Above All Things

Above All Things
Chapter Four
by Nom de Plume



A sharp rapping at the window set high up in the wall of his lab stilled Snape’s ink-stained hand above his parchment. He looked up, saw the owl tapping irately against the glass, and dropped his Eagle quill on the desk.

The barn owl fluttered through the window opened for him and dropped the package he carried in his beak gratefully upon a heavy wooden table. Snape conjured a dish of water for the animal, it was summer and the package was rather heavy for a lone owl after all, and left the bird to happily lap up the water before flying back off into the sweltering heat.

It was a stack of medical records sent from Healer Wellen. He quickly read through his missive and began flipping through Hermione’s chart, reading the notes the Healers had made carefully, before digging through his own parchments and adding notes as he went.

Three hours later he stared, frowning, down at his hastily scribbled annotations. He needed more information if he was to proceed. Without knowing some of the more specific properties of her symptoms, and without a fresh blood sample for testing, it was pointless to continue. Given the properties he was aware of, he was fairly confident he’d narrowed down her suspected poison to one of five potential concoctions. Two of which were very concerning and most assuredly wouldn’t have been recognized by any Healer he knew.

He paced back and forth as he tried to decide his next course of action. He could simply request that Healer Wellen obtain a fresh sample of Hermione’s blood, cast a Stasis Charm on it and send it to him directly, but that always carried the risk of contamination and could lessen the exactitude of the toxin’s reactions during testing.

As he wished to remain anonymous about his contributions he couldn’t very well go to her requesting the information from her. Although, the more he thought about it the less likely it seemed that would be the case. He could give the Healer a list of questions to ask her but there were so many variables….he groaned and rubbed his lightly callused hands over his face. A challenge indeed, he smirked satisfyingly.

He thought back to their conversation from earlier that day. Minerva’s observations had been correct. She had looked a bit pale, and Snape had noticed how her feet shuffled tiredly as she walked. She was clearly stressed which could make a person uncharacteristically fatigued. No doubt a combination of that and depression would exacerbate the problem. Snape paused, the Healer’s words echoing through his thoughts. “…if she has no fight left in her she will succumb much more quickly.”

Severus drummed his fingers rhythmically against the worn, wooden surface of his work table. Miss Granger’s attitude had bothered him. The idea of her gearing up for a trip such as the one she’d mentioned didn’t seem likely. She seemed far too unenthusiastic, too…defeated. Her condition most certainly would decline rapidly if she was already in such a state. So her story about going on an “extended leave of absence” was disconcerting to say the least. Surely the girl wasn’t planning anything drastic.

He rolled his eyes. This is a Gryffindor we’re talking about, he mentally groused.

He thought back on her appearance from earlier that afternoon. Her demeanour had been uncomfortably familiar to Severus. She’d had a look about her that he recognized from the days of his own less than pleasant past. She looked haunted; beaten. Perhaps she felt her condition was too far gone?

He twirled his Eagle quill idly about his long fingers and wondered how frequently she was afflicted. During the course of their little chat she’d suffered some kind of ‘episode’ or convulsion not once, but twice. He’d to know their range of severity as well. Perhaps there was something he could concoct to help lessen the intensity in the mean time.

Glancing back down at his parchments, he dropped the quill and sighed. First he needed more information. And the best way to procure that information was from the source. He growled in frustration and checked the clock on mantle across the room; it was six p.m. Perhaps he could meet with her now and then be back in time to start a basic relaxant this evening to test for tomorrow. So much for anonymity.

Of course, he didn’t know where she lived. He sighed once more in frustration and gathered up some blank parchment and his notes before shrinking them. He’d need to ask bloody Minerva where Miss Granger lived.

“Won’t that be an interesting discussion,” he grumbled and stalked to the fireplace.

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She winced against the sound of uproarious laughter beside her and braced her arms against the bar. The drunken wizard to her left had leaned back in his gaiety and was now threatening to knock Hermione off her own barstool.

