The Right Thing To Do

Chapter 23

She took a breath. The hard covers of the books dug into her palms, and she opened her eyes, staring at the wooden door to the hospital wing.

She should go back. Sit in the common room and just forget she ever had such a silly idea.

Footsteps from down the hall. She would look so foolish standing outside the infirmary clutching books to her chest. She quickly stepped inside and let the door shut behind her.

The mint green curtains were drawn on several beds, and Madam Pomfrey's office light was on. Someone was moaning at the end of the row, and Hermione peeked to find a first year holding his arm, eyes shut tight. She continued down the row, checking left and right. And in the fourth bed on the right, she found him.

His blonde hair was plastered down on his forehead, wet with sweat. His cheeks were pink with fever, and his brows were drawn together, but he was asleep. Relief flooded her veins, now that she wouldn't have to speak with him, to see his snarl and hear his taunts.

She stepped closer and saw that under the thin sheet pulled up to his chest, his pajama shirt was unbuttoned and open, and an angry red crack started just left of the dip in his collarbone, zagging down and disappearing under the sheet.

She gasped, and the sound ricocheted around the infirmary, dancing with the first year's moans. Pressing her lips together to keep silent, she reached and pulled the sheet down slowly. The line crossed his chest, cutting the other direction just under his heart, and sliced down across his belly. It glistened with the salve Pomfrey had slathered on him. Hermione's lip trembled.

"Come to finish the job, Miss Granger?"

She spun, dropping the sheet, and almost dropping the books. Severus Snape hovered at the foot of the bed, robes pulled tight as he crossed his arms. His black eyes studied her.

"I—I'm sorry. I was just... just delivering Malfoy's notes." He raised a brow at her, so she continued rambling. "He missed classes, and I know he's been falling behind, so I- I wanted to drop off a summary of the lessons, and anything in particular the professors said –"

"If you were assigned the task of taking notes for Mr. Malfoy, then what did Miss Parkinson bring by after classes today?" He nodded to a stack of papers and books on Malfoy's side table. Hermione blushed.

"Doodles and love notes, I'm sure." She refrained from sneering, and looked up into his dark features. "But if you, Malfoy's professor, would prefer Pansy Parkinson's notes to mine, then I'm sure you believe them to be complete, and my notes – unnecessary."

Snape's mouth twisted, and his hand shot out, requesting her papers. She blinked and handed over the book and notes. He flipped through her notes, examining them, and suddenly Draco's body seized. His back bowed and his hands pulled into fists. His legs kicked. Snape did nothing, but flipped a page.

"Is... is he going to be alright, Professor?"

Snape snapped closed the book and frowned at her. "Oh, how I love Gryffindor guilt." He turned to watch Draco as he whined, still asleep. "Yes. The counter-curse will need a few days to work its way through him. The dittany will stop most the scarring."

She watched as Draco's fingers clawed at the sheets, but his hands stayed at his sides. His wrists must be spelled to stick to the bed, she realized, and he must have been trying to claw at his wounds. His face scrunched in pain, and she itched to sit beside him and run her fingers across his tight face..

"Will that be all, Miss Granger?"

She jumped at the silky voice, and turned to find Snape dissecting her. Harry told her what it felt like when he entered your mind, so Hermione knew it was not Legilimency.