A Likely Story

Chapter 12 of A Likely Story

To everyone's vast surprise, Christmas dinner went off without a hitch. Of course, Molly had told only Hermione about the calming charms she'd placed on Harry's chair, and her rather bold move in putting him beside Tonks, who Molly was sure had been looking sideways at him in recent weeks.

Hermione returned to her more-than-hectic class schedule feeling rejuvenated in a way she'd never expected. The first letter from Severus arrived on her second day back. She wrote back to him immediately. As the term wore on, she found that she wasn't nearly as tired as she'd been during first term. She shook her head at the realization, wondering how much of her fatigue had come from missing Severus. Writing to him regularly, and visiting at Hogwarts on the odd weekend meant more than even an expressive Gryffindor like herself was willing to admit just yet.

Towards the end of March, Hermione had several term papers coming due again. She suffered through the last weekend of the month in Geneva's vast library, trying to get them all done without having to turn back time. She laughed at herself a bit. By the time she finished college, she'd probably be Severus' age anyway, and Harry would have to just shut his trap.

Things with Harry had been bad. At the few Order meetings she'd managed to attend he'd been nothing short of disruptive, questioning nearly everything Severus said. Hermione regularly found herself spouting Potions class theories to him in Severus' defense, which didn't improve his attitude at all. In a letter from Ron, she'd heard that he had finally gotten around to asking Ginny out and had been told that she was seeing someone else and wasn't interested in Harry anymore. Hermione supposed that was a big part of his problem at the moment. She was thankful that letters from Harry were few and far between.

When she returned to her dormitory around 8:30 Monday morning, fully intending to turn back her entire weekend and sleep through Saturday and Sunday while she'd been in the library, she was distracted by the sight of Pig, rocketing around her dormitory. Several things were already broken. She was beyond tired and didn't have much patience for Ron's eccentric owl at the moment, so she snatched him out of the air to remove a short bit of parchment from his leg. Pig didn't mind, having been treated that way by Ron for years.

Hermione -
Potions accident. Come to Headquarters immediately.
-Ron

Hermione blinked twice at the words on the page. They seemed to swim together a bit. Then she swore and hurried through to her bedroom, rapidly packing an overnight bag. She decided to let Warrington know that she'd be gone after she had some more information to give him. Or perhaps Minerva had already owled him. If not, she could always ask her to do so later.

She arrived at Grimmauld Place in time to hear a rare thing. The Headmaster was bellowing.

"I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!"

"You're firing me then?" she heard Severus respond, his voice dangerously quiet.

"If that is what it will take to keep you out of harm's way, then YES!"

Hermione decided this would be a good time to interrupt, and ran upstairs and into the bedroom they were occupying. She was much too upset to bother just now about what kind of attention Severus would or would not care for. She sat down gingerly beside where he lay and leaned over to run her fingers through his hair, trying to get an idea of just how much of him was bandaged under his thick blanket. The men had fallen silent at her entrance, though Severus was still glaring angrily at Albus, whose face had taken on a rather amused expression. "What's happened?" she asked worriedly. "Are you alright?" Then, when he turned his eyes to her, about to respond, she pulled her hand back out of his hair with a grimace she didn't think to hide. "And what's happened to your hair?"

She had apparently forgotten that the 'greasy git' comments had been thoroughly justified. He couldn't help but smirk at her. "If it hadn't been for the flame repellent grease, my hair would have caught fire and my whole face would have been burned, rather than just my neck and shoulder and hands. Isn't that right, Headmaster?" He turned his eyes back to Albus, and Hermione was surprised to see that they both looked amused.

"Indeed, we are all glad that you put safety above vanity, Severus," Albus answered solemnly, his eyes dancing with mirth.

"You mean all these years you've put that stuff in your hair on purpose?" Hermione asked, wrinkling her nose. Both men laughed out loud.

