Chapter 13 - Confrontation

Hermione stood before Severus and blinked in confusion.

“What do you mean, you cannot continue with my plan?”

“It’s not that difficult to comprehend. I need to bring this pleasant farce to an end.”

Hermione grasped her left arm. Her right thumb dug furiously into the fabric as she attempted to relieve the growing itch beneath her sleeve. “Severus, this is no farce. This is your life and my business. How could you call this a farce? I have a stack of notes detailing the change of public perception, and all data indicates my first goal will be accomplished before the four months allocated to it are over.”

“Ms. Granger, I’ve come to certain realizations. I have my own agenda, and this public relations game hinders them.”

Hermione began to scratch furiously at her scar. Severus noticed the tears as they began to pool at the corners of her eyes.

“Ms. Granger? I’m Ms. Granger now? Severus, this is not a ‘game’ for me. You at least owe me an explanation of your agenda.”

In three steps, Severus crossed to Hermione and grasped her wrist, holding her arm away from her body. “Why the bloody hell are you always attempting to scar yourself? You worry this wrist every time you are anxious. Let me see the rash – I will send you a salve for it.”

The word "scar" caused Hermione to jump. In her panic, she wrenched her wrist from his grasp, twisting with such quick force that she knocked over the tea service. The contents fell to the floor and created a sloppy mess.

“I’m fine. I don’t have a rash. Just don’t grab me again.”

Severus regarded her actions and knew something was amiss. “Hermione, what happened to you? Something doesn’t add up here. Please, let me see your wrist. The least I can do to repay your kindness is to help relieve your pain.”

Hermione sat on her sofa, pointed her wand at the mess and Evanesco’ed everything from the floor.

“Severus, you cannot relieve my pain any more than I can convince you to allow me to continue this plan.”

Severus sat to the left of her. Using his voice to soothe and comfort her, he quietly whispered, “Show me.”

Hermione shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t. I just can’t, Severus. You have to understand.” Tears slowly trailed down her cheek.

“If you can’t show me, will you tell me? Will you describe your symptoms for me?”

With a quivering chin and reddening nose, Hermione shook her head.

“Hermione, something is causing you great pain. I’m not so oblivious as to ignore this. If you can’t show me, or relate to me your cause of discomfort, will you give me permission to look for myself?”

Hermione’s disfigurements had weighed upon her consciousness for two years. She was tired of hiding within her shell. Considering he was ending their public relations campaign and would never see her again, she gritted her teeth and nodded.

“Hermione, look at me.”

Expecting Severus to push her sleeve to her elbow, she was caught off guard by his whisper.

"Legilimens."

The first thing Severus could see was that she had not expected this and was slightly perturbed. Under that emotion, he easily uncovered the image of what upset her so much.

He could see a young woman, barely past schoolgirl innocence, lying upon the parquet floor of Malfoy mansion’s drawing room. Bellatrix Lestrange circled her like a vulture, cackling and spitting manic vitriol. Why wasn’t Hermione fighting? Oh… Crucio. Several bouts. He could feel the warm dampness in her knickers as the stench of urine rose to his nose. He could feel the sting of the curse travel through her limbs to her extremities. Weasley and Potter were yelling in the dungeon. He experienced the quick, sharp pain of Bellatrix’s curse down through Hermione’s abdomen. Bile pushed through her throat to escape from chapped and broken lips.

Even with this torture, Severus could feel a sense of resolve and knew Hermione was still prepared to fight.

Hermione’s sleeve was torn from her, exposing her left arm to the cool air of the ballroom. “You filthy MUDBLOOD! How DARE you even attempt to breathe the same air as me! You have one more chance, Bitch. HOW DID YOU GET THAT SWORD!"

Hermione looked into Bellatrix’s crazy eyes. With a steady aim, she spit bile and blood straight into them.

What happened next was somewhat hazy, but Severus could feel the slap of a hand across her cheek. Did she pass out? The blackness was quickly dispelled when a burning pressure cut into the soft inner skin of her arm.

Time stood still as the pain of being carved alive continued. A wand was slicing raggedly into her arm, and it felt as if red coals were burrowing beneath her skin.

He followed Hermione’s gaze when Bellatrix jumped back, a sick smile etched on her face. There upon Hermione’s arm, torn into fleshy strips, was the branding. MUDBLOOD.

~~SSHG~~

Severus gently pulled away from her mind. He maintained eye contact with her as he cradled her arm in his hands. Gently, oh so slowly, he released the buttons of her cuff.

He watched for any reaction as he continued. All he saw was a straight face with tear-filled eyes holding his gaze.

He gently held her wrist in his left hand, and with his right, slowly brought her sleeve towards her elbow. When he knew it was uncovered, he lowered his eyes to the scar.

There it was. It was as ugly as his tattoo, which still reminded him of choices fools often make during the desperation of youth. Yet, this scar was almost as red as the day it was created. The Dark magic imbedded in her skin would certainly haunt her for years to come.

He understood more than Hermione could ever imagine. Here he was, scarred on the inside by his crimes, demanding discipline from society, and there she was, scarred on the outside, trying her best to make the world a more beautiful place.

Still holding her wrist in his hand, Severus looked back at Hermione’s eyes. He slipped back into her mind as he brought her arm towards his lips.

“You are beautiful, Hermione. You are beautiful. You are beautiful to me, Hermione.”

The mantra filled her mind and soul as his lips pressed to each letter, caressing each scar, filling her with his regard.

~~SSHG~~

Hermione felt herself slipping into a most enjoyable dream.

What had started as a nightmare, reliving her capture and torture, was turning into a fulfillment of her recent fantasies. Severus Snape was ministering to her physically and emotionally damaged body.

Quiet words whispered against her arm and all sensations of discomfort were dispelled. She watched his eyes, and he held her in his. There was no threat in them. There was no distaste.

She wanted his lips to stay on her tender skin. Forever.

Severus pulled away from her arm and reached for her damp cheek.

“Do you understand what I am trying to tell you, Hermione? Do you understand you do not need to hide yourself from me? Do not doubt, witch, you are most beautiful to my eyes.”

Emotions churned throughout her soul. Relief replaced shame. Desire replaced disgust. Hope replaced fear.

“Severus, please. I’m so confused. How can you find me beautiful?”

“Witch, you are the strongest, most capable person I have ever met. You are brave. You care so much for the welfare of others. How could I not find you beautiful?”

“But… my arm.” Hermione looked to his left hand, still holding her wrist, its thumb slowly tracing circles over her pulse point.

“Your arm is not the definition of who you are, Hermione. It is, however, a sign of the sacrifice you made to ensure our freedom.”

Severus brought his right hand back to her arm and slowly dragged his hand from elbow to wrist. “Hermione, I find myself in awe of who you are. Do you not realize why I want to sever our professional relationship? Hermione, I find myself falling in love with you.”

A/N – Thank you, everyone, for reading and reviewing this tale of mine. I am sorry to keep you waiting on this update. Thank you, Dreamy_Dragon, for helping me so much!