11: Softer than Indifference

Chapter 11: Softer than Indifference

She felt prickles all over her skin, like when circulation returns after blood has been cut off to a limb. Hermione fought the urge to open her eyes and look at what might be going on, focusing inward instead as the discomfort grew in her hands and feet, along her arms and legs and even on her abdomen. The world seemed to grow large around her, or maybe she was shrinking. She couldn't be sure.

The sound of metal crashing on stone down the hall broke her concentration, and pain seared momentarily along her skin as her eyes blinked open in surprise and she lay panting on Professor McGonagall's office floor.

Muttering something under her breath, the professor marched over to the heavy wooden door, swung it open, and continued into the halls. A moment later Hermione, still breathing hard from the effort she had expended, heard the old woman's voice carry down the hall to the office. "Peeves, leave those suits of armor alone! How many times must I tell you?"

Hermione heard Peeves' sing-song voice in response, but couldn't understand the words. Then the sound of Professor McGonagall's footsteps echoed in the hallway as she returned to her office.

"One of these days that poltergeist is going to go too far. If it hadn't been for the havoc he caused Umbridge..." McGonagall stopped her muttering when she saw Hermione trying to stand on the rug again. Hermione got the distinct impression the woman had forgotten about her student. "That was wonderful Hermione. A very good first try. Any ideas what you were turning into?"

Hermione took the hand up her professor offered her and accompanied McGonagall to the desk, where two chairs sat side by side. McGonagall conjured some tea and biscuits and began to pour out.

"No, Ma'am. I could feel pin pricks on my skin, but I have no idea. I suppose it must have been fur sprouting. Does it always hurt like that?"

After adding a touch of milk to her own cup, the professor smiled and settled into her chair with a smile. "No, the first few times are the least comfortable. I never even feel the hair sprouting on me anymore when I change. And it wasn't fur, Miss Granger, it was feathers."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Feathers. So I'm a bird. What kind, do you suppose? What color were the feathers? I'd like to try it again in a few minutes."

"They were white tipped, some were brown, others more bluish, and it was definitely a smallish bird. But don't be foolish; you shouldn't even attempt it again for at least twenty-four hours. There may be many years between now and the days I was learning my shape, but that doesn't mean I don't remember how exhausting it can be. You might strain your magic if you try again before tomorrow evening. And we're trying an interesting new bit of transfiguration in class tomorrow you'll want to have all your power available for." Her eyes sparkled over her tea cup as she took a sip.

"Really? What are we doing?" Hermione paused with a biscuit halfway to her mouth, curiosity overcoming her.

"You'll have to wait and see."

*****

When Hermione left a few minutes later she felt a bit stronger; the tea and biscuits had revived her somewhat. She cast the Disillusionment Charm on herself, then made her way down the halls to the dungeons, slipping silently into Severus's private quarters.

Before she made a sound to announce herself, however, she heard his voice calling out to her. "It does no good to be stealthy around me, you know. It's not like I couldn't sense you growing nearer for the past five minutes."

Without making herself visible again, Hermione stepped behind him and slid her invisible hands along his collarbone. He shivered slightly when her thumbs touched the skin just above his high collar and she got an interesting idea. "Miss me much?"

"Why would I? You're nothing but a talkative," he paused when her fingers delved into his hair and pulled it back from his face, then one finger traced his cheekbones, "hand waving, know-it-all," he managed to say, though his voice was a bit rough on the last words.

She could feel the desire begin to burn through her, both hers and his as she walked around him and placed her right hand on his chest while her other hand returned to tracing his face and neck contours. The fingers of her right hand slid up and began loosening the buttons of his shirt one by one. Since he was in his own chambers, he had already removed his billowing robes and vest.

"What are you doing? It's bloody irritating to have you invisible like this." His voice didn't match his words, and she sensed his growing arousal. She found the thought of touching him, being able to do as she liked without him seeing her, rather erotic. Based on his response, he did as well.

She leaned in, her chest rubbing lightly against his as she placed her mouth near his ear and whispered, her warm breath blowing across his cheek and ear. "Liar."

Then she kissed him to distract his mouth while she continued divesting him of his clothes. This wasn't what she had come down to do, but she didn't think it would hurt anything to take a side trip.

When they lay in each other's arms in his bed a long time later, Hermione had forgotten what she had come down to tell him, but she hardly cared at this point.

