#2 ~ What Was I Thinking ~ Part 2 (Small Edit)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine.
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Chapter 13 ~ A Difficult Severus is a Cured Severus

The next morning, Hermione was awakened by a barely audible groan. Raising her eyes, she saw Severus’ hand lift weakly. She leapt out the cot and was at his side in a moment.

“Severus. Severus?” she breathed, brushing the tangle of morning hair out of her face and gazing down at him intently.

The dark eyes opened. They turned to her.

“Wa….wa…water. Please,” he croaked through dry, chapped lips.

“Yes…water…yes!” she squeaked. Quickly rising from her now-conscious patient, she fought through the thick fabric of the surrounding privacy curtain and retrieved a pitcher and glass from a nearby table. She returned to his bedside, set the items down and pulled up chair. Hands trembling, she poured a half glass of water. Lifting his head slightly, she put the glass to his lips, and tilted it. He drank it down thirstily. As she watched the liquid disappear, she was reminded of their brief interlude during her sixth year. It was very much the same.

When he finished, she carefully placed his head back on the pillows.

His dark eyes fixed hers.

“How…long?” he whispered.

“A little less than twenty-four hours,” she replied with a smile, her heart feeling as if it might explode with joy. He was all right. He would make it.

Severus closed his eyes as he processed her answer. He was aware of very little pain, only some soreness. It normally took several weeks before he felt this good after suffering the Dark Lord’s tortures. One day? It was amazing.

He opened his eyes and looked at Hermione. No, she was amazing. She had worked this miracle, he was sure of it, noting the dark circles under her eyes, and the bird’s nest falling around her face. She hadn’t brushed it for days. A sure sign that she had been focused on some project to the exclusion of all else. He closed his eyes again and swallowed.

“Thank you,’ he whispered before dropping back off to sleep.

Hermione stared at him for a long while. He was alive. Alive. And they had found an effective treatment for curing the recurring effects of the Cruciatus Curse. Suddenly remember where she was, she hurried to tell Madame Pomfrey of Severus’ return to consciousness. The medi-witch rushed over, and gave him a once-over with her wand, the tip glowing with a bright blue light as it passed over his body. Hermione watched her intently, holding her breath.

With a satisfied grunt, Madame Pomfrey then pulled down the bedsheet, opened Severus’ gown and examined his bruises and cuts. The bruising had healed nicely overnight, only a few reddened welts remained. She quickly ran her hands over his body. His cock twitched, Hermione noted, a little relieved. Poppy expertly rolled him over, examined his back, then rolled him back, buttoned up his gown, and covered him again with the sheet.

“Very good work, Miss Granger. Very good work,” she said, smiling, “It seems that our Potions Master is definitely out of danger. Which means he will become quite unbearable in a very short time. He always does when he’s feeling better. Another indication of improved health, I might add,” she said with a grim little smile. Hermione allowed herself to breathe again, delighted.

Pomfrey’s battles with Severus in the hospital wing were legendary. The professor hated it there and preferred to convalese in his private rooms, away from annoying visitors, bland, tasteless meals, and rubbernecking, bed-ridden students who wasted no time spreading rumors of his impending demise around Hogwarts proper as soon as released. His students were always disappointed when he swooped, as snarky and bad-tempered as ever, into the Potions classroom.

“I thought he was dead,” they’d hiss angrily at one another.

This always amused him, before he assigned three feet or more of parchment on what was covered in his absence, due next class, of course.

Yes, he was a hard case to have for a patient. As soon as he was able to sit up without assistance, he was ready to “retreat to the batcave” as Pomfrey described his return to the dungeons. The ensuing battle was always a good fight, with Pomfrey managing to squeeze another three or four days of rest out of him before folding. But looking at his progress this morning, she was relatively sure he would be screaming for release on the morrow. It was amazing, really.

She turned to Hermione. “Now, young lady, that your Potions Master has been snatched from the precipice, I expect you to go down to your rooms, get a shower, wash your hair and get some food in your belly.”

“But…” Hermione protested.

“No. No arguments this time, Miss Granger. Severus is out of danger, and you can return to your duties. You can visit him later, after you have seen to yourself.”

“But, Dumbledore..” she tried again, weakly.

“I will inform the Headmaster of Severus’ quick recovery. Now you go.” Poppy snapped with finality.

Hermione finally caved in. She really could use a nice, hot shower and good hair washing. Not to mention something to eat. She turned to the medi-witch.

