2

"Hey Hermione, how is he doing today?" Harry's voice snapped her from the uncomfortable nap on an even more uncomfortable chair

"Hello, Harry. Same as yesterday," She sighed. "I don't know if I should be happy or worried."

"What did Poppy say?"

"Same as always. . . 'Only time will tell, girl, be patient.'" Exasperated with the lack of Poppy's enthusiasm, Hermione shrugged. "Ron still not talking to you either?"

"Ron can be a right bloody git sometimes, but he'll come around." He said. Annoyance clear in his tone. "Thank you for doing this for me."

Harry looked good but hauntingly tired. She watched him as he walked to the bed, shaking his head.

"I still don't like him, too much bad blood I guess. But, I can't deny what he's done." Harry sighed, squaring his shoulders. "Honestly, sometimes I wish, I could be more like you, Hermione."

She was silent, letting his words slink to the back of her mind.

Harry could tell she was miles away in mind and him trying to engage her in such a conversation was proving a mute point. "Well, I'll drop by tomorrow then. See ya, Hermione."

She sighed, she wished she could tell him the truth, but she couldn't. Obviously, Harry would be supportive, but he wouldn't understand, no one would.

Standing up from the chair she soaked the towel again and wiped his face. Maybe he would understand, just maybe. She traced her fingers over painfully defined, sharp cheekbones and then the hollows of his cheeks that were marred with rough stubble.

"I will have to tell Matron to use the spell again because I have no idea how to shave you in this state without harming you in the process." She mumbled to herself, knowing he wouldn't answer her. "Wake up, please wake up." Her voice was almost desperate because she feared and yearned for his awakening, yet he remained motionless. Even his breathing was shallow and weak; he was a literal living corpse.

~ S ~ S ~ S ~

Another painful memory:

He was eleven and standing in a room lit with soft candlelight. It was clearly bathed in a green hue that reached from the water through the windows. The looks of those around him are not too dissimilar from the ones he would get in his Muggle school. He pushed his chin up. But inside he was hurting. The reason; she was in the other house, not just any other house either. . .She was placed in Gryffindor.

A tall blond youth approached him. And the first thing he noticed was the prefect badge glimmering on the youth's robes and a beautiful young woman with long, curly black hair following him. "You are half-blood, aren't you?" Asked the blond.

The black-haired girl just made a face that he took as an insult. Her nose was turned up like he was emitting a smell that none other could sense.

"Yes." He replied, looking the blonde in the eyes. His mother taught him well, good eye contact.

"What is your mother's house?"

He had nothing much to hide. "Prince" He stated, quietly.

"Old line, noble one."

"He is just a mongrel Lucius." The girl sneered.

"Now, now, Bella. He has a good blood in him. Have you thought of the ways of our society?"

"As much as it was possible."

"You should know then to address him with sir." The girl mocked.

"Only, if he is in status above me, and I still don't know his name, nor yours for that matter."

"You little piece of dirt…"

"Bella, kindly remove yourself from us." Blonde's voice was cold and it cut like a knife. But it had the desired consequence because she promptly left. "I do apologize, she can be. . .overzealous at times." He said, monotonously. "The name is Lucius, Lucius Malfoy."

"Pleasure to meet you, Sir."

"No need for the formalities," He said, smiling. "Salazar knows, there are plenty of those who will insist on them, starting with Bella. Call me Lucius."

Lucius looked at him in silence for awhile. Scrutinising the man, looking him over. "Show me your wand."

He stretched the hand that gripped the wand but didn't loosen his grip.

"Do you know any spells?" Lucius questioned, eyebrow raised.

"A few," Snape replied, shrugging. Not wanting to brag or anything.

"Show me."

"On whom?" He knew only curses and jinxes for the time being.

"Use…Bella as a target." He offered. Motioning to the earlier female he had been introduced to.

"She is the Lady of the ancient house," Snape argued.

"She is…the house of Black. But she's no Lady. Now, do as I say, boy."

With a sigh, he pointed his wand at the woman and sent the curse in her direction. Magic surged through him, brushing against sadness and pain and anger. And then very suddenly, he felt, amplified and his cast spell hit her. The woman yelped out a painful cry.

Malfoy was nodding, smiling. "Impressive. Starting tomorrow you will have tutoring classes with me."

"It wasn't that bad." He rebelled.

"No, it was quite impressive. And you need extra knowledge, if for nothing else than to defend from her own curses."

The woman was marching towards them, wand pointed at him with a furious look in her eyes. Her face twisted in despise as she approached and jabbed his throat with the tip of the wand.

"Do you have a death wish?" She hissed as he looked her straight in the eyes, he was afraid, but he was doing his best to cover it.

"He only did what I told him to do," Lucius drawled calmly. Removing the woman's hand with the wand from his neck. "No retaliation."

"He jinxed me." She countered, voice rising like a screeching cat.

"On my order. He's under my protection, Bella. You should remember that. Now, it is your time to go home, you have all the information you need."

She glared at him and her eyes were warning him to watch his step and his back. She mutely nodded and walked away.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Nodded Lucius and strolled to other first-years sizing them up.

This was good. This was bad. He was protected and he'd just made a powerful enemy.

But his mind was conflicted. She was still in Gryffindor and he wanted to scream, to cry, to go back and ask the sorting hat to place him in the house he originally wanted to be placed in. But he didn't belong there, no, he didn't. He was too ambitious. He had to succeed here, to be the best. To rise from the gutter he came from and in doing so, to become someone if he wanted her to notice him. To choose him. He had no other way, she was the only one. . .

