Chapter 7

A/N: Hugs and chocolate for my amazing beta, Shellsnapeluver! I also want to thank each one of you who take the time to read and review.

***

Over the next few weeks, Snape watched Miss Granger as he had been instructed to do by Dumbledore. He followed her to class, snuck around the dusty shelves of the library to keep an eye on her, and usually stared at her from beneath his lashes as they ate in the Great Hall. It was the most gut-wrenching experience he had ever known, watching the perpetual sadness eat away at such a sweet and vibrant girl. He usually Disillusioned himself so that she wouldn't notice him watching her...and it was during those times that he learned the most about Hermione Granger, or at least what others thought of her. At times he would risk exposure by leaning in closer to her to see her eyes, and it pained him to see what he found. Sadness and melancholy were inadequate to describe the hollowness he found hidden in their depths. There was a resignation that terrified him. The words she had whispered, "I'll only do it again," rang in his ears as a fearful promise. And if he ever started to doubt the seriousness of the situation, all he had to do was stick around after she left a room and listen to the gossip.

"Lavender said she was cutting herself!"

"She said she carved the word "SWOT" on her chest!"

A girl gave a snort. "On her non-existent chest? Well, at least it was the perfect word to describe her!"

The other girls sniggered.

Snape wanted to hex them all into oblivion.

***

One day, Snape saw Hermione walking with Mr. Weasley down by the lake. As usual, he Disillusioned himself and walked towards them, standing next to a nearby tree, listening to their conversation. Weasley was trying desperately to cheer her up...in his own, pathetic way.

"Hermione, I don't know why you had to do that to yourself!" Weasley chided her.

"Ronald, I don't expect you to understand," she said softly as she looked off, watching the water with great interest.

"Why do you think so badly of yourself? You're the smartest girl in school, best at everything you set your mind to do. I mean, everyone thinks you're brilliant. You know everything!"

"Yeah, that's me, Ron. I'm just a walking Encyclopedia," she said sharply.

"I don't mean it like that. You're a great person!" he said nervously.

She turned and faced him. "Ron, when you look at me, what do you see?" she asked hopefully.

"I see you...Hermione," he answered.

"And exactly who is Hermione?" she prodded.

"I dunno, Hermione. You're smart, uh, very responsible, and you're a great friend. You always have been there for Harry and me over the years. You're our mate, and we love you! So, stop this rubbish, Hermione. We don't want to lose you." The uneasiness he was feeling was apparent on his face as he tried to extricate himself from the conversation.

The chimes from the large clock tower rang, and Ron looked nervously around. "I-I got to go to Quidditch practice," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "See you in the common room later, yeah? And could you proof-read my essay for Potions?"

"Yeah, sure," she replied sadly as she looked off into the distance.

"Thanks, Hermione!" he said as he took off.

"He never even noticed," she said aloud to herself. "No one notices."

Snape noticed. He wanted to box Ron's ears for being so damn obtuse. She was so lovely. And if anyone would just give her half a glance, they would see it. Sure, the robes didn't do any of the girls any favors when it came to showing figures, but Weasley and Potter had seen her enough in her Muggle clothes to know Hermione was turning into a beautiful, young woman. He continued to watch her as she sat down in the grass; the loose hairs that had slipped out of her hair clip were now playing around her face as she continued to look at the lake. She drew her legs up to her chest and began to cry softly.

"Why do I even bother?" she whispered to herself. "Snape is right. No one cares I'm even a girl. I might as well be like a plastic Barbie doll with no anatomical bits!"

Snape continued to watch Hermione from a near-by tree, hidden from her sight. He wished he could touch her, comfort her, and tell her she was wrong. He wanted to tell her he had been a complete arse just like every other wizard who couldn't see her worth and value as a woman. For Snape, she was worth ten of any other female at this wretched school.

