Long time no see, hm? (: Don't know why I wrote this...just did. I think it was for a friend. Not sure though.
PLEASE GO TAKE THE TIME TO VOTE IN MY POLL! It will tell me what story you'd like me to update the most. :D

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters mentioned here, or Harry Potter. Sadly.

. x walk away x .
.oneshot.

The sun was peeking through the window, pouring onto their pale skins and only being shielded by the thin slice of white curtain hanging amidst it, although it was quickly disappearing itself. Hermione glanced at the clock; it was nearing six thirty. The sunset was coming so much sooner these days, and she couldn't help but feel more anxious as the seconds ticked by. It was as if the long, cruel time slipping through her grasp was only speaking for those who could not. Her mind was a constant worry; was he okay? Was he fighting? Was he alive? The sixth year sitting in the room sighed as her chocolate hues averted from the window, an overcast shadowing her face and barely missing the sparkle in her brown eyes.

She'd tried for so long, oh so long, to get them to rethink their decision. 'Harry,' She'd said, staring into his green eyes with her melting chocolate ones, 'Harry, this is stupid, irrational and…stupid!' It was the first time in her life she'd never had another word to say. 'You can't do this! Think of all who you're leaving behind…Ron, Cho, Neville, Collin, me, even DRACO, Harry, will miss you! You can't do this…' She kept repeating herself, and even though she was trying to bang it into his head, the glue just didn't want to stick. 'Voldemort will kill you, Harry. He will kill you.'

Of course he'd argued back, if only for her sake. Maybe to help her not worry as much? As if! Hermione was going to worry no matter what the case and…She gasped. You'll worry no matter what, Hermione. He'd said that hadn't he? She found herself smiling; Harry always knew her the best.

And maybe that was what was so depressing. She couldn't expect Ron to hold a decent conversation with her. That is, not unless she felt in the mood to talk about the latest Quidditch match or his sour foot fungus.

So, now here she was, sitting in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, spending her days volunteering and hoping to get the thought of Harry out there fighting off her mind. Granted, it never worked, and granted, she knew from the beginning it would never work, but what use was she sitting in her dorm wallowing over her self? At least here she could be a helping hand to Madame Pomfrey who never had anyone besides her self handling any of the work. And no matter how many times the old woman would scold Hermione and tell her that her time was better well spent doing her homework in her dorm and socializing with her friends, a persistent Hermione would always argue otherwise and always win. Maybe those two boys she spent all her time with were finally rubbing off on her…

Ugh, can't I just sit in peace without thinking of them for five minutes?! The sixteen year old let her brunette covered head fall into the palm on her hand, butt resting comfortably against one of the few empty walls of the wing. The rest were covered in unused, perfectly made beds that Hermione had done her self in the muggle old fashioned way. There weren't too many students these days heading in to see Madame Pomfrey, and Hermione wasn't sure weather to thank the Heavens for that or to consider it a bad thing (she certainly hoped Pompy's pay wasn't based solely on that, at least). Of course, that had an explanation, as did everything else. Ever since the rules of Hogwarts had been upped ten notches, kids hadn't been feeling to need to run about and get their noses burnt off by the stock of Firecrabs Hagrid left out too often, much less make up a reasonable, believable excuse as to why their stomach was hurting. Hermione frowned; maybe it was her who was scaring the kids off.

Either way, this side of the school for wizardry wasn't getting any attention at all, and it was leaving a very unhappy, depressed Hermione to be a very unhappy, depressed, bored Hermione. So, once again, the young, teenage witch let a sigh escape her thin lips and left her mind to wander about the terrains of Harry's safety. All was going how it normally did in her every day life until a small (and by small she meant Earth shaking small) quake of the ground left her stumbling for balance. Hearing the slam of hard wood against stone, she craned her head towards the doorway of the hospital wing entrance, hand still out as she tried to steady herself.

