Healing

Thank you to karelia for her wonderful beta work!

Hermione rummaged around in her beaded bag, reaching around her purchases to find the lunch she'd ordered from the Leaky Cauldron. When her hands found the box, she pulled it out and hit the door with her hip.

"Good afternoon, Severus. I brought you some..."

She stopped, clutching her bag in one hand and the box of food in the other.

The bed was empty.

She spun in a circle...as if he could have possibly been hiding behind the door...and her emotions immediately careened out of control. Her lips started to wobble helplessly, and tears spilled from her eyes, even as her mind started to race through perfectly logical scenarios as to why he might have been moved.

She was still standing there, barely breathing, when she heard a toilet flush, followed by the sound of a faucet from the tiny bathroom in the corner of the room.

The relief that flooded her left her shaking, caught between the two extremes.

The narrow door opened, and he stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in his long, black robes, open at the neck, and his dragon-hide boots. Surprise lit his features, and then, when he saw the state she was in, he cocked his head to the side with worried concern.

His neck. He could move his neck. He was up and about and moving his neck.

It was all too much, and she burst into tears. Holding up the box of food, she blurted, "I brought you baked cod and some banoffee pie."

He came over and gently took the box from her, patting her back gently when she threw her arms around his chest. She buried her face in his robes and sobbed, and his arm tightened around her.

"I thought...I was afraid..."

"Shhh. I'm not. Not yet," he whispered.

He led her over to the chair in the corner and urged her down into it. Then he dragged over the chair by his bed and the little table on wheels as she tried to pull herself together.

He sat and opened his lunch, giving her an eyehug when she removed the stasis charm for him and turning the box to offer her some.

"No, thank you, I'm quite full. I ate with Lavender when we finished shopping. Oh!" She dug back into her bag and pulled out a bottle of boys bitter. "I asked, and Pye said it couldn't hurt."

He smiled at her, genuinely pleased, and her heart thumped proudly. He pulled out the utensils, snapped out the napkin, laying it in his lap, and then waved at her imperiously...his latest gesture...signaling his desire to hear what she'd been up to.

She told him of her adventures shopping with Lavender, the new additions to her wardrobe, the people she'd seen out along the way, and the mundane conversations she'd overheard here and there.

She chattered away through lunch, sat reading with him through the afternoon, and in the evening, when his strength gave out, helped him off with his boots and outer robes and tucked him back in bed.

She was adjusting his pillows when he scowled and clutched at the bandages on his neck. He twisted his head up at her as his hand came away holding the loose drain tube. Her eyes widened and, pulling her wand from her sleeve, she turned to the door and summoned a Healer.

She resisted the urge to peek under his bandages; instead, she quickly unbuttoned his white shirt to look at the vial taped to his chest. "It's empty," she whispered. "It must have come loose soon after Pye changed the vial this morning. When did you start moving your neck?"

"Before he changed it," he whispered.

They both turned as the door was pushed open, and Healer Thriven came in. "Good evening, I'm covering for Healer Pye tonight. What seems to be the matter?"

Snape held up his drain tube and swept a hand to the vial on his chest.

"I see." Thriven picked up his chart and scanned it as Hermione stepped out of the way. Hanging the clipboard back, the Healer pulled out his wand and ran through a series of Diagnostic Spells. He flattened his lips, reached forward, and began peeling the bandages off Severus's neck, revealing a long, jagged scar, still an angry pink, and nothing else. The hole where the drain had been had closed over. He leaned back and lifted Severus's left arm, unbuttoning the sleeve and pulling it back. The black stain seemed the same as it had been since they'd cut down on the antivenin and Healing Potions.

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

"It would seem, Mr. Snape, that you no longer have any venom in your system. The good news is that the darkness doesn't seem to be spreading yet, although I have no assurances that it won't. The bad news is that it would appear that the damage to your vocal cords is permanent. Your body has healed far beyond our expectations, so we were holding out for another miracle or two. Pye and I have conflicting theories as to what's going on. I believe the Dark Magic in the venom was in conflict with the Dark Magic in your arm, creating superfluous side effects. Pye believes the venom was trying to kill you and the mark was trying to preserve you. A bit farfetched, I grant you, in light of what it's done to Mr. Malfoy. However, one cannot deny that your body has healed.

"Technically, you're now healthy enough to go home. However, I would like it very much if you stayed at least for a few more days so we could monitor the Dark Magic in your arm. I won't lie to you, sir, we've not been able to make any headway in Mr. Malfoy's case and, as you know, can claim no responsibility for his son's recovery. The choice is up to you."

Snape heaved a long sigh before whispering, "I'll stay."

When Hermione came back on Sunday, Snape was up and dressed again, reading the morning paper in one of the chairs. She sat and talked with him for hours before she realized he never pulled his left hand away from a fold in his robes. When she noticed, she froze.

She held out her hand. "Show me."

He grimaced and held it up.

It was completely black.

She tugged his sleeve up slowly, as far as she could. There was no pale skin left.

"How far does it go?"

He touched his arm at a point four inches above his elbow.

She let go of his sleeve and just held his hand.

Hermione stared at herself in the mirrored door of Professor Snape's wardrobe. She'd woken up extra early to shower and attack her hair. Lavender had gone to great lengths to help her pick robes that would create a more professional look and had taken the time to teach her how to get her hair to cooperate.

"The sloppy chignon you had was perfect for volunteering. It had a sweet, nurturing thing going on. But if you want them to take you seriously as a professional, then you need to project your seriousness."

It had seemed like great advice at the time, but now Hermione wasn't so sure.

Her hair was pulled back in a sleek French twist that she feared looked pretentious, and her navy-blue tailored robes seemed a bit severe. She wore a cropped jacket over a slim, wool skirt that flared at the knees and fell to mid-calf. She had to admit the shoes...a playful take on the style popular in the forties...were perfect.

