Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A/N: Again, my undying gratitude to my betas Lariope and Ladyinthecloak. I do not think I will ever look upon the word "that" in the same light. You are both totally awesome. I must also continue to thank everyone who has read and left reviews. This has been a fabulous experience because of you. Irish

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Hermione made her way up the staircase to what used to be her parents' bedroom, her arms laden with the servicing tray her mother had used when she was ill as a child and restricted to bed. This time she was not the one in need of nourishment, but the one to provide it. She viewed the tray skeptically. Just what does one feed a Headmaster who was currently in the form of a werewolf? Hopeful her selection of a rare steak was acceptable, she shifted the tray, knocked on the door and peered around the doorjamb. The site of a wolf wearing a flannel nightshirt suddenly had her chuckling out loud as she was greeted with large twinkling blue eyes. She could not help but say aloud to herself, "What big eyes you have, Professor," thinking back to one of her favorite childhood fairy tales.

The twinkling of Professor Dumbledore, the werewolf's, eyes increased, and a sound that might have been a chuckle, had it not sounded suspiciously like a growl, met her ears. Hermione stepped through the door and took stock of the room. Her parents' room had always brought her comfort with its pale-papered walls and old, cherry-wood furniture. Many mornings she had crept into this room to awaken her parents with all the questions that had plagued her inquisitive mind as she had settled to sleep the night before. In retrospect, many of those questions had reflected the world she now found herself living in. The witches and werewolves from her bedtime stories were now a part of her reality.

"Is that meat I smell?" A voice that sounded like the Headmaster's echoed in her head. With a gasp, Hermione's eyes shifted to the bed. "Yes, Miss Granger, I thought Severus had explained to you that I was still able to communicate."

"Well, yes, he said you were able to communicate," Hermione stammered, "but never actually explained, and I just assumed..." She trailed off.

"You naturally assumed I would converse with you as we normally do," Dumbledore's voice in her head replied. That would be more convenient; however, the anatomical structure of a werewolf does not lend itself to verbal communication. I am able to communicate with you because I am using Legilimency," the voice supplied. "I apologize for having startled you."

"No, it is I who should apologize, sir. Had I thought, I would have realized you would need a different way to communicate," Hermione stated abashedly. "In answer to your question," she continued, "yes, it is meat you smell. I brought you a steak. I hope that is all right."

"It smells most delightful and was a very wise choice," she heard Dumbledore's voice in her head as she moved forward with the tray. "I know this can be a most disconcerting way to communicate, Hermione, but would you mind humoring an old man and keeping me company while I dine? I promise to try not to offend you with my less than acceptable table manners in this state," the voice in her head stated wryly.

Hermione chuckled and sat in the overstuffed armchair her father used to sit in every morning while he dressed for work. The chair was always her favorite and provided her with a small measure of comfort in what were, most assuredly, strange times. "Sir, was there something particular you wished to discuss with me?"

The blue-eyed werewolf looked up at her. "There is, but first, you did agree to call me Albus, and I must insist you do so, as I am afraid I will never be Headmaster again." There seemed to almost be wistfulness to the tone of Albus' voice in her head.

"I will try, Albus."

"Very well; I wish to ask how you and Severus are progressing."

"We have acquired all of the needed ingredients and equipment to continue Professor Snape's experimentation on the Wolfsbane Potion. I am honored he is allowing me to assist him. The work he is doing is positively revolutionary in the field of Potions," Hermione began, almost tumbling over her words in her excitement.

"Yes, Severus is the most talented potioneer of the age, and I am sure you are of great assistance to him," Dumbledore interrupted. "However, I was wondering if he had confided in you how this circumstance came to be?"

Hermione's face flushed at the memory of her time in Professor Snape's sitting room.

"Yes?"

"Well, ss... Albus," she stammered, "he has not really said how it happened, but I do gather he finds himself to blame."

The werewolf's nostrils flared at this pronouncement. "Whatever else, you must believe, Hermione, I do not blame Severus for my condition, and I would, in fact, be dead if it were not for his quick action and continued care."

After Harry, Ron and Hermione had exited the Shrieking Shack to view the memories the dying Professor had provided, Headmaster Dumbledore had removed his Concealment Charm, hoping he was not too late. Nagini's venom had been particularly dreadful and could cause irreparable nerve damage within minutes. He crouched beside the man he had always considered a son, and he had gently lifted his head to administer the antivenin. Dumbledore knew they had to be quick; straggling Death Eaters could be upon them at any moment. Just as Severus had begun to show signs of the potion taking effect, Dumbledore had noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. He was knocked over, losing his wand in the scuffle. Greyback had pounced with a vengeance and was out for blood. At no other time had the Headmaster actually thought he would lose his life in the battle against the Dark than at that particular moment. Then, suddenly, Greyback had fallen over, stiff on the wooden planked floor. Dumbledore looked up and saw Severus with his wand in his hand, blood running down his robes, on his knees.

Severus had crawled across the floor and over the Petrified werewolf to get to the injured Headmaster. He wrapped his arms around the aged wizard and Disapparated them both from the haunted building.

