To Save A Serpent

Blood pulsed hard through her veins. Her heart was racing. She barely felt the old stone floor beneath her feet as she ran. Too many people, there were too many people, all of which were in her way. It seemed to take ages, running as fast as she could through the people, pushing and tearing through them, deeper into the crowd and she could see. There was a large huddle of tightly formed Order members all kneeling over him.

“Move!” she shouted, practically knocking Minerva McGonagall right off her feet. Hermione yanked another person from the circle and fell to her knees, eyes wide and teary. The color drained from her face. “F-Fred?” she cried.

A weary looking and very confused Fred Weasley stared up at him from his half seated position on the floor amidst the crowd. “H-Hermione,” he tried to smile, reaching out a hand to her.

Tears filled her eyes. “You’re alive,” she said, and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Fred began to cough.

“Easy, Hermione, the man’s just woken from the land of the dead,” said George. “You’ll be sending him straight back there with that grip.” The twins chuckled as Fred leaned back out of her arms.

“Never knew you cared so much,” he said and pecked her sloppily on the cheek. It was Molly Weasley’s weeping shriek that caught her attention as the woman came barreling through the crowd, nearly knocking Hermione over.

“Fred! Oh Fred! Oh God, Fred!” The woman was weeping uncontrollably as she pulled her son into her arms. “Oh God, I thought we’d lost you!” her voice was quaking and her body was trembling.

“Mum, give him some bloody space, you and Hermione are going to strangle the life right back out of him,” George snapped and tried to help pry his mother’s loving embrace from his twin.

The commotion seemed to swirl around her, and there were many joyful tears, much chatter and laughter, but it was all a swirled blur to her ears. Her heart seemed to stop, and her stomach felt cold, filled with a nasty ball of ice that simply would not melt. Before she knew it, Hermione found herself back outside, seated once more on the grand steps that led up to the main entrance, her head buried once more in her hands.

“I never realized you cared so much for Fred…” a voice caught her ear but she did not look up. “And I always figured George to be the handsome one.” Bill Weasley had taken a seat beside her. His attempt at humor was hardly able to rouse her from her sobbing fit. “Hermione,” he said softly and put a hand on her back.

“Please don’t, Bill,” her voice was cold and as her eyes rose to meet his they were empty, a gaping brown void into the soul that should have been.

He sighed and pulled her closer to him, wrapping a great arm around her, guiding her head to his chest. “I know I’m not Remus,” he muttered. “But I’ve seen him be there to comfort all you young witches,” he said and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “And I know—” He had been fortunate, losing a brother that he hadn’t actually lost after all had to pale in comparison to what she was going through. “You can’t be mad at Ginny for explaining what she did to me, but I know what you’re going through is difficult.”

She gave in. Sobs wracked her body and she clung to the warmth of his chest, trying to chase out the cold. He was the least likely person to have been in that position, her comforting shoulder and chest to cry on, but he was there and she couldn’t hold back any longer. “He— he—” she hiccoughed, choking and spluttering through her tears.

“Shh, Hermione, I know.” Bill was gentle as he stroked her hair.

“No! You don’t know!” she cried but did not make to push him away. “He never meant to hurt George! He had to kill Dumbledore! He sacrificed everything! Everything to save us, to save Harry and me and the rest of the wizarding world, even his life! It’s not fair!” she wailed. “You’ve got all seven Weasleys in tact once more perfect family all pieced back together and what does he have? We can’t even give him a proper burial because they lost his body!” Her fists flailed wildly. Tendrils of curls flew everywhere from the nape of her neck as she shook herself hard, screaming, practically pounding on Bill’s chest.

He didn’t dare try and stop her. Wrapping both arms around her tighter, he scooped the girl up into his arms, but she only pounded and shrieked harder and louder.

“He— he was the greatest— damn it! He didn’t deserve to die!” Her voice cracked and she wailed, shrieking, almost inhuman noises escaping her. Bill was grateful that the others had stayed inside, all gathered around Fred. “I loved him!” she shouted, her voice all but gone, straining to be heard. “I loved him and I didn’t tell him!” The hot tears burned her eyes but she could no longer feel. Everything was numb.

~*~

“Stop, Hermione,” he grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them above her head against the shower wall with his left hand. Her eyes smoldered as she gazed up in defiance. “I’m going to be late. There’s no time to play.” The steamy shower water pounded down on his back. She leaned back against the wall, her naked body glistening with beads of moisture. “You can have the shower when I’m done if you so need it, right now I need you out of it.”

