Ordinary People

One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies---

Hermione's first thought upon opening her eyes was that it felt as if she had a hot knife poking into her side. Her second was that it was incredibly dark, wherever she was.

She probably wasn't dead, she eventually concluded. Death probably didn't involve quite this much pain, and it wouldn't smell like antiseptic, besides. So, she was alive. Alive and ostensibly in a hospital or infirmary of sorts, given the sterile scents currently tickling her nostrils.

What had happened, anyway? She remembered Voldemort in the woods and the rain. And her blood. But then, there was nothing but an odd sort of darkness and a nagging sense that she ought to know what had happened. At least, given that she was tucked into a warm bed as opposed to her last memory of cold mud mixed with hot pain.

With a little snuffling sort of sigh, Hermione tried to stretch, stifling a cry as her side protested vigorously.

"You're awake," a male voice said from very near by. He sounded halfway between amusement and relief.

"Severus?" she asked cautiously into the darkness. She noted that her voice sounded quite rusty and more than a bit tight with pain. "Is that you? Where are we?"

He chuckled. "We're in the Infirmary at Hogwarts, my dear. You've given everyone quite a scare."

"Why?" she continued to ask. "What happened? Well, after, you know ..."

"Potter and I managed to get you back to Hogwarts by Portkey," he said, a rustling noise emanating from roughly the same direction as his voice. "You almost died, by the way. And I would appreciate it if you wouldn't do that again."

"I'll try," she replied sleepily. "Why can't I see you?"

"It is late, Hermione. Or early, depending on one's perspective, I suppose. After four in the morning. You've been unconscious for a little more than two hours." Another rustle of cloth against cloth.

"Are you hurt, Severus?" she asked suspiciously. "Are you in a bed of your own?"

He coughed a bit. "I'm fine," he said in such a way that suggested that he might have already had this argument several times this evening. "I was hit by a small hex, but Poppy fixed it in less than ten minutes. For some reason, she's insisting that I stay under her observation for the rest of the day."

And there was another voice she wanted to hear. "Harry?"

His reply was snide at best. "Potter persists in being annoyingly healthy. Once Poppy mended his broken arm, Albus snatched him off to his office for further details. My only consolation is that I am well aware of how few details Potter actually knows. The castle is in quite an uproar, I think."

"Uproar?" she echoed, feeling sleep tug at her once more.

"We Portkeyed back into the middle of the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione," he said. "It was rather difficult to escape anyone's notice. I thought, however, that you might appreciate that Argus Filch came in here personally about an hour ago to complain about the mess we tracked through the halls. Well, that I tracked through--you were too occupied with unconsciousness and bleeding to death to manage walking successfully." He wasn't quite able to convey his usual sarcasm as he spoke.

She awoke only slightly. "'M'sorry, Severus," she mumbled.

"So am I," he replied quietly.

He might have said more, but she fell back asleep before she could hear any of it.

----------

The next time she woke, it was to a pair of rather loudly arguing voices. The female seemed rather more agitated than the male.

"Albus, I will not allow you to do this," the female protested. "That poor girl almost died not twelve hours ago, and you want me to wake her up so you can interrogate her? I put my foot down!"

"Poppy ..." the male said in a rather tired voice.

Ah ... Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey. Probably Dumbledore wanted to ask her and Severus about last night, and Pomfrey was throwing her customary fit.

Hermione considered this for a brief moment. Would it be better to allow Pomfrey her victory and face questioning later? No ... probably best to talk about it now. Putting it off would only make it worse. "I'm awake," she said faintly in an attempt to catch someone's attention.

Opening her eyes, she saw a concerned Pomfrey and a rather stern Dumbledore both looking in her direction with startled eyes. "You see, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked rhetorically. "She's fine."

Madam Pomfrey literally swelled. "She is not fine," she retorted, swooping down on Hermione and starting to poke and prod her in various places. "This girl has been through a severe trauma and ..."

"Why do I hurt so much?" Hermione asked the mediwitch very quietly, hoping the headmaster could not hear her query.

She clucked, placing a hand on Hermione's forehead. "You were on the receiving end of a strange hex--I wasn't able to heal you magically very successfully. But in the end, stitches worked just as well."

"Stitches?" she asked, alarmed, twisting and wincing simultaneously.

"Sit still, child," Pomfrey scolded. "Yes, stitches. I couldn't very well let you bleed out, now could I? And the usual binding spells and potions weren't working. I don't know as much about Muggle medicine as I'd like, but I do know that you won't want to be moving around much for the next few days. Once your wound has properly knitted together, I'll pull those out and you'll be riding broomsticks before you know it."

