The Funeral Portrait by the French Press, Chapter 3.
Outside the window, daylight is bleeding slowly towards dusk.
He looks up from the pages of the book in his hand, slides the
bookmark back between them and folds it closed.
Glancing back towards the door, he sees Padma through the window
speaking to another healer. Severus huffs a soft sigh as he
places the book down on the stand beside Hermione's bed and
waits for her to join him. When the young healer finally
enters, there is a frown creasing her brow.
She replaces it with a forced smile when he raises an eyebrow
in question at her. It's nothing.
She tells him and clipping the chart from the end of the bed.
It didn't look like nothing. He says frowning.
Padma sighs, hugging the clipboard folder to her chest.
It was my supervisor. She explains.
He isn't thrilled about you working on Hermione's case with
me, but the head healer overruled him.
Severus feels a tremor of guilt, he had not intended to cause her
problems at work. Healer PE till she holds up her
hand and sighs heavily. I thought we agreed that you
would call me Padma. She interrupts.
You have no reason to feel guilty or apologise.
I suggested this and the head of Saint Mungo's agrees.
Your help will be valuable. However I think that he is just
relieved as I wasn't asking him for more money or resources.
My supervisor is just he doesn't like me.
Severus finishes, to which she flushes and nods.
Not exactly news, but I am rather infamous.
That doesn't matter. Padma insists.
What matters is that you are here and we will work on this
together. It is oddly touching that the
young woman advocates for him, yet he still feels discomforted
by it. He isn't used to anyone vouching
for him or believing in him. He swallows the lump in his
throat, shifting to stand and pace near the empty side of the
room where the bed used to rest. He's been waiting most of the
afternoon for Padma to arrive so that he can share some vital
information with her before they proceed, but now she stands
before him, he's finding it difficult to speak.
You look like you have something to say.
She says, interrupting his train of thought.
He pauses before her and nods. Before we can proceed, I have to
share something with you that is not common knowledge.
I am a Legilimens and I believe that my skill will be helpful to
discover what is keeping Hermione trapped within her own
mind, if indeed that is the case.
He informs her. Legilimens.
Does the Ministry know? She asks, seemingly shocked.
Severus nods. Not all but the Ministry is
aware. He answers.
I can assure you I have already attempted to penetrate her mind
several times, but without success.
She is occluding powerfully. Whether that is intentional or
not I am not certain, but I believe with some research I
will be able to find a way to bypass those mental Shields to
find out just what is lurking beneath.
When he finishes speaking, Padma nods as her mind turns over the
information he has dumped on her.
OK. She says softly.
OK, this is a good thing. Never in his life has Severus
been more grateful to be Legitimans as he is now if he
can help Hermione. His hand flexes at his side as
he pushes the thought away. He cannot let his emotions get
in the way now. Severus watches as Padma stares
out of the window for a moment. The sun has almost completely
set now, and his time there is at an end.
I must go. He tells her.
I will be working on a potion to breach her Shields.
She turns and nods, sliding the clipboard folding back into the
end of the bed. I'll leave you to say goodbye.
She walks from the room. Severus is awash with gratitude.
Padman never attempts to intrude upon his time there, and somehow
intuitively knows that he would be uncomfortable with an
audience. He crosses to Hermione's
bedside, taking up her cold hand between both of his.
He does not presume to do any more than this.
After all, it was not as though they had been in a romantic
relationship. She was simply his protege,
someone who had been his confidante and comrade during
war times. I won't stop trying, Hermione.
He promises, vocalising it for the first time in her presence.
I will do whatever it takes to bring you back.
He releases her lifeless hand to take a stray curl out of her
face before he leaves her room, nodding wordlessly at Padma as
he passes by the healer station outside the hospital.
He likes his customary fag as he walks to the nearby park and
apparates home. He blows the smoke out, mindful
to not waft it in the direction of another passerby.
Making use of a convenient cops of trees, he spins a way home,
pinching out the end of the cigarette as he does.
In his kitchen, he disposes of the butt while he rummages for
something to eat. He doesn't spend a lot of time
there, so his icebox and cupboards are fairly empty.
With the wave of his wand, a tin of soup is heated and deposited
into a bowl, which Severus carries through to his office.
Once there, he summons a number of books from the shelves, each
landing with a soft thud on his desk.
Now that Padma knows of his plans, he can begin working on a
way to reach Hermione. He draws out parchment, ink, and
quill and gets to work. Between going back and forth
from his home and the hospital to read to Hermione and his work
brewing, it is 3 weeks before Severus finally produces
something he supposes will work. He drags himself to scent
Mungo's early, stopping to buy a black coffee along the way as he
waits for Padma's shift to begin.
Sitting on a bench in the park, he sips at the bitter beverage
while anxiously puffing on a cigarette.
His stomach is in nuts and he can practically feel the vials
safely nestled in his pocket, burning against him.
Of course, the liquid within them is entirely cool, but for
some reason, just knowing it is there makes his skin tingle and
burn. It was interesting, the tricks
one's mind plays during times of high stress and fatigue.
