Never Give Up, Chapter 9
Jan. 17th, 2011 09:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
swissmargChapter 9
Trapt - "New Beginning"
"Professor! Professor Snape!" Hermione burst into her apartment, breathless. It was after midnight. She'd spent the last few hours at St. Mungo's, taking care of formalities and making sure that Snape was settled in. The Healers had been shocked, to say the least, when she and the Lovegoods had turned up with this man everyone had presumed dead, but to their credit had handled things with the utmost professionalism. Hermione's biggest fear at this point was that the press would get wind of it and interfere with his treatment.
Snape hadn't stirred throughout the flurry around his person, and now Hermione was beginning to worry that Luna and her father might have been right about the risk of moving him. She was beating herself up mentally for not having checked Snape more thoroughly that night in the Shrieking Shack, but at the same time, she knew she couldn't second-guess her actions. She and the boys had done what they felt was most important at the time, to stop Voldemort's reign of terror. They had been working against the clock, with the evil Dark Lord's countdown running. All the more reason for her to be determined that he would make a full recovery, and not end up like Lockhart or Neville's parents.
Now, as she turned up the lights in her rooms, she fretted impatiently over Snape's absence. Turns up every bloody time you don't want him, and then when you do--
"Late night, Professor?"
Hermione could have hugged him. She would have, in fact, had he had a body.
"Oh, Professor!" She could hardly contain her joy. "I've found you! I mean, I've found your body!"
Snape frowned. "Are you under the influence of some potion? You're not making any sense. Not that it would make a great difference," he muttered.
"I have found ... your ... body," Hermione said in as controlled a manner as she could, given her euphoric state. She held her breath, awaiting Snape's reaction.
It left something to be desired. "I see," he stated flatly. "Well, where was I, then? Snugged away in Malfoy's cellar? Or left to the elements of the Forest, as Potter thought?"
"None of that, silly! You're alive!" She bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement.
"Now you are truly spouting nonsense!" Snape scowled. "I am clearly not alive. Or is this a hallmark of the living?" He moved through the couch and went to stand in the burning fireplace.
Hermione shook her head. "I'm not explaining myself well, I'm sorry. I'm just ... so excited. I can't believe it!"
She took a deep breath and began pacing around the room as she went through the incredible tale of what she had found when she went to the Lovegoods'. As she spoke, Snape drifted out of the fireplace and came closer and closer to her.
"Are you saying..." he said, sotto voce, when she had ended her recitation, "that I did not die in the Shrieking Shack that night?"
Hermione shook her head, beaming. "Nope."
"Then what is this-- What am I?" He gestured at his body.
"An astral projection would be my best guess. But that doesn't matter, what matters now is getting you back into your body, for good! Now--"
Hermione launched into what the Healers had told her their next plans for treatment were, hardly noticing that Snape had turned away and wandered into a corner of the room.
"--so the first thing you need to do is find your way to St. Mungo's," she finally concluded, "because that's where your body is now." When Snape didn't answer, Hermione prompted him, "Professor? Did you hear what I said? I should think it's something like Apparating. You know: destination, determination, deliberation. Just picture St. Mungo's; you must have been there before--"
"No," Snape said, quietly.
"... what was that?" Hermione asked.
"I said: No." Snape spoke through clenched teeth, his back still to Hermione. She approached him, cautious now, as she heard something dangerous in his tone.
"You haven't been to St. Mungo's before? Okay, that's a bit of a problem, but maybe we can--"
"Of course I've been to St. Mungo's before!" Snape growled over his shoulder. "I meant no, I'm not going."
Hermione took a moment to consider what he meant. Finally, she asked hesitantly, "Professor? Don't you want to go back to your body?"
Snape pressed his fists to his forehead, but didn't answer.
"The bite healed up well, if that's what you're worried about. I mean, there's a scar, but it's not like Bill or anything..."
"I don't care what it looks like -- what I look like! I don't want to go back to my body! I don't want--"
"But then you'll die," Hermione whispered, stricken. "The Healers said if you don't return to your body at least once every twenty-four hours, you'll be permanently severed. You can't-- I mean, you just can't--"
"I can! It's my choice!" He whirled around to face her, his expression fierce. "For once in my life, it's my choice!"