"I hate flying," she complained good-naturedly with a small smile.

"And there's that mouth," Severus said irritably from the next bed, eliciting starts from the room's other occupants. "You must be feeling better."

With more mutterings, Madam Pomfrey moved over to his bed, performing the same checks she'd just done on Hermione and openly smiling at his deepening scowl. "You're exhausted, Severus," she said briskly. "I still want you to stay here today. And stop looking at me like that! You're acting like I've just asked you to drink bubotuber pus."

He grumbled something Hermione couldn't make out.

"Now, Severus, you know as well as I do that's anatomically impossible," Pomfrey replied breezily. "Not to mention the fact that Albus' grandfather has been dead for a good, long time."

She couldn't help it--Hermione giggled, frowning as the action caused the throbbing in her side to intensify. Severus' glare deepened, although whether at her laughter or her obvious resulting pain, she wasn't entirely sure.

Dumbledore smiled at his professor indulgently. "They're both awake, Poppy," he said, impatience clear in his tone. "May I speak with them now?"

"Albus ..." Pomfrey tried once more.

"Poppy," he said sternly. "I insist. Half an hour. Then you may return and ply them with chocolate and poke at them 'til your heart's content."

Huffing slightly, Madam Pomfrey walked out of the Infirmary, giving the door a solid slam upon her exit.

With a lazy wand flick, Dumbledore Summoned a chair from across the room and placed it in between Hermione's and Severus' beds, seating himself carefully. "I hear it was a rather exciting night last night," he said.

Severus coughed and regarded his coverlet with overt interest. Unsure how to respond, Hermione just plodded forward. "Erm, exciting, yes," she stammered.

"In fact," Dumbledore continued in the nearest thing to a drawl she'd ever heard him use, "I saw the evidence of your little, ahem, adventure for myself. Young Harry Potter escorted me to Godric's Hollow earlier this morning. We couldn't recover the Portkey he'd been sent, however. I do wonder what became of it. And that is the earliest point in your tale, is it not?"

Shrugging a little, Hermione toyed with the sleeve of her gown, wishing she could sit up further but unsure how to go about it without ripping her stitches. "We'd just finished our last NEWT," she started uneasily. "Harry, Ron, and I, that is. And we'd gone back to the Common Room--it was too early for supper. And an owl brought Harry a package from Mrs. Weasley."

"Strange," Dumbledore said noncommittally. "And it didn't occur to you that it might be a trap?"

Momentarily forgetting that she was talking to her headmaster, Hermione rolled her eyes slightly. "Of course it did," she retorted. "And especially when Harry opened it and that little puzzle box was inside, but--"

"What?" Severus interrupted incredulously.

Oh, yes, Hermione thought to herself. In all of the fuss, she hadn't managed to tell Severus that she'd found his puzzle box. Giving him an apologetic look that she vaguely hoped Dumbledore didn't notice, she continued. "A puzzle box," she enunciated. "Small, round, with a rather pretty design on the top. And Harry reached in to take it and disappeared."

His hands whitened on the coverlet. "Malfoy," Severus breathed in a dangerous voice.

She was at least as confused as Dumbledore looked. "Excuse me?" Dumbledore finally asked.

"Draco Malfoy," he explained. "Some months ago I caught him down around my office for no apparent reason. He was hiding something in his sleeve. Not long after that, I noticed that the little box I keep on my desk had gone missing. It was a puzzle box that my uncle gave me years ago. Malfoy must have stolen it and enchanted it to be a Portkey to take Potter to You-Know-Who!"

Hermione's jaw dropped, but Dumbledore actually looked irritated. "Really, Severus, just because you don't care for Lucius Malfoy is no reason to accuse--"

"Albus, Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater. One of the Dark Lord's most trusted servants. Me not caring for him is rather inconsequential," he replied tightly.

"Lucius Malfoy is also beside the point," Dumbledore said. "It is Draco that you are blaming. A student, Severus. A child."

Severus' eyes widened slightly and his nostrils flared, gaze a mixture of hurt and anger. "Albus, I saw him with my own eyes!"

"Then why did you not come to me immediately?" Dumbledore asked hotly. "If you were so certain that Draco Malfoy was up to something."

"I didn't know exactly what he was doing," Severus admitted. "I did not want to make unfounded claims."