Neither wizard had realized how serious the situation was until they looked out at the night sky. The moon was full and bright. Though night had not yet fallen when Greyback attacked the Headmaster, because it was the day of the full moon, the infection had been complete.

"Severus cared for me and nursed me. He has risked capture many times over in the last few months to provide me with a chance to live. He must not blame himself if a cure is not found in time. I am asking you, Hermione, to look beyond the man he has been forced to portray for the last seven years and save him from himself. No one deserves to live life free of guilt more than Severus. For years he has sought to right the wrongs that came of one mistake in his youth. I implore you to think of all he has done for our world. He has already punished himself more than any court could ever conceive." The voice inside Hermione's head had gone from wistful to pleading.

Looking at the Headmaster with tears in her eyes, all she could do was nod her head in acknowledgment as she removed the now-empty tray from the werewolf's lap.

Hermione spent the next several hours in quiet thought. She had seen the haunted look in Severus' eyes that day at Spinner's End and wondered about it and his almost manic compulsion to find a cure. It all made sense now why he would be so driven to find a cure for Lycanthropy in the coming month when he had been researching for years. Yes, he had made advancements, but would they be able to find a cure? She did not know. And what did Albus mean when he asked her to save Severus from himself? Did he think he was suicidal? Would he take his own life if he failed?

It was with a heavy heart and mind that Hermione made her way down to the basement potions lab.

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The conversation she had had with Albus played through Hermione's mind for the next several days. She found herself watching Severus as they worked (fortunately, he had relented, and they could now address each other more casually). His intensity had not wavered; if anything, it had grown more so as the days passed. She began to notice tell-tale signs of the pressure he was placing himself under. Frequently, she saw him pinching the bridge of his nose as if to relieve pressure, and his eyes had dark circles indicating if not sleepless, then restless nights. It was now just shy of one in the morning, and Hermione was babysitting their latest attempt to modify the Wolfsbane Potion. It was in a tricky phase requiring six counter-clockwise stirs every sixty-six minutes. She had just finished the last rotation when she heard footsteps on the stairs to the basement. Looking up, she saw Severus in the doorway and greeted him. "Could you not sleep?"

With a glare, Severus moved to the workbench not currently in use and sat on the stool, resting his head in his hands. Checking that the timer was set, Hermione sat next to him at the workbench. She had not been this close to him since they had been in his home, though they were living in the same house. Deciding to take a chance, Hermione placed her hand on his upper arm. "Severus, will you not tell me what is bothering you? You cannot continue in this manner."

Startling, Severus gave her a look reminiscent of how he would look at Neville when he had melted yet another cauldron, and Hermione removed her hand, but did not move away. "Miss Granger." At the arch look she gave him, Severus corrected, "Hermione, do you still not understand the ramifications of every failure? Each time we fail Albus is one step closer to death." With this, he jerked up from the table, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

She countered, "With each failure we are also one step closer to success!"

Completely enraged by what he saw as her inability to comprehend, Severus knocked the workbench over and continued to pace in the lab like a caged animal.

Fearful he might accidentally disturb the now-simmering potion that showed promise, Hermione surreptitiously cast a Stabilizing Charm on the other workbench as he continued to pace, growing more agitated by the moment. "Stop!" she shouted, to gain his attention. "If you are not more careful, you will ruin this latest batch with your temper tantrums!"

Shocked at her impertinence, Severus turned to go back up the stairs, away from her infernal good cheer, as he saw it. He had only made it two steps when she grabbed him by the arm, spinning him around with his own momentum. The air almost crackled with the pent-up magical energy being released.

"Miss Granger, if you will kindly release my arm," Professor Snape growled.

"No, I will not! You are going to calm down, and we are going to discuss this like the rational adults we are!" The voice in Hermione's head was now all her own, calling her seven kinds of fool. Am I trying to get myself hexed into oblivion? Wouldn't it be best to allow him to storm off and brood until he was calmer and they could talk rationally?

Glaring the whole time, Severus yanked his arm from her grasp and proceeded to right the bench he had knocked over in his fit of temper. Seating himself on the bench, he raised an eyebrow as if to say, I am waiting.

Hesitating only slightly, Hermione retrieved the other stool and purposefully placed it next to his and sat.

At this action, his other eyebrow raised to join the first.

After a tense few moments, Hermione realized if they were going to discuss anything, she was going to have to be the one to start. Clearing her throat, she grasped for where to begin. "Severus, I do realize how important this potion is and, more importantly, why it is so important to you, but..."

"Do not presume to understand my motives, Miss Granger," the Potion Master snarled. "You have no..."

Interrupting, herself, Hermione continued, "Yes, I do, and I also know if you continue to go on this way, we will fail!" At this, she once again placed her hand on his arm, almost as if she were pleading for him to listen to her words. "I can brew, I can research, I can prepare ingredients, but I am not a Potions master; it is your knowledge and intuition we need."

Again, Severus reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. It was obvious to Hermione he must be suffering from a vicious headache brought on by all of the tension, both natural and self-inflicted. Standing, but not removing her hand from his arm, she moved behind where he was sitting. Cautiously, she raised her other hand to his shoulder. As soon as she made contact, he jerked as if to move away from her touch.

