A Different Kind of Magic--UNDERGOING EDIT

Thanks to my wonderful beta sempra for all her hard work!


Chapter 5- A Sonnet Never Sounded So Sweet

Severus's dreams were again filled with snakes, Dementors, the Dark Lord, and Albus, who was pleading with him as the killing curse ripped into him, sending the old man flying off the top of the Astronomy Tower. Severus was tense, every muscle shaking under the strain of his internal battle against darkness.

The convulsions started again as Hermione was just starting her shift. Deidre had just filled her in on the uneventful day, along with her amusing exchange with the professor that morning. This evening, just like every other, was bound to be filled with sadness for the plight of her former Potions professor. It saddened her deeply to see such a strong, deeply private man, of such intense conviction, in such a helpless state.

She had immediately volunteered to watch over him once he was transferred from St. Mungo's. She felt it was her duty; she had saved his life. After all he had done for the Order, she had to repay his sacrifice in kind, when others would have forgotten about him or dismissed his achievements because of his former Death Eater status. None of that meant a thing to her. When the truth had come out about the great lengths to which he had gone, she was instantly shamed at her doubt of his innocence. She had always known in her heart he would never betray the Order's confidence, despite the misgivings of her friends.

Hermione often had flashbacks of when she had saved him that fateful time in the Shrieking Shack. There had been blood everywhere. Two large, distinct puncture wounds in the professor's neck made it obvious as to what tragedy had befallen him. She hadn't given it a second thought when she'd dropped to her knees and sucked and spit as much venom from the wound as she possibly could. There had been no way on earth this feeble gesture could have saved his life along with the hastily cast healing charms she knew of, but remarkably, it had. Something had passed between her and the dark wizard that day. Her magic had shifted ever-so-slightly and in a way, she felt bound to him by duty and- something more.

After the final battle, Harry had urged her to train as an Auror and take up the continued fight to find and convict the rest of the escaped Death Eaters, but she had wanted to feel as if she were making a difference on a personal level. Hermione knew no one else was going to volunteer for this particular venture. She had requested to be placed with Professor Snape at this medical facility to train as a medi-witch, well, Muggle nurse, for the time being, and continue to watch over him. She speculated about what his reaction would be when he figured out the true nature of this facility. Small shudders invaded her body at the thought. Banishing the future to where it belonged, she turned her attentions back to her patient.

The convulsions were an almost-nightly ordeal. She had to administer a sedative and muscle relaxant infusion to take the edge off. Hermione had to massage his arms, legs, torso, back, and neck at the beginning and end of each shift, as well as turn him so he didn't develop bedsores. At first, she was hesitant to touch her professor so intimately, but she soon learned there was nothing she wouldn't see during her training. How else was he to be bathed, dressed, changed, and cared for? So she fell into a comfortable routine of caring for him during her twelve-hour night shift, helping as a float during the daytime, and catching six or seven hours of sleep before returning to her vigil with Professor Snape.

The inquiries about his health had stopped coming in, save for Minerva's monthly owl. Professor McGonagall seemed to be the only one who cared. She had expected as much. Dr. Shaw didn't think he would ever come out of the coma, as Nagini's poison had never really been fully expunged from Snape's bloodstream. Dr. Shaw suspected this was the reason for his convulsions, but no one could be sure. She began this night as she had any other, attending to him with the proper medication, checking his bags of fluids, and massaging his extremities until the convulsions ceased.

Severus awoke to the feeling of warm, wonderful hands kneading his feet. Sweet Circe that felt good. He realized he was trembling involuntarily, giving a stark yelp of surprise. Miss Granger quickly looked up and realized he was awake and aware of the convulsions.

"Don't be alarmed, Professor, I've given you medication that should help with the convulsions. I am going to keep massaging you until they stop. Do you understand?" He nodded once to indicate he did. She looked at him kindly and said, "Professor Snape, I know this is a very frightening and stressful time for you, but we are going to do everything in our power to restore your health. Do you understand?"

He was getting really irritated that she kept asking him the same question multiple times. Of course he understood! He wasn't stupid. Severus screwed his face into the perfect sneer, biting out his retort. "Miss Granger," he snapped, shocked to find that his voice had fully returned while he slept, "there is nothing wrong with my mind. I am not an inept first year that cannot comprehend a simple explanation. I would, however, like to inquire as to why I can move my head, but not the rest of my body." Straining to hold up his head to see her was tiring him out very quickly. Defeated by his useless body, he let his head fall back to the pillow.

