Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Snape had always been one to despise chatter, idle or otherwise. The din in the staffroom was thinning his already waning patience.

"Severus, you look like death warmed over."

"Minerva." He nodded slightly, politely acknowledging her concern for his well-being. It had been more than seventy-two hours since he had caught even a few winks of sleep. Finch-Fletchely had been released from the hospital wing the previous day; Miss Granger, on the other hand, remained infirmed due to what Poppy deemed "severe mental and emotional fatigue." The mediwitch, though, he surmised, had other suspicions.

"...untoward. What is your opinion, Severus?"

"Forgive me, Poppy. You were saying?" Snape had been lost in his own thoughts.

"In my professional opinion, I believe Miss Granger is exhibiting signs of more than just mere shock suffered from a traumatic event. She has refused any and all assistance with cleansing and dressing."

"Perhaps she is modest about her body. It is not unusual for young women of her age to have insecurities."

"Modesty and propriety aside, Minerva, she crackled with wandless magic and gave me quite the shock when I tried to remove her soiled robes and clothing." The matron clucked.

"Severus, other than Poppy, you have spent the most time with Miss Granger while she has been regulated to the hospital wing. Have you noticed a difference?" Albus inquired.

"I have seen no difference. The swot had the gall to quiz me on the ingredients of the potions I administered." Lack of sleep took the edge from his usually biting and harsh words.

The headmaster turned toward his Transfiguration professor. "Minerva, as her Head of House, have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?"

The head of Gryffindor set her teacup and saucer aside. "She has been unusually quiet, and according to Irma, has been spending most of her free time in the library." Minerva paused, considering. "But I cannot say that is out of character for Miss Granger. Fourth year I caught her fast asleep in the library near curfew. The child was preparing for O.W.L.s. I said, 'Miss Granger, the exams are a year and a half away; surely preparation can wait until next year?'" Minerva chuckled at the memory. "She looked at me as if I told her classes had been cancelled indefinitely and replied, 'Professor, that is hardly enough time to grasp the methodology, let alone the practical application.'"

Snape snorted.

"And her relationship with Messrs. Potter and Weasley?"

"A bit strained, headmaster, but still thick as thieves."

"How so, Minerva?" Albus questioned.

"With Mr. Potter's relationship with Miss Weasley and Mr. Weasley's association with Miss Brown, Miss Granger has become the proverbial third wheel." Professor McGonagall sighed heavily. "Miss Granger has never been popular amongst the opposite sex, and I believe her involvement with Mr. Krum has run its course."

Snape rolled his eyes, exasperated.

"Something to add, Severus?" Albus queried.

"I fail to see, headmaster, how the romantic entanglements and pursuits of teenaged dunderheads holds any bearing on Miss Granger's perceived condition?"

"Thank you for your input, Severus," the headmaster said dismissively, turning his attention to the school nurse. "Poppy?"

"While I cannot be certain if Miss Granger has been taken advantage of, I think it best to speak with her first before seeking out the assistance of a counselor from St. Mungo's."

Albus nodded in agreement.

****************

Her mouth felt cottony, her head muzzy, and the dull throb of pressure behind her eyes made Hermione wish for Morpheus' sweet kiss.

"Glad to see you're awake."

"Justin..."

She swallowed, her throat parched and her tongue thick and heavy against her film-coated teeth.

"Madam Pomfrey is in a staff meeting." He handed her a cup of water. "She gave me a clean bill of health and released me yesterday."

Hermione gulped the water, its coolness soothing and burning her constricted throat at the same time. The liquid dribbled down her chin, which she unceremoniously wiped away with the back of her hand, dried blood smearing and flaking on her chin.

"What?" she snapped, uncomfortable under Justin's disgusted and scrutinizing stare. She wrapped her robes more tightly against her body.

"Your hands." He motioned to the open and partially scabbed-over wounds covering her palms.

She looked down and offered a nonchalant shrug. "I guess they got a bit scraped up when I fell."

Justin flinched at her apathy. "Hermione, are you okay? I mean really okay?"

"Are you?" she snapped defensively.