"It seems to me, Severus, that is exactly what you are doing right now. Unfortunately, it is the word of a student against yours." But Dumbledore did not sound quite as sorrowful as his words would otherwise indicate. "A student who has never been a major disciplinary problem and who you have often called a credit to your House."

Severus looked dumbfounded and Hermione wanted to wrap her arms around him in comfort. "Albus, you know that I was forced to say ..."

She decided to throw in her own two Knuts, as well. "Professor Dumbledore, Malfoy provokes a Gryffindor at least once a week. He hasn't called me anything but filthy names since we were in our second year."

Softening slightly, Dumbledore did not seem to be convinced. "While perhaps a misguided child, Draco Malfoy still has a fair amount of maturing ahead of him. I will, of course, address the matter appropriately if he comes to me, as I expect you to, Severus, if he chooses to speak to you."

With a slight nod, Severus' face clearly expressed his opinion on the notion of Draco Malfoy ever approaching him on such a matter. Hermione, for her part, did wonder briefly how one would go about initiating that conversation. I'm sorry, Professor, but I tried to send Harry Potter to his death at the hands of a sadist recently, just didn't have a ring to it.

In a clear dismissal of the point, Dumbledore chose rather to continue the narrative. "So, Miss Granger, Harry disappeared," he prompted.

"And then Ron and I went to tell you, sir," she said.

"At which point I seem to recall telling you to go back to Gryffindor Tower and wait," he said pointedly.

Hermione bowed her head. "I tried," she said. "But then I got to thinking about something I'd read lately in an old book." Thinking fast, Hermione tried to come up with a way to explain her extracurricular activities without going into great detail. "A ritual, you see."

"Yes," Dumbledore replied. "Harry did mention that you asked him to read something off a piece of parchment that he, regrettably, subsequently misplaced. This, apparently, is what caused Voldemort's rather surprising demise."

Her fingers began plucking at her coverlet anxiously. "It's an ancient ritual. I found it referenced in some things I was reading, and then I happened to stumble across a full account."

"I am unfamiliar with such a thing," he replied.

She shrugged. "It hasn't actually been in use for centuries. Not since the advent of the Killing Curse, I imagine. But it's very simple--if the blood of an enemy is freely shed and an incantation spoken, the enemy dies. Body and spirit."

"Body and spirit?" Dumbledore asked mildly.

Her discomfort increased and she noticed that Severus' hands were clenching his blanket for dear life. "Well," she began, wondering how to phrase her theory. "All the Killing Curse does is stop your heart. Kills the body. Voldemort's spirit endured after he was hit with it before and that's how he was able to come back, I think. But Iustus' ritual, that's blood magic. It's got nothing to do with biology. So when you use that, you're cursing more than just the body. You're cursing his magic, his essence as well. Less elegant than the Killing Curse, I suppose, but rather more effective as well."

She saw Severus' jaw drop, his eyes clearly asking, When did you figure all of this out? Hermione permitted herself a small smile.

"You appear to have given this a great deal of thought, Miss Granger," Dumbledore told her gravely. "And just how did you happen to come across an account belonging to Claudius Iustus, besides?"

Returning to her fidgeting, Hermione refused to look up at him. "I know it's very Dark magic," she said tentatively. "I just ... we don't study the ancient forms of blood rituals in any of our courses here, and I was curious." Perhaps he would accept that.

Dumbledore was clearly fighting to not respond. Instead, he switched subjects. "How did you convince Voldemort to shed his blood of freewill?"

"We didn't," she replied. "But last November, when, well, you know," she hedged, "some of You-Know-Who's blood got into my open cuts. We shared blood and I became his bloodkin, which made it possible for me to play the sacrifice."

Eyebrows raising even higher, the headmaster leaned closer to Hermione. "Then, Miss Granger, perhaps you could tell me why it was required for you and Professor Snape to approach Voldemort, if you had all of the resources for this ritual here at Hogwarts?"

"We didn't have Harry," she said. "And Harry had to perform it."

"Why, Miss Granger?" he asked. "Certainly the school is practically overrun with enemies of the Dark Lord. Any of us could fulfill this role."

She was confused--Dumbledore was the one who wouldn't go after Harry in order for him to fulfill his destiny, and he was asking her that? "But they're connected," she cried desperately. "Harry is--was--You-Know-Who's greatest enemy!"

