Moonlight & Nightshade Part II

Thank you DelilahKelley!

This chapter is a continuation of the previous chapter, just so things are clear. :)

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****** Continue Flashback...******

Severus awoke to the sound of hysterical sobbing. The first thought that came to mind was, How am I still alive? The second was that his left shoulder and back were hurting mercilessly. He heard himself groan.

"Sir?!" he heard as the hysterical crying stopped abruptly. Soft, cool hands brushed his sweaty hair away from his cheek and out of his eyes. He turned his face into the caress – it was calming, soothing.

"Sir, are you alright?" the voice asked again.

Severus felt someone shake him. Slowly, he opened his eyes and found Hermione kneeling beside him, her face twisted in concern. "Miss Granger... wha..."

"Oh, thank God!" she cut him off. Her hands clenched in the front of his shirt, and she nearly fell on top of him in her relief. Her sobs renewed themselves, and her tears were soon mixed with the sweat, dirt, and blood that now covered his once white shirt.

"Miss Granger..." he called softly, laying his right hand on her back. His mind was still hazy. He needed to find out what had happened.

The girl was still clinging to him, sobbing into his chest.

"Miss Granger!" he called again, raising his voice. Hermione pulled away from him, wiping angrily at her tears.

"I'm s-sorry, sir... I'm just... I don't know what..." she sighed and closed her eyes tightly. She took a deep breath to compose herself before speaking again. "Are you alright?" she asked finally.

"That has yet to be determined," he said tightly.

He shifted in order to sit up. Even without her weight pressing down on him, Severus' left arm gave way beneath him in a flash of hot, searing pain. He heard Hermione's sharp intake of breath as he fell back to the cold ground with a grunt, his face contorting in excruciating pain. Bringing his right hand to his left shoulder, he could feel that the fabric of his shirt was shredded and wet – tacky with congealing blood. His hand came away scarlet.

"The manticore, Miss Granger?" he said weakly, closing his eyes against a wave of nausea.

A pregnant pause. "Dead, sir."

He turned quickly in her direction, cringing as another sharp, hot pain shot through his shoulder at the sudden movement. Another wave of nausea rolled his stomach. He swallowed thickly against the bile rising in his throat. "How?" he asked after a moment.

Her face contorted in shame. "I... sir... It was going to kill you!" she cried desperately. She covered her face with her hands as the sobs returned.

He stared at her in disbelief. Slowly, using his good arm for leverage this time, he attempted to sit up again. His injured arm lay uselessly across his lap. The sleeve of his shirt was virtually nonexistent – only the cuff and a few shredded pieces of white fabric held it together. Blood ran in slow, dark lines down his bicep and into the crook of his elbow, where it split into two thick rivulets to run down either side of his forearm. His black trousers were soaked through. He ignored it. All his attention was focused on the trembling young woman in front of him. He vividly remembered the flash of green just before the darkness had overcome him, and his heart lurched in his chest. "I take it... that you have never cast the Killing Curse before?" he said, resting his weight shakily on his uninjured limb.

She shook her head frantically, silent tears streaming down her face.

Severus stared at Hermione as she knelt next to him. His brow drew together as he suddenly saw this diminutive girl in a new light. She had cast the Killing Curse... to save him. Only twice in his life had he – a heartless Death Eater, a minion of the Dark Lord – ever cast the Avada Kedavra, and even then it had been forced upon him. Never had he used it in defense of another.

His chest tightened with something long forgotten – something taken from him long ago that he thought he would never find again while he still drew breath. It was not the feeling itself that scared him. What scared him was that instead of turning from it – instead of burying it deep inside – he unwittingly embraced it and felt strangely... renewed.

Shaking his head, he pushed the fledgling emotion down. It was not gone; he would simply think about it – and the implications – later. Right now, he needed to tend to his wounds and Hermione's, if she had any. He turned to his uninjured side and slowly rose to his knees, clutching his injured arm to his stomach. He waited a moment, letting the dizziness subside before coming shakily to his feet.

Hermione rose quickly to his side. She grasped him gently by the upper arm as he swayed on his feet.