"Well, no..." Justin faltered at her abrasive attitude, "but I don't remember much of what happened. Professor Hagrid shielded me..."

"How fortunate for you, then." Hermione sighed. "Please leave me be, Justin." Weariness overtaking her, she burrowed into her pillows.

"'Kay," he managed.

****************

"How is she, mate? Does she want to see us?" Ron bombarded the Hufflepuff with questions as soon as he exited the hospital ward. Harry, Ginny, and Neville anxiously gathered behind the redhead.

A disapproving tsk drew their attention away from the door that hid their friend from view. "Off to your common rooms, the lot of you."

"Madam Pomfrey, we just want to see Hermione. Please?"

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor a piece and five from Hufflepuff," Snape smoothly replied from the doorway.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head, sighing wearily; Severus did enjoy goading his House's rival. Taking her leave, the matron went to check on Miss Granger.

"What for?" Harry demanded.

"For being out after curfew, of course, Mr. Potter." Snape gracefully pushed himself away from the doorframe and causally sauntered into the hallway. "I believe I will also confiscate that invisibility cloak you've tried in vain to hide under your robe." The Potions master indicated to the corner of the enchanted cloak dangling listlessly, peeking out from the boy's robe, brushing against his trainers. "Contraband is forbidden on school grounds." Snape held out his hand expectantly.

"Would you care to make it forty points a piece, Potter?"

"Harry, mate, give him the cloak," Ron pleaded.

"Here," the Boy-Who-Lived grumbled, shoving the cloak into Snape's hand.

"Here, what?" The dark wizard raised an eyebrow.

"Sir," Harry spat.

"Thirty points for insolence."

"C'mon, Harry." Ginny tugged on her boyfriend's hand.

"Bloody nuisances," Snape muttered under his breath once the students were out of earshot.

****************

"Miss Granger, it is nice to see you awake and alert."

Hermione huffed. "If he," she jerked her head in Snape's direction, "would stop plying me with Dreamless Draught..." Her eyes widened at her rebuke. "Sir, forgive me. I dislike being stuck in the infirmary and detest being treated like an invalid." Her cheeks burned in embarrassment.

"Your apology is pathetic, Miss Granger. Five points."

"Severus, really! The child meant no harm," Poppy chided.

Snape harrumphed, removing vials of potions from the inner pocket of his teaching robes. "Headache remedy and Pepper-Up potion," he explained, setting them down on the trolley at the foot of her bed. "No doubt you are suffering from a headache caused by an overabundance of Dreamless Draught in your system, which has induced lethargy."

She nodded, stiffening as the school matron performed diagnostic spells.

"Good news, Miss Granger. Physically, your cuts and bruises have mended," Poppy stated with a swish of her wand.

"But...?" Hermione prompted, feeling as if there was something she was not being clued in on.

"Professor Snape, if you would please allow us to speak in private?"

"Certainly, I shall return later to restock your stores, madam." He bowed, taking his leave.

"Miss Granger, as a medical professional, you know whatever is discussed between us is held in the strictest of confidences."

Hermione nodded slowly, not liking where this conversation was heading.

Poppy pulled a chair next to her ward's bed and sat down. "I understand that you have experienced a traumatic event, and I commend you for handling it as best as anyone could given the circumstances." The older witch smiled reassuringly.

"Does this mean that you'll release me like Justin?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"Not quite yet, my dear. Now, I do not wish to upset you, but may I ask how you are coping mentally and emotionally?"

"All right, I suppose. I'm not sure if I have really processed what happened. That is to say, when I wake up, it feels like there is a weight pressing down on my body..." She took a sip of water. "It's like I can still feel him on me."

Poppy inhaled sharply. "Whom, my dear?"

"Mister Yaxley." Hermione closed her eyes. "I remember hearing pops and screaming. He was so heavy I couldn't move.... I felt wet... I tasted copper... and I woke up here."

"You were distressed and confused. You were adamant that I not tend to you. Professor Snape had to brew an extra-strength Calming Draught to sedate you." Poppy carried on in a soothing tone, "You've not properly bathed in nearly four days. I've had to resort to Cleansing Charms."

