Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Torment Completed	By : Kvarta Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 31717 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. This story is purely for entertainment purposes, no money is being made from it.

Chapter List
- 54
- 55
- 56
A/N: @BlackRose " Blocks? What does that mean?!" - sorry, my Grammarly went rough on me and switched to American English, changed all British words even after I clicked "ignore". Ti supposed to say "Bolloks". "I wish Severus would get to see some of her memories. " - that would be neat, we'll see what will happen further down the road :)
To avoid further confusion:
Italic - Past, memories
‘Single quotation mark’ - inner monologue, thoughts
“double quotation mark” - actual speech
He tried to scoff at her. His voice rough and scratchy
“Don’t you dare, Granger.”
But the words sound broken, dissolved and shattered by the chatter of this teeth. There is no way around what’s going to happen next. His arm twitched, muscle trying to contract and stretch at the same moment. How much longer his ligaments will endure before they start to tear? Before the damage is permanent?
He can feel it. Her small hand pressing down on his right forearm, pinning it to the bed. He wants to speak, to send her off. It is nothing he can’t handle. He endured these aftershocks for years – alone. He can do it again – alone. He does not need her help. He does not need human touch or company. What he needs is to everyone leave him alone. Like the wounded beast. Alone to fade out quietly, unthreatened. Is it too much to ask? Just one, the last one, the act of mercy. Or is he doomed to muddle through this life without being on recipients end of mercy?
She leans, he feels the pressure of her torso on his ribs. She managed to hunt down his left arm. She pinned that arm too, to the bed. Her action adds to the whirlwind of emotions inside him. He opens his mouth to chase her away. The taste of copper fills his mouth. That’s is going to hurt tomorrow.
The top of her head presses gently on his chin, forcing his mouth to stay closed, tilting his head slightly back. He can feel her struggle. Her weight pressing him down. Her hands are warm. Too warm. It feels like pouring a sizzling oil over the open wound. It feels like silk. Now he can’t tell her to leave him be. She prevented even that! And no matter how much her unorthodox method efficiently serves the purpose, he can’t find a gratitude for it in his heart.
Warm puffs of her shallow, laboured breath create a moist patch on his neck. She is careful not to disturb the wound, turning her face to the other side. Tumbleweed residing on her head is anything but helpful. It tickles his face, nose, shoulders and collarbones. One might think that a padding of that magnitude can be the advantage in the situation rather than a problem.
He is not grateful! Is it too much to ask for solitude? Not visible to the bare eye but he is bleeding. Bleeding inside. It is enough that he has to face the entire ordeal. Witnesses are not desired nor welcomed.
Her feet are bearing in the middle of his tibias. Alarm bells in his head ring with clarity. They raise long neglected conundrum he has. His head, his freshly ripped off heart and his body are at odds. He despises it. The loss of the control. He was always the master of his mind and his body. He carefully measures every breath, little less everything else. Tight control and reign on his actions, feelings, thought processes is imperative. That kept him alive. That will help him in his future endeavours.
His head jerked. The sharp sound of chattering teeth and her soft yelp mixing with her laboured breathing. That had to be painful. His chin collided with the top of her head. She is not giving up. Nearly pressing her face to his neck, she gives her best to maintain her grip on him.
Salazar, will this ever stop? He wants to get rid of her. He wants her as far away as possible. Away from him. Tremors subside, only to reappear with the new onslaught.
‘Merlin, give me strength!’
~ S ~ S ~ S ~
Poppy stepped out of the fireplace and glanced around the room. Severus looks like he wrestled with the Death. Hermione looks bone tired. She approached the bed, casting diagnostic charms. Nothing out of the ordinary. The boy only needs some rest.
Narcissa slipped into the room. She stands near the door, unobtrusive. That girl always had good manners. She walks to the bed only when Poppy went to check on Hermione. The child faired well, more adapted to take care of him than she thought.
“Matron, can I ask a question?” Hermione’s voice is low
“Just a moment. My apologies Narcissa, we need some privacy.” She turns to the lady of the house
“It is fine, Madam Pomfrey”
She casts privacy spell. The one often used in hospital and turns to Hermione, casting diagnostic spell on her as well
“You can speak now, girl.”
“Can you tell me more about…ummm…”
“Lily Evans?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Girl, you are best friend with her son. You are taking care of Severus. There is only one connection between those two.”
“Well, yes. I suppose…”
“I can’t tell you much. She was a healthy girl. Clever as you can find them. Smart but not very studious, talented in magic. One thing she wasn’t… she was not a good match for him.”
“That is common knowledge. She married Harry’s dad.”
“Don’t speak rashly, girl. Learn to listen before judging. I am not talking about common knowledge. In old times people used to pair based on the compatibility of their magic. It may have caused revolt and tears, but in the end, unions forged like that were stronger. Suffice to say, wizarding world had no need for divorce laws back then. I note the magic one possess to a student’s chart, along with the name and eye colour. She was not a good match for him. That boy needs an inquiring mind, not a restless spirit.” She glanced at the man on the bed. “Too bad he never realised that.”
Hermione’s eyes went wide, she glanced at the bed, sadness colouring her eyes. For the girl, he is her teacher, but Poppy only sees a boy, too thin for his age, bruised, shy and too serious. He didn’t change much over the years. Finishing her diagnostic, she nods
“Do you know any couples that married that way nowadays?”
“I do, and so do you.” she smiles at the girl “You are as good as you can be.”