“All right, but if there is any change…” she began

“I will let you know directly. Now, out of my hospital wing, Miss Granger. There’s only room for one healer here,” she winked at the young witch, “though I believe you would be a wonderful addition to our field. Outstanding.”

Hermione smiled. Giving Severus one more joyful look, she exited the ward, heading for her rooms.

“Hmm,” she thought as she stood on a moving stairwell, “maybe I can take another minor in healing. It’s very rewarding work.”

She continued down the long, dark corridor, deep in thought.

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Madame Pomfrey’s prediction about Severus was very astute, but sadly lacking in timing. He was complaining about the broth by evening. Sitting up in the bed, scowling, with his arms crossed, he stubbornly refused to open his mouth again after tasting the first spoonful of soup.

“Severus, come now,” Madame Pomfrey cajoled, waving the spoon under his nose tantalizingly, “you have to eat something to regain your strength.”

Severus scowled harder and said, “Madame, if I want water, I’ll drink water. That tasteless slop you’re trying to toss down my throat will keep me weak as a kitten.” He pointed one long accusing finger at the aggravated medi-witch. “I know what you’re trying to do. You are trying to keep me imprisoned here. I won’t stand for it. Now, bring me something with meat and vegetables in it. Immediately.”

Poppy lifted pleading eyes to Dumbledore, who had been standing by silently, watching the stand-off with a droll expression. Behind the half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes twinkled merrily. His Potions Master was back and in good form as far as he could see. Attempting to mollify the medi-witch, he said, “Severus, be reasonable.”

Severus turned his black eyes to meet the Headmaster’s blue ones evenly.

“Not meaning to be disrespectful, Headmaster, but I have been recovering from the Cruciatus Curse in this ward for several years now. I know when I am ready to eat. I am ready to eat, not suck on soup…bad soup at that.”

Albus was about to reply when the curtain parted, and Hermione entered. Her face lit up with delight at seeing the disgruntled Severus sitting up in bed. And scowling.

“Miss Granger, thank goodness,” Madame Pomfrey said, rising and pushing the bowl of broth and spoon into the startled witch’s hands, “maybe you can get him to eat something.”

Hermione looked down at the soup uncertainly. It looked like dirty soapwater.

“Er…” she started before Severus cut her off.

“I am perfectly willing to eat something. Just not that,” he said stubbornly.

“Well,” said Hermione carefully, “it really doesn’t look very appetizing…”

“It doesn’t matter how it looks, Miss Granger. It is nutritious, that’s all that matters,” Pomfrey snapped, miffed that she didn’t find an ally in Hermione.

“Hardly, Madame,” countered Severus. “You may have made me swallow that swill when I was an invalid and unable to defend myself, but as you can see, I am very much aware of what you would have me consume, and I highly protest this disregard for my preferences. I will not eat that. And if you are as concerned about my health as you insist you are, you will get me some soup with meat and vegetables immediately. That is all I have to say on this matter!” he said with a snap. He closed his mouth tightly, reminding Hermione of a stubborn child.

“Fine!” said Madame Pomfrey, throwing her arms in the air in exasperation, “I will have a house-elf bring you up some soup from the kitchens. If you get irritated bowels, don’t blame me.”

She slapped her apron for emphasis, then stalked away.

Hermione placed the soup down on the table, turning her head away from Severus so he wouldn’t see her grin. He was as disagreeable as ever. She couldn’t be happier.

“Well, Severus.” Albus said, looking from Hermione to the Potions Master and back again. “It seems Miss Granger’s efforts on your behalf have paid off handsomely.”

“Madame Pomfrey helped a great deal, Headmaster,” Hermione demurred, slightly embarrassed of the praise, “without her, I wouldn’t have been able to find a solution.”

“Your modesty is commendable, Miss Granger, “ Albus replied, looking kindly over his glasses at her, “but the fact remains that Pomfrey simply did what she usually does in this situation. It was your intellect, dedication and determination that got our Potions Master out of danger so swiftly. We are in your debt.”

Hermione blushed, and dropped her head.

“Yes, Miss Granger,” Severus said, his dark eyes studying the young witch, “I am very much in your debt. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Professor,” she replied softly.

A long silence followed as their eyes met.

Albus cleared his throat. Both Hermione and Severus broke out of their reverie, and looked at him.

