The Funeral Portrait by the French Press, Chapter 4 The
rhythmic drip of the IV is the only sound that fills the
sterile white room. His throat feels a little hoarse
after reading. He continues to do so every day,
especially now that he suspects the book He reads to the
unconscious woman in the bed before him and reaching her in
the dream state in which she is locked.
Shutting the book, he places it off to the side and stands,
stretching out his back. His posture of late has been
atrocious, and he is paying for it.
The atrocious hospital chairs are the culprit, he imagines.
He leaves the room, sparing a glance back at Hermione's supine
form. It is the same as always.
Her eyes remain closed, her body still save for the subtle
movements of her chest as she breathes.
At least she still breathes on her own, he reminds himself.
Things could be a lot worse. Severus wanders up to the tea
room to take a break before Padma arrives for her late shift
that afternoon. Then they could begin with their
next attempt at probing Hermione's mind.
As he sips at the hot tea, he stares out the usually grimy
window in the far corner. As usual, there are stray cats
chasing one another through the alleyway, though this time one
of them appears to have snatched something that had come loose
from medical waste. He frowns and makes a note to
mention it to whoever managed the custodial services.
The last thing the hospital needs is a medical waste
scandal. Once the cup is drained, he
tosses it into the wastebasket on his way out of the room.
The majority of the staff know better than to approach or try
to speak to him by now, so he makes his way out and back down
to Hermione's floor, undisrupted.
As he meanders through the halls, his mind turns to the
task he has to perform that day. He isn't thrilled.
Hermione's dream conjuring of him makes him anxious and he is
concerned he will not be able to perform the role of the Severus
that her mind has concocted. He most certainly is not that
same man. It feels wrong to him playing a
part. He'd thought he was long past
the days of spying and having to act in a way that is apart from
his true self, but there is some reassurance that whatever it was
she was going through, Hermione found comfort in using him to
shield her from whatever malicious thing lurked beneath.
By the time he reaches the healer station, Padma is there
waiting for him. Hello, Severus.
She greets, Her eyes are alert and she appears more chipper
than she has of late. Padma.
He replies. His voice is gravelly and tired.
He hasn't slept well and he is truly feeling it that day.
Ready to get started? She asks, leading the way to
Hermione's room. He's prepared, but not ready per
SE, though he does not express this sentiment to the healer
beside him. Yes.
Inside the room, Padma weighs her wand and the trolley moves
from the corner to sit closer to the bed.
Severus fishes around in his pockets and produces the vials
with the potion and the Unicorn hair tether.
I adjusted the potion slightly to account for the duration.
I believe it will be more useful if I can remain under for a
while longer than last time. He explains.
Padma nods firmly. Sounds like a good plan, Are you
ready to take notes? He asks her as he settles into
the chair beside the bed. As ever, she brandishes a pen
and lifts her clipboard to observe remaining standing in
case she is needed for any reason.
He uncorks the vials and tips the potion into a disposable
bowl, submerges the Unicorn hair and then with care, loops it
around both of his and Hermione's wrists.
This time his hand clutches hers.
He should feel more self-conscious about it with
Padma in the room, but for some reason he feels perfectly
comfortable. Perhaps a side effect of them
working closely together on this.
Shaking his head, he focuses his attention entirely on the woman
lying on the bed before him, and with a clear voice, casts
Legitimans. Being sucked into her dream
feels like being dragged underwater, he realises.
Not quite like drowning, but there is a pressure around him
and a sound vacuum where he is certain a scream would be lost
if anyone were to ever emit one. Everything is dark and
uncomfortable until he blinks and suddenly he is standing in
the kitchen of the flat in which they live in the dreamscape.
The kettle is whistling loudly on the hob and he lifts it off
the flame, switching it off before he looks around the
kitchen counter. He spies A teapot and realises
his counterpart must have been brewing tea.
When he looks inside the prepared leaves, he smiles for a
moment when he notes that they are Darjeeling, his favorite.
Hermione's attention to detail continues to astound him even in
this place. He finishes brewing the tea the
way he recalls her taking it, hopeful that the Hermione in the
dream has similar tastes to the one he is so familiar with.
