The Calm Before

A/N: Please note: this chapter includes a scene depicting self-harm. It is not gratuitous and is relevant to the story. However, I have no wish to upset anyone, so if this is too close to home or too distressing, please skip this chapter. Thanks.

Severus observed Hermione closely across his small kitchen table. She was sitting there, swamped in some of his own clothing that he had transfigured badly to fit her. He had misjudged just how slight her frame actually was, and she had rolled up the sleeves of the jumper and the legs of the jeans. But at least they covered her and provided warmth.

She was eating after a fashion, her fork dipping into the mashed potato on her plate and finding its way shakily to her mouth, where she held it until it melted and she was able to swallow with almost no effort.

Severus stood, and she jumped, not expecting him to move, her eyes darting up to him, her body flinching slightly.

‘Relax, Miss Granger. I am getting you some milk,’ he murmured quietly. He moved fluidly to his refrigerator and took out an ordinary carton of semi-skimmed milk, pouring it out into a tall glass. He placed this in front of Hermione, and she eyed it narrowly.

‘I am aware that you would prefer something stronger,’ he muttered, ‘but you need the protein. Drink it.’

Hermione raised her eyes to him meekly and did as he told her, drinking the milk and trying hard no to gag.

‘Slowly, Miss Granger,’ Severus said softly, ‘slowly.’

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes passionless. Severus wondered what she was thinking. Their earlier conversation had come to nothing, and she hadn’t spoken to him since asking her last question. Making her some food had been a welcome distraction, but he was aware they were both avoiding the inevitable. This quiet impasse couldn’t last, and he was bracing himself.

Severus watched as Hermione set the milk down in front of her. She ran her finger along the side of the glass, leaving tracks in the condensation. She was biting her lower lip, and he recognised the old Hermione in this unconscious gesture. For some reason, this touched him deeply, and he wondered where things had gone wrong for her. His heart was being wrenched as he observed her, and he desperately wished he could stride across the gulf that separated them and reach her. He wondered for a brief moment whether he should have taken her straight to St Mungo’s and left her in the hands of the experts. But that would have raised even more questions that he was unwilling to answer. His reverie was broken when she spoke, and he was surprised at how clear her voice was.

‘Why did you bring me here?’ she asked, looking up at him.

‘You needed help. There was no one else,’ he murmured.

‘Ha!’ she laughed, her eyes hardening, ‘My life in a nutshell.’

‘Explain?’ he asked gently.

Hermione stared at him.

‘Why?’ she asked. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table, pushing away the uneaten food as she fixed her gaze on his face.

Severus looked at her, not fully understanding the question and not really knowing how to answer.

‘You need help, Miss Granger,’ Severus stated.

‘Don’t we all. Call me Hermione, Professor… I’m twenty-three, not twelve, and I don’t need to be treated like a child. I am no one’s child,’ she snapped at him.

Severus recoiled slightly and sat back in his chair. Hermione’s eyes had never left his face, and he was feeling out of his depth suddenly. Perhaps this was beyond his understanding.

Hermione started to get agitated and pulled the sleeves of the sweater over her clenched fists, rubbing her arms up and down as she fidgeted in her chair.

‘What is the problem, Hermione?’ Severus asked her softly.

‘I need a drink,’ she muttered, staring with disgust at the half-empty glass of milk on the table.

‘I will get you another potion. Wait here. I will be back momentarily,’ Severus said as he pushed the chair from the table and walked from the room swiftly.

Hermione’s eyes followed him and glinted as the door closed behind him.

*******

When Severus walked back into the kitchen, his eyes were immediately drawn to Hermione. Her head was lolled against the back of the kitchen chair, her eyes closed and her breathing even. He stepped over to her, and his breath hitched in his throat as he caught sight of her exposed forearm and the blood dripping slowly down it. In her left hand, Hermione was holding a sharp kitchen knife.

‘What have you done!’ he shouted at her, grabbing the knife and throwing it across the room as he lifted her other arm to stem the blood flow.

‘It’s just a cut,’ she said quietly, her eyes staring at him blankly.

‘Are you trying to kill yourself?’ he demanded, his face stern, a pulse beating hard in his throat.

‘No, of course not.’ Hermione pulled her arm away from his grasp and watched as the blood started to congeal in the small slice mark on her arm.

Severus stared at her and ran his hands through his hair. He was at a total loss and had no idea what to do with her. This situation was beyond him and yet he needed to do something. He wanted to – no, he needed to – help her. He sat down in the other chair and looked at her.

‘Why did you cut yourself?’ he asked her sadly.

‘It helps,’ she said softly. ‘It takes the pain away.’ She raised her eyes to his, and Severus saw how much she wanted him to understand. He sighed deeply and handed her the calming draught.

‘It’s getting late. I think perhaps we should try and sleep,’ Severus murmured as he stood again. He needed space and time to think.

Hermione drank the potion down and closed her eyes a little.

‘Sleep would be good. I haven’t slept properly for a long time,’ she replied, giving him a half smile. She tried to stand, her legs a little wobbly.

Severus walked over to her and offered her his arm.

‘Lean on me. I do not wish to for you to fall and hurt yourself. It would be a waste of the pain potion,’ he stated flatly.

Hermione looked up at him and sneered a little.

‘Naturally,’ she muttered, and Severus wondered when she had become so bitter.

He walked her up the stairs to his own bedroom and helped her to climb onto the high mattress.

‘I will provide you with a shirt to sleep in. I will sleep in the chair; I would prefer to be here when you wake.’ Severus spoke quietly as he pulled the dark velvet curtains across. He walked to a chest of drawers and pulled out a white shirt.

‘Here. I will give you time to change.’ He nodded at her a little and stepped outside the room.

While he waited, Severus paced the landing, running over events in his head. He wondered briefly what would have happened to her had he not been following her, and he shook his head to shake the image of the previous night away. After a few moments, he knocked on the bedroom door and entered to find Hermione curled up in his bed with the covers pulled around her tightly.

‘Are you comfortable?’ he asked her.

‘Very. Thank you, sir,’ she murmured, ‘for looking after me.’

Severus felt a lump form in his throat as he looked down at her childlike frame, her eyes wide as she stared at him, her face gaunt.

‘You are welcome. And please, call me Severus. I am no longer your teacher, nor am I a professor. It has been some years since I have taught at Hogwarts,’ he said.

Severus pulled up two chairs and settled himself into them, Summoning a spare blanket from the end of his bed and covering himself with it.

‘Severus?’ Hermione whispered softly.

‘Yes?’ he answered her.

‘Will you tell me tomorrow what happened? Please?’ Her voice was light, and he had to strain to hear her as sleep drifted over them both.

‘Mmmm. If you wish,’ he replied.