The Power of Pain

Chapter 10

Severus had released Draco after an hour passed. The boy having had taken his job seriously during that time. He had hesitated at first pausing often. Severus had watched him carefully in between his indexing making sure that he wasn't inadvertently causing more harm than good.

He would be lying if he didn't find some satisfaction in the boy's awkwardness. As it was, he was just glad the job was done. As Draco excused himself claiming the need to get home to his wife and child Severus said nothing. He simply waved a dismissive hand to him and turned a page in his book.

Thus far he had managed to find four likely candidates. Having had dismissed any creature that didn't fit his current profile. Strong, able to take the sight, trap the mind and above all, dark. Soul eaters were at the top of his list. The simple fact that Hermione wasn't seeing the image he was projecting laid evidence that outside influence was some how distorted and thus warping her current perceptions. He had hoped that with the dark magic he'd pulled out there would have been a change, a bigger change. Though as he thought back on it. The energy he had pulled out felt very familiar. Too, familiar.

He had realized rather late, that all he'd done that night was remove the dark magic Bellatrix had placed to keep her wounds fresh and raw. That woman, was more than twisted at the best of times but he knew what she was like when she went into one of her raves. A darkness had built inside of that crazy witch her entire life. He seriously doubted if she even had a soul left by the time of her demise. Just thinking back on her now made even he shudder with the idea of being remotely close to her. Even if it was just residual magic of someone long dead.

Dead. Death. Severus sat up, Hermione had been cursed into being in a perpetual state of death. Of all the memories that she had, whatever it was that had cursed her had chosen the memory that held the most death. The most pain. He turned to his list frowning deeply. He crumpled it up and tossed it into the dead fireplace to burn later. He pulled a fresh piece of paper out and turned to the back index again. His mind on a new track with renewed vigor.

oOo

Night was coming into full force now and his eyes were rather tired. Hermione was laying comfortably on her stomach, the stones a dim murky white. The rise and fall of her back hypnotic if not cathartic in its own rights. Though something was niggling at the back of his mind. Something he knew to be dreadfully important. He sat the book aside, open at his current find and leaned forward just a bit as he tried to find the missing information. He watched her face closely.

He noted that her eyes no longer looked sunken in and her cheeks didn't look so gaunt. She was, in his opinion, starting to resemble more as she saw herself in her own mind. She was still thin by all standards; but now she at least looked as if she'd have the strength to open a book it not read it. Though his eyes had warily approved of her current health, he also knew her face held the answers. He turned his attention back towards her eyes. The memory of those white, sightless eyes washing down his spine. His lips pursed as the clock in the kitchen ticked by the seconds.

Moving. They weren't moving. He turned quickly in his chair pulling an old pocket watch from the side table clicking it open. He calculated quickly since the last time she had had an attack. 12 hours. it had been over 12 hours. He calculated the time they had slept as well. He'd woken late, far later than his usual time. His guests had stayed no more than 2 hours in total that day. Maybe 30 minutes in the late morning and no more than an hour and half in early evening. He had had the entire afternoon to himself. She had not once interrupted his brewing with so much as a whimper.