The Room of Lost Dreams

o0o

Hermione drifted into consciousness in the most delicious comfort imaginable. A soft breeze was blowing in through the window, bringing with it the smell of sun-warmed lavender. She snuggled into the silken sheets, luxuriating in the texture against her bare skin.

She had been conscious for nearly thirty seconds before she realised that she was not in her room at Hogwarts. She shot upright and was immediately aware that she wasn't wearing a nightdress. She pulled up the sheet to cover her exposed bosom and looked around the room. She was in a bedroom decorated in pale blues and purples. Her wand was on the table next to the bed and her beaded bag lay on a chair against the wall, but her clothes were nowhere to be seen. Fortunately, there was a periwinkle blue dressing gown hanging on the back of the door, which she Summoned and hastily pulled on. It was made of even finer material than her sheets.

Having summarily dealt with her nudity, she allowed her mind to wander back to the events of the previous night. The last thing she remembered was throwing up. She must have passed out. She felt unaccountably relieved that they hadn't decided to lock her in the dungeon. However, that raised the question of why the Malfoys were being nice to her.

It hit her with a sudden frission of excitement. Perhaps Professor Snape had lived through the night.

She nearly pulled the notebook from her bag to tell Severus the good news, but she felt that she had to see it for herself. However, her mouth tasted awful, and she needed to bathe.

She ran to the bathroom where she found luxurious toiletries laid out for her use, which she enjoyed thoroughly, particularly the French-milled soap whose scent reminded her of Amortensia.

When she returned to the bedroom clean and refreshed, she found the wardrobe open and a lovely blue robe and dainty lace underthings laid out for her on the bed. They fit as if they had been made for her, which, she supposed, they might have been. She smiled at herself in the mirror, admiring the way the smart cut of the robes set off her waist to perfection. She knew then that she'd done it. Severus Snape was alive.

Now unable to hold herself back, Hermione tore down the hallway, attempting to find some sign of Severus or her hosts. She found the room with the porcelain knob, and, having looked through the keyhole, determined that other than a figure sleeping in the bed, the room was empty.

She stole silently into the room and stood by the bed, looking down at her erstwhile teacher. He was still pale but he'd lost the ghastly grey that had been caused by the unfortunate reaction to his initial treatment. The wounds in his neck were crusted with dried blood, but they didn't appear to be bleeding any longer. His breathing was deep and regular. Hermione couldn't suppress a grin of triumph. She'd saved him.

Still, though he was alive and not likely to die of blood loss, there was no telling what sort of effect the residual snake venom would have on him, or whether there would be any lasting damage done by mixing the Blood Replenisher and Living Death. He needed to be seen by a healer, and certainly one of greater skill than the man who'd treated him the night before. His skin was cool under her fingertips, and she Summoned an additional blanket from the chair and laid it over him.

She turned to leave and jumped when she realised that she was not alone in the room. Narcissa Malfoy was standing in the doorway, looking at her impassively.

'Mrs Malfoy,' said Hermione by way of greeting.

'What do you want?' asked Narcissa. Though her words were abrupt, they were delivered with more curiosity than animosity.

'He needs to see a Mediwizard,' replied Hermione. 'He's stable now, but it's anyone's guess as to how long that will last.'

'And again I ask, what is it that you want?'

Hermione frowned. 'I'd like your assurances that you'll get Severus the care he needs as soon as possible. The only other thing I'd ask of you is safe passage back to Hogwarts this morning before I'm missed.'

'Surely you won't be leaving us so soon,' said Narcissa, her tone somehow implying the opposite.

Hermione glanced at Snape's careworn face. Each line emphasised the difference between this man and the Severus she knew through his journal, yet they were the same. 'I am grateful for your generous hospitality, but I really need to get back to Hogwarts.'

'You want Severus to know to whom he owes his life, surely? Or perhaps you simply want to get back to tell your little friends.'

Ahah. So that was what was bothering her. 'You and your husband were the ones Severus trusted with his plan, and you've certainly proved that he was right to do so. If anyone finds out that Severus is alive, it won't be from me. As for my role in the proceedings, I really think he'd be happier being indebted to you and your husband than to me.'

Narcissa crossed her arms. 'I'm afraid that's not quite how things work, Miss Granger. Severus owes his life to you now, and to deny him knowledge of how he was saved does him no favours. In fact, it strips him of his ability to repay his debt to you.'

Hermione briefly considered telling Narcissa about her bargain with Severus but was reluctant to disclose the existence of his enchanted journal. 'Given that Voldemort would still be alive if not for you and Severus, I don't think either you or he owe me anything.'

'Do you honestly expect me to believe that you nearly burned down our manor house, bullied our son, and humiliated a trusted family apothecary in order to save the life of a man you despise out of a misplaced sense of obligation?'

'I don't particularly care what you believe, Mrs Malfoy, either of me or of my actions. I should think the fact that your son is still alive and your house is still standing would be sufficient to assure you that my sole intention was to help Severus, whom I certainly don't despise.'

The impact of Hermione's declaration was lessened somewhat when her stomach emitted a loud growl.

Narcissa extended her hand and lifted Hermione's chin with two fingers, scrutinising her face. She seemed to find whatever reassurance she had been seeking, and her cool expression warmed infinitesimally. 'Lucius's personal physician will be here at ten. We'd have summoned him earlier, but you know the French. The Manor's Floo will be sufficient to return you to Hogsmeade, and if you would care to come with me, we will join Lucius and Draco for breakfast in the morning room.'

