A Time for Understanding

Chapter 10: A Wound

It was with great impatience that the trio found themselves waiting on the outskirts of the heavy wooden door leading to Dumbledore's office. Although the boys had seemingly bolted from the room, they'd had the decency to wait for their friend, who'd taken a more leisurely pace. However, they soon questioned that course of action when Hermione convinced them that this was as good a place as any to hear Severus' news. Ron, who would have preferred to go to dinner, objected that when Snape had said "later", it was meant as a dismissal, not a promise. Hermione shot him a dirty look, and that had been the end of his protestations. She had haughtily taken a seat in the middle of the cold stone bench beside the door, and the boys flanked her on either side. There they sat in silence. It was a good fifteen minutes before Harry found nerve enough to speak.

Hermione sensed his body turning to face her, and she brushed the random strands of hair away from her face in order to see him properly.

Earnestly, Harry addressed her, warm brown eyes meeting ones green and repentant. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I've been acting like a heel. You were right, my dreams were important. It's just...I didn't want them to be." He finished the sentence apologetically.

Hermione smiled at Harry, forgiveness shining in her face. "It's ok, Harry, I understand. I want you to know, I would never do anything to upset you unless I knew it was for the best."

Harry nodded, grabbing hold of Hermione's hand and let his fingers twine with her own. She gave him a squeeze, their joined hands coming to rest on her lap.

Ron rolled his eyes dramatically at the sweetness of the gesture. "Oh, isn't that darling," he teased, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

Extricating himself from Hermione's grip, Harry pretended to lunge for his friend, who laughingly ducked out of the way.

Harry shook his head amusedly and sank down next to Hermione. He sighed, intently staring at the door closed in firm resolution.

"So when do you think they'll be done in there?" he asked hopelessly.

"Who knows? Dumbledore dismissed us rather quickly. Maybe he'll do the same to old Snape in there. I know I would." Ron chuckled at his weak joke, looking surprised when his two friends made no effort to join in his fun. He leaned back into the wall, trying to get comfortable while at the same time muttering under his breath about the sadness of those whose lives had been untouched by humor.

They sat in stony silence for a while. It was with sheer boredom that Ron examined the floor, the bit of his shoe that extended from his robes, and then the robes themselves. Tiring of that, he looked at Harry--first casually, then curiously. "Hey Harry, what's that on your hand?" he asked uncertainly.

"What?" Harry glanced down at his hand. It was stained in a deep rusty red, much of it localized in his palms, but spread across a good portion of the top of his hand as well.

"It's blood!" Harry exclaimed. He held his hand out before him in shock.

Harry looked to Hermione's lap, trying to locate the place where his hand had rested just a few moments before. "Hermione, are you ok?"

Eyes wide, she shook head vehemently. "It's not mine!" She stood up, examining herself. She brought her fingers to her side, feeling around her robes. The cloth was damp.

Ron raked his eyes up and down her small frame, searching for some unseen wound. "There's some on your foot too."

Hermione looked down, and sure enough, there were small droplets of blood glistening from her shoe.

She shook her head again, whispering softly as she brought her eyes to stare at a solid, impassive door. "It's not mine."

"I'm sure he's fine, Hermione." Harry patted her on the back comfortingly. "He looked fine, didn't he, Ron?" When no immediate answer was given, Harry convincingly kicked him in the shin.

Rubbing his leg ruefully, Ron dutifully responded, "Yes, yes, I'm sure he's fine." Then he added, "I don't get it, though. He's never been our favorite professor, has he? What are you so worried about him for?"

Hermione turned her head to glare at him. "I just am, alright?"

Harry warningly shook his head at Ron, who got the hint and remained quiet.

They sat that way for a long while. Ron fidgeted nervously and Hermione fretted with Harry's arm about her. It seemed forever before the door slid open, the two much anticipated men making no detour as they came to a halt in front of the students.

Severus entered the room first. His eyes resting on the three, his brow rising slightly at the sight of Hermione's stricken face. It arched more decidedly when noticing the location of Harry's arm.

Dumbledore stood in front of the group. "I would like you three to return to Gryffindor Tower now. I'm afraid that Professor Snape and I have yet to come to a satisfactory decision regarding this turn of events." Taking a look at Hermione, he assured her, "I will let you know when that decision has been made."

Hermione shook her head, all thoughts of activism promptly forgotten. She drew next to Snape, completely disregarding Dumbledore's words.

"Are you hurt?" she asked him softly.

Severus looked surprised, backing away slightly as Hermione showed him an outstretched hand--one stained in blood.

Disconcerted, he stammered, "I'm...I'm sorry, Ms. Granger. I assure you, I am fine. It is just a flesh wound."

Hermione frowned further, letting her hand run across the side of his robe--the part of his body that had been so close to her in Dumbledore's office.

