She slammed the bathroom door as hard as she could and leaned on them, shaking, fighting to breathe normally. She pressed one hand against her chest, like the motion itself going to preserve her heart from leaping out, it was doing pretty good job of tearing out of her chest. He heart was beating in the frantic beat, bruising her palm. She glided down the door, strength giving out. 'What was I thinking?' instead of beating her head at the door, he could hear that and she is not keen on giving him this victory, she mashed her forehead against her bended knees. 'Am I that insane?' her hands were shaking badly.
With difficulty, she pushed herself off the floor and set the water in the shower running, quickly filling the bathroom with steam. Two things that were leftovers from war, almost painfully hot baths and always finishing her meal while still hot, nearly burning her mouth. She stepped under the shower.
'Did I just yelled at Severus Snape? Did I just challenge Severus Snape? What was I thinking?' apparently she wasn't or she wouldn't do something so stupid 'Gods! I'm turning into Ron!' she nearly whispered loudly at that thought.
With a low growl she gets rid of the wet clothes, forgetting to take it off before stepping into the shower was just cementing proof that she did indeed go bonkers. Once divested, hot water hit her body with a pleasant sting, her skin turning red almost instantly. She was still shaking, feeling a chill running bone deep.
She just challenged Snape, invited him to hate her! For Merlin's name, she screamed in his face! Oh, she is going to die! Slow, painful death. At his hand, for sure. That man managed to outlived Voldemort and Dumbledore! He lied and played both of these two powerful wizards. What she saw in her dreams…his power could easily match theirs, combined! She was sure of it. And she just challenged him!
Why was she so set on waking him up? He was much more manageable while he was in a coma. Shure, she had to flick her wand once and awhile at the…phyton. Embracing, but much preferable to the viper tongue of his. Ugh, that man, he could force her to lose her temper like no one other.
Shampooing her hair she tried really hard to bring her breathing in control. There was no use if she passes out in the bathroom, under the running water. That blasted elf was capable of letting her drown, probably would be happy too. Misty made Kreacher in his worst day looking like a friendliest elf in the world. She couldn't believe it, but she really, really disliked that elf. And that made the situation even worse.
Stepping out of the shower, she growls again, annoyed with herself. Charming a towel reck she placed all her wet clothes to dry with slow drying spell. Looking at what she brought with her, panties, oversized shirt with the logo of Bulgarian Quidditch team and a pair of fuzzy socks. Ok, that is her comfort clothing, and shirt did fell nearly to her knees, but still, not an appropriate clothing to parade in front of her professor. In front any male for that matter.
Steeling herself for what he might say she cast a drying spell on her hair that whizzed around her head. Grumbling 'Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!' she urged on her tresses, wincing from pain until she managed to braid them into a thick single braid.
Taking last of the steadying breaths, she marched into the room and to her sofa, transfiguring the cushion into a fluffy pillow and blanket into the comforter. Doing her best to ignore one sarcastic brow waved high on the professor's forehead.
"Do you think it is appropriate to be dressed like that Miss Granger?"
'No!' "It is appropriate for the night. I want to be comfortable when I sleep." She replied dryly, not turning back, hoping with all her might that she isn't blushing
"It is just my luck then," he continued with a low voice, spitting out the word 'luck' like it was a rotten piece of food in his mouth "that I'm stuck with a 'nurse' who has a hero complex and survivor's guilt all at once?"
Her back straightened. Survivor's guilt, how she didn't think of that? Sure she knew something was wrong with her, but no medi-witch gave her diagnosis. Then again wizarding world did recognize crazy only when you are completely bonkers, everything else was pushed under the rug and not talked about. What was more surprising, was that he not only knew about it but recognized the symptoms. And they even eluded her.
"It would seem so, professor." She replies sharply and casts a monitoring spell, bit more sensitive than the one in the hospital, it will alarm her if anything is off "Good night, professor." She turns off the light and forces her brain to stop thinking. Maybe it is just paranoia but his Legilimency skills are famous, almost innate and she doesn't want to give him ammunition.