Hermione blinked in surprise at being invited to join the family for breakfast.

Narcissa's expression hardened again. 'Of course, Snoddy will be happy to bring you a tray if you prefer to eat in your room.'

'That's not what I- I mean,' she stammered to a halt, cleared her throat and tried again. 'Thank you, Mrs Malfoy. I would be delighted to join you for breakfast.'

Narcissa inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement and glided down the hallway. Hermione followed her toward the smell of fresh bacon and what was likely to be a highly entertaining reaction from Draco.

o0o

The body count at Madam Rosmerta's pub was obscenely high. Hermione picked her way through the fallen revellers from the fireplace to the door, skirting the unconscious, many empty glasses, and puddles whose origin she didn't care to contemplate. When she opened the door, a shaft of late morning sunlight fell across the room, eliciting groans and swearing.

She shut the door behind her and found that the morning in Hogsmeade was nearly as beautiful as her morning in France had been, though decidedly less disconcerting. She treaded the familiar path from Hogsmeade towards the castle, breathing in the fresh air, redolent of damp earth and green.

She rounded the curve toward the castle, which revealed Hogwarts's grounds in their full splendour. The Ministry officials were gone, and the expansive lawns appeared exactly as they always had, broken only by the white marble tomb near the forest and the edge of the lake. She was suddenly filled with admiration for the beauty of the place, wishing fervently for Hogwarts to be a safe place once more.

She wandered to the edge of the lake and sat on her favourite sunning stone. Her hand strayed to her bag seemingly of its own accord and pulled out Severus's journal and her quill. She stroked the cover with her hand, wishing he could be with her, wondering what his expression would be when she told him the good news. She fancied she felt an answering pulse of warmth from the book, but she knew it was just the dark cover of the book absorbing the sunshine.

She laid the book open on the rock and ran her fingers over the page before taking up her quill to write his name.

Hermione.

'We did it- we saved you. You're resting comfortably at Chateau de Malfoy somewhere in Provence under the watchful eye of the Malfoy family Mediwizard.'

Show me?

'Of course I will.' It was easier this time, now that she knew what was coming. She didn't need to write on the page, merely close her eyes. She knew they had entered her memories when his fingers brushed hers, which sent a wave of warmth through her. She opened her eyes and looked up at him and briefly wondered how she could have ever thought he was ugly. She felt a fierce, wild pride that she had saved him, and she led him into the Malfoys' bathroom.

'Come see, Severus.'

His hand tightened protectively over hers when Narcissa called her Mudblood, but he stood transfixed by the scene in front of him. When Hermione fainted, the scene faded into darkness, yet she and Severus remained.

'You did it,' he said, eyes shining.

'I couldn't have done it without your help.'

'Obviously,' he said with a wry smile. 'But the fact remains that you successfully saved me from a thoroughly unpleasant demise, and you did it willingly.'

'Of course I did it willingly. I couldn't just let you die.'

Severus's eyes were on hers. 'Why not?'

Hermione swallowed. His face was so close to hers. 'You're a hero,' she whispered.

Severus released her hand suddenly and stepped away from her. 'What am I to you, Hermione?'

Hermione brushed aside the flare of hurt that went through her at the loss of contact. 'You're my teacher-' she began, but Severus interrupted her.

'Not him. Me. What are you getting out of this?'

'Well, you did promise to help me with Potions.'

'Is that all?'

Hermione looked up into his eyes, finding them to be warm and inviting. 'No.' Her voice was so small, she was surprised he heard her at all. She glared at him, angered by her own admission. 'It's not like it matters. You're a magical construct that vaguely represents a person who no longer exists. Why do you care what I think of you?'

'I don't feel like a magical construct,' said Severus.

'You're a very good magical construct.'

'I feel like myself. I feel my heart beating, but I feel other things too.' He raised his hand and extended it towards her face, stopping just short of her cheek. 'I hardly dare to trust whatever forces brought you to me.'

'You're grateful,' whispered Hermione.

'Grateful, yes,' he said, 'but not just that.' He bridged the distance between them and brushed his lips lightly against her cheek as he spoke. 'I have no consciousness when my journal is inactive, yet I feel your absence.'

Hermione's heart was beating so hard it ached. His whispering lips ghosted over her cheek, drawing ever closer to her mouth. All of her awareness was focused on the warm breath on her cheek. Gooseflesh rippled over her, and she was unable to speak.

'I feel your fingers when you touch the pages. I felt you today when you touched me, and I felt your warmth, and I felt in you what I feel. If this isn't real, Hermione, I don't want to know what real is.'

And then he was kissing her, his mouth hot against hers and his hands pressed against her cheeks, as if to convince them both that she was really there. She wrapped one arm around his waist and threaded the fingers of her other hand through his hair, touching him, caressing him, trying to touch him as much as possible.

Severus flung his arms around her and pulled her fiercely to him. 'Gods, Hermione,' he gasped.

She breathed deeply, revelling in the way he smelled of balsam and something indefinably masculine. She nibbled the pale skin of his neck just above the collar of his robe, eliciting a low rumble in his throat that made his entire body vibrate.

Their mouths met again, feeling to Hermione like a heady combination of arousal and wonder, of declaration and exploration. His lips were firm on hers, his tongue gentle, and his hands stroked her hair, her shoulders, and her arms. Hermione felt as if she were flying, spiralling upwards into the sky as Severus kissed her.

'HERMIONE!'

Her eyes flew open, and she realised she was no longer in her memory but on her sunning rock by the lake looking in to the worried face of Ron Weasley.

o0o