***

Dumbledore had a person from the Ministry send over a woman to talk with Hermione a couple times a week to discuss her "cutting." Snape learned about these meetings through his monitoring of her whereabouts. He noticed she usually left these meetings with red eyes, usually sniveling in a handkerchief. He knew better to ask Albus about the meetings. He didn't want the old coot lecturing him any more about Hermione. When he saw Hermione crying as she left her meetings, he found there was anger bubbling inside him. He thought it was absolutely ridiculous for her to go to these blasted meetings! The only problem Hermione had was that she was completely surrounded by intellectual inferiors and useless wizards who didn't have the sense God gave a kneazle in order to know they were in the presence of beauty itself! Many times he had wanted to just come out and tell her she was incredible, striking, and full of a fire that would set a man's blood aflame if she ever chose to deem him worthy of her affections. He wished he could, but he couldn't. He doubted she would even hear him now. He had done too much damage.

As time passed, he slowly saw the Hermione he had grown to adore slip away into mediocrity. She still went to the library, studied and read, but her eyes were starting to glaze over. Sometimes the book would slip from her hands and fall unnoticed onto the table as she continued to stare into nothingness. Each time he watched a book slip from her limp hands, the tears would start to fall down his face. How much longer would he have to continue to watch her deteriorate?

Snape also noticed a marked difference in class work. She was listless, preoccupied, and refused to participate. She had gone from being the most tenacious student he'd ever known to the most shiftless. She made even Longbottom seem like a genius. Most times he wished she would start shooting her hand up in class and interrupting his lectures again like she used to, in order to show off her knowledge. He couldn't take much more of this.

By the middle of the second week, he'd had enough and went to see Minerva about Hermione's frame of mind.

"Minerva, you need to have a word with your protégé, Miss Granger," he said tersely as he strode into her classroom after classes were done for the day.

"What seems to be the problem, Severus?" she asked with a sigh as she continued to write in her ledger.

"She needs to be removed from the school and if not the school, then my class. She is listless, mindless, and is seemingly uninterested with remaining in the land of the living!" he spat. He knew he was being an arse, but he couldn't have Minerva knowing he was concerned for Hermione, or worse, that he cared for her.

Minerva looked shocked. She ripped her glasses from her face. "What's happened, Severus? Is she in the infirmary?" she asked shrilly.

"No, Minerva...nothing so very serious, at least not yet. However, this coddling and pitying is not helping her! If she were a Slytherin..."

"Yes, I am quite aware of how well your methods have worked thus far, Severus," she replied scathingly. "I am sure Albus informed you that her cutting has tampered with her magical abilities. It may be some time before she will be able to perform at the level she was before. Heaven knows I've had to adjust my expectations of her and so has Filius," she said informatively.

Snape heaved an impatient sigh. "Minerva, that is not the point. She is allowing whatever anyone says as fodder for her to turn it into an insult against her. She needs a good shaking!"

Minerva placed her hands on top of her desk and stood up with an impatient sound of her own. "Severus, has it even occurred to you that perhaps Miss Granger has taken these comments to heart because she is convinced that is the reality? She is unhappy with who she is. That is the worst kind of hell! She knew she was bookish and studious, that didn't stop her from being happy before, or maybe, in the back of her mind, she was never truly happy, and now the reality has come smack into her face! She's eighteen, Severus. She's a woman now and has never had any boy look at her like she is a female," she said sadly.

"What about Victor Krum?" he asked. "That boy couldn't keep away from her!"

Minerva smiled nastily. "Oh, yes, Mr. Krum. Nothing ever happened between them when he was here. All it ever was to him was just a friendship. Miss Granger came to me in tears months later saying that she had gotten the courage to tell him how she felt about him. He wrote her back and apologized for the mistake. Seems he was told by Igor to befriend her, that she could be useful during the Tournament. He said he was so happy to find someone who wasn't following him around like a lovesick dog. He thought she was 'safe' and 'nice', and that he had a fiancee in Bulgaria. He used her, just like they all have used her."

