You Know What They Say about Necessity...

A/N: Yes, another chapter! Thanks as always to all my great reviewers: your comments make my day and encourage me to write more! “A Little Help from My Friends” is, of course, by the Beatles.
Disclaimer: JKR owns it all and I’m poor because fanfic, like crime, doesn’t pay.


Chapter Three: I Get by with a Little Help from My… Friends?

“Then get to it, Miss Granger.”

She wheeled him into the bathroom, glancing around as she did. The toilet was a bit higher up than most; it was between the sink and a cabinet and had metal grip bars on either side, and two pieces of metal bolted into the flooreacheach side. The bathtub was long and wide and had what appeared to be a large metal stool sitting in it. The taps were on a wall on the side instead of being directly under the showerhead. Professor Dumbledore had done a good job, Hermione thought admiringly. It would certainly make helping him much easier…

Her eyes widened and she barely caught herself from gasping aloud as the reality of the situation abruptly made itself known to her.

Snape couldn’t stand. At all. And he needed to use the bathroom. And later he’d need to take a shower. And those things involved being at least partially unclothed. And, and…

“Miss Granger!”

Her eyes flew to his. “Sir?”

“If you are going to assist me, perhaps you could start by taking my chair to the necessary location?”

“Sorry, sir,” she stammered, willing the blush not to form on her cheeks. She wheeled him to the toilet and paused, uncertain of what to do next.

“Turn my chair around and lock in into place, girl. Do you not understand anything?” Snape scowled, gesturing at the small slides on the floor.

She didn’t speak, just followed his instructions, turning him so that his back was to the toilet and locking the wheels into place in the floor as he’d instructed.

“Did Professor Dumbledore tell you nothing of what to do?” Snape sighed sharply.

“Um, no, sir, I imagine he thought you would,” Hermione answered.

Another sigh. “Very well. This will actually be quite simple, Miss Granger. The back of the chair is retractable. Once I am in place I simply pull myself backwards. My legs will rest on the wheelchair without ever having weight put on them.”

“I see, sir.” And what about your clothes? She thought frantically.

Het hat have seen her distress, because he smirked slightly. “Professor Dumbledore has placed some very sophisticated spells upon my clothing, Miss Granger. They will remove themselves and replace themselves with certain external triggers relating to my environment.”

“Oh, good,” Hermione breathed. As his eyebrow flew up she hastily added: “I mean, that’s wonderful, sir. Professor Dumbledore is amazing.”

“I suppose that’s one way of putting it,” he said mildly. “Now, if you would be good enough to wait outside?”

“Yes, sir,” she said quickly, almost running out the door, which she closed behind her. She collapsed into the armchair in relief. She wouldn’t have to see him undressed.

She imagined that Dumbledore had also charmed washcloths to help bathe him, anwelswels to dry him. Not that she would have refused to help him if he’d needed it. But the idea of seeing her former potions teacher in any state of nudity was unsettling at best. He’d be all pale and wiry, probably. He didn’t look the type to be hairy, either. If he was going to pull himself with his arms, he had to have some good muscles. And he probably had nice legs from all the walking he had to do at Hogwarts...

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth in horror. Had she just thought about Snape’s body? Professor Snape, head of Slytherin Snape, cruel Potions Master Snape? The thought made her groan, and she was thankful her hand was still over her mouth to muffle the sound. She took her hand away and sank lower into the chair. Hadn’t she just tried very hard not to think about him without clothes? What in the world had come over her?

Idle speculation, she decided somewhat frantically. Harmless conjecture with no deeper meaning behind it whatsoever. She absolutely, positively, had no interest in what was under his robes, or anything else he wore. She was tired and frazzled and her brain was going off in odd directions. End of story.

She jumped when he called to her loudly from the bathroom: “I am ready, Miss Granger.”

She gathered her courage and went back in. He sat, wheelchair near the door, hands folded in his lap. She didn’t say a word, simply pushed him out and back into his bedroom. As she did she noticed how white his hands were, how he seemed to be all but crushing them together in an effort to hide his pain.

“Sir, please take something for your pain,” Hermione said softly.

“I told you I want no more muggle drugs!”

“Muggle medicine is not unsafe,” Hermione said. “It isn’t as efficient as magical medicine but you would feel better.”

“Since when have you ever cared about how I feel, Miss Granger?” Snape mocked.

She drew a deep breath. “I am a healer. I care about everyone’s pain.”

He snorted. “A healer. You could have been anything, and you chose to be a mediwitch.”

“It is a good profession!” Hermione retorted, struggling with her anger. How dare he imply that being a mediwitch was inferior!

“I am not saying otherwise. But you, Miss Granger, could have done whatever you wanted. Did you truly choto bto be a mediwitch because that’s what you wanted to do?”

She blinked. “What are you implying, professor?”

“Your—decision—had nothing to do with what happened to Potter in seventh year?”

Hermione clenched her hands to keep them tre trembling. “Even if it did, I don’t regret it. I will love being a licensed mediwitch. And it’s also none of your business, sir, what I do with my life.”

“Of course not,” he said, his voice soft and bitter. “It’s none of my concern that the only student who could have qualified to become a Potions Mistress in the last two decades of Hogwarts chooses to spend her life administering Pepper-Up potions.”

“Is that what you’re angry about? That I didn’t choose to accept your offer to apprentice?”

“I am angry, Miss Granger, at the idea that you decided to join the medical profession solely because of what happened to Potter.”

“It wasn’t just because of Harry! And maybe you haven’t heard, but I did specialize in healing potions instead of charms.” Hermione knew she was on the verge of full-blown fury and fought to control it. “And I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t think that’s the only reason you’re upset. I think you took it personally that I turned down your offer to apprentice. But it had nothing to do you with you.”

“It had everything to do with me!” he roared, black eyes blazing. “Do you know how many years I have taught at Hogwarts, Miss Granger? Nineteen years. And in that time, do you know how many students I have extended that offer to?”

She swallowed. His voice and eyes continued their relentless assault on her. “Only one, Miss Granger. Only one. Because you are the only one who was good enough.”

Hermione stared at him, shocked speechless. This was the first time she could remember him giving her a compliment.

“Not that it matters now,” he added. “You’ve made your choice. I hope for your sake it’s the right one.”

She managed a tiny grin. “As I will be helping in your recovery, professor, perhaps you should hope that for your sake as well.”

Was that a smile? No. Not possible. Snape did not smile.

“Since you have such strong concern for my well being, Miss Granger, I will acquiesce and take some medication.” He studied her. “I am curious about something… did you volunteer to stay here with me?”

She couldn’t resist a chuckle. “As in agree willingly? Yes, I did. And so did Harry.”

He rolled his eyes. “Doubtless Mister Potter agreed as a result of emotional blackmail on the headmaster’s part. Or he has suffered a severe blow to the head and does not remember who I am.”

She couldn’t help it. She tried so hard, but in the end Hermione had no choice but to laugh.

“Miss Granger?”

“I never knew… you could make a joke,” she giggled.

“Doubtless it is brought on by pain induced-insanity,” he said wryly.