Nine

Many thanks to my beta, Soul Bound.

Pain. Thirst. Hermione became aware of searing agony radiating out from her back. Her aching body told her that she was lying on her side, her head on a soft, unfamiliar pillow. She tried swallowing, but her mouth and throat were stuffed with gravel. Had she really eaten gravel? Hermione couldn't work it out. It didn't make sense, but it felt like it was true. There was an echo of distant footsteps, and it took her all her effort to open her eyes. The dark room meant nothing to her, so she dropped them closed again. Hermione breathed in and recognized a Hogwarts smell to the pillow. She was safe. She allowed nothingness to carry her away from the pain.

Heat. Pain. Voices swirled about her, fading in and out.

'This is not good. She is too hot.'

There was urgent murmuring.

'What has been her fluid intake?'

Hermione felt people moving about her, but so all-consuming was the heat and the pain that it was difficult to follow anything. She felt a waft of coolness as blankets were lifted from her.

'Water, you must use water.'

'You mean a bath?'

'Are you all incapable of doing anything that does not require the use of wands? I mean sponge her down with water in order to cool her down – she is too hot.'

The terrible pain in her back overcame her, and she faded away again.

Coolness. Fragrance. Softness. A gentle breeze flowed softly over her skin, and Hermione knew she was naked. Hermione sensed him next to her, and relief swept through her. He had come for her. He had finally taken her away from the pain and the sadness.

'I am here,' came his sound.

She moved her body slightly. There was uneven wood beneath her, and the firmness of his soft fur supported her. Hermione opened her eyes and looked out across a stretch of still water, which was mirror-like in the moonlight, to the dark shadow of trees on the other side. She was sitting on a great log, her feet dangling in the deliciously cool water. A night bird called out, and the great trees above her creaked as they moved gently. The air was warm and damp.

'I am glad. I long to be here always.' Hermione turned to look up at him sitting languidly beside her, gazing out at the beauty.

Slowly he turned and looked down at her, his big cat eyes gentle and full of concern. 'As am I, but you cannot stay long. You must go back.' There was firmness in his voice.

Hermione couldn't hide her disappointment. She dropped her eyes, looking down at her naked thighs, dreading going back to the pain and the sadness. The witch felt his warm breath and his velvet fur on her cheek as he rubbed his face against hers, understanding what she was feeling. She breathed in his musky smell, loving him.

'Come, my love; come into the water with me. I will carry you while you are weak.' He slipped smoothly into the silky water, causing barely a ripple, only his great head and shoulders visible near her feet, the white of his geometric stripes standing out in the slivery light.

Hermione hesitated. She was not use to her body being frail and vulnerable. With a push, she cast off from the log with a loud and uncoordinated splash. The water was fluid bliss running over her body. She kicked downwards...the water was deep.

'Put your arms around my neck, and I will support you.'

Hermione wrapped her arms around him, smelling his warm, wet fur close to her nose. He gently moved away from the log, his body swimming powerfully under her, towing her along smoothly. She allowed herself to relax against him and watched the ripples of their movements advance outwards in concentric rings across the still water. The moon was rising from behind the trees, casting the river and the trees in a silvery light. There was no stress in any part of her body, and pain was a distant memory. The water flowed over her body, washing away all hurt. As they moved towards the center of the river, Hermione dipped her head under the water, wetting her face and hair. The coolness went to the very heart of her. She felt weariness throughout her, but not from pain...rather from the joy of no pain. Wrapping her arms more securely around him and feeling the warmth of his body beneath her, she rested her head on his thick neck and drifted off with the sound, smell and feel of water all around her.

Thirst. Water. Pain. Hermione slowly opened her eyes and saw a pair of long-fingered hands wringing a cloth out over a blue and white enamel bowl and draping it neatly over its rim. She smelt the familiar smell of bleach, and in a moment of confusion thought she was at home with her mum.

'Ah, Miss Granger.' A voice came from a distance.

Her eyes moved up the hands that were drying themselves on a towel, over startling white forearms; the witch lingered on a dark tattoo and then moved to the rolled up black sleeves at the elbow. She then made the leap, with effort, and looked upwards. It was Snape, his height and his black clothes making him stand out against the sterility of the small, white room. He moved to her side, quickly rolling down his sleeves.

