Needfire

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

who\'s most afraid of death? thou
art of him
utterly afraid, i love of thee
(beloved) this

and truly i would be
near when his scythe takes crisply the whim
of thy smoothness. and mark the fainting
murdered petals. with the caving stem.

But of all most would i be one of them

round the hurt heart which do so frailly cling . . . .
i who am but imperfect in my fear

Or with thy mind against my mind, to hear
nearing our hearts\' irrevocable play --
through the mysterious high futile day

an enormous stride
(and drawing thy mouth toward

my mouth, steer our lost bodies carefully downward)


--\" who\'s most afraid of death? thou \"

-- e.e.cummings


Chapter 28 - Blood and Circuses


\"Like this.\" Severus demonstrated yet again the correct sweep of the wand tip, with the butt of the wand unmoving. \"It\'s that circular motion of the very end that clears away the frost from the window.\"

\"It\'s more fun to breathe on it,\" said Hermione, doing so, melting away the complicated frost ferns and fractal flowers that had grown there overnight. \"Or, to write...these...words...\" and her fingertip etched her credo: \"Severus loves Hermione.\"

\"Foolish girl,\" said Severus. \"Don\'t call me Severus.\"

\"It\'s your name, isn\'t it? You call me Hermione.\"

\"No one calls me Severus anymore.\"

\"Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall do.\"

\"I\'ve asked them not to, but they don\'t listen.\" He scowled. \"Nor do you, it seems.\"

Snape wakened abruptly from his doze when Lucius\' elbow prodded him in the side. He made no sound upon wakening; it seemed his innate sense of self-preservation was still functional. He slid a glance to Lucius, who was watching him sidelong. He had gradually returned to Lucius\' good graces, after convincing Voldemort a couple of summonings past that Draco did not make a good window into Dumbledore\'s plans at Hogwarts, since the Headmaster would not be likely to share plans with a student. Snape continued to assure Voldemort he would find a way back into Hogwarts as well. Snape encouraged Voldemort to continue trying to see through Potter\'s eyes, knowing that Potter would go to Dumbledore if he detected the Evil Serpent Wizard\'s presence. The prat\'s scar would surely alert him.

His memory-dream of an early morning during the winter\'s only blizzard clung to his mind. His thoughts turned again to Hermione, and the sound of crockery smashing behind him as he left for this summoning. His lover had a temper, certainly. He smiled to himself, thinking about the intense pleasure of having fiery make-up sex with her when he got home. Normally he made love to her before leaving for a summoning, and then she would ward him against Voldemort\'s baser impulses towards pain and humiliation; but of late she had grown fretful and more anxious than usual over his departures, and this time they had argued. He was ready to return, even to her shrewish comments.

This summons was different. Voldemort seemed to be settling on a firmer time period; for some strange reason he felt he should wait until the graduation of the Hogwarts students. Snape saw no valid reason for this; the students would have obtained their educations to the fullest; they would have reached their maximum potential. Why wait, until the students were stronger warriors? Why not take them now, unripe, unwary, and unprepared?

\"This meeting will never end,\" murmured Lucius. \"I have better things to do at home, and surely you must attend to your pet...\"

\"Keep talking, and I promise I\'ll bring your son\'s name up again as an option,\" Snape murmured back.

\"...kneazle,\" finished Lucius, wickedly. \"Or, better yet, come home with me. We\'ll have some Jameson\'s and some chess.\"

\"Tempting, but don\'t I recall you bidding me never to return to the Manor?\"

\"I could be persuaded to change my mind. Narcissa misses you.\"

\"Narcissa misses me.\" Snape allowed himself the smallest upward curve of the corners of his mouth. \"But as you say, my...kneazle awaits. Thank you, Lucius, but after this I\'m going home.\"

\"Where is home, these days? Surely not your ancestral pile, I know you\'ve not been back there since your mother died. You\'re waiting for your father to expire, aren\'t you?\"

Snape said nothing. Lucius settled back, folding his arms, satisfied that he had prodded Snape into aggravation.