"Indeed, Miss Granger, and he used to insist that all his students did so as well. I believe it stemmed from a rather - er - explosive Gryffindor/Slytherin potions lesson in his youth. Unfortunately not everyone is as disinterested in their appearance as Severus, and with all the complaints, I had to make him relax the rules."

Severus was scowling again, but it seemed half-hearted to Hermione, who ran her fingers through his hair again anyway, making his expression soften even further. "What happened?" she asked again.

As the story unfolded, Hermione found herself growing more and more angry. Nathaniel Travers, a fourth year Slytherin whose father was a known Death Eater, had determined that the bounty on Severus' head was worth being expelled for. He'd purposely blown up his cauldron while Severus was inspecting it. He hadn't counted on the Gryffindors in the room, along with most of the others in his own house, dousing the Professor with the correct chemical powder to suppress the magical flames. It seemed they HAD been paying attention to his lecture, after all. Severus revealed to her later that part of the reason he was so adamant to return to his classes was to ensure that each of those who'd remembered the correct procedure would be given full marks.

But Albus was hearing none of it. For all intents and purposes, Severus Snape was now out of a job. He was no longer a spy. He was no longer a professor. And he found himself, as Sirius had been before him, confined to the depressing ancestral home of a dark family as old as his own. He consoled himself primarily with the thought that at least it was not Snape Manor. Oh, and one other thing made it a bit better for him than it had been for Sirius. Hermione had been granted special permission from Warrington, who'd not hesitated to blackmail his colleagues into letting him be her staff advisor, to skip a few weeks of classes to stay with him. (As usual, she was so far ahead that it made little difference.) As he could barely turn his head or sit up without help, he was very appreciative, not that he had any intention of saying so.

Three days after she moved back into Grimmauld Place, word came by way of their anonymous spy that Travers was dead. No one bothered to question Albus on how exactly it had come to pass, and he offered no explanation.

Each morning, Hermione arrived in Severus' room with fresh bandages, dropped off by Madam Pomfrey the night before. The first day, he was startled, and quickly rearranged his coverings, pulling them up to his chin as she blushed and grinned. "I thought I was the modest one!" she teased gently. "You're going to have to lower those so I can put the burn compound and new bandages on, you know."

Severus scowled convincingly. He'd been picking at the tape to remove the bandages himself when she'd entered. He had no desire for Hermione to see the extent of his burns. Frankly it was humiliating that she felt it necessary to take time off school to 'take care' of him. Conscious of their discussion about disclosure, he told her so.

"And Albus thinks you aren't vain!" was her only response as she gently pulled the covers down to his navel. She fought hard not to dwell on the sight of his exposed chest. It was, after all, the most she'd ever seen of him.

She kept the air of a consummate professional as she applied the numbing and healing potions to his burns, massaging them into his neck and shoulder with feather-light touches. Madam Pomfrey had warned her not to press too hard. So long as the skin didn't shift, he was expected to heal with minimal scarring. That complete, she reapplied the bandages and moved on to his hands. For this he was grateful, as the sensation of her touch at the edges of his wounds was beginning to make him uncomfortable.

"Now how did you get these off?" she asked. The bandages on his hands had been removed completely. He'd thrown them to the floor on the other side of the bed where no one would see them, not realizing that he was going to be watched quite so carefully. He didn't answer as she took first his left hand, then his right, and gently applied the potions to them as well. He watched her the entire time in silence. When she was finally satisfied that he wouldn't feel any discomfort until it was time for tomorrow's treatment, she wrapped his hands again. "They were a bit useless the way Poppy wrapped them. How's that?" she asked, holding up his bandaged hand, which was much less bulky than it had been the day before. At least now he'd be able to hold a book. With practice he might even be able to turn the pages. He looked away in disgust as she finished with his other hand.

"You're not talking again. Are you upset with me?" she observed shrewdly, inwardly wondering why they couldn't get along as well in person as they had in letters the last few months.

"No. Only frustrated. I do not deserve all this." He gestured helplessly with a bandaged hand, his eyes still averted. After all that he had done in his lifetime, he had never hoped for the kind of gentle attention she was giving him. Hermione regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before responding.

