Cracks in Everything

Cracks in Everything

"Would you just...uh...try...umph...a little...harder?!"

"I am trying, foolish woman," Severus gasped breathlessly. "I do not know whether deafness or short-term memory loss is your problem, but I have already told you that I am doing the best I can." Severus stopped and leaned against a wall in the hallway. Perspiration dripped down his forehead and stung his eyes, but he was altogether too spent to brush it away.

The pink-faced Healer paused as well, huffing for breath. She glared briefly at Severus. "Now, now, don't be grouchy, lam..." She broke off sharply, rolling her eyes, upon noticing his thunderous expression.

She smiled sweetly and straightened her back. "You're Calliope's own little thundercloud, aren't you, Sevvy-poo?" she cooed, the syrup of her voice laced with acid.

Severus flushed, and his eyes glittered. "My name is not 'Lambykins,' nor is it 'Sevvy-poo,' nor any of the other ridiculous monikers you seem so hell-bent on attaching to me. Despite the fact that I must endure your company, I do not welcome your familiarity, so do me the courtesy of holding your damnable tongue!"

Calliope's mouth fell open briefly. Her eyes bugged, and a purple vein strained against the skin of her forehead. She pursed her lips and stretched them into a grimacing smile. "Now, now, little fellow, be nice to Calliope. We don't want our little lambykins to get another nasty Sedating potion, do we?" she said, winking and wagging her finger.

Severus' lip curled at the corner, and he narrowed his eyes angrily. "Do not threaten me," he growled, heartily regretting that he lacked the strength to throttle her then and there.

Calliope laughed lightly. "My, my, but you are a paranoid little wizard! Calliope wouldn't threaten her lambykins. I'm just remindin' you that I'm tryin' to help you. And right now, you need all the help you can get," she simpered.

Rage surged within him, its power making him tremble. It sang through his veins, demanding release that his body could not afford to give. His shaking hands formed useless fists. "Do not call me names!" he roared.

"That isn't such an unreasonable request."

Slowly and painfully, Severus turned towards the source of the quiet voice and was immediately torn between delight and mortification. Hermione Granger stood, solemn and pale, at the entrance to the ward. The dim light clung to her, creating an amber nimbus of her curls.

"Well, now, Miss Granger," Calliope began, "he's really just takin' this all too personally. It's just terms of affection, see."

The Granger girl frowned. "It doesn't seem very affectionate to call someone a name they find insulting."

Severus flinched. Humiliating enough was the fact that Miss Granger had happened upon him clad in the flimsy hospital gown. That she defended him as he cringed against the wall was even worse. Something about the situation seemed entirely too familiar.

Calliope's smile stretched tighter across her face. "Well, I'm tryin' to be friendly with the bloke, but he's fighting me all the time. I'm sure you know how he is," she laughed.

"I wouldn't know, honestly," Miss Granger replied. Her frown deepened. "I've never tried speaking to him as if he were a child." There was an uncharacteristic hoarseness in her voice.

The Healer's carefully arranged smile quivered, and for mere seconds, her eyes shone with venomous anger. She composed herself, though, and answered resignedly, "I suppose it's too much to ask for him to respect me the way he does the other Healers."

Miss Granger looked at Calliope thoughtfully. "Everyone wants to be respected. Professor Snape certainly deserves our respect for all he did in the war," she said gently.

The statement perplexed Severus. Although he remembered very little of the war, he certainly felt its residue, and the rage, distrust, and self-loathing that plagued him were incongruent with heroism. His mind stumbled over the disjointed snapshots of memory until he noticed the unusual interaction between Miss Granger and Calliope Millar.

The two women faced each other stonily. Miss Granger seemed to gaze intently just over Healer Millar's head while Healer Millar stared back warily.

"Hold still, Healer Millar," Miss Granger said in cautious tones. She walked towards Calliope with carefully measured steps, her gaze still fixed on something just over the Healer's head. "I think I see something in your hair."

Severus did not understand the import of Miss Granger's statement, but the flicker of anxiety in Calliope's eyes indicated its significance. He watched bemusedly as Miss Granger reached out and picked through Calliope's tight, iron-grey curls.

"I thought," said Miss Granger, "that I saw a bug in your hair."