"Let's get inside sir, so I can see to that shoulder."

"I am more than capable of dealing with my own wounds, thank you." He closed his eyes against a third wave of nausea, so he did not see the irritated press of her lips.

As the sick feeling subsided once more, he opened his eyes and glanced to the side, where the dead manticore lay. Its mouth was twisted in a vicious, nightmare snarl, even in death. "Cast a stasis spell on the carcass. Manticore parts are exceedingly rare and invaluable as ingredients." Hermione reluctantly let go of his arm and did as she was told as Severus hobbled slowly back to the tent, clutching his injured arm to his chest.

She caught up to him before he reached the tent, but not before he stumbled and fell to his knees. Hermione cringed as she watched him empty the contents of his stomach onto the churned up grass of the clearing. Feeling helpless, she simply knelt beside him and held his hair out of his face. She pulled her wand from her pocket and looked around. She spied a large, fallen leaf and flicked her wand towards it, turning it into a cool, moist compress which she pressed to the back of Severus' neck. Finally, he appeared to be finished. He sat back shakily and wiped his mouth with the sleeve covering his good arm. Breathing heavily, and with his eyes closed, Hermione thought he might be sick again. Gently, she pressed the compress to his forehead.

When a few moments had passed, Hermione asked quietly, "Can you stand?" He nodded, and she put one hand under his good arm to steady him as he came to his feet. When she was certain he wasn't going to fall over again, she hurried ahead to lift the tent flap.

He nodded at her as he entered and then headed straight for the sofa. He sat down heavily, his blood-soaked trousers squelching against the fabric of the cushions. His injured arm and shoulder were stiff and almost unbearably painful, and as he started unbuttoning his ruined shirt, Severus grudgingly realized that he would probably need help in the end.

After quickly throwing up a few warding spells around the tent, Hermione had busied herself gathering the supplies Severus would need: several clean cloths and rolls of bandages; dittany; an anti-infection potion; an anti-nausea potion; Blood Replinisher; and a very strong painkiller.

"Here you are, sir," she said, holding out the pain potion.

After so many years in the service of the Dark Lord, Severus had become somewhat accustomed to pain and therefore extremely tolerant of most pain potions. The ones he brewed for himself were extremely potent – just because he was used to experiencing pain did not mean he liked to suffer. He stared at the bottle for a moment. If he took it now, he would be incoherent within 30 minutes. Could he trust the girl to care for him?

He took the bottle from Hermione and set it on the cushion next to him before turning his attention back to his buttons. He finished the ones down his front and at the cuff of his left sleeve. He tried once to use the hand of his injured arm to undo the buttons on his left sleeve – it was impossible.

"If you would, Miss Granger," he said reluctantly, holding up his uninjured arm.

"Aren't you going to take something for the pain first, sir?" she asked, reluctant to do anything that might cause him more pain.

"Not yet. That potion will make me delirious, and I want to have my senses about me in case you don't know what you're doing."

"You don't trust me, sir?" she said with a small smile.

"It is not a matter of trust, Miss Granger. It is merely a matter of wanting the full use of both arms."

She huffed softly before reaching out to undo the cuff of his sleeve. His breath was warm on her neck as she leaned in, helping him slide his good arm out. She could smell his aftershave – a hint of something sharp and herbal - mixed with the metallic smell of fresh blood and the thick, sour smell of vomit and sweat. Slowly, Hermione peeled the shredded, blood-soaked shirt off Severus' shoulders and down his left arm.

He gritted his teeth as the tacky fabric pulled at the deep slices in his flesh. Nausea rolled over him once more, and for one fleeting moment he thought he might pass out from the pain. Finally, the shirt was off, and Severus leaned back against the sofa with a groan. Its removal had caused the semi-coagulated wounds to start bleeding again, and dark-red blood was once again slipping down his arm.

Hermione reached for a cloth before summoning a bowl of warm water and dipping it in. After ringing out the excess, she reached towards his bare skin... and froze. When she did not move, but instead continued to stare, Severus became irritated. "Do you intend to let me suffer for the entirety of the night?"