"But--"
"Once again, you are being tiresomely repetitive, Professor! Your friend Miss Lovegood was entirely correct in her assumption that there was nothing enticing enough to make me want to return. There is nothing for me here now. I served my purpose, and my time came. I have already made my peace with the fact of my continued existence as a Hogwarts portrait -- something I didn't consider when I agreed to take on the position of Headmaster, but there's no changing it now. But beyond that -- I'm tired," he said, and he did look it now, all the fight draining out of him, his face becoming long and drawn. All he wanted were chains to make the resemblance to poor Bob Marley's ghost complete. "I made a mess of my life, and those of many others as well. Why would I want to continue that?"
"Because you're not the same person now," Hermione said quietly. "It's not the same world."
"The world may have changed, but I am the same person," he said in a low and despondent tone. "You may see me differently now... but I haven't changed."
"Then change yourself, if you don't like it! But I have the feeling you don't see yourself as you truly are. You think you're horrible and dark and mean, and I'll admit, there is that side to you. Or at least you acted that part very well, in the past. But you're also noble and selfless, you're loyal and clever--"
"You make it sound as if those are good things," Snape said bitterly. "Gryffindor traits--"
"And Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. It's not about your House, it's about your heart. You have a good heart, Professor. You've just had to hide it from everyone for so long, you've forgotten what it looks like yourself. But Luna saw it, and I see it now too. I think Harry does as well."
"Lovegood thinks kneazles are running the government, and Potter's opinion has never been of interest to me."
"And me? What about my opinion?"
Snape glared at Hermione, as if it were her fault he couldn't come up with a good retort. "Just so much romantic drivel," he finally muttered. "I've become your cause célèbre; you are merely attempting to justify your interest in my case."
"I'm not interested in your 'case'. I'm interested in you. God, listen to me!" She laughed shortly and spun around, walking over to stare into the fire. "I think life in the dungeons is getting to me," she muttered, amused. "I like coming home and finding you here. I'm actually disappointed when you're not! I like talking to you... well, not the arguments so much. You're a very pig-headed man, do you know that?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "But there's so much more to you than I used to think. I want to find out everything; to know everything."
"You were always a bloody nuisance know-it-all," Snape said grudgingly.
Hermione smiled. "Yes, I was. And I am. And I'm not going to give up on you now, not when we're so close. You don't need to return to teach at Hogwarts, you know. You can do whatever you want."
"I have no home, no money--"
"I'm sure there are people who can be persuaded to help get you set up wherever you want. Lucius Malfoy, for one, still has an unpaid debt to me, and I wouldn't be at all surprised to find out he owes you a thing or two as well. And then there's Harry. Besides, who needs money when you have magic?"
"A very tidy solution," he said haughtily. "Save my life so that you can feel self-righteous, then throw money at the problem until it goes away, preferably somewhere without a Floo connection or any chance of returning to haunt you."
Hermione threw her arms up in exasperation. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, you can live out the remainder of your days hiding in my quarters if that's what you want!"
Snape folded his arms and looked down his nose at her. "If I'm still alive, these are still my quarters."
"Not if your contract was terminated," Hermione pointed out.
"Is there anything you don't have an answer to?" he asked, although he didn't seem as irritated as he tried to make it sound.
Hermione laughed. "Oh, yes. Many things." Boys -- men, she thought, correcting herself. You. She realized that somehow, she and Snape had ended up standing there facing each other in front of the fire. The light from the hearth shone right through him, making him glow and softening his features so that he appeared ... more at peace, perhaps. Hermione felt the unfamiliar desire to reach up and touch his face, recalling the feel of his skin under her hand at the Lovegoods'. Something was changing between them. The usual tension had been replaced... with a different kind of tension.
"I have no doubt you will continue to apply yourself until you have discovered those answers," Snape said, with a hint of amusement in his voice, although his face remained as passive as ever.
Hermione felt her heart beating hard against her ribs and hoped he couldn't see the throbbing rhythm through her clothes. "Yes. You're right," she finally said.
Snape searched her face with his strange, semi-translucent eyes. "Bravo," he said, very low and soft. "I do believe that's the first time I've heard those words out of your ... mouth." His eyes stopped on the feature mentioned and hung there.
"So... will you go?" Hermione finally said when the suspense became too much for her. "To St. Mungo's?"
Snape slowly raised his gaze to meet hers. "I'm not certain I have a choice."
"You always have a choice."