"Oh." Hermione looked down at her rumpled and filthy robes, sniffing gingerly at her sleeve, trying to detect any odor.

"Miss Granger, I wish not to stress or upset you further, but your reticence at being examined is somewhat alarming."

Hermione worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Fear clenched in her gut. Oh gods, if Madam Pomfrey... "I'm not sure I understand what you mean, ma'am," she spoke, trying to keep her voice level.

Poppy swallowed. As a Healer, she had been trained to handle many types of situations a patient could befall, whether mental, physical, or emotional; but perhaps in this instance she was out of her depth and a counselor from St. Mungo's would indeed be better equipped.

Hermione's pulsed quickened the lull into silence maddening. Trepidation threatened to steal the air from her lungs. Madam Pomfrey knew. Hermione was sure she knew something.

"Many victims of abuse shy away from touch, as you have, or..."

"Abuse?" She choked on the word. Oh! Relief swept through her. She coughed, a nervous giggle tumbling from her lips that quickly turned to tears. She thought... not the Fealty... but...

"Miss Granger, my dear..." The mediwitch was troubled by her patient's reaction. Poppy summoned a Calming Draught. "Miss Granger, please drink. Just a few sips, and you will feel right as rain," Poppy coaxed.

Hermione violently protested, slapping the bottle away. It flew from the matron's hand, shattering on the floor, shards of crystal scattering about. Poppy summoned another bottle only to have it explode before it reached her hand. The older witch's body tingled with the force produced by Miss Granger's surge of wandless magic.

"Millie!" the frantic woman called.

"Millie's here, madams," the house-elf squeaked.

"Fetch the headmaster and Professor Snape quickly."

Millie nodded, popping out of the infirmary.

****************

"Headmasters Dumbledore, sirs," Millie appeared in Dumbledore's office, wringing the end of her tea towel, "Madam Mediwitch needs yous."

****************

Millie's summons had Snape casting a stasis over the bubbling cauldrons and hurriedly taking the steps of the spiral staircase two at a time. He raced to the infirmary, not prepared for the sight that greeted him.

***************

"Miss Granger, you must calm yourself," the authoritative voice of the headmaster boomed.

Vials of crystal and glass soared through the air, bounding off and smashing against the walls and flagstone.

"I can't breathe." As if proving her point, Hermione gasped for a lungful of air. "Pressure... hurts." She gulped for more air, scrambling from her sickbed to the floor, tangled in the dingy linens. "My heart..." She clutched at her chest, pulling at her robes.

Albus edged carefully toward the girl.

"No, no, no..." Hermione wailed pathetically, frantically pulling at her matted hair, filthy with blood and debris. "Don't touch... No touch..."

Madam Pomfrey waved for Snape to cross over the threshold.

Albus slowly continued his advance, his grandfatherly demeanor doing little to placate his student. "Miss Granger, everything is quite all right. I assure you."

"No!" The word was savagely torn from her throat, sore from crying. "Accio wand!" The familiar piece of wood flew from her bedside table into her waiting hand. She calmly leveled her gaze and wand at the headmaster.

"Expelliarmus!"

Hermione watched helplessly as her wand flew into the outstretched hand of Professor Snape.

The dark wizard took the opportunity while Miss Granger was momentarily distracted to slink closer to her, keeping his lanky form in the periphery of her vision. He waved the headmaster off, whom had begun to circle behind the young Gryffindor.

The Potions professor rummaged in the pocket of his frock, withdrawing a small vial, holding it palm up.

"Drink," he snapped keeping his voice low, as he crouched before his student, placing the potion between them.

"No touching?" she eeked out.

"No touching," he agreed, whispering softly as he uncorked the bottle with his thumb and setting it before Hermione, whose uncontrollable display of raw magic appeared to be slowly ebbing away.

He kept his dark stare level with her red-rimmed, brown eyes.