Darkness. Was this his resolution? Or would he live through every miserable moment of his life? Through every hurtful moment? The pain, it lessened but it remained present. It simmered in his bones. Do the dead have bones? Ah, yes, hell…his hell. So no rest then, just torment, eternal torment. This gentle touch, a feminine hand. No…never. Not for him. Never for him. Torment.

He was in his third year. Sitting on the library floor, in the section that wasn't often visited. Large, leather-bound books obscuring him from any accidental onlookers. He bit his lip, hissed and mashes his lip tight. It hurt, his lip was, he was the proud owner of a black eye and his back is bruised.

No, they didn't touch him, in fact, they didn't lay a finger on him, but in this school, it wasn't necessary. They used magic to make him lose balance on the top of the stairs and tumble down. The Potter boy and Sirius Black, it was always them.

Ever since the train in the first year, it was them. But physical pain wasn't what made him hide, nor was it what hurt him the most. He blinked to chase the tears away.

Lily. Why she can't understand? What does she want him to do? He had to be good with people in his house. They could help him. True, most of them can hardly stand him, but they were at least nice to him. Well, as long as Lucius Malfoy remained his protector, they would respect him. And furthermore, Lucius appreciated his talents. He patronised him for extra ingredients so he could practise his potion skills. Because, the thing was, Lucius was a talented potioneer, it was his true potential.

He also gave him books, ones on the darkest of arts.

His chest constricted painfully. Why couldn't she understand?

Lily. His Lily. She had barely talked to him as of late, but she did on occasion. And, typically, she didn't like his friends, so what was he supposed to do? She didn't share the same interests and didn't enjoy learning of the Dark Arts, but how could she hate something she didn't understand? How could she possibly defend from something she didn't perceive or foresee? Why couldn't she understand that he didn't have anything to offer?

He was always of the belief that he had to make a name for himself if he wanted to offer…her…something? How could she choose him if he was a no one? A lowly half-blood with no name.

If he were to rise through the ranks and make a name for himself, maybe then? If his mother were to recognise his achievements. . .They hadn't as of yet because he was at the top of his class. The best student in the school in regards to potions and Dark Arts. And yet no one liked him, really, no one except for her.

But then he knew that he would have to succeed, by any means necessary. He had to! And then, maybe, they wouldn't like him, but they would fear him and perhaps. . .respect him. It wouldn't matter that he was ugly. Nor would it matter that he was from a poor family or that he happened to be half-blood. He grit his teeth. It would not matter in the slightest.

Darkness shuffled. Who's there?

The pain still simmering, it never stops. The pain, only constant when he was alive. Only constant now, because he feels dead. Not even death wanted him the way it would suit him. Or maybe this was his punishment for not wanting to die. No this can't be true, he did want to die, but on his own terms…and more specifically, near her.

He'd failed, maybe this was his punishment for his failures?

Murmur in the darkness, a male tone and he recognises it. He knows that voice. Did he die too?

~ S ~ S ~ S ~

She gripped her wand tight. It's a new wand but she's not overly confident with it, not like she had been with her old wand before. But for fear of retribution, she couldn't afford let him see her fear. That…monster…was here, in this improvised room! Who'd let him in? She stood near the bed, one hand pointing the wand to the intruder's chest, the other gripping her charge tightly, afraid to let go, in case the intruder does something unspeakable. He wouldn't harm her professor because Hermione would not allow it!

"What are you doing here?" she hissed. Wand firm in her hand, no signs of her grip abating.

"How charming, little mud. . .muggleborn protecting a Death Eater." His voice came across as cold and mocking.

He looked haggard, only a shadow of the man he once was, but he still had that smug look on his face and the same level of contempt in his cold emotionless eyes.

"He is a hero! He's not a Death Eater!" She protested firmly.

"You have no idea who this man is or what he is capable of." He argued. "He would chew you up and spit you out in a blink of an eye. Now remove yourself! Step aside and let me see how my old friend is fairing."

"I won't let you harm him mal foi[1]"

"Harm him?" Malfoy glared at her and she suppressed the shiver and the fear.

Honestly, if looks could kill, Hermione would be dead and buried now. He looked utterly appalled with her insinuation but then, she didn't trust him at all. "Move aside before I remove you from the face of the Earth, permanently."

"Let him, Hermione." Her eyes darting at hearing Harry had appeared at the entrance to the hospital wing.

"Harry?"

"Let him," He repeated. "He won't harm Snape."

She flashed her eyes from Snape to Malfoy and then to Harry, indecisive and now conflicted.

"Do you want to drink tea with me and Poppy while Malfoy is here?"

"I won't let Malfoy stay alone with a professor while he's defenceless." She declared firmly and sat on the chair. Her wand still aiming at the intruder, tight in her grasp.

"Suit yourself. I'll be with Poppy." Harry sighed. He had tried, there was nothing more he could do, bar hexing her with a sleeping spell.

She watched as Malfoy walked slowly, heavily leaning on his walking stick. Malfoy hobbled slightly. Hermione thinks that it served him right for all the trouble he caused during these past years. He stood near the bed, too close for her comfort and then looks at her professor with an oddly sad expression on his face.

[1] Mal foi – Malfoy's name pronounced in French as an insult, Google tells me it is „bad faith"