It was not simply the words that had struck her – but something far more than that. In all the time she had known the man, all her misgivings about him – they were all wrong. And for the first time – she was pleased to experience that sensation.

"I'm sorry, for everything that I've done."

It had been hard – snake bites were always "hard" but ones to the neck particularly brutal. Thankfully Harry had grabbed Madam Pomfrey when he did, and Snape had been saved – though not everyone appreciated this turn of events; seeing Harry and Snape reconcile had lifted a weight on her shoulders

Harry walked into the room as soon as he was able, the healers of St. Mungo's had kept the whole wing shut down due to the influx of patients – but the critical patients were to be left alone. But for Harry – he needed to see him – this man.

"No questions just yet Mr. Potter." The healer said softly, "He won't be able to – well he shouldn't – be talking for a few days yet until the magic has taken full effect. We also do not know if he is has suffered any psychological after effects – or any brain injuries from being unconscious."

"Psycho- what now?" Ron asked, looking at the healer and she smiled.

"She's muggle born Ron." Hermione answered. "She means we won't know if he has suffered any trauma that would prevent him from remembering it all, or if he will be left paralyzed."

"You must be Hermione Granger." The healer chuckled, nodding. "That's right. My parents are doctors in London."

"How did you avoid being caught?" Ron asked, genuine concern and distrust etched into his voice.

"I graduated Hogwarts before I was married. I married went from Sophie Hinkle to Sofia Bennet. I worked with some of the resistance in London. A team of us only just got here before you brought the injured to us."

Ron nodded, relaxing back into a more comfortable state as the healer walked them to Snape's room. She reminded Harry about the restrictions, and forbid the others from coming in – they could wait at the door or outside.

"I'll go see to Mum." Ron stated softly, putting his hand on Hermione's shoulder and giving her a squeeze. Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat – in the rush of the battle and his attention to the elves; she had kissed him. But the kiss was…not was she expected.

She didn't know what to expect – but it felt strange and unnatural. Her long time dream of kissing the boy she had been waiting for was over.

"I'll just wait at the door Harry." She said, offering a smile to her friend as he opened the door and approached the man laying on the bed. His black hair was a mass on the pillow – his eyes were shut and his lips were barely open. The sheets did not look as if they were moving with the rise and fall od his chest – and for a moment she wondered if the healer had made a mistake.

Yet as Harry sat gently on the side of the bed, the man's eyes opened; his lips parting as Harry said something inaudible.

Hermione could not help but think back to Ron; what did squeezing her shoulder mean? What was to happen now?

"He truly is a very brave man." The healer stated, and Hermione turned to look at the woman – thinking she had left long ago – and nodded. "When he woke up, he just whispering; I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I've done."

Hermione turned her gaze back to the room where Harry was sitting, reaching out and seemingly whipping a tear from Snape's eyes as it fell. She's right, Hermione thought, he is a very brave man.

Indeed, Hermione thought as she came up the hallway to his room. He is a very brave man. She had spent the day at the castle – helping with the repairs. The whole time those words – the very ones the healer had mentioned – ran around her brain. Harry had told them – each and every one of them – what Snape had done, his bravery and his selfless actions. He also spoke of Snape's apology, which may have shocked some of their friends and family – but Hermione was finally beginning to see him for who he was.

"I am in no need of medicine, you puffed up penguin." Snape snarled from his bed, his voice echoing out through the doorway as she approached. "I would rather die than drink a potion brewed by such …feeble hands."

"You just lie back Mr. Snape." The nurse was saying. "You'll be up and at it in no time." She was met with a grumbling noise as Hermione watched from the doorway.

He isn't going to change a bit. She thought as the nurse left, leaving Hermione to knock twice gently and enter the room; smiling happily at him as he glared at her.

"What are you doing in here?" Snape hissed, pulling the blanket up further as if he could hide the bandages around his neck. The wounds were healing – but to prevent any lasting tissue damage they had to be careful – plus with the hospital being pretty full up, the amount of potions being made did not yet meet the demand.

"I came to check on you." She replied, trying to keep her chipper attitude as her ex professor kept glaring at her as if she, and not Voldemort – had killed Lily Potter that day. "Harry says you are improving rapidly."

"Still following on Potter's coattails, -Miss- Granger." Snape stated sourly, "How…surprising." His voice was more gravely and hoarse than usual, so he lacked the projection that would normally send shivers down her spin – so Hermione had no fear of walking over and sitting on the edge of his bed as he continued to glare at her.

"You don't have to say such things anymore." Hermione stated gently. "I know you apologized to Harry, we all know about what you did." Lowering her eyes, Hermione felt the tears welling up in her eyes like they had done so many times before. "I'm sorry too." She whispered, trying to hold back the emotions she could really only ever show Harry; she had tried to hard to keep a lid on what she was feeling during the war. Some things couldn't be helped coming out now and again. "I should have known there was more to you than that. I should have at least tried to look for it."

She felt the pressure of fingers under her chin lifting her gaze up as Snape moved her head so slightly as to meet her gaze. His touch was not cold, not overly warm – clammy would have been the word that came to her mind if she could not help but be slightly transfixed by the tenderness in his gaze. His mouth was twisted – as if fighting whatever words were trying to escape – into a frown; while the emotions welling beneath the tender gaze were being channeled elsewhere, to a far safer location.

The man began to withdraw his hand, yet something within Hermione stopped him, taking his hand and holding it between her own; taking the liberty to kiss his fingers as they curled around her grip. She was shaking – and she did not realize it. With all the weight of death, she had never been truly able to to express joy on seeing them alive. Those she could speak to were still mourning the death of their loved ones. "I am so glad you did not die." Her voice came like a soft embrace, gentle yet powerful. There was no dishonesty in her words, the sheer vulnerability of her admission left him feeling disarmed. A swarm of memories seemed to bombard him;

Why did you do it Severus?

I'm sorry.

How could you?

I never meant to call you a Mudblood, it jus-

"Slipped out?"

"You will refrain from such emotional gestures." He snarled, pulling his hand away from her – forcing his eyes away from the expression; the parted lips, the vibration of shock through her eyes, hurt forming behind the tears. It was far too easy to get lost in the brown eyes that watched and took everything in; the depth of her emotions being so overpowering. Her face still wore some of the dirt from the battle, bags under eyes indicated the lack of sleep – her curls were mixed with debris and mud, small cuts lay on her skin from whatever objects had flown past her. But the once buck toothed witch – even in this state of disarray – was beautiful. Her mind was clear and sharp, as it always had been. This - the little witch he had seen grow from a lonely child to one of the bravest witches he knew…. yet the ghost of his past love could he see within the tears Hermione shed, her worry: that kindness. He did not need it.

He did not want it.

But the simply act of taking away his hand shifted her expression yet again, and he could not bear to see her face; shifting his eyes to the fascinating ceilings of St. Mungo's. He could feel her weight shift off the bed and a sigh escaped her lips that left her body in synch with the sigh that escaped his own. He felt the tension in his muscles come back, waiting to hear her footsteps out the door.

He shifted his gaze back to her as he felt the weight against on the bed, seeing a book in her hand, "Chapter One. There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed –

"Miss Gra-

" – in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning." She continued. "but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so somber, and a rain – "

"I shall not be read to like a chi-

"-so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out of the question." Hermione kept on, not giving into his childlike protests – and, finally, Snape stopped his muttering; shutting his eyes, listening as she spoke. It had been a long time since he had read Jane Eyre – and the company – why not perfect – wasn't too bad either.