When the meeting finally ended, Snape Apparated home. He landed, as usual, just outside the cottage gate. He could see light in the kitchen windows, lit by ever-burning candles. She\'s still awake, he thought. She never left candles burning while they slept; it was too dangerous. All the kitchen windows were open to the night air. Snape could feel the night\'s stifling, near-thundery closeness, feel the sizzle of the charged ions waiting for release, like pressing his way through a weakened warding. The smell of the impending storm was strong in his sensitive nostrils.

As he pushed open the gate and stepped through, the Augurey shrieked mournfully from its bedraggled rooftop nest, untidier than any stork\'s would be; and launched its dark-winged body into the night air. In that moment, the rain came pouring down from the pendulous clouds. Snape cursed, running for the cottage door before he got too soaked, thinking of the herb seeds, not yet sprouted, and now likely washing out of their careful plantings. He stepped inside and swept off his cloak and mask, running a quick charm over them to dry them.

\"Hermione? Are you still awake?\" he called. His first and most anxious glances went to the trouble spots: the sink, with its potential pile of dirty dishes: empty. The back of the door, where the crockery had smashed: cleared. That damnable fireplace: clean, and empty, and cold. The bedroom, then, he thought to himself, smiling. A little spat followed by a rush to sensation and ecstasy. Ah, my little Gryffindor. He wandered to the bedroom, shaking the wrinkles from his cloak.

The bedroom was dark, unlike the kitchen. Snape stepped inside and heard a fearful yowling from under the bed, easily heard even over the roaring of the rain on the roof. \"Damnable kneazle,\" he muttered. \"Hermione, you must be awake after that noise. Am I forgiven? Or at least permitted to sleep next to you, if I\'m not forgiven?\"

There was no sound from the bed. Pouting, thought Snape, and murmured to his wand to conjure a soft light, not the bright throbbing glare of Lumos, but a glow, enough to see by.

The bed was strangely dark in places. Hermione lay sprawled, boneless and naked and still, hair over her face. Snape detected a new scent, one he had not smelled for a very long time.

That\'s blood, blood\'s smell, blood\'s darkness, there on those sheets...blood...a great deal of blood...

The cat was still yowling. The noise was both inside his brain and yet far away. It seemed Snape could not orient himself in the room, with that noise coming from everywhere, and the pounding of his own heart\'s blood in his ears.

\"LUMOS!” cried Snape, lunging for the bed. The flaring blue glare of his wandlight made the redness of the blood seem black on the whiteness of the sheets. Hermione\'s wand lay beside her on the bed, splotched with blood, and next to it was a scalpel.

\"No, no, no no no,\" he was stuttering, reaching to touch her neck, pushing aside the tumbled honey hair, frantically seeking a pulse in the deep part of her throat, finding none.

There was blood everywhere on the bed. Everywhere. The rational part of him reminded the irrational part of him that a little blood went a long way. His eyes darted wildly over her body. Blood streaked her thighs. Blood painted her small breasts. Blood matted her honey hair. Blood, more blood, pooled and sticky between her outstretched arms, where her limp hands lay next to her wand and her bright blade, dimmed with her life\'s fluid. All that\'s missing is Voldemort, thought Snape, dancing his dead Mudblood dance on our bed. Or my name, carved into the flesh of her arm, or written in blood upon the wall. Hermione loves Severus, till death do they part.

\"Fuck, oh, Hermione, no...\" His panicked fingers moved again on her neck; still nothing.

Prey sparrow, fallen to predator owl at last, evil Gnome King Snape, successful in his hunting...all heads have turned to see what I\'ve done...this Sleeping Beauty will never waken in her thorn-choked tower, not with such death-cold kisses as mine.

His hands moved to her wrists and forearms -- only they could be the source of this rich flood -- and there, beneath his fingers, he felt warmth, and the faintest of pulses, weakening as he touched them, and more blood, oozing past his fingertips as he pressed.

Snape dropped his wand on the bed and began shredding long strips from the sheet. He hurriedly bound her wrists, muttering whatever healing incantations his fevered brain could recall as he did so. Spells for colds, sneezes; spells for broken bones. Spells to heal potion burns. Spells for healing nicks and cuts.