"Not with you, it seems."
Not quite sure how to take that, Hermione tried to play it off with humor. "No, that's right," she said with a toss of her head. "I always get my way. So off to St. Mungo's with you! Or... " She hesitated as another possible complication occurred to her. "I'd like to be there when you wake up." If he wakes up, a pessimistic voice inside her warned. "To make sure everything's all right, and tell you what happened," she explained, trying to make it sound like merely professional interest. "You might not remember any of this, after all."
"I believe that visiting hours for St. Mungo's are long over," Snape said.
"Yes, so... you could stay here. I mean here, in this room. And I could sleep a bit. In the other room. Although I'm so keyed up, I'm not sure I can really sleep. But I could probably use the rest, since--"
"Professor Granger. You have the most annoying tendency to babble when you are unsure what to say."
Hermione closed her mouth, then began again at a more measured pace. "Yes, sorry. What I mean is: if you don't mind waiting a couple of hours, we could leave for the hospital at the same time in the morning. Just so I can make sure you arrive there safely."
Snape inclined his head slightly. "That sounds acceptable."
Hermione couldn't help smiling broadly. "Good. Then I'll... just go to bed now." She jerked her thumb in the direction of the other room.
"I will remain here."
"If you do feel yourself... fading away, like you do sometimes? Just remember to think, 'St. Mungo's'," she instructed him. "I wouldn't want you to get lost."
"No, indeed."
"Good night, then, Professor." Hermione started toward the bedroom.
"Good night."
Before she could say anything more foolish, Hermione hurried into the bedroom and pushed the door almost all the way closed, leaving a hand's breadth of space. Her body and mind buzzing from the night's events, and looking forward to the next day with both anticipation and a case of nerves as big as Slytherin's basilisk, it seemed an interminably long time until the morning.
======
At around four in the morning, Hermione, weary from tossing and turning in her bed, and determining that sleep would be impossible that night, sat up with the intention of going out and seeing if Snape were still there. It seemed ridiculous that she should be exiled in her room whilst he remained out in the living room, unable to recline or rest himself.
As soon as she pushed the covers back, though, she noticed a shadow momentarily block the faint light coming in through the partly open bedroom door.
"Professor?" she said softly. "Is that you?"
The shadow stopped. "Yes," he answered in a likewise quiet voice. "I am sorry, I did not mean to disturb you."
"I wasn't able to sleep anyway," she said, propping herself up in bed. "Come in."
"I am here," his voice said from somewhere near her.
Hermione startled a bit at the realization that had probably been in the bedroom longer than just the past few moments. "Have you been here the whole time?"
"No," he answered, although there was something evasive in his response.
"But you were in here, just now-- before I spoke to you."
There was silence for a few seconds, before he admitted, "Yes."
Hermione was silent in return.
"I apologize," he said stiffly, "I did not mean to take liberties. I thought you asleep."
"I wasn't able to sleep. Did you... Have you been in here often? On other nights? When I was sleeping?"
"Rarely. I usually ... left: involuntarily ... not long after you would retire. In reflecting on what we have now discovered about my state, I believe I also ... fell asleep during those hours, my spirit returning to my body for rest."
"And the other times? You did watch me sleeping, didn't you?"
"I couldn't actually see anything," Snape said, and Hermione could hear the sneer in his voice even if she couldn't see it on his face through the darkness. "I am not a lecherous old man entertaining fantasies over your lifeless form."
"I didn't say you were. I mean, it's a bit creepy... but I think I understand. It must have been lonely and boring, being stuck here in the dark for hours on end and not able to leave or do anything."
"As you say. There were moments, when the window-picture was very dark, when I didn't know whether I was still here, or had drifted into some limbo. Hearing you breathe enabled me to maintain my orientation."
"And?" Hermione asked, grinning. "Do I snore?"
"No," he said, sounding affronted at being called on to answer such a ridiculous question.
"I'm going to turn up the lights a bit. I don't think either of us is going to get any more sleep tonight." With a brief command, the level of illumination increased to a dim twilight. She was now able to see Snape standing near her, and mentally checked her state of dress. Finding it acceptable and unlikely to arouse his sensibilities, she pulled the covers up around herself like a nest and made herself comfortable.
"I would offer you a seat, but--"
"I do not suffer from physical weariness in this state," Snape informed her.