She started. "Oh... sorry. I've just... well, that is to say..." she trailed off as her face flushed red.

He realized she was young, barely nineteen, but... "Surely your eyes are not so innocent that you have never seen a shirtless man?" he inquired acidly.

"Well, yes, sir... I mean... no, sir," she said, moving closer to him on the sofa. Her thigh pressed against his. "I've just never seen you in so few clothes. It's a bit disconcerting after nearly a decade of neck-high collars and layers of black robes."

He scowled at her. "Indeed."

She gave him a small smile, and he could tell that she was summoning every bit of her courage as she tentatively began wiping the blood from his chest. Normally, a simple Scourgify spell would have worked, but the magic of the manticore would not allow for magical healing of the wounds. That was one reason they were such dangerous creatures. The potions themselves, since not used directly on the wound, would help, but the gashes would have to heal on their own. Severus knew how lucky he was. One inch to his right and he would have been a dead man.

He turned his attention back to Hermione, watching her as she worked. She smoothed the warm cloth down his neck and over his collarbone. Warm trails of water ran down his chest, leaving tiny droplets of moisture clinging to his sparse chest hair. Her hands were warm and gentle, and Severus found himself relaxing despite the hot, throbbing pain. Again and again she wiped the red stain from his skin, until finally his chest was clean and dry. He was shocked to note that he was sorry she had finished so quickly.

As Hermione started on his injured arm, he noticed that the water in the bowl was dark-red, as were several of the cloths. How much blood had he lost? Obviously not too much or he wouldn't be conscious. No matter – the Blood Replenisher would take care of that.

By now, Hermione was working her way down his bicep, over his forearm, – never missing a beat as she passed over his Dark Mark – and down to his fingers. He winced slightly when she had to scrub a little to get the blood out from beneath his fingernails. "Sorry," she whispered.

She had him cleaned up after about thirty minutes. With a clean bandage applied and the potions now in his system, Severus started to feel better. However, there was still one matter left to attend to – his blood-soaked trousers. "Sir?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Hmm?" he replied lazily from his reclined position on the sofa. The pain potion was already taking effect.

"Um, I don't think you want to go to bed in your... with your boots and trousers on, sir."

He looked at her quizzically.

She sighed. "They're filthy, sir."

He continued to watch her, a lazy expression on his face.

The courage of Gryffindor House was being sorely tested tonight. "Would you like something clean to wear, sir?"

Realization came to him slowly. He had to shake his head to clear it before he spoke. "Ah... yes... of course. There is some nightwear in my satchel."

She silently Acciod his sleepwear – a pair of black, cotton sleep pants – and held them out to him. "Here you are, sir." He sat there calmly, holding the pants in his lap.

He really is out of it. How strong was that potion? Hermione wondered.

"Sir?" she called softly.

"Hmm?"

"Do you... do you need some... some help?"

This seemed to bring him back to reality a bit. His lips pressed into a thin line. "No," he said slowly.

She was utterly relieved. "Alright, then. Um, I'll just go into the kitchen. Call if you need me." She left quickly. As she waited by the small wood-burning stove, she heard a loud thud followed by an equally loud curse. She ran quickly back to the sitting area, only to find Severus on the floor, propped against the sofa. He looked murderous despite the narcotic pain killer running through his system.

She did not move, but waited on him to give her a sign that he wanted her assistance. He waved her over with a lazy, irritated sigh. Standing on his right side, she helped him back onto the sofa. Gently, she took off his boots and set them underneath the table. She was reaching determinedly for his belt when his hand closed around her wrist. "I would rather you... not... do that."

"But sir..." she argued.

"Just... help me stand, Miss Granger." He held out his pajamas to her. She took them, hugging them awkwardly to her chest. Reluctantly, she moved to his injured side and carefully helped him to his feet. She turned her head away – and closed her eyes tightly – as he carefully extricated himself of his filthy trousers. She heard the buckle come undone, and she even felt the fabric brush her legs as the pants dropped to the ground. His weight pressed down on her as he shifted to kick them away.