She seemed to pay his tone no mind. In fact, Miss Granger seemed absolutely ecstatic he was awake and speaking to her, as if it was her only goal in life, and she had finally achieved success. "Oh, Professor, it's so good to hear your voice again! You have no idea how I've prayed for your recovery."

Severus gave a much undignified snort. "I highly doubt, Miss Granger, praying had anything to do with it. In fact, I rather think this is my punishment for being such a bastard my entire life, although I am not surprised you should find such glee in celebrating my discomfort. After all, you probably have seen every inch of my useless corpse, so it bears noting that you needed something new to brighten up your dull existence. I suppose you are probably to blame for this entire situation, as well."

Clear as a bell, Hermione's laughter rang out through the still of the room. She continued kneading his feet, working her way up first one side, then down the other, her careful ministrations most effectively ceasing the convulsions.

"And what, do tell, is so fucking amusing, Miss Granger," he said. He attempted to be menacing, but he just didn't have the heart to put the bite into his words.

"You haven't changed one bit, Professor Snape. Here I was feeling sorry for you, and you obviously are taking no such position on your own account. Oh, it's too rich. Honestly, of all the conversations we could be having, and you're still griping about existing and how brassed off you are that I am actually happy you are awake. It really is too much."

He was quiet for a moment, enjoying the feel of her lovely fingers working on his other foot, ending the horrible cramping he could do nothing about. He would never admit it to her, but he wished she would keep touching him like that all night, just to remind him he was alive.

"I am pleased you find my discomfiture to be such a great source of amusement. Now, if you don't mind, Miss Granger, I would appreciate some answers. Oh, and don't give me that bullshite that Dr. Shaw doesn't want me to know. I've obviously been out of commission for a number of months, and I have every fucking right to know where I am, how long I've been in a coma, and why I can't move my fucking body!" His breath was coming in great shallow gasps, having outdone him with the outburst. He felt weak and pathetic. There was nothing more he wanted than to just have someone put him out of his misery.

Hermione continued to knead and ply his taut muscles into putty, now up to his right thigh. He was now able to maintain eye contact as she worked. "Professor," she began slowly, treading carefully against her boss's orders, "I will give you the information you seek, if you promise to not exert yourself like that again. It is vital to your recovery you remain calm. Can you do that for me?"

He nodded once, the breath in his chest starting to come more evenly as he concentrated on her talented fingers. She drew a deep draught of air and let it out before continuing, as if steeling herself against a further tirade. "You've been in a coma for six months, Professor."

His eyes widened at this, but he didn't utter a word. He wanted her to continue, to explain the full extent of his injury. "After Nagini bit you, Ron and I found you inside the Shrieking Shack. We thought you were dead, but I had a feeling you weren't totally gone. I sucked out as much venom from your wound as I could and stabilised you with a few healing spells. Ron went back to the battlefield but I immediately Apparated with you to St. Mungo's. The Healers were insistent there was nothing they could do for you, as they said you had lost too much blood. I closed your wounds and begged them to give you a Blood Replenishing potion, but they refused, saying it was a waste since you were so close to Death's door."

She closed her eyes against the memory, and he could see she was willing herself not to cry in front of him again. "I Apparated back to Hogwarts and managed to sneak in the far side of the castle, away from the battle, through a passageway George and Fred had showed us back when we were third years.

"I was able to break into the Headmaster's office, since he was dead." She gritted her teeth at the unbidden memory. "Dumbledore told us he kept a small stash of potions in a drawer, in case of extreme emergency. He had told Harry and me about it, just before everything had gone to hell. It's a good thing, too, or you wouldn't be here today."

She stopped speaking momentarily to switch to massaging his trembling right hand and arm. "I grabbed everything out of that drawer without even looking at it. I ran straight back to the Apparition point and Apparated to St. Mungo's. I thought for sure you were dead by then, but I knew I had to try to save you. Something told me you were still alive; I just knew you were still alive!" A tiny sob escaped her, and she bit the soft flesh of her lower lip as a tear streaked a lonely path down her cheek.

She made eye contact with him, compassion burning behind her eyes. "Professor, I'm afraid I did something entirely foolish. I poured every single potion down your throat without even looking at the labels."

