A/N: Belongs to JK, of course. This is...sad. Obviously. I don't know how I feel about it though. I may have went a little bit overboard with the ages though? Oh well.
I'm kinda unsure about this, so reviews would be appreciated.
They were old. Old, even for wizards and witches. Their glory days had come and gone, and their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren were getting older too. There was nothing left to do but live peacefully, calmly, and bide their time.
Hermione had lived a peaceful life. She'd married Ron, had two kids. Had five grandkids, 16 great-grandkids. Had way too many nieces and nephews to count. Successful? Yes. Happy? Definitely. However, the time had come to let go. Ron had already gone ahead of her, her kids were living in Godric's Hollow, and hadn't come to see her today.
The smell of the long term elderly care ward in St. Mungos smelled of death. She had almost forgotten what the smell had been. Almost. You never quite forget that, though. And now it was everywhere. All day, every day. She had never known that growing old could have been quite as bad as a battle field. Other than death, it reeked of piss. She was in the best wizarding hospital in the world, and it still reeked of piss and death.
She wasn't afraid to die. She had made her peace with death a hundred and ninety years prior, when she had prepared for battle. But now she was just tired. And stubborn. As stubborn as she's ever been. She didn't want to die. She felt that things were left undone. Something wasn't right, and she couldn't leave. Not yet. So she bided her time, and held on. The nurses had thought that she wouldn't last month, six months, a year. But she had been here for almost a year and a half.
She rationed her breaths, breathing slowly and trying to cherish them. She knew the end was coming, and hoped against hope, that she would draw out her last breaths as long as possible; whether it be hours, days, or weeks. She watched the EKG on the screen rise and fall, willing her heart to hold out a bit longer.
She knew that she was in the part of the ward that was meant for saying goodbyes. And now she was waiting for one. Her children and grand children had made their peace with her impending departure from this world. She had no one left to say goodbye.
Severus walked slowly up the stairs to St. Mungos. He knew he was well past his expiration date. He should have died in the war. He should have died fifty years ago. He shouldn't have outlived his students. But here he was, still going. He knew the end was near, he could feel it in his bones. Or maybe that was just the arthritis. But he wanted it to be near. He wanted to be done with this world. He didn't care what came or didn't come afterwards, but he was finished here.
Or almost finished. He had left someone behind, 180 years ago. He had left his last love, crying in on the steps of Hogwarts. He knew she deserved better. Deserved to be happy. That didn't mean that it didn't break his heart. Every day it did. But she had been happy. She had lived the life that he knew she was meant to. The life he couldn't have given her. He'd have never forgiven himself if he'd held her back. He knew she was the best, most wholesome, truthful thing to ever happen to him. And he appreciated that. He appreciated the time they had together. Never regretted falling in love with her. But he'd never stopped loving her. And now it was time to say goodbye again.
He sat in the waiting room, enjoying the forced alone time to gather his thoughts. He didn't know what he would say. He might cry. No. He wouldn't cry. Severus Snape did not cry. Except very late at night, after a lot of alcohol. Then maybe, sometimes, rarely, he would cry. Regardless, he was, for the first time in his life, without words. He picked up the year old magazine in front of him, and flipped through it idly. He decided that hell was this waiting room, in this moment. Lost, with only stark white walls and the smell of piss to comfort you. And all you can do is think about who's behind that door. He felt like fleeing. Getting up and running away. Crawling into his bed and never coming back, maybe having one of those rare crying nights.
But he couldn't. He got up and started pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. There was nothing to stop him or distract him. Until finally, a nurse came and fetched him. "Professor Snape" he cringed at the name, realizing that this nurse was probably well above 100, and he had taught her. So many students had come and gone. But that was neither here nor there. He followed her through the corridor and to the last door on the left. She left him to enter the room on his own, and he slowly opened the door.
Hermione looked away from her EKG, still counting the seconds for her breaths when he walked in. She hadn't expected him, of course she hadn't, and she lost count of her seconds. She started breathing heavier. Normally, probably, but to her it was as if she was hyperventilating. Why was he here? What did he want? He had left her, years and years ago, crying on the Hogwarts steps. He claimed that he couldn't give her what she wanted. But couldn't he tell? He was all she wanted. Nothing more, nothing less. But he didn't see it. So he let her go. Or pushed her away. And she loved her life. With Ron. With her children, of course she had been happy. But that doesn't mean that she hadn't wondered what it would have been like with him. With dark haired children with dark eyes instead of wild red heads with green eyes.
He looked her over, concerned and with an indecipherable expression. He stood in the doorframe awkward, but couldn't budge. She just looked at him, with an equally unreadable expression.
"Hermione." It was barely a whisper.
"Severus." She whispered back.
He approached her bedside. He grasped her hand, trying to convey everything he couldn't tell her. His thoughts were crowding inside his head, each one trying to escape on its own. She looked old he thought. But she was still beautiful. As always. But she didn't have much longer, and he knew it. When he looked at her, he knew that she knew it too. She spoke first.
"Severus" a pause, then "I was waiting for something. I can't believe it didn't occur to me that I was waiting for you."
He felt the lump forming in his throat. Getting bigger and bigger. A century of built up emotion, writhing to get out.
"Hermione", he stroked her face. "I've missed you" was all he could come up with. And somehow those words conveyed everything. How he was sorry, he loved her, he regretted letting her go, but understood she was happy, how beautiful she still is to him. But mostly, how much he'd loved her. Loves her.
Her expression told him she understood. She broke into a smile, large as it used to be. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she started crying. He'd loved her. Missed her. Wanted her. She was too old to have regrets, but at that moment, she wondered more than she had ever in her life whether or not she had made the right choice.
"Will you stay?" she asked, her voice small.
"Of course" he replied, not entirely certain what her request meant.
"Until the end?" she had continued. And then he knew.
He pulled up a chair to her bedside, and took her hand once again. He wouldn't leave. Of course he wouldn't. He'd left her once, never again.
The day transpired quietly. She told him about her family, her life after…after him. He told her about Hogwarts. He'd never left. And he'd never changed. That night, he kissed her lightly on the lips, and told her to get some sleep. She knew she wouldn't open her eyes once she did. She felt complete. Content. She knew that he'd loved her all along. And a part of her that was missing, fell into place. And she closed her eyes.
It was midnight when the monitor started beeping. The noise that meant a flatline. He jumped up torn between what to do, and was suddenly thrown out of the way by nurses and healers rushing to save her. They tried. And they tried again. And a third time. But that flat line had stayed. That irritating flat line, and that irritating beeping noise. That noise that meant she was gone. He knew that it would happen, but he couldn't bring himself to accept it. Once she was back in his life, she was gone. Silent tears ran down his face as he stood in the corner. Mourning her and the life they could have had together. The life they didn't. He'd never been more sure of his feelings for her. Love is watching someone die. And he loved her, strongly and steadfastly as he watched her die, and watched a part of him die with her. He'd never stop loving her, even as he died alone in his house in Spinners End, she was the last thought on his mind.