'Hello,' she croaked out in barely more than a whisper.

'Are you thirsty?'

Hermione gave the smallest nod, so Snape filled a goblet from a jug on a small nearby table, carefully propped up her head and held it to her lips while she drank. He's done this before, noted Hermione, and not a drop was spilt.

'It should taste good.'

It did. Hermione drank hungrily and fell back shortly in exhaustion, but felt the water nourishing her very soul. She realized the oddness of being here in this small room.

'What happened?'

'Do you remember we were attacked?'

The images came crashing back into her. The running; the pain; the raised tree root on a muddy path; the man; the pain; the stile; the nettles; her heartbeat; the knife; suffocation; the blood; the pain; the swifts on the field; water; fire; bodies; pain; white hands.

Hermione nodded, closing her eyes, and slipping back into the ancient tongue. 'Thank you, my teacher.'

'Pardon?'

'You drew them away from me.'

'No, thank you, my lady. You came back for me.'

Hermione groaned.

'Are you in more pain?' Snape's voice sounded anxious.

Hermione shook her head.

'You must tell me if the pain increases or if it changes in any way. It is very important.' Then, still seeing the frown on Hermione's forehead...'Well, what is it? Tell me.'

'I didn't... you know... over you... did I?' Hermione croaked out between dried lips.

There was a chuckle. 'I have had years of avoiding exploding cauldrons, my lady. I quite assure you I excel at evading sudden, fast moving liquid.'

Hermione started to laugh but quickly stopped. It hurt too much.

'Now that your temperature has dropped, I need to examine your wounds and change their bandaging, my lady.'

Hermione nodded, dreading the pain that would go with it, then realized the strangeness of Snape being here, tending her in the hospital wing.

Snape had moved to a small table near the single, narrow window and had his back to her.

'Madam Pomfrey?' she asked.

'I suppose you are asking why I'm here, my lady?' he said, turning.

'Err, yes,' Hermione admitted, knowing he had completely seen through her question.

His expression changed, and she recognized it with a shudder as the same one he wore when a student in Potions did something very wrong. 'I'm afraid nobody around here is capable of doing anything manually anymore.'

But he didn't make any sense. 'What?'

'Your body has grown resistant to the magic used here, my lady. That is why you are sick. And since we are unable to use standard magic practices to heal you, we have had to use other methods. Madam Pomfrey and her medical staff, while perhaps excellent in their area of expertise, have had great difficulty doing even the most mundane tasks without magic. Hence you have me treating you.'

'Oh.'

'I do assure you, my lady, that while I have had no formal medical training, there is a great deal of overlap between Potions and Muggle medicine. And out of necessity of my work, I am quite dexterous.'

'I didn't mean that.' Hermione breathed in. It took such an effort just to speak. 'I don't understand... resistant?'

'I take it by the enthusiasm you had when visiting the café we frequented that you discovered the unpleasantness of the food and drink here.' Snape sat down wearily on the chair, crossing his legs and looking at her.

Hermione nodded, grimacing at the thought. 'It's awful.'

'That is the expected reaction if you have been exposed to the more usual magic of the south, my lady.' Snape rubbed his thumb against his fingers in thought. 'Although I am of the opinion that it is in fact the reverse. Rather the witches and wizards here have become resistant to the overuse of magic, and it is we who are more sensitive to magic being used excessively and inappropriately.'

'You too?'

Snape nodded. 'That is what happens when the first ten years of your life is spent in the south amongst the circle. I have over the years become accustomed to the magic here, but it remains unpleasant all the same.'

The tall wizard stood up slowly and rolled the small table alongside her bed. On it was an array of instruments, potions and bandages neatly laid out in the same manner as a dentist's tray.

'However, your reactions are far more pronounced, and it seems you are also reacting to the magic used in the healing. This is unusual. It is only associated with exposure to very deep magic,' he explained, nonchalantly looking at the items on the table.

Hermione swallowed. 'Does anyone else know?'