There was something, a hybrid flicker of anger and hurt. Letting go of her wrists had been a huge mistake. Both of her hands flew hard at his chest, nearly knocking him off his feet as he tumbled back, catching himself by the curtain rod. “I’m not a child! So stop treating me like one!” she spat and then grabbed his hips firmly in her hands.

“Then stop acting like one!” he growled and forced her back once more against the wall but her hands were too quick to be bound again. She shifted her weight and lunged forward, forcing him back but he forced himself against her and they were both pressed together growling at one another.

“You can’t always have it your way!”

“It’s my way, Miss Granger. No highway option—”

“Don’t start Miss Granger-ing me!” she hissed and dug her nails into the flesh of his abdomen. He let out a hiss and grabbed her hips, thrusting them hard back against the wall once more.

“Stop behaving like some mudblood bitch in heat, woman!” he growled. His eyes were swimming in a sea of anger and he’d hardly registered the words. Those same words had gotten him in trouble with the only ever other love of his life. But the wide eyed shock said it all and before he could part his lips to even attempt an apologize her palm came crashing down hard across his face, slapping it until it flew in the other direction.

“OH! I hate you!” she spat, and kicked him roughly in the shin before ripping back the curtain and stomping out of the shower. The curtain hung limply from half the rod, dragging on the tiled floor of the bathroom, shower spray going everywhere. “Unimaginable bastard!” she shouted from the other room.

“Insufferable child!” he shouted. “Argh!” he ducked just in time to avoid being smacked with a vase that shattered into shards against the shower wall. “Are you mad, woman?” he growled and tore from the shower, leaving the water running. He nearly slipped, catching himself only on the towel rack, but his foot caught on a shard and he began to bleed. “Damnit!”

“You’re a foul, loathsome, arrogant, snide, fucking Death Eater!” she shouted as she stormed across the bed, gathering her clothing into her arms, not even bothering to put it on.

“Who has wasted his time in trying to teach some pathetic know-it-all muggleborn ninny a concept that is far beyond the grasping capabilities of her puny lump of a brain!”

“OH!” she scoffed and threw her boot at him. It hit him hard in the shoulder. Charging straight at him, shoulder bent much like a muggle Rugby player, she crashed into his chest. He hadn’t expected her to be so strong and he nearly pitched of balance. “Supercilious, god awful prick!” she growled and sank her nails into him once more. She could feel the flesh peeling up under her nail bed and the warm crimson liquid that followed.

He practically howled, grabbing her by the hair and flinging her back from his person. She landed on her bum, hard against the floor. But she sprang at once to her feet. “I hate you! I hate you!” she spat, having lost all of her previously collected clothing. Hermione had lunged at him once more, but he grabbed her around the middle and they struggled, wet bodies sliding against each other until the both fell forward onto the bed, she grabbing and yanking at his hair, he trying to force her off him.

She bit him. He growled. Their eyes furiously locked with one another, her legs kicking at him, his body trying to pin her down. Rolling to her side she scrambled to mount his back and began to mercilessly pound him down with her fists. “I hate you! I hate you!” she screamed again as he twitched and tried to buck her from atop his person.

Managing to flip himself over, but not dislodge her from his body, Severus had her pinned awkwardly with one leg over her hip and her leg over his chest. They were panting, each growling, and their eyes met again. Her hand shot forward, wrapping tight around his thick neck, the other caught against his own hand and he slowly began to bend her fingers back as she began to choke the air from his throat.

She winced feeling her knuckles popping as he strained trying not to turn purple. She saw the mark burn before she heard him cry and at once her fingers left his neck. He shot up from the bed, grabbed a cloak from the nightstand whirled it around his figure and in an instant he was gone.

***
Several hours later, Severus had snuck back into the castle, having hidden his mask and hood deep inside the coat of the cloak he transfigured. His hands were still stained with blood but there had not been time to cleanse them thoroughly. As he slipped silently back into his chambers he noted the silence and his heart sank just a little. Whatever pleasurable relations he’d had with Hermione Granger, he was certain they had come to an end after their rather explosive argument from earlier.

But as he entered his bedchambers he was surprised to see them dimly lit by a few candles and a small ball was huddled under the sheets on his side of the bed. He quirked a brow and stepped out of his boots, taking off the cloak, rending his freshly marked body naked and quivering, in some places still stained with blood, though whether it was his or the victim’s it was difficult to tell.

Carefully he approached the bed, and with his toe he nudged the back of her. He found himself forced to the mattress, pinned with a heavy weight on his back, and a wand pointed harshly at his temple, the ball of sheets that he’d assumed to be her having all but disappeared beneath him. “If you ever call me a mudblood again, so help me, Severus Snape, I will hex your testicles off, and make you wear them as earrings…” she hissed, keeping a firm pressure on his back.

