Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hermione's composure, unfortunately, did not last long. Kingsley Shacklebolt had obviously decreed that his employee and her charge were to be well fed, as they were supplied with square meals for lunch and dinner, which, Severus said, made a welcome change from the usual Azkaban diet of bread and water. The drawback to this hospitality was that the food was brought to their cell by the Dementors. It had evidently been prepared at the Ministry, but the couriers were not allowed inside the prison.

Hermione survived the lunchtime delivery by turning her back to the door and swigging hot chocolate while Severus took delivery of the food, but the serving of the evening meal was more problematic. Six Dementors entered the cell, two moving the desk to the centre of the room, and four carrying plates covered by silver domes, side dishes, and jugs of pumpkin juice. There was no need for so many of them, and Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that they were delighted to have an excuse to torment the Ministry trainee and the prisoner they were possibly to lose. Briefly, she wondered if the Dementors were fully back under Ministry control; then the capacity for rational thought left her.

Hermione shrank back against the wall as the Dementors swept around, spending as long as possible in the tiny cell. She reached desperately for the emergency bar of chocolate in her pocket and took a bite, but she couldn't swallow. Her throat was closing up; the room was dissolving in swirls of white fog; she was drowning in the cold. She felt her knees buckle; a voice yelled 'Hermione!', and she collapsed to the floor as she blacked out.

'Take the prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback. All except the Mudblood.'

Bellatrix Lestrange was advancing on her; Ron was yelling, and Greyback was laughing at him.

'Reckon she'll let me have a bit of the girl when she's finished with her? I'd say I'll get a bite or two, wouldn't you, Ginger?'

Hermione was being dragged across the floor by her hair; then Bellatrix turned her wand on her...

'Hermione.' The sound of her name brought her to, and she cowered, expecting to be hit by the Cruciatus curse. Strong arms closed around her, and she struggled weakly.

'Hush. It's all right, Hermione,' said a soft voice by her ear. 'Drink this. Drink it.'

A strong, sweet taste touched her lips. Chocolate liqueur. As her panic faded, and the paralysing cold left her limbs, she realised where she was. Snape was sitting on the narrow mattress in the corner of the cell, his back braced against the wall, and she was propped up against his chest as he tried to encourage her to drink. As her breathing returned to normal, Hermione leant back into Snape's arms, feeling too weak to move.

That had been horrible; she must have blocked the memory of Malfoy Manor from her mind, because that was the first time she'd ever relived it. She sniffed a bit, and Severus' arms closed around her again.

'Never mind Dumbledore,' he said furiously, smoothing her sweaty hair back off her face, 'I could murder Shacklebolt for putting you through this.'

'Was my idea,' she murmured. It was very nice, after her moment of panic, to be safe and comfortable in his arms. Her cheek was resting against his pectoral muscle – it made quite a nice pillow, really. He was so skinny, she was surprised, pleasantly surprised that he had muscles. Must be all those years of carrying heavy cauldrons around the Potions Lab.

She wished she didn't have to get up. Perhaps she didn't; perhaps she could stay here all day. Well, not quite all day; she was sure she could think of something else to do with him, here, in this dark corner with the mattress...

Don't be ridiculous, she told herself severely; she didn't think of Snape like that. It was just that she hadn't been held like this in weeks, not since before Ron walked out on her, since she'd chosen Severus over Ron.

There was a bar of Honeydukes 70% cocoa chocolate on the mattress; she reached for it and took a quick bite. She normally wasn't keen on dark chocolate; she'd bought it for Severus who, she reckoned, would probably prefer it to the synthetic, milk-version she favoured. But now she was glad of it – the more cocoa solids, the more Dementor-fighting alkaloids it contained. They were what gave you the high, she reflected. They're also an aphrodisiac, a little voice in her head remarked. Oh well, at least there was a chemical explanation for her irrational fantasies.

'You should eat the whole bar.' Severus was still smoothing the hair off her face, but now he seemed to be twirling ringlets of it around his fingers, almost absent-mindedly.

No, said the little voice in Hermione's head, given what I've just been thinking, that would be a really bad idea. Out loud, she gave what she hoped was an off-hand little laugh. 'I dread to think how many calories I've eaten today. I'm going to end up the size of Hagrid.'

Severus snorted softly. 'Women are obsessed with being thin as wraiths. You don't need to worry about that. You are...' He stopped abruptly and looked away, as if he'd said too much.

Hermione held her breath, feeling her cheeks grow hot. 'I'm what?' she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

'You are worrying unnecessarily,' he finished curtly. 'Now, can you stand?'

******

Around midnight Hermione found she simply couldn't concentrate on her books any more. The combination of alcohol and hot chocolate was making her sleepy, and the candles were burning too low to see the page properly. She yawned hugely.

'You should try to sleep,' Severus said, looking up from his own book. 'You take the mattress; I'll sit up here.'

Hermione smiled ruefully. 'It's more than my job's worth to go to sleep with you still awake.'

'You do not trust me?' There was a slight hint of disappointment, even hurt, in his tone that said: Still?

'The Ministry doesn't trust you, Severus, I'm sorry. Kingsley Shacklebolt has already accused me of trying to aid and abet you.'

'I would have expected nothing less. The power has gone to his head,' Severus said, trying to stifle a yawn.