'Only Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, but they do not understand the full implications of it.' Snape glanced up at her quickly.

'Good.'

'Now drink this, my lady; it will help the pain.' He lifted a cup to her lips again. It tasted familiar to her, but she couldn't get her mind to work enough to figure out what was in it.

The room grew hazy, and her eyelids became heavy so she let them drop shut. Hermione felt Snape lean close to her and then a tugging on her forehead. She could hear his quiet rhythmic breath as he gently took the bandaging off. The air felt odd. She knew she should move her head so that he could work straight on, but that meant moving from her side to her throbbing back. She tried to straighten her head all the same.

'No, do not move. I can manage like this. But I do need to put a towel underneath your head.'

He must have managed the maneuver as she only felt the smallest movement and breathed in the antiseptic smell of a clean towel near her nose.

'I also need to keep your hair out of the cut.'

She felt him lightly pull her hair back and secure it somehow.

'This is non-magic injury, which will be easier to heal. Head injuries always bleed a lot, so I need to clean it and have a look at the cut.' He then muttered in a much lower voice, 'Pah, there is dirt still in it. They really are useless, and then they are so shocked there is an infection.'

Hermione opened her eyes partially when she recognized a snapping sound and saw Snape putting on a pair of surgical gloves. She hadn't seen a pair of those in a long time. The water felt strange, but it didn't hurt, which was what she had feared. A trickle of water...or was it blood...ran down the side of her face. She felt a wipe of a sponge mopping it quickly up.

'It is a ragged cut, my lady, and it is still bleeding heavily. I need to stitch it closed.' Hermione heard him move to the table.

'I scraped my head on a branch, my teacher.'

'Hmm, yes, it looks like it. You will feel a sting, but it will soon be numb.'

Hermione kept her eyes firmly closed and felt the sting. The witch heard him moving away and the rattle of instruments on the table. She peered through half-closed lids again, and he was back leaning over her. His hair had been pulled back out of the way, giving her for the first time a good view of his face close up. Yes, his skin really was sallow, and his nose was big and hooked. She felt a tug on her forehead and dropped her eyes shut again. It didn't take long before the wizard had stitched and bandaged her cut and removed the towel from under her head.

'Madam Smith,' Snape called out loudly, taking his gloves off and depositing them in a large bin. 'I need more bandaging and some fresh water.'

After a pause, the door swung open, and the sharp smell and the loud noise of the general hospital ward came flooding in. Hermione peered through partly closed eyes and saw a blond woman about her own age come hesitantly through the door, glancing sideways at Snape. She was carrying a large jug awkwardly and, unfortunately for her, slopped some water on the floor just before she put it on the table. Hermione was surprised when Snape only looked at her pointedly, raising his eyebrows in obvious disdain. But when the witch instinctively took out her wand to clear up the water, he roared at her, 'Put that wand away at once!'

Hermione flinched at the sudden noise. The mediwitch dropped her wand in fright and almost skidded on the slippery floor when she hastily retrieved it. Just as she was bolting for the door, Snape barked out, 'Bandages, I need bandages, or are you not capable of carrying that either? And perhaps the floor also may need mopping unless you desperately want another patient to treat. You are able to mop a floor, are you not?'

The witch nodded, her cheeks flushed, and dropped her eyes. She was soon back with a tray of neatly rolled bandages and gauzes. It took her much longer to wipe the floor over than Hermione thought possible, but at last the floor was dry, and the woman exited the room with a thankful look on her face.

'Unbelievable,' muttered Snape, moving to sit close to her. 'Now let me see what other injuries you have.' Snape unwound the bandaging on her right hand. 'Hmmm, this is more difficult because it is a magic-sourced injury.'

Hermione peered down at the blackened, blistered hand and winced at the sight...it looked as bad as it hurt.

The wizard ran his fingers gently over her hand. 'Can you move your fingers at all?'

Hermione flinched as sharp needles of pain shot up her arm when she moved her fingers infinitesimally.