"Hermione dear, Hermione!" The frantic voice of Madame Pomfrey called into the once silent air, and Hermione felt herself jump, "Hermione, please get my wand…I do believe I left it next to my desk…" The plump, normally happy sounding woman was giving Hermione quite a fright. She never left this part of the castle (or anywhere for that matter) without her wand, why would she choose now to forget it? Not in the mood for solving riddles, Hermione dashed quickly into her office, taking no time in letting her orbs sweep the room thoroughly. Now where was that thing?

A couple minutes later had Hermione holding said wooden wand in hand, her other freehand lifting to brush locks of slightly curly brown out of her eyes way. Shuffling from the tornado-looking-induced office, she ran over towards the mumbling, panicky voice of Madame Pomfrey, arm outstretched.

"Here you are," She said with little breath, bending over to catch said breath before she passed out. The wand was ripped straight from her hand without care or hesitation and if only made Hermione more confused. She'd realized that she'd been so quick in heading to Madame Pomfrey's office she hadn't taken the time to notice who it was she'd been so rushed about saving. Feelings of hope and pure anxiousness fuelled her adrenaline as her mind raced with thoughts that it could be Harry back from Voldemort, waiting to be nursed back to health again before returning to school just like all the other times. Unfortunately, those hopes were crushed when her indescribable chocolate hues collided with an even darker shade, whose were most definitely not the bright emerald she had been causing her heartbeat to eradicate for.

"Professor Snape…?"

"Hermione!"

The voice snapped her attention from the misty eyes back to Madame Pomfrey, who was sitting at the once white bed side (now stained a bright crimson), a very clear 'what the Hell are you doing?' look occupying her face. Hermione, realizing she must have been trying to get her attention for quite some time, apologized with a small breath of air and listened for instructions, albeit her eyes now rested upon the large gash in the man's side. How much blood had he lost? What had caused this? Was he going to live? A thousand questions ran throughout her mind, spiraling in and out as her eyes quivered with unshed tears. Not another to add to the list…

"Severus?" Madame Pomfrey questioned, and Hermione had to remind herself that the man who taught her potions every single day had a first name.

A grunt came in response, then a mumble, and it seemed after a few seconds he gathered enough energy to speak, "I just need…a small…blood rejuvenation potion…"

The plump woman holding her wand at the ready scoffed heavily before shaking her head in disdain, "Did something lodge itself into your head, too?" She spoke in her thick accent, cocking a brow incredulously at the potions teacher, "Tell me though, what is that shoved in your side there? Looks a bit rusty…I need to get rid of it before I can do anything else."

Snape's already pale face went white at the ghosting of her fingertips against the wound and tried to speak, successfully (or not) getting out sentence fragments, "Piece of…cauldron…was…making potion…went wrong…"

Hermione was sure she and Pompy could figure out the rest. Swallowing a lump in her throat, it took Hermione a moment to realize she hadn't taken a breath in a long while. Savoring the air surrounding her, she fiddled with her fingers, not entirely sure what to do.

"You look horrible," Madame Pomfrey said, and Hermione could see the look on Snape's face speaking for him, 'No shit lady, I just had a cauldron explode and a piece shoot into my side, you dumb bitch', but Hermione tried not to think of her Professor saying that. He'd probably have some snooty, snide remark rather than that unintelligent insult, anyhow. Those boys she liked to call friends really were getting into her vocabulary…

So while Hermione busied her self fantasizing silly conversations between the potions master and others, Madame Pomfrey went to work on deciding just what to do with Severus Snape. It didn't take long (just maybe a few giggles from Hermione's end of the line) for the hospital wing director to decide what to do, "He's in dire need of removal…and I can't do anything else for him until it's finished! We're running out of time here so I have no choice but to do it the old fashioned way…"

Hermione's face went pale at the sentence. She'd have to do it the old fashioned way? That usually meant the muggle way; and the most painful. Swallowing another lump that managed to force its way into her throat, she shuffled in her spot, not entirely sure what to do or even if Madame Pomfrey wanted her there at all.