"Relax, I am not going to hurt you," she huffed. "I am only trying to help," she stated as she began to firmly knead the tense muscles in his neck.

"I do not need your pity," Severus snarled, though he did not make to move away from her ministrations.

"That is a good thing, because it is not pity I have for you," Hermione replied.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Why? Because it is obvious you are in pain!" she stated. "I cannot abide anyone suffering when there is a way to prevent it." With that said, she continued with the impromptu massage in silence.

Gradually, under her skilled hands, Severus began to relax. He still could not understand what her motivations were, but could not deny the press and release of the muscles, in his neck, was relieving the pressure that had been building for weeks. Between the worry over Albus, the potion, and not being able to forget that stolen moment in his sitting room, Severus had had little more than a couple of hours rest a night. He was never a kind man and even worse when tired, yet Hermione never shied away from his forbidding temper. Severus had come to enjoy the fact that she would go toe to toe with him.

Eventually, he was slumped over the workbench, his head resting on the pillow of his arms, asleep. When Hermione knew it was almost time for the final six counter-clockwise stirs before the potion could safely be left to simmer, she began to lessen the pressure she was using so as to not disturb the now-sleeping man.

After completing the next steps in the potion, Hermione placed a Stasis Charm on it and looked over at the sleeping man across the room. She still could not understand why she suddenly felt so drawn to him. He was rude, surly and most often a right bastard, but when he was at rest, she could see his potential. Even in repose, his face held lines reflective of the harsh life he had led, though they did soften some. He was not attractive in the normal sense, but still she found herself attracted. In all honesty, she had had a crush on him during her sixth year after she had discovered all he had done to see her and her friends safe. That was why she had been so bitterly disappointed to think he had betrayed the Light by killing the Headmaster. Along with confusion, she had experienced a deep sense of relief to know all was not as it had appeared.

Thinking it might not be wise to touch him while he slept, Hermione softly called his name as she made her way across the room. Her assumption proved correct when he jumped and reached for his wand on full alert. "Severus, it is only me, Hermione; you drifted off." His shoulders immediately sagged into a more relaxed posture. She continued, "The potion is in stasis for the night; shall we head upstairs?"

Severus pushed himself to his feet yet appeared to be a little unsteady as if still half asleep. Hermione stepped up to him, placing her arm around his waist. With only a moment's hesitation, he haltingly allowed his arm to rest about her shoulders. Walking side by side, they ascended the stairs. Passing through the kitchen, Hermione automatically headed toward the guest room Severus occupied on the main floor. When they reached his door, Hermione looked up at him and asked, "Will you be able to get back to sleep?"

Shrugging his shoulders and rubbing his hands over his face, Severus just looked at her; his eyes were flat, void of emotion, but she could see the tension creeping back into the muscles surrounding them.

"I think I can answer that question for myself," she half-chuckled. "Will you let me help?"

"What did you have in mind, Miss Granger, reading me a bedtime story?" The Potions master sneered.

"Must you always be so sarcastic?" replied Hermione with a huff. "Just get ready for bed, and I will check the rest of the house and make sure all is locked up for the night. I will be back in a few minutes." With that, she turned and left the befuddled Potions master to stare after her.

Not knowing why he was doing her bidding, Severus made ready for bed and had just settled the comforter to his waist, preparing to read for the rest of the night when she returned to the door way.

Hermione hoped her face did not give away her trepidation or surprise at finding Severus bare from the waist up. Who knew he was hiding such a toned physique under all those proper layers, she mused to herself. "I am glad this will not become another shouting match. Now, if you will please turn over on your stomach and lie flat," she stated in the most controlled tone she could manage.

"And just why would I do that, Miss Granger, when I intend on reading to research the next phase of the potion?" Severus could not keep all of the curiosity from his voice.

"Not tonight; tonight you are going to get a decent night's rest, and in answer to your question...so I can continue the massage I started earlier in a position more conducive to your being able to relax and sleep," Hermione stated boldly with her arms crossed as if she would brook no argument.

To her amazement, Severus remained silent, but complied with her direction. Turning over, he once again pillowed his head on his folded arms. As she watched him settle in, she uncrossed her arms and made her way over to the side of the bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, her hip brushed his side causing him to shift over slightly to make a space between the two of them. She once again started at his neck and shoulders, kneading away tension that had already reaccumulated. Hermione worked her way down his back, rhythmically pressing and releasing to relieve the knots in his back. From his deep breathing, she could tell Severus had once again drifted into sleep. After about ten minutes, he rolled to his side, facing her, but his face reflected he had only shifted in his sleep, so she continued working her way back up his exposed arm.

She was leaning over slightly to massage his face and temples when the shifting of his arm knocked her off balance, and she found herself lying next to him, his arm pulling her against him on the bed. Looking at his face, she searched his profile for any indication he was awake. She could see he was still asleep as she gently brushed the hair from his face and cupped the back of his head, lightly massaging his scalp until she, too, drifted off, still in his arms.