"Allow me to understand," he began slowly. "You took it upon yourself to seek out Harry and Voldemort in order to perform this ancient, Dark ritual in which you and Harry were the only potential players. Pray tell, what was your role in all of this, Severus? Were you there to light the incense?" Hermione blinked at the unheard of sarcasm in the headmaster's tone.

"And to bless the knife," Severus retorted, equally sarcastically. "What do you think, Albus? She comes knocking on my door, asking me where the Dark Lord could have possibly taken Potter, and I'm going to just tell her blandly and then go back to marking my finals? I wasn't going to let her go alone."

Dumbledore looked back and forth between them, blinking. "There's something here that you are hiding from me," he said suspiciously.

Studying her blankets even more intently, Hermione could not tell what Severus was doing. "I don't know what you could possibly mean, Albus," he said carefully. "Miss Granger approached me for information on Potter's whereabouts last night and explained enough of the ritual to me that I realized she might have been correct in her assessment of the situation."

With a deeply furrowed brow, Dumbledore put a hand to his forehead in exasperation.

Severus tried again. "Albus, when we arrived, Potter was hiding in the trees, disarmed and injured. He could not have lasted much longer without intervention."

"Be that as it may, Severus, I cannot help but to be disappointed in both of you," Dumbledore told him. "After the events of last November, I would have expected you to act in a less rash manner."

Hermione would not apologize. Her actions had possibly saved her friend's life and helped him destroy one of the most evil men in the world. She couldn't apologize for that.

"No one will be informed of the exact events of last night," he continued, pinning them both with a brief glare. "Harry knows, and you two, but no one else must know that Voldemort was defeated using Dark magic. The surrounding events, of course, are common knowledge already, but the details of the ritual you have just described to me will not be disclosed. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Headmaster," she said, just as Severus muttered, "Yes, Albus."

"Good," he replied briefly. "I do hope that Poppy lets you leave the Infirmary soon. There are many celebrations you are both missing in the meantime."

Severus harrumphed.

----------

Severus watched Hermione doze and shifted uneasily in his own bed. The slight flush on her cheeks as she slept made him feel better; at least there was enough blood in her system now so that she could blush. In fact, she probably still had traces of Poppy's transfusion spells in her veins.

He had been more afraid last night than he'd been in a very long time. Watching helplessly as Madam Pomfrey went about her work, making noises of concern and shaking her head every so often. Hermione had stopped breathing at one point, he did know that. It had elicited an incredibly rare curse from the usually stolid mediwitch, and he'd had to resist the urge to plunge forward and take Hermione in his arms again as Pomfrey had begun artificial respiration.

But after a tense moment, Hermione had gasped and twisted a little, perhaps in an attempt to rise out of her unconscious state. That was when Severus had finally allowed himself to relax, and his poor numbed knee remembered that it couldn't support his weight. Watching him collapse to the floor, Pomfrey had just thrown a gown at him and told him to get into bed, barely missing a beat.

The longest hour of his life later, Pomfrey had finally pronounced Hermione stable, stitching her side shut and changing the still unconscious girl into a clean gown, giving her a quick bath along the way to remove the mud from her face and hands. And not three hours later, Hermione had woken up.

A horrible experience, to be sure, but it was showing signs of being over, finally. Especially given that it seemed as if Dumbledore was not going to shower them with laurels and place them at seats of honor. Well, that suited Severus just fine. He had no interest in such things.

It had stung, though, and more than he would like to admit, that Dumbledore brushed over his certainty of Draco Malfoy's involvement so blithely. He had thought that, through the years, the headmaster had come to place a certain level of trust in him. But that did not seem to be the case. Dumbledore had not so much as questioned the child, to his knowledge. It wasn't as if Severus was calling for Malfoy to be thrown into Azkaban; he just wanted the entire story to be known.

Perhaps seeing his father being given the Dementor's Kiss would be punishment enough for Malfoy, Severus told himself despondently. Probably not, though.

"Ah, Severus, you're awake," Pomfrey said, interrupting his thoughts as she came bustling into the room. "Good." Walking over to his bedside, she began pulling his blankets down.

"What are you doing?" he asked, startled.

"You need a bath, Severus," she replied briskly, tugging at the laces of his gown.

Quickly, he folded his arms across his chest and fixed her with a fierce scowl. "Poppy, I am more than capable of bathing myself," he said sternly.

"Nonsense. I don't want you putting weight on that knee any more than you have to for today, Severus. It will only take a few minutes," she told him, pulling a bit at his collar. "Now come on, off with it."