"Hermione dear," She began, scuttling over to the nearest sink and grabbing a wash cloth. She dabbed it in water then slobbered it with alcohol (at least that's what Hermione assumed; it smelled like such) and felt herself cringe. She'd remembered that foul odor as a child; she remembered the sting that came from the contact of it upon her skin. And to think, here Severus was with a giant gash upon his side while she as a child only suffered mild scratches. He was going to be in for the worst night of his life.

Apparently Madame Pomfrey could figure this small tidbit out as well because the next thing Hermione knew, Pompy had asked her to take a hold of Snape's hand. The sixth year yielded her with wary eyes, her body instantly backing up some. Hold a teacher's hand, much less Snape's? Was this even appropriate?

"Hermione, please!" Madame Pomfrey scolded, shooing her over to the dark haired professor's side with a wave of her arms, "He needs to stay calm, and the only thing that will keep him from writhing in pain after this will be the hold of your hand. I'd do it myself but…" Her bright eyes cast downwards towards the alcohol bottle in her hands and the bleeding, gaping hole in Snape's body. Hermione received the message and meekly nodded her head, carefully and hesitantly reaching out to take the potion's master's hand in between her own. She watched the dark hues placed into his skull narrow slightly and darken (if at all possible) and had to restrain a gasp from escaping her throat. Was she making him uncomfortable?

"It's going to be okay, Sevvy," Madame Pomfrey whispered in a soothing voice, almost as if she was talking to a child, and Hermione resisted another urge, this time to give her an odd look, "It will all be fine, just squeeze Hermione's hand and take deep breaths…" Snape had to have been in a lot of pain to survive such torturing, humiliating words.

Madame Pomfrey began to remove some shredded articles of his robe that had been completely annihilated during the blow and winced along with Hermione as Snape flinched at the ripping of his skin. Hermione was sure the alcohol was going to be next, but after the chubby woman shrugged the bottle to the side and began reaching for his wound, Hermione's eyes widened.

Hermione should have braced herself, she realized. As soon as Madame Pomfrey's fingers curled around the potions master's cauldron piece standing erect from his side, he let a howl rip free from his throat, surprising Hermione when the windows didn't shatter. Some portraits in the normally quiet place raised their hands to cover their ears, and Hermione would have too had her hand not been in between Snape's—currently being squeezed to death.

But even through the howling, the ripping of flesh, and the searing smell of alcohol, nothing compared to the look in Snape's eyes after he tilted his head towards hers. Hermione felt her breath snag in her throat. Eyes brimming with tears, Snape clenched his jaw, his melted chocolate orbs hooking themselves on her own lighter chocolate hues, never leaving as his hand continued to squeeze hers, the pressure rising occasionally. He looked so…Hermione struggled for a word. Helpless? She had a hard time pinning the word on someone such as Snape; he was normally so strong, full of himself, and most definitely not cowardly. Why was such a wound affecting him so horribly?

His hand squeezed hers again, and Hermione felt the heart beating in her chest jump. Not having time to think or consider the butterflies swarming around her stomach, she watched the raven haired male intently before he let loose another howl, almost rivaling Remus'. Hermione offered a small, reassuring smile before she subconsciously began rubbing her thumb in circles on the man's hand, her voice lowering to the same child-like tone Madame Pomfrey had used earlier.

"It'll be okay, Severus," The name she was calling him was not registering, and all she was concerned about was making the man breath steady, "It will all be okay, just relax…" Other calming words relating to the word okay were used before the man began breathing normally again. The piece of cauldron was almost gone, and she made a point to tell Severus that twice, if not a thousand more times.

