Chapter Text
Severus Snape took a painful first breath back into consciousness.
He was not dead.
What an unpleasant surprise.
He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to bring his blurry vision into focus. A gasp came from nearby.
“He’s awake!” a voice said. Then footsteps, running.
Finally, his vision cleared, and Severus was at last able to see that he was no longer on the cold hard ground of the Shrieking Shack, nor was he on the battlefield. He was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts.
Worse and worse.
Gritting his teeth, he struggled, painfully, to raise himself into a sitting position. It was a grueling, slow ascent to adjust only a few inches, but he would not be lying down for one more blasted minute.
When Madam Pomfrey hurried in a few minutes later, Severus was breathing hard, but he was up.
“Severus!” she exclaimed, rushing to his bedside, cap askew and betraying her worry. “How are you feeling? How are you up already? Merlin, you gave us all a fright.”
“Poppy,” he growled, his voice rough and painful. “Discharge me.”
“Discharge you?” Madam Pomfrey demanded. “Severus Snape, you are gravely injured. You should be dead.”
“I should,” he agreed darkly. Merlin’s balls, it hurt to speak. “But I’m not. Discharge me.”
He fixed her with his stoniest glare, but Pomfrey only rolled her eyes and sat across from his bed with a sigh.
“I can’t let you go just yet. I’m afraid there are complications.”
Severus raised one scowling dark eyebrow, prompting her to continue.
“Do you remember what happened?” Madam Pomfrey asked.
He rolled his eyes. “I was attacked by a snake.”
“After that.”
Of course he remembered. Severus had given his memories to Harry Potter and said something shockingly maudlin, certain it had been his last words. But he wasn’t about to tell her something so mortifying, so he just shook his head.
Poppy grimaced and smoothed her apron.
“I was afraid of that,” she said. “Severus, you were saved by Hermione Granger.”
“What?” Severus rasped, incredulous. “How?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know. Neither does she. She found you after the battle, comatose and barely clinging to life. She said she tried using normal spells but nothing was working. I suppose she was very desperate because she put her hands over your wound and performed some kind of nonverbal wandless magic. It must have taken everything she had because she fell unconscious for a time. But you lived. You both did. You owe her your life.”
Severus stared at Madam Pomfrey, speechless. So many questions were running through his head. None of it made sense. But the only words that he could manage in a tone of total astonishment were:
“Bloody Granger.”
“Indeed,” Pomfrey agreed, sitting back in the chair. “And there’s more, I’m afraid. Hermione was discharged from the hospital quickly, that was five days ago now. Once she awoke, I found nothing wrong with her. But about twenty-four hours after she went home, she started vomiting blood, and her friends rushed her back here.”
Severus sat straighter. “Nagini’s venom?”
Madam Pomfrey shook her head. “No. I examined her more thoroughly this time. There was a small drain on her magic, a little deviation in her magical signature, but nothing worrisome or surprising after everything she’d been through. Within two hours of returning to the hospital wing, she was absolutely fine.”
“So you sent her home.”
“I did. And she was back the next day, vomiting blood again.”
“Merlin,” Severus said, horrified. “Is it a curse then? Some residual magic from Voldemort?”
“No and no,” Pomfrey said. “No dark magic. No curses.” She hesitated.
“Poppy,” Severus growled. “Stop beating around the bush.”
Madam Pomfrey sighed.
“I’m not sure. I haven’t been able to confirm it… but I have a hunch, yes. Hermione touched you. She performed powerful magic to pull you back from the brink of death. Magic she didn’t fully understand. You both lived. When Hermione left the hospital, she became violently, deathly ill. When she came back… she got better.”
She paused, closing her eyes briefly.
“Severus, we’ve been keeping her in the room next to yours. Tell me you don’t understand what this means.”
Severus stopped moving. He went deathly still.
“A soul bond,” he whispered hoarsely, hating the words as they fell from his lips.
Madam Pomfrey nodded reluctantly. “I think so, yes.”
Severus passed a hand over his face. “Does she know?”
Pomfrey rolled her eyes. “Of course not. What was I supposed to tell her? ‘My dear, according to ancient wizarding law, I’m afraid you may have inadvertently married your Potions professor?’ It’s a bloody disaster.”
Severus’ lip curled. “Spare me your commentary, Poppy.”
But she was right. It was a bloody disaster. The poor girl wasn’t even twenty. He shook his head.