"You know," he said, tracing one finger down her arm, then back up again, causing goose flesh to raise on her skin, "Longbottom seems to be doing better lately with silent charms. Has someone managed to teach him to vocalize silently?"

"Not me. But I do understand he's found a, um, good friend who is taking an interest in helping him with his studies." She was keeping her conjectures about Neville's relationship with Lavender Brown to herself. After all, she might have misunderstood their relationship entirely.

"A 'friend'? I really don't think I want to know anything else. Any help that tragedy calling himself a wizard can get is a bonus."

She pinched his chest. "Be nice."

He grabbed her hand so she couldn't pinch him again. "I'm not a nice person, lest you forget. And Longbottom is far from my favorite person. Though he is a far sight better than your best mates."

Hermione threaded her fingers through his and sighed. She wished the people she cared about could even tolerate each other. Unfortunately it was clear Harry and Ron despised Severus as much as he disliked them. With that thought, she let her eyes drift to the clock on the wall and noticed it was nearly curfew. "I ought to be going."

His hand...attached to the arm beneath her and which had been running over her hair...grasped a fist full of her tresses as his arm tightened around her. He let out an irritated huff of air. "I've turned into such a bloody sap, but I hate it when you go. It never bothered me to be alone before."

With those words he released her and pulled away. He stood from the bed and stalked across the room to the bathroom door. Hermione sat up in bed and watched him go, searching their link for his feelings and finding his conflicted: dread, loneliness, shame, despair, irritation, and a tenderness she had never noticed before. It made her wonder if it had been there for a while and she just hadn't paid attention.

At least she wasn't the only one feeling torn by their relationship.

"I hate it when you use the bond to sense my feelings. I can always tell, you know," he called from the other room, and she heard water running in the sink.

"You wouldn't be able to if you weren't constantly testing my emotions too," she called back to him. She cast a quick cleansing spell on herself so she wouldn't smell like she had just risen from her husband's bed, then began to dress. The fact that he didn't retort to her accusation was all the validation she needed. That realization made her smirk.

"And don't get all high and mighty because you think you know me. You don't. You only see what I let you see." This time the voice was coming from behind her.

Hermione didn't turn around to face him, choosing instead to continue dressing. "I may be young, Severus, but that doesn't make me stupid. I know you don't share yourself with me. Physically, sure, but not who you are on the inside, what you think and feel. Our diary conversations only go so deep into your real history. If it weren't for the bond, I wouldn't know you had any feelings softer than indifference."

"Everything is softer than indifference, wife. Even hate. Hate isn't the opposite of love, apathy is. To hate, one must feel something about the person or set of circumstances. Apathy requires only the absence of feeling." His voice was cold and impersonal.

Hermione turned to face him. He still wore only his birthday suit, and she was now fully clothed, clasping her robes at her throat. "So last year when you were thoroughly irritated by me, but barely noticed Zabini existed, you were actually showing that you held a soft spot in your heart for me? Even then? What would the Headmaster say?"

Severus snatched her shoulders and pulled her to him, commanding every inch of her attention with his mouth as it plundered hers. When they came up for air, Hermione couldn't remember what they had been discussing anymore.

As he turned and stalked back to the bathroom, she heard him suggest someone do something she thought most likely anatomically impossible, though her brain was far too fried to figure out who he was referring to or why.

She all but floated back to the Gryffindor common room where Harry and Ron were hunched over their History of Magic essays.

"Hey, Hermione. What was the third reason the dragons were cordoned off from Muggles in 1734?" Ron asked, scratching his head with the hand holding his quill and getting black ink in his hair as he did so.

"Haven't the slightest. Goodnight boys." She floated up the stairs, feeling their confused gazes following her.

*****

May was drawing to a close and O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s were approaching. Severus was growing more and more anxious as the days passed, wondering if Draco would manage to accomplish his assignment, or if Severus would be forced to do it for him. The Headmaster was growing weaker everyday, and Severus was brewing stronger pain potions for him every week to keep on top of the growing infirmity.

It was amazing how easily Hermione fit into his life. Having her emotions humming in the background of his mind had grown familiar, comforting, almost. He blamed the Amoriata for the comfort he found in her presence, but he knew it was actually far more than that.

In addition to the comfort he garnered from their physical contact, the sexual release, he found he enjoyed debating Potions theories with her, Defense techniques, discussions on current events and Arithmantic equations. Her Occlumency would never be as good as his, but she was doing very well with it and, unless presented to the Dark Lord himself, Severus was confident she could protect her mind from prying eyes.