A few more soothing, loving tones later, the fragment was removed completely and Hermione let her own breathing head back to normal. Snape had passed out, but he was safe. For now. Madame Pomfrey confirmed it as she wiped the small sweat drops on her upper brows, talking of how he would wake up soon, but the concern still left in her eyes made the worry rush through Hermione's veins once more. Her teeth worried her bottom lip intently, and as she glanced from the school nurse to Snape, then back again, she found herself praying. Praying to Jesus, to Merlin, to Buddha, what ever God was up there, that he would just be okay. That tomorrow, when she arrived at her potions class, he would be there, in front of the class, ready to make the session into something terribly sarcastic. That he would dread calling on her and would roll his eyes. It was the first time she'd wished for that.

"He will be okay, right?" Hermione tried to sound strong, but her voice was faltering and she knew that it didn't dare sound close enough to what she was trying to conceive, "He'll…" She struggled especially with the next word, "Live?"

Madame Pomfrey scrunched up her face, and for a few moments just stared at Hermione as if she were debating why the girl was still here in the first place. Finally, after a few more anxious moments of silence, the nurse gave her a small, reassuring smile, and spoke in a rather motherly, knowing tone, "So quick to fall, aren't you?" And then she waddled away.

Hermione was about to call after her, almost offended that she hadn't answered her question and instead responded with one of her own, but her jaw was stopped from moving any closer to opening as the disgruntled sound of Severus' awakening caused her to flicker her hues towards him. Instantly at his side once more, she bent down onto her knees and intertwined her hand with his again, eyes wide and awaiting. He stirred silently for a few minutes, then his coal black eyes began to slide upwards, the world finally registering to him as the sun caused him to blink. Hermione felt herself smile and she tilted her head, growing closer to him and causing some of her curls to fall onto his chest.

"Severus," She whispered, astonished, "You're awake. How do you feel?" She was hoping he'd show her some gratitude, and maybe, for once, utter a small thank you. She was hoping, as horrible as her mind perceived it, that he would smile for her, squeeze her hand in a different way than he had been when he was in pain. That would be all she needed, to know that maybe it wasn't Harry's life she was saving, but she had saved someone's.

It took a few more moments for the potions teacher to realize who was speaking to him. Head turning towards her, his eyes went wide and his body rigid, almost as if this was the first time he'd clearly known who had been comforting him. Hermione stared back, confused.

"Miss Granger…" He spat her name out like a fowl tasting food, his face contorting into disgust, "What are you doing here?"

Hermione felt her heart, her heart that had been growing in size at the mere thought of his thank you, almost quite literally burst in her chest. A terrible pain was sent throughout it, and as she inched back as the dreaded moments continued on, she felt her eyes begin to well with ready-to-be-shed tears. Her teeth were worrying her bottom lip again, this time a bit harder than before, as she glanced down to their hands. He had not taken his own hues off hers, and a few seconds after her glance, he stole one as well.

His eyes began wider, his jaw going slack as if he were horrified. Hermione didn't need any more words to flow from his mouth. She waited no longer and ripped her grip from his, pulling her hand to her chest and rubbing it with the untouched one, eyes not daring to meet his. A scarlet blush inflamed her cheeks and she found herself backing up from the white hospital bed, voice stammering as she struggled for something to say.

"I-I-I'm s-sorry," Her teeth were clicking together more than they had on the coldest day traveling to Hogsmeade, "I…Madame Pomfrey…asked me to w-watch--" Severus started to rise from the bed, lips formed in a perfect upside down u. He grabbed his wand from the side table and muttered a small spell, which Hermione assumed to be a healing charm. "Hey! What are you d-doing?! Y-you can't get u-up--"

"I will do whatever I please, Miss Granger," He growled through clenched teeth, and as Hermione stared into his eyes, she was reminded of a blinding, furious flame, "Now if you will excuse me."

He shoved her roughly to the side as if she didn't matter. She caught herself on the bed, eyes following his limping body. She was lost without any words to say, intelligent ones, anyways. Managing to right herself again, it didn't take long for her walking to follow the raven haired potions teacher, her frustration now getting the better of her. He should be laying down, resting, getting better.