Severus jerked back, but it was too late. Hermione's hands vacated the folds of his robes freshly coated in blood. The cloth was such a dark black that the vivid, red liquid had gone unseen by those around him. Hermione stared in horror at her now blood-brightened skin.

The headmaster looked at Severus sharply. "I didn't realize you were so injured, Severus. You must report to the Infirmary at once."

Severus stood tall, glaring at Dumbledore's concern. "I've no need for nursing, Albus. I'm fine." He crossed his arms in stubborn rejection of the order.

Dumbledore patted Severus indulgently on the back. "Be that as it may, I'm sure we will all feel better when you get this taken care of." He took notice of Hermione, who was still staring down at her hand. "Ms. Granger, would you accompany Professor Snape to go see Madame Pomfrey?"

Severus gave Dumbledore a fierce look of indignation. "Am I such an invalid that I cannot go to the Infirmary of my own accord?"

Not wishing to waste time on pointless bickering, Hermione grabbed Severus' hand before he could complain any further. With a scathing last glance to his superior, Severus allowed himself to be dragged to the nurse's office by a fiercely determined Hermione Granger.

Severus had never cared to demonstrate to the public any of his possible weaknesses, physical or otherwise. By the time he and Hermione had neared the Infirmary, he had displayed a rapid burst of energy as he stalked his way towards their destination; Hermione was practically at full jog in order to keep up with the way his long strides cut across the stone floor.

Passing through the entranceway, Snape's robes viciously snapped about his ankles. "Poppy!" he roared. Hermione glanced about the vacant room, noticing a note lying atop the nurse's station. She picked it up and read.

"Madame Pomfrey is with a student who is having some sort of...crisis. It says she'll be back soon." She neatly placed the paper back on the counter.

Severus sneered. "Well, Ms. Granger, I have no intention of waiting for Poppy, not when there is so much that must be done." He made his way to the door. "I followed the Headmaster's wishes. I came. That should satisfy you." With a few rapid paces he covered half the distance to the exit before coming to an abrupt halt.

Taking cue from Ron's previous example, Hermione had darted directly in the path of his escape route, arms held out on either side to further prevent him. "No, I'm not satisfied! You're hurt and you need to be treated. Do you think you can help anyone if you're bleeding to death?"

Snape towered over her, striking even more an opposing figure than usual. "Don't try me, Ms.Granger," he hissed threateningly.

Hermione stood defiantly, hands on her hips. "You're not leaving until you are treated. You said it's just a flesh wound. If you refuse to wait for Madame Pomfrey, let me do it. I know she has a good stock of your healing potion. Let me apply it, and then we can leave."

Snape's dark eyes shot daggers at her, but he made no further movement towards the door. Taking this as acceptance, she urged, "Well, shouldn't you be sitting down?"

He gave her another fierce look before heading towards the bed. Pausing slightly, he examined it for a moment with an expression of obvious disgust. He then eased himself onto the soft surface with just the faintest cringe, barely perceptible to anyone who didn't know him.

Hermione furrowed her brow, her anger instantly vanishing.

Finally snapping out of Snape-watching, she made her way to the large, brown cabinet in which Madame Pomfrey kept her potions. It was open. Reaching inside, Hermione's right hand quickly located the correct bottle, her left taking several strips of long white cloth.

She walked over to Severus and took a seat on the stool near his bed. He was sitting there, uncomfortable and stiff looking. Oh, but he was being stubborn. She could tell he wasn't going to make this easy for her.

"I suppose you'll need to take your clothes off," she said unfeelingly.

Hermione knew exactly how that sounded, and at the moment she didn't care enough to come up with something less provocative. Perhaps it was best to scare him into submission.

Severus hesitated before bringing agile fingers to his buttons--they were quickly undone. He shrugged off his jacket and the shirt beneath. Hermione saw pale skin marred by the sporadic scar. He was thin; not painfully so, but enough to easily discern the muscle beneath the skin. Her attentions to his form did not last long. Instead, she was instantly drawn to the rose-red wound that flowered at his side. Feeling her eyes automatically fill with tears, she was well aware that Severus was watching her.

"It's just a flesh wound, Ms. Granger." The words were said in almost a comforting tone, though they did little to ease what plagued her.

"It doesn't look like it to me," she said bitterly.

They were quiet for a minute before Severus snapped them out of their reverie.

"Are you going to get to it, then?"

"Lay down," she ordered.

Snape seemed to have decided to stop fighting her; surprisingly enough, he obeyed. He eased himself onto his side, almost curling into the fetal position. Hermione looked at him thoughtfully; she had never seen him so vulnerable. His black hair draped across the pillow was a stark contrast to the white linen. He lay with his body before her, trusting she would do it no harm.

The longer she looked, the more nervous Hermione became. She watched as her hands made the long journey towards his side, shaking slightly as they did so. She had just barely touched his skin when he spastically jerked away.