"Okay." She nodded, snot and tears dribbling down her face. With a trembling hand, she brought the potion to her lips, drinking half the bottle in one gulp. She set the bottle back down, her body swaying, as if caught by a summer breeze.

"Miss Granger," Snape kept his voice low, but his tone deliberate, as if he were lecturing a class of dunderheaded first-years, "would you like to freshen up?" He indicated to the loo's entrance behind her. Millie had freshly laundered clothing folded neatly on a trolley.

Her pupils were dilated, the tension and anxiety fleeing her body as she concentrated to the best of her ability on the man before her. She nodded, staggering a bit as she rose to her feet, slowly stumbling to the bathroom.

When she had gone, Snape broke the silence that had briefly settled over them all. "I would like to perform Legilimency on her."

Poppy squawked indignantly. "You've seen it for yourself, Severus. The girl's obviously been abused, harmed beyond the events that have recently transpired. She's traumatized."

"She will be further traumatized if we preemptively reserve the bed next to Lockhart for her." Snape pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger in a futile attempt to stave off the impending migraine.

"You're hospitalizing me? The Thick-Thickey Ward?" The words tumbled forth, heavy and matter-of-fact. Though she had scrubbed up and changed clothing, Hermione's hair was still a filthy mess.

"No, deary," Poppy cooed. "We just want to see you well again."

"If you permit him, Miss Granger, Professor Snape would like to perform Legilimency," the Headmaster explained.

Hermione nodded her consent.

"Headmaster, Miss Granger is clearly under the influence and cannot consent," Poppy protested.

"Miss Granger, are you still in possession of your facilities and capable of making an informed decision?"

She nodded.

"See?" Albus replied, setting the matter to bed.

"This is unethical!" Madam Pomfrey was brought to heel, quelled by the headmaster's reproachful glare.

"What must I do?" Hermione's speech was slurred.

"If you would please take a seat." Snape gestured to an unoccupied bed.

He patiently waited until she situated herself comfortably, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed.

"You may feel a slight push at your mental barriers," he forewarned. "Please do not attempt to fight my presence. Keep direct eye contact, and I shall endeavor to make this encounter brief and relatively painless."

"Yes, professor," Hermione responded.

"Ready?" He held his wand at the ready.

She nodded 'yes.'

"Legilimens," he annunciated.

****************

Severus found that Miss Granger's mind was as neat and orderly as the library at Hogwarts. All memories and emotions were catalogued in chronological order and then further ordered by whomever was involved in a particular memory. The only disruptions and chaos that he found in her mental filing system contained their recent interactions, and like an old 8-millimeter film reel, had been replayed numerous times. The relief at Poppy's incorrect assumption, her secret, for the moment, still guarded. He bypassed them quickly, grabbing hold to a glimpse of Umbridge that he spied. Severus felt her unease as the Knight Bus chugged along. The apprehension that pricked her skin as she stepped off the bus choked him.

He pushed ahead, bracing himself against Miss Granger's abject terror, the blow of physical pain, at Yaxley landing in a heap of dead weight atop her, and the fragmenting of mental well-being at the thought of her own mortality.

****************

Snape withdrew from her mind with a visible flinch.

"Tired," the girl said, fatigued. She yawned.

"Sleep then," the matron offered, levitating a blanket and covering Hermione, who was already fast asleep. "That wasn't just a Calming Draught," Poppy looked at the Potions master knowingly.

"Half Calming, half Dreamless." He shrugged.

"Well?" Albus prompted.

"She was not assaulted, sexually, based on her reactions and the chaos of her memories. She is continuously replaying the events of Yaxley's murder." He lied, weaving truth and falsehoods into a complex tapestry of reality. "I would presume that Miss Granger is suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder." He let this kernel of information sink in.

"Oh goodness!" Poppy gasped.

"It is a common malady in Muggle soldiers returning from battle," Snape explained further, "or in persons who've experienced an event so horrific their ability to process and move on is greatly hindered, or utterly destroyed."

************

Severus remembered from his childhood his Grandfather Snape, sitting quietly in his rocking chair. He had been five or six years old at the time. A car backfired. He watched as his grandfather, riddled with arthritis, shoved himself out of the chair, hit the deck, and screamed orders at men who were not there, that Germans had his platoon surrounded.

