Flame of Existence

--> See Introduction for warnings/disclaimer.

FLAME OF EXISTENCE
/ by Bella

Chapter Seven

It was a long night for both Hermione and Snape. Hermione, being on the receiving end of the negative energy in the room, was ready to break down and cry.

So, she had noticed he was missing at lunch. That didn’t really merit four hours of teasing and rude comments, did it? But then again, it was Severus Snape, the dingy bat of the dungeons.

The hard part of the detention wasn’t the actual task of grading papers (again), but of withstanding the constant blows of Snape’s personality, or lack thereof. At the moment, Hermione would rather be pushing tulips in a six feet deep hole in the graveyard than sitting across from the professor.

When the clock struck twelve, Hermione neatly stacked the graded papers and put them with the other finished papers. Hermione raised her eyebrows when Snape didn’t immediately dismiss her as he had every other time.

She cleared her throat. “Sir.”

Snape handed her another stack of papers. “Please grade these before you leave, Miss Granger.”

Hermione stared down at the papers in her hand and fought the urge to toss them back in his face. A wave of anger surged through her small frame, and her cheeks went red as her fingers clenched down on the layers of parchment.

Her shoulders shook and twitched sporadically as her temper flared up and down.

Snape always finds ways to piss me off, Hermione thought as she began marking the ungraded papers. He’s always out to get us, always having to prove that he has the nastiest attitude in the castle. It’s ridiculous. Does he not get that I need my sleep?

Snape stared at the pissed off Hermione amusingly. He hadn’t expected her temper to get the best of her. She didn’t even realize that she was feeding his amusement by responding to his request in such an uncontrolled way.

Finally, when the last paper was marked a half-hour later, Snape stood and yawned. “You may leave now, Miss Granger. Detention is the same time tomorrow night.”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione said through clenched teeth as she shoved her chair backward, standing.

Snape started for the hidden doorway leading to his study when he stopped in mid step. “Oh, and Miss Granger, I’ve floo’d some more of the Dreamless Sleep Draught to your rooms for you. Remember, one vial a night.”

His words didn’t register in her brain until Snape was three steps from his study. Hermione, elated at the thought of more sleep, ran over to him and hugged him tightly, surprising both of them. She pulled back almost as quickly as she had embraced him and blushed furiously.

“I– I’m sorry sir. Goodnight.” Practically running out of the room, Hermione tried hard to forget the image of Snape’s surprised faced. However, the image seemed to be burned permanently into her retinas, and when she was just about to her rooms, she stopped and started laughing.

She had to admit that it was kind of funny. She had hugged Snape. Who hugged Snape? Nobody... except for Hermione. Harry and Ron would shit if they knew. Actually, they would probably be scarred for life.

Figuring that was beside the whole point, Hermione continued on to her rooms and ran over to the fireplace the second she entered the room. There, sitting in the middle of the hearth, was a box filled with about 15 tubes of the draught. Hermione wiped the soot off and smiled to herself, thinking that the Professor really was a good wizard.

He keeps helping you, she told herself, picking up one of vials and fingering the stopper. But why?

Unable to find a reasonable answer within her, Hermione drank the liquid and headed off to bed. Outside, the crescent moon looked down on Hogwarts, and the stars twinkled much like Dumbledore’s eyes.

{--------------------------------------------}

The constant state of perplexity Snape seemed to be in lately, didn’t differ from its path when Hermione had hugged him. If anything, it had increased, leaving him even more confused.

Snape wasn’t one to confuse easily, either. But recently the chit had sent him a thank you note calling him ‘sweet’, smiled at him numerous times, and even admitted to “looking for him” during meals. On top of all of that, she had just hugged him a few mere minutes ago.

He knew and understood why she had hugged him. In fact, the many nights he had come back tattered and torn from a meeting with Voldemort he had wished to have someone there beside him besides Dumbledore and Poppy to help him through it (mentally).

The whole ordeal was kind of humorous to him. She had pulled back so quickly with a look of embarrassment on her face that she couldn’t wipe even when she was running out of the room.

“Looks like I still have it,” Snape said as he glanced at himself in the mirror. The it he was referring to was the ability to frighten (and embarrass, in this case) students.