"What is it? I barely even touched you!" she exclaimed, both worried and reproachful.

"Your hands are cold," he said defensively.

Hermione smirked. He'd certainly relieved the tension, at least for a bit. "Yes, sorry about that. I've always had cold hands," she lied.

She rubbed her hands together, pretending the friction would warm them sufficiently. Truth be told, her hands were quite warm from all her nerves. She brought them to his side once more, trying as gently as possible to assess the damage. She felt a surge of anger towards whoever had done this to him. She had so many questions. Who had hurt him? Where had he been? What was his news? But as she looked at him, lying so still but for his steady intake of breath, she realized now was not the right time. It was a time for healing, not an interrogation.

She spoke softly as she worked. "That was an awfully lot of blood you lost for just a flesh wound."

Severus remained motionless and unresponsive.

"You were right though. You'll be fine."

Hermione opened up the bottle of solution and doused the cloth. Gently, she began brushing the sterilized material across Snape's wound. He made a little sound of pain as his skin sizzled, even as it began to heal.

Hermione leaned her head very close to his skin, softly blowing upon it, watching goose bumps erupt from the sensation of her cool breath upon his hot flesh.

"What are you doing?" he asked roughly.

Hermione smiled slightly. "When I was little, that's how my mother used to take care of me. She always used peroxide on all my cuts and scrapes. When she had those little cotton balls in her hands I wouldn't let her come near me unless she promised she'd blow on it after--took away the sting."

Hermione began again to rub the healing balm gently over his quickly fading injury. The skin was healed now, but needed to be rubbed for a few more minutes to have the full effect.

The room was quiet and still. Because there were no words exchanged between them, Hermione became aware that her breathing had synchronized with the rise and fall of Severus' chest. She stopped her motions and tenderly whispered, "All done." She waited as he turned to rest on his back, his eyes then searching for hers. Refusing to meet his gaze, she stared at the spot where his wound had been, allowing her thumb to delicately brush across the newly healed skin. "There's not even a scar," she murmured. Hermione looked up and met his eyes. "You can be so stupid sometimes, do you know that?" she said tearfully.

A curious look passed over Severus' face, and he slowly brought his hand to cover her own, which was still resting comfortably across his torso. They stared into each other's eyes, and Hermione heard her heart thundering in her ears.

"And how is our patient?" Dumbledore slowly made his way into the room, regarding the two in front of him with an amused expression in his eyes.

Severus sat up quickly and reached for his shirt, the buttons done with more than excessive speed. Hermione sat back, watching as he donned his clothing, essentially transforming back into the man feared by so many.

"He's fine, Headmaster. Madame Pomfrey wasn't here, but I was able to apply the balm without a problem."

"Very good, Ms. Granger. I have some news for you. Severus was able to come across some...helpful information in his travels. It seems Harry's dreams, while perhaps not prescient, were indeed quite telling as to Voldemort's intentions." Dumbledore looked sadly at Severus before continuing. "It seems the realization that one of his most trusted had betrayed him has caused Voldemort to go against any reason he may have possessed. He never cared to be made the fool." Dumbledore shook his head. "He believes he has found a way to bypass the wards. He plans to storm Hogwarts."

Hermione glanced from Dumbledore to Severus in confusion.

"So what are we going to do?" she asked, her voice sounding small.

Dumbledore looked to Severus seriously, nodding as if to confirm some previous agreement. "The school will be evacuated."

There was silence, but those five words seemed to echo throughout the Infirmary, effectively drowning any other noise that might else have been heard. Hermione's rapidly beating heart suddenly felt as if it had stopped beating altogether. She had been through so much over the past few years, yet suddenly the war seemed so much closer than it ever had before. Trying to grasp this concept, she slowly shook her head, even as Dumbledore's voice continued on.

"It is merely a safety precaution; we do not know if Severus' informant was entirely accurate. But the safety of the students is our primary concern."

Harry and Ron strode into the Infirmary, arriving at the tail end of the headmaster's words.

"Did you hear?" Hermione asked.

Ron nodded, and Harry looked at her. "Dumbledore told us. But not all of us are leaving."

Hermione gazed in surprise at Harry. "But I thought you didn't want this. That you were afraid to--"

Harry took a step forward, smiling at her sadly. "I am afraid. But this is Hogwarts. It's our home." He stood tall, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. "That man took my family. I won't let him take our home."

Ron came to stand next to Harry supportively. "Neither will I."

Severus felt suddenly alone as Hermione stood from her stool, slipping from his side to join Harry and Ron in an open triangle. "Neither will I," she vowed softly, her arm linking with Harry's.

There they stood--the bonds of camaraderie, determination and love uniting them. Harry, Ron and Hermione didn't see the pride flashing in Dumbledore's aged eyes. Nor did they see Severus' look of fear as he gazed at Hermione.