Ten days since she arrived at the Manor, Hermione was ready to pull her hair out. If someone asked her what was the most difficult to endure, she wouldn't have the answer, maybe for the first time in her life. The only thing that was positive in whole this experience was Hades, he seemed to like her.
Professor was a source of constant stress. After that conversation he remained quiet, ever actually setting the ground rules, mainly just barking demands. She really did feel like his personal house-elf. No, lower than…he was always so polite and respectful towards Misty. That sole fact forced her head to spin in different directions at once.
Oh, it was nothing he was doing now that made her task nearly impossible, it was that bloody conversation! She was mortified! It was one thing to do all those things and compartmentalise, separate them in her head in neat little boxes, properly labelled. But now she had to still attend him, touch him, faced with his indifferent attitude. She had to do a daily round of exercises, suddenly painfully aware of the intimacy they shared. The more she tried to avoid the contact, the more he was relaxed, especially during sit-ups. she would try to distance herself and he would allow his head to lean heavily on her shoulder. She was trying to minimise the contact by pushing him up with her hands more than her body, he would lean his entire weight on her. The man was heavy! and some for someone who still looked like a barely more than living corpse. She would ask the permission to check his muscle tone, and he would just grunt in approval, but she tried to do it quickly and proficiently without too much touching. It seemed to her that all she did for him demanded of her to touch him.
His strength in the hands returned slowly, he could now partially feed himself, with her lingering by his side, ready to take over when his strength gave out. His legs were another matter, still unusable. Oh, he wasn't paralysed, just his legs were too weak for anything much. She was grateful for Misty and her help with changing the linens on regular basis.
That elf was another troubling element. Misty made it extremely hard for her to like her or be polite to her. Grumbling insults, fussing over professor, making her feel incompetent. Snape would talk to the elf, in that purring voice of his.
That voice…it was criminal to allow him to have it. It was weapon-worth of Azkaban. It could be sharp and cold, like a steel of the blade. And it could be…sinful…like silken scarf draped over gravel, sending an unpleasant army of ants in a slow march down her back.
Luckily, with her he was quiet. With her. With Malfoy, he was so much talkative that she was stunned. With Mrs Malfoy as well. Narcissa ignored her, save from first formal greeting, same as Lucius. But their talks, her father referred to that kind of conversations as "male hunting stories", she had just one opinion about that…To. Much. Information! Waaaaay too much. At first, she would excuse herself to take a quick shower. But, after a while it became ludicrous. Her hair started to resemble dandelion from too many drying spells.
That day she opted to stay in the room and read, trying to ignore their conversation. Not that it worked, the tone of voice they used could only be described as a sonorous whisper, every word floating in her direction. Finally, she snapped
"Could you…just…not talk about…that? Or at least grant me to exit the room?" conversation came to the halt and both men looked at her.
"Perhaps another shower, Miss Granger?" offered Lucius
"Mr Malfoy I know that Muggles have said 'Cleanliness is next to Godliness' but in all honesty, in my case, it starts to border on the disorder. If I can go out to the hallway it would be perfectly fine." She huffed, annoyed, she would rather take the stroll through the manor, drank tea in the drawing room than suffer more of their conversations. Snape looked at Malfoy, one brow waved but not raised, Lucius glanced at him
"Fine. You may stand in the hallway, next to the room's door. But do not venture any further Miss Granger." His voice had dangerous tilt
"Hallway, next to the door is just fine. Thank you." She picked up her book, jar with bluebell-flame and marched out in dark hallway, sighing in relief when the door clicked closed behind her.
She sat on the floor and set the jar next to her, opening the book. Blessed silence and solitude. She was going bonkers all cooped up in that room with Snape. His presence was constant, even in her dreams. Through, not too disturbing. His memories mostly revolved around the endless sea of faces, crying first-year's, asking for medical potions, first love heartbreaks, domestic problems. What stopped her was his attitude, his willingness to listen to all the problems, give the advice or assist as best as he could. She never presumed that Slytherin's had so many problems and his unyielding support. In a way, she could understand now why he was so protective of them. Knowing this, she felt that way too, appeared to her that his memories bombarded him chronologically and she was dreading the moment when they would show her. It also struck her that they were selective, almost like the snippets, just broken parts preserved separately from the whole picture.
Lost in thoughts she didn't even notice that she is starring in the same sentence for more than twenty minutes. Sudden clicking noise snapped her from her thoughts. Door opposite to her opened and Narcissa Malfoy appeared on them. She set the book next to the jar and stood up.
"Good day Mrs Malfoy. Ummm, your husband gave me permission to stay here while he is talking to the professor." The woman just nodded and turned to walk away then glanced at her
"Miss Granger, do you wear that type of clothing all the time?"
"Umm, yes, nowadays."