Yes, spells for cuts. Say them again, and again, and again.

The spells were interspersed with Snape\'s gasping cries of her name, entreaties for her to waken, to open her eyes, to speak, to move, to tell him she would be all right. In only moments he had snatched her into his arms, dragging the bloody sheet with him, and was running for the fireplace in the kitchen.

There he stepped into the fireplace with her, intending to Floo to St. Mungo\'s, and realized he had no wand, and that the fireplace had been sealed against Floo traffic. \"F-f-fuck,\" he hissed. \"Accio wands!\" And moments later, both wands came whizzing from the bedroom. He crouched on the hearth long enough to remove the seals from the fireplace and grab a massive handful of Floo powder -- enough to take every Slytherin in his former House through the system -- and shouted, \"St. Mungo\'s! St. Mungo\'s!!\"

~*~

At the other end of the Floo, Snape staggered with his precious, bloody burden into a pristine lobby; tiled floors, white walls, a few green plants scattered near chairs. He emerged, still shouting the name of the hospital, and was promptly surrounded by a flock of medi-personnel in white robes.

\"She\'s slit her wrists,\" he gasped. \"Gashed them. A scalpel. I bound them, I think I...I think I stopped the bleeding, tell me she\'s still alive, tell me...\" His face sagged down into her curling, blood-streaked mane of hair. \"Tell me she will be all right.\" For she did not smell like Hermione; gone was that warm smell, that greenness, that hint of the black rose from the Forbidden Forest. She smelled old, and dry, and bloody. Here in the whiteness of St. Mungo\'s, Hermione was a freakish red fright, instead of dark, as she had been in his distorting wandlight. Snape felt his gorge rising and choked it back. So red, so much red, so much blood, she is so cold, and so still in my arms. Never was she still in my arms.

White arms were reaching, tenderly, to take her. Snape could not release her. \"I will -- she would not like you to touch her, she doesn\'t -- I will carry her,\" he stammered. \"Though she would like you, dressed in white this way, your white arms, so white --\" He cut himself off, realizing he was beginning to babble.

\"We\'ll take care of her, we must see to those arms, perhaps a transfusion...\" The murmurs were soothing. \"Give her to us, you can come along, if that will help.\" They were already moving him along; another white blur was bringing a bed on wheels to meet them. \"Lay her down here,\" said they. Snape, stupid in his grief, sat on the bed with her in his arms.

\"I cannot...I cannot,\" he gasped. Someone nearby uttered a spell and the entire group of them vanished, Portkeyed to another room, smaller, brighter, whiter, emptier.

\"He\'s in shock,\" said they. \"Look at his eyes.\"

\"You must let go,\" someone else was saying. \"Let us take her, we need to take her.\"

\"No,\" said Snape, one last time, before someone\'s wand tip touched the center of his forehead, and he stopped thinking, feeling, hearing, seeing.

~*~

What roused Snape not much later was the sensation of someone scrubbing at his hands, and a voice, speaking softly.

\"I think it\'s actually all her blood, and not his. I don\'t believe he\'s injured.\"

Snape was suddenly on his feet with a roar, groping for his wand, eyes wild, casting about himself for Hermione. \"Get your hands off me! Where is she? What have you done with her!\"

\"It\'s all right -- it\'s all right, she\'s not far! She\'s just behind that curtain.\" The small medi-wizard in front of Snape gestured frantically, overwhelmed by tall Snape and his wildness.

Snape pushed past the wizard and his partner and ripped back the indicated curtain. Hermione lay, still and pale, on the bed with wheels. Three medi-witches and wizards were chanting over her, their wands glowing. A clear flask of some cherry-red fluid hovered near, dripping glowing red drops onto her skin. Each droplet seemed to be quickly absorbed.

\"What are you doing to her?\" Snape demanded.