Eyes still pressed firmly shut, she held the pants out to him. He took them, and Hermione felt his weight press down on her again as he shifted to put first one leg and then the other into the pajama pants. Hermione thought she would literally die of embarrassment if she had to stand there – her naked former teacher literally pressed up against her – for one more second.

"Finished," she heard him say finally.

More relieved than she could possibly say, she put her arm around his – very warm, very bare – waist and helped him walk to the bed. She sat him down, and he flopped back onto the covers as the pain potion started taking maximum effect. She flushed red as she noticed that the soft cotton pants were riding low on his hips. So low, in fact, that she could see where the line of dark hair traveling down from his navel thickened, as it met with the hair around his...

Stop it! her inner voice cried.

She flushed as she pulled her eyes away from the soft dip of his stomach – and places further down – and continued with what she was doing. The bed itself was tall, so after she pulled the covers back, she hopped up beside him and gently helped him to sit back up.

"Come on, sir, under the covers with you." She indicated the raised duvet with a tip of her head.

Slowly, and surprisingly without protest, Severus let her help him crawl beneath the covers. Once there, he lay back absently against the pillows, and Hermione tucked the soft fabric gently around him, careful to avoid bumping his injured arm.

"There we are, sir. You rest now." She was shocked when he smiled at her. Her stomach fluttered at the look in his eyes – it was as if he had never seen her before.

"Beautiful," he whispered, reaching out with his uninjured hand to brush her face with the backs of his fingers.

To say she was startled was an understatement. She blushed furiously, and her heart thudded wildly in her throat. "S-Sir, you're delirious," she stammered as she gently pulled away.

His eyes went out of focus for a moment as he looked at a point just over her shoulder. "No," he said finally, looking back to her.

She absently re-tucked the duvet around him. "Yes, you said so yourself."

"Not about this." He reached out slowly to take her hand in his. Her heart returned to her throat.

"Do you know how beautiful you were on the night of the Bonding?" he said softly. The look on his face was so serious it left her momentarily speechless.

"Sir, I..."

"You were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen." His gaze took on that faraway look again, and his voice was barely a whisper. "You have no idea, Hermione, how easy it would have been for me to stand there and imagine that instead of my apprentice, you were becoming... my wife."

Her mouth moved, but nothing came forth.

His confession shocked her to the core. She had never thought of him as a man who would tolerate another person for long, let alone a lifetime. Hell, she was still shocked at her apprenticeship.

For him to want a wife? That was unheard of. Who would have thought that such a cold, supposedly unfeeling man would want a companion... a family even?

"I don't know what to say, sir," she whispered, averting her eyes from his.

He still held her hand. His skin was warm, and his fingers were long and fine-boned. Hermione imagined he would make an excellent pianist if he so chose.

When he did not reply, she looked up. His eyes were closed, his face slack in restful sleep. She smiled softly. He was a severe man, both in attitude and appearance, but to see him in sleep, one would think him gentle, the type of man any woman would kill to have love her. She placed his hand upon his chest and pulled the duvet higher, tucking it carefully around his shoulders.

Remembering how he had defended her by standing up to that horrible monster, thinking of her safety before his own, she thought that any woman would be lucky to have him. If only she were half as lucky one day... But, hadn't he just admitted...? Did he want her as his wife? That was inconceivable. No. He was simply drugged out of his wits and not thinking clearly. Yes, that's all it was.

Hermione watched him for a few moments. His dark hair fell across his face as he turned his head in his sleep. Sighing, she reached out to brush it from his eyes, trailing her fingers absently down his cheek as she did. The corners of his mouth turned up at her touch. "Sleep well, sir," she whispered as she leaned down and placed a gentle, chaste kiss on his forehead.

Hermione returned to the sofa, transfiguring it into a small, clean cot before she lay down. Transfiguring one of the small throws into a warm, down comforter, she snuggled into it and closed her eyes. The night had been eventful to say the least, and she was exhausted. Severus' whispered confession was reluctantly pushed to the back of her mind as she soon fell into a light slumber.

She would not realize until much later that, although she had almost lost her life that night, she had most certainly lost her heart.

******End Flashback******

~TBC

A/N: Next up: Back to the present for a bit. Thanks for R&R!!