He did not try to fight her, his body too weak from the revel and several rounds of a mild cruciatus curse to even begin to hold his own against her. There was silence but he cried out as she pushed her wand tip harder into the side of his head. She hadn’t noticed the blood that stained his body until she twisted his head to the side, forcing him to look up over his shoulder in a pained position at her.

Her face froze, the blood smeared across his lips, down his neck and as she slowly moved off his back, she noticed the markings, hot burned markings slashed all over his back. Hermione stepped back, as if waiting for him to get up and when he didn’t, she drew a calm breath, though her hand was shaking and the tugged his shoulder over, turning him onto his back. “I’m still furious with you. I still h— ha—” but she could not bring herself to say it, not gazing at the claw like wounds across his torso. “I think you need help, Severus,” she said, unable to mask the extreme concern and worry in her voice, as she helped guide his exhausted body up to sitting.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “A rogue arrogant prick such as myself can handle these things,” he said though he winced a bit trying to draw in a steadying breath.

Hermione shook her head. “And stubborn, arrogant and stubborn prick, and I don’t care. You look like hell.” She was trying to be harsh, trying to keep herself collected, but seeing him in such a state nearly wiped from her mind their very physical and very hurtful fight.

It took nearly an hour to get all of his wounds cleaned, she had insisted on doing them by hand, the more thorough way and when he had refused to be taken to the mediwitch, she had insisted she wasn’t going anywhere until he was properly taken care of. She’d worked in silence, only nodding as he’d explained some of the more complex potions she had sought out in his storeroom, applying salves and creams all over him, wiping the blood away. There had been so much of it, and with him still mostly alive and breathing she assumed very little of it to be his.

She’d left him sitting on a stool in the bathroom for a moment and with a wave of her wand sent his linens down the laundry chute, replacing them with fresh ones. Several scourgifying charms had the floors and any other surface that blood dirt and mud had been tracked onto, looking decent. His robes and boots had also gone down the laundry chute and she returned to him holding a pair of flannel pajamas.

Severus let his head lull forward. It was one of the quicker recoveries he’d experienced after the revels. The sound of her clearing her throat brought his attention back up and she offered him the pajamas. Shaking his head he drew himself shakily to his feet and moved past her and sat on the bed, naked and still shaking somewhat, an unavoidable after effect of the Cruciatus curse. With a sigh, she put the pajamas on the trunk at the foot of the bed. Turning down the sheets she helped him into bed and then moved into the bathroom for a moment.

Another few cleansing charms had the place looking as though nothing had happened. After having slowly stripped of her clothes, she doused the lights and came around to her side of the bed and slipped into it. His voice was shaky as he spoke. “I think it best, Miss Granger, if you return to your rooms.”

She was still for a moment, rolled over and then got out of the bed. Her face appeared before his as she knelt down on the floor beside him. He tried to turn his face away but her hands were too quick, holding it in place, watching the silent tears stream down his face. Her lips were quick to catch them and try as he might to pull back, she didn’t allow him.

The words that nearly melted her heart all at once had her gingerly climbing over him and back into the bed as he slowly turned to face her. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, a trembling arm coming around her body.

She closed her eyes for a moment and gently moved as close to his body as she could without causing him further pain. “Severus…” she bit her lower lip. “I—” her breath fell into a sigh. “I’m sorry too.”

“No.” he said, “Don’t be.” His eyes searched hers a moment. “Never again, I don’t want that to happen ever again,” he whispered, and pulled her closer, despite the slight discomforting pressure against his ribs. “I promise you, it will never happen again, I’m sorry.” His lips brushed hers and she trembled.

“I forgive you,” tears were almost to her eyes but he caught them, brushing them away. “I need you.” She’d longed to tell him that she loved him but just couldn’t find the courage in her tongue to do so.

He nodded, slowly, protectively hugging her to him. “I know, I think I need you too.” They had slept, holding each other close, Hermione trembling most of the night in his arms. She had thoroughly intended to teach him a hard lesson about pain and trust, but those thoughts had fled her mind when he’d nearly crumbled beneath her. She never even bothered to bring the fight up again, and nor did he, but their relationship after that night had grown more deeply involved, more intense, and she could hardly stand to be apart from him, and so it seemed was true for him as well.

~*~

“I—” Hermione sobbed, having finally stopped thrashing against Bill. “I told him I hated him! We— I— Oh God! Bill!” she whimpered, her face cracked and broken, covered in tears, dried and fresh. “I loved him! I loved him!” She wept, and wept, draining her body to exhaustion and before either had realized it, she’d broken down right to sleep in the eldest Weasley’s arms.