"Life isn't about what we do or do not deserve. It's about what we can do for those we care about. I can do this for you. I hope you'll let me." Severus looked at her for a long time, his lips parted to speak. In the end he found nothing to say. The topic was never mentioned between them again.

That's not to say, however, that Severus didn't struggle with it. Harry Potter made sure of that. It seemed he had also come to the conclusion that Severus was not worthy of such attention. While Hermione busied herself in the kitchen with Molly, he went out of his way to stop by and point out to Severus his newfound uselessness to the Order. Severus found that he could ignore the comments so long as he kept his mind focused on the sensation of Hermione's hands running over his shoulder. Naturally he never mentioned the taunting to Hermione. Eventually Harry would get bored with his lack of response, and leave.

This strategy worked really well for about the first week, until Hermione, bringing Severus his lunch, overheard a particularly nasty exchange. "Enough, Potter. I am not so useless that I cannot lift my wand, and this time you've overstepped your bounds."

"Frankly Snape, you aren't scary, lying there like one of Hagrid's flobberworms caught by a stray engorgement charm. And it's not like I'm wrong. Doesn't it irk your pride at all to have Hermione feed you? She could be spending the time researching spells for the Order, or practicing hexes so she can defend herself - you know she'll insist on fighting when the time comes. You're not only useless, you're a burden on everyone else as well." As he spoke, Harry took several steps into the room, unaware that Hermione entered behind him, a rare look of fury on her face. She set the tray down on the nearest desk silently, then slammed the door behind her with enough force to knock a mirror off the wall. It shattered loudly. Harry had already turned, wand in hand. He lowered it when he saw it was Hermione - his second mistake of the day. He was silenced instantly. She watched his lips move with a smirk on her face.

"You've said quite enough already. You might as well put your wand away. It'll be useless now." Already beyond rational thought, she forgot what Ron had written to her about Harry's resiliency when it came to hexes these days. While she tried to come up with the words to explain her anger, the hex wore off, long before it might have on anyone else. By the time she was ready to speak, tears of frustration were pouring down her face. Severus, upset that she'd had to hear Harry's accusations, which he privately thought were true, kept his silence with difficulty.

"How could you say those things, Harry? Wasn't it you who thought Severus was so awful for saying exactly the same things to Sirius? Wasn't it you who laid the blame at his feet when Sirius left the house and was killed? If you know that's what comes of those taunts - "

"I know exactly what comes of them," Harry said coldly. "As soon as he's out of bed, I hope he DOES go. I hope he goes right back to Hogwarts and gets his head taken off by an exploding cauldron!"

Hermione's tears stopped abruptly and she looked at Harry as though she'd never seen him before. There was a long silence before her voice came in a harsh whisper, as though it was the only way to contain her anger. "If you really mean that Harry Potter, then you are no one I want to be friends with anymore."

Harry's lower lip trembled visibly as the realization of what had just happened sank in. He hadn't meant it. He really hadn't. He'd only said it because he felt like Severus ought to know what he'd put Sirius through by acting that way. Obviously he'd gone too far. His eyes locked on Hermione, and he never noticed the confused expression on Severus' face as he tried to grasp the idea of a Hermione who wasn't friends with Harry Potter. But her tone had been definitive.

Finally, Harry dropped his head, a huge tear rolling down his cheek that Severus knew wasn't affected. "I don't mean it," he said at last, wiping at his face viciously. "I just wanted - I only thought he ought to know what it felt like -" Then, after another long pause, "I didn't mean it," he whispered. A moment later he was gone from the room, and they heard his bedroom door slam and lock forcefully. It was several minutes before Hermione could tear her eyes from the empty doorway. When she did, she picked up Severus' tray and brought it to him. He'd long since been able to feed himself, thanks to the thinner bandages he now wore, but she seated herself beside him anyway, not sure what she could say to dispel the despair that seemed to permeate the room.