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In Sickness and in Health
"Hermione Snape….. Where would I find her, what room is she in?"
Severus Snape, ex Potions Professor, Order of Merlin First Class recipient, leading Potions Master in all of Europe and twice-accused Death Eater skidded to a stop, his boots not finding the necessary traction on the overly-polished marble floors of Saint Mungo's Emergency level. His rain-soaked cloak whirled around and then clung to him, dripping an ever-growing puddle onto the stone.
Looking disheveled and entirely manic, his black hair tossed about and gasping for breath after literally galloping to the hospital from the apparition point; he was at his wits end. Upon receiving the owl carrying news that his wife of three years had been brought into St Mungo's with undisclosed injuries, he had abandoned his current potions project into the barely competent hands of his new apprentice. Dashing away without anything but his wand and a mind full of worst case scenarios –God knew, in the last 20 years of his life he had seen every worst case scenario known to man. During those seemingly endless moments Severus had found himself practicing an art form he hadn't realized he knew: prayer.
The startled nurse looked frightened, and then recognition dawned on her face as her eyes briefly scrutinized the long white line cutting across the left side of his face. "Why, your Excellency! Lord Snape, sir. What an honour to have such an esteemed guest and war hero in our own hospital…."
Severus felt his blood pressure rise exponentially, and knew that if anyone else wasted time addressing him in his formal title there would be more bloodshed than average in the hospital today. Preparing a tirade which would wipe the star-dazed glaze off the girl's face, he was suddenly spared the indignity as Remus Lupin loomed behind the nurse, distracting Severus' mind back to the real matter at hand.
Biting down the bile which rose up his throat each and every time he came in contact with the werewolf (or rather, smelt him or any of his kind), he felt a strange surge of relief upon seeing a reliable source of information. Severus was shocked to find upon trying to speak, the words came out only haltingly. Emotions were powerful, and frightening. He often thought he had been better off in the state Hermione had found him in: Emotionally detached and safely ensconced within iron walls of anger.
"Hermione….. Where … What… Is she? How?"
Remus Lupin had been both dreading and anticipating the arrival of Severus since he had brought Hermione in an hour previous. The note he had scrawled and given to the nurse had been sent within 15 minutes of their arrival, and he had been hovering over Hermione while frequently popping into the halls to look for her husband. He pitied anyone who came across Severus before he could intercede. Severus at his best was a tempest to deal with; overbearing and haughty, hiding his hyper-sensitivity behind a condescending layer of cold anger. At his worst he was an absolute monster: Like a manticore, he would slice you open, chew you up whole and spit out the bones.
"They are working on her right now, Severus."
Remus took the other man's arm, noting with a start that his old nemesis hadn't flinched at the contact. Actually, the scowl hadn't even deepened. He wondered how much Slytherin's ex-Head of House already knew of the woman's condition.
"We need to allow them to do their work, and not let any magical flares get in the way."
Severus nodded in agreement. It would be imperative to be calm and relaxed when he entered the room. In an agitated state, wizards and witches sent out uncontrolled magical energy waves; waves which could interfere with the medical magic, causing tragic results. For very high-powered wizards, the level and intensity of the magic was capable of destroying any other magic in the room. It would only cause harm if he burst in while they were working on Hermione….. His Hermione….
"Hermione?"
Was all he could muster? The controlled and calculating double-agent spy face had dropped like a mask over the previous sea of emotions, and Severus returned to speaking Queen's English. He didn't feel like pushing his luck just yet, and said very little. The werewolf may have proven to be loyal in the past, and certainly did his part for The Order, but there was no reason to go about acting the fool. No need to give more ammunition than necessary. One could never tell when the Tides of Friendship would turn against you.
Remus sighed inwardly, noting the return of controlled, hyper-defensive Snape. The real Severus revealed himself only briefly in rare moments he was feeling particularly safe, or in this case, distressed. It had taken two whole years after the war ended for anyone other than Hermione to see the man behind the menace. Remus Lupin, for all the animosity of the past, had grown extremely fond, protective even, of the husband and wife duo, and was deciding how best to explain the situation without shattering the fragile relationship which had begun to grow.
"No one knows exactly what happened physiologically. They are still running diagnostics to determine the pathology and the trigger for the actual event. You need to know before you go in, it will be a shock the first time you see her…"
"For the love of Circe, will you hurry up man? Do you think I've never seen an injured witch before? Tell me the news and LET ME GO!"
A spark of hope lit in the Lycanthrope's heart – this was Severus at his best, angry and ready to defend. He might survive the news yet. Taking a steadying breath, as his own mind was still reeling at the news and his heart breaking apart he closed his eyes and spoke.
"Hermione may never be the same again. According to the children, while she was teaching this afternoon, she had suddenly stopped mid lecture, grasped her temple and lost her train of thought. She then moved to retake her seat at the desk and collapsed. She has yet to regain consciousness."