"I will not!" he cried, wincing as he realized he'd just given a fair impression of an angry three year old boy. He decided to go for broke. "And there's nothing you can do to make me!" A snuffling noise from nearby made him wonder whether or not Hermione was awake.

"Severus ..." Pomfrey warned.

If anything, his scowl deepened. "Put a chair in the shower or something, if you're so damned worried. But you will not give me a sponge bath, Poppy. I forbid it!"

Yes, a definite chortle emanated from the general vicinity of Hermione's bed.

With a spluttering noise, Pomfrey backed away from his bedside and strode off into the back of the Infirmary, still muttering to herself. Severus hoped she'd stay away for a good, long time. Sponge bath, indeed. "I'm glad I could provide your afternoon entertainment, Hermione," he said, glancing over.

Slowly, she turned over, still laughing. "Ooh ... stop making me laugh, Severus. It hurts," she said, grinning.

Immediately, he was concerned. "Are you ... I mean ..."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, Severus. It's just ... not fun to make any sort of sudden movements, you know. I just hope I don't start to hiccup any time soon. That would be unfortunate."

"I take it you're feeling better, then?" he asked, equal parts sarcasm and concern.

"Well enough to be bored with staying in bed." Perhaps to illustrate her point, her hands began fidgeting with the edges of her coverlet. "Although I suspect that I'd find otherwise if I stood up. Maybe I can find someone to send me some books ..."

He smiled. "Now that Albus is aware of your extracurricular reading tastes?" he asked. "Doubtful."

Hermione returned his smile but did not speak. Severus began wondering how angry Pomfrey would be if he went over to her bedside and was beginning to swing his legs off the side of the bed when the main door banged open.

"Hey, Madam Pomfrey?" a boy's voice asked cheerfully. "We were wondering if--"

"She's not here," Severus said in a stern tone, hoping whoever it was would go away. "What do you need?"

Ron Weasley popped his head around the door. "Oh, hallo, Professor Snape. We were just wanting to see how Hermione was doing. May we ...?" He looked rather perplexed at the sight of his professor tucked sullenly into a hospital bed of his own but, to his credit, said nothing about it.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, catching sight of her friend. "Come in. Although, I expect Madam Pomfrey will kick you back out if you're too loud."

Weasley laughed. "We wouldn't want that. Harry's got the bright idea of hiding out here for a bit," he explained. "A Daily Prophet reporter's just arrived, right after luncheon. D'you think that would be all right?"

"Did you bring something entertaining?" she asked hopefully as they ducked into the room and came over to her bed.

Weasley sat down in Dumbledore's vacated chair, contriving to look hurt. "You wound me to the quick, love. Am I not entertaining enough for you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and Severus suppressed his urge to mirror her.

Potter was slightly more subdued, Summoning his own chair and taking a seat on her other side. "How are you doing, Hermione?" he asked pleasantly, taking one of her hands in his.

"I'm okay, as long as I don't move," she replied. "How's your arm, then?"

With a little smile, he held the arm in question up in the air, waving it slightly. "Good as new."

"And did you find your wand?" she continued. "I remember you'd lost it when ..." Trailing off, she gave Harry an apologetic look.

He coughed slightly, eyes flicking over to Severus so quickly Severus wasn't entirely sure if he had or not. "Uh ... Professor Snape recovered it for me last night."

With an inward sigh, Severus realized that might be Potter's casual way of asking for further explanation. "Lucius Malfoy had it on his person. I don't know why."

The three Gryffindors were silently regarding him--Weasley with his typical confusion, Potter with a shameful sort of gratitude, and Hermione with an expression Severus mentally tucked away to think about later. After a series of awkward pauses, Potter coughed again and gazed down at his fingertips. "I guess I ought to thank both of you," he said. "For, well, last night and all."

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione cried, Severus knowing that her eyes were filling with tears and wishing he was close enough to touch her.

"You're welcome, Potter," Severus said gruffly, breaking the moment. "I trust that this will be the last time my services will be required as far as you are concerned?"

He smiled rather bashfully. "I will try not to be abducted by insane, megalomaniacal wizards in the future, Professor," he replied.

"Besides," Severus continued blandly, "if He--Miss Granger turns up in the Infirmary with mortal injuries once again, I shudder to think of what actions Madam Pomfrey might take."

"It couldn't be worse than a sponge bath, now could it, Professor?" Hermione teased.

"A thousand points," he replied automatically, forgetting they weren't alone.

The boys' reactions were priceless, really. Potter's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Weasley reddened with anger and opened his mouth to speak but immediately closed it upon realizing there was no possible response.

