The dungeons were always glowering and immersed in the half-light, no matter the current time of the day or season. No windows. No sunlight. The ubiquitous smoke from lots of torches hang against the walls.
The tunnels smelled of dump, mossy water, which was often dropped from the ceiling at the rainy days of spring and autumn. It was a grim , dark place, perfectly matching the gloomy character of the man who lived there for last two decades of his lonely life.
She wasn't even sure if she could manage another conversation with this nasty peace of a man. But Hermione was also too exhausted to show Poppy any sign of self-assertion. So she went on absently not knowing what else should she do in this simple situation. The long-gone Hermione would have definitely found a much better solution ‒ she was the intelligent and easy-going part of the Golden Trio. Now, what has left of her, was that twitchy and touchy creature slouching around like yet another ghost of this old castle. Somewhere, deep in her brain, she was already screaming, her emotions set on fire, but on the outside, she still seemed calm. She would do it. She had to.
Knock – knock.
There was no: Who's there?
The joke fell flat.
The joke heard only in her broken mind.
And again.
Knock – knock.
And yet another prolonged silence.
Fuck this man, fuck Poppy. Fuck everyone.
She was cold. She was exhausted beyond imagination. The only think she could feel now, was the severe headache building over her eyebrow.
Damn me.
She sat on the cold floor of the dungeon no longer knowing why she came down there, or where she was. The throbbing pain was getting stronger every second, her vision narrowed and her stomach...
Snape choose this exact moment to show up at the door and, to his unpleasant surprise, he found the young witch vomiting right at his boots.
He cursed, cleaned himself and the stone floor around them, then opened the door a little wider to let the girl into his chambers.
"Are you completely insane?" he asked her dangerously calm.
"My apologizes, Professor." she mumbled. "Let me say, that I am as surprised as you are."
Her head stopped aching, immediately after she brought up.
"It must have been migraine." she said in an apologetic voice.
"Oh yes, it definitely must." his voice sounded harsh, even in her head, even though it wasn't the true one, only a spell.
Maybe the charm only made it sound worse?
"What are you thinking you are doing, Miss Granger?" he asked her finally.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Oh you should, you should indeed beg for your reprieve."
Than he smirked.
"What are you doing here, Miss Granger?" he asked, this time nearly politely.
"I was about to ask if you head any Pepperub Potion for... Poppy, because, as it happens... she went out of her supplies."
He snarled nasty: a weird, miss-happened sound escaping his savaged throat.
"As it happens" he aped her, "I have just finished a full cauldron of this precious medicament, so I can spare a few vials. Take a sit, Miss Granger and wait if it suits you. And, as I clearly see that it does, please make me a happy man and do not treat my furniture as you treated my shoes before."
She almost laughed. But she managed not to.
She followed him with her eyes as he exited to the room next door.
The lab, she thought.
He was a weird, tough man. She always knew it. Everyone new it. But what was inside of the messed up human he pretended to be?
Or maybe he didn't pretend it at all... Maybe he was just as they've always seen him: a sociopathic, stern, never merciful monster. No. It couldn't be that simple...
He was already back, standing in front of her, grimacing as a predator cornering his prey.
Merlin damn you, Snape.
"Thanks, Professor" she simply said, when he handled her a few bottles.
"Your welcome Miss Granger, as long as it saves my belongings from being covered with barf afresh, I can provide you mostly anything."
He was joking, wasn't he?
"I'll go and give it to Pomfrey" she promised.
He shrugged.
"As you wish. The woman is going to pay me a visit tomorrow morning anyway, pleading for even more supplies."
Hermione smiled, deciding to stay silent and not comment his dry remark on Pomona Pomfrey. He knew as well as she did, that the older woman, on the contrary to him, was not skilled enough to brew it herself. But Hermione didn't want to start another fight between them. At least not now, not when she was so exhausted. He was actually peering at her with intrigued expression on his cold, pale face. As Hermione noticed with a hint of surprise, he looked as tired and restless as she did.
But of course he did!
He was after all about two decades older than her, fought in two wars, served two masters for almost half of his life and had absolutely no friends or family to seek help to. That must had been... devastating.
"I don't know what are you thinking about, Miss Granger, but I certainly do not like the way you are staring at me right now, so be so kind and stop it."
She snapped out of her thoughts abruptly.
Yes. Here he mas, snarky, grim bastard.
"I'm..." she began, but Snape raised his hand to hush her.
"Stop this madness, girl and start to behave properly, as a future teacher, not yet another burden on Minerva's head. You came here to help her, didn't you? And now you are apparently starting to regret your decision."
"And how could you know, Professor?" she snapped.
"I do not KNOW, I simply guess." He was smiling bitterly. "Guessing what lies underneath someone's skull is one of my biggest virtues and saved my life so many times I got over with the counting."
"And how do you do it?"
His face was a mix of maliciousness and dark amusement.
"It's a secret Miss Granger".
With that last words he pushed Hermione out of his quarters and closed the door behind her.
YOU ARE READING
Deep Bruises of War (Finnished)
Fanfiction"The war is cruel, they say. War needs sacrifices. Fair enough, she thought." Declaimer: I do not own anything from the books and movies about Harry Potter.
