Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters/situations you recognize. They belong to their rightful owners, I'm only borrowing them. I am making no money off of this, and never will.

Hermione Granger sat next to Ronald Weasley in the Great Hall, eyeing the whole scene. Voldemort had just been killed, the jubilee and fanfare finished. Every person in the Great Hall was mourning someone. It was quite depressing, and in ten years' time, they'll look back on it and realise just how much it was. Already, the sobs had stopped; no one had the energy or strength to make a noise. But, there were a few people, like Ron and Hermione, which sat on benches with loved ones, relishing in the fact they were still alive. They might have lost someone, or many, but they must be thankful for the ones that were left. The Weasleys were sad, yes. But, while the pain had yet to pass, they had each other, telling funny stories about Fred or ironic ones about Remus and Tonks.

Everyone was concerned about Harry, naturally. Hermione and Ron, not knowing the entire story, let Harry tell it for them. He left out nothing, not even Snape's memories. They were crucial. McGonagall led him to the Hospital Wing, Pomfrey followed, not letting anyone else in. He was still being evaluated when Ron spoke.

"I suppose they're afraid that something broke him inside," He told Hermione knowingly.

Hermione, her normal, talkative-self quieted, didn't reply. Of course she knew, but to hear it all told so bluntly... By a boy that should still be a boy. A person who had just finished the fight of his life... And having to relive it all so soon…

"'Mione? Are you okay?"

"Yes. It's just a bit of a shock."

"I wonder if we're gonna have to bring Snape up," he muttered to himself after a pause.

"Snape… Merlin, Ronald! He's just lying there. We should go get him," she said, standing up. Noticing that Ron wasn't following, she turned around. "Are you coming?"

"I'm not touching him. He's all… dead and cold and stiff." He shrugged his shoulders.

Hermione sighed. He really could be an idiot sometimes. Seeing (and hearing) this, he blushed. "Fine…"

"Good. We don't even have to touch him. We are magical, after all."

"Immobulus," Hermione casted at the Whomping Willow, the fastest way to get to The Shrieking Shack. The tree calmed and froze, allowing them passage.

"I don't see why we have to do this. He was a bloody git."

"Because, Ron…" she trailed. She really didn't know why she felt the need to bring him to the castle. His body would only make people more fretful… and he was an immense rotter. "Regardless of what we think of him, he was a friend of Dumbledore's. He did us a great deed. This is the only way we can repay him."

Creak.

"What was that?" Ron asked, getting his "I-hate-spiders" face on. There were still Death Eaters out there, they weren't entirely gone yet, and they were Potter's friends. If they were caught, they would be killed.

"I don't know," she whispered. Scared or not, she was still on her mission, and determined to finish it. "Let's just keep quiet. No more talking."

They quickly reached the interior of the Shack, doing their best to keep their footsteps light and fast. What they found surprised them.

There, on the floor was Snape's body. Alive body. He had moved himself up against the wall, sitting. There was still so much blood leaking out of him. It had slowed, but not stopped. His eyes were closed, but his head swiveled just a bit. His breathing was ragged, and doing that must have been painful.

"Sir," she said. She ran to his side. Trying to stop some of the bleeding, she picked a wound and put pressure on it with her hands.

"Finally," he croaked out, quietly.

"Sir," she started again. He knew he was dying, she was sure of it. And that's what led her to what she said next. "We'll bring your body to the Great Hall."

He said nothing, but it seemed to Hermione that he sighed. She could imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose, with a headache threatening to start.

"Dumbledore's office," he finally said. He breathing slowed, still rough.

"What-about-it?" she asked quickly.

"Thirteen turns."

"What's he talking about, 'Mione?"

"But, sir? Thirteen turns? Nobody's ever gone back that far."

"Do it." His eyes opened and stared into hers. His breathing got slower… and finally it stopped. She felt for a pulse, in any place she could think of, but could find none.

"Let's get him up to the castle." She stood and wiped her bloody hands on her jeans. "Wingardium Leviosa."

Everybody stared as Hermione, Ron, and the recently deceased Severus Snape walked (and floated) into the Hall. Hermione carried him to an empty spot. Even in death, he would want to be alone, she thought. They all turned their heads away from the former headmaster.

Ron moved towards his family, Hermione beside him. Once there, he sat down beside a sleeping George, but Hermione moved on.

"'Mione? Where are you going?"

"To his office."

"Since when do you care?"

"Ronald, he was my professor, and that was his dying wish. And besides, he called it Dumbledore's office, not his. That has to mean something, right?"

"Go ahead."

Hermione spun around, stalked out of the Hall, and straight to the Hospital Wing.

Harry will want to know.

A.N - I'm American, but I thought I'd try the British spellings. If I get anything wrong (British spellings, word usage, and the likes) please feel free to let me know. All reviews are welcome (even the criticizing ones). It's been a while since I've read the books, so there's probably going to be some things wrong. Again, feel free to tell me.

Also, a thank you to my lovely best friend for beta-ing and letting me bounce ideas off her. She's pretty awesome.

By the way, this is my first fanfic. Just thought you ought to know