"Snape, please, lay back down."

He was silent as he continued to hobble towards the door, wincing occasionally at the pain that would tear through his side. Oh no, she was no going to let him walk away. Hermione Granger never let anyone walk away from her.

"Snape, I'm only going to ask nicely once more. Lay back down."

He seemed amused by her now authority-like tone of voice, eyes dancing with said amusement, his eyes flickering back to her but out of her vision. However, he continued. Hermione felt her rage grow, overpowering her lady-like charm.

"Severus Snape!" She roared, causing him to pause at the unfamiliar sound of his full name, especially used by one of his students, "How dare you be so unkind as to offend Madame Pomfrey like this! She worked her…" No matter how angry Hermione was, she could not bring herself to cuss, "Bottom off to make you healthy again! To keep you ALIVE. Do you know how many people would love to be standing in your shoes right now? Alive? Well? Living? Safe?" She narrowed her eyes hatefully, although hate was not an emotion running through her veins, just pent up frustration, "How much I wish I could give your luck to those out there, fighting, risking their lives with more than just a stupid potion?!" She could feel the tears sliding down her rosy red cheeks now as her hand were clenched at her sides, "You are so lucky, Severus, and you can't even bring yourself to mutter me a small thank you for helping keep you alive!" She was furious. No, that wasn't even a strong enough word for her at the moment. Too many different emotions were running through her blood, soaring throughout it and burning her with a fiery passion. Her eyes stayed on his turned form before she let a loud 'UGH' rip from her throat and stormed from the room like a small child.

She hadn't known what she expected. That wasn't entirely true, she realized. She expected him to be thankful, to appreciate his life a little more, to appreciate those around him a little more. She expected him to at least thank her, but his pride had become too large over the years to allow that to happen. She should have expected that instead. What she had been expecting she should have realized were silly dreams, bent on never coming true. It was not worth it. He was not worth it. Nothing would ever be worth it.

She let the waves of tears flow freely as she stormed through the empty hallways, not planning on going to class. She in no shape or form felt like dealing with muggle history at the moment. Yelling to herself in discontent, she lifted her arm and fist, preparing to shatter the nearby mirror she was passing.

However, her blow was stopped by a cold, thin-fingered hand, gripping itself around her thin wrist. Her mouth flew open, ready to scream while her free hand went straight towards her pocket for her wand, but almost immediately the owner of the hand seemed to anticipate such acts. The hand that was holding her wrist flew away and covered her mouth, muffling her scream while the owner's other hand grabbed her hand diving for her pocket, pinning it, and her other arm, to the wall. She was now face forward against a wall in a rather dark corridor, someone's chest pressed against her back. From the feeling, it was obvious it was not a woman, and she was even more sure as soon as the voice spoke.

"Like I said, I can do whatever I want, Miss Granger," He stressed the syllables of her name, and she could feel his breath along her neck, his hands like heaters against her freezing skin, "And you will do nothing of it."

She was flipped around, and before she could have a chance at retaliation, his lips were on hers, lighting the rest of her body with warmth. Hermione felt her eyes slide shut after a few moments, and even a few more after that, she felt her wrists being released as a hand cupped her cheek. Her arms unconsciously slid their way up his chest, admiring the feel of taut muscles beneath her fingertips. Her head tilted to the side as they both simultaneously deepened the kiss, Hermione's arms wrapping themselves around his thin neck.

He fought for dominance, his other hand tangling itself in her bushes of curls. Hermione fought back just as well, her body pressing against his, although he had her successfully pinned to the wall. He had to have known how dangerous this was. He had to have known just what was at stake. And he had to have known he would ruin his pride by saying what he said next.

As the small, miniscule "thank you" was uttered from his lips (which were now just centimeters from hers), his breath hitting her in small pants, his chest against her heaving one, his skin on her skin, Hermione decided, maybe it was worth it.

And she let him walk away. Just this once.