“How can we be certain?”
Madam Pomfrey shrugged. “I don’t have much experience with soul bonds. You know as well as I do how rare they are. But from what I’ve read, since your magics are now intertwined, you should be able to heal each other through touch. I mean, theoretically, that’s how she saved you in the first place, channeling her magic into you. I suppose we could prick your finger, then have her touch you. If it heals immediately, it’s a soul bond.”
“Merlin’s saggy arse,” Severus muttered. “What a mess.” He sighed. “Fine. Bring her in. Let’s get this over with.”
Madam Pomfrey nodded, rising from the chair. “All right. I’ll go see her now.”
She paused in the doorway. “You’ll be gentle with her?”
Severus rolled his eyes.
Pomfrey nodded once more, then she was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
He had known his death was coming, had welcomed it even. What kind of life could there be for him after playing the villain for so long? No one would ever trust him again after killing Dumbledore and terrorizing Hogwarts. There was no possible peaceful existence for him after the war.
But when Nagini’s sharp fangs had buried themselves in his neck, he felt… regret. What had his life been for, really? Had there been any meaning to an existence of constant suffering besides hollow atonement?
And now, to learn that Hermione Granger, insufferable, reckless, foolish girl, had not let him die, it was unfathomable. He owed her a life debt.
More than that.
If Madam Pomfrey was correct, Hermione had transcended the rules of known magic and forged a soul bond with him, intertwining their magics irrevocably in order to save his life. The details of soul bonds were sparse and apocryphal at best, something that only occurred in times of great distress and only by very powerful wizards or witches.
But if it was true, then she had not just saved him. She had claimed him. He would belong to her in every sense of the word: magically, legally, permanently. And she to him.
She would be devastated.
Unlike a normal marriage, which could be easily dissolved by divorce, there was no undoing a soul bond. Their very life forces had become one. When he died, so would she. They would breathe their last breaths together.
Hadn’t she been romantically involved with the Weasley boy?
One selfless act, and she had effectively given up her entire life, her beautiful bright future. Severus closed his eyes and prayed that Madam Pomfrey had been mistaken. Being tied to someone such as him was a punishment she did not deserve. No one did.
A knock interrupted his reverie. He exhaled.
“Enter,” he called out.
Hermione Granger stepped timidly through the door. Merlin, she was pale. How much blood had she lost?
“Hello, Professor,” she said quietly, taking a seat. “How are you?”
“Alive,” he said dryly. “I believe you are responsible.”
“I’m glad,” Hermione said, and she smiled. “Really.”
“I am… in your debt.”
Hermione waved his words away. “Oh, not at all. You’re the real hero. Harry told me.”
Severus shifted uncomfortably. “Miss Granger…”
“Yes?”
“I… well. That is… Madam Pomfrey informed me earlier of how you were able to save my life, as well as the complications you’ve been experiencing. She has a theory as to what may be the cause.”
“Oh really?” Hermione asked, relieved. “What is it?”
Severus hesitated. “It… There is a test we need to perform first to be certain. Would you be amenable?”
“Certainly.”
Severus swallowed. “Right. Good, then.”
He took his wand, which had been left conveniently on the bedside table next to his bed, and conjured a small scalpel.
Hermione’s brow furrowed, and she looked at him questioningly. “Sir?”
“Do not fret,” he said, feeling an odd need to reassure her. “I will simply make a small, shallow cut across my palm. All you need to do is touch it. If Madam Pomfrey’s theory is correct, it should heal instantly.”
Hermione nodded in understanding. “All right.”
Severus drew the scalpel across his open hand before he could hesitate, watching the blood well up in angry red droplets. He held out his hand to her, strangely nervous.
Hermione reached out and lightly touched her fingertips to the wound. Her hands were so small.
Nothing happened.
Nothing happened.
Relief threatened to overwhelm him.
They were not bonded.
Thank Merlin, she was free.
He moved to pull away his hand, but Hermione held it in place, looking closely at the cut. He followed her gaze.
His heart stuttered.
It was closing.
Slowly, as if being knit back together from the inside out, the flesh was repairing itself one centimeter at a time. A few moments longer, and the cut was completely gone.
Hermione beamed up at him, still holding his hand.
“It worked!” she said brightly.
Severus found he could not speak. His throat worked, but no words came. He stared at her bright, earnest face and felt his entire world come crashing down around him.
