Sanguinem Maledicta

4

Hermione sincerely hoped Snape didn't regret his decision of allowing her to assist him. He let her do a preliminary grading of first-years' essays but she had the energy to keep prodding him till he gave in and permitted her to grade the copies of higher classes too. She was a senior anyway, even older than her NEWT batch-mates.

She would sit at a spare desk, next to his own, and work on her homework or grading essays for him while he was brewing, or casting experimental spells on her injury, or rapidly perusing book after book or shuffling through scrolls of medical correspondence with various healers and potioneers across the world.

After two months of the poultice treatment without any further breakthrough, Hermione gradually developed nerve damage and an acute sensitivity to temperature. She realized it was beginning to prove to be a serious issue when one night, a nearby cauldron began to radiate heat and she started trembling, her body breaking into a cold sweat. She tried to move away from the worktop and over to the sofa, but when she was halfway across the room, her knees suddenly buckled and all the pieces of parchment she was carrying, slipped out of her hands and scattered on the floor.

Her hands kept shaking and her fingers felt weak and useless, as a result of which, she couldn't put the papers back together and pick them up. She tried to breathe calmly and keep trying, but every time she gathered them, she found her arms to be too weak to do even this menial task. A quiet gasp escaped her as she pushed herself harder, almost crumpling up the papers in her adamance, but her hands just wouldn't work.

It had been so hard to make Snape consent to have her grade his students' papers but if he found out that she was this careless with the job, he would never allow her near them again. She bit on her lip hard in frustration.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Pick up the damn papers- you're not helpless!

Anxiety burned in her lungs. If her hands lost their function, she would have to withdraw from school. Her vision started blurring as tears started filling up her eyes. They'd admit her into St. Mungo's and there was no escaping that place. Her chest contracted as she fought to breathe, trying not to have a breakdown and she attempted hopelessly to pick up the parchments again.

A hand closed over hers. "Leave them."

She was startled with Snape suddenly appearing seemingly out of thin air and coming to her aid. She didn't want to give up and tried to pull her hand free. "No, I can-"

"I said, leave them." He firmly pulled her fingers free from the papers that she was trying to grasp and held her hands tightly in one of his. His hands were warm and comforting. He stowed the papers away himself and held her by the elbows to pull her up to her feet and steer her over to the sofa.

"I can- I can do it..." she was still in tears and mumbling. Her throat felt too tight to breathe and she leaned forward, half-doubled over as she tried to respire. 

He braced her up with his shoulder and his wand was out a moment later, casting diagnostic spells on her and studying them before taking her wrist in his hand and feeling her pulse. Her whole body was trembling violently as though she were going into shock. He hesitated a second before shrugging out of his robes and draping them over her body instead.

Breathe.

She just needed to breathe. She wasn't on her way to an asylum, where she would lie at the mercy of attendants to even wipe her ass and spoon-fed tasteless goop till she died. She squeezed her eyes closed when they started to burn and kept dragging short breaths in through her teeth until she gradually calmed down. Finally, she managed to inhale steadily and the scent of cologne and vervain that clung to Snape's robes filled her lungs.