'You need sleep too,' Hermione told him firmly. 'Tomorrow is going to be taxing enough as it is.' She looked up at him. His expression was unreadable in the shadows. 'I know how to manage this,' she said, 'but you're going to have to trust me and cooperate.'

She led him over to the mattress and indicated for him to lie on his side, facing away from the wall. Then she lay down with her back to him, so that his left arm was trapped underneath her. The mattress was narrow, and she had to slide right in beside him to avoid falling off the edge.

'I'm sorry it's a bit intimate, but it's the only way. You won't be able to get up now without waking me.' She blew out the candle and tried to get as comfortable as possible on the lumpy mattress. 'At least we might keep each other warm.'

As he lay there in the darkness beside her, feeling her comforting weight against his arm, inhaling the soft scent of her hair, he thought that this might well be the first night he had spent in here when he would be untroubled by nightmares.

******

When Hermione woke up, dawn was breaking, and the first rays of weak sunlight were struggling through the barred window. She had shifted in her sleep and was now turned towards him. His left arm was still trapped under her, and he had thrown his right around her shoulder as he slept. Hermione considered. She couldn't get up without disturbing him and, after the month he'd had, he needed the sleep. She studied his face. He finally looked at peace in his sleep – the shadows under his eyes had lessened, and the furrows of worry and misery that lined his forehead were smoothed out.

She was exhausted herself – evidently the Dementors had had more effect on her than she'd thought. She felt warm and comfortable and, strangely, safe. She had spent all day trying to make him feel safe and confident, and now, even asleep, he seemed to be doing the same for her. She closed her eyes and snuggled into his unconscious embrace. There was nothing to get up for yet, anyway.

******

'I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?'

'We found it,' Hermione sobbed. 'We found it – PLEASE!' But before she could even finish the word, Bellatrix Lestrange had turned her wand on her again, and Hermione screamed as fire ripped through her.

'You are lying, filthy Mudblood! Tell the truth!'

Through her agony Hermione heard Ron's distant voice yelling 'HERMIONE! HERMIONE!', but she knew she would never see Ron again – Bellatrix was going to kill her; she surely couldn't survive this pain. She could hear Lucius Malfoy and Fenrir Greyback laughing as she curled into a ball on the floor and screamed and screamed.

Hermione woke, still in the grip of the nightmare, still screaming. Instinctively, Severus pulled her to him, more to stifle the noise than anything. 'Shh,' he whispered urgently. 'We don't want the Dementors in here.' But, as he felt her shaking and sobbing in his arms, he realised he wanted to comfort her. She was nineteen; she was putting herself through a dreadful ordeal for his sake, and she was terrified. Tentatively he stroked her back, feeling a mixture of acute embarrassment and unexpected tenderness. 'Hush,' he murmured softly. 'You're safe with me. It was just a dream. You're safe.'

She gave a small sob, choked and struggled for breath, beginning to panic again.

'Breathe, Hermione,' Severus instructed. 'Take deep breaths.'

She took a couple of shuddering breaths and finally lay still in his arms. Her head was resting on his chest, her cheek pressed against his skin through the open neck of his robes, and his hands were now stroking her hair, methodically, soothingly. She could smell his scent, even through the other, less appealing, scents of the prison. He smelled warm and musky, and Hermione, still half asleep, inhaled deeply, feeling calm and protected and... aroused. I can't blame this on a chemical reaction to the chocolate, she thought muzzily. There can't be any left in my system, or I wouldn't have had the nightmare. I must be missing Ron. But that wasn't true. She hadn't thought about Ron for the last month; the man who had occupied her thoughts (and her dreams) was the one lying beside her now.

For, despite her protests to Ron that it was work and she'd had no choice, Hermione now admitted to herself that she had known exactly what she was doing. She had chosen Severus over Ron, and she did not regret her choice at all.

His hair was falling across her face, tickling her, and she swept it back over his shoulder, her fingers brushing against his neck as she did so. Instantly, Severus' whole body tensed. Hermione drew back, afraid she had hurt him, scratched his skin by mistake maybe. She looked up into his face, expecting him to be angry with her, ready to apologise, but was shocked into silence by the look in his eyes. She hadn't hurt him, quite the opposite. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe.

'We must get up,' Severus said, eventually. 'The Dementors cannot find us like this.'

Hermione scrambled awkwardly out of bed. 'I'm sorry,' she mumbled, suddenly unable to look at him. 'I don't know what happened. I never react like that to the Dementors. I usually just faint.'

'You are more vulnerable when asleep,' Severus said, his voice gentler than a moment ago. 'It is not unusual to suffer nightmares in Azkaban.'

She nodded and turned away, but he caught her wrist and pulled her back towards him, and she found herself being pressed up against his chest. Again.

'Hermione.' She waited, not trusting herself to speak. Severus looked as if he was fighting the same battle with himself, then: 'Thank you,' he muttered. 'For doing this. For defending me. I'm grateful.'

Hermione held his gaze for a second, then forced herself to turn away. She had to pack up her stuff... and she had to collect her thoughts. She couldn't do this now; she had to stop thinking about what had just happened or she'd never be able to be objective in the courtroom.

She had, unwittingly, crossed a line, one that, she suspected, could make their working relationship rather complicated. Oh, well, at least she only had to get through the hearing, and then she need never see him again. The thought did not comfort her at all.

******

A/N Hermione's nightmares and all the speech in them are from DH Ch 23.