Something in his expression must have given him away because Hermione frowned, eyes looking from him to his hand.
“Professor?” she asked. “What’s wrong? Didn’t this prove Madam Pomfrey’s theory?”
“It did,” he said hoarsely.
He slid his hand slowly from her grasp to tuck it under the hospital sheets, and Hermione released him this time.
“Is it very bad, then?” she asked quietly, sitting back in her chair, looking haunted.
He winced. “I’m afraid so.”
“The magic I did, the nonverbal magic, caused this somehow?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said simply. He found he could not bear to say more.
Hermione nodded slowly.
“How much time do I have?” she asked at last.
Severus frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“How much time do I have left before I die?” she clarified.
Severus reared back his head as if in shock. “Miss Granger, what are you talking about? You aren’t going to die.”
“I’m not?” Hermione asked, genuinely confused. “But in the shack, when you were dying, I willed you to live. I pushed my life force into yours. I know I did. I felt it. So if I gave you my life, surely I must not have much time left. That’s why I’ve been vomiting blood, isn’t it?”
“No. Not exactly.”
Severus sighed, pinching his nose.
“You did indeed will your life force into me. That is an apt description. But you did not simply give it away. You somehow seem to have forged it with mine. Thus, our magics flow back and forth between each other. It is not a death sentence, Miss Granger. It is a soul bond.”
“A soul bond?” she repeated faintly.
“Given your swotty tendencies, I assume you know of them?”
“I’ve read about them. A little,” she began slowly, hesitantly. “I know that they are rare. The bonded pair share not only their magic but also their life energy. As such, they become sick when separated for too long. It is said that when they die, they die together.”
Severus nodded. “That is correct. If you know that much, then you must also know that we are… that is… in the eyes of the law, we are…”
He hesitated, unable to bring himself to say it.
“Married?” she supplied quietly.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Oh.”
She said it with eyes wide with panic or shock or horror, or a mix of all three, Severus could not tell. He was not able to comfort her. He had neither the words, nor the strength.
They sat quietly like that for some time, both unable to speak, absorbing the gravity of their situation.
Finally, Severus found he could bear the silence no longer.
“Miss Granger,” he said, words rushing out of him, unpracticed. “I know forging a soul bond was never your intention. You selflessly tried to save my life, and in doing so, you have inadvertently shackled yourself to me. I cannot convey how truly… regretful I am. I apologize. I should never have survived. I did not deserve to.”
Hermione’s head snapped up. “But—”
Severus continued.
“If it would not have endangered you, I wish you to know that I would have ended my own miserable existence to free you.”
“Don’t say that!” Hermione cried. “I didn’t save you just for you to die again.”
“I’m afraid you should never have saved me at all.”
Severus shook his head.
“You are too kind. Too good. But you do not know who I am. You do not know the evil I have committed, nor the depths of my brokenness. Death was a fitting end for me. I can never be worthy of the sacrifice you made, and I know that such an unwanted union to one such as I could only be viewed with revulsion and dismay.”
He took a deep breath.
“But as such is the case, I wish you to know that I will do everything I can to minimize the destruction of your life. I will not interfere with your academic or professional goals. We can keep our… unfortunate connection a secret so that it does not taint your public image. I’m afraid we must live together, or the strain on the soul bond will kill us ere long, but we can lead separate existences. Separate rooms. See each other rarely. I may be your husband in the eyes of the law, but I would never interfere with your… romantic pursuits. You would be free to have affairs, even have children with those partners if you wished. You have saved my life and been repaid cruelly, but I wish you to know I will do everything I can to make it right, everything I can to give you what you wish, such as I can.”
He stopped, looking at her imploringly, willing her to understand.
Hermione was looking down, twisting her hands in her lap.
“I don’t want to have affairs,” she said quietly.
Severus sighed. “I understand. Of course you would wish to be married to—”
“No.”
She cut him off.
“That’s not what I mean.”
Hermione’s eyes were bright with tears, and he braced himself for the inevitable moment when she would break down in distress, but it did not come. Instead, she met his gaze. She looked small and tired and drawn, but surprisingly not cowed, not defeated.
“Sir,” she said tentatively. “Is it… do you think it would be impossible for you to love me?”
Severus blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Hermione rushed to answer.
“I don’t mean right now, of course. I’m just wondering if it could ever be a possibility. That is to say, if you might be willing to try. Oh, I’m making a mess of this.”
