[A/N: I've found that I enjoy Severus's point of view more and was excited to write this chapter. How will he react to what he sees inside her mind?]

Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately. Main story plot is mine, but the rest all still belongs to J.K. Rowling. Oh how I wish it were mine.

He was thoroughly frustrated at her display of weakness. The Hermione Granger he'd known for so many years was anything but weak. And why on Earth would she beg to leave and remain injured? He couldn't comprehend her reasoning, and intended to figure out exactly what she meant.

Her attempts to hide her eyes from his sight were feeble and half-hearted, and although he was glad he didn't have to fight her, it only served to worry him more.

Where was her treasured Gryffindor spirit? As she opened her eyes and gave into him, he couldn't help but notice the total defeat within them.

Then he was lost inside the swirl of her mind, scrambling from memory to memory. Nonsensical clips, thoughts, and emotions that had him searching for more trying to make sense of it all.

She was in a muggle house, presumably hers, receiving her Hogwarts letter. Her hair overwhelmed the scene. He watched as she read anxiously, her parents hovering above her looking entirely too nervous about a piece of parchment.

Pain. So much pain.

It was her first year, and Harry and Ron were rescuing her from the troll. He watched his own figure limp through her memory, watching the young Hermione's eyes light with curiosity. Strange girl.

Fear. She was terrified.

The Yule Ball… she'd looked stunning. She'd caught every male's eye that night, including his unfortunately. She'd looked elegant and mature, different altogether from the sloppy, frivolous get-ups that the other children had on. His respect for her had grown further that night.

Lost. Confused.

There he was again, unconscious in front of Grimmauld Place. He watched as she launched herself down the stairs, tears streaming down her face and immediately began his care. Tch, she hadn't needed to make such a scene out of him. He was touched, yet glad he'd been unconscious for it.

Loneliness. That didn't make sense. How could she be lonely?

The final battle, her eyes focused on him once more. He'd been locked in the Dark Lord's gaze in immeasurable agony, and watching it from an outside point of view was quite strange indeed. She broke into a run, barely dodging numerous spells as she crossed the battlefield. Leaping, she pushed him to the ground and broke their eyesight. He'd been able to cast a quick healing spell on himself and leap to Harry's aid, who had taken his place battling the Dark Lord.

Despair. Granger had lost some of her hope for happily-ever-after, it seemed.

Her wedding day. He was unaware that she'd been married. She looked positively radiant as she walked down the isle towards… not the weasel? This man was handsome, yet his eyes shone with a sort of malicious intent that was all too familiar to Severus.

Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. What the hell, Granger?!

She was lying on the floor, crying as he kicked her. A look of extreme disbelief was on her face.

She was cowering in front of him as he screamed at her and slapped her across the face repeatedly. The tears flowing down her face made each hit sound stranger and louder as his hand made contact with her wet cheek.

She was running down a hallway trying to escape him, only to be caught and pushed down the stairs. She looked so broken, curled up at the bottom of the steps.

She was being tied down and assaulted. Her broken eyes stared hauntingly up at him.

The memories flashed endlessly of the pain she'd been through. Withdrawing from her mind in shock, he held firmly to her chin. Immediately she gasped as she felt the intrusion leave and tears began streaming down her face as she comprehended everything he'd seen.

"Granger, what have you done to your life?" He tried to question as gently as he could, yet he was still trying to process all that he'd seen. Where were her faithful lapdogs? Shouldn't they be protecting her?

He tried to place the last time that Harry and Ron had appeared in her memories, and couldn't remember anything more recent than the final battle. Had they missed her wedding as well? Scoundrels.

He watched as she gulped and clenched her eyes shut, trying to slow the tears. Her small hands slowly rose and grasped his hand lightly, tugging it away from her chin. Even her pull was more of a request than a demand, though. Everything was all wrong.

"Please, I need to get back. I've been gone far too long." He sat, bewildered, as she pleaded to return to somewhere and someone that only held pain for her.

"Are you that blind? You'd be going back to receive even more injuries." He'd have none of that.

"You don't understand. He loves me."

"Bullocks, Granger! Where has your sense of reason gone?" He was furious. Weren't her friends supposed to keep things like this from happening? This wasn't his responsibility. He should be quietly enjoying his Christmas right now, not babysitting Hermione Granger.

She fell silent, sitting back on the bed and dropping his hand. She was cowering, and it was pathetic. It was almost as though she feared him, which was just absurd. This Daniel guy was the only scum around worth fearing.

He tried to calm himself and gather his thoughts, trying to keep any anger from his face or voice. He was furious with her for leaving herself in such a situation, yet he knew that she'd interpret the anger entirely differently at this point. Granger would no longer see concern, just punishment.

Rising, he strode quickly from the room and into the kitchen. He kept a small store of potions here, yet it would be enough for now. He'd return to his lab only if necessary. He didn't want to leave her alone with only those memories.

Grabbing a few bottles, he returned to her side. Placing them on the bedside table, he sat down in his chair once more.

"Granger, you will remain here until you are fully healed. Once you are healed, it is your choice where you go, yet I will have to hope that you have the sense to take this opportunity to leave that wretched excuse for a man. This house is unplottable and entirely unknown. The only owl that knows the way is Minerva's."

She turned and stared directly at him, her gaze far more uncomfortable than he'd expected. He'd spoken without any choice in the matter, which was the way he saw it. Yet when she looked at him with those broken eyes, he wasn't sure what she'd be able to talk him into.

"…He can't get me here?" Well, that wasn't what he expected. Guess caving easily was a part of the new, submissive Granger.

"No, Granger, you're safe here."

"Safe…" She repeated his words slowly, and he laughed sadly and silently to himself. It was scary, really, how she could make it sound like such a novel concept. She should never have to worry about feeling safe, and here she'd forgotten what it was like entirely.

Standing, he handed her 2 of the bottles he'd brought with him. Her questioning eyes filled him with such momentary relief that he was surprised. He wasn't expecting to feel such reassurance that she still maintained some of her inquisitive nature.

"One replenishes your nutrients, since you are very weak from hunger and dehydration. At this point, I don't know how your stomach would handle food so we'll begin with the potion. The other is a calming draught, so I can begin to heal your wounds. When I've done enough, I have a dreamless sleep potion for you as well."

He watched as she absorbed all of this, paused for a moment, and then nodded cautiously at him. Thank Merlin, she was done throwing fits about him treating her. It was definitely time to get started on her injuries before she changed her mind.

Shaking his head, he began his work. It was going to be a long, dreary Christmas.