The sound of reshelving stopped.
“Now that you mention it, there were several who disappeared. Travers, Pettigrew, and Jugson most notably.” Severus' voice was on the other side of the sitting room.
Hermione stared into the fire. “He was trying to find a way to get the mark off so he could run with her. Spying was always just revenge.”
Severus said nothing and continued reshelving. Hermione wondered if he believed her.
Compromised. Unreliable. He probably thought she was just there to beg.
“He said he'll make an Unbreakable Vow; whatever Moody wants.”
There was silence. Then a hand wrapped around her shoulder, and Severus turned her suddenly to face him. His onyx eyes glittered in the firelight. He appeared to be taking in her appearance for the first time. His expression was aghast.
“What did you do?”
Hermione looked up at him, her gaze steady. “I accomplished my mission: I made him loyal.”
Severus touched the side of her head. Her braids had been pulled apart and the sections hung haphazardly. She flushed and jerked her head away from his hand. His hold on her shoulder tightened, and he herded her further into the light, tilted her head back and stared at her, his nostrils flaring.
Hermione didn't want to be looked at. She tried to twist away. “Can I use your bathroom? I couldn't go back to Grimmauld Place like this, and I didn't — I didn't have anywhere else to go.”
Severus' hand on her shoulder tightened for a moment, as though he were hesitating. His mouth was pressed into a hard line, then he started to speak as his eyes darted down over her again.
Hermione turned her head away to avoid watching his face, hunching her shoulders and curling defensively inward. His hand on her shoulder released, and he slowly stepped back, gesturing down the hallway.
Hermione turned without a word, and walked out of the sitting room into the small bathroom near the kitchen. As she locked the door, she stared in the mirror; she looked so pale she was nearly grey, but her lips were reddened and bruised. Her braids looked like a bird's nest. Her shirt was torn; she hadn't noticed it when she had been redressing.
She shoved her trousers and knickers down and banished the mixture of blood and semen collected there. It had grown cold against her skin, and she hadn't been able to ignore it. Not in the shack. Not in rain waiting for Severus. It was just there, as a cold reminder against her flesh.
Her hands were shaking almost violently as she jerked her trousers back up. She repaired the tear in her shirt and then reached up to remove the hairpins still holding up her hair.
Her lips were trembling, and the corners of her eyes pricked as she rapidly unbraided her hair and then carefully braided each side. She was not going to cry. She was not. She kept repeating the resolution. She tried to occlude everything she didn't want to think about, but the walls wouldn't stay. She bit her lip as she coiled the long braids carefully at the base of her neck and repinned them.
She stared at her reflection again. She was thinner than she'd been when she'd first seen Draco in March. Her cheeks were hollowed, and her collarbones stuck out starkly. She bruised easily.
Stress had carved her away, bit by bit.
She reached into her satchel and pulled out a small jar of Murtlap essence, spreading it across her lips she watched the colour slowly fade away. Then she dabbed at a few spots along her neck.
She walked back out of the bathroom. Severus was in the kitchen; there were several small cauldrons bubbling. When he turned and saw her, he immediately snatched up a several vials and came toward her.
“Take these,” he ordered.
Hermione looked at the vials placed in her hands. Draught of Peace to make her hands stop shaking, a contraceptive potion, and a pain relief potion.
“I don't need this one,” she said, handing the contraceptive back. “I've already been taking it.”
Severus' expression barely rippled as he took it back and slipped it into a pocket.
“What happened?” Severus asked after she downed the Draught of Peace. His tone was softly murderous.
Hermione avoided his piercing gaze and unstoppered the pain relief potion. “I don't know why you're upset. Didn't you expect this to eventually happen from the very beginning?”
Severus was silent for several moments. “I've been on call, the evening you first went, and every Tuesday morning until my shift in the labs.”
“Oh. I didn't know that.” She glanced around the room, wondering why no one had told her. Then again, apparently they didn't tell her anything. A useful tool.
She had thought Severus at least had regarded her as more than that. She pressed her lips together.
There was small barrel of Dragon Claw Ooze on the worktop; she stepped over and looked at it. It was Peruvian Vipertooth: expensive, good for restorative potions, strengtheners, and gave an additional kick to pepper-up when dealing with Black Cat Flu.
She removed the cork and sniffed it.
“Hermione, what happened?”
She stilled and replaced the cork. Severus almost never called her by her first name.
She looked over at him coolly, but her jaw trembled uncontrollably. “I told you he wanted me. Today he gave in.”Her eyes dropped away. “It was just — abrupt. He didn't know that I — hadn't — before. I was afraid if he knew, he'd stop. Last time — when he kissed me and I — hesitated — he — he didn't come back for over a month. So I couldn't let on. I was afraid he'd never come back if I did.”
Severus said nothing.
Hermione pressed her hand against her collarbones. “He was so upset afterward, I thought he might actually faint. Then everything just poured out of him. I don't think he's ever told anyone before. He started crying when he told me about Narcissa. He's been waiting for us to sell him out. That's why he kept climbing; he figured the more important he was, the greater the blow for Tom when he died.”
There was a silence punctuated only by the faint bubbling of the cauldrons.
Hermione didn't know where to look. She didn't know what to do. She could feel Severus staring at her, his eyes skeptical.
Compromised. Unreliable. She bit her lip and turned away.
After a minute Severus gave a low sigh. Hermione looked back at him, her heart rate shooting upward.
“If he's suicidal, why is he offering to make an Unbreakable Vow?” Severus' expression was unreadable.
Hermione's mouth twitched, and she twisted the edge of her shirt in her hands. “Well, now that he can't deny the obsession to himself, I don't think he knows how to let go of it. Now that he's given in. I don't think he has any kind of moderation in how possessive he is, even before he got the runes. I may not have made an Unbreakable Vow, but I swore myself to him. He regards me as his. I think — I think that's what changed things.” Hermione looked away, twisting her fingers in her hands. “Will you — will you tell Moody? I don't think he believes anything I say now. But — I did what I was told to. So, you shouldn't — you can't — don't make me—”
Her hands started shaking again.
“I'll speak to Moody,” Severus said. “You did enough. I didn't expect that you would—” his voice faded for a moment. “If he agreed to make the Unbreakable Vow, that is more than enough.”
Hermione nodded repeatedly, glancing blindly around the room. “Alright. Alright. I'll go then.”
“You will wait,” Severus said firmly.
Hermione stood, feeling awkward and out of place, and he stared at her and seemed on the verge of saying something. He reached towards her but stopped when he got within an inch of her shoulder. He curled his hand into a fist and withdrew it, still peering down at her.
“Are—” he blinked and started again, “Would—”