Her Legilimency skills were coming along as well, and when he would have to leave her, he was certain she would be able to make some headway on training Potter and the other Order members.

That thought brought him back to the issue of Draco's assignment. He treasured every moment alone with Hermione while the chance lasted before events unfolded. On the other hand, the growing tension on when and how Draco would act was driving him crazy, as the prat still wouldn't trust him.

Severus was correcting assignments in his quarters, and Hermione was in the library preparing for end-of-term exams when his Dark Mark flared to life. He glanced toward the Pensieve sitting behind a charmed wall where he had stashed his most damning memories of his time with Hermione. It had been too long since he was last called, and Severus had been prepared for such an eventuality.

The gathering was a large one, he realized, as he appeared in the darkness. Dozens of Death Eaters milled around the outskirts of the Dark Lord's inner circle. From time to time one or another would be called forward to report on whatever their master had assigned them.

The Dark Lord had been asking for frequent updates on Severus's progress with Hermione and had been shown several scenes that the megalomaniac found enlightening. The false information Severus and Hermione had planned for the evil leader had not been as useful as the Dark Lord would have liked, but as Hermione was letting more information about Harry and his state of mind 'slip' to Severus in their encounters, he had been lenient so far.

Soon Severus was called forth and asked to report. After showing the Dark Lord his memories, Severus stood tensely. In the past week, he had barely found time to sneak more than a few kisses with Hermione, their respective schedules had gotten insane with the end of the year drawing close. Severus looked forward to the next night, Friday, when he expected to have Hermione to himself for several hours.

"Severus, your relationship with the child has gotten interesting. She seems to trust you utterly and to be completely wound in your web of deceit. It will be interesting to see how far she is willing to go to see you this summer."

Bowing his head, Severus blocked out thoughts of what the summer might bring. "My Lord, I trust she will find a way to see me still. Her Muggle parents are naïve and permissive, and she is a witch of age." The fact that the young witch was his wife was a closely held secret. The Dark Lord would not approve, and the truth getting out could be the death of both husband and wife.

"See that you keep her on a leash, Severus. Your information from the Order is mediocre at best. Do try to improve your usefulness to me. I find you lacking." The leader swished his wand and sent a silent hex at Severus, one that cut a gash in his shoulder, causing it to bleed from a long wound.

With a bow, Severus backed away from the dark leader, gritting his teeth. After nodding to several others, he Disapparated back to the castle.

Severus wadded up the edge of his robe and pressed against the bleeding wound as he trudged up the hill to the castle. He pushed back the door, feeling weak from blood loss and tired of it all. A slight shimmer in the air that seemed to approach him was his first clue that Hermione was waiting for him. Then he realized he had felt her in the entrance all along but hadn't registered it over the pain.

Hermione pulled him into the nearest room and wordlessly pried his bloody hand away from his shoulder. Still under her Disillusionment Charm, she inspected the wound with her fingers, then pointed her wand at the cut, murmuring a healing charm. After a quick cleaning charm she inspected the bared flesh, seemed satisfied, then slid her arms around his waist drawing him closer.

Only then did she address him. "I felt the hex, figured this was the best way to help you tonight."

Severus tested the muscles in his shoulder and found she had done a good job before wrapping his arms around her and resting his cheek on the top of her head. He whispered, "Finite Incantatum," and her charm melted away. "Thank you."

"Was it horrible?" she asked as her brown eyes bored into his.

"Not so bad this time." Still, he tightened his arms around her, drawing in her sweet scent that filled his head and chest with heady comfort. "I wish you could come down to my room tonight."

She nuzzled his neck with her lips, sending shivers down his spine. "Perhaps I could. After all, I did claim I had to look something up in the library. Perhaps I could go up in the morning, rubbing my eyes and saying that I fell asleep over my books. But really I could fall asleep over you."

At that moment, waiting until the next day to hold her in his arms seemed as impossible as it was unnecessary. Though there was a niggling voice in the back of his mind saying he ought to send her back to her own bed, he didn't want to listen. He wanted her with him, even if all they did was sleep.

Murmuring the Disillusionment Charm to cloak them both in obscurity, he backed off, then took her hand and led her down to his rooms.

_______

AN: A big thanks to robisonrocket for correcting this chapter. Next up: The Castle Under Attack