Deep Bruises of War (Finnished)

XIII Soft spots

Her finding some rest – she smirked – the best joke made ever.

Eventually, Minerva decided to surrender and went back to her rooms. Hermione, still not knowing what exactly the older witch was offering her, didn't ever care. She just stood up, suddenly felt like taking a shower. But then she shivered.

Supposedly, it was only the usual cold of the castle or maybe the sharp claws of the loneliness and darkness inside her started to cut deeper into her soul.

But even so, she stood still for a while, breathless, with her heart pounding hard in her chest. It could be anything. It could be THEM.

No. They won't get you, they won't catch you, they WON'T HAVE YOU ALIVE!

The shaking started somewhere inside her stomach with sickness and pain. Then it spread out on her whole body, without a reason and mercy.

She wanted to shout for help, to yell from the depths of her lungs.

But she couldn't: no breath was able to escape her suddenly tightened throat.

And, as the silence surrounding Hermione was becoming yet quieter and quieter, the corners of her mouth lifted a little in one simple, wry smile, her mind finally founding its peace.

***

That's how she looked when he came upon her a few hours later.

He didn't even mean to be there. A simple coincidence made him do it. He just remembered that in his wrath he had forgotten to give the girl her medications. So, bitterly, he decided to take a tour around the castle, hoping to find some peace in this wandering. And on his way back he stopped by her door.

Knock-knock.

Who's there?

Just your snarky bastard of a professor.

"Miss Granger?"

After a while he knocked again, this time using more force.

But there was still no answer.

Maybe she was wandering too. Maybe she was sitting in the library. Maybe. Or maybe she had just fallen asleep.

Nonetheless, he decided to open the door, not eager to just leave the bottle outside. That would be careless. Anyone could find it and assume whatever they want. Or take it. Yes. That was the reason why he had to give it to her in person. Or, at least, that was what he told himself before he reached for the doorknob.

Carefully, he stepped inside.

Dead silence and almost complete darkness surrounded him the moment he closed the door.

"Lumos" Snape murmured.

It was only when he was about to put the bottle on the cupboard and leave, that he noticed a shape on the floor, merely a tone darker than the rest of the room.

He recognised it in a blink of the eye. Hasn't he seen it too many times in his life?

A body.

A corpse.

Carrion for the crows.

Was she even alive?

Hesitantly, Severus came closer to check the pulls and breath.

She WAS breathing.

It seemed that she had gone through one of her panic attacks and collapsed. He wasn't naive enough to not conclude that it was, to some extent, also his fault.

A dark, sour grimace

He levitated her body onto the small couch and used a simple waking charm to rouse her.