“’Ere, ease up, Donneghy,” the barman admonished. He leaned over the bar and pushed the inebriated wizard now leaning on Hermione off her, snapping his towel at him for good measure.

Hermione peered up at the barman blearily and smiled in gratitude. He nodded before turning his attention back to the patrons waiting to order at the counter.

She’d gone back to the place where she’d spent her first moments after leaving St. Mungo’s the day she’d been told what had been ailing her.

“Full circle,” she slurred daintily. She knocked back the rest of her whiskey — really it was awful stuff — and slid it forward, indicating she was ready for her sixth refill.

The bartender eyed her anxiously. “P’raps yeh’ve had enough, missy.”

Hermione bristled at his implication. “”Scuse me, but I think I’ll know when ‘v had enough.” She straightened up on her stool, her spine primly rigid. “And I have not reached my level.” She nodded once for emphasis, and tapped the rim of her glass expectantly.

The bartender shrugged his shoulders and splashed a healthy amount of the amber liquid into a fresh glass.

“Alright, but tha’s the last one o’ the night.” He looked down at her pointedly and turned away.

Hermione smirked. “Verry well.”

She sipped at this last glass slowly and glanced around the bar. This would be the last time she set foot in this establisment. She’d spent the past two miserable days discreetly saying her goodbyes to everyone she cared about. She’d fed them a story about going off on some elaborate trip, on sabbatical, to cover for her absence, but it was a lie. After tonight she was officially closing off. At least for a while. She would throw herself into research, working on a cure and/or preparing for death and could not afford to be bothered or hindered.

She knew it would be nice to have the support from all who cared for her, but she didn’t know if she could handle their reactions. It would be all the looks they gave her. The whispers heard when they thought she wouldn’t be paying attention. More tabloid gossip and sob stories and unwanted interest. She couldn’t stand that. She’s Hermione Granger. She couldn’t bare the thought of people looking at her as if she had failed at something. And this could be the ultimate failure. Especially if she couldn’t develop a cure in time.

And if or when it appeared that the end really was nigh, she would tell them then; but not a moment before. Besides, the time spent “visiting” with people could be used to work, not wallow. She didn’t take pity well. Besides, sympathy so far from those who supposedly cared, should care the most, had been severely lacking.

That bastard, she thought again for the hundredth time.

Her Healer said she could potentially have “a few” months left but unfortunately at the rate the convulsions had been striking the past few days she wasn’t entirely sure she would last that long without some kind of breakthrough with her treatment plan.

No, she could no longer afford to sit back and let the supposed professionals handle this alone now. It was time to take matters back into her own hands. And when Hermione Granger sets a goal for herself she bloody well follows through with it.

So she would close off, yes; but she would fight until the very end.

As if on cue, a tremor shuddered through Hermione and she tensed against it, gripping the edge of the counter before her. She breathed through it, knowing it was just a taste of something worse to come if previous experience were any sort of guide.

She grimaced now against the slow burn of the liquid fire in her throat. “I will also never drink this again,” she croaked and leaned her chin in her hand as the tremor passed. Although to be fair, taste aside, she could technically understand its allure; once the tremor had subsided she did feel quite relaxed. And the dizzy, floaty feeling in her head wasn’t altogether unpleasant either.

She let her mind wander as the alcohol finally took complete control of her inhibitions and thought back on the day’s events. She’d stopped by Harry and Ginny’s — nope too painful, something else.

Ah, tea with Minerva. That lovely witch. She would miss her company. That and the way she and Albus playfully bickered back and forth.

And then there was her odd interaction with Snape. She grinned lazily. Now, there was something to mull over. Once she’d gotten over her initial surprise at finding him standing about (had she ever seen Snape simply stand about?) and then him walking her to the gate, she’d been a bit nervous by his mere presence if she were entirely honest with herself.

There was just something about that man that fascinated her now. Of course she’d respected him at Hogwarts, and at times only just. When the truth of exactly what his role had been after the war she’d breathed an immense sigh of relief. She, unlike Harry and Ron at first, simply could not believe that he’d betrayed them.