"Dreadful." Narcissa just turned and walked away, making her feel small and insignificant. She sighed. She was wearing the sweatshirt and sweatpants and trainers, they were comfortable and easy to move around in them.
She didn't even manage to sit properly when the door clicked again, jumping on her feet again. Draco! Great, what else? Draco gave her one look full of contempt
"What are you doing here Granger?"
"Waiting for your father and professor the finish their conversation."
"Don't you have anywhere else to be?"
"No. What's that to you anyway, it's not like I'm bothering you." She huffed. Draco was unpleasant as always, but the familiar enemy was almost comforting, sparking her natural defence against him. Draco looked thin, pale and still quite sickly.
"Your existence is bothering me." He sneered
"Then just go wherever you were going, and you won't be bothered with my presence."
"Don't you be rude towards me, in my own home, Bucktooth"
"Just walk away Feretface, or I'll re-introduce you to my fist." She growled.
"As if you would survive something like that." He sneered and entered the room where Snape and Lucius were talking.
That was enough! She was sick and tired of those people. That was more than enough! She stomped her foot like it's going to reaffirm her thoughts.
~ S ~ S ~ S ~
It was dinner time when Draco and Lucius left his room. He was worried about Draco, the boy was pale, sickly and withdrawn. It wasn't just the sickness and the curse, something was bothering him and whatever it was he wouldn't tell in front of his father. He invited the boy to come and keep him company while Lucius was working. With a little luck, he'll manage to toss out Granger.
Speaking of Granger, she slipped quietly into the room and called the elf. After usual politeness and Misty's insults, food was delivered. She sat next to him, letting him enjoy the usage of his strength, what little that he had. It was frustrating to will himself to still the shaking of his hands just enough so he could take few spoons by himself before she would have to take over.
After the dinner she turned her back to him, looking through the window at the garden.
"Miss Granger, I'd like to discuss some things with Draco, without you present tomorrow."
"I am outside when Malfoy's are here anyway."
"Alone with Draco." He emphasized, talking slowly like she is mentally challenged or two years old.
"You know I can't leave this room, and at this point…Even the stroll through the Manor would be welcomed, believe me." She sounded grumpy, terse, her voice dry
"I may persuade the Lucius, Manor is truly lovely…"
"No thank you, I still have a vivid memory of my last visit here."
"When were you in the Manor?" he frowned, that was news even for him
"Like you don't know." She hissed
"No. I. Do. Not. Know." The anger stirred in his chest, it was so difficult to control it now, without his walls
"Oh, no! You don't get to drag me into another of your tricky insulting conversations. If you don't know, then it should stay that way." He blinked 'What the hell is wrong with her? She does not get to be angry, that is MY prerogative.'
"Not where you want to be, then, eh? Well, well, little miss perfect don't like when she tastes her own medicine."
"I don't, but I'll muddle through. And so are you, willing or not." She turned to him, eyes narrowed and angry 'Now we're talking.'
"The chit with a hero complex, a glorious saviour who must save every single one that crosses her path. Regardless of their own wishes."
"You just don't get it! Don't you! You are totally clueless!" she almost screamed at him "You have to live and you will. You'll live and be happy!"
"Miss Granger…" he growled at her
"No! You don't get to tell me 'Miss Granger' in that tone. You have no clue…not a single one! I watched so many died on that field, and I couldn't do a damn thing to save them, on either side. Then you survived against all odds! Even I…I left you there…on that…blood…as dead. I just turned and left. Never gave it a thought until you were brought back – alive. So no, your wishes don't hold merit. I don't care about them! No way anyone else going to die on my watch." Her ferocity was explosive and so sudden, it made the room crackle with magic
"Even if that is against my wishes" he hissed, who does she thinks she is…. she stomped to the bed and leaned over him, pinning his wrists where they were on the bed, flashing her eyes at him, hissing in his face
"Especially, if it's against your wishes."
"I will have my way, even if that means that I will have to strangle you with my bare hands" he growled at her
"Good! Then you could work with me instead of against me." He narrowed his eyes at her and she mirrored his expression "Because, frankly, now…you are more than incapable to carry that threat or even of yourself." He barked a dry laugh and scoffed at her "If hating me will move you in the right direction, then go ahead, hate me. See if I care. You are a tool." She hissed at his face and released him walking briskly to her sofa
"So I see that you took a page from Albus's book or Dark Lord's for that matter."
"I don't care! The end justifies the means, isn't that Slytherin motto?"
"I believe that was Machiavelli" he dampened, cold anger nesting in his chest
"And here I thought he is Slytherin's role model." She was at the bathroom door, slamming them loudly behind her.
He blinked at the door and wedged deep canal between his brows. Little stuck-up bitch. Oh, she is going to pay. And now, when her fight was back…'Let's the games begin.' He thought darkly