Just a kind reminder that this fic uses themes of rape and violence, both of which are evident in this chapter. H.x 

After Severus had left, Hermione had settled herself on the sofa. She was dressed comfortably, no longer caring whether Snape saw her in her pajamas. Her hair was escaping the braid she had teased it into after bathing.

Earlier when she had been changing, Hermione had stood in the mirror in her underwear and stared at herself. There was a long pink scar that ran from the base of her neck, to her sternum. It was a cursed mark left by Antonin Dolohov in her fifth year. The old scar was now complimented by the word etched on her arm that weren't quite healed. Hermione had attempted to do some reading on cursed objects and their effects on the healing process of the body, but had found little to settle her. The skin was closed but the found continued to itch and weep as the scabs caught on her clothing. The bruising between her legs had disappeared but Hermione still felt pain every time she looked down there.

She couldn't shake the feeling that she had been destroyed. Her future had been lost among the myriad of other failed futures of people her age. Hermione had hoped she would be able to get into teaching. Possibly through an apprenticeship with one of her Hogwarts Professors. The idea of becoming an auror was not as appealing to her as it so clearly was to Ron and Harry. She didn't want to be in the limelight any longer than necessary.

She doubted she would even make it to an interview. They would look at her and see what she was. Dirty. Slutty. Everyone would look at her and see only shame. Shame on her. Shame on her family. Nothing would ever become of her because she was burdened with this guilt.

The night plagued her dreams. She replayed the events continuously in her mind, from varying perspectives. At first she was herself. Noting her failed attempts to fight back. Hermione knew deep down that she could have fought harder, dug further and summoned the energy. She could perform a small degree of wandless magic and yet that hadn't even crossed her mind. She had gone pliant and let those horrible men do whatever they wanted. Hermione had let them take away one of the things she solely believed she could base her worth on. Flashbacks of her mother having "the talk" with her was imprinted in her memory.

Then she had started dreaming from the point of view of her attackers. Hermione could feel their hunger, as they looked at her skinny naked body in the same way one might look at a warm slice of chocolate cake. She felt their arousal as they pinned her body to the ground. They each contained an almost primal urge to mate. To spread their seed and procreate. She felt like she couldn't escape from their perverse minds.

The final variation of Hermione's dream was from the point of view of Severus. The man who had stood with his back against the wall and pretended to disappear from existence. She watched, unable to move as her own perk little form was continuously entered and used by the brethren. There was one pinning her down, her arms above her head and her wand no where in sight. The others who were clearly waiting, watched with wide eyes and evil smirks.

Those were the hardest dreams to wake up from. Hermione would often vomit after those dreams and be unable to fall back to sleep.

Settling on the sofa with a book seemed too domestic. Even more so since her graceful host was currently being summoned by a truly despicable force. Hermione tried not to think of him. She knew she would worry herself into the oblivion. There was no chance of sleep tonight. It was futile.

A thunderclap was enough to make her startle. Although, it wasn't exactly a clap of thunder, it was the crack of apparition. The noise had come from the man who had suddenly materialized into the center of the living room and was currently bleeding over his own rug.

"Sweet Merlin." Hermione exclaimed, her book forgotten as she dashed over the to the lump of robes that had landed on the carpet. The mess rolled over and groaned, showing a ashen face that was splattered with blood. For the first time in all her years since knowing him, Hermione realized how old Snape looked. He had to be in his early forties? It didn't matter right now, she told herself, as she watched his form go stiff and his eyes roll backwards without warning.

Forced into action, Hermione knelt by the figure and took him by the shoulders, putting pressure on them she had been taught in muggle CPR class. "Professor! Severus!" She shouted, her gut feeling full of lead.

She couldn't let him die like this. She didn't know where the blood was from, or why he was seizing. Had he been given something? A poison? Had he been cursed or hexed? Hermione placed her index and pointer finger on the mans neck, trying to locate his carotid artery. She found a pulse. It was racing. But it was there.

Blood tainted Hermione's fingers as she placed the palm of her hand on Severus's forehead, finding it clammy. Scrabbling for her wand, and thanking Merlin that she was a witch, Hermione summoned the potions she needed (she was also incredibly thankful that she was in the house of a potions master). The young witch placed a hand at the back of the man's neck, under his mane of greasy black hair, and tilted his head. She poured a fever reliever down his throat, along with a muscle relaxant, a blood replenisher and pain relief potion for good measure.

After a few seconds, Severus's eyes drooped to look at her, although they couldn't seem to focus. "Granger." He wheezed, and Hermione felt her own heart rate begin to slow.