She finished off the final drops of whiskey and sadly glanced at the empty glass. Her gaze slid from the glass to the bar then to her seat and she suddenly noticed the significance of where she was sitting. If she wasn’t quite mistaken, it may very well have been the seat Snape’s…plaything had been sitting when she’d seen them here. She grinned and hazily spun around on her swivel-topped stool.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that it were she that had been sitting on this barstool when his hands had run up the witch’s arms. His rich, deep voice caressing her senses while he whispered in her ear. She shivered, and then giggled at her physical response.

He’d looked much more casual today than she could ever have remembered him looking before. She dimly wondered if New Snape wore the same confining robes to teach in as he used to. Pity if he did.

Her whiskey-soaked imagination continued to play out her fantasy in her surprised mind’s eye and she leaned against the bar. Who knew six shots of whiskey was so powerful?

She inhaled dreamily and looked at the wizard hunched over his glass where Snape had sat previously. If she squinted just so, it kind of looked like it could be him.

You know, he’s got the right idea, she thought to herself as another image of Professor Snape floated to the front of her mind.

Maybe she’d been going about everything the wrong way. She’d always wanted commitment, someone to come home to. Someone to share her thoughts with; to read a book with and not think it was a waste of time. Someone to marry her and love her and promise to always be with her. Perhaps that was just too much to ask. Minerva did say fairy tales don’t ever happen anymore after all.

Professor Snape may just have it right. She pouted. He obviously didn’t go around looking for commitment and he seemed perfectly fine with it. No, all he wanted seemed to be companionship for one night at a time, if the string of different witches she’d seen him with had anything to say about the matter.

Which, if you think about it, her drunken mind reasoned, is far, far easier to handle than a lifetime of devotion. And how easily he appeared to achieve that goal! One evening filled with interesting conversation over dinner perhaps, followed by a quick, satisfying shag and no regrets in the morning. Well, perhaps that giggling redhead wouldn’t have provided interesting dinner conversation, but no doubt her bedroom skills more than made up for it.

And I bet he’s not too shabby in that department either, she grinned cheekily, swaying a bit on her barstool.

Perhaps she should try taking that route. The long term thing may not be possible now at any rate. Didn’t she deserve to enjoy herself like Snape was? He had suffered long and hard and was now clearly reaping the rewards wherever he could find them. She straightened up in her seat. Yes. She deserved to find a little happiness too, no matter how brief.

She glanced around the bar. Pushing her guilty conscience aside, she looked around for any potential, er, bedfellows. Company, rather. She was unattached now. If Evan could shag whomever he wanted, and if Snape could seduce and enjoy whomever he wanted, then by Merlin, so could she!

She scanned the room for him. The man she would proposition tonight.

After five uncomfortable minutes of careful scrutiny she decided her options were greatly limited at Salamander’s. If only Snape were here, she sighed. She shook her head. Good Lord, she really was drunk.

But he was so different now….

“Mmm,” she hummed sleepily, “I wish Snape would’ve taken me home instead that night,” she mumbled wistfully.

“David.”

Hermione blinked and sat up. She looked confusedly to the wizard she’d previously pretended was Snape beside her.

“’M sorry?” she slurred.

“My name’s David, not Severus.” The half-drunk wizard looked Hermione’s intoxicated form up and down hungrily. “But I’ll still take you home if you like,” he grinned toothily. When he blinked, both of his eyes weren’t in tandem.

Hermione stared at him cautiously for a moment before slowly sliding off her stool and then carefully, weaving unsteadily, exited the bar.

“No more booze,” she whispered, deeply inhaling the muggy night air. She glanced up at the stars then to the seedy little pub. “Goodbye, pub,” she bowed to the front door and spun around to face the empty street.

She closed her eyes tightly and focused her attention on the remaining unsaturated brain cells she had left to attempt Disapparation home; or as close to home as she could get.

She inhaled, and whirled on the spot, thinking, I bedder not get splinched, and disappeared with a tiny pop.