Snape narrowed his eyes and said darkly, "I have had to live my whole life being constantly overlooked and under appreciated. Nevertheless, it did not hinder me from becoming a Potions master and a respected member in my field. I suggest Miss Granger get on with life. There are far worse things that can happen to a young witch than being unloved!" He turned sharply on his heel and strode out of Minerva's office, his robes billowing behind him.

He left Minerva's office feeling sick and exhausted. What he had said was true. When had he ever been loved? When had any woman ever seen him as a man and wanted him? He still managed to live and find purpose for himself without experiencing that kind of love. So if that's true, why won't this guilty feeling let up? he thought miserably.

***

That evening, he received a visit from Lavender Brown.

"Professor Snape?" she asked timidly as she knocked on his opened door to his classroom.

"What are you doing here, girl? It's late!" he snapped at her.

"I know. I needed to make sure I wasn't noticed. The headmaster told me that I should see you if I suspected anything strange about Hermione," she said nervously.

He was alarmed. "What has happened?" he demanded as he stood up anxiously.

"Well, she's been a bit secretive again about her body, and I saw some droplets of blood by the toilet in our dormitory. I just have a really bad feeling that she's doing it again." She swallowed and took a breath. "I spoke with Pavarti, and she said you need to get her to Madam Pomfrey...that's what the headmaster told us to do, not to confront her alone, but with you."

Snape rubbed his eyes. Of course! Albus couldn't help himself to make sure Hermione's friends knew to collect me in case she tried cutting herself again. Albus is bound and determined to make sure I'm made aware of every painful detail. Damn girl!

"Alright, then, let's go," he said slowly.

They made their way up to the common room, and Hermione was sitting at a table, looking over Ron and Harry's essays.

"Excuse me, boys," he said silkily. "Miss Granger, you need to come with me."

Hermione eyeballed him and set her face. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she snapped angrily.

His hand flashed out from nowhere, grabbing her arm, and pulling up her robe. There were fresh cut marks.

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron yelled instantaneously.

She looked at the Potions master as if she wanted to strangle him. She tried to wrench herself free, but he held on.

"You are coming with me to the infirmary." he announced.

"Why do you even care? Is this your punishment? Look after Hermione, make sure she doesn't 'off' herself?" she spat.

The other Gryffindors in the common room remained frozen in place as they watched Hermione Granger shout at Professor Snape in disbelief.

He bit his tongue and hauled her out of the room as she screamed and cursed at him. Once they were alone in the hall, he turned on her.

"Why do you insist on destroying yourself? You are supposed to be smart, not stupid!" he yelled. "You do realize that your cutting is draining away your magical powers, do you not? Is that what you want? You want to become a Squib? Why are you so hell-bent on acting like a little fool?" he hissed.

"That's right. I'm just a stupid, little fool! Although, why should you care is beyond me! I don't expect anything decent to come from you. To you, I'm hopeless. Just an 'Old Maid in training.'" Her face relaxed, her voice became soft, and her eyes hollow. "No man would be able to touch me without vomiting. Why should I want to live that life? I'm better off dead. So why don't you just walk away and let me die?" she asked calmly.

He closed his eyes and let her go. "You cannot be that thick," he sneered.

She looked at him in surprise, her eyes snapping dangerously. "What did you say?" she said angrily.

Finally! he thought excitedly. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close to him. "You idiot girl!" he seethed. "You actually believe that I meant what I said? I was only trying to regain a sense of normalcy. I'm your evil teacher who is cruel and hard. You are the insufferable know-it-all. The Dark Lord, although thwarted in his original intent, ultimately succeeded in disturbing that delicate balance. I needed you to forget I ever saw you...that I was present for any of that..." He stopped short, seemingly unable to know how to say what he meant. He realized how close he had drawn her to himself. He let go of her shoulders and grabbed her by one of her upper arms.

"Come here!" he thundered, dragging her down to the dungeons. She was terrified. She kept glancing at him, but his face was set like stone. Once inside the Potions lab, he released her by pushing her in front of him.

"Get in my office," he hissed.

A flick of his wrist opened the door, and she meekly walked in, hovering in a corner whilst he rummaged through various bottles and muttered to himself.

