Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

_Look at me._

_Potters green eyes fading. Liquid, warm and wet, trickling down his neck, from his eyes, from his nose. The shuffle of footsteps and murmured voices. Far away the battle rumbled. And then silence._

_Strangely, there was no pain. Time stood at a standstill, the moments between one breath and his last encompassed an eternity. _

_I wish…I wish…_

_Lily's hard emerald eyes the last time he had met them. Cradling her body in the wreckage of Godric's Hollow._

_His life on the edge of a knife, never belonging anywhere, to anyone. What would it be like, he wondered in the space between one breath and his last—this one moment that went on forever—what would it be like to be a normal man? To have a normal life, working a normal job. To come home to a family. Be part of family. He'd been alone so many years…_

_Regrets came to him now. Regret that he had done so little with his life. Ten years of peace wasted on grief and self-pity and anger. Ten years of bitterness. Ten years of emptiness that could have been filled with…what? Love?_

_I wish…I wish…_

_Just for a moment, this long endless moment, he allowed himself to imagine a reality in which he had changed himself at the Dark Lord's first fall. He imagined himself joining his colleagues at their weekly meeting at the Hog's Head, meetings mostly filled with good food and drink and laughter and companionship. He had never allowed himself to attend, certain he was not truly wanted but what if, just…once…he had gone? Could he have teased Minerva into peals of laughter with a quick sly comment? Perhaps discussed herbology with Pomona—herbology so closely linked with Potions—_

_Potions. He could have published his experiments, continued to create new spells. Again he imagined what it would be like to share his life with another, to confide his secrets, to be comforted, to just once! Be told that everything would be all right, that there were no Dark Lords, no Headmasters and nothing could hurt him anymore._

_From far away he heard the sound of battle once more, cries of anguish and triumph echoing in the dark night. The sound of spell fire and struggle. Silence. Silence. Silence._

_For an eternity, silence…and then…._

_Cheers erupting everywhere, like that Quidditch Cup at the end of the year, cheers like children being told that exams had been cancelled._

_It's all over, the man thought. Everything. Even me. _

_Time resumed its forward course, and the man exhaled._

_And…inhaled? _

Pain exploded in every cell. He was acutely aware of his neck, jaw and ear, specifically that there seemed to be great gaping wholes where that part of his anatomy should be. His body felt as though it was made of stone, hard and heavy stone that could crumble to dust at any second. Dimly, he heard his heartbeat in his remaining ear and the slow swooshing sound did not inspire confidence in his well being.

_Eyes. He had eyes._

He focused all his attention on his eyelids until he cracked one open. Above his head the ceiling of the Great Hall showed a clear blue sky. Sunbeams illuminated the dust in the air. He couldn't move, but only stare in something like wonder at the dust motes floating gently in the sun, drifting….

A gentle touch on his forehead brought back his awareness somewhat. _I wish…I wish… family…home…love…_

With extreme effort he managed to glimpse the person…cradling him? Sunlight backlit her hair, giving her a golden halo. Her eyes were kind. Tears left visible tracks in the dirt and blood on her face. Her face was gaunt and purple shadows stood out under her eyes. He realized that one of her hands was pressed into the left side of his neck, holding painful pressure into the deep wound.

He closed his eyes, and felt the brush of lips against his hair. A whisper brushed his cheek. _You'resafeyou'resafeyou'reokayyoou'reokay everythings gonna be okay, everythhing's gonna be all right, you're safe, you're safe…._

Safe? He could hardly imagine. Safe. Warm arms around him, warmth behind his back and every so often a feather light touch on his cheek.

Comforted, he slipped into sleep –_coma—_and dreamed.


	2. Chapter 2

In movies, after the climactic finish in which the hero defeats the villain (and gets the girl, sometime at the same time) the credits roll. No mention is ever made of things like cleaning up the bloodstains on the flagstones of the Great Hall, or doing something with all the bodies -and _parts _of bodies- littered around the grounds. In the movies the two faced spy is good enough to die properly, cleanly and thus be remembered fondly at the yearly graveside service. In the movies, the teenaged heroes and heroines all live happily ever after, having skipped all that messy clean up after the carnage of war.

The truth is that the war isn't just over when the villain is defeated. Everything that led up to the villains reign of terror still had to be dealt with. The truth is that even though all manner of things needed to be dealt with, just getting through the rest of that first horrible day is sometimes all a heroine could do.