\"Quiet, please,\" begged the small wizard who had been scrubbing at Snape\'s hands. \"They\'re restoring her blood balance. It requires intense concentration.\"

Snape turned and clutched the wizard by his robe collar in one hand, his wand pointing at the wizard\'s temple. \"She\'s alive, you\'re telling me?\"

\"Yes, yes, of course she is!\" Panicked, the little man reached for his own wand. Snape\'s eyes calmed, and the wizard relaxed a bit. \"Here, sir -- why don\'t you sit down here, we should perhaps talk a bit.\" His partner summoned a quill and some parchment. \"Tell us your name, sir.\"

Snape grew wary. \"Why?\"

\"For our records, of course.\"

\"No.\"

\"But -- \"

\"You will heal my companion, then we will depart.\"

There was a stirring behind the curtain and one of the witches emerged. \"She will be going nowhere anytime soon.\"

Snape was on his feet again. The two in front of him scattered. His eyes narrowed at the witch. \"What do you mean? Of course she will. As soon as possible.\"

The witch folded her arms and stood her ground. \"I mean, there\'s more wrong with this girl than a simple blood balancing will cure.\" She glared at Snape. \"I remember you, you\'re Professor Snape. From Hogwarts. You made my life hell for seven years. Now, Professor...suppose you tell me what you know about this girl. Who is she, and how did she get into this terrible state?\"

Think fast, Snape. I don\'t remember this student.

\"She is my niece,\" he lied. \"She\'s not been well for quite some time. A nervous disorder, I believe.\"

The witch\'s eyebrows rose. \"You brought your naked niece to St. Mungo\'s.\"

Snape drew himself up. \"You may as well stop quizzing me. This girl\'s problems are very personal, and I will not have you agitating her in this manner.\"

\"I\'m not agitating her, I\'m agitating you, Professor. You need to tell me what\'s going on with her, or I will be forced to use Legilimency on her.\" The witch stepped closer, and Snape found himself weakening. He needed desperately to get help for Hermione, but to get help meant giving up at least part of her story, and more importantly, giving up their life together at Angharad\'s cottage.

\"In private,\" he said now.

\"Very well. Follow me, Professor.\" She took him across the hall to a small room, and closed the door. Snape warded and silenced the room. Her eyebrows rose once again.

\"I don\'t remember you,\" said Snape.

\"I was Amanda Quickstep,\" she said. \"Doctor Morrow, now.\"

Snape blinked. It seemed his former students were everywhere, but this one he didn\'t recall at all. \"No matter.\"

\"I recall a certain Daily Prophet scandal from a few months back, don\'t I, Professor?\" she said now, her arms crossed once again, but her wand at the ready in her competent hand. \"You, and a student -- an affair, and your sacking.\"

\"Really.\" A shame I didn\'t read it when Narcissa offered. It seems to have made a lasting impression on the wizarding world, the liaison between Hogwarts\' evil Potions Master and delicate Head Girl.

\"Yes, really. And then I recall something about a young woman, an excellent student, vanishing from Hogwarts School not long afterwards.\" She met Snape\'s gaze. \"Is it the same girl?\"

\"It is.\"

\"Shame on you, Professor Snape.\"

\"Yes, shame on me,\" he agreed, hissing, moving in close to menace the medi-witch, who earned even more of his respect by continuing to stand her ground. \"But mostly, shame on her parents for neglecting and abusing her. Here, Doctor Morrow, is what you will do. You will treat this girl and cure what ails her. She has been experiencing extreme stress for years, manifesting itself in a compulsion to scrape at the skin of her hands and arms until they are raw and bleeding. I will not tell you the details of the problems with her parents -- that is for you to ascertain, if she will allow it. I have made promises to this girl that I will not break. She is sixteen, and therefore you will not contact her parents without her permission. You will not contact Hogwarts without her permission. If she wishes to leave St. Mungo\'s, you will not restrain her. You will only proceed with such treatment as this girl approves, once she is awake, and in the meantime, only such care as I approve. She is well aware of her situation and will be able to make decisions regarding her own care. Those are her rights, and you will abide by them, or I will take her away from here.\"

\"I don\'t see how she will be rational enough to make these kinds of decisions, Professor,\" Amanda Morrow insisted. \"This young woman tried to commit suicide. I might not be able to hospitalize her against her will, but having taken a vow to do all that I can for my patients, I must warn you it is for her own good that she stay here where she can be properly treated and cared for.\"

