The Power of Pain

Chapter 13

As the sounds of pipes rattling with their purpose filled the downstairs Minerva pushed herself up. She had been keeping a close vigil on the two but now she seemed to realize that her presence was going to be greatly protested. In the intervening time, she had removed the broken temporal reader from Hermione's forehead placing it into an inner pocket of her robes. Planning to summon Draco that evening.

She had even taken care to mend Severus' most beloved frock coat. Its buttons were sewn tightly back into place, the worn fabric on the fringes neatly woven back into place. It appeared brand new in its finished condition. A small token of her appreciation for the man's work. She gave one last look to Hermione's sleeping smile before moving towards the kitchen. She summoned her personal house elf to her side, keeping her conversation low not wanting to disturb Hermione. She sent the elf off to Madam Pomfrey to collect a variety of potions she knew Severus was more than capable of brewing but knew he'd have neither the time nor currently possessed the resources. The elf popped out with its orders and Minerva nodded her head taking a deep calming breath.

She had watched the man's face contort with his dreams, the pain, the sorrow that had filled his being as he fought against himself. She knew the man had a deep and difficult past, having watched him grow up herself. She knew that he was a insurmountably strong when the occasion was called for. Though she also knew that he was an exceedingly broken man. A life too hard—for anyone—he had risen above it all, only to be held captive by his own heart.

She knew she was the lesser to have light the flame and that it was his privilege to have been the great to have walked through the fires. For it was always the privilege of lesser men to light the flames that great men to be forged by.

Severus wanted nothing more than to collapse back into his bed as he entered his bedroom. The duvet was missing but at this point, he couldn't have cared. His body felt an odd sort of mix of exhausted and refreshed, his dream was fading slowly from his mind and he couldn't stop himself from ruffling the back of his hair as he shook the feeling of her hand from his mind.

He took a deep breath and leaned his head onto the door frame of the bathroom before thunking it hard enough to make himself wince and rub the spot. Pain cleared things up—yes, he grunted softly as he regretted his decision.

He padded softly into the bathroom as a gentle headache was starting to prick at the back of his senses. He glanced at himself very briefly in the mirror catching nothing but his scowl in return, he pulled off his clothing tossing them haphazardly behind him into the hamper. He turned the taps and waited for the water to settle before stepping in. He hissed slightly as the water flowed over his frame.

The sound of water helped drown out his thoughts before something pressed through. Something over the walls of his shields that he always kept so tightly in place. It's voice was soft and timid. He paused in his washing and sought out the intruder. The voice drifted away and seemed to tease him before winking out completely.

Hermione inhaled deeply arching her back from the chair, her eyes opening slowly. She felt heavy again, but this time she believed it to be simply malnutrition weighing her down. She brought a heavy hand to her face. She hadn't wanted to fall asleep. She hadn't even realized she had until she appeared somewhere else. A place she had never been. It wasn't her mind—she knew, she was in someone else's.

It was a startling revelation when she had realized just whose mind she had ended up inside. Her actions were completely her own, she knew but she couldn't watch the man who had saved her relish in such pain. She had physically felt it before she slipped into the void. His pain, his years of torment, all flowed through herself.