Hermione wandered across the grounds. Her feet couldn't seem to stop moving. She walked aimlessly, numbly until she found herself in front of the remains of the whomping willow. The trunk of the great tree had been shattered and limbs lay scattered and still smoking all around. The tunnel entrance lay wide open. Anyone could enter.

She hunched down and entered the tunnel. She emerged into the Shrieking Shack stumbled. She reached down to find the offending item and jumped back immediately, badly frightened. She had tripped over Severus Snape's foot. "_Lumos," _ she whispered.

Poor Snape. Everything he'd been through to die with his throat torn out by the beast of a madman. Hesitating, she slowly drew closer. His eyes were closed, his face pale and still. Strange, she thought, he doesn't look like a..a _body. He still just looks like himself. _Deep lines etched his face. Speckles of blood polka-dotted the maroon shadows under his eyes. Hermione felt giggles coming on abruptly. _But his hair looks fantastic! _The voice in her head sounded like Rita Skeeter.

She gathered her courage and slid her hand into his slack one. "I'm sorry, Sir," she said.

Severus Snape exhaled. And Hermione Granger, heroine, blazed into action.

With a thought she sent a patronus to Harry. _Shrieking shack, Snape, help now! _She dropped to her knees and slid behind him holding her hand firmly against the remains of his neck. Seconds passed, and time stretched out so that an eternity seemed to pass between breaths. She smelled the metallic tang of the blood on the floor, on her hands. She smelled the earth. She smelled her own body and her filthy clothes and realized she could no longer remember the last time she'd had enough to eat or had a shower.

Thunder erupted all around her and the door flew off its hinges and struck the opposing wall in a hurricane of dust. Harry and Ron had arrived. They took in the scene of Hermione cradling the body, cradling _Snape._

"Bloody hell, Mione, I thought you were in trouble here." Ron exclaimed.

Harry knelt down next to her. "Is he even alive?" His green eyes were troubled. "How can he possibly have…?"

Ridiculous laughter bubbled out of her. "I have no idea, Harry, but he just was breathing a second ago! Slowly, and _I don't know how much longer he can do it!" _ She took some deep gasping breaths attempting to stay calm. "Levitate the both of us and take us to the castle."

The boys obediently brandished them aloft and—much more carefully than she expected—guided them through the tunnel.

"Ron can you hold them by yourself for a sec. I think we're gonna need some back up here."

"Got it," Ron told him, concentrating fiercely.

"_Expecto Patronum,_" Harry incanted, and his silver stag leaped out of his wand. "Find someone to help us save the Professor," he told it. "Okay guys, let's go."

"We need to hurry, Harry!"

"I know Hermione, but we don't want to just pop down there with Snape. We need to make sure we have a person to watch our backs. I think all of the giants went down, but hell if I know for sure. I know the Malfoys disappeared but there could be other Death Eaters still around. And I will be damned if I get killed on the way back to the castle."

"Can you imagine how brassed off my Mum would be?" Ron cracked a smile that faded almost instantly. Hermione could see the moment he realized what he'd just said. _Fred._

They emerged into the bright morning sunlight blinking until a shadow fell over them. Help had arrived.


	3. Chapter 3

Murmuring voices in the background of his mind. Shadows and light. The sound of breathing in his ear. Why did he have only one ear? Hands. He had hands. Left hand, right hand. _Move dammit! _ Sluggishly, his left hand groped at his neck and flinched away as a shaft of silver-bright pain lanced through him. Carefully, carefully he felt for his head. Hair, yes, _there's the hair—_aha! There was his other ear, yes still attached, but not functional.

A foreign hand clasped his questing fingers and he flinched violently, almost falling out the other side of the—_bed, I'm in a bed—_bed. More one sided murmurs he could nearly make out. Soft tones of a woman trying to soothe him. Sounded something like his mother humming while she did the dishes after supper. Humming and looking out the window. Before all the work dried up. Before empty bottles of whiskey became frequent visitors.