\"You don\'t know this girl. I do. She has lived under this dark cloud for a very long time and is astonishingly bright.\" Snape tried to get his anger under control and change the subject. \"I do not believe she tried to kill herself. I believe she is trying to get control of her world, in any way she can. How long until she is conscious, do you think?\"

\"Several hours yet. Controlling her world, by slashing her wrists? That is far too simplistic a view. Perhaps she wasn\'t trying to kill herself, but perhaps she was. What makes you think you have correctly interpreted her motives? I told you before -- there is much more wrong with this girl than meets the eye. When the desperation of suicide seems the only option, it is no longer simply an attempt to \'control her world.\' It is a cry for help, a virtual scream for help.\"

Snape ignored the healer\'s comments, though they struck home, sharp and deeply. \"Then we will discuss this with her when she awakens. And in the meantime, I will be staying with her.\"

\"I think it best if you do not. How do I know that you are telling the truth?\"

\"If you wish me to swear on my wand, I will do so.\"

The witch looked him up and down. \"I do not like this at all, Professor. If the Prophet article was anywhere close to the truth, you are a danger to this young woman.\"

Snape glared, and brought up his wand. \"Do not make me demonstrate my seriousness,\" he said, softly. \"If the Prophet article discussed me much at all, then you know I will not scruple to use my powers to get what I want. And what I want, just now, is what\'s best for that young woman. Which is for me to stay near her, and for you to tell no one she is a patient here.\"

\"I am bound by my professional oath to --\"

\"And I am bound by nothing, except my love for the girl in the other room,\" Snape interrupted. \"Do you understand me? I have cast Unforgivables before, Doctor. An Imperio is nothing, if it will help that girl.\"

There was a long, considering silence. She looked at his wand, and at his dark, focused eyes, and the blood all over his hands, his face, his clothing. She blinked slowly, taking a deep breath. \"Does she at least have a name?\"

\"You may call her Jane, if you must. She may tell you her name later, but it will be her choice to do so or not.\"

\"I could get it easily from the articles.\"

Snape flicked his wand irritably, and was rewarded when the medi-witch finally flinched. \"I am certain you could. But I would prefer you to respect your patient\'s privacy.\"

There was another long silence. And then, finally, capitulation. \"It is against my better judgment,\" Dr Morrow said. \"But for now, I will agree to your conditions. Until she awakens, and then we will have to see about this situation.\"

\"Thank you,\" said Snape, stiffly.

She looked him up and down again. \"Let\'s get you cleaned up. You\'re covered in blood. You don\'t want her seeing that when she wakes up.\"

~*~

After another hour of steady attention to Hermione, the medi-personnel decided that she had been stabilized and simply needed sleep. Dr Morrow glared at Snape on her way out the door. \"You will call us the instant she wakes,\" she said.

Snape did not reply. He was already summoning a chair to Hermione\'s bedside, where he drew it close and took her pale, cool hand in his. The flask of red fluid continued to drip over the skin of her right shoulder, but it was slower to absorb now, which Snape assumed was a good sign. He closed his eyes and brought her hand to his lips. He kissed the back, turned it gently, and kissed the palm. \"Hermione, my love,\" he whispered. \"I\'m here.\"

After a while, he placed her hand back on the bed. He crossed his arms on the mattress and propped his chin on his hands, studying her. The color was gradually returning to her lips. Her breathing seemed less labored, more like the breathing of sleep.

A long time later, without realizing it, Snape slept, his legs sprawled beneath Hermione\'s bed, his forehead pillowed on his folded arms. And as he slept, worn by care and regret, he did not feel Hermione\'s hand come to rest on his head, nor her fingers curling into his hair.

~*~

\"Snape.\"

The rasping voice was strange, but someone was calling him. He struggled to waken.

\"Snape.\"

\"I\'m here, I\'m here,\" he mumbled, lifting his head. His legs ached; his knees had locked, hyper extended for hours. A hand was tangled in his hair, and immediately in front of his face was an arm, bandaged in white gauze.