"We could go into the other room, but it's just more comfortable for me here. You don't mind, do you?"
"I find the sight of you in my bed no longer as disturbing as it was initially."
"Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd hear you say."
Snape glared at her. "Do not assume that--"
Hermione held up a hand, laughing. "All right, it's all right, don't worry. I'll take that to mean you're getting used to the idea that this is no longer your room, at least for this school year. And, strangely, I don't find the sight of you in my bedroom as disturbing as I did initially." She silently dared him to pick up on that, shocked at her own audacity in flirting with Severus Snape.
"When I am back in my body, I can assure you there will be no need to replicate the situation."
Shame, Hermione found herself thinking automatically, accompanied by a swooping feeling in her stomach. But she said, "So you are going back to your body. I'm glad," and smiled out of genuine happiness.
"We shall see, at least, what happens," he said. "Am I to understand that you wish to spend the remaining hours until St. Mungo's opens in conversation?"
"Unless you have a better suggestion?" she asked, trying to obliterate any hint of sauciness from her remark.
Snape looked as if he were considering a retort of some kind, but instead, after a few seconds, said, "No. But perhaps we could discuss something of substance."
"By all means," Hermione readily agreed, glad to move away from the slippery footing of negotiating the terms of their relationship and onto the solid ground of scientific inquiry. "I would be interested to hear of any projects you were working on before your ... non-death."
And so they were able to pass the remaining time until the sun rose, with Hermione gently plying Snape with what she hoped were innocuous questions on topics of a non-personal nature, which nevertheless interested her. He spoke at first as if he were giving a lecture, obviously unused to the give-and-take of a genuine conversation, but as the clock crept toward the end of their adventure, he paused more often to listen to Hermione's opinions and thoughts; or perhaps he was merely growing weary, and his mental faculties were lagging.
When the light from the window-picture in the next room became greater than the dimness in the bedroom, Hermione stretched and suggested they might start getting ready. St. Mungo's would open at 8 am to visitors.
Snape withdrew to the living room to give Hermione privacy for washing and getting dressed. As she did so, one issue kept circling around in her mind and wouldn't let her go: would Snape remember this episode, and all that had passed between them? She was coming to regard him as a friend, one whom she didn't want to lose. She didn't know if it would be possible for them to regain the fragile trust and bridge of understanding that they had built up over the past week, if he had no memory of what had happened. She also felt it was important, for his sake -- for his mental recovery -- that he remember. If he woke up to the world he knew only from before, one where he had no friends nor even allies, where he was vilified by most and tolerated, at best, by only a few... he might curse everyone who had a part in saving him, and perhaps worse.
"Well, I think I'm ready," Hermione said as she emerged from the bedroom, putting on a bright face. "Before we go, though, there's something I want to talk to you about."
Snape groaned. "Haven't you done enough talking for one night? I am so tired I believe I would find my way back to my body without even trying."
"That's good, and we'll be off in just a minute. I want to be sure, though... I want you to remember. I want you to remember everything we talked about, and all the people who want you back. Everyone who helped you."
Snape's lip curled. "Why? So that you may all collect on a wizard's debt?"
"No!" Hermione exclaimed, hurt that he would even think such a thing. "I have no claim over you; if anyone did, it would be Luna and her father, but they would never hold that over you. I doubt they would even think of it, unless you brought it up.
"I just want you to know... Here, I know this is silly, but I couldn't think of anything better." She held up a sparkling hair pin, the one she'd used to test Luna's cork. "This is to remind you that you have friends you can count on. I know you can't take it now, and you'd probably refuse to take it even if you could. But as soon as I get to St. Mungo's, I'm going to put this in your hand, your real hand. Then when you wake up... maybe it will jog something in your memory." Hermione busied herself with stowing the hair pin in her pocket, afraid of seeing Snape's derision and contempt for her foolish sentimentality.
As he did not answer, Hermione, embarrassed but determined, went to her fireplace and stirred the embers until a small fire had rekindled itself. "St. Mungo's, then, Professor," she said, louder than was necessary, and finally dared to look up at him. "I'll be there."
He was watching her, impassive as always, but when their eyes met, he gave her a slight nod.
She grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the jar on the mantel and threw it into the fire, causing a rush of green flames to flare up. "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries!" she cried out as she stepped in. As the room spun away, she caught one last glimpse of Snape, raising one hand to her in salutation.