It was the middle of the night when an alarm from monitoring spell set on, beeping loudly. She jumps from her sleeping place, feeling dizzy, and casts low light. He is shaking, his teeth chattering.
"Ough!" she whines, and rushes to his bed, he hadn't had post-cruciatus tremors in a while. Was the argument that triggered them? And then it hits her, she can't toss herself over him now, not dressed like this and not while he is awake. And he is awake, his hands clutching the comforter and his eyes staring at the ceiling.
She grabbed his legs and pulled them together, pressing them to the bed with one of her legs. She pushed his arms against his torso and pressed them with her elbows, locking her hands on his is partially lying, partially kneeling on him, but it is good lock-down and he can't hurt himself or fell from the bed.
"Get off me you wretch." He hisses chattering with his teeth, she does not answer but does not waken her lock on him. But it is hard to hold him like this. And her stubborn exercises paid off, he is much stronger, she needs to put much more strength into holding him down, which worries her. How she's going to control him in time to come?
The tremors weaken and she breathes a sigh of relief, her own muscles are shaking from the endeavour to hold him. There are still some aftershocks, but they are mild, still, she holds him tightly.
"You may let go now, Miss Granger, unless…you are trying to tell me something." His eyes are still foggy from pain but they have a back glow of malice in them now
"I'm trying to prevent you from self-harm, professor. Noting more."
"Are you sure?" he lowers his eyes from her face to her body, and she blushed fiercely. The shirt has a wide neckline that in this position fell fully to her front, hiding virtually nothing from his view. Her kneeling position revealed her panties, they are plain white cotton, but not the sight she was aiming for him to see nonetheless.
"Quite." She growls, tremors are still there and she won't let go even if it kills her "Now if you are reasonable about this as you usually are about anything else, or Merlin forbid gentlemen enough, you wouldn't comment. And you would take this situation for what it is."
"And what is it, pray tell."
"A nurse helping a patient." She huffs and he raises an eyebrow again, at this point she is a step away to charm it off his face
"I was not familiar with fact that nurses should parade semi-naked and throw themselves at their patients." He draws "I should consider myself lucky you didn't decide to lie on me."
Her face started to burn, now she is sure she is blushing. Even her ears are burning. He rolls his eyes
"I see. And when that lucky occurrence took place?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about, professor"
"Come now, Miss Granger, don't take me for a fool." He lowered his voice to that damn pure again "I think I should be informed if and when a young woman decides to use me as a mattress."
"Holding you to prevent you from falling off the bed or harm yourself is something I hardly classify calling 'using you as mattress', professor."
"Is that your knick Miss Granger? Or is it that you want to get my affection by any means available?" his voice lowered for a note, those blasted ants travel down her back and up her scalp, she could just kill him "I must inform you that I am not interested."
"In getting better. I know that, but it still is not your choice." She feigns that she does not understand him, but her blush gives her away, she could cry
"You never were a good liar Miss Granger." He purrs "Still I'm not into swotty little girls."
She bit her tongue not to blurt out that she has a really good grip of understanding of what he's into. And her face is getting hotter. Gods, she hates this! Finally, she releasing him. Sliding off the bed she hisses
"Good night, professor."
"Sweet dreams, Miss Granger." His voice is all silk and sugar and she suppresses the need to send a rather strong stinging hex at his direction. She lies in her bed, light is once again turned off and the room is dark. She listens to sounds, and soon small even puffs of breath come from his bed. He is sleeping. She is still awake, fighting the tears. How can she help him? Everything she does he twists and turns, making it like she is doing it go get to…him. And she does not! She does not want to touch him. She does not want to be so intimately familiar with him. She saw too much of him, way more than she ever wanted. Can't he understand how uncomfortable all this is for her?