He recognized the tones as something you might use to calm a wild and frightened animal. Was that what he was? No, in spite of everything he was still a man. Even though he hadn't felt like a man in years. Since—

He felt rather than heard someone approach. The soothing someone held his hand tight between her own. _–okay. Everything is okay, I'm right here, you're not alone— _Surely this must be a dream. Nobody he could think of would hold his hand and murmur softly at him. An idea struck him suddenly. Why, he must be dead. Dumbledore hadn't expected him to live, the Dark Lord had clearly killed him, and Potter—his forehead creased. Wasn't Potter alive?

Persistent aching at the back of his head informed him that thinking was not without punishment. He remembered…something. _Silence. Silence. Silence. Cheers like a Quidditch match. Celebration. _Surely if Potter was dead there would be no cheers? Death Eaters did not cheer; therefore Potter was alive.

If Potter was alive, Severus Snape was _certainly _dead. A simple if-than equation. And—since he was dead—he might as well enjoy holding a woman's hand. Whose hand? With effort he cracked his eyes open.

A familiar looking woman awaited him. She of the gaunt cheekbones. She who looked—_cleaner!_—exhausted and hungry. And familiar. Who was this girl? And why was his memory so…so squiffy?

With effort he blinked trying to clear his eyes. Hmm, Seems he remembered having better vision than this blurriness and doubling. He tried to talk, but no sound at all escaped him. He reached for his throat with his free hand but the woman caught it easily. Leaning over him, he found that he could peer straight down her gaping shirt. How he wanted to clear his throat and say something cutting.

The familiar woman smiled at him.

He closed his eyes and stopped trying to feel his neck. His hands stayed obediently at his sides.

"I think I like you much better when you can't talk, Sir," the woman said. 'If I let go of you will you stop trying to tear your bandages off?"

Stung by the accusation, his eyes flew open again and he glared balefully. He tilted his head to the side, peering at his lonely hand on the bed, before raising his eyes to meet hers.

"Can you squeeze my hand, Sir? Ooh, very good! Now the other…wonderful." Her voice sounded amused. "Do you know who you are, Sir?"

_No, I have no fucking idea, woman. _He nodded cautiously.

"Do you, ah, know who _I _am, Sir?"

_Yes, of course, you daft thing! You are the woman from the Great Hall. _Images—shafts of sunlight, a halo of hair, and kind, kind eyes—flashed through his mind. Again, he nodded cautiously.

It was the right thing to say. Her eyes lit up. "And do you know where you are, Sir?"

_Some sort of hospital? St Mungos? _Slowly, so slowly, he shook his head.

"Oh, I am so sorry, Sir! I should have said straight away. You're in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Madame Pomfrey's been working very hard to keep you on the mend."

He wanted to ask where Dumbledore was. He wanted to ask this young woman just exactly who she was, and why was she at his bedside. He wanted to know what fucking _day _it was. Something of this must have shown in his face because she looked skeptical.

"Are you _sure _you know who I am, Sir?"

He hesitated. _Yes. This was definitely the same woman from the Great Hall. _He nodded. What was another white lie in the grand scheme of things? Besides, it couldn't possibly matter that much. She was clearly too old to be a Hogwarts student, although she could definitely do with a few good meals. But her eyes. Her eyes looked like an old woman's.

Snape sighed and closed his eyes. He imagined his eyes looked as ancient when he was that age. He let the woman pick up his hand again. Then dreams took him.


	4. Chapter 4

The infirmary at night was a surprisingly busy place. The lights were dimmed for night time, but bright enough that patients waking from nightmares could see their surroundings. Screens separated the beds that were crammed much closes than usual to make more room for the wounded. In later years, Hermione would smell the antiseptic and be instantly transported back to this moment—Tired, hungry, scared. A never-ending lump in her stomach and ache at her temples.

Severus Snape had the bed at the far corner of the Infirmary, directly next to Pomfrey's office. He had two screens instead of one, which afforded him the most privacy of all the patients. Hermione had erected her usual wards around his corner; mostly out of habit, but also because her anxiety had grown almost out of control at the thought of being so exposed and unprotected.

"How is he doing?" Harry asked. _He, _of course could recognize and walk through her wards. Their time spent _camping _had given them all a somewhat more intimate relationship with each other's magic. Since she and Harry had those extra months after Ron had gone, well. She could feel Harry's magic quite easily, and her barriers were nothing more than a warm tingle for Harry.