“I must be going,” the Headmaster announced, “I am delighted at your quick recovery Severus, and look forward to seeing you back at work.”

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Severus replied.

Dumbledore nodded at Hermione. “Miss Granger.”

Hermione nodded back. “Headmaster.”

With a smile, Albus turned and fought his way through the privacy curtains. They were alone. Hermione turned back to Severus.

“May I sit down?” she asked timidly, half afraid he was going to dismiss her.

Severus nodded toward the chair next to his bed.

“Certainly,” he replied.

Hermione sat, clasping her hands together nervously as he watched her expectantly. After a moment, Severus said impatiently, “Well, are you going to sit there like a voiceless doxy all evening or do you have something to say?”

Ooh. He was still a bastard. And before she could stop herself, she told him so.

He smirked in satisfaction.

“You have an interesting bedside manner, Miss Granger. Have you considered minoring in Healing? You could curse your patients back to health,” he said curtly.

Hermione’s fists clenched and unclenched on her lap. Her amber eyes flashed dangerously. Severus enjoyed her display of temper.”

“You…you…you…Slytherin!” she spat, too angry for words.

“Yessss. That I am, Miss Granger. That I am.” The purr was back. Hermione was too ticked-off to appreciate it however.

She opened her mouth to say something, when there was a small pop. Hermione turned to see a house-elf, holding a bowl of steaming soup in its hands. The soup looked delicious, full of chicken and vegetables. A savory aroma filled the air.

Hermione took the bowl from the elf, then did a double-take.

“Eli!” she said, surprised and pleased to see the house-elf again. “What are you doing here?”

“Yes,” growled Severus, “What are you doing here, Eli?”

The house-elf cowered under the Potion Master’s disapproving glare.

“Eli was concerned about Master,” the house-elf said, dipping his head, “When Master did not return to the Manor to give his weekly instructions, Eli came to Hogwarts to seek Master out. To see if Master was in need of Eli.”

The house-elf’s large green eyes shimmered wetly as he looked at Severus, whose mouth was drawn in a thin line at the elf’s display of affection and concern.

“When Master was not in his rooms, Eli asked Dumbledore where Master was. Very bad. Very bad.” The elf’s lip trembled.

“Dumbledore said Eli could stay if he wished, to wait for Master. And Eli did, wanting to be of service…” The elf smiled broadly then.

“And Master returned. And Master’s Best Secret made him well. Now Eli can serve Master soup and get instructions, and tell all others that Master is fine.’

“Master’s Best Secret?” Severus said darkly.

The elf clapped his hands over his mouth, horrified he had reveal his pet name for Hermione.

“He means me, Severus,” Hermione said, looking kindly on the horrified elf.

Severus glared at the little creature, whose terrified eyes looked up at him. The poor elf was cringing, waiting for the outburst. Hermione was watching him too, her eyes begging him not to be cruel to the little creature. Severus sighed.

“Return to the Manor, Eli. I will be fine. But…we will talk later,” he said sharply.

The elf almost slumped in relief. “Yes, Master. Eli will return to the Manor. Eli is most happy you are not dead, Master. You are kind to house-elves, sir.”

Severus wished Eli would just go. He didn’t need all this affectionate groveling.

“Go now, Eli,” he grumped, waving his hand agitatedly.

“Yes, sir,” the little elf replied. He turned to Hermione with a sly smile and mouthed, “Good-bye, Master’s Secret” before disappearing with a pop.

Severus turned accusing eyes on Hermione. “Master’s Best Secret?”

Hermione stirred the soup.

“What is this about, Hermione?” Severus asked impatiently, reverting to her given name in his anger.

Hermione looked up at him. “Promise me you won’t punish Eli first,” she said stubbornly.

Severus looked surprised. “Punish Eli? Why would I…oh never mind. Fine. I won’t punish him. Now tell me.”

Hermione lifted up a spoonful of delicious looking vegetables.

“Don’t you want your soup?” she asked, hoping to stall.

“No. It’s too hot. You can feed it to me when it cools. Now tell me,” Severus replied imperiously.

Hermione sighed.

“It’s a name he gave me, the night I visited you…at the Manor, when I found out you were housing the muggle families.”

Severus looked interested. “Continue,” he said.

“Well, he was the elf I persuaded to tell me how to find you that night. He said he only did it because I was good for you. He said he kept all his Master’s secrets. And I was your best secret.”