Severus rolled his eyes at the pair. "Gryffindors," he said in disgust.

"Ron, Harry," Hermione said gently. "He was joking. Really. You don't think he'd actually take away that many points from someone, do you?"

He was rather startled to see the looks in their eyes that suggested that yes, yes they did think he would.

----------

Various people visited during the day, mostly for Hermione, of course. Although McGonagall did smile at him rather pleasantly as she fussed over her pet student.

But it was time for supper, and the Infirmary was fairly deserted. Even Madam Pomfrey had stepped out herself, wanting to celebrate with everyone else. "Severus, you let me know immediately if something happens," she'd told him with a warning glint in her eye.

He was currently staring at the stones in the ceiling, counting. He'd lost count around three that afternoon when the playing cards in Weasley's hands had exploded and startled him out of his boredom. Soon after that, Pomfrey had thrown the boys out of the Infirmary, claiming that, "Miss Granger needs her rest!"

She probably did, he reflected. If the fact that she'd promptly fallen asleep and stayed that way for more than two hours was any indication. He'd stopped watching her sleep because it only made him want to go to her side.

This was ridiculous, he realized with a start. All he wanted to do was touch her, reassure himself that she was all right. And it wasn't as if he had an audience or anything.

Pulling himself upright, Severus placed his feet on the cold stone floor, wincing slightly as his knee protested against his weight. But it was not a great distance he was intending to travel--six feet, at a maximum.

He paused momentarily once standing, considering both Dumbledore's armchair and a relatively empty place on Hermione's bed. It only took him a moment to seat himself on her bed, hand reaching out tentatively to lie on her cheek.

With a little sigh, she smiled drowsily and her eyes fluttered open. "Severus," she murmured.

"Good afternoon," he replied with a smile.

"You've been too far away," she admitted. "But I didn't think Madam Pomfrey wanted to hear that." She stretched out a hand of her own, fingers wrapping around his other wrist.

Quickly, carefully, Severus shifted on the bed, settling himself behind Hermione, his belly her makeshift pillow, loosely wrapping his arms around her shoulders in an embrace, cautious not to hurt her. "Is this okay?" he whispered, relishing the feel of her.

She hummed. "Wonderful."

He kissed her shoulder, smoothing her hair back with a gentle hand. "I was worried," he confessed. "I think you ought to stick to books and needles and leave the 'battling evil wizards' to others."

Chuckling a bit, she turned her head halfway into his chest, breathing in deeply. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "I might agree with you. All of these scars are doing awful things for my self-esteem."

"I think you're lovely," he said quietly. "You and your scars." Before she could formulate a reply, he leaned down and kissed her.

Her lips curved into a smile against his. "I wasn't going to say anything," she protested.

"Who said you were?" he asked, kissing her again.

Wrapping her hands around one of his own, Hermione threaded her fingers through his thoughtfully. "Severus?"

"Hmmm?" Another kiss on the crown of her head.

"Thank you for going with me last night. I couldn't have ..." Her voice cracked and his arms tightened around her.

"Hush," he replied firmly, not wanting her to say it.

A contemplative silence fell between them, a comforting quiet that Severus was actually loath to break. He wondered for a moment if she had fallen asleep again.

If she had, of course, the loud slam of the door being flung open would have startled her into wakefulness once more. "Hey, Hermione, Madam Pomfrey said--"

The silence shifted to a more awkward one as the newest occupant of the room gaped at the pair on the bed.

It had been Miss Patil before and so it was Miss Patil now. Her mouth was hanging quite unattractively open, and she rather looked like a fish. How she'd managed to hang on to the two plates of food she was holding, Severus would never know.

After a few beats, Miss Patil put the plates on a nearby table and backed away. "Maybe I ought to ... yes ... good night, Hermione, Professor," she squeaked, all but running away.

Hermione covered her face with her hands and Severus unflinchingly let his head fall back against the headboard with a loud thud.

"Are you hungry?" he eventually asked her, eyeing the plates on the table.

"Are you serious?"

Shrugging, Severus carefully extracted himself from her bedclothes and made his way over to the food, placing a plate in her lap and then sitting in the armchair with his own. "What else do you propose we do? I am not going to run after Miss Patil and Oblivate her, and you are in no condition to either."

With a frown, she poked her fork into a ham slice forlornly. "Pity. So, what happens now?"

Oddly complacent, Severus took a bite of potatoes. "Who knows?"

----------