Broken Wings

She awoke screaming, feeling blazing flames engulfing her lower half. Flailing mindlessly on the bed, she howled in pain.

Two strong hands clasped around her upper arms and held her still, as a deep voice spoke gently to her. "Hermione," Snape said. "It's all right."

It took her endless moments to snap out of it, to understand she had been suffering from more nightmares. Only they weren't nightmares, not really; nightmares implied that the events stayed solely in the dream realm and couldn't hurt her. But each night she was reliving the horror she had faced, burning from the inside out, struggling to claw her way out of the past.

"It's not all right," she finally replied, brokenly, as she reached down to cover her abdomen with her hands. She could feel the prominent scars through the thin nightgown covering her skin. She didn't feel scarred - she felt as if she were branded, branded by a terror that would never end. "It'll never be all right."

"Hush," Snape commanded, but his tone was light. "Drink this." He tipped a vial to her mouth, which she resisted. His hand brushed over her hair, and he lifted her head as he titled the vial. "It will soothe you. Drink."

She accepted the liquid, too weak to fight him. She licked her lips and shifted her legs slightly, wishing she could move more, but at the same time not wanting to ever move. Feeling helpless and hopeless at the same time wasn't an ideal combination. "When will the nightmares stop?" she whispered, seeking his eyes in the dark.

"Give it time," he told her, his hand still on her head. As if realizing this, he retreated from her side and returned to the chair next to the bed. "They will cease, but it will take time." His voice hinted that he knew all too well that such things took time.

A tear rolled down Hermione's cheek. "This life is a nightmare… it will never stop."

Snape remained silent.

"Severus, I forbid this. She needs her rest." Madam Pomfrey's voice was firm, unwavering.

"I will not sit by and watch her waste away in a hospital bed! She is losing herself," Snape warned, his voice hard.

"Surely, Poppy, just a stroll around the grounds wouldn't overtax her?" Minerva appealed to the nurse.

Hermione blinked her eyes open and turned her head slowly to see the headmistress, Madam Pomfrey, and Snape standing in a circle near her bed. Her brows furrowed. Couldn't everyone just leave her alone?

"What is going on?" she asked, voice cracking pitifully.

"There's been enough of this," Severus informed her in a growl. He strode to her side, robes billowing ominously. With a flourish he pulled back the sheets beneath which she was nestled, and then gingerly placed his hands under her body and lifted her from the bed.

She didn't fight, knowing she didn't have the strength to do so. She simply watched him with wide eyes and an incredulous expression.

"If she suffers a setback, I shall hold you responsible," Madam Pomfrey warned him, her eyes narrowed angrily. The witch had her hands on her hips, and was trying her best to look intimidating to a man who embodied intimidation.

Snape didn't reply, but instead focused on lowering Hermione carefully into the wheelchair he'd procured. He covered her lower half with a white blanket, and began to slowly roll her forward.

"What, exactly, do you think you're doing?" Hermione questioned as they made their way down the halls. She was embarrassed, irritated, and certainly too tired for this.

"You need fresh air," he groused.

"What I need is to go back to bed," she told him. "Please take me back." She opted for civility, even though she wanted to shout at him. He was the one steering her, however, so she thought it best to be pleasant.

"You've become increasingly insufferable," Snape informed her curtly. "Perhaps the sunlight will improve your mood."

"You're one to speak to me about moods, you great overbearing bat," she replied testily, quickly forgetting her diplomatic attitude. "How dare you."

He eased her chair out onto one of the many walking paths around the castle, grateful that it was summer and there were no curious students watching them.

"It seems I'm the only one who dares," he commented.

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, but she fought them back. He was right. She had been all alone, save for him. No one else was making an effort. Did she secretly wish for this? For someone to give a damn, and try to pull her out of the overbearing depression she'd succumbed to? No, of course not. She wanted to wallow. For as long as she felt like it, she wanted to wallow.

"Take me back this instant!" she yelled, stomping against the foot rest.

Snape ignored her. He continued down the path as she muttered curses at him the whole while, surprising him with her vulgar creativity. He slowed the wheeling chair as they came to the edge of the lake, shaded by large, lush trees. The water glittered as it reflected the sun. From time to time, a large shadow could be seen just below the surface.

"This will do nicely," he announced. He procured a thick blanket and stretched it out across the ground. Scooping her up, he set her down with her back against a tree trunk, and covered her again with the blanket from the ward. Then he began placing several books all around her.

Hermione stared at them through narrowed eyes. They were the books she used to teach in her Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, with a couple thrown in she could only guess were recommendations from him.

"The students will return in three weeks," he told her, settling down across from her with his own collection of books. "You need to begin gathering your lesson plans."

She gaped at him. The nerve of Severus Snape! She glared daggers at him until she realized he was better at ignoring her than she was at being indignant with him. Grudgingly she dragged "Boggarts and Their Weaknesses" toward her and opened the book.

"You could at least provide tea," she mumbled sourly.

She saw him smirk, and then he waved his wand.

"Thanks," she muttered. Typical that the one person who could stand to be around her right now was the one person who could outmatch her obstinance.