'That is good. It is not an eating type curse. A burn salve will work.' He turned and opened a large bottle. The throbbing pain in her hand intensified, but she forced herself to stay focussed. Snape moved back beside her and started applying the salve, liberally covering her entire hand. It felt cool and tingly, but more importantly it sealed the burn from the air, and the pain immediately lessened.

'That feels much better...what a relief. I hit his wand out of his hand, but he got me back with the same.' Then Hermione realized, 'Oh, my wand, I don't have my wand.'

Snape started winding a clean bandage around her hand, gently lifting her hand to pass the bandage underneath. 'We will need to do something about that, my lady, but right now you need to stay as far away from magic as possible to allow healing to take place.'

Once he had finished, the tall wizard stood up abruptly and moved away to the single window in the room. He appeared distant and stern. Adjusting his black shirt at the shoulders and clearing his throat, he stated, 'I will need to look at your chest wound, my lady. If it distresses you, I can ask for a female mediwitch to be present.'

'You forget, my teacher, that I am accustomed to the ways of the south. Those are mere northern sensibilities.'

'Ah, yes, my lady, but I thought it prudent to check all the same.' He dropped his eyes to the floor in front of him.

'I'd rather not have anybody else in the room. But I don't want any more pain...it's so bad right now, especially my back

Snape nodded, glancing uneasily up at her. 'I have already examined your back wound. It is the one that will be the hardest to treat. However, I need to prevent any chances of further infection coming from your other injuries and further weakening you. I will give you something more for the pain.'

The wizard walked silently over to the small table and measured out another potion and lifted the goblet to her lips. She drank deeply again, wanting anything to numb the pain. Snape stood and leaned over her, his face impassive, and untied the strings of the hospital gown done up the back. He smelt of disinfectant.

The witch automatically flinched away from any risk of contact with the throbbing pain on her back. 'Sorry, my teacher!'

'I know this is uncomfortable, but I will try not to cause you any unnecessary pain.' He gently eased her arm through the hospital gown sleeve, and Hermione saw him notice her rune tattoo on her forearm. The wizard brought the gown forward, revealing a blood sodden, raggedy bandage running from her sternum to underneath her left breast.

'That certainly needs changing,' she muttered.

'Indeed.' Snape let out a breath and leaned forward to unpick the bandaging. His face was only inches from hers, and she could see his cheeks had the slightest pink tinge to them.

He's finding this difficult, Hermione realized, remembering the Victorian-like modesty she'd encountered at Hogwarts. Oddly, his unease started to flow onto her, and suddenly her left breast seemed very naked. For once in her life, she was pleased she had small breasts, but strangely right now they felt huge. Unfortunately, she glanced at him at the same time as he looked at her and she started to blush. His eyes darted back down to the bandaging again, obviously avoiding looking at her. Ron would have had a field day if he had known the situation she was in now, Hermione thought.

A hot bolt of pain stabbed her, and all modesty vanished in an instant. 'Ow, bloody hell!'

'Just one more piece.' Snape's professionalism came to the fore, and his brow furrowed in concentration. Hermione watched him deftly remove the last piece of blood soaked bandaging, and she grimaced at the dragging around the wound and on her skin. The cut ran like an angry red ribbon down her white skin and under her breast.

Snape contemplatively ran a finger above the length of the wound. 'At least it is clean even if the bandaging was awful. It is a shallow cut, although it starts deeper, higher up. It does not seem to be a magic-sourced wound, which is good, but all the same I need to know what caused it.'

'A knife.'

Snape looked sharply at her, lifting his eyebrows. 'No magic?'

Hermione shook her head and glanced away. Thankfully, Snape must have understood that she didn't want to talk about it as he then casually commented, 'It was lucky you were wearing thick material then; otherwise it would have been more serious.' And he left it at that. Hermione was grateful to him. He had moved to the small table again and was arranging everything carefully on the tray in preparation for stitching the wound up.

Hermione felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over her and shut her eyes. There was the snapping of surgical gloves, and she felt the sting of a needle. Everything was too much; her back throbbed incessantly, and she was so very tired. There was a movement of blankets around her, but she couldn't for the life of her open her eyes again. Hermione felt herself tip thankfully over the edge into oblivion.