The Healer shifted slightly. "A bug?" she laughed incredulously. "Merlin, Miss Granger, bugs in St. Mungo's?"

Miss Granger continued to sift through Healer Millar's hair. "A beetle, to be precise." She lowered her hand and looked directly into her eyes. "A very rare, illegal beetle."

"Well, now I've heard everything!" Healer Millar chortled, although she blanched appreciably. "Illegal beetles!"

Miss Granger smiled politely. "Oh, yes. Illegal. There is a particular species of beetle that causes serious damage everywhere it goes. And I've recently discovered that one such beetle has been on this ward."

Healer Millar inched away from Miss Granger slowly. "H... Here? On this ward?" she asked weakly.

"This very ward," Miss Granger replied. "Do be aware, won't you? Such a beetle could harm one of your patients, and I know how seriously you take your vocation. Healing is such a noble profession."

Severus did not miss the ghost of a smirk that played at the corner of the girl's mouth. He wondered at the apparent ease with which the demure Miss Granger menaced the witch, but he was disinclined to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The Healer fidgeted. "Goodness, look at the time!" she croaked with disingenuous cheer. "I had better get you back to your bed, er, ah, Professor Snape!"

She started towards him, but Miss Granger stepped between him and the advancing Healer. "Thanks, Healer Millar. But if it's all right with you, I can see Professor Snape back."

Severus noted the look of relief that washed over the Healer's beleaguered face. "Thank you, dear. Yes, yes, if you're quite sure, that'd be lovely," she said, even as she scurried away.

Miss Granger turned to him, smiling, when they were finally alone. "Well," she said softly, "shall we walk back to your bed?"

"We won't be walking anywhere," he said bitterly. "Despite what Healer Millar thinks, I can barely walk at all."

The blood rose in Miss Granger's face. "Healer Millar is an ignorant old cow," she said. "We'll get you back to bed. Here, lean on me."

Something about the girl's indignation warmed him. He draped his arm over her shoulders and allowed her to partially support him, leaning against the wall to keep his weight from overpowering her.

Severus' bed was mere meters from the corridor, a distance a man with two functional legs could have cleared in less than a minute. As it was, though, his left leg was weak and prone to tremors, while his right leg barely moved at all. He felt like a monster from some old, Muggle movie, grotesquely dragging his leg behind him. He winced as he recalled his father's words.

"He's a bad seed, Eileen. I'm telling you, the kid's some kind of goddamn monster."

He looked down at Miss Granger, at the film of sweat coating her face, and winced again. He imagined how he must appear to her, how weak and wretched she must find him. The rage and despair that swelled within him were almost strong enough to make him vomit.

He hated her.

He hated her for saving him when he clearly should have died. He hated her for seeing him as he was now, as helpless as a newborn kitten...a malformed kitten someone should have drowned before its eyes had ever opened. He hated her for her youth, and her wholeness, and her encouragement, and her strength. But most of all, he hated her for the yearning he felt for her presence, a yearning that swallowed up his instinct to preserve his pride.

He silently cursed both of them with every tedious step down the corridor. At last he fell upon his bed, thankful that the grueling parade was finished. As he recovered his breath, he observed Miss Granger carefully.

She had been unusually quiet ever since she had appeared on the ward. She was paler than normal, and her brown eyes were underscored by purple half-circles. Severus would have bet that she had been crying before she arrived, although he could see no signs of tears.

His eyes flickered over the neckline of her filmy robes, searching for the pink scar he had seen before. To his dismay, it had disappeared. He wondered if she had used some sort of spell or charmed product to conceal it. All in all, she seemed to have taken greater care with her appearance than usual.

"It was quite thoughtful of you to dress up for the evening's entertainment," he said sourly.

The hurt, startled look he saw on her face both shocked and thrilled him. He felt a guilty lurch in his stomach as he continued. "Tell me, Miss Granger, to what do I owe the honor of your present finery?"

She crossed her arms self-consciously and lowered her eyes. "I had a party to go to today," she murmured.

"A party," he sneered. "Why are you here when there are festivities to attend?" Something inside him screamed at him to stop, that he didn't want her to answer.

