Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything having to do with Harry Potter. It all belongs to JK Rowling (unfortunately).
Notes: Compliant up to OotP, but then becomes AU in the fact that Harry, Ron and Hermione are in their 7th year and still at Hogwarts. Dumbledore and Snape are still there too, and if there are hoarcruxes, Harry certainly hasn't ever heard of them.
Rating: Will be S-MA at some point, although not for a little while yet.
Treating Her Curses, Healing His Soul
Started 8-18-2007
By LadyWillow
"Incorrect again, Mr. Weasley. I think, perhaps, another ten points from Gryffindor may help to bring home inside of that woefully inept brain of yours that you do not mix the extract of gillyweed with the current infusion for your Pepper-Up Potion. Unless, of course, it was your intention to cause an explosion large enough to consume and destroy both yourself and the student so unfortunate as to be seated next to you? Star-crossed lovers you and Miss Granger may be, Mr. Weasley, but that is neither reason, nor justification to take both of your lives in such a dramatic fashion."
Professor Severus Snape paused for a moment, casting his eyes ominously around the classroom for a brief spell, before continuing.
"I believe that pitching yourselves from the Astronomy Tower may be more the style and flair you are looking for."
His eyes settled on the sputtering, red-faced Gryffindor Ronald Weasley just long enough to give him a disgusted sneer, and then his gaze shifted to land on the student to his left.
Hermione Granger, Muggle-born Gryffindor, and best friend to "Enemy Number One" on Professor Snape's personal list. Oh, there were so many reasons to loathe Harry Potter. Too many, really. Sometimes, even when he was dwelling and brooding in his quarters before retiring to bed for the evening, his mind would begin to wander down the well-worn path that he valiantly kept it from all day long. And, exhausted from forcing his mind into distraction, he would relent, and think all of the painful thoughts, feel all of the old hurt, all the regrets. He would indulge himself, for a time, with fanciful "what-ifs", and sometimes, if he was particularly weak, he would pretend. In his most gifted and profoundly developed imagination, he would place himself in paradise, where none of his mistakes existed, and everything was, in his opinion, just as it would have been.
But sometimes, just sometimes, when he would let these thoughts come, he would be startled to find himself unable to justify his extreme hatred of Harry Potter, "The Boy Who Lived to Annoy". Instead, he would think about Her, and he would almost be able to hear Her voice speaking to him. But the words were never right, never what he wanted to hear, even though it was his fantasy, in his mind.
"Protect him, Sev. Please, for me, help him."
And sometimes, when he had the strength the refuse, to try to reason with Her (as if he thought it would ever come out differently), she would grow more desperate.
"Let go of the past, Severus Snape! He is my son! Part of me!"
And then, those words that made him weep upon hearing them:
"If you really loved me, Severus, you would not hate my son. You would help him survive!"
By this time, his carefully constructed fantasy world would be crumbling around him, and with an anguished wail he would return to reality, with Her voice ringing in his ears the mantra that would haunt him in his nightmares for several nights to come.
"I died for him… I died for him…"
Shaken back to the present, all musings and memories aside, he continued to look at the student before him.
Hermione Granger. Bright, clever, precocious Gryffindor Head Girl "please-stab-me-with-a-dinner-fork-to-escape" Hermione Jane Granger.
In so many ways she was unnerving to him. The most prominent reason being several startling likenesses that she bore to Her, the woman who, even in death, continued to haunt both his conscious and unconscious mind.
Her undeniable brilliance and voracious thirst for knowledge endeared her to Severus Snape in a way that frightened him to nearly the end of his sanity. Also not to be forgotten was the fact that her patterns of thought, evidenced by the scores of essays and papers of hers that he had read and graded over the years, were remarkably similar to his own. Her logical reasoning, her attention to and affinity for details, yes she was quite smart. Possibly the smartest witch currently in the student body.
And oh, how he hated it.
Her exceptional qualities made it unbearably difficult, nearly impossible, to loathe and despite her very state of existence based completely on the fact that she was:
Friends with Harry Potter, the "Witless Wonder,"
A Gryffindor.