\"Snape.\"

He got to his feet urgently, grasping Hermione\'s hand in his and glancing around the room in alarm. They were alone, at least for the moment. \"Hermione,\" he said, pressing one hand to her face. \"Right here. I\'m with you.\"

Her head tossed on the pillow. \"Summoned...\" she moaned.

\"Yes, but I\'m back. Open your eyes, Hermione.\"

He watched the thick gold-tipped lashes rise, hesitate, and sink back down. She tossed her head again. Snape noticed that the flask of red liquid had ceased to drip, and was hovering half-full at the head of the bed. Has her blood been balanced again? He kissed her hand and brushed back the hair from her brow. \"Open your eyes,\" he said again.

Hermione drew a deep breath and the lashes flickered up, down, then up again, and her brown eyes searched slowly for him. \"Snape.\"

\"Yes.\"

She swallowed hard. \"My throat hurts,\" she mumbled.

\"You\'re thirsty,\" he said. \"Let me find you some water.\" He released her and turned away to the table next to the bed, and as he moved away and she reached for him, she saw the heavy bandages on her arms.

Hermione gave a terrible howl of despair. Snape dropped the pitcher and glass, startled, and quickly turned back to be within reach. \"It didn\'t work,\" she shrieked. Her hands clutched him, one snarling in his hair, the other clawing at his shoulder.

Snape took hold of her shoulders and pressed her back into the pillows, shoving his angry face into hers. \"Calm yourself, you foolish girl! Be silent! How dare you try something so stupid!\"

Hermione burst into tears and Snape edged his hip onto the bed to pull her into his arms. \"Merlin -- Merlin, Hermione. Why did you do it?\"

She threw her arms around him and sobbed into his neck. Snape could hear her trying to speak, but could not make out the words. He contented himself with rather harsh pats to her back. He was not good at comforting distraught women, he thought to himself. Finally, he began to speak, himself, in an attempt to quiet her.

\"I got home from the summoning, and found you in our bed. You and your fucking blade, and damned near every drop of blood in your body, Hermione.\" His hand moved into her hair, and he laughed roughly. \"I\'d been hoping for another fight, and make-up sex. And instead all I find is you, half dead, covered in blood, and your familiar howling under the bed, and that damned Augurey shrieking from the rooftop. Hermione, give me something to help me understand this.\"

Hermione began to quiet, snuffling wetly into his neck. He thought she might be listening, so he continued. \"I bound up your wrists and arms -- Merlin, the blood -- it was everywhere. Then I Floo\'ed us here, to St. Mungo\'s. They\'ve been balancing your blood since midnight.\"

\"Crookshanks --\" she mumbled.

\"I left him at home -- did you think I cared about a howling animal when your lifeblood was soaking into the mattress?\"

\"He must be terrified.\" Her head came up and she looked at him, wet-eyed, nose dripping. Snape mopped at her nose with the sleeve of his robe.

\"He will get over it,\" said Snape harshly. \"I, however, will not.\" He closed his eyes a moment. \"I will see that forever in my nightmares, Hermione.\" He brushed his palms over her cheeks. \"Tell me why?\"

\"I couldn\'t stand it any longer,\" she said, simply, and shrugged. \"It...it seemed like the only thing to do.\" Her eyes took on a far-away look. \"It was beautiful...thick, and slow, and red, and --\" Snape shook her, hard. Her head rocked back.

\"How dare you try to kill the only thing I love in this world, you little bitch.\" His voice broke on the last words.

He clenched his jaw and was horrified to see the world begin to swim at its edges. Tears. Stop, you will frighten her. Good, let her be frightened. He put her away from him and rose from the bed, turning his back. \"I have not told them your name here at St. Mungo\'s, but they have already recognized me. They know you are the girl over whom I was sacked. It will not be long before they know who you are, as well -- but I have extracted a promise from your doctor, Dr Morrow, that she will not try to contact your parents, or Hogwarts, without your permission, and she will not try to stop you leaving here if that is what you want.\"

Behind him, Hermione was sobbing afresh. \"I\'m sorry, Snape, I\'m so sorry, please, please...\" He heard her trying to scramble out of bed, and the sound was his undoing. He turned back to her and caught her up into his arms before her feet touched the floor. He sank onto the hard chair with her across his lap and buried his face in her hair.