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Severus Snape glanced back down at his pocket watch. It was seven thirty. Where in Merlin’s name could she be on a Sunday night?

He leaned his back against her doorway. He’d been standing out in her hall for a little over an hour now and was feeling increasingly agitated and foolish.

After a few minutes a man, a Muggle, stepped into the hallway from the stairwell a few doors down. He was in the process of inserting his key into the lock of his front door when he caught site of the strange man in all black standing outside the new neighbour’s door.

The men locked eyes.

“’Evening,” the Muggle said awkwardly.

Severus glared at him.

The Muggle, against his better instincts, wondered whether this man had been locked out of the flat and needed assistance.

“Are you new here?”

Severus continued to glare; only now he narrowed his eyes threateningly. When the man didn’t respond he replied, “In a manner of speaking.”

The Muggle nodded his head. “Well, if you’ve locked yourself out of the flat, Gina’s downstairs. I just ran into her on the way up.” Gina was of course the landlady.

Severus furrowed his brow in consternation, wondering how best to respond. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” Now mind your own bloody business!

The Muggle stood outside his doorway, now a little suspicious, and Severus had decided that perhaps he should come back tomorrow when a shriek startled both of them out of their staring match.

“Pr’fessor?”

Severus quickly jerked his gaze back to the stairwell and then rolled his eyes at the sight. The Muggle, recognizing the young woman, relaxed a bit and turned to her.

“Do you know this man?” he asked.

Hermione, confused at the entire situation, dragged her gaze from her glaring former Potions Master to her friendly Muggle neighbour. She’d intended to Apparate directly into her flat but, given her level of intoxication, had been lucky enough to have made it to the alley behind her building. Good thing too or she might have missed this little stand off.

“Yes, thank you,” she said. She hoped she didn’t sound as drunk to them as she did to herself. “Professor,” she carefully enunciated, “whadda lovely surprise.” She stepped off the top step, and with a bracing hand against the wall, walked as elegantly as she could down the hallway to where the annoyed Slytherin stood at her front door.

She looked back to her neighbour, who had decided the man in black was no longer a potential burglar, and was just closing his door behind him.

Severus dropped his glare now that they were alone in the hall and took in his former student’s appearance with a mixture of irritation and amusement. Her curly hair was slightly dishevelled, her cheeks were pink and he could smell the heavy scent of whiskey wafting off of her.

“Miss Granger, it is,” he glanced again at this pocket watch, “seven forty on a Sunday night. Have you no pride at all?” he chastised and folded his arms across his chest.

Hermione straightened and tried to blink away the doubled image of Snape before her.

“What I do with my time is my own business, thank you.” She brushed an errant curl from her eyes and looked him over, head to toe. She blushed as she foggily recalled the rather naughty images she’d been conjuring of him in her mind not twenty minutes ago.

She leaned against the wall opposite him, willing the slightly nauseous feeling Disapparating while drunk brought on to go away. “Might I ask what you’re doing skulking about my doorstep?”

Snape cocked his head and took in her behaviour. She was completely smashed. “Miss Granger, are you inebriated?”

She grinned and blinked up at him and pointed at him childishly. “You’re avoiding my question.” She spoke slowly, deliberately. “And jus’ how did you get my address anyway?”

He cocked an eyebrow saying evasively, “Minerva can be very helpful when need be.”

Hermione frowned. Why would he ask Minerva for her address? She slowly let her gaze travel up and down Snape’s body again, not a little turned on by the sight of him casually leaning against her door in his summer clothes. But what on earth would possess him to come looking for her? She slowly grinned.

“Professor,” she said sweetly and pushed off the wall. She took a step towards him. “Is this about our conversation earlier today?”

Snape eyed her warily. “Which part?”

She adopted her sexiest, ‘come hither’ look, or what she hoped was close to one, and licked her lips. “The part where I asked for your assistance with a potion part.” She took another step, the alcohol coursing through her system acting like liquid courage. Perhaps she could put into practise her new idea of conquest tonight after all. “But I haven’t even contacted you yet.”

