to marry. But the princess wanted no one else, and after several months, he relented.
“That night the princess took his manhood in her mouth as he’d taught her, and when he was like stone, she told him that she needed him and felt an emptiness inside her that was eating her alive. When she kissed him, the Potions master felt his heart stitch itself back together. It was still weak, and he doubted its ability to hold; but he cared for the princess’s wellbeing.
“His cock filled her, and he rolled her in his arms, watching as she climaxed beneath him. As her virgin’s blood and release soaked his sex, he whispered that he loved her. She began to cry, not thinking that he would ever say it. When her tears touched his fingers, she heard him gasp. The circles around his eyes faded, and the lines around his mouth disappeared. He no longer looked drawn and sad.
“No one in the kingdom recognized him after that. He didn’t recognize himself. The princess had not saved him. He had saved himself—his heart no longer torn and afraid to feel. They spent their days in joyful splendor and their nights in each others arms. Severus?”
There was no answer, only soft breathing.
“Are you asleep?”
No change in his breathing.
“And they lived happily ever after.”

_______________________________________
Hermione finished washing the dishes from breakfast. Severus was reading upstairs. He'd said that he’d slept well and felt much better. (He’d fallen asleep in the middle of her story and had dreamt of locked corridors and finding her in his garden.) The scratches and scrapes were mostly healed, and his face looked quite a bit better. Hermione had made him toast and cereal and told him she’d go out and get them some kind of meat for lunch. They couldn’t live on biscuits and cereal.
There was a knock at the front door, and she peeked through the peephole to see who on earth could be there so early.
“Mrs. Weasley,” she said, opening the door. “What are you doing here?”
Molly was carrying several large dishes, and Hermione saw she wasn’t alone. Lupin was behind her, carrying a laughing Teddy. “Remus! And Teddy! What’s going on?”
“Harry and Ron told us about Severus, dear. I thought you might need some food.” Molly smiled and nodded at the dishes.
“You know there’s a dead cat on your steps?” Lupin asked, looking over his shoulder.
Hermione smiled as Teddy waved at the cat. “He’s not dead. I promise.”
Hermione stood back and waved them both inside. “The kitchen’s right through there. Thank you so much, Mrs. Weasley. I was just about to go out, but I didn’t want to leave Severus alone again.”
“Think nothing of it, dear. I’m glad to help.”
Lupin followed Molly into the kitchen. “I just came to see how Snape was. The Prophet didn’t really give a status update.”
“The Prophet?” She ran to the door and found the paper on the mat. Attack in Knockturn Alley! it proclaimed in giant letters above a picture of the broken front window of the shop. Hermione read as she walked back into the kitchen.
An attack by a rogue runner yesterday left six injured. Faulkner’s Apothecary in Knockturn Alley was the site of a blitz attack Thursday morning. At approximately 10:45 an as yet unidentified male with dark hair entered the establishment and started throwing curses with no warning. The target of this attack appears to have been Severus Snape, Hogwart’s Potions master, order of Merlin first class. Eyewitnesses say that the runner fired a curse at Snape’s back. Snape’s response was in slow motion as the runner fired more curses. The other patrons fled, some being hit by exploding potion jars; and the proprietor, Marcus Faulkner III, was hit by a stray curse that left him unconscious on the floor. Eyewitnesses say that the runner hit Snape with a Cruciatus and the screaming went on for almost five minutes before Snape blacked out. The runner then cut open Snape’s shirt and carved something on his chest with his wand. All the eyewitnesses say that there was too much blood to identify whether it was words or a symbol. An Auror, Nathanial Beaumont, arrived at the scene within minutes and apprehended the runner as he burst out of the apothecary. Snape and Faulkner were rushed to St. Mungo’s along with the other injured patrons. St. Mungo’s has released no word on their condition.
Hermione sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, feeling sick. “Oh my God. He didn’t tell me all that,” she whispered.
Lupin and Molly glanced at each other, and Lupin said, “He might not remember, Hermione. The Cruciatus curse can do funny things to your mind.”
Molly put her arm around Hermione. “Or maybe he just didn’t want you to worry.”
Lupin nodded. “I don’t think Nymphadora tells me all the things that happen to her. She knows it would scare me to death.”
“How is he?” Molly asked, putting the casserole dishes in the refrigerator.
“Not great,” Hermione admitted. “They let him out of hospital, but he looks like hell. Half his face is black and blue, but most of the scratches have healed. His arm was dislocated, and he’s covered in bruises.” Tears sprang to her eyes; she blinked them back. “That man carved blood traitor into his chest. It’s bandaged right now, but it looks . . . horrendous. Painful.”
“How’s he taking it?” Lupin asked.
“I’m not sure. He took a bunch of potions to heal and sleep last night. Maybe they helped. Or maybe he’s just trying to escape. I’ll go tell him you’re here.”
Hermione climbed the stairs and opened the bedroom door. Snape looked up from his book.
“Who’s at the door?”
“Molly and Lupin. And Teddy,” she added.
“What do they want?”
She went around to his side of the bed and kissed his hurt shoulder. “Molly brought food, and they both wanted to make sure you’re all right. Do you want to see them?”
“Not really.”
“You’re in The Daily Prophet.”
He rolled his eyes. “What now? Death Eater gets what’s coming to him?”
“No, it was pretty straightforward.”
“News. That’s a change for The Prophet.”
“I’ll tell them you’re too tired for company.”
“It’s not a lie.”
She kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Molly and Lupin weren’t surprised that Snape wouldn’t see them. They both told Hermione that if she needed anything at all she should Floo them. Hermione assured them she would and sat in the kitchen after they left, re-reading the article. She kept running different scenarios in her mind. What if the man had killed him instead of just cutting him? How many more runners were out there with a grudge against Snape? She touched her pendant with one finger, thinking.
Snape needed all the protection she could give him. Hermione got up and went to his library. He must have a book on talismans somewhere.

_____________________________________
Dear Draco,
Do you know someone who can make custom jewelry? I want to make Severus a talisman, but I think the only thing he’d be willing to wear is ring. If I make the stone, I need a way to set it.
—HG
P.S. Do you know where I can buy a nurse uniform?
____________________________________
Dearest Granger,
Of course I know someone who makes custom jewelry. What kind of pureblood do you take me for? Get me the stone, and I’ll set it up. Is Snape really hurt? I never know when The Daily Prophet is lying anymore. I’m pretty sure I can find you a nurse uniform. I take it you mean a muggle nurse. Mediwitches aren’t particularly sexy. Give me a day or two. I’ll owl you.
Your savior, again, Draco

___________________________________
Hermione pored through Snape’s books on talismans. She was going to have to steal three drops of her own blood from his box if she wanted it to be powerful. But it was her blood, and she was going to do whatever it took to keep him safe. Sometimes stealing was necessary.
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Teaching Miss Granger