To Take Arms Against a Sea of Troubles

The next morning, Hermione awoke with a crick in her neck and the rest of her joints creaking like hundred-year-old floorboards. The damage from the Cruciatus was always at its worst immediately after she'd slept. Groaning, she realised she had fallen asleep during her cry last night, facedown on her pillow. As she rolled over and propped herself up on her elbow, she massaged her neck with her other hand. Her face felt stale from the dried tears. Half-blind, Hermione fell out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom to wash her face.

Staring at her glistening face in the mirror, she dragged a towel over it, the fluffy terrycloth rubbing a little zest and colour into her formerly dull and sleepy visage. After staring at herself a while longer, she set her chin defiantly at her own reflection and ripped her half-wet curls out of their messy ponytail. In a moment, she was dressed and ventured carefully, though creakily, into the kitchen.

Severus was already there, making coffee in a large press. After glancing at her, he finished the coffee while she stood uncomfortably in the doorway, and poured it into two large china cups, handing one to her.

"There is cream and sugar on the table," Severus said as he moved toward said table, seating himself gracefully as he sipped his coffee. Hermione noted, as she poured milk into her own coffee, that Snape drank his black.

Settled in her armless cushioned chair, Hermione took notice of a platter of steaming scones on the table.

Seeing her eye the scones out of the corner of his eye, Severus smirked slightly and remarked, "Please, partake of as many scones as you desire, Miss Granger."

Having finished her scone and coffee, Hermione poured herself another cup and re-seated herself, eyeing Snape uneasily.

Having waited for her to finish eating, Snape put down his newspaper and said baldly, "I am of the opinion, Miss Granger, that the worst has passed us."

She started a bit and flushed.

"Clearly, neither of us were at fault; the fates seem simply to have wanted us to suffer. I believe it would be best to put this uncomfortable situation behind us."

Hermione sat stiffly, staring into her coffee.

"If it helps, I saw nothing," he smirked, "of an incriminating nature."

Hermione glowered at him for a few seconds, but failed and started to laugh.

"Very well," she said, sighing.

"Bon," Snape said silkily and stood, Scourgifying his dishes and floating them back to their respective cupboards.

"Ehm... May I ask, ah... where you're going?" Hermione asked timidly.

"I have a business to attend to," Snape said. "I shall be in my lab in the basement for most of the day."

"Oh... Could I help?"

Snape gazed at her penetratingly.

0o0o0o0

... Six months later ...

Hermione woke from a deep slumber with a feeling of dread nestled deep in her stomach. As she pushed the lovely green duvet off herself, she stretched her morning kinks out and tried to think what it was that unsettled her so.

Sliding off the edge of the massive bed, she felt her nightgown slide back down around her thighs as her feet hit the floor. She lifted her wand from the nightstand and opened all the windows, breathing deeply the sweet Irish breeze that ruffled the thin material of her nightgown against her body.

On her way to the bathroom, Hermione's eye was caught by her wall calendar, today's date circled in a bleeding scarlet felt pen.

Oh, yes. Today was, technically, the last day of her stay.

While she felt that she and Snape had developed a sort of cool understanding over the preceding six months, she did not feel that she was at all fond of him. Yet... and yet... she felt that to leave could possibly rip her asunder. No, she wasn't precisely fond of Snape, but she did feel unbelievably comfortable and secure in his presence.

She didn't want to leave, but she was pretty certain Snape would want her gone.

What was she supposed to do?

0o0o0o0

Severus Snape was not accustomed to having no idea what he was about.

One moment, Hermione Granger was an irritatingly innocent Gryffindorian chit; the next moment, she was a quiet, companionable young woman and a very capable Potions assistant who was slowly beginning to understand his own very, very dry sense of humour.

Unfortunately, she also had her own sense of humour, which again was irritatingly innocent and Gryffindorian, though it was seasoned with her own wit and intelligence.

Today was the last day. Against his will (it seemed most things that happened nowadays were against his will), the date had become earmarked in his head, as if it were some momentous occasion.

Such a thought was ridiculous because the day Severus needed or even wanted Hermione Granger to serve any capacity in his life, was the day –

"Oh, shut it," he snapped at his reflection witheringly and splashed his face liberally.

The fact was, he reflected bitterly, however much he craved independence and solitude, this cursed Lifebond had clearly made such a concept a thing of the past.

He would talk to Poppy. Probably, he should speak with Hermione – Miss Granger – first, but he did not believe himself equal to such a taxing conversation without fortification.