"Sir." She panted. If anyone should walk in on the pair, they would find them in a very curious position. The hard and sharp Potion Master was resting his head in the lap of a student he had never been shy to insult. She stroked his hair, and searched his face for answers as though he was an atlas. "What do you need? Tell me?" She urged.

But it was too late, his head had already lolled and his eyes fell shut. Hermione bowed her head in defeat. The last time she had healed someone was Ronald, when he had gotten splinched. Hermione recalled vomiting into the greenery as her stomach rejected its contents on the spot. At least that hadn't happened this time. But she had still attended to her patient with the utmost urgency, even if she wasn't sure how much he meant to her. Ron had been different. He meant the world to her.

Shaking hands moved Severus's hair from his sweat-slick face. She knew that she needed to look after Severus, she could worry over her feelings later. Reaching up, she grabbed a pillow for the nearby couch and gently replaced her lap with it. With her new found freedom, Hermione began to remove Severus's thick travelling cloak. Rather than forcing it out from underneath him, she simply let it lie open on the floor. She did the same with his robes until he was left with only his frock coat.

The teachers at Hogwarts all wore full wizarding robes, as dictated in Hogwarts: A History. Hermione would resented wearing so many layers for the purpose of fashion. She noted that the blood seemed to be localized to Severus's face and chin. On further inspection, she noted that his nose was not broken and so reduced that he must have bitten his tongue or his cheek.

Hovering her wand over the man's face, she whispered a healing spell, in the hope the the pain would not stir Severus. "Tergeo." She had managed to clean the blood off of his face and robes, leaving Severus looking like he was simply sleeping.

She wondered what to do now. She couldn't leave the man asleep on the floor of the lounge. It would be unfair. He would injure his back and would catch a cold. Hermione considered moving him to the couch that he had occupied each night since her arrival at Spinners End. That seemed unkind. This left one option. She prayed to every deity she could think of that the man would not wake up and find her levitating him up the stairs and into the bedroom.

Once Severus was on top of the bed, Hermione removed his shoes and draped a spare blanket over him. Leaving briefly to clean up in the front room and put away Severus's robes, she retrieved her book and sat in the same chair by the bed that Severus had sat when she was recuperating.

---

The confusion was immense, when Severus had awoken the next day to an irritating and persistent clicking noise. His eyes opened to a haze of bright light, from where someone had neglected to shut the curtains. Curled up asleep on the armchair next to his bed, looking rather like a cat, was the Granger girl. He couldn't help but notice that she was cradling one of his books to her chest. The incessant pecking came from the window, where the Malfoy's owl attacked the pane.

Huffing, Severus hauled himself to his feet and let the creature in, along with a gust of winter air that gave him goose pimples. It landed with a pert caw on his dresser. The letter in its beak was from a concerned Lucius, although Severus had a hard time focusing on the curling letters as the floor began to sweep under his feet, although he was on a boat.

"Give me strength." He groaned, grasping the dresser to keep his knees from buckling.

Suddenly there was an arm around his waist. "Miss Granger." Severus warned, a mere shadow of his former self.

"You look like you're going to pass out, Sir" She replied sharply, and began to guide him back to the bed.

Severus's greasy hair fell into his face as he collapsed onto the mattress. He looked up at the witch, who was still wearing her pajamas and had bags underneath her eyes. "Must you insist on using formalities?" He sneered.

If he were to be honest, he was completely unsettled by being this disabled in front of a student. One of his best students. He imagined himself under the care of Longbottom instead of Granger, and winced. Perhaps his situation could be worse. Plus, Longbottom wasn't as easy on the eye as Miss Granger was. He meant that in a more general term. He was a warmblooded male and was allowed to appreciate feminine beauty every once in a while. Especially when beauty was in its purest form, as she was now.

Hermione seemed unaware of her startlingly casual appearance. It wasn't everyday that witches wore their night things and tended to Severus's every beck and call. Would it make him any less of a decent man to milk this situation for all it was worth? That was certainly what Lucius would tell him to do. In fact, Lucius could probably convince Miss Granger to give him a naked back massage if he played ill enough.

"Must you insist on calling me 'Miss Granger', even though I told you I prefer Hermione?" She countered.

"Very well. I suppose if we should live together, I could call you Hermione." Snape sighed.

"I think it would be acceptable, given that I did wipe your blood off of the living room carpet this morning." Hermione plonked herself into her armchair and looked at Severus.

"Yes. I do apologize for that. I am also grateful that you cleaned me up."