Trapt - "New Beginning"
"Professor! Professor Snape!" Hermione burst into her apartment, breathless. It was after midnight. She'd spent the last few hours at St. Mungo's, taking care of formalities and making sure that Snape was settled in. The Healers had been shocked, to say the least, when she and the Lovegoods had turned up with this man everyone had presumed dead, but to their credit had handled things with the utmost professionalism. Hermione's biggest fear at this point was that the press would get wind of it and interfere with his treatment.
Snape hadn't stirred throughout the flurry around his person, and now Hermione was beginning to worry that Luna and her father might have been right about the risk of moving him. She was beating herself up mentally for not having checked Snape more thoroughly that night in the Shrieking Shack, but at the same time, she knew she couldn't second-guess her actions. She and the boys had done what they felt was most important at the time, to stop Voldemort's reign of terror. They had been working against the clock, with the evil Dark Lord's countdown running. All the more reason for her to be determined that he would make a full recovery, and not end up like Lockhart or Neville's parents.
Now, as she turned up the lights in her rooms, she fretted impatiently over Snape's absence. Turns up every bloody time you don't want him, and then when you do--
"Late night, Professor?"
Hermione could have hugged him. She would have, in fact, had he had a body.
"Oh, Professor!" She could hardly contain her joy. "I've found you! I mean, I've found your body!"
Snape frowned. "Are you under the influence of some potion? You're not making any sense. Not that it would make a great difference," he muttered.
"I have found ... your ... body," Hermione said in as controlled a manner as she could, given her euphoric state. She held her breath, awaiting Snape's reaction.
It left something to be desired. "I see," he stated flatly. "Well, where was I, then? Snugged away in Malfoy's cellar? Or left to the elements of the Forest, as Potter thought?"
"None of that, silly! You're alive!" She bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement.
"Now you are truly spouting nonsense!" Snape scowled. "I am clearly not alive. Or is this a hallmark of the living?" He moved through the couch and went to stand in the burning fireplace.
Hermione shook her head. "I'm not explaining myself well, I'm sorry. I'm just ... so excited. I can't believe it!"
She took a deep breath and began pacing around the room as she went through the incredible tale of what she had found when she went to the Lovegoods'. As she spoke, Snape drifted out of the fireplace and came closer and closer to her.
"Are you saying..." he said, sotto voce, when she had ended her recitation, "that I did not die in the Shrieking Shack that night?"
Hermione shook her head, beaming. "Nope."
"Then what is this-- What am I?" He gestured at his body.
"An astral projection would be my best guess. But that doesn't matter, what matters now is getting you back into your body, for good! Now--"
Hermione launched into what the Healers had told her their next plans for treatment were, hardly noticing that Snape had turned away and wandered into a corner of the room.
"--so the first thing you need to do is find your way to St. Mungo's," she finally concluded, "because that's where your body is now." When Snape didn't answer, Hermione prompted him, "Professor? Did you hear what I said? I should think it's something like Apparating. You know: destination, determination, deliberation. Just picture St. Mungo's; you must have been there before--"
"No," Snape said, quietly.
"... what was that?" Hermione asked.
"I said: No." Snape spoke through clenched teeth, his back still to Hermione. She approached him, cautious now, as she heard something dangerous in his tone.
"You haven't been to St. Mungo's before? Okay, that's a bit of a problem, but maybe we can--"
"Of course I've been to St. Mungo's before!" Snape growled over his shoulder. "I meant no, I'm not going."
Hermione took a moment to consider what he meant. Finally, she asked hesitantly, "Professor? Don't you want to go back to your body?"
Snape pressed his fists to his forehead, but didn't answer.
"The bite healed up well, if that's what you're worried about. I mean, there's a scar, but it's not like Bill or anything..."
"I don't care what it looks like -- what I look like! I don't want to go back to my body! I don't want--"
"But then you'll die," Hermione whispered, stricken. "The Healers said if you don't return to your body at least once every twenty-four hours, you'll be permanently severed. You can't-- I mean, you just can't--"
"I can! It's my choice!" He whirled around to face her, his expression fierce. "For once in my life, it's my choice!"