The trouble was, Severus supposed, mostly that while she certainly displayed several characteristics of her House, he could easily see just as many, if not more characteristics of his own House within her. It had not escaped his notice, in fact, that it was quite likely that she would have been placed in Slytherin if she was only at least half-blood like himself, instead of muggle-born.
How curious to think about. How would things have turned out over the last several years if Hermione Granger had in fact been sorted into Slytherin instead?
But now was not the time to ponder such things, and besides, what did he care what house that irritating know-it-all was or was not sorted into? It was certainly of no consequence to him.
Certainly not!
Turning his attention away from the two embarrassed students with a smug, dangerous smirk, he cast his gaze about the room once more, as if silently daring any other students to blunder as badly as Ron Weasley just had.
"Silence!" he spoke, his voice low and frightening. The soft snickers and muttered jeers from the students seated in the Slytherin section of the classroom immediately went mute.
"Now then, if we can all recall how one executes the most dramatically difficult skills of both reading and following directions…"
XXXXXX
An hour later, the room full of students was slowly thinning out as they filed to Professor Snape's desk, placed their finished potion (and prayers for at least passing grades) into the receptacle, then pushed out the door and into the halls, eager to escape the dungeons as soon as they possibly could.
Severus Snape sat calmly behind his desk, hands folded in his lap and a carefully-schooled expression of indifferent boredom etched on his features.
He made a point of catching the eyes of each student as they approached his desk, and delighted in the terror their eyes displayed before they hastily looked elsewhere.
In fact, only one student held his gaze.
Hermione Granger, of course.
The fact both delighted and infuriated him in equal measures.
"Yes, Miss Granger?" he murmured most dangerously. His ire rose when she did not even seem to falter. Instead, she continued to approach, placed her potion in the rack, and then simply stepped off to the side to allow the other students to file past, clearly waiting until they were the only two who remained before addressing him.
The two imbecile friends of hers, Potter and Weasley, stood at the door and motioned for her to join them with an urgency one would usually reserve for trying to coax someone away from the den of a ravenous, man-eating beast, and he was slightly baffled by the swell of… happiness? That flooded his chest when she rolled her eyes in a most exasperated manner, shook her head, and made an irritated shoo-ing motion at them with her hands. Although looking rather skeptical, they left, and her posture relaxed greatly.
The last student scuttled out the door, and Professor Snape turned in his chair to look directly at the Gryffindor student who was keeping him from his afternoon break.
"Well Miss Granger, to what do I owe the pleasure," his nose turned up and his lip curled at the word, "of your continued presence in my classroom?"
An eyebrow arched, and she folded her hands behind her back, than took a measured step forward.
"Professor, I greatly need your help," she stated, continuing to hold his gaze despite her growing apprehension.
"My help? I am afraid, Miss Granger, that you have been misinformed. Contrary to popular belief, I am neither well-versed nor qualified in the field of psychology and mental health. However, I am certain that Madam Pomfrey would be more than willing to point you in the right direction." His eyebrows rose, and he watched as her face reddened with frustration.
"Must you always be so cruel?" she ground out from between her clenched teeth, and all traces of amusement left his face at once.
"Cruel?" He stood, almost gliding across the floor until he was standing before her, looking down his nose into her eyes angrily.
"You, Miss Granger, know nothing of cruelty." He hissed, and Hermione struggled to keep from shrinking back.
"Please, Professor. I don't like asking this of you any more than you do, but I have no other choice!"
Letting out an impatient sigh, he crossed his arms over his chest and gave her one curt nod, clearly displeased. "What is it, then?" he growled, and for a moment she looked surprised, then recovered and began to speak.
Squaring her shoulders as if she was about to face off against You-Know-Who himself, she looked directly into his eyes.
"Professor, this morning Draco Malfoy came upon me, and after he got tired of simply calling me a "Mudblood" and describing all of the horrible things that will happen to me when You-Know-Who finally comes to power, he hexed me, and-"
"Enough, Miss Granger. I was not aware that, as Head of Slytherin, I would be required to listen to every little complaint someone has when they begin to discover that life is, in fact, quite unfair. Furthermore-"
He was quite rudely cut off, however, when Hermione took a frantic step forward.