She just wasn't sure she was perfect in them.

She shook her head...nothing to be done now...and grabbed up her ubiquitous beaded bag.

:

Hermione knocked quickly before pushing the door open. "Good morning! I brought you your paper and some donuts. I hope you like..." She stopped when she realized Snape had gone very still. "Are you all right?"

He blinked.

He blinked again.

When he blinked a third time, she realized he wasn't trying to answer her, he was just blinking. She blushed.

"Is it too much? I thought it was, too, but Lavender said..."

Her words trailed off when he plucked the paper out of her hands and sat down in 'his' chair.

She fished the bag of donuts out of her bag and placed it on the table next to him.

"Thank you," he whispered, without looking up.

"I'll come back on my lunch break," she said, backing away.

He lifted his head from the headlines, and she barely heard his quiet, "Good luck."

"Thank you."

:

"So? How's your first day? You look fantastic, by the way."

"So far I'm just learning what is where and who is who," Hermione said, setting her tray down. "And thank you for the compliment. I have to say, I was really self-conscious until I got into the offices and saw I was dressed like the rest of them. You're now my permanent personal fashion consultant. Severus didn't help. He looked at me like I'd grown a new head this morning, and I wanted to throw up."

"Men are stupid when it comes to such things. Ignore him. How's he doing by the way?"

"Not good. Now that the venom is out of his system, the darkness is spreading."

Lavender stabbed at her salad. "It's just not fair," she said. "I Floo'd Draco on Sunday, just to see how he was doing. He's a wreck. His mum's dead and his father's now a vegetable."

"Is he really a vegetable?"

"Yeah. He had some kind of seizure late Saturday night, and there's little brain activity now. I'm meeting Draco for dinner tonight. I hate the idea of him being alone in this. He has no friends, you know?"

Hermione gave her a warm smile. "That's really nice of you." She cocked her head to the side. "But I thought you had plans with Michael?"

Lavender waved an airy hand. "I changed them. He'll be fine. Draco needs at least one person to take the time to listen."

Hermione knew she was traveling into dangerous waters, but couldn't help herself. "Did Draco talk to you about how he was cured?"

Lavender shook her head. "No. I asked, but he grew too upset. It's not like we're bosom buddies. We barely spoke two words to each other in seven years of schooling. He's just so grateful for a kind word that he'll even put up with mine. The trick is to let him feel superior. He needs that like he needs air."

Hermione winced, both with disappointment and empathy.

"Have you heard from Ron at all?" Lavender asked.

"No. I haven't spoken to Harry or Ginny since I moved. I'll Floo Harry when I get home tonight."

"So are you ever going to tell me where you're staying?"

"I can't. It's Secret Kept."

"Ohhh..."

Hermione could see the fires of speculation burning in her friend's eyes.

"I'll catch you tomorrow," she said, forestalling further inquiries. "I want to go see Professor Snape before I head back to the office. Give Draco my best."

"Shall do."

:

Severus was standing by the window, hands clasped behind his back, peering out into the Muggle street below, when she entered his room. His abandoned lunch tray disappeared with a soft pop just as he turned and saw her.

She smiled, and he fell back on habit and gave her an eyehug before turning away again. She stepped up to his shoulder and looked through the blinds.

"Starting to get a little stir crazy?" she asked.

He snorted and nodded slightly.

"How is your energy?"

"Fine," he whispered, not taking his eyes off the view.

She studied his profile, with his elegantly slanting forehead and his high-bridged, implausible nose. The daylight threw his features into harsh relief. His dark, almost feminine brows and lashes contrasted with his pale skin. She scrutinized the tiny lines bracketing his mouth and creasing his eyes, all seemingly caused by anger or pain. There were no smile lines that she could see. His mouth was narrow and sharply defined. It looked soft and slightly sad, unlike when he had been a teacher.

She was so lost in her reverie that she didn't even realize at first when he turned or that she was now staring at his whole mouth and not just the profile. She flicked her eyes up and met his.

His eyes held a fierce, intense expression, and the air seemed to gradually thicken and crackle between them.

She blinked.

"Would you like me to take you out of here for a while?" she asked. "If you think you're up to it, we could go for a walk."

He looked away, back out onto the street below. "No," he said.

She let his answer fade into nothingness and joined him in gazing at the occasional Muggle who went by.

"Severus, if I wasn't staying at your house, would you have gone home yesterday?"

He sighed and a darting glance showed he'd closed his eyes. "No. I have accustomed myself to the idea that I will die in this room. To leave now would give me false hope."

She nodded, blinking back tears.

"What will happen to you?" she asked irrationally.

He snorted amusement. "You were ever curious about things best left unmentioned." He turned to her. "I can only assume that I will waste away and fall into a coma, like Lucius. Then I will join him and the Dark Lord burning in hell for eternity."

"You don't know that!" she hissed. "That's just morbid speculation. Only idiots believe in hell. It's a construct of the Dark Ages, not Dark Magic! Even if there was a hell, a man as noble as you won't go there. After the sacrifices you've made? Please. For god's sake, Harry said he met Dumbledore at King's Cross Station. There's nothing of Muggle mythology beyond the veil, all of that is just superstitious nonsense. I would have thought a man as intelligent as you wouldn't belief in such rubbish."

His eyes danced with mirth as his lips quirked, and her words sputtered to a halt. She felt a bit like a fool.

"I hope you end up stuck in some eternal Disneyland until I get there to let you out," she muttered. "That would serve you right and be hell enough even for you."

He snorted and looked back out the window with a smirk on his face. She huffed and turned back to the window.

A moment later, she felt his hand slip into hers and clutched at it until her lunch hour was over.