He winced outwardly, unable to contain his expression at that blunt statement. Hermione shrugged. "I was so distraught and overwrought, I didn't even think twice. I just poured them down your throat and hoped for the best." She worked for several minutes in absolute silence, concentrating on a hard knot in his shoulder that made him wince. "Sorry, Professor," she murmured, intent on working it free. Finally succeeding, she moved around to the other side to continue the massage.

"Ron seriously thought I'd gone all barmy. He was furious when he found out I'd gone ahead and helped a person he vehemently thought was a traitor. Mind you, I'm ashamed to say there were times I felt my faith in you falter, but I just knew in my heart that if Professor Dumbledore had trusted you, you just couldn't be the kind of man they said you were. It turns out I was right, although that is still to be proven to the rest of the wizarding world," she confided. It was difficult for her to describe, even to herself, the way her heart leapt to his defense at the thought of others distrusting him. Call it ‘woman's intuition', but she felt to the core of her being Severus was a man of integrity. She had made it her mission to see him exonerated.

So that explained one thing. He was still under suspicion. He had expected as much, but it was good to know such things. He let her continue.

"I fell asleep next to your hospital bed, wrung out to dry with dirt and noise all around us from the wounded overflowing the hospital. Several hours later, I woke up to Dr. Shaw shouting at the medi-witches to get their arses into the room and get you stabilized. I don't know how, but whatever I gave you must have helped you pull through, because you made it. You hung on and stayed alive, barely, but you did. Days passed by and you didn't wake up. The days turned into weeks, and the Healers had done all they could for you. They still don't know if your coma was caused by Nagini's poison, the potion combination I gave you, or both, but it couldn't be helped at that point. So they transferred you here, and I volunteered to stay on and look after you while training as a medi-witch, although I'm more of a Muggle nurse, since we aren't allowed magic here. It was the least I could do for all the sacrifices you've made for the Order." She finished speaking and firmly, but gently, rolled him onto his stomach like a puppet. She began kneading his back while he groaned.

He suffered in companionable silence for a while, deliciously savoring every drop of madness pushed from his taut muscles. "And where is ‘here,' exactly, Miss Granger? I distinctly remember a time when I awoke to find a horrid old toad asleep in the chair by the fireplace with the window open, letting the bitterly cold air in. I nearly froze to death, wondering vaguely what the hell I was doing in such a place. I was surprised to find myself unable to use even a simple levitation spell to knock her awake. You have answered my question about the lack of magic in this place, but I would like to know why I have been nursed through a coma, only to awaken to the North Pole invading my sick bed. Would you care to explain that scenario, Miss Granger?" he bit out. His tone was a tad harsh, but that was good if it made her uncomfortable. He deserved some fucking answers for a change.

Hermione sighed again. "That, Professor, was old Mrs. McGillis. We didn't have anyone to cover the dayshift, as half the staff was out with the flu, and Dr. Shaw wanted you watched around the clock. Old McGillis is a drunk and never should have been allowed in this room, but her assignment was overlooked by a nurse who doesn't usually cover this ward."

Her expert hands moved lower, and he groaned with pleasure. "She's usually just a custodian, but we were desperate for the help, so someone shoved her in here. She must have opened the window and fallen asleep. I didn't discover her passed out drunk until I came in for my shift at 6 p.m. I had already worked forty-eight hours with no sleep, or I would have been in before then."

She stopped her kneading momentarily, her voice catching, sounding hoarse. "You almost died that day, Professor. If I hadn't come in when I did..." and then she shuddered, shaking her head to clear the memory. "That was why you took such a fever; the old bat nearly froze you to death. For that, I have no excuses, Professor, only my most sincere apology and the promise it will never happen again. I persuaded Deidre to come to this ward as a personal favor. I healed her father of a particularly nasty head wound, and she owes me one. At least now I don't have to worry about you during the daytime. Deidre is fab at taking care of her patients. I wouldn't trust anyone else with your care in my absence, Professor. This is a Muggle facility run by the Ministry of Magic, if that makes sense. As I've explained, no one can use magic here."

Hermione carefully lifted back the sheets, lightly manipulating his buttocks with the heel of her hands, grinding in ever-increasing circles against their clenched state. Nothing ever felt so glorious. He wished she would continue on forever, talking endlessly with those wonderful hands on his body, soothing and caressing away the hurts and spasms. He didn't want it to end, but she eventually pulled him onto his back and straightened his gown, tubes, and wires, while looking at him hesitantly. "Yes, Miss Granger?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. He could tell she was a bit distracted.