0o0o0o0

"I have a few errands to run. I shall return by dinnertime."

Hermione looked up from her chair in the library, resting her thick tome on her knees. "All right."

"Very well – what are you reading?"

"Oh – it's your favourite Potions text from university."

"How did you know it was my favourite?" he asked, intrigued.

"It has the most notes. It's more worn than the others."

"How do you know the notes do not indicate it is my least favourite?" Severus challenged her.

"Your least favourite one has more cross-outs."

The right corner of his lips curved upward a fraction... "Carry on, Miss Granger."

"Oh, by the way, would you mind picking up some tampons for me? My favourite brand is Witchtex, but anything will do."

"Certainly." He left.

0o0o0o0

"Witchtex, Poppy. Witchtex!"

"Dear me, Severus," Poppy remarked mildly as the hysterical man burst into the infirmary where a frightened student stood receiving a pass from Madam Pomfrey.

"I refuse," Severus snarled, "I unequivocally refuse to accept either the burden or the responsibility of being eternally fused to a green, irritating, know-it-all of a chit!"

"Hermione said she refuses to accept either the burden or the responsibility of being eternally fused to an emotionally constipated, sour old coot of a man," Poppy replied, dismissing the third year who scampered out of the infirmary gratefully.

"She said nothing of the sort."

"No, she didn't, but she should have." Poppy sighed. "What's all this about, Severus? What are these ravings of Witchtex?"

"She asked me to buy her tampons. What is worse, I acquiesced without a demur. It did not even occur to me how inappropriate it would be until I'd already Apparated into Hogsmeade."

"You are living with her, but buying her necessary hygienic equipment is inappropriate?"

"We are hardly 'living together' as you so salaciously put it," Severus almost sneered. "We board under one roof but occupy separate chambers."

"I would hardly say I was implying salaciousness, Severus. I was merely pointing out semantics."

Severus followed Poppy into her office and sat in the chair opposite her desk, sighing.

"I'm at my wit's end, Poppy," he said in a low voice. "To say truth, I'm desperate. I haven't the faintest idea what to do."

A plate of steaming food appeared on the desk before him.

"You can start by eating that."

"Poppy..."

"I know it's a losing battle, but that doesn't mean it's not worth fighting," Poppy said primly as she put her tea on.

Severus picked up the fork and grudgingly ate.

"Severus, we've been having these little chats more or less since you first began spying for Albus. I have enjoyed and appreciated them immensely, and I have always done my level best to be honest with you. However, I have never been quite as honest as I am about to be.

"You are, without a doubt, one of the most noble, yet flawed men I have had the privilege to know. It is because of this that I am quite fond of you, Severus."

"Poppy, please, this display of emotion..."

"Oh, Severus, do be quiet. As I was saying, if I didn't have a sincere affection for you, I would not be so forthcoming.

"You are being an unbearably arrogant, narrow-minded coward."

Severus choked on his buttered asparagus.

"While you and Hermione Granger undoubtedly have your differences, I shall take this opportunity to declare that her main fault has been associating with Harry Potter, whose main fault was being born of James Potter, whose main fault was being a thoughtless and insensitive clod.

"Hermione is a first-rate young woman and the only witch under sixty-five who can match your own considerable breadth of brain.

"The advice you have come seeking is this: Pluck up, stop whining and be a man. You have suffered. So have we all. You are not specially privileged to withdraw from the world, disdaining it. Hermione Granger could be the best thing to happen to you since... Well, there you are."

The muscle in Severus' jaw worked convulsively. "I see," he said stiffly, standing up. He strode to the door and, gripping the knob tightly, paused and said huskily, "You are undoubtedly correct. Thank you for... the advice."

"Wait, Severus. Here's a spare box of Witchtex."

"Thank you. My menstruating assistant shall be thrilled."

0o0o0o0

Hermione felt that it had been mostly a blur. Snape had come home (when had she started thinking of this place as home?), and with much hemming and hawing and stiff, uncomfortable pauses, they had somehow arrived at the decision that Hermione would remain with Snape indefinitely, working as his assistant.

She felt relieved.

She also felt that her life had ended.

This wasn't what she wanted. She wanted Ron back, but Ron wouldn't write to her, wouldn't respond to any of her letters. Instead of warm, easy-going, goofy Ron, she had cold, stiff, implacable Snape.

She lay down on her bed, holding the tears in.