"I don't... I mean I... I wanted to be here," she whispered, and he heard the tears catching in her voice.

"You wanted to be here, hmm? Now, why would you want to be here, tending a sick man, a crippled man with no friends, when you obviously had better places to be?" he jabbed. "Did you come to do your good deed for the day, Miss Granger? You should know that there are others on this ward who deserve your charity far more than I."

She hugged herself more tightly and bit her lip. The tears glistened in the corners of her eyes, and he was torn between guilt and satisfaction.

"It's not like that, sir. It's not charity. I just wanted to be here; I wanted to see you," she said cautiously.

"You've seen me. Now, you may leave," he spat. His entire body became alert at the thought of her leaving. He didn't want her to leave, not really. He wanted her to stay and talk to him, talk to him about anything at all, to fuss over him and fetch his water and see to his comfort. Such comfort bore a heavy price, though, and his desire for it only increased the humiliation he had to endure to have it.

The tears slid down her cheeks. "Please don't make me go. I don't want to be at that party. I want to be here. I don't want to go anywhere else," she pleaded. "It's not for you, it's for me... I don't know why, I just need to be here."

Severus leaned back against his pillows, stunned into silence. He had not expected this. Her simple proclamation lanced his bitterness, leaving him weary as it drained away. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to take her in his arms and hold her against his chest.

She shifted uncomfortably as they looked at each other. One hand clenched and unclenched, and she brought it to her mouth absentmindedly.

A nail-biter, he thought. She realized what she was doing and hurriedly moved her hand away from her lips. Something on her finger caught the light and made it dance for a moment.

Severus frowned. "Come here, Miss Granger," he said roughly. She shuffled towards him like a small child awaiting punishment, and once again he wondered what sort of relationship they'd had prior to his convalescence. "Give me your hand," he directed.

She grimaced as if he had asked her to eat something unpalatable. She fisted her hand and pulled it closer to herself, and he could tell she was considering defying him. Finally, reluctantly, she assented.

He took her hand in his, examining the little diamond curiously. It felt as if a rock were lodged in his throat, a rock that had no right to be there at all. He traced the band delicately with his finger. He remembered how she had laced her fingers through his the day before and how bereft he had felt this morning when there were no cheerful brown eyes, no gentle hands to soothe him when he had awakened from his nightmares.

Disgusted, he dropped her hand. "Engaged, are you, Miss Granger?" he asked wearily.

She looked down and nodded.

"For how long?"

"Since last night," she choked. She bowed her head, and her tears dripped upon the sterile, white blanket.

He squinted, as if doing so would help him see her better. "Forgive my saying so, Miss Granger, but are engagements not usually regarded as happy occasions?" he asked.

"I suppose," she answered weakly.

"Then why aren't you at your party, grinning stupidly and flaunting that trifle on your finger for all and sundry to see?" he asked peevishly. She shrugged.

"The days of arranged marriages are over, Miss Granger, unless something has changed since I've been... indisposed," he said feebly "Why marry when you are so obviously miserable?"

"It's complicated," she said defensively.

He sighed. "Life generally is," he muttered. She said nothing, just stood with her arms hanging by her side.

"Your fiancé must be an extraordinarily generous man to allow you to slip away to a sick man's bedside less than twenty-four hours after your engagement," he prodded.

Her face blossomed crimson. "We fought," she murmured.

"So soon? This is surely some sort of record," he said wryly. It occurred to him then to wonder whom it was she was marrying. Perhaps the man's identity would spark some vital memory for Severus, some link that would connect his present dealings with Miss Granger to the past.

"Do I know him?" he asked.

She almost smiled as she nodded.

"Were he and I friends?" he inquired.

"Not at all," she said, and her almost-smile expanded just a bit.

His stomach gave a tiny flip, and he felt the blood drain from his face. Had Miss Granger herself engendered an animosity between him and her fiancé? She had said that she had been his student. He faintly remembered teaching at Hogwarts, and he could not imagine entertaining romantic thoughts about a student. Admittedly, though, trying to put his memories together was rather like trying to rebuild a tea cup that had been smashed in a ship wreck; retrieving the pieces from the shifting waves was difficult enough, and fitting them together properly more difficult yet.

