Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"...Grim." She was going to kill Harry later for making that joke. All she'd been able to think of were names more suited for pets. Spot, indeed!

Hermione completed the spell and slid her wand back up her sleeve. "Come, Grim." She did her best to make her voice sound harsh. "You have many misdeeds to pay for." She strode off toward the exit, noticing that Harry had made his way through the room already and was waiting for her there. Grim stumbled after her, nearly falling as he tried to keep up.

Ten minutes later, they were out of the Ministry building, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "Harry, I'm going to Apparate us home. Come by tomorrow if you like."

"I'd like that." He bent his head as if to kiss her goodbye, his lips just brushing her ear. "I'll talk to Alastor and see if he has any ideas about how to break this Soulstriking." Then he vanished with a quiet pop.

She turned to her new property. She had to hold him firmly to Apparate with him, but was wary of hurting him any further. Finally she decided that grasping the front of his shirt would do the least damage. Steeling herself, she gripped the coarse fabric and disapparated.

Hermione had given the situation some thought ahead of time. Not knowing what condition Severus would be in when – if – they found him, she'd rented a small house on the outskirts of London. The place had three major attractions for her: the owner didn't ask questions as long as rent was paid, the garden was large enough that there were no nosey neighbors to contend with, and the entire garden was surrounded by a heavy chain-link fence. It was now also heavily warded against unexpected visitors. The caution that had kept Hermione alive and relatively unscathed throughout the Wizarding War carried over into the subsequent peace.

They appeared in what Harry had dubbed the "reception room" of her house, what her parents used to call the parlor. Grim stumbled again, and this time he did fall, measuring his length on her floor. Some part of Hermione's mind noted that he lacked the basic reflexes to try to block the fall; his hands and arms had remained at his sides. He didn't even try to rise. He sprawled inelegantly, one arm twisted beneath him. That nearly undid her; she bit her lip again.

"Grim, get up and go sit on the sofa." Hermione almost couldn't watch as he struggled to his feet, staggered two steps across the room, and slumped down onto her sofa. She took herself to task immediately. There were things that needed to be done, and weren't going to get done if she didn't do them. She needed a plan. Two Accio-s later, she had parchment and quill, and was scribbling out a list. The very first entry was "Bath".

Fifteen minutes later, she'd completed a list of 78 things that needed to be done and looked up. Grim was still sitting on the sofa, exactly as he had been. Only the slight rise and fall of his chest showed that he was alive. She went into the bathroom and filled the tub with lukewarm water. Towels were stacked nearby, as were two bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and a new cake of soap. All ready.

"Grim, come here." He came horribly, with none of the feral grace that had marked his every movement during her years at Hogwarts. "Take off all your clothes, then get in the tub." She was determined to keep this situation businesslike and professional, and not get flustered at the idea of seeing her former instructor in the altogether. "For god's sake, Granger, he doesn't have anything you haven't seen before." She muttered to herself.

He undressed with fumbling motions, dropping shirt and pants onto her clean floor, and stepping out of the canvas sandals. Getting into the tub was more of a challenge, as his bad leg would not take his weight, and he nearly fell again.

"Stop! Sit on the edge of the tub... that's right. Thank god, I've got a tub with a flat rim. Grim, turn sideways a little. Now put your right leg in the tub. Good. Turn a little more. Now put your left leg in the tub..." It took nearly five minutes of step by step commands, but she finally had him sitting in the tub. "I need to get you cleaned up so I can treat your injuries, Grim. I'll try not to hurt you."

It wasn't pretty, but Hermione had seen worse during the war. Grim's back was covered with welts laid out in a criss-cross pattern. Some were old, some half healed, and some relatively new. Overlaying the welts were bruises ranging in color from the yellow-green of the nearly healed to the blue-black of the newly inflicted. More welts and bruises decorated his arms and legs, though his face was left untouched. The human body is capable of showing an astonishing range of color when it is injured.

Amazingly, none of the welts had become infected. The worst injuries were the three cracked ribs that prevented him from straightening up, and the poorly mended break in his left leg. Her temper flared again as she realized that the crippling was deliberate. "Oh, Grim. I wish I knew who did this to you. I'd hex their balls off!"

She consulted her list. "Clothes. Right." In the next moment, she banished the torn and filthy clothing he'd been wearing to the trash, and summoned clean, dry clothes in its place – slippers and flannel pajamas. Once he was dressed, she brought him into the dining room. "Let's see here. I'll have to get you some things to wear during the day, but those will do for right now. Treat injuries..." She decided to wait for Harry to show up for that. He knew more and better healing spells than she did.

"Food – that can wait till Harry gets you put back together..." She considered. "You haven't eaten properly in ages. Anything too rich will probably make you sick. Oatmeal is probably best. Maybe some thin broth."

She jumped as her wards flashed indicating that someone was trying to Floo her. "Stay here, Grim. I'll be right back." She dashed into the kitchen and opened the wards enough to identify her caller. "Harry, oh I am so glad to hear from you." She dropped the remaining wards and he stepped through the fireplace.

"How is he?"

Hermione reestablished her wards before answering. "Someone beat the shit out of him. More than once from the looks of it. He's got some broken bones that never were healed properly. The rest is cuts and bruises." She went into the dining room with Harry following. "And he's been starved."

"Any infections?"

"Not that I could see, but you're better with healing than I am." In her school days, she would've had a hard time accepting being less than perfect at any aspect of magic. Now she realized that she had her limitations. It had been a hard lesson.

"Mmm." Harry ran his hands lightly over Grim's leg. "Nasty break, and obviously left to mend on its own. Lovely." He took out his wand "Iachasgorn." He watched in satisfaction as the bone straightened, becoming smooth again as it should be. "That will mend any other broken bones he had also. These cuts and bruises will do better to heal naturally. Oh, and try to keep him off his feet for a couple of days until the Bone-healing spell finishes."

"Thanks, Harry. I appreciate this. Stay for dinner?"

"Sure. I talked to Alastor."

"And?" She began fixing dinner.

"As it turns out, he's a drinking buddy of Aberon's."

"Aberon? As in the bastard who developed this?" she nearly dropped the casserole dish she was holding.

"The one and same. Calm down, Hermione. You're not going to get anywhere acting before you think."

She took two deep breaths. "Ok. I'll listen."

"It comes in two parts. The first is a potion, a poison of sorts that prevents the part of the brain that controls magic from functioning. The second is a spell that binds the essence of the person... the heart, mind, soul... whatever you want to call it into a container." He grimaced. "The container has to remain intact if you want the person to live. Aberon told Alastor that he wasn't able to get around that restriction."

"Did he happen to mention how to break the spell?"

"Yes."

"Well, tell me already!"

It was Harry's turn to take a couple of deep breaths. "Obviously it's in two parts. You have to counteract the poison, and you have to restore the soul to the body."

She gestured impatiently. "Go on."

"Aberon is brilliant in a sick and twisted way. He reasoned that no one could truly love a convicted Death Eater... at least, no one who would be allowed to buy one."

"Harsh, but probably true. As much as I respect... Grim... he's not loveable." She stopped for a second. "Waitaminute! Are you telling me...?"

"Yes. Only someone who loves him can break the spell. The counterspell is Amor Vincit Omnia. Love conquers all."