"I need to give you your sponge bath, Professor; is that all right? I mean, I'm the only one who has done that since your transfer, but if you prefer, I can get someone else to do it instead."

Maddeningly, she bit her lower lip again and averted her eyes, fidgeting with a lock of hair.

Steady, old boy, he counselled himself, and then said softly, "I see no reason to change the arrangements that have already been made, now that I am conscious, Miss Granger. You may proceed."

With his consent, she did. He was surprised that her touch was quick and light, yet entirely thorough. She talked to him while she worked to keep their minds off the task, explaining that the medical staff didn't know why he couldn't move the rest of his body but still retained feeling in every part, surmising it must have something to do with the lingering effects of the poison as well. She confided that Dr. Shaw was hopeful that, now that the professor was awake, spontaneous movement might also improve.

Hermione was set with the task of moving his arms and legs about as well, essentially acting as a physical therapist. Apparently, she had done the bulk of his cares from the very start. He couldn't fathom why she would ever take on such a monumental, drudge-worthy task in the first place; he certainly didn't feel as if he deserved it. Despite his private misgivings, he quite enjoyed the attention and was more than happy to stay awake and listen to her ramblings about the hospital staff and the day shift nurse Deidre. He found it entirely entertaining that Hermione could barely understand a word the girl spoke, either, despite claiming to be good friends.

Hermione also explained that the Ministry-run makeshift hospital was in the North of Scotland. There were many such places, she explained, to ease the burden on the larger medical facilities in cases like his, which were long-term or complicated. He wondered how close they were to Hogwarts, but was too tired to ask.

Run by the Ministry. I am a captive, even in my current condition.

After what seemed like a few hours, she had finished with the bathing, dressing, grooming, and physical therapy, along with changing the sheets and determining all the wires and tubes were in the right place. She simply stood next to him with that annoying grin, fawning over him like a young child over a puppy at Yule.

Out of the blue she asked, "Professor, would you like me to read to you? It's something I've done over the past six months in hopes you'd hear me and come back to us. I've read everything in that bookcase ten times over, but I'll pick out whatever you'd like to hear and read aloud until you fall asleep. Of course, there's nothing over there except for Shakespeare, but if I remember correctly, you quoted some during our Potions class during our sixth and seventh year. Something related to the futility of educating the dunderheaded twats in today's society."

That was it. Even though he smiled inwardly, he would never let her see it. "Miss Granger, I'll have you know, just because I am indisposed, does not mean I wish to hear you run off at the mouth all night long. I actually quite enjoy the solitude. Now, if you don't mind, I am content as I am. You may attend to... whatever it is you do, Miss Granger." With that, he shut his eyes resolutely, turning his head the other way.

Hermione shook her head, grinning, turning toward the fire and poking it a few times. Then, as she was about to sit down in the armchair, she heard his voice once more.

"Per chance, Miss Granger, is there a copy of Shakespeare's Sonnets? You may read to me the Sonnets. That would be most acceptable." He still did not look at her, continuing to lay with his eyes closed, head turned toward the window.

Quiet as a church mouse, Hermione reached into the bookcase, divested it of a well-worn book of Shakespeare's Sonnets, and, starting at the beginning, read aloud all through the night and into the early morning. She never stopped to check and see if he was sleeping, only to monitor a few Muggle devices before continuing on.

At daybreak, she gently set down the book and performed the massages. He finally turned to look at her; never having fallen asleep, entirely enjoying the sound of her voice describe such beautiful and timeless prose. It took his breath away, the kindness she displayed toward him. He felt a twinge in his heart, something he did not quite understand, but he knew this was a person who truly cared for his well-being and looked beyond the damning judgments of the outside world. This time, right this moment, there was no one to make demands of him, require his obedience, or demand his allegiance. Only a pretty young woman, caught up in the unfortunate circumstance of war.

Quite gruffly, after clearing his throat several times, he managed to unwind enough to say, "Thank you, Miss Granger, for your kindness. I truly enjoyed the Sonnets. You speak most eloquently for such a young lady as yourself." His eyes were unable to meet hers as he tried to play down the hint of emotion in his voice.

Hermione smiled at him knowingly, very quietly replying, "You are most welcome, Professor Snape. It was my pleasure." With that, she turned over her shift to Deidre, quite looking forward to the next shift with the professor.