"Look at what he did to me!" she cried, interrupting the Potions Master (much to his surprise), and in one quick flash of movement, pulling open both the front of her robes and the white dress shirt beneath.
The vehement protest of Hermione's actions died on the stunned professor's lips as he stared in absolute shock at his student's midsection.
However, it was not her firm young breasts covered by both a practical white bra and her Gryffindor tie that had him staring. Instead, it was the black, charred-looking mark that consumed almost all visible skin, from below her breasts to just above where her skirt began.
The flesh looked disturbingly damaged, parts appeared puckered and bubbled as if her skin had actually begun boiling and melting away.
For several moments, the only sound in the room was Hermione's fast-paced, labored breathing, no doubt from her temporary loss of control over her anger. And then, "When did this happen?" he demanded, voice rough and urgent.
"I already told you, this morn-"
"Where?" he cut her off, eyes still trained on her middle.
"Outside the owlery."
His gaze snapped up to catch hers.
"And what where you doing there?"
"Oh, I don't know, looking for the Lost City of Atlantis? What do you think I was doing? I was sending an owl!"
"To whom?" he ignored her sarcasm, quite a feat to be honest.
"My parents."
"Why?"
"That is none of your business!"
"What hex did he use?"
She faltered. "I don't know. I've never heard of it or seen it before." She admitted, which was an equally remarkable feat.
At last he began to relent.
"Why didn't you go to Madam Pomfrey, or McGonagall, or even the blasted Headmaster?" he demanded, looking like he might be about to start shouting again.
"Because I tried some healing spells and they only made it worse. I figured that it was Dark Magic, and probably cursed, and you-"
"You thought that, given my past, and my current… activities within the Order, I would be best informed and knowledgeable about what must be done to heal your rather… substantial wound."
She looked up at him silently for a moment, than nodded cautiously.
"Of course." He grumbled, and then gestured to the intricately carved wing-backed chair. Hermione faltered just a moment, then lowered herself into it with a barely perceptible wince of pain.
"What possessed you to wait until after class to speak to me about this?" he questioned as he knelt before her, his robes billowing briefly before settling around his legs and feet.
"Oh yes, Professor, because you would have been so receptive to that." Hermione hissed, clutching at the arms of the chair, knuckles white from the strength of her grip as Severus Snape probed her scorched flesh with several of his long, dexterous fingers.
"Miss Granger, describe the look of the hex as it left Mr. Malfoy's wand." He commanded, rocking back on his heels and meeting her gaze evenly with his own.
Hermione could see, however, the concern in his eyes that he was trying so desperately to hide, and she felt a momentary flush of warmth rush through her.
"It… it was green… a blue-green, and looked like a furry bolt of lightning… kind of…"
He looked at her in silence for just a moment, then abruptly stood and dusted off his robes.
"As I suspected." He muttered, more to himself than to Hermione. "Well then, I shall have to brew you a potion."
Hermione began pulling her shirt closed, looking much less concerned. "Great, and then I'll be back to normal?" she asked, glancing at him briefly before looking back down at her shirt as she carefully worked each button.
"Not quite."
She froze.
"What do you mean, 'not quite'?"
"The potion will need to be administered nightly for seven days in order to heal the wound, and it must be freshly brewed each time. Which means, unfortunately, that for the next week your evenings will be spent here in the dungeons with me. I'm sure I shall find a way to manage, somehow."
The look of distaste on his face brought a rush of color to hers.
"And what if I won't take the potion? What if I decide not to come?" she demanded, putting her hands to her hips despite the pain it caused her.
He shrugged noncommittally. "It will continue to spread, eventually consuming your entire body, from your toes to your ridiculously bushy hair." He paused, meeting her gaze, and in a much more serious tone continued. "And eventually, it will overwhelm your body, and kill you."
Hermione stared at him, horrified.
"Now then, if you would follow me, we shall get started."
"We?"