Frightened, he watched his grandmother ease his grandfather from the floor, whispering to him, until he broke down and cried in her lap. His grandmother had poured his grandfather a snifter of brandy and helped him to bed.

Later, she sat with Severus in her lap. He was munching on a freshly baked butterscotch biscuit, explaining that his grandfather served in the First and Second Great Wars.

"Your grandfather saved three men that day. He was heralded a hero." Pride colored her voice. "See here," she picked up a framed photograph from World War II, "so brave he was, the Prime Minister wanted to meet him." Young Severus brushed the crumbs away from his pants, staring at the black and white photograph clutched in his hands. The picture was of his grandfather dressed in full Royal Air Force regalia, shaking hands with a portly, balding, middle-aged man. "That is Prime Minister Churchill."

"But, Grandmother, why was grandfather yelling?"

"Sometimes your grandfather gets a bit mixed up. He thinks he's still fighting in the war. He doesn't mean for it to happen." Clara Snape sighed. "But sometimes something happens to make him forget the war is over."

"Oh." Severus paused. "Like the car today?"

His grandmother nodded. "Or if I drop a dish, but don't you worry." She patted him on the head and gave him a hug. "I think," she whispered conspiratorially in his ear, "that the second batch of biscuits are ready to come out of the oven."

Severus leapt from her lap and bounded for the kitchen.

*************

Snape cleared his throat, coming back to the present. "Psychiatry is often the prescribed treatment."

"Yes," Albus agreed offhandedly. "Poppy, please alert Professor Snape or myself if there is any change in Miss Granger's condition."

"Of course, Headmaster," the older witch agreed.

*************

"Headmaster, I must strongly disagree with your assessment of the situation."

"Severus, you said it yourself. Psychiatry is the best treatment for what is ailing Miss Granger, and as you well know, wizarding kind is woefully archaic in the treatment of mental health, especially something deemed to be a Muggle affliction."

Snape paced the headmaster's office, cagey. "I am quite sure that Mr. and Mrs. Granger are capable of seeing to their daughter's well-being."

"Why worry them needlessly with details? It wouldn't do to excite them into making a rash decision," Albus offhandedly commented.

"Such as removing Miss Granger from Hogwarts?" Snape spat.

"Harry needs Miss Granger," Albus stressed.

"We are not pawns to be moved around a board, old man."

"You would refuse me?" The headmaster looked offended by the younger man's audacity. "Severus, nearly twenty years ago you came to me, begged for your life, and I requested only one small sacrifice on your part...that you serve the Light."

Snape laughed bitterly. "Request? Is that what you are calling it? I didn't know Unbreakable Vows were considered requests. I must brush up on my etiquette of polite society."

Albus ignored his employee's caustic tongue. "There is a doctor in London to whom Miss Granger can speak. She's a Squib. Agatha Morelay."

"With every step I take, I draw closer to the gallows." Snape quoted a long forgotten Muggle poet.

"Do quit with morbid platitudes, Severus."

"I shall when you cease in tightening the noose you've place around my neck."

"My boy, I'm afraid we are at an impasse, then."

****************

A/N: Thanks to all my readers, reviewers, and wonderful beta.

A/N: The information on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder can be found at Wikipedia.org. Just type in PTSD.

A/N: I do not wish to be or come across as callous in regards to the survivors of sexual violence or abuse. Hermione's reaction to Madam Pomfrey's mistaken assumption has more to do with the relief that she feels because her secret is safe (i.e. the Fealty and her "relationship" with Severus) and not to belittle or disrespect anyone who is a survivor of such heinous acts forced upon them.

A/N: The line "With every step I take, I draw closer to the gallows," is of my creation. I suppose I am the Muggle poet, though it does borrow heavily from a quote by Robert Mitchum in the movie Out of the Past. His character, Jeff Bailey, says something to the effect of "Hang my gallows high, baby." It's a great film with Kirk Douglas. I highly recommend it.