His mind whirled as he considered the unsettling possibilities. Would he have pursued a student? Would he have sunk so low? Alternately, had she developed some sort of schoolgirl crush on him? Perhaps her presence attested to some sort of obsession she had with him. She had told him that there had been no romance between them; she had told him to think of her as his friend. Still, that did not rule out the possibility that she had indulged an unhealthy affection for him. Quite possibly, she was only here to insinuate...or avenge...herself upon him in his weakness...

She interrupted his reverie, seeming to have interpreted his distress. "My... fiancé was one of your students as well. You had little patience for him, and he did not care for you. For that matter, you had little patience with me," she said shortly.

He peered at her closely one more time. She had about her an air of defeat, and he was ashamed of the way he had interrogated her. He had no desire to torment her further.

"I found your conversation with Healer Millar quite intriguing," he said, changing the subject.

She looked up sharply, thrusting her chin out sharply and crossing her arms in a pose of defiance. "Healer Millar..."

"...Is an ignorant old cow," Severus finished. "We've established that."

"I was only reminding Healer Millar that she has responsibilities and that she shouldn't waste so much time annoying you," she said primly.

Severus snorted. "I daresay that witch would find a way to annoy me if she were restricted to merely breathing in my presence. I enjoyed seeing you bait her so neatly."

Miss Granger's misty half-smile warmed him, and he was overcome with an unexpected zeal to coax the laughter out of her. He could have made it his own desperate, personal quest had he not immediately remembered the fundamental inequity of their... relationship.

He scowled. Nothing would be gained from chasing after a young woman's smiles, particularly a young woman wearing another man's ring. Where had he learned that particular lesson?

Miss Granger looked at him worriedly and sat down on the bed, just the way she had the day before. She placed her hand over his. "Are you OK, sir?" she asked timidly.

He snatched his hand away from hers. "I'm fine," he snapped.

Her face, which had so recently begun to smile, fell dismally. He bowed his head, allowing his hair to obscure his face. He could feel Miss Granger's eyes searching him, trying to understand how she had offended him, before she finally looked away.

"Professor..." she began haltingly. Severus was relieved when a fresh-faced Healer peeked around the curtain and announced the end of visiting hours.

Miss Granger stood and looked at him beseechingly.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," he said heavily. "Congratulations on your engagement."

"Thank you, sir," she muttered and walked away.

Severus hated the giddy ascents and rapid plunges he experienced in Miss Granger's presence. As soon as he resolved to give himself over to the comfort she offered, he remembered that he was a monster, and a rather pitiful monster at that. He was earth-bound, fated to misery. She belonged to a completely different realm.

He had come to think of her as his only friend, but that wasn't exactly the truth. She had just said that he'd had little patience for her... before. Before that snake, before his long, fitful slumber, what had he been? All he had were his dreams, dreams of fangs and fire, and endless gauntlets to stumble through. He remembered mere fragments of his childhood, and he burned with shame for the creature he had been even then.

No, the serpent had not heralded the fall of Severus Snape's Eden. He had not been born into innocence. Original Sin, his Muggle grandmother had called it.

Hermione Granger, though...she was a living benediction. He knew she had suffered. The evidence was inscribed on her neck, beneath whatever glamours she had used to disguise it. Still, she was intact and upright, whereas he was fractured and warped. She, with her indestructible soul, deserved Eden, whatever pieces of it still existed.

Something heavy and immovable settled in Severus' chest. He knew that he had encountered such a soul before, and though he couldn't remember how, he knew without a doubt that he had seen to its destruction.

Orange flames danced wickedly, and some tortured beast howled in terror and pain. Severus wanted to find it and set it free, but he had to get away...

Someone was attacking him from behind, but he threw off the hexes with ease. Then he heard the earsplitting voice. "Coward!" it cried.

He turned to face his attacker.

A boy, no more than seventeen, stood snarling before him. "Coward!" the young man cried again.

"Don't call me that!" Severus howled.

"Coward!"

The scream that wrenched itself from Severus' gut was pure, primal wrath.

Suddenly, there was an entire chorus of voices. He picked out his father's wheezy, drunken voice and a familiar, drawling voice that curdled his blood.