He began to walk toward the classroom door as he spoke. "Oh yes, Miss Granger. You see, the ingredients for this potion are quite valuable. You will be making it worth my while to provide it for you. I believe I have a series of tasks involving the stored potions and their fading labels that might just be worth the cost of tonight's dose."
Professor Snape looked over his shoulder then, anticipating the student's look of irritation, perhaps even indignance, and so was stunned to see her tearful instead. Her head was lowered, but he could still make out the moisture on her cheeks, and of course, the sniffles were unmistakable.
"For Heaven's sake girl, what is it now?" He'd stopped walking, and she looked up at him, cheeks pink and lips quivering.
"I'm suh-sorry, Professor… but cuh-could you maybe give me something for the pain?" she whimpered, and somehow, with just those simple words, Hermione Jane Granger had made Severus Snape feel like the biggest ass on the face of the earth, wizard or otherwise.
He turned fully and looked down at her, this time doing nothing to hide his worry, and nodded sharply.
"Of course, how careless of me," he said simply, no bite or venom to the words, just a weariness that the practiced listener would recognize as the closest one would come to extracting an apology from him. "Come along, I have something in the lab that should work perfectly."
Hermione nodded and began to follow him once again; her steps slow and measured to, hopefully, reduce some of the pain she was currently experiencing.
Several minutes later, Professor Snape was lowering the protective wards on the door to his private lab and ushering her inside, before shutting and locking the door behind them.
"Please sit down, Miss Granger," he invited, voice low.
She complied, letting out an audible sigh of relief upon doing so, and she watched with weary eyes as he moved gracefully to a cabinet against the far wall of the room and opened up the great oak doors. Inside were more potions than Hermione had ever seen before, and she stared in awe as Severus looked through the various bottles, then pulled one out, looked at it carefully, then pulled the cork out of the top and smelled it before nodding to himself.
Then, he was striding back across the room, and when he reached her side again, he grabbed a goblet from the nearest table, poured some of the potion inside, and offered it to her with a very small smirk.
"This should numb any pain you are feeling quite effectively." He stated, and Hermione didn't even falter or pause. She simply took the proffered goblet, brought it to her lips, and drank it down in one long gulp.
When she lowered the goblet a moment or two later, there was a look of distaste on her face, and Severus failed to hold back a low chuckle.
"It may taste unpleasant, Miss Granger, but I assure you, it will certainly get the job done. Now then, while you wait for the potion to take effect, I am going to begin the long task of preparing your Curing Drought."
Hermione simply nodded, her head beginning to feel light as she watched her Professor stalk across the room and begin to pull various ingredients from the shelves with the utmost reverence and care.
The potion, Hermione concluded, that she had just drank down apparently had a slightly narcotic effect, as she could feel a strange tingling sensation beginning to flood her system slowly.
Her tongue felt like lead inside her mouth, but she still managed to speak, obviously her lips and thoughts a bit loosened.
"I really appreciate your help, Professor." She began, voice slurring only a tiny bit.
He didn't reply, just stopped collecting ingredients and components long enough to look over his shoulder at her briefly and note her slightly flushed face-another side-effect of the pain potion's slightly narcotic effects, and her glassy eyes.
"I was afraid you would make fun of me and refuse to help, like you did when he hexed my teeth. I thought that maybe you would congratulate him or take points from Gryffindor for me being stupid enough to let myself get hit…" she trailed off, and this time Snape frowned and instead of simply turning to look at the injured and slightly intoxicated student across the room, he walked toward her, frown lines etched deep in his forehead.
Hermione suddenly seemed to realize just what she had said to the most-feared potions professor, and a look of mortification came over her face.
"P-professor, I apologize, I didn't mean to say-"
"Silence." he commanded, and Hermione began to tremble visibly.
"My God, child, what kind of a beast do you think I am?" he demanded, his face almost shocked. "You have been attacked by very dark magic, how could you even think that I would be unconcerned by, even pleased with this situation?"
She began to bite her lip, and he softened.
"Miss Granger… Hermione… this situation troubles me greatly, but not because I do not wish to help you."
He seated himself near her and did his best to hold her wavering gaze.
"It troubles me because I am concerned for you."