It is then that Severus realises something poignant he missed in
his previous visit. This kitchen is identical to the
one from their safe house. As he hunts around for some
mugs, he realises everything is stored in the same place as they
were in the space they shared for so long.
He takes the opportunity to go through all of the cupboards and
drawers and realisation fills him with surprise.
Was this similarity a reflection of something?
He ponders. His mind is immediately drawn to
wondering if there are other parts of the flat that are the
same and resolves to explore this.
Is the tea ready? He hears her voice call out from
outside the kitchen. Hearing her even in this manner
is a relief that settles the roiling in his gut.
Yes. He forces himself to reply.
I'll be 1 moment. He hastily shuts the drawer he'd
been investigating and takes the two mugs of tea with him out to
the sitting room, where she is curled upon the sofa with her
legs tucked beneath a throw over her lap.
She has her curls piled atop her head and she is scribbling away
on some sheaths of parchment she has resting on the top of a
large book she is supporting curiously.
He peers over her shoulder at what she is working on and isn't
surprised at all to see her working on some arithmetic
calculations. Explains the size of the text
she is referencing. He thinks with a smirk.
Your tea, my Liege. He draws as he comes around the
sofa to sit beside her. He's called her this in the
past, their real past when they were trapped living together in
the safe house. She smiles as she accepts the
steaming mug and it appears he has managed to get away with it.
Thank you. She sighs after swallowing her
first sip. Perfect, as usual.
Severus settles against the back of the sofa and gazes at her.
His chest feels unusually tight. Well, not so unusual, he
supposes. These feelings are all too
familiar to him in the real world.
They would set in all the time when she was first taken to
Saint Mungo's, and he still had a naive hope that she would wake
on her own when she was ready. It comes less often now, but it
is no less painful, especially with the advances he and Padma
have made. We're trying to discover a cure
for her. Having hope is like inviting
Payne to come and settle inside his chest.
She must notice he is staring, for she looks up from what she
is working on with a quizzical expression.
What's wrong? He shakes his head.
Nothing. He answers and schools his face
to something more neutral. Watching your mind at work is
fascinating. It's not exactly a lie.
That he is sitting there in this elaborately constructed dream is
testament to that statement, however, misery inducing, he is
both fascinated and distressed by it.
She doesn't seem convinced, but her shoulders sag and it appears
she is prepared to let it drop. A moment later, she curses
softly under her breath. Damn out of ink.
He stands immediately and holds up a hand to halt her.
I'll fetch you something. Severus makes his way to the
small office and locates a little pot of Incanquel.
He carries them back to the sitting room and places them in
front of her. Her brow creases for a moment
before she smiles up at him. Thank you.
She intends. You're welcome.
He says. He has no idea if anything he is
doing is right, but her responses to his attentiveness
are positive. It makes him wonder if the
Severus her mind has conjured is there to serve the purpose of
protector and nurturer, as if her mind is trying to tell her
what she needs. I'm getting a bit sleepy, she
says a little while later, stifling A yawn with a hand over
her mouth. Kingsley has been riding me at
work this week. The Ministry uses you.
He says. It sounds like the right
sentiment to voice, and her small smile and nod confirms
this. She is disenchanted with her
work, he realises. He wonders what it is she does
for Kingsley, but is sure that will come up at some point.
I know, but it's just so hard to say no.
She defends weakly. Severus reaches her hand up to
her face and grazes the backs of his fingers over her smooth chic
on instinct, and is gratified when she leans into his touch.
He has no idea where the compulsion came from, but soon
her hands are clutching it and the warmth of her soft lips
press into his palm. His skin burns from the contact
and his heart leaps up into his throat, practically crushing his
windpipe. Touching her had been a mistake,
but he knows that had he not, it would have alarmed her more.
When she releases his hand, he finally sucks air greedily into
his lungs and they resume their silence, sipping tea while she
scribbles away. As her eyes begin to droop.
He removes the book from her in spite of her protests and sets
it aside. Severus leads her to the bedroom
and tucks her into bed, where she yawns and falls asleep
almost instantly before he returns to tidy up the sitting
room and contemplate what he should do while she sleeps.
He pokes around the flat for a while, going to the door and
finding it locked. Unsurprisingly, after trying
Aloha Mora without success, he steps back in, hums quietly.
