Chapter Six: Healing

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Chapter Six: Healing

Under the influence of the potions and the illness, Hermione slept through the next five days, waking only when given doses of potion and when she needed her physical needs attended to. Poppy ensured she remained hydrated, using a special spell to transfer fluids directly into her stomach, which she taught Severus to use during the night. His dedication to Hermione's care was complete, coming as soon as he could after dinner and leaving only when he was required to turn up for breakfast in the Great Hall. He provided her with fluids and potions, changed her nightwear and sheets, and even sponged her down every night as if he had been a trained mediwizard himself. He handled the intimacy of her care with respect and tenderness, but Poppy did wonder how her patient would feel when she found out all he had done for her. However, the way the young woman held tightly to Severus during the brief occasions she was awake gave her confidence that a little future embarrassment was a small price to pay for the security she obviously felt in his care. Her friends were only allowed to visit during the day, which ensured they never discovered the identity of her nighttime caregiver.

Severus, however, was not doing so well. The interrupted nights and uncomfortable bed had taken their toll on his mood and energy during the day. Both professors and students had noticed his shorter-than-usual temper, and he looked a wreck. Rumours ran rife, everyone having an opinion on the cause of Snape's deterioration. A fifth-year Hufflepuff swore he had seen him running around the grounds one night wearing his Death Eater regalia. Lavender Brown, in an unusual fit of perspicacity, stated that he was no doubt suffering from unrequited love, which caused more than a few sniggers in Potions class. Harry alone was fairly sure Snape was looking worse for wear for a more noble reason, having spotted him entering and leaving the hospital wing more than once over the last few days. A bottle of familiar, red ink left on Hermione's bedside table and some long, black hairs on her coverlet were evidence enough, if one knew what to look for. Proof of a devotion far surpassing simple lust. That was enough to put Harry firmly in Snape's corner, whether he was invited or not.

Severus was grading essays yet again. Each time he picked up a new stack, he berated himself for his lack of self-control when doling out homework. Every assignment he issued seemed to be repaid thirty-fold, in untidy, misspelled, poorly researched works of disinterested, imbecilic students. He was exaggerating, of course. The Ravenclaws usually produced something reasonably coherent, and even some of the other houses' students could rise to the occasion at times. But, without the pleasure of the lengthy, but neatly written, cogent, intelligent work of his favourite witch, the rest seemed to coalesce into one unmitigated disaster of ink and parchment. He sighed and rested his head on his desk, just for a moment.

"Severus? What's wrong?" A weak but very welcome voice issued from the bed beside him.

He lifted his head and turned to his now wide-awake patient. Smirking, he said, "Well, some of us have had to work while others have been sleeping the days away. How are you feeling, love?"

Love.

She smiled and replied, "Weak... tired... hungry."

"Hungry is good. I'll get some food sent up immediately." He was about to dash off to summon a house-elf when she caught his sleeve.

"No. Wait a moment. What are you doing here? What would Madam Pomfrey think? How long have I...?"

"Shhh. Do not worry. Poppy knows everything. Well, not everything, but she knows how I feel about you. She has been a true friend, allowing me to stay here at night and care for you, keeping others away for the last five days while you have been so ill," he explained.

"How you feel about me." She chewed her lower lip, picking up on the most important information he had offered. "I don't even know how you feel about me." Hope, fierce and bright, shone in her eyes.

His answer was in the way he kneeled beside the bed, took her face in his hands, and soothed her trepidation with a tender kiss. "Hermione, I love you. I feel... I want... Damn! Why is this so hard to put into words?" The slight tremor in his hands betrayed his fear. Admitting his feelings to himself had been difficult. Displaying them in front of Poppy had been nerve-racking. But, declaring them to the woman who held his heart hostage was downright terrifying.

She silenced him with a finger pressed to his lips. "Hush. I don't expect flowery declarations from you, Severus. Any of those and I would be asking Madam Pomfrey to check you for Polyjuice."

"I only hope I can live up to your expectations." His head bowed, allowing his hair to shield his vulnerability from the woman who had the power to unmake him.