He turned and saw her cowering and frowned.

"Just sit down!" he snapped.

She sat in the chair across from his desk. He took his large chair and sat across from her. There were various dusty bottles in front of them.

He looked intensely into her face, and her eyes shifted from his face back to the bottles and then down to her lap.

"Look at me," he whispered.

"No," she said with a sob.

He rolled his eyes. "Why are you sniveling?" he asked harshly.

"I don't want you peeking in my head!" she said heatedly.

Aha! There is something she doesn't want me to see, and she's very nervous about it! he thought with interest.

"Miss Granger, I do not need to stare into your eyes like some second-rate Muggle hypnotist!" he sneered. "Any time I wish, I can rummage through your mind at my own pace, with or without your approval."

"That is against school rules!" she shot back angrily.

"I never said anything to the contrary, Miss Granger. I only stated a fact," he said with a twisted smile playing on his lips.

"I want you to tell me right this minute where on your body you have been cutting," he ordered.

She huffed, then took off her robe and pushed up her sleeves to reveal slash marks on the inside of both her arms. He sighed and took his wand in hand to begin healing her.

"Why do you care?" she asked in a strange tone.

He looked up at her and set his wand down on his desk. He took her small hands into his own large ones, looking at how different her hands looked when enveloped by his own. It felt right and comforting to touch her this way. He collected his thoughts and dragged his eyes from their now entwining fingers, looked up, and gazed into her eyes. It was time to tell her the truth. He had to find a way to push his fears away and be honest...even if just for her sake.

"Miss Granger...Hermione...I do not know why you have been so neglected. Perhaps when you are a bit older and the wizards you know now are more mature, they will begin to notice the lovely young woman that was in front of them all the while. So, I will continue to heal you. I feel responsible for all this mess."

She stared at him warily. He could see the disbelief and trepidation. Was she afraid he was going to hurt her again? Did she believe him or was she thinking he was mocking her? He waited for answer as he continued to hold her hands in his own. She looked down and watched as he stroked the delicate skin of her hands with his thumbs. He looked down as well, waiting for her to snatch them away from him, telling him he was an ugly, pathetic git. Then he felt something splash onto his hand. There was another. He looked up and all he could see was Hermione's bent head, her mass of curly hair tumbling around her shoulders and falling so forward their hands seemed to be curtained by it. He saw as the tears fell from her eyes and collected into their intermingled hands. Her back was beginning to shake.

Snape was speechless. He loosed one hand from her and slowly picked up his wand. He took his other hand and lifted her face to his. He wanted to kiss each tear away and rip the pain from her and swallow it. He would gladly take on all her hurt and suffering if she would only be the Hermione he had always known...the Hermione he loved.

"I'm going to heal you now, Hermione," he said softly.

She slowly offered her arms out to him for healing. He began to methodically heal each cut and gash with care and gentleness. When he finished, he took some lotion and rubbed it onto her skin. It was warm, and it tingled. He looked into her face as he slid the liquid over her skin. She began to blink her eyes, and her breath was becoming shallow. He wondered how his touch made her feel. He wanted so badly to ask her, but he couldn't. He didn't want to scare her. Her eyes flitted upwards to meet his. Her pupils were dilated in an obvious sign of desire. He watched her as she lowered her eyes to look upon his hands. She had been oblivious to the look on her face. He gently prodded her mind and saw the adoration she held dear in her young heart. He sighed inwardly. He felt a confirmation of sorts in his heart. She liked his touch, his hands on her flesh, but why him of all men? She was too good for him.

He pulled himself together and asked, "Is that all, Miss Granger?"

She lowered her head, and he saw the return of the thick tears dripping onto her lap. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Alright then, Miss Granger, where else?" he said softly.

He closed his eyes and lowered his head as she unbuttoned her shirt to reveal the top part of the word "SWOT" reemerged on her chest.

He sat back in his chair and exhaled, overwhelmed by the monster he had helped create.