Depleted was the word Severus ascribed to himself at that
moment. His days were spent in the
hospital, reading and monitoring Hermione's vitals, tracking what
little brain functionality he could through the haze of her
unintentional occluding. His nights had been spent
researching and brewing numerous attempts, many of which yielded
nothing but disappointment. As he stands from the bench,
pockets feeling impossibly heavy, he disposes of his empty
coffee cup and cigarette butt in an obliging receptacle.
As he continues on his way to the hospital on Hermione's
floor, he isn't remotely surprised to find Padma already
in her room, running her vitals and going over everything
necessary before embarking on their experiment.
Good morning. He murmurs as he walks into the
room. Padma offers him a nervous
smile. Good morning.
She is anxious, he can tell they both are, as the negative
outcome from using an experimental treatment on her
would destroy them both. Her job, after all, is on the
line should something go wrong with her patient, and Severus
isn't so sure life would be worth living if there was no
hope for Hermione to come out of her coma.
His own nerves caused him to run the calculations within an inch
of madness, and he hopes that is enough.
Producing the potion from his pockets, he also places a small
satchel on the trolley Padma has wheeled into the room for his
use. What's that?
She asks, eyeing the bag. Severus flicks open the clasp
holding it shut and several long, silvery white strands come
into view. Her eyes widen and she places a
clipboard she is holding down so that she can inspect it
properly. Unicorn tail hair?
Padma questions. What's it for?
The potion is only part of what is needed in order to
breakthrough Hermione Shields. The Unicorn hair will act as
both a tether and conduit which will deliver me directly past
her walls. At least that is my hope.
He replies. I will submerge the hairs into
the potion and attach one end of the line to us both before I
attempt to penetrate her mind. Padma's gaze becomes 1 of
amazement. I had no idea you could deliver
a portion that way. It is unconventional but
effective, especially in this instance, he tells her.
We cannot risk my becoming trapped by the same mechanism
which holds Hermione and losing the ability to return.
So it is as much of an importance to me as it is for
her. At her nod of understanding,
Severus continues to explain. The base of the potion was
created with Sea Lavender, which is generally more commonly used
in herbal sleep concoctions for more lucid or controlled
dreaming. He pauses while Padma scribbles
down notes as he speaks. There is also Mandrake extract,
which, as you are aware, is used to restore petrified victims to
consciousness, powdered striezer spikes for their defensive
properties and ginger root to help with relaxing the mental
barriers, and Scurvy grass for its usefulness in treating the
lethargy, fatigue, and pseudo paralysis to bolster it.
Padma appears a little overwhelmed when he finishes
speaking, and he can't help the small smirk that lifts the
corners of his mouth. His hard work, he hopes, will
pay off, but the proof would be in the pudding.
All right, well, I understood about half of that.
She admits, somewhat sheepish. My strengths have always lied in
the treatment of patients, not the chemistry behind it.
But don't misunderstand me. And I was always competent with
the following instructions in class.
But my creative capabilities is in casting and creation of
healing spells rather than potions.
Severus smirks. He is all too aware of the
Healer's shortcomings, but it has no bearing on her
competency. Worry not, he le Patil.
He says her title in jest. I am more than capable, you'll
find. She laughs, but it is a nervous
one. They really should just get it
over with. So she begins, and he nods.
Let's begin. His chair is pushed up close to
the bed so that he is able to sit close to Hermione while they
complete the necessary attachment of the potion
drenched Unicorn hairs. Padme uses her wand to levitate
the hairs carefully as Severus uses his to loop and bind the
cord around his wrist as she does the same to Hermione's.
They lock eyes and she offers him a bolstering smile before he
shifts so that he can look directly at Hermione's face.
Bear in mind, I have no idea how long this potion will last, so
make note of the time so that we will be able to account for it
in future. He tells her.
I will take care. She tells him before stepping
out of the way, picking up her clipboard folder to make
observations while he prepares to cast.
Severus can feel his skin prickling with the amount of
anxiety coursing through him, his fear over this being the
wrong solution surfacing to rear its ugly head.
Closing his eyes, he swallows thickly, fighting back the
nerves. All of his research indicates
that this will work. Taking a deep breath, Severus
opens his eyes to say the spell that will tell him whether or
not his hard work was all for naughty legitiments.
A blink. Everything slowly comes into
focus. This is not how it ordinarily
feels when he casts the Gillymans on a subject.
Severus continues to blink, realizing that it is dark where
he is and he is lying in a bed. He is not the only one in the
bed either. A warm, soft form presses
against his side and he freezes, unwilling to shift in case he
disrupts them. Turning his head just enough to
use his peripheral vision with great ease, he catches sight of
a wealth of curly brown hair that is shining in the moonlight
streaming through the window. He lifts his left arm up to
examine his wrist and sees that the tether isn't there.
It is clear to him that this is not reality, rather not his
reality. Huffing a quiet sigh, he stares
at the ceiling of the room he is in, wondering what the time is
in this place. Very carefully, he inches out of
the bed and stands so that he can stare down at the slumbering
form of the curly haired witch whose mind he is invading.