"But--"
"Once again, you are being tiresomely repetitive, Professor! Your friend Miss Lovegood was entirely correct in her assumption that there was nothing enticing enough to make me want to return. There is nothing for me here now. I served my purpose, and my time came. I have already made my peace with the fact of my continued existence as a Hogwarts portrait -- something I didn't consider when I agreed to take on the position of Headmaster, but there's no changing it now. But beyond that -- I'm tired," he said, and he did look it now, all the fight draining out of him, his face becoming long and drawn. All he wanted were chains to make the resemblance to poor Bob Marley's ghost complete. "I made a mess of my life, and those of many others as well. Why would I want to continue that?"
"Because you're not the same person now," Hermione said quietly. "It's not the same world."
"The world may have changed, but I am the same person," he said in a low and despondent tone. "You may see me differently now... but I haven't changed."
"Then change yourself, if you don't like it! But I have the feeling you don't see yourself as you truly are. You think you're horrible and dark and mean, and I'll admit, there is that side to you. Or at least you acted that part very well, in the past. But you're also noble and selfless, you're loyal and clever--"
"You make it sound as if those are good things," Snape said bitterly. "Gryffindor traits--"
"And Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. It's not about your House, it's about your heart. You have a good heart, Professor. You've just had to hide it from everyone for so long, you've forgotten what it looks like yourself. But Luna saw it, and I see it now too. I think Harry does as well."
"Lovegood thinks kneazles are running the government, and Potter's opinion has never been of interest to me."
"And me? What about my opinion?"
Snape glared at Hermione, as if it were her fault he couldn't come up with a good retort. "Just so much romantic drivel," he finally muttered. "I've become your cause célèbre; you are merely attempting to justify your interest in my case."
"I'm not interested in your 'case'. I'm interested in you. God, listen to me!" She laughed shortly and spun around, walking over to stare into the fire. "I think life in the dungeons is getting to me," she muttered, amused. "I like coming home and finding you here. I'm actually disappointed when you're not! I like talking to you... well, not the arguments so much. You're a very pig-headed man, do you know that?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "But there's so much more to you than I used to think. I want to find out everything; to know everything."
"You were always a bloody nuisance know-it-all," Snape said grudgingly.
Hermione smiled. "Yes, I was. And I am. And I'm not going to give up on you now, not when we're so close. You don't need to return to teach at Hogwarts, you know. You can do whatever you want."
"I have no home, no money--"
"I'm sure there are people who can be persuaded to help get you set up wherever you want. Lucius Malfoy, for one, still has an unpaid debt to me, and I wouldn't be at all surprised to find out he owes you a thing or two as well. And then there's Harry. Besides, who needs money when you have magic?"
"A very tidy solution," he said haughtily. "Save my life so that you can feel self-righteous, then throw money at the problem until it goes away, preferably somewhere without a Floo connection or any chance of returning to haunt you."
Hermione threw her arms up in exasperation. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, you can live out the remainder of your days hiding in my quarters if that's what you want!"
Snape folded his arms and looked down his nose at her. "If I'm still alive, these are still my quarters."
"Not if your contract was terminated," Hermione pointed out.
"Is there anything you don't have an answer to?" he asked, although he didn't seem as irritated as he tried to make it sound.
Hermione laughed. "Oh, yes. Many things." Boys -- men, she thought, correcting herself. You. She realized that somehow, she and Snape had ended up standing there facing each other in front of the fire. The light from the hearth shone right through him, making him glow and softening his features so that he appeared ... more at peace, perhaps. Hermione felt the unfamiliar desire to reach up and touch his face, recalling the feel of his skin under her hand at the Lovegoods'. Something was changing between them. The usual tension had been replaced... with a different kind of tension.
"I have no doubt you will continue to apply yourself until you have discovered those answers," Snape said, with a hint of amusement in his voice, although his face remained as passive as ever.
Hermione felt her heart beating hard against her ribs and hoped he couldn't see the throbbing rhythm through her clothes. "Yes. You're right," she finally said.
Snape searched her face with his strange, semi-translucent eyes. "Bravo," he said, very low and soft. "I do believe that's the first time I've heard those words out of your ... mouth." His eyes stopped on the feature mentioned and hung there.
"So... will you go?" Hermione finally said when the suspense became too much for her. "To St. Mungo's?"
Snape slowly raised his gaze to meet hers. "I'm not certain I have a choice."
"You always have a choice."
"Not with you, it seems."