"I owe you my life, Severus. Right now there is very little I wouldn't do for you." Hermione rubbed her temples, feeling a migraine coming on from her sleep deprived state.

"No."

"What?"

Severus sat up in bed, rather too violently and swallowed the vomit that threatened to exude from his mouth.

"You do not owe me anything witch!" He used his index finger to point at Hermione. "There is nothing I have done for you that I wouldn't have done for any young woman who might have found them-self in your situation. What happened to you is one of the worst things that could have happened to anyone. Man or woman. Had it been Miss Weasley or Miss Patil, then perhaps I would not have gone as far as to offer my home, but you also happen to be one of the most wanted people in the world. I had no other option. You were safer off staying with me."

Hermione fiddled a strand of hair. "But what of the times when you protected me at Hogwarts?"

"My goal was to protect Potter. You happened to be his friend. It seemed unreasonable to protect him and not you or Weasley. However much I despise that boy." Severus looked tired. "I made a promise to someone and I fulfilled it. It is incredibly tiring to be in someone's debt and I wouldn't wish it on you, my dear. You do not owe me anything."

Hermione was astonished. "You had better be careful. If I didn't know better, I might have thought that you had a kind side." She teased.

"If you suggest such a thing again, Miss Granger, I would have you extracting flobberworm mucus for my potions." Severus smirked. At least he sounded like his usual self.

Hermione chuckled, unable to believe that Severus Snape had made her laugh. "Don't worry Sir, I think people would sooner admit me to St Mungoes than believe me when I say that you aren't as disagreeable as may seem."

"I quite agree." He said, laying down properly in bed and bringing the sheets up to his neck. Severus inhaled, smelling something warm and feminime on his bed sheets. It was relaxing. It felt like a lifetime since he had slept in his own bed. No matter what the girl said, it was simply improper for him to share a bed with his former student.

"You should get some rest." Hermione said as though she was reciting from a book.

Severus eyed her up and down. "You look like you need it more than I. Although I cannot promise to make it down to the sofa unassisted." He growled as he tried to get out of bed once more.

"No!" Hermione stood and rapidly, reached his bedside in two steps. A firm hand on the man's shoulder coaxed him to lie back down again. "You should sleep in the bed, Severus. I will sleep on the sofa."

"I cannot allow it. You are a lady, you should not be forced to sleep anywhere but a bed." He droned, obviously sleepy.

"You are injured. And I slept on a camping bed for 3 months. I'm sure I can survive a nap on the sofa." Hermione looked at him sternly. With a quick flick of her wand, Hermione shut the curtains and stormed out of the book, her book in hand.

The sofa was about as comfortable as laying on a wooden board. Though the fabric was soft and she had found a knitted blanket to drape over herself. It smelt musky with a hint of something. Rosewood. It smelt homely and it wasn't long before exhaustion took Hermione in its grasp.

_____

By the time dinner had rolled around, Severus was back on his feet and making food. He tried not to make too much noise and wake the sleeping witch in the front room, but something must have disturbed her. He could hear her footsteps lead up the stairs and into the bathroom, and the shower turn on.

He suspected they might argue over the bed again tonight. She would defend that he was unwell, and needed to rest, no doubt. Severus was well enough and believed that he had hogged the bed for far too long than was polite.

Severus had never had a "lady of the house" before. Unless you counted his mother. Although he already lived cleanly, and quite minimally (aside from the hurricane that was his library), since Hermione had lived with him he had made a conscious effort to keep things tidy. With the help of the Malfoy's, the kitchen was well stocked. Something it had not been for most of his life. He also ensured that the dust and cobwebs that had littered the house were vanished, along with the hairs he had left in the shower drain. It was pleasant to see little parts of her dotted around the house. Her shampoo in the bathroom or her clothes in the laundry basket. It was a daily reminder that he wasn't alone

At least not for now.

It would be unfair to assume that Hermione would not leave the moment her freedom was announced. Severus dreaded it. Although it was also unfair to assume that he would survive this apocalyptic war. He wasn't stupid or naive enough to believe that he could continue to deceive The Dark Lord until his undoing. No. Severus Snape most certainly would not make it out of this war alive.

At long last he could be with the woman he loved.

He wondered whether seeing Lily again would be a good or bad thing. He didn't believe in heaven. Nor did he believe that there was a singular place where every dead person went when they corked it. That was more of a muggle superstition in his mind. But Severus knew that he couldn't deal, even if he was dead, with another rejection from that woman.

Severus scowled into his pan of soup, feeling a foul mood that would plague him for the rest of the evening.

Poor Miss Granger.