She looks so peaceful, a slight smile pursing her lips.
He feels his heart lurch in his chest.
It has been far too long since he has seen her smile properly.
Severus wrenches himself out of his silent musings to poke
around what he discovers is a small flat.
He finds a glass and fills it with water in the kitchen.
According to a clock on the mantle of the small fireplace in
the sitting room, it's just after 3:00 in the morning and he
realises it will be some time before she will awaken.
Curiously, he looks around and notices that there are traces of
two people who clearly share a life in this little flat.
He and Hermione are in some kind of relationship.
He feels no elation because it is clear to him that this
dreamlike state is an obvious fiction, something her mind has
conjured for some reason or another.
When she wakes, he anticipates he will need to extract more
information from her to ascertain if the dream is part
of the curse or something her own mind has conjured for some
reason. He wanders over to the clear
entry point of the flat and is surprised when he tries to open
the door that it will not budget for him.
Curious, he thinks as he wanders back to the sofa and takes a
seat. He doesn't feel right climbing
into bed with Hermione. It would be a violation of sorts
as he is not the Severus of this dream.
He settles comfortably and picks up a book he finds on the coffee
table. 100 years of solitude, an interesting choice and 1.
He files away for further examination later.
He flips the book open and begins to read, but soon finds
his eyes becoming heavy as he is dragged down into sleep.
When he wakes, it is because a hand is pressed into his
shoulder, giving it a slight shake.
He gasps and jolts up, his spine becoming ramrod straight as he
whips his head around to see who was woken him.
He sees a concerned Hermione wearing an oversized T-shirt,
biting her bottom lip in that way he misses desperately.
The book he had been perusing earlier is open, paged down on
his chest where it must have come to rest when he fell
asleep. A glance at the clock tells him
it is now 5:00. Why are you out here?
She asks sleepily. I came out for a glass of water,
Came his excuse. I sat down and must have dozed
off. She smiles at him, and Merlin,
what he would do to see that smile again in reality.
Come to bed. I don't have to be up to get
ready for work for another two hours yet.
Her gentle prodding makes it easy for him to cast aside his
earlier hesitance, though he still feels guilt eat away at
him. She tugs him to stand and leads
him the way back, but he knows now is their bedroom.
As they slide into bed beside one another, he catches the
sight of another book on the night stand and has to school
his face to neutral to prevent her from seeing his
astonishment. Wuthering Heights.
He cannot believe it is a coincidence that the book he had
been reading her is the very one beside her bed in this room.
Soon Severus is on his back and her curly head of hair is
resting on his shoulder while she cuddles up to him in the
middle of the bed. Pain mixed with pleasure is
gnawing away in his gut, and it takes all of his self-control
not to tremble. Her lips touch his collarbone in
a gentle kiss and he inhales, catching a whiff of her hair.
Even in this dream world, she smells the same as he remembers.
Hermione's breath evens out as she falls asleep once more.
In Severus wishes with all of his might that this dream was
real, that he would awaken to reality and find that she has
returned to herself. That wishful thinking is
dangerous. However, there are no guarantees
in the real world that Hermione would be interested in him
romantically. She was just comfortable with
him. They had been associates, after
all. They had lived and worked
together to see out the end of the war.
Why wouldn't her mind think to conjure him?
As he stares at the ceiling in silence, he realises there is a
phantom tugging at his wrist. Apparently the potion is
beginning to wear off and his time there is at an end.
Severus closes his eyes and when he reopens them, he sucks in a
deep breath as he takes in his surroundings.
He has returned to his vigilant Hermione's bedside, wand gripped
tightly in his right hand. Hermione's held tightly in the
left. The Unicorn hair wrapped around
their wrists is still there, but there is no potion left on it,
and the silvery strands have lost some of their lustre.
How are you, Severus? Padma's voice cuts through the
silence permeating the room. Severus glances up at her to see
worriers creasing her brow. I'm fine.
He chokes out, but he is far from it.
Inside there is a chasm, a great gaping wound that is devoid of
all, torn open from seeing Hermione alive and well and
happy in her mind, with some facsimile of him, there is
nothing but brutal, crushing ache.
She is there, but she is locked away from him in there, and he
feels the weight of that task anew.
What if he is able to find a way to bring her back?
The Severus. He realises he's been silent for
too long and hastily erects his own occlemency Shields, slamming
them down on his emotions. I'm fine.
He grinds out through clenched teeth.
How long was I in there? Not long at all.
She answers, still gazing at him with worry.
In 20 minutes? Approximately 2 hours passed
while I was in there. He informs her, and she notes it
down immediately. And Hermione.
Padma presses. She is there.
Severus tells her. Padma's expression of relief is
entirely at odds with how Severus felt upon disengaging
from her, but he knows it will not be the last time and
resolves to get his arrant feelings under control so that
he can see this through. He has no idea how he is going
to get through it and remain intact.
What he does know is how uncomfortable he is with the
prospect of pretending to be the Severus conjured by Hermione's
mind.