Severus thought about this. He had never known a house-elf to take an interest in his Master’s personal affairs. But then again, he wasn’t aware of Eli’s affection for him either. How did he know about Hermione anyway? Extraordinary. He would definitely have to talk with the house-elf. It seemed there was more to him than met the eye.

“And then?” he encouraged her to go on.

“And then, I found you in the library. And we…we talked…” Here Hermione flushed with the memory of Severus’ crude attempt at seducing her…and making his offer of availability, as well as his declaration he would have her again. Her belly leapt. He had been right.

“Then I left, and met him again, by the front door.”

“Is there anything more?” Severus inquired, his eyes studying her face intently for any sign of deception.

“He said he thought our meeting didn’t go well, and I told him I thought…” her voice trailed off.

“You thought what?” Severus asked, his brow back to its familiar arch.

Hermione squared her shoulders and looked him directly in his eyes.

I told him I thought his Master was one big, bloody, over-sexed git, who I didn’t want to lay eyes on again,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly, still cradling the bowl of soup in her hands.

Severus looked at her, a strange expression on his face.

“Is that all?” he asked her.

“No,” Hermione replied, dropping her eyes from his, “He said I ought to think again.”

Remarkable. A house-elf pleading his Master’s case to a woman he obviously thinks is good for him. Just remarkable. Ten points to Snape Manor.

“And did you think again?” Severus asked her softly.

“Obviously, since you fucked me raw against the wall of my living room,” she spat out, then clasped one hand over her mouth in horror at the vehemence and vulgarity of her answer.

Severus simply looked at her. His eyes were unreadable.

“Feed me my soup, please,” he said

Her face bright red, Hermione scooped up some soup onto the spoon, and offered it to him. Severus opened his mouth, and she slid it in. He closed his mouth on the spoon gently, and she slid the spoon from between his lips. She didn’t take her eyes off his lips.

Severus watched her as he chewed slowly. Damn, that soup was good. He swallowed. Hermione still looked at his mouth, the empty spoon half-raised.

Severus looked in her mind. She was kissing him, passionately. He pulled out quickly. He didn’t need to see that.

Severus cleared his throat, and Hermione started as if awakened from a dream.

“Er…more?” Severus asked, eyebrows raised, dark eyes meeting hers.

“Oh…yes.” She replied, filling the spoon again and lifting it to his mouth.

This continued until the bowl was finished. Hermione fished in her pocket for a tissue, and dabbed at his mouth, as he looked at her, amused.

“There was a little soup on the corner of your mouth,” she explained weakly, as she realized what she was doing. Babying Severus Snape. If anyone had told her she’d be doing this five years ago, she would have hexed them. Plain and simple.

Severus nodded. “Thank you,” he said, with a bit of a smirk at her discomfiture. He felt full and sleepy. His eyelids started to droop.

Hermione, noticing his tiredness, pulled the empty bowl to her breast, and stood up. Severus’ eyes opened again and looked up at her.

“You’re tired,” she said, looking down at him, “I should go.”

Severus nodded sleepily.

She sat the empty bowl on the table. “Here, let me help you lie down,” she said, reaching around his shoulders and helping him to slide down into the bed. This brought her face very close to his, so close she could feel his heat. He could smell her jasmine-scented hair. She flushed as he locked his eyes on her quietly as he slipped into position.

Hermione stood up. “Good night, Severus,” she said, starting to turn away.

“Hermione,” Severus called to her in a low voice.

“Yes, Severus?” she answered, her amber eyes meeting his.

“You didn’t come here tonight to argue with me, and feed me soup, did you?” he asked, his eyes half-lidded and lazy.

“No,” she admitted. “I wanted to see…if I could talk to you…”

He sleepily waved his hand at her.

“You saved my life. The least I can do is talk to you. We will talk, I assure you. Go get some rest. You deserve it.”

“Yes,” she replied, “Thank you, Severus. Good night.”

“Good night,” he replied.

She slipped out the curtain and was gone.

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Severus lay there, letting welcome sleep wash over him. He felt good. Very good. He relaxed and let the sandman come. The last image in his mind was that of Hermione’s thought of kissing him. His last thought was it shouldn’t and couldn’t happen.

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A/N: I’m starting to get a little thirsty…how about you all? Ice cold, ice cold. * g * Hmm, ever hear the quote “turnabout is fair play”? Please keep reading, and thank you all for the reviews. This story would have been over long ago if not for them. ***