"Coward! Coward!" they taunted. The hexes that flew from Severus' wand fell flat once they reached their targets, and the voices laughed and jeered louder.

Something fearsome screeched through the air, and he fled, the taunts of his tormentors ringing in his ears.

He awoke to a darkened room.

"Shh," someone soothed, and they placed a cool hand on his forehead.

"Miss Granger?" he barked in surprise.

"Shh. I had to sneak back in. Don't worry, I'm here now," Miss Granger murmured comfortingly.

She climbed into the bed and lay alongside him, and he stared in amazement as she brushed his hair away from his eyes. She placed her lips against his brow chastely.

"Why are you here?" he asked shakily.

"I need a place where I can be broken," she said sorrowfully, although a smile tempted her lips.

"You've come to the right place," he said acerbically.

"I know," she answered.

"There are few enough places to be whole."

"True," she said, "but you can be whole with me. We'll call it an even exchange for my brokenness." She wordlessly, wandlessly illuminated the candles beside his bed, and he could see her properly. Her eyes were dilated with longing.

"Do you want to see me?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes," he answered. "I want to see all of you."

Her eyes misted over with nervous relief. She unhooked the clasp of her robes, allowing them to fall away and vanish. She knelt nakedly on the bed beside him.

"All of you," he insisted, placing his fingertips on her throat. She slowly raised her wand and pointed it at herself.

The glamour shimmered as it dissolved, and he saw the thin, pink line again. He placed his lips against the sacred scar, kissing it with reverent passion. She gasped in his arms.

He hungered for the taste of her, for the taste of something so whole that it begged to be broken. He sucked and nipped at her neck as she moaned and ground against him. The salt of her skin rejuvenated him, and he traced the contours of her collarbone and her sternum before running his tongue along the undersides of her breasts.

She arched her back, thrusting her small, perfect breasts towards him. Unable to resist, he took one rose-hued nipple into his mouth. He plied it with his tongue, relishing its taste. He sucked greedily, pulling most of her breast deep into his mouth.

He could not tell how much time passed as he suckled contentedly.

"Severus," she gasped gently, pulling him away gently, "I need you. All of you."

He knew he should tell her to leave. He should end things now before they went any further and he destroyed her...or she destroyed him.

He could not do it. He could not fix his resolve when every part of him screamed for the redemption he knew he would find in her touch.

He closed his eyes and lay expectantly as she peeled back his blankets and undressed him. He was ashamed of his nakedness. She would surely flee in revulsion once she saw the catalogue of scars his body had become.

He felt the cool air on his skin and heard her breath hitch. He opened his eyes to find her peering lovingly at him.

She traced the scar that ran diagonally across his chest, traced it adoringly with the tips of her fingers. She then touched each of his scars in turn, and he felt that they would miraculously disappear beneath her fingers.

She leaned close to him and kissed him lightly upon the lips. The warmth of her body soaked into his skin, and he felt safer than he had ever felt before. She opened her mouth to him. It was the kiss of life; it restored his body and renewed his soul. She tasted sweet and warm, and he felt that his breath would cease if she ever stopped kissing him.

She drew away and looked at him longingly. "Let me break, Severus," she begged tearfully.

He nodded, and she straddled him. They rocked together, and she wept with the ecstasy of their union, wept for both of them. Her eyes glazed over, and she fell forward.

"Severus," she sobbed. "Severus, Oh, Severus, I'm breaking. I'm breaking, oh my God, I'm breaking."

He held her tightly to him as she cried. He knew suddenly that she was not only Hermione Granger; she was every person he had ever loved and broken. She, who was everyone, was breaking herself, willingly, and she was going to give him all of the pieces so he could make himself whole.

Severus woke again, disappointed to find himself clothed and alone. He caught his breath and peered wistfully through the half-darkness of the ward. He could not decide which was harder: sleeping through the nightmares or waking from the pleasant dreams. He snorted bitterly. His enemies (and he was certain he had many) could rest easily; Severus Snape's own mind would torment him tirelessly.

A/N: I own nothing, no money is made... blah, blah, blah....

Many thanks to the administrators, who have made posting here so enjoyable. And as always, thanks to those who have read and reviewed this story so far. Your encouragement has been wonderful, and I sincerely appreciate it.