\"I...I cannot do this any longer,\" he whispered. \"Hermione, I cannot fix you. Whatever it is I do for you, however it is that being with me helps you, it\'s only skin deep.\"

\"Stop,\" she whispered, anguished. He knew that she understood what was coming.

\"You must get well,\" he said now. \"And you must live your own life. I can do neither of these things for you.\"

\"Don\'t you send me away, you bastard!\" she wailed.

\"I\'m not sending you away,\" he said. \"You are staying here, and I am going back to the cottage. You need what they can give you here, not what poor things I have to offer you, and only temporary things at that.\"

She tried to take his face between her hands, but Snape knew that if he once looked into those drowning, wet brown eyes, he would be lost: he would give in yet again, and this vicious cycle would start all over. Peace and joy, for a while, followed by anxiety, and then depression, and then she would hurt herself again. All the while shredding the chambers of his heart to bits.

\"I love what you offer me,\" she sobbed now. \"You love me.\"

\"Merlin, yes.\"

\"I want to be with you, Snape. I need to be with you.\"

\"You need -- you need to get well, Hermione. I\'ve done all I can do, I know nothing else except to hold you, make love to you, protect you, teach you my druid ways, the things that keep me from flying apart. But you need something that I can\'t give you; I don\'t even know what it is. But here -- here, they will know, I think.\" He fought the fierce urge to kiss her soft neck.

\"No,\" she whispered, stiffening in his arms.

\"Yes,\" he replied. Now he was able to look at her, and lifted his head. The hardest things had been said. \"You must first get well. And then you must see the world. And you must pass your NEWTs, and you must love other men, try new things --\" He broke off when her fingers pressed hard against his lips.

\"I don\'t want other men,\" she told him now.

\"But you will,\" he said softly. \"You must. You\'re sixteen. I\'m forty two. Our time -- our time is not now.\"

\"Then when?\" she wailed again. \"When can a time be, for such as we are?\"

\"Get well first,\" he said. \"Then we may talk about \'when,\' perhaps.\"

\"Where will you go? What will you do? Where can I find you?\"

\"First I will go back to the cottage. Your damned cat must be attended to until you can send for him.\"

Her mouth squared again and her eyes filled with tears. \"You\'ll care for him, won\'t you? Pet him, feed him?\"

\"Yes, you stupid girl. I\'ll tend your damned cat.\" He wiped roughly at the tears spilling down her cheeks. \"When you are well, send for him.\" He kissed her mouth and felt it soften under his instantly. \"Ah...I will miss this. Kissing you. Having you near.\"

\"Then don\'t send me away,\" she said again.

\"You know I must. Admit it.\"

She was mutinously silent until he shook her. \"I will not tell you what you think you want to hear, Snape. Not when it isn\'t true, not for me. I love you, and that will not change.\"

\"You\'re sixteen, Hermione. You have changed every single day we\'ve been together.\" Snape sighed. \"I must also go to Hogwarts. I...need to make Minerva understand what I have done, and talk to her about you, if you\'ll permit that. And I must talk to Potter. And... Weasley...and Malfoy, I think. Will you let me do that?\"

\"If -- if you think you must, I won\'t stop you.\"

\"I must,\" he told her. He looked into her eyes for a long time and saw there only sadness, and love. \"Now...let me call your doctors. They wanted to know when you woke up. Then, after a while, I will go home, and pack some things for you.\"

\"I want you to send me my druid things,\" she said. \"Including the sickle.\"

He shook his head. \"Hermione...\"

\"Damn it, Snape, I\'ve had that sickle for months, I could have cut myself with it at any time, but I didn\'t, don\'t you see? And if I return to Hogwarts, I must have it for the Circle.\" She stroked his face. \"You keep Angharad\'s book for me, until I return.\" She pressed a kiss to his lips, then looked at him sternly. \"Promise. I\'ll be back when I\'m well. Promise me you\'ll keep my book for me, my mentor.\"

\"I promise, my apprentice.\"