Canceling privacy spell, she bid her goodbye to Narcissa and hurried back to Hogwarts. She has the room full of kids with sniffles as an addition to usual mishaps.
~ S ~ S ~ S ~
Hermione felt tired, almost as tired as she was during their hunt for Horcruxes. It wasn’t only the lack of sleep of exhaustion. Her spirit feels tired. Her brain hurts when she tries to think.
All her efforts paid off. He regains his strength steadily. The discovery would make her happy if tonight never happened. With a gain of his strength, she discovered how hard it is to hold him down. It took too much of her strength to pin him down.
He is still composed of jutting bones and sharp edges. She is certain she has a bruise in a shape of his hip. Her head hurts and she has a bump in a spot where his chin collided with the top of her head. It was a difficult night. In more ways than one.
She tried, she did! And failed. At first, she tried to do what she usually does, to avoid as much contact as possible. But this time… finally, she abandoned all attempts to prevent contact and used her own weight to pin him down. Her arm muscles hurt from the struggle to hold his hand on the spot. It wasn’t easy when he was weaker, but now it’s almost impossible. He didn’t just trash like he used to. He was twitching and bucking, giving his best to arch his back. The entire experience left her bone-weary, muscle-sore and confused. Angry.
Once again, angry at faith. Angry at Dumbledore. If he knew that Snape will suffer the punishment – why not sending him right away? True, Harry would see him. But Harry saw the Mark on his hand anyway. And it isn’t like Harry trusted him before. There was no damage in that. Minister refused to listen to him anyway. So, what was the point? Why letting him wait? Why risking his life? He could have died that night.
How long Voldemort held him under the curse? And why he screamed? It is not the first time she saw…experienced his punishment. He never screamed before. Was it on purpose? He was so scared. How could he think and plot while being so scared?
She shakes her head, glancing at his direction. Narcissa is next to him, speaking softly, to low for her to hear. She has a look of a mother bent over a sick child. Suddenly, she is grateful. Grateful that he had at least someone who cared for him as much as all Malfoy’s did. There are things she has to think through, when she can think straight and when he’s asleep.
“Mrs Malfoy, can I ask you to stay with him? I need a moment to take a quick bath.” Her voice is unsure
“Go ahead, Miss Granger, take your time.”
She takes her things and enters the bathroom. The tub looks so inviting but if she gets into the tub she will feel asleep. Deciding on a shower she removed her clothes. Peace by peace. With each move, her joints pop and complain. Muscles tremble. Standing nude in front of the mirror she assesses the damage. She looks like she wrestled the ox. Above her hip, there is a bluish bruise. There is one on her thigh.
‘How that happened?’
She can’t even remember. There is a redness above her left collarbone where his shoulder hit when she lost her grip on him. She looks a mess. Her hair sticking in all directions. Dark circles under her eyes.
‘Gods! I look like him!’
The thought is not so disconcerting as she thinks it should be. Stepping into the shower, she groans when warm water surrounds her. Misty popped up and she shrieks. Elf shook her head with scorn on small face
“Missy already knows what Missy has.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Madam sent Misty. Missy is to use this after a shower.” Elf left one jar of bluish cream and one jar of pale green one “This blue is for bruises. This one for soreness.” Sniffled elf and disappeared.
She rubs her hair, wincing when her fingers graze the sore spot. The water feels so good. It washes the tiredness. The odd thing is, she is not upset. She is not concerned or scared or embarrassed. That is the novelty indeed. It didn’t bother her… the closeness. The feel of him beneath her.
‘Maybe I finally start to think like Medi-which?’
She knows that she is not cut out to be a healer. But, taking care of him is not one shock after another to her. It doesn’t bother her to touch him. His nakedness is not an issue anymore. True, he is not so much nude anymore. He is wearing those pyjama bottoms. Even after he complained, and argued for days on end when she proposed them. Poppy sorted things out, she gave him an option... to choose between briefs and pyjama bottoms. Poppy refused to bend and give him permission to wear the nightshirt.
Who still uses the nightshirts anymore? Besides him. Well, Malfoy’s. She discovered that one night when the alarm woke up the entire household. She frowned. Did she even see Snape wearing anything else but robes? No. She and Harry, even Ron, tend to put robes over Muggle clothes. But most of the wizards she met wear robes. Witches too.
The salves help. She makes a mental note to thank Mrs Malfoy later. When she returns to the room, Narcissa is still in the same position. She stands up from the bed and calls
“Misty. Take care of Severus, if Miss Granger needs to take care of him, come to my parlour for her.” Narcissa gives command to the elf
“Misty will, Madam.”
“Do you need anything, Severus.”
“Nay. Dead tired is all, love.” He slurred the words. Akcent is heavy and unfamiliar.
‘Did he called Narcissa Malfoy love just now?’ her brain rotates this question.
Narcissa pushes her towards the door
“Come along, Miss Granger. I believe you would benefit from a strong cup of tea.”
“I would die for coffee.” She mumbles, still baffled by what she just witnessed.
“Then, coffee it is.” Narcissa nudges her “Oh, don’t look so surprised, Miss Granger. He is from Manchester area after all.”
She looks at the woman confused
“I never heard him talk like that.”
“And it is unlikely you ever will. Only on very rare occasions, he slips into the dialect of his childhood. Now, let’s see if that coffee can aid you.” Narcissa is still talking in a soft voice, ushering her into the parlour.
- 54
- 55
- 56
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Torment *Completed*

Torment Completed