He'd suspected that the dream Severus was being kept there by
her, and his inability to leave through the front door confirms
it. It isn't long before Severus
begins to feel exhausted. Being tethered to her while
performing Legilimency is tiring.
He knows that if she wakes, she'll wonder where he is were
he to sleep out on the sofa. So he moves with some reluctance
to the bedroom and climbs in bed beside her.
His last thought as he begins to doze is that he needs to take an
invigoration draft before he returns to the dream again.
Hermione stares off into the flames burning low in the
fireplace. She knows she could just
levitate some new logs onto it and stoke it, but finds herself
reluctant to do so. It's cold, but for some reason
it is more important for her to confirm her suspicions than be
warm at that moment. So she waits, biting on her lip
as she listens to the sound of her companion as he washes the
dishes in the kitchen. There is an ache in her gut, a
gnawing she can't ignore. It started with the smallest of
things, something so innocuous that she'd easily shrugged it
off. A week earlier, he'd brought her
a quill and ink to use when her Biro had run dry.
Though a quill was a perfectly acceptable writing implement,
she thought that Severus knew her preference.
After that it was just the little things here and there,
the way he no longer casts 1 less non verbal spells around
the flat for cleaning, the way he takes his tea.
The new habit of falling asleep after her instead of curling
around her after he read to her at night.
She thought initially she was being paranoid, but something
was off. Briefly, she thought perhaps he
was growing tired of her, but he was as affectionate as ever,
though it had been over a week since the last time they'd made
love. He enters the room moments later
and she waits for him to make his next move.
She isn't surprised when he whips out his wand and levitates
some logs onto the fire wordlessly.
Severus never used to use his wand for this.
When he joins her on the sofa, Hermione reminds herself to
smile at him, and as soon as he is comfortable, she makes her
move. She is straddling his lap in
seconds and takes in the look of puzzlement and surprise,
flitting through his dark eyes as her hands delve into his
dark, silky tresses. Hello.
She says with a smile. Hello.
He replies quietly, though he looks decidedly uncertain.
This is also uncharacteristic of him.
She kisses him then, sliding her tongue past his lips, teasing
him, trying to draw some passion out of the man.
His lips are frozen for a moment, hands hanging uselessly
at his sides as she attacks his mouth with a vigor.
This response makes her feel a little queasy, so she breaks the
kiss and tries to pull away. Sorry, she mutters under her
breath. He stops her and she turns to
face him. Don't apologise.
He tells her gently. I am just tired from my day and
you took me by surprise, is all. She wants to argue with him, but
his mouth covers hers and silences anything she might
think to say. Their tongs mate and slide
tantalizingly against one another.
Impatient, Hermione Yanks her jumper up and off, casting it
aside before her fingers seek out the buttons of his shirt.
His dark eyes are wide and dilated and she feels it like a
bolt of lightning straight to her abdomen.
It isn't long before they are both unclothed and she is
sinking down onto him, sighing in a relief as he fills her.
Merlin, she had no idea how much she needs to feel this right
now. Their movements are so In Sync
she feels the knot of anxiety that had been in her stomach for
days disappear as she simply allows herself to feel.
His hands are everywhere, roaming over every inch of her
flesh as he murmurs her name softly, and soon she is coming
apart and chanting his in rapturous release.
Afterwards, he presses the tip of his wand to her abdomen to
cleanse them and then restore her clothing.
A feeling of dread has settled into her stomach once more, for
although this moment was a beautiful escape, she cannot put
her finger on what has changed about him.
All she does know is that he has changed somehow.
Later, when they are in bed beside one another, she watches
him as he reads. From the tone they've been
working through, he looks like her, Severus, and he certainly
feels and sounds like him. But there is something that
still bothers her as she falls asleep with the wizard beside
her. Hermione vaguely wonders what it
could be and how she is going to work out what has her so
bothered. Severus resurfaces from the
dream with a sharp inhalation of breath.
He cannot fucking believe what he has done.
He feels nauseous, like he could be sick at any moment.
Dropping Hermione's hand as if burned, he Yanks the tether off
and launches himself out of the chair and across the room.