The only reason he was revealing so much to her, he knew, was the simple fact that when the intoxication from the potion wore off, it was very unlikely that she would recall much, if anything, that had occurred.
He hoped.
Because at the moment, he found his arms full of a crying, trembling Hermione Granger, and before he could think of a single reason not to, he was gently rubbing her back and doing his best to sooth her, while enjoying her peasant scent and reminding himself that she was a student, his student, and a Gryffindor, and friends with the Witless Wonder, and every other reason why he was without a doubt a disgusting, lecherous old pervert.
But it didn't seem to be working. At all.
After what seemed to him to be far too long, Hermione calmed and pulled away, still sniffling a little bit and rubbing at her eyes. Severus transfigured a nearby bit of parchment into a soft handkerchief and offered it to her, a look of distaste on his face with she noisily blew her noise into it.
"Now then, Miss Granger, if you think you may be able to refrain from springing another leak, I will get back to collecting the necessary things for your potion."
The words were snarky enough, but Severus knew as he spoke them that they lacked the bite and sting usually present, and he cursed his weakness as he stalked back across the room and went back to work.
Hermione just continued to dab at her eyes on and off as she felt the last of her pain fade away, leaving a pleasant numbness in its wake.
Glancing at the small clock at the corner of Professor Snape's desk, she was surprised to see that it was already after six, they were missing supper. And Harry and Ron, she realized, must be worried sick by now.
She was just beginning to plan what she would tell them (the truth was certainly out of the question), when she was interrupted by the loud "clang!" of a cauldron being placed on the pewter top of a lab table.
Hermione jumped briefly, the room had been so completely silent that such a loud noise seemed even more magnified and rang out in the room sharply, going so far as to even echo a bit off the cold stone of the walls.
She looked at where the noise had come from, and watched Professor Snape, a very concentrated and focused expression making his usually stern face appear even more stony, serious and unapproachable.
He was very carefully and precisely slicing and measuring ingredients, some of which Hermione had never even known existed, and she found herself fascinated by the way he made the preparations look almost effortless, he was moving so confidently and quickly.
Eventually, he placed his wand at the base of the cauldron and murmured a spell, and even from across the room, Hermione could see the color change that meant the cauldron was heating.
He stirred it a few times, than looked up and for a moment appeared surprised that Hermione was watching him before his face shifted back to indifference and he sneered.
"It is not polite to stare, Miss Granger." he hissed, and Hermione had the good graces to blush before looking away.
"The potion must steep for one hour before the next step can be taken. I suggest you go to the Great Hall and nourish yourself, then return here and you can do a bit of work to repay me for my time wasted and the expensive ingredients that this little… incident has used up."
While he had been speaking, Severus had moved away from the cauldron and toward Hermione, and now he was less than a foot away from the student in his large desk chair.
She was dwarfed by it, and made to look-and feel-even smaller by the way the imposing Professor loomed high above her, his exceptional height punctuated by his words, their surroundings, and Hermione's posture.
"Yes, sir." she said simply, looking into his eyes unflinchingly. Her frank appraisal and obviously fearless gaze made him soften very slightly, and he graced her with a small, but no less sincere smirk.
"Do try to avoid undue strain to your midsection while you are out of the range of my watchful eyes, and you are to return alone. While I understand the difficulties a Gryffindor no doubt has withholding information from those around them, it would be wise to keep silent about both your injury and the fact that you are coming to me for anything other than much-needed discipline."
Hermione stared at him a moment as if trying to comprehend what she had just been told.
"You want me to tell people that I've received a detention with you?!" she demanded incredulously, cheeks reddening in insulted frustration and anger.
"Actually, a weeks-worth of detentions with me. Remember, seven doses over a span of seven days, Miss Granger."
Oh, he was enjoying this far too much, Hermione was certain.
"And what am I to say I've done wrong? I'm in my seventh year and I've never had a detention before! Not a-a real one at least!" she exclaimed, obviously outraged.
Yes, he was definitely enjoying this, if the ever-growing smirk on his face was anything to go by.
"You're a clever girl, Miss Granger. I am certain you will figure something out."