Severus straightened up off of Hermione’s door, suddenly unnerved at the change in her attitude. Granted, the slightly messy look of her hair, the flush of her cheeks and the husky tone her voice had taken on all in combination was more than a little alluring…but the girl was very obviously drunk.

“Miss Granger,” he began and was cut off.

“And besides,” she took another step towards him, leaving only a couple of feet between them in the hallway. “Isn’t it a bit late to offer your…assistance?” she emphasized the last word and looked up into his liquid black eyes.

Snape swallowed. And now the situation had changed dramatically. He looked down to his former student now swaying infinitesimally before him. Her pupils were dilated leaving only a thin outline of brown in the irises of her large eyes, her lips were parted slightly. Why, if he didn’t know any better he would think she was all but throwing herself at him.

He smirked. “Miss Granger, you’re drunk. I had hoped we could have a little discussion concerning a very sensitive subject, but in this state you are of no use to me.”

Hermione frowned, inching forward ever more as if unconsciously drawn to him. “Sensitive?” She inhaled as the scent of cedar floated teasingly around her olfactory senses. “I can still be of use,” she whispered and daringly leaned into his warm chest, her arms awkwardly dangling at her sides. Well, it wasn’t as if she were used to doing this sort of thing after all.

Severus’ eyes widened in surprise and he quickly leaned back into the doorway. The movement, however, was all for naught as Hermione had followed suit, and now instead of escaping her touch he was pinned between her and the door.

Hermione stared up at him both determined and nervous.

Severus drew a deep breath and tried not to focus on the feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest. She literally was throwing herself at him and he was now waging an internal battle. The sex-friendly part of his brain was cheering its encouragement while the responsible part of it was putting up a valiant effort at getting the sex-friendly part to shut the hell up. Perhaps if she weren’t intoxicated he might let his baser side give in but —

“I know this is probably not what you’re used to,” she breathed and held his gaze unsurely. Severus snorted. Actually, now that he was a war hero he was quite used to women hurling themselves at him for meaningless sex. “But, all I’m asking for is one night,” she smiled coyly.

His breath quickened as his heart rate sped up. Honestly, it was just an automatic physical response. His mind fought to rationalize the situation. True, he had originally sought her out for academic purposes only. He had said he would offer assistance to Miss Granger’s Healer and was scholastically interested in her case. And he would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling guilty about the fact that he now might have been the person responsible for the poison that was slowly, potentially, killing her. But she didn’t know that.

Severus studied her face intently. She looked uncertain. Again, he reasoned, if the situation were a bit different he would take her up on her offer. But she was drunk.

He inhaled as she pressed against him a little harder.

On the other hand she was very willing. And she made it very clear it was simply for one night. Who was he to deny her request when it was so deliciously set out before him? He’d spent the last couple of years making up for time lost while he’d been bound by two different masters. And now, Miss Granger was simply doing the same — making up for lost time while she could.

The voice of reason shrieked a little in response to his latest thoughts and he squirmed against her (which turned out to be more than a bit enjoyable). She is intoxicated, Severus. You cannot take advantage of her situation…no matter how enjoyable it might be. He sighed and gently gripped her shoulders. Hermione smiled.

With great effort he lightly separated them and stepped aside. Hermione frowned.

“Miss Granger, as tempting as the offer is you are in no fit state to make it,” he said softly.

Hermione stepped back, hurt evident in her face. She turned away just as another tremor threatened to dissolve any shred of dignity she had left.

Severus watched uncomfortably as her emotions played across her face. He started to think that maybe he should just leave and try speaking with her again tomorrow when she had full control of herself, but then he remembered what kind of emotional state she was in. And if he wasn’t mistaken she now looked suspiciously as she did this afternoon when she’d tried to hide her tremors.

He groaned internally, and with a stab of irritation at what he was about to do, stepped forward.

“Perhaps you would allow me to assist you inside, Miss Granger?”

Hermione tensely braced against the wall and looked up at him with an expression of surprise and indignation.

