Senses

Chapter 2

Warmth, the only thing that could register in Hermione's weakened mind. The air was thick, as though it was raining. A smell, like nothing she had smelled since her capture slowly invaded her waking mind. Sandalwood, lavender, a touch of something else that ticked away at a long forgotten memory. A slow breath rattled up through her chest passed her broken lips and rewarded her with a new sensation.

Hands; large, soft, slow-moving hands. She couldn't recall having felt them before. Her brow ticked as they moved from her arm, raising it up, holding it in their palm. Her fingers twitched but she didn't resist. Soft wet clothe brushed against her fingers making her skin burn. A broken noise caught in her shattered throat but she didn't dare to push it forward.

Gradually, the burning faded and she felt—for the first time in a long time—all the dirt that had covered her skin lift away. It felt odd, freeing, The small cuts on her digits seemed to breathe on their own, no longer covered with blood. It reminded her of the feeling of taking a shower after being out in the heat and sun all day. That sort of liberating feeling one would get when the feeling of cleanliness registered. It was a woefully appreciated feeling.

When the cloth pulled back, Hermione didn't resist, rather she slowly extended her fingers out, as though begging for its return. The hand that held her own shifted, resting her thin fingers over their wide palm. There was no question that the hand that held her belonged to a male. A thought that should have revolted her, made her fear their intentions, felt nothing more than a casual observation.

The cloth returned again, this time taking to her chaffed wrist. Her face pinched and her fingers curled around their palm. Still, they did not relent. Oddly, their touch remained gentle, almost—dare she say, kind. Moving in small circles, calling away bits of dead skin and anything else that had come to cover her. Just as before, the burning warmth subsided and her skin breathed.

Down and down they went, breathing new life into her soul. As they came to the junction of her shoulder she felt her hand being lowered down. A small fear prickled at her senses when they turned her arm, exposing the vein of her elbow. The fingers that had held her returned, running over the sensitive skin, pressing and prodding. It was only when a small pinch registered did she realize what they had done. A soft cloth wrapped the needle in place and her world slipped into the void once again.

Severus let out a slow breath, turning the wheel on the tube to allow his potion to flow directly into her veins. His dark eyes shining in the evening light that filtered in from the sheer curtains. He couldn't believe that the girl had managed to survive. It seemed impossible, improbable. Yet there she was. Laid out on a cushioned table he'd transfigured to work as a makeshift medical table.

Her cleaned skin was raw, the cuts leaving large swaths of skin, frail and thin. Rashes, bug bites, other maladies colored the surface. He'd been extremely careful not to pull away any large amount of skin having used dittany where he could. Bruises, handprints, and binds; striped the expanse. It was only the beginning. He had to make sure she could survive the healing process otherwise, there would be no point to any of this.

The drip he'd placed into her arm would give her body the basic nutrients it would need to remain alive, buying him the time he needed. It would allow her body to rest, naturally and provide him the solace of keeping her face free of pain. There was so much to do.

Another deep breath steeled his resolve and he cleared away the murky water to start anew. With the tip of his wand, he pulled away the sheet he'd placed over her, settling it at her waist. Once there he cut the remaining fabric of her shirt, carefully pulling it free from the skin that had grown around it.