She bit her lip, blushing furiously, then forced herself to take a deep breath.
“You said you would give me what I wanted, if it was in your power.”
“Yes,” he said, eyeing her hesitantly.
“I appreciate the offer to separate our lives. And I understand why you might expect me to want such a thing. We barely know each other, as you said. But… if we are married, and you don’t have any objections… what if we didn’t have lovers and separate rooms and all that? What if we just had a normal marriage? A real one?”
She bit her lip again, large brown eyes searching his.
“I beg your pardon?” he said again, staring at her as if she had three heads. “I fear I am still quite unwell, for I certainly misheard you. Did you say you wished to have a real marriage?”
Hermione nodded.
“Are you out of your mind, girl?” Severus exclaimed, horrified. “Have we both lost it? Why on earth would you want that with me?”
Hermione winced and shrank inwardly a little, but she did not retreat.
“I’m not out of my mind.”
“Given your prior remarks, you may very well be,” Severus said darkly.
Hermione shook her head.
“No. I’m not. I’m… I’m lonely. I’ve lost my parents. I erased their memories to protect them, and I haven’t been able to restore them. I have no other siblings. No family. I had my friends, yes, but it’s not the same. I just want somewhere, someone to belong to.”
She paused.
“To realize we’re soul bonded is a shock, I’ll admit. But it also feels… I don’t know… sort of nice?”
“Nice?” Severus demanded hoarsely.
“Yes?” Hermione admitted uncertainly. She gave a helpless shrug. “I mean, it means I’m not alone anymore. I have someone now. And like you said… it’s permanent. So that means I don’t have to worry about losing you.”
“Merlin’s—! Losing me? Granger, you should be worried about keeping me. You will be miserable with me. I will be a noose around your neck. Have you no personal desires? No goals for your life?”
“I want a family,” Hermione said immediately. “I want a career, too, of course. But I also want to be married and have children, and I want permanence. I could never truly have that in an affair, and besides, that’s not who I am anyway. I couldn’t be with someone when I’m married to another. So… I suppose… if you’re the only man I can have, then I don’t want anyone else.”
Severus sputtered, totally taken aback.
“But— but what about Weasley?” he demanded.
Hermione frowned. “What about him?”
“Wasn’t he your little paramour or whatever young people call it?”
“Not really. We kissed once. We’re better off as friends. He’s pursuing Lavender now.”
“Then Potter?”
Hermione laughed. “Definitely not. He’ll be marrying Ginny before the year’s out.”
Severus’ mind scrambled, searching for other candidates. “Longbottom then? Or Malfoy? Or anyone?”
Hermione shrugged. “Nope. There’s no one.”
Severus shook his head in exasperation.
“Fine. You are currently unattached. But surely, surely you’d want to be with someone closer to your age. I could be your father!”
“But you aren’t my father,” Hermione countered. “And now that we have a soul bond, I know we’ll live our entire lives together, so you won’t be dying early and leaving me alone.”
“But… but…”
Hermione sat forward, a hopeful expression on her face.
“You don’t hate me, do you, Professor? Could you love me, do you think? Given enough time?”
Severus reared back. “Miss Granger, you are asking the wrong questions! You ought to be asking yourself whether you could ever love someone like me. I served Voldemort. I killed Dumbledore. I was cruel to you your entire childhood. You could never be happy with me. When this foolish notion leaves your head, you will be filled with horror and regret for ever suggesting it.”
“I could love you,” she said immediately. “I don’t. But I could.”
Severus’ heart stopped working. His brain stopped working. He forgot how to breathe.
Severus had lived with rejection. He was accustomed to loathing. To hatred. To fear. But this… this he was unprepared for.
He just sat there in the hospital bed, staring at her, dimly aware of the fact that she was still holding his hand as his mind spiraled into chaos, repeating the echo of her words.
I could love you. I could. I could. I could.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she prodded gently.
“Of course I could!” he snapped, cornered. “Anyone could. You are infuriatingly radiant when you aren’t deathly pale. You are insufferably intelligent and damnably good-hearted, and you saved my life. But that isn’t the point—”
Hermione beamed, causing his words to falter.
“Oh good,” she said. “Let’s be married for real, then.”
She slipped from the room before he could respond, leaving Severus to stare into the void where Hermione had been and wonder what on earth had just happened.