“Excuse me?” she bit out. “I thought you didn’t want my company?” She glared at him and drew her wand, unlocking her door. “And besides, I certainly do not need your assistance,” she gasped as the tremor spiked into searing pain and caught herself against the doorjamb.

“Miss Granger?” Severus stepped forward, and awkwardly placed a hand on her shoulder, unsure of how to help.

She winced and shrugged his hand off of her. “Go away,” she groaned and shuffled into her flat, kicking the door closed in Snape’s face. He rolled his eyes, and stepped in after her.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re clearly in need of some kind of assistance,” he sneered and watched her cautiously.

She was bent over; arms wrapped around her abdomen and spun around in surprise when he’d followed her inside after being dismissed.

“I don’t need your help,” she said through clenched teeth.

He arched an eyebrow. “I beg to differ.” He nodded pointedly to her prone position.

Hermione glared at him, breathing heavily through her nose. He met her glare, his eyes narrowed perhaps more than hers, and they stared each other down. Finally, Hermione sighed and sank slowly to the floor, defeated, drunk, sleepy and sore.

Severus watched as she lowered herself to the floor wearily.

“Why did you come here tonight?” she asked quietly. She closed her eyes, allowing the sleepy feeling fuzzing her senses to wash over her.

Severus debated answering the question honestly. Perhaps he could needle some responses out of her now while her guard was down. But as he watched her close her eyes and slowly hunch over with fatigue he took pity on her and resigned himself to the fact that he would get no such answers tonight.

He walked over to her and squatted down so that he was face to face with her. “No more talking tonight, Miss Granger. To bed, I think.” He gripped her arms and hauled a non-protesting Hermione to her feet.

She looked at him questioningly.

He shook his head. “Alone,” he snapped. He half supported her near-limp form and began pulling her out of her living room. He paused. “Where is your bedroom?” he asked, looking about him.

“’S over there,” Hermione mumbled, her hand waved in the general direction of the couch and she leaned into him, grateful that the pain had abated once again.

Guessing she meant the door behind the sofa, he drug her back across the front room and using one arm to support her increasingly heavy weight, and the other to open her bedroom door, he shuffled them inside.

“Lumos!” he snapped after tripping over a shoe in the darkness. Finally reaching her bed, he swung her around and dropped her unceremoniously onto the mattress.

Hermione giggled as she fell limply onto the plush surface. Snape rolled his eyes; an expression that seemed to increase in frequency when in Miss Granger’s presence.

“Now, sleep it off, Miss Granger,” he commanded, frowning down at her.

She sighed and scooted up the bed towards her pillows. “One last time,” she said, blearily looking up at him as he stood at her bedside. “Now or never.”

Severus quirked yet another suggestive eyebrow and shook his head. “Perhaps another time.”

Hermione closed her eyes and flopped over onto her side. “I wish I were you,” she yawned.

Severus blinked.

“So witty,” she said sleepily. “So detached. You’ve got the right idea,” she mumbled, letting sleep finally lull her away. “I should be like that; just leddit aaaaall go.”

Severus stared down at her, silent.

“Even though you rejected me,” she whispered, just barely audible.

Severus shifted his stance uncomfortably. “Perhaps if the circumstances were different,” he said quietly.

Hermione frowned, and as the last moments of consciousness faded away a tear slipped down her cheek. “That’s what Evan said.” And she slept.

Severus looked down at her, brows furrowed and watched as her facial muscles relaxed and the steady sound of her breathing filled the room.

There were many thoughts running through his frustrated mind and the one on the forefront was all but screaming at him, “Leave now.”

He extinguished the lights and settled himself into the chair in the corner of her bedroom. He would remember that night; and would always wonder why he hadn’t followed his advice.


~~~


A/N: Please do not judge Hermione too harshly. Grief and its resultant coping mechanisms are experienced and dealt with in the oddest of ways sometimes.

I had intended to have this out a couple of days ago, but it was my birthday and I decided to be selfish, forgive me. :P

I hope you’re still enjoying this! Thank you for your kind reviews as always.