Not quite sure how to take that, Hermione tried to play it off with humor. "No, that's right," she said with a toss of her head. "I always get my way. So off to St. Mungo's with you! Or... " She hesitated as another possible complication occurred to her. "I'd like to be there when you wake up." If he wakes up, a pessimistic voice inside her warned. "To make sure everything's all right, and tell you what happened," she explained, trying to make it sound like merely professional interest. "You might not remember any of this, after all."
"I believe that visiting hours for St. Mungo's are long over," Snape said.
"Yes, so... you could stay here. I mean here, in this room. And I could sleep a bit. In the other room. Although I'm so keyed up, I'm not sure I can really sleep. But I could probably use the rest, since--"
"Professor Granger. You have the most annoying tendency to babble when you are unsure what to say."
Hermione closed her mouth, then began again at a more measured pace. "Yes, sorry. What I mean is: if you don't mind waiting a couple of hours, we could leave for the hospital at the same time in the morning. Just so I can make sure you arrive there safely."
Snape inclined his head slightly. "That sounds acceptable."
Hermione couldn't help smiling broadly. "Good. Then I'll... just go to bed now." She jerked her thumb in the direction of the other room.
"I will remain here."
"If you do feel yourself... fading away, like you do sometimes? Just remember to think, 'St. Mungo's'," she instructed him. "I wouldn't want you to get lost."
"No, indeed."
"Good night, then, Professor." Hermione started toward the bedroom.
"Good night."
Before she could say anything more foolish, Hermione hurried into the bedroom and pushed the door almost all the way closed, leaving a hand's breadth of space. Her body and mind buzzing from the night's events, and looking forward to the next day with both anticipation and a case of nerves as big as Slytherin's basilisk, it seemed an interminably long time until the morning.
======
At around four in the morning, Hermione, weary from tossing and turning in her bed, and determining that sleep would be impossible that night, sat up with the intention of going out and seeing if Snape were still there. It seemed ridiculous that she should be exiled in her room whilst he remained out in the living room, unable to recline or rest himself.
As soon as she pushed the covers back, though, she noticed a shadow momentarily block the faint light coming in through the partly open bedroom door.
"Professor?" she said softly. "Is that you?"
The shadow stopped. "Yes," he answered in a likewise quiet voice. "I am sorry, I did not mean to disturb you."
"I wasn't able to sleep anyway," she said, propping herself up in bed. "Come in."
"I am here," his voice said from somewhere near her.
Hermione startled a bit at the realization that had probably been in the bedroom longer than just the past few moments. "Have you been here the whole time?"
"No," he answered, although there was something evasive in his response.
"But you were in here, just now-- before I spoke to you."
There was silence for a few seconds, before he admitted, "Yes."
Hermione was silent in return.
"I apologize," he said stiffly, "I did not mean to take liberties. I thought you asleep."
"I wasn't able to sleep. Did you... Have you been in here often? On other nights? When I was sleeping?"
"Rarely. I usually ... left: involuntarily ... not long after you would retire. In reflecting on what we have now discovered about my state, I believe I also ... fell asleep during those hours, my spirit returning to my body for rest."
"And the other times? You did watch me sleeping, didn't you?"
"I couldn't actually see anything," Snape said, and Hermione could hear the sneer in his voice even if she couldn't see it on his face through the darkness. "I am not a lecherous old man entertaining fantasies over your lifeless form."
"I didn't say you were. I mean, it's a bit creepy... but I think I understand. It must have been lonely and boring, being stuck here in the dark for hours on end and not able to leave or do anything."
"As you say. There were moments, when the window-picture was very dark, when I didn't know whether I was still here, or had drifted into some limbo. Hearing you breathe enabled me to maintain my orientation."
"And?" Hermione asked, grinning. "Do I snore?"
"No," he said, sounding affronted at being called on to answer such a ridiculous question.
"I'm going to turn up the lights a bit. I don't think either of us is going to get any more sleep tonight." With a brief command, the level of illumination increased to a dim twilight. She was now able to see Snape standing near her, and mentally checked her state of dress. Finding it acceptable and unlikely to arouse his sensibilities, she pulled the covers up around herself like a nest and made herself comfortable.
"I would offer you a seat, but--"
"I do not suffer from physical weariness in this state," Snape informed her.
"We could go into the other room, but it's just more comfortable for me here. You don't mind, do you?"
