Work Text:
“Severus, are you quite alright? Did he.....”
“Of course, he did. When hasn’t he. My God, Albus. Do you honestly believe that I return from him unscathed. Every fucking time…”
“Language, Severus, please.”
“Fuck you.”
“Ah. There's that twelve year old boy I see before me…”
“And there’s that bastard…”
“SEVERUS!”
“Oh, please. Don't stand there pretending that you care. You’ve never cared what happens to me. All you’ve ever cared about was what I could do for you; how you could use me; my special talents. You’ve never cared; for even an instant; about me. Always your precious Gryphindors. The rest of us were beneath your concern; beneath your contempt. Don’t try to deny it, Albus. You know it's true…
Yes. I'm injured. I'm always injured. He…suspects. Each time I go to him now, I’m tortured; humiliated. Nothing I wasn't prepared for, here among my peers. He keeps…hoping…that I'll break; that I’ll tell him I'm on the side of the light; but he'll never hear it from me.”
“Yes. All right, Severus. You've made your point, but you should know; there really were none among your peers I could trust; as I have trusted you. You were the most loyal, the most steadfast in your beliefs. I knew that you…”
“And that's why you insisted that I make the vow. Cut the crap, Albus. What do you want? I've already told you there are no plans. Even HE likes his parties during the Holidays…such as they are. More entertainment for him and you know what he considers to be entertaining. I'll be fortunate if I can crawl home.”
“All right, Severus. That will be all for now...and please stop by the infirmary; let Poppy have a look at you. You know how she worries.”
“There's nothing for her to see. I healed myself before I arrived. But I shall stop round to see her.”
“Good. Good man! It will please her. Perhaps have some of that fine Scottish tea she always offers you. Poppy does care so about you, my boy.”
With that, Severus turned within the weight of his Winter garments and left the headmaster's office; not looking back or bidding the Headmaster a Good Evening.
“You may come out now, Miss Granger.”
Hermione felt her cheeks warm as a blush creeped up from her neck. “How did you know, Sir?”
“Whereas Harry's Invisibility cloak does, in fact, render one nearly invisible, it does leave a certain trace if one knows what to look for. I'm sure Severus would have noticed had he not been so agitated this evening.”
“Miss Granger. Nothing you have heard here tonight shall be shared with your fellow students and certainly not with Harry and Ronald.”
“But why not with them? I could finally prove that the Professor is on our side; just as I've always said he was.”
“Severus lives a very precarious life, Miss Granger. Surely you understand his position. He is Head of Slytherin House; the house most representative of Pureblood students in this school; many of whom have parents and family members among the Death Eaters and loyal Voldemort supporters. If any word were to reach their parents’ ears that would cast doubt upon Severus’s loyalty; he would most assuredly be marked for death. You do see this.”
“Of course, Headmaster. I won't say a word to anyone. I promise. I would never wish to cause Professor Snape any harm, sir. Never!”
“Very well then, Miss Granger, but I do remember the curious incident of Professor Snape being set afire during a quidditch match.”
“Oh my! I didn't think anyone saw that. Does the Professor...do you think he knows that was me, sir?”
“Yes, Miss Granger. I believe he has suspected it.”
“Oh, but he never did anything or said anything about it.”
“He will...in his own time. Now. You may don Harry's cloak once again and do make sure no one sees you leaving my offices, hmm? Oh, and Miss Granger? Kindly do not take the scenic route past the infirmary on your way to your rooms.”
Once again, Hermione blushed to the roots of her bushy hair. “No Sir. I mean yes, Sir. I won't, Sir...that is.....”
“On your way then.”
“Yes, Sir. Good night, Sir.”
“Good night, Miss Granger… and not a word.”
Hermione put a finger to her lips. Slipping Harry's cloak back over her head and descending the moving stairs, she reached the corridor and stealthily made her way back to Gryphindor Tower.
While preparing herself for bed; visions of Professor Snape; as she had never seen him or heard him before; replayed across her mind's eye. As she crawled into her bed and drew the covers against the cold; she thought she knew what sort of dreams she would be having this night. She would definitely be needing a silencing charm around her bed...just in case.
She saw, in her dream, a dark room. In the center; spotlighted against the dense blackness of the room; was an enormous four poster bed. The sumptuous, golden hued, silk bedding lay twisted and wrapped around the body of its occupant; one bare leg seen clearly within her view.
The man was lying sprawled and somewhat twisted; naked on his side with his back toward her. As she strained to see more of the man; to ascertain his identity; a person in a dusty, black shroud appeared from the vast darkness of the room and moved; like liquid; silently and barefooted to the man on the bed. In her dream; Hermione herself; drifted closer; her breathing now racing; as she was caught up in the tableau playing out before her. She knew it was important to know the identity of the man on the bed. She already had a dreadful feeling of whom the shrouded man was; if he could still be known as a man.
As she strained to see the other man, she glimpsed a smattering of raven black hair, dampened by sweat, and plastered to the pale skin at the nape of his neck. As he passed, the shrouded one, played his long, bony hand against the exposed leg of the dark haired man; running his hand up his calf, flattening his palm upon the back of his thigh and caressing his exposed buttock. As he moved further up the mans back, she thought she heard the slightest hint of a moan; but not the sexually aroused moan of a man reveling in the touch of his lover. This was a sound brought on by pain.
As the Dark Lord; for Hermione now knew for certain that it was he; passed in front of the man on the bed; she only then could see the torn flesh that left behind the bloody mess of his back. She watched as the Dark Lord knelt upon the bed near the man and as she watched, exposed under his body, partially wrapped in twisted silk, the man's pale arm displayed the unmistakable mark of a Death Eater. As the weight of the Dark Lord caused the bed to dip, the man lying upon it, called out and the pleading in his voice; with its single worded protest, brought tears to her eyes.
She awakened; sitting up, with the name of the injured man forced from her throat.
"Professor Snape!"