Snape had to admit to himself, as he walked into the main part of his quarters, that he had felt a little weird when she hugged him. Truth be told, he had felt a sudden urge to hug the young witch back. Why, he couldn’t answer. But now that he had admitted it to himself, silently of course, he wanted nothing but to kick himself in the head for thinking so foolishly.

Snape undid the cuffs on his shirt and unbuttoned the first few top buttons. Undressing himself, and then redressing himself in silk pajama bottoms, Snape found it hard to calm his rapidly beating heart.

Something was wrong with him, he decided as he climbed into his large bed. The stupid chit had just hugged him. That was it, and here he was, trying to prevent himself from reaching down between his legs and pleasing himself. What the bloody hell was wrong with him, and when did he become some perverted old wizard?

Snape rubbed the tension that was hovering between his tired eyes and wished things in life were just a bit simpler to understand... especially Miss Granger and her sporadic moments of affection, or whatever her actions were called.

Sleep didn’t come easy for Snape, but as the minutes wore on, he found himself continuing to contemplate what was going on in his mind. Finally, his eyes shut for good that night, as the moon outside darkened by the passing of a cloud.

{--------------------------------------------}

A week ago, Hermione had found herself rocking in her sweat-covered sheets, telling herself that she had been raped the night before. Now, she was climbing out of bed refreshed and feeling ten times better, but not altogether that much better. So, she has gotten some sleep– that didn’t erase the fact that she had been forced open and taken by none other than Malfoy.

Shivering at the memory, Hermione walked into the adjoining bathroom and washed her face. She went slightly pale staring at herself in the mirror.

I’m so ugly, she thought to herself. As she continued to stare back at the person she had grown so distant from, she felt the contents of her stomach begin to make its way upward. Oh no.

Hugging the toilet seat as she had so many times before in the past week, Hermione unwillingly allowed the contents out. Tears were streaming down her face when she finished, and agonizingly slow, she stood and wiped her mouth on a towel that was hanging beside the shower.

It felt like her heart was in her throat, literally lodged there and reminding herself that she was still living, breathing, and... surviving.

She had been naive enough to allow herself to believe that she was getting better, just because of a few nights without nightmares tainting her dreams. However, in all reality, she was just falling deeper into that hole by pretending she wasn’t even there.

Her stomach churned and she knew that she didn’t want to go to the Great Hall for breakfast. She was disappointed in herself for her weakness and for not being able to deal with the fact that she had been raped. Raped. Defiled. And now, she was ugly. Uglier than before– before, she was just a bushy-haired know-it-all, and now she was this ugly being that was covered in... rape residue.

Grabbing her hair in handfuls, she yanked hard and cried out in pain and sorrow. She didn’t want to see her reflection. She didn’t want to feel herself. She didn’t want anybody else to experience her presence of... ugliness, dirtiness.

But what could she do? All thoughts aside, Hermione stumbled back over to her bed and sank underneath the covers. Her lips trembled from the agony that was exploding within her.

Eventually, her breathing evened a bit, and the tears stopped rolling from the ducts in her eyes. She stared up at the canopy above her bed and attempted to think of anything else. In her mind, Draco vanished and another Slytherin took his place.

It was Snape, with his long black hair, black eyes, black attire. Black in heart, but really the only light in her life. He was the only person who could understand her, she felt. Through a few hints, she knew that he knew. How, she didn’t know. But he was helping her, at least he was trying to help her.

And with her gratitude, she had hugged him, and then recoiled as if she had been burnt. But, she hadn’t been burnt. In fact, part of her expected him to wrap his arms around her back as she had done him. He had fallen short on his task, and quickly ran from the room in embarrassment.

She couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking after she left the classroom. Had he scolded her quietly, or had he broken something in anger? She doubted it.

Harry had shown concern for her right after the incident, when she was all hormonal after the incident. But that was it. He hadn’t come back to her and offered to help. Probably because she hadn’t told him what was going on with her, but still. She felt alone. Ron was no use, and now Harry was too. So alone– nobody knew she had cut herself that one time. It seemed like nobody cared.