"I find the sight of you in my bed no longer as disturbing as it was initially."
"Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd hear you say."
Snape glared at her. "Do not assume that--"
Hermione held up a hand, laughing. "All right, it's all right, don't worry. I'll take that to mean you're getting used to the idea that this is no longer your room, at least for this school year. And, strangely, I don't find the sight of you in my bedroom as disturbing as I did initially." She silently dared him to pick up on that, shocked at her own audacity in flirting with Severus Snape.
"When I am back in my body, I can assure you there will be no need to replicate the situation."
Shame, Hermione found herself thinking automatically, accompanied by a swooping feeling in her stomach. But she said, "So you are going back to your body. I'm glad," and smiled out of genuine happiness.
"We shall see, at least, what happens," he said. "Am I to understand that you wish to spend the remaining hours until St. Mungo's opens in conversation?"
"Unless you have a better suggestion?" she asked, trying to obliterate any hint of sauciness from her remark.
Snape looked as if he were considering a retort of some kind, but instead, after a few seconds, said, "No. But perhaps we could discuss something of substance."
"By all means," Hermione readily agreed, glad to move away from the slippery footing of negotiating the terms of their relationship and onto the solid ground of scientific inquiry. "I would be interested to hear of any projects you were working on before your ... non-death."
And so they were able to pass the remaining time until the sun rose, with Hermione gently plying Snape with what she hoped were innocuous questions on topics of a non-personal nature, which nevertheless interested her. He spoke at first as if he were giving a lecture, obviously unused to the give-and-take of a genuine conversation, but as the clock crept toward the end of their adventure, he paused more often to listen to Hermione's opinions and thoughts; or perhaps he was merely growing weary, and his mental faculties were lagging.
When the light from the window-picture in the next room became greater than the dimness in the bedroom, Hermione stretched and suggested they might start getting ready. St. Mungo's would open at 8 am to visitors.
Snape withdrew to the living room to give Hermione privacy for washing and getting dressed. As she did so, one issue kept circling around in her mind and wouldn't let her go: would Snape remember this episode, and all that had passed between them? She was coming to regard him as a friend, one whom she didn't want to lose. She didn't know if it would be possible for them to regain the fragile trust and bridge of understanding that they had built up over the past week, if he had no memory of what had happened. She also felt it was important, for his sake -- for his mental recovery -- that he remember. If he woke up to the world he knew only from before, one where he had no friends nor even allies, where he was vilified by most and tolerated, at best, by only a few... he might curse everyone who had a part in saving him, and perhaps worse.
"Well, I think I'm ready," Hermione said as she emerged from the bedroom, putting on a bright face. "Before we go, though, there's something I want to talk to you about."
Snape groaned. "Haven't you done enough talking for one night? I am so tired I believe I would find my way back to my body without even trying."
"That's good, and we'll be off in just a minute. I want to be sure, though... I want you to remember. I want you to remember everything we talked about, and all the people who want you back. Everyone who helped you."
Snape's lip curled. "Why? So that you may all collect on a wizard's debt?"
"No!" Hermione exclaimed, hurt that he would even think such a thing. "I have no claim over you; if anyone did, it would be Luna and her father, but they would never hold that over you. I doubt they would even think of it, unless you brought it up.
"I just want you to know... Here, I know this is silly, but I couldn't think of anything better." She held up a sparkling hair pin, the one she'd used to test Luna's cork. "This is to remind you that you have friends you can count on. I know you can't take it now, and you'd probably refuse to take it even if you could. But as soon as I get to St. Mungo's, I'm going to put this in your hand, your real hand. Then when you wake up... maybe it will jog something in your memory." Hermione busied herself with stowing the hair pin in her pocket, afraid of seeing Snape's derision and contempt for her foolish sentimentality.
As he did not answer, Hermione, embarrassed but determined, went to her fireplace and stirred the embers until a small fire had rekindled itself. "St. Mungo's, then, Professor," she said, louder than was necessary, and finally dared to look up at him. "I'll be there."
He was watching her, impassive as always, but when their eyes met, he gave her a slight nod.
She grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the jar on the mantel and threw it into the fire, causing a rush of green flames to flare up. "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries!" she cried out as she stepped in. As the room spun away, she caught one last glimpse of Snape, raising one hand to her in salutation.