Hermione let go of Snape's hand and leaned back in the chair, stretching her arms up and rolling her neck backwards. She felt like an old woman; stiff everywhere. All the muscles in her back and shoulders protested with each movement. A few hours ago she had tried to recall the last time she had bathed, and couldn't remember. She briefly tried to recall the last time she hadn't been in some sort of pain. Before the fiasco at Malfoy Manor, certainly. _Oh my God, _she thought. _The wedding. Bill and Fleur's wedding last summer. _She wanted to weep with exhaustion.

"Hermione?" He sounded concerned, and Hermione twisted to peer up at him. A wry smile crossed her face. Poor Harry. Here, she knew, was the one person in the world who understood exactly what she'd been through. What they'd been through. Best friend, always.

"Harry," she said on a sob and threw herself in his arms.

"What—are you okay?" Such a _boy. _He held her tightly, burying his face in her hair.

She sniffed and scrubbed at her eyes. "Harry. I love you so _much_ and it just hit me that you were _dead. _What if you—"

Harry laughed a little, and gave her a final tight squeeze before setting her back at arms length. His eyes brimmed, the lashes spiky with unshed tears. "Hey. I'm okay. I'm _here. _Hermione, we _did _it. _We did it._"

"I know and I just…I thought I'd be _happy, _buteverything is broken! So many people are just—_gone! _Fred, Remus, Tonks—" She stopped at the shattered look on his face. Took a deep breath. Then another. "The castle is ruined. And my parents…" Now she broke down in earnest. "Mum and Daddy are gone, and I can't go home, and I can't go to Ron's house with everyone there mourning for Fred, and Harry, _I don't know what to do now!" _ Her knees buckled and she ended up on the floor, half on top of Harry who had tried to ease her down. Her back leaned against Snape's bedframe. "I don't know what to do," she whispered.

Harry cradled her face with his hands. His eyes blazed at her. "We. Will. Get. Through. This." He enunciated slowly and clearly. "The castle is broken. We'll help rebuild. If you want somewhere to sleep we'll take the tent and go up into Gryffindor tower and ward it six ways from Sunday. We'll recast the _Fidelius _on Number 12 and stay there." He smiled gently and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "You'll go back to school and get your NEWTs." He jerked his chin at Snape. "You'll help _him. _We'll go to Australia, all of us, you, me and Ron, and try to fix your parents; bring them back." He tilted his head. "I'll probably get married in a couple years and you'll be my kids Godmother, Hermione. You'll get married, to Ron or some other guy that you'll be madly in love with. We'll have Christmas together. You'll be Minster for Magic and I'll be an Auror, and we will live happily ever after, okay? _That's what will happen." _

"Oh, Harry. I almost believe you."

He stood up, a crooked smile tilting his lips. "Well, that's a good enough start. I'm gonna go find Ginny. Probably do this—" He gestured to Hermione, "All over again. At least now I've got the speech already written. Oh, and Mione? Call me if you need me. I'm just a thought away."

Hermione forced her breathing even and deep. "I'll be fine Harry. Snape will protect me."

Harry snorted. "The other way around, you mean." He stepped easily through her protections.

She sat there for a long time, her head tilted back against the mattress and her butt falling asleep from sitting so still. Finally, she slipped into a troubled sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

Snape did not stir until the first weak rays of dawn slanted through the windows. He kept his eyes closed, _listening _with his ears—_ear_—and trying to sense if he was in any danger. Strangely, he couldn't sense any. Mostly silence met him except for the whisper soft breathing near his…_right hand? What?_

With less effort than he expected he shifted his hand over until he encountered a soft bushy mass of hair. _Human hair at that. _His fingers slid through the hair before finding skin. _Why in the world was there a woman sleeping next to his bed? _He ghosted his fingers over her brow, and stroked down her cheek. A long breath escaped him. _How long had it been since he'd touched a woman? Long time. Long time. _

He cracked open his eyes and blinked, trying to clear his vision. Still blurry, but no doubling. Good. He slid his fingers through the silky hair, stroking his thumb against her head. _Strangely soothing, this. _The action calmed the rising anxiety that seemed to be an essential part of him.

A throaty moan broke the silence and Snape startled, jerking his fingers out of her hair. The moan turned into a _yelp, _and suddenly he was faced with a panicking woman.

_It's all right, _he tried to say, but his throat—already tight—erupted into an agonizing bout of coughing.

