𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 II SS/HG ✔️

Preparations

Hermione stayed in bed. She watched Severus undress and redress for the day. With the sunlight sneaking through the numerous curtains Severus had installed, it was easy to see the marks from Voldemort…and others…on his skin. If he noticed her observation, he did not mention it. When he was fully dressed, she sat up.

"Can I take this off?" She held out her wrapped up arm when he turned.

He turned as he buttoned his sleeves. "Are you certain it is healed?"

Yesterday, she had had full range of motion with the arm. "Can you check?" What Bellatrix had done—Hermione's throat had been raw from all the screaming.

Severus strode to her side of the bed and held out his hand. Hermione set her wrist upon his palm.

It had felt like hours, lying on the floor, entirely helpless. Just her and Bellatrix. Bellatrix whispering about the things she would do to her before finally letting her die.

Severus carefully unwound the bandage. Hermione turned her face away.

Severus's warm fingertips brushed the deeper scars. It didn't hurt.

She peeked at her arm—what should have been gruesome scabs were thin red lines. The letters were slightly raised from the rest of her skin. They'd be there forever.

Severus placed all his fingertips on top of the slur. He almost covered it entirely.

"I don't suppose it will get any better than that," she said quietly.

"I would rather it not be worse," he murmured.

Hermione felt his hands tense up after such a declaration. She grabbed his wrist before he could make a swift retreat. "Severus. What happened that day? When you killed Dumbledore?"

He tensed in her grip and scowled at her. He had been doing that a lot, trying to scowl away the foolhardy bank heist that loomed closer with each passing hour.

"Please. It's important." She had to know exactly what happened. Voldemort was obsessing over Severus, like he had obsessed over Gregorovitch, then Grindelwald, then Dumbledore…all three of them, owners of the Elder Wand. She closed her eyes so Severus could not pull that from her mind on accident.

"Draco assisted Nagini into the castle as Bathilda Bagshot," he said, voice quiet but sharp. "Once in his office, she bit his hand, presumably because Draco couldn't do the job."

"And Dumbledore just let a snake lunge at him?" With her eyes closed, it was unfortunately easy to imagine the scene.

"Draco disarmed him before I arrived."

Hermione squeezed his wrist. "I see."

"I then—"

She opened her eyes. Severus's scowl was pointed to the bed. "It's alright," she said. "We can stop talking about it." She released his wrist.

They stood there, in silence, for several minutes.

He swiftly exited the bedroom to begin work in his office.

Hermione finished her Bellatrix-esque dress. The hard part would be convincing a goblin that she was the fearsome, ruthless, Bellatrix Lestrange. She and Harry could sneak into the bank under the Invisibility Cloak so she wasn't worried about Rodolphus spotting her.

At least, she didn't think so. But her nightmares made it clear she had been lying to herself all day.

Bellatrix and Rodolphus and Lucius Malfoy loomed over Hermione. She lay paralyzed on the cold, tiled floor. The ceiling was too high and dark to see. There was no light but from the slash of Bellatrix's blade or the flash from the wizards' curses. They laughed at her as pieces—fingers, toes, ears, arms—of her body fell away. They avoided standing in her 'dirty blood.' And they called in Dobby to clean it up, the knife still rooted in his chest.

She jerked awake. Severus had his back to her, but was pressed to her side. Maybe he had the same theory about touch and bad dreams.

Hermione curled up, her twisted up hands and her cheek pressed to his back and shoulders, hers legs slotting beneath his. Severus tensed but didn't move.

Recovering from torture and shaking from a nightmare might not be the best times to make such decisions, but Hermione decided that she would convince Severus to cuddle at night when all this was over. If they both lived.