𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 II SS/HG ✔️

Breakthrough

Severus finished buttoning his coat. Hermione sat up straight in bed. He couldn't see much of her face for her hair was everywhere.

She sprang into action a moment later—she snatched her sling from the table and finagled her arm into it, then skittered into her bedroom and shut the door.

What the bloody Hell is that about?

The schedule Hermione had created down to the half hour increments stated he had some free time for half the day. Might as well figure out what she was up to and head off whatever foolish idea she or Potter or Weasley came up with.

Dressing was slow-going with one arm out of commission. It had only been a week but Hermione felt much improved. She had a hunch about why and wanted to verify.

She also needed to figure out what other items Voldemort would entrust with his soul.

She could research two birds with one stone in the library.

Her hair looked a right mess on the side she couldn't reach, and she couldn't wear trainers since she couldn't tie them. But the arms were through the right shirt holes, and the legs were in the correct sides of her trousers, so, to the library she went.

It was a Saturday, so the library was nowhere near at capacity. That suited Hermione fine. She checked the rolls for books she might need—books on magical laws and contracts, Daily Prophet editions about the marriage law, Hogwarts yearbooks from Voldemort's time as a student and the biographies of Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin.

The heavy books floated over to her usual seat. She gathered the papers and magazines by hand.

The first thing that struck her was a photograph of Riddle in his last year. He was stoic at Professor Slughorn's side, posing for a group Slug Club shot.

She did not linger on that page. That he could kill a former mentor so easily—not today. She would have to think about it later.

The last page listed the honorable mentions and awards handed out during the term. Tom Riddle's services to the school award was the last mention of him.

Hermione growled and ran her hand through her hair. It was frustrating to see his reward for murdering Myrtle—and framing Hagrid for it.

To switch gears, she researched the marriage law's current incarnation, not that that subject was any more cheerful. Edits over the previous version included: No compulsion to love (which Hermione approved of), no compulsion to procreate (which Hermione vehemently approved of), no punishment clause for infidelity (so far, this could have been way, way worse, Hermione realized), and a reduction from birthing a required two children to only one to exit the marriage or none at all.

Hermione scooted the Prophets away to pull the law book closer. Based on how the book immediately fell open to the marriage section, she had not been the only one to do some research lately.

The archaic language required some mental gymnastics, but Hermione finally found her answer. Long story short, the Healers were being overrun with critical injuries, so the law gave a little perk to the unfortunate souls forced to get married—proximity to the spouse, via leveraging each other's magic, encouraged the body's healing processes.

So brewing in the same room would help a headache, and sleeping in the same bed would accelerate her arm's repair.

With that information Hermione felt...better. More useful to Severus. He didn't like her, and he didn't like when she offered to help him with anything. But this way, neither of them even had to ask. She helped him heal, whether he liked it or not.