"Shit, shit, shit!" The woman scrambled up on the bed, straddling him—_why?!—_when his neck erupted in an explosion of pain. "Stop fighting, you stupid man, all that coughing's got your neck gushing blood again, and I didn't save your live just to lose it now!"

He gasped for air. _Kind of hard to breath with someone leaning on your neck! _ He opened his eyes to find himself faced with her breasts. Her shirt gaped open as she leaned over him. Snape was acutely aware of the woman squirming on top of him, holding pressure to his neck. He might not be able to move his head from where it was pinned, but he could certainly move his _hands. _He found her thighs, then her hips and held her in place. Had he more blood in his veins there was little doubt he'd be rock hard against her. The thought itself gave life to his groin and in spite of the _literal! _pain in his neck he shifted under her, moving his hips against hers.

Hermione froze. Her breath stilled in her chest even as her heart raced. Blood oozed through her fingers, turning his black hair into a mess. His head was turned away giving her access to his wound, but his hands had viced onto her hips. She looked down at him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, the pulse in his neck jumping.

His left hand rose and covered her fingers on his neck. Slowly, he turned his head and looked at her.

Her heart rate felt like it doubled in her chest. His eyes, black and hungry, met hers before dropping to her lips, and further then to her breasts. Her hands and feet tingled and her stomach somehow wedged in her throat. _She felt him hard against her. _Wetness surged between her legs and she couldn't stop herself, couldn't _help_ herself from squirming on him.

Snape's eyes rocketed back to hers. His right hand never left her body, but _slid _up her back, to her neck and applied pressure, urging her down, urging her _closer. _Her lips parted and her gaze fell to his mouth. His hand at her neck pulled her down toward his mouth and _she let him. _

She hesitated, breathing his breath, staring into his eyes, grinding against him. Then she kissed him.


	5. Chapter 5

Between one breath and the next, everything changed. Rational thought, scarce to begin with lately, had gone out the window. Snape knew there were holes in his brain, knew he'd forgotten a quarter of his life, or so. He did know that if he were in his right mind, he never would have let it get this far. He would have chucked this woman to the floor as soon as she'd climbed aboard. Probably would have said something awful, as well.

But he _did _have holes in his brain, and he had no voice to say _anything_, let alone something awful. In short, he was quite aware of his deficits—_hell, let's keep a running tally, shall we?—_but none of that mattered.

He'd wanted her to _so badly, _and then, she'd actually gone and done it. _She'd kissed him. _But not just a kiss, no. This was like a drop of rain in the desert. The truly funny thing though? _She was the desert! _Practically making love to his mouth, nibbling his lips until he parted them, stroking her tongue against his, _grinding her hips against him…_

Severus Snape—for the first time in his life—He was the rain. He couldn't remember ever having been treated like this in his life! She was moaning into his mouth, plunging fingers through his hair; Her thumb rubbed against his cheek, and when she withdrew just a little, just enough so that her tongue was back in her own mouth, she brushed her lips all over his face, like she was trying to memorize him with them.

He knew enough of himself to know that he'd never been the rain to a woman's desert before. _Never. _And Gods! He couldn't get enough. He wished fervently for his voice, wanted desperately to know her name—_and she looked so damned familiar but he just could not remember—_he wanted to moan and growl under her and roll her underneath of him, but of _course _he simply was not healthy enough to do so.

He let go of her neck and tugged at her hand in his hair. She leaned back from him slightly, earning a quick indrawn breath from him when she straddled him more firmly. He clasped his fingers through hers and squeezed. Almost hesitantly, she allowed her gaze to move from his mouth to his eyes. When she finally, finally looked at him, he let his fingers relax and open. He laid his palm against hers, never moving his eyes from hers. Everything he could not say he tried to convey through his hands. _I am the rain. _ He couldn't tell her how _incredible, impossible, _she was, so he cupped her cheek in his left hand and ran his thumb across her swollen mouth.

He expected…he didn't know. Somehow he thought she might pepper him with questions he couldn't answer, or run from the room as if he might—as if he _could_—give chase. Eventually she dragged her gaze away and inspected his neck. She heaved a great sigh.