Except Snape, and even she didn’t know what was up with that. He was acting so strangely. Kind of bipolar in its own rights, but not traditionally. He had yelled at her and embarrassed her, but then he had turned around... and helped her. It perplexed her why.

Sighing deeply, Hermione settled into the covers a little more and wondered if things would get clearer.

{--------------------------------------------}

From his spot at the Head Table, Snape could see that Hermione was not attending breakfast. He wasn’t overly worried, but he had wondered if he had made a mistake by sending a lot of the Drought to her at one time.

He couldn’t picture her being suicidal, but he wouldn’t put it past her, seeing as she had just been raped a week ago.

Saturday mornings in the Great Hall were always hectic. The students, happy with being able to relax all weekend (unless they didn’t get their homework finished during the week), were bouncy. Harry and Ron weren’t exempt from this, either.

Snape watched them closely, as a spy would. Neither looked concerned that Hermione wasn’t in attendance for breakfast. Pity, he thought. The witch doesn’t even have decent friends... But then again, neither do you... considering.

Snape tried to picture Hermione being remotely like him. Black clothes, hair... In his mind, she looked funny trying to brood and snarl like he did.

“Severus, may I please interrupt your reverie for a moment?” It was Professor Dumbledore, and he wore a small smile at the corner of his lips.

“If you must, Albus.” Irritated with the Headmaster, Snape took a hearty bite out of his piece of toast and glanced over at the older wizard.

“I’ve just noticed that Miss Granger isn’t in for breakfast this morning. I thought she was progressing nicely, Severus.”

“So I thought as well. However, with what she has been through, you can’t expect a week to do wonders, do you? Much less a few nights without nightmares? You are not a fool, Albus. I can only do but so much.” The last part was hissed in a whisper.

Albus nodded and smiled again. “Take her breakfast, my boy.”

“You cannot ask that of me, Headmaster.” Snape tossed the last bit of toast onto his plate and stood, angry. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked thus far–“

“And you have done a wonderful job. Now, I’m simply asking a favor for the young witch. She needs her food.”

“I’m sure she will eat when she is hungry, Sir.”

Dumbledore’s face hardened. “Severus.”

Snape let out an exasperated breath. “Fine.”

Snape walked quickly out of the Great Hall and slammed out of the back doors in such fury. That old man was up to something, he knew. Of what, he did not know. Snape stopped by the kitchens on his way up to the Head Girl’s rooms and picked up a variety of breakfast meats and fruits.

He didn’t know what she ate, nor did he care.

His course across the castle happened to be more of a stomp, and he reached the door to her rooms within a few minutes. He knocked twice and waited for her to answer the door.

{--------------------------------------------}

Hermione’s eyes opened at the sound of the knocking, and she stood quickly. She didn’t know who was there, but she did know that she didn’t want to entertain at that moment.

Putting on a robe, she walked from her bed quarters to where the entrance into the rooms was. Mumbling a revealing charm, Hermione was surprised to see Snape standing there with a covered platter.

She went to the door and opened it quietly. “Sir?”

“Miss Granger, you did not attend breakfast.” He pushed the platter towards her. “You need to eat.”

“Professor Snape? I, uh.. thank you.” She took it and opened the door a bit more. “Would you like to come in?”

Why had she just asked him that? She didn’t want company, but he had just gone out of his way and brought her breakfast, so she felt compelled to offer him a seat.

“No, Miss Granger, I would not. I have things to do,” he spat, turning on his heal.

“Oh,” she said, standing in the door way and watching him retreat down the hallway.

Once Snape was around the corner, he wondered why he had even noticed that she had been crying. He was only doing this for Dumbledore, he reminded himself once again. That’s it.

End of Chapter Seven / To Be Continued

A/N: There you go. Hope you enjoyed the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)

Also, thanks for the lovely reviews. Really. You guys really make my day when I see the number increasing, and the kind words you all always seem to leave. When I set out to write this story, I didn’t think so many people would enjoy reading it. So, thanks for the reviews. I’m truly, truly appreciative. :) Also, keep a lookout for the next chapter - should come mid-week if you’re lucky. :)

So, is this chapter worthy of your thoughts?