Impatiently, she brushed his hair to one side. "Look at me, Severus Snape," she insisted. "Merlin knows I discovered your secret pastime by accident. I returned after the first morning out of sheer curiosity and again, despite myself, I was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. The day you bared yourself before me, then walked off as if it were nothing, intrigued me, although I admit the sight of your body lit a fire within me that nothing seemed to quench. After that, I could no more keep away than I could stop breathing; you became my lifeline in this crazy post-war frenzy of forced cheerfulness. You did not ask anything of me and accepted my presence without need for explanation. Our times in the library only reinforced my feelings for you. The other morning... was incredible. I love you too, and you could never fail to meet my expectations – you have surpassed them so many times already." She drew him down to lie beside her, wrapping him tightly in her arms.

She loves me. She loves ME. SHE LOVES ME. A glistening drop of relief ran unchecked down his cheek as he nestled into her protective embrace.

Thus, they slumbered together in a cocoon of warmth and tenderness for the first night of many as she convalesced, each healing in more ways than they knew.

The following weekend, the idyll was over. Hermione was well enough to be discharged.

"I'm going to miss this," Hermione murmured as she held tightly to Severus once she had gathered up her possessions.

"Hmm. As will I."

"Severus, what now?" she asked, face hidden in the wool of his robes. "How can we be together, now I have to return to my own room? You must know I want..." Embarrassment tied her tongue as he drew her away from his body to meet her eyes.

"You want what, exactly, my love?" he asked gently, trying to ignore the uncomfortable tightness in his trousers developing as he imagined all she could mean.

"I want you." She gathered her courage and brushed her hand over his now obvious arousal. "I want you in bed, naked. I want to touch all that I have seen. I want to make love with you. I want to feel your body inside mine. I want..." She smirked as he blushed and shifted uncomfortably. "What's the matter, do you have a little problem?" she inquired innocently.

"Not so much of the little, now," he retorted. "And do you think you can lower those particular expectations a little? This old man may wear out just at the thought." He groaned as she pushed him back down onto the bed, straddled his lap, and proceeded to ensure that his burgeoning erection was not about to dissipate.

"Oh, I think this old man has a lot of potential," she murmured seductively as he lifted her off his body and adjusted his clothes delicately.

"But not here, my dear. Poppy could walk in any moment," he admonished, knowing he would feel frustrated all day, or at least until he had the opportunity to relieve the fire she had ignited. "I shall work out how we can be together. How do you feel about earning a month of detentions? Now, Hermione... there is no need for violence... I was only joking! I'm sure I can think of something by the end of the week."

"The end of the week? You had better be bloody good in bed to make it worth waiting that long, Severus Snape!" she sighed as she drew him closer for another deep kiss.

***

Soon after Hermione had returned to her room, she heard a soft knock on the door. Opening it, she was surprised to find Harry looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"What's wrong, Harry?" she asked, worried that something had happened between him and Ginny.

"Er... Can I talk to you about something?" he replied, glancing around anxiously.

"Sure, Harry. Anything. What do you want to talk about?" She led him to the sofa and sat beside him.

"Snape," he stated baldly.

"Oh."

"Listen, Hermione. I know there is something going on between you two. I saw the way he reacted when you became ill. I also saw his things half hidden by your bed in the hospital wing. He has been there every night, hasn't he?" He took her hand as she shook her head in attempted denial. "It's OK. I get it. I've seen the way he looks at you. He's got it bad."

"Oh, Harry," she sighed in relief.

"Now, do you think you can tell me how this all started?" Harry asked gently.

Hermione spent the next half hour explaining to her best friend how she had ended up head over heels in love with their Potions professor, with judicious editing of certain, more intimate, details. Being able to talk openly about the last two months was liberating indeed. She even told him that she planned to take the relationship to the next stage as soon as possible.

"So, if he can work out a plan, you will really go and shag Snape next weekend?" Harry was incredulous. "Are you sure about this?"

She simply smiled and nodded.

"But he is your teacher. Is that not against some law, or school rules, or something?"

"That's the crazy thing, Harry. I remember reading in Hogwarts, a History once, that there have been several precedents set over the last thousand years when professors and students have formed a relationship. It is not like the Muggle world here. Magical folk live much longer, larger age differences are more accepted, and Veritaserum can prove any coercion or other non-consensual relationship, which would send the guilty party directly to Azkaban. No mere slap on the hand as often happens with Muggles. As long as the relationship is mutually consensual and both parties are of age, there is no law against it."