"I think it's stopped bleeding, finally." A blush stained her cheeks and she chewed on her lips. The noises of the morning gradually began to rise against her wards. She _accio'd _her wand from the floor and gestured it at the screens. Carefully, she swung her legs back to the floor. "I, um…should go," she said to her shoes.

She made it as far as the door way before turning back to look at him. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. _Yes, what is it? _ She walked quickly to his bedside and clasped his wrist. A swift kiss to his cheek and a whisper that stayed with him for hours.

_I don't regret it._

XXXXXXXX

She felt the panic rising in her chest. _Oh my God, what have I done, what have I, what did I, Oh my God, my God _She closed her eyes. Counted to five. Breathed. In. Out. Her entire being focused on her breath moving in and out of her lungs, silencing her thoughts, calming her pounding heart.

She stopped by Madame Pomfrey's office before she left. "Hello?" She called.

"Oh, Miss Granger, I'm back here."

Hermione found the Matron at the back of her office inspecting shelves. Pomfrey was holding up phials with her wand, setting some aside on her desk, returning others to the shelf.

"How is the Headmaster this morning?" Poppy did not look up from her work.

"Well, he's…" Hermione floundered. "He coughed a bit and his neck started bleeding again, but it stopped with some pressure." Some of his blood was left under her fingernails, she realized, and clenched her hands reflexively. "He's a…a bit _different _don't you think?" A hysterical giggle threatened to erupt. _He never used to be able to have a civil conversation with anyone, and oh, by the way, I just kissed him. _

"You did well with him, Hermione. Very quick thinking on your part saved his life." Pomfrey sighed and closed her eyes. "We were so wrong about him," she said softly. "I know that was the point, that's what he wanted, no _needed—_but if he had just _trusted me, _I could have helped him. He wouldn't have had to be so _alone…_"

Hermione didn't think that Pomfrey had actually meant to tell her any of that. Maybe she and Harry and Ron weren't the only ones figuring things out. Yesterday—_Was it really only yesterday? —_Harry had killed Voldemort. Two days ago they'd destroyed Gringott's and escaped on a dragon. Two days ago, Severus Snape was still the enemy, the evil murderer and number one henchman of the Dark Lord. But yesterday, it was Snape that gave Harry the means to end the war. Yesterday Snape had sacrificed himself—_the snake striking, and striking, Snape's life fading as silver tears leaked from his eyes. _

This morning he was a man changed, lighter somehow, Hermione thought.

Pomfrey seemed to shake herself out of her thoughts. "I'm not sure what your plans are dear, but you seem to be very good with him." She paused a beat. "Maybe good _for _him, too." At Hermione's frozen look, Pomfrey chuckled. "You didn't really think I missed you sleeping on the floor next to his cot? Or the ridiculously overpowered wards?"

"They were perfectly appropriate! Who knows how many Death Eaters will be trying to kill him! The castle has no defenses left! Honestly, anyone—" Hermione realized that she was shouting.

Pomfrey laid down her wand and clasped Hermione by the shoulders. "That's what it was like this last year, wasn't it." It was not a question. "Always being chased. Never being safe. Trusting no one."

Hermione could not speak over the great lump in her throat. _Being tortured. Terrified. Hungry. Hurt. Alone. Desperate. _From very far away an unearthly howl filled the room. Somewhere, somebody was in terrible pain. Somewhere, somebody was suffering. A great gasping breath tore through her chest. The howling continued, the sound shattering her eardrums with its awful pitch and Hermione finally realized, finally _accepted, _that _she_ was the someone in pain and suffering.

"Oh, my poor dear," Poppy wrapped her arms about the younger woman and simply let her be. Her voice filled with sorrow as she said, "I'm afraid for you and the rest of the survivors, the tears are only beginning."

Hermione wept.

XXXXXX

Eventually Hermione realized she had to eat. She wasn't hungry really, but she knew she had to feed the gnawing ache in her stomach. She lingered in the corridor outside the hospital wing for a few minutes before settling on a destination and heading toward the kitchen. Her thoughts no longer came swiftly. Instead it seemed as if they rose up through a mist of clouds, half formed and nebulous.

For example, when she first thought of food she thought of the Great Hall and the grand ceiling. _Destroyed, _her mind whispered. _Rubble. Bodies laid out, waiting for someone to do something with them._

That was such an awful thought that she had to lean against the walls and focus on breathing again. Maybe she wasn't really hungry. She'd probably just throw it up anyway. She pushed off the wall and started walking again. At the end of the corridor there should have been a stairway. Instead there was rubble and a steep drop off. She resisted the urge to peer over the edge, and turned back the way she'd come. There were other ways down.