It is then that he remembers he is not alone and turns to face a
concerned Padma. What happened?
She asks, approaching him with caution.
He holds up a hand to stay her. Merlin, he can hardly fathom his
own stupidity, let alone put it into words.
Violating a sick woman in her mind, he is repulsed by his own
actions. He should have put a stop to
hit, but being that way with her, hell, in the past he would
have given anything to be with her as he was in the dream.
He should be focused on restoring her.
But he is a damned fool. Severus, you're scaring me.
Padma says in his continuing silence.
His eyes dart up to her face, but his brows remain furrowed in
anguish. He wants to go back in time.
Hermione deserves better than a man who would take advantage of
her in such a situation. No matter the role.
He was assuming it matters not. He growls, feeling an immediate
pang of regret when the younger woman flinches at his tone.
Well, what can you tell me? She asks.
It is clear that she is trying to distract him and he is
grateful. She is growing suspicious.
He says, his shoulders sagging somewhat.
He can tell Hermione has been testing him, but he has no idea
what she expects from him. Part of the reason he
capitulated and got caught up in making love with her in the
dream was that he was certain she'd be suspicious by a
refusal. He still feels he should have
found another way though. That's not good.
Pad Masais looking thoughtful. I am not able to predict the
exact actions of my dream counterpart and the more I delve
into her mind, the more suspicious she becomes.
Severus smutters. Maybe it is time for you to drop
the rules before her mind tries to protect her from you and you
get booted out of her head entirely.
She suggests. Severus knows she is right and
nods. Next time my will.
He agrees it is too hard to keep up the charade and after this
unfortunate incident he is disinclined to continue lying to
her. I will conceive of a way to
break the news gently to her when we try again in the few
days. Padma opens her mouth to reply
but it is lost when they hear 2 voices approaching the room when
Ronald Weasley's face appears on the other side of the glass
accompanied by one of the healers he was unfamiliar with.
The red headed wizard appears disgruntled to see him and
Severus can relate. The last thing they needed was
for the hot head to go shooting off his mouth about him being
there. What are you doing here?
Weasley demands as he walks into the room.
What do you think? Severus sneers back.
The wizard looks over the bed and spots the tether around
Hermione's wrist, the trolley, and Severus his abandoned chair.
It looks like you're up to your old trick, Snape.
What tricks are those? He'd rolls, already bored with
the conversation. Weasley is a narrow minded fool.
You better not be trying anything funny with Hermione or
I'll. What?
Severus interrupts. Or what?
Weasley have me carted off by the auras.
I am doing nothing illegal or immoral.
What charge can you possibly lay down?
Do you really think you have any right?
More right than you. Weasley argues arrogantly.
Hermione is my friend. Some friend?
He snaps as his fury rises. You've not been here to visit in
over a month. You know, it's really creepy to
stalk people's Snape. Stop it.
Padme interrupts, cutting Severus off as he is angrily
working up to hurl more vitriol at the young wizard.
She casts a look of disappointment at Weasley, who
at least has the decency to look chastened.
Ron, Severus is here, working with me towards a treatment or
cure for Hermione's condition. He has every right to be here.
Her defence warms him and all the anger he is feeling deflates
in his chest like an old tire. It doesn't matter.
He needs to get out of the situation and as far from
Weasley as humanly possible before he does or says something
stupid. Turning to Padma, Severus gives
her a look that he hopes conveys how much he needs to leave.
She seems to understand and nods in the direction of the doorway.
Wordlessly, Severus sweeps out of the room, barely brushing
against Weasley and the other healer as he passes.
His chest feels like there is a heavyweight upon it, crushing
the air out of him and making him feel light headed.
Once outside, as close as he dares to be when lighting up, he
jams a cigarette into his mouth and uses the muggle lighter in
his pocket to spark the end of it, sucking in the smoke
anxiously. He is not built for
confrontations such as those, and regrets that he was caught
out there by the most unreliable of Hermione's friends.
He doesn't understand what she sees in the volatile young
wizard. Exhaling A shaky breath, he bee
lines towards the park so he can apparate home and drown the
foreboding feeling in his stomach with an old bottle of
whisky he knows is stashed somewhere.