"Won't it affect your grades?"

"He will need to have my class-work graded by someone else, Slughorn perhaps. The N.E.W.Ts are set by independent examiners, so no problem there."

"Lucky you. You are bound to get better grades from Slughorn than Snape, even if you are shagging him! So, if it not against any rules, why the need to sneak around?" Harry asked, still confused.

"It's Severus Snape, Harry. He is not exactly popular, even now. Can you imagine the ruckus it would cause if he was openly having a relationship with anybody, especially a student? And N.E.W.Ts are coming up; it's not fair on anyone to create a scene just now. We would rather be discreet. He will have to tell the headmistress, though." She chuckled at the expected look of horror on the older woman's face.

"Oh, to be in her office with my Invisibility cloak. Severus, you are planning to do WHAT...? TO WHOM?" Harry's impersonation of Minerva McGonagall's Scottish burr had them both in fits of laughter. Once they had recovered somewhat, Harry added, "You will need help. Someone has to be around to cover for you – both of you," he asserted. "Snape may not approve, but he will just have to get over himself."

"You can't tell anyone, Harry. It must remain a secret until the end of the year. It's too complicated for anyone else to understand, especially Ron. I just know he is not going to be as forgiving as you have been."

"It's all right, Hermione. Telling Ron is definitely your job. I'm not that reckless!" After a final hug, Harry left to head for the Great Hall for lunch.

***

Working alone in the library that evening, Hermione noticed Madam Pince frequently glancing up at her from the desk at which she was working. Finally, the older witch rose and approached Hermione's table.

"May I speak with you for a moment, Miss Granger?" she asked.

"Of course, Madam Pince. Is there something I can assist you with?" Hermione replied politely.

"Actually, there is something that I may be able to assist you with." The librarian's face softened in a rare smile. "You students think of me as a dried-up, old witch with no sense of humour or romance. Just because I do not tolerate shenanigans in my library does not mean I am completely heartless. I have had my own grand passion in my day. I remember the feeling still. I watch, I listen, and I notice things that others miss. You and Severus, for example."

"Me and Sever... Professor Snape?" Hermione was stunned. Was there anyone in this bloody castle who hadn't noticed?

"Yes. You and Severus Snape. I see you sitting there most evenings pretending you are not aware of each other, passing notes, and sharing books. Did you think I would not notice you returning books issued to him, and vice versa? Rather reminds me of a certain headmistress and her Transfiguration professor back when I was newly appointed."

Hermione's quick mental calculations could only lead to one conclusion. "You mean... Professors McGonagall... and... Dumbledore?" The implications floored her.

"Indeed. The number of times I had to shoo them out of the Restricted Section... Pity it didn't last, but he loved her as well as he could under the circumstances." Irma Pince smiled as she reminisced. "When he realised it wasn't witches he preferred she was devastated. But better then than later, I always thought."

"Are you saying Dumbledore was gay?" Hermione asked, astounded at the revelation.

"Come now, Miss Granger. Did you really think any straight wizard would wear purple, spangled robes? Albus was unique in many ways, but his dress sense was not mere eccentricity."

"So, if Professor McGonagall had a relationship with her teacher in seventh year, she can hardly criticise Severus and myself for the same, can she?"

"My point exactly, Miss Granger... Hermione. I have never seen Severus as content as he has been in the last two months. It would make this dried-up, old witch very happy indeed to see the two of you make a life together." She dabbed at her suddenly moist eyes with a handkerchief.

"Thank you, Madam Pince. And I for one have never thought of you as dried-up."

"I know. You have always treated me, and my books, with respect. That is one reason why I felt the need to speak with you this evening." The librarian smiled and returned to her work, leaving Hermione to gather her things, lost in thoughts of the future.

***

A/N: This story is dedicated to the esteemed leader of F.A.R.T, Robbi, whose encouragement, nay, nagging, turned this story from a vague idea to an actuality. However, any expressions of emotion emanating from Severus Snape are entirely my idea. She made me clarify that. Of course, my dear friend, ladyinthecloak, bossed the commas into submission and tidied up any mistakes. Thanks, girls!