She was about to pass the Hospital Wing again. Without conscious thought, her feet took her in. She hesitated outside of Snape's screens. _I kissed Severus Snape this morning, _she thought. Gathering her courage, she poked her head in.

Someone, Pomfrey most likely, had changed the dressing on his neck. His hair was tied back, but a long lock had escaped and been tucked behind his right ear. He rested against a bunch of pillows so that he was nearly in a sitting position. A glass of ice water rested on the small table next to the bed. A ring of condensation gathered around the bottom of the glass. As Hermione got closer, she saw that what she had taken for a straw in the water, was in fact a small sponge on a sturdy handle. The man himself looked to be in a deep sleep.

She drew her wand and cast her protection spells. Then she conjured a small footstool and transfigured the wooden visitors chair into something a little more comfortable. _Well, _she thought. _That was unexpected. _For instead of a squashy armchair, she had transfigured an overlarge beanbag chair. She sank into the deep beanbag and propped her feet up.

Some time later, Snape jerked awake. He blinked rapidly in the bright afternoon light. His eyes widened when he saw her. He looked frustrated and mimed writing in the air.

"Oh, I'm sorry I should have done straight away…" A moment later she held a small notepad and biro, which she handed over.

_Sorry about this morning._

"Sorry? Not about…?"

He shook his head slowly and huffed a deep sigh. _ For bleeding all over you. Again. _

"Oh, well, I'm just glad you're all right." She leaned forward. "How are you doing anyway?"

His lips tightened. _Not sleeping much. Hungry. Can't eat or drink yet. _He gestured to the glass of water and looked annoyed. He wrote more on the pad.

_What is your name? I can't seem to recall._

For the first time since leaving his side this morning, Hermione smiled. "I almost don't want to tell you, I used to annoy you so much…"

_I find that hard to believe._

She giggled. "It's true, I assure you." She heard his pen scratching at the paper.

_You said you had no regrets. __Why did __Have we ever __kissed __done anything like that before?_

Heat rose in her cheeks, and she ducked her head. "That was, um…that was the first time…Severus."

He stilled at the sound of his name. He tapped the paper again, using his pen to point to his question about her name. Hermione plucked the biro out of his fingers.

Hermione Granger, at your service.

_It's a lovely name._

You really don't remember?

_I truly do not. _He looked pensive. _My memories are all-jumbled. Like I dumped some out and forgot to put them back._

She didn't have the heart to tell him that _yes, _he'd actually done just that very thing. She did not get far in her thoughts as the notepad was unceremoniously shoved under her nose, which earned him a _look. _And then a darker _look _after she'd read the message.

_You look like you need a few good meals. What were you doing before rescuing me? Living off the land?_

Hermione could almost hear the sarcasm rising from the paper. She sat back. "I'm hungry and I'm not. I mean, I know I need to eat to live. I just…Well, for one thing I can't seem to get to the kitchens right now and the Great Hall…" She swallowed. _Is not someplace I will EVER be able to eat again._

Snape looked heavenward as best he could, then rolled his eyes at her._ Call for a House Elf. _

"You're brilliant!" She smiled.

Snape, startled at this proclamation, gave her a diffident half shrug. Still he seemed pleased. He began writing again. He hesitated, but offered her the pad.

_You could eat here. If you want_

She hid a grin behind her hand. "Okay. Um, _House elf!" _When nothing happened, she leaned back in her bean bag, deflated. She was therefore unprepared for the elf to arrive with a loud _CRACK. _ Reflexively, a silent _Stupefy _roared out of her wand. The elf _cracked _out, and the spell passed harmlessly through the air where it had been a millisecond prior. It then destroyed the two screens shielding Snape from view.

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. _Her lungs felt tight and her chest hurt. Blood roared in her ears. After a few minutes passed and nothing at all happened, Hermione realized that she was crammed into the small space between the bed and the floor.

From far away she heard a deep sigh. The pad of paper dropped next to her on the floor.

_You should talk to Dumbledore. Where has he been anyway?_


End file.

Harry Potter, Drama, Romance