What Sarah Said
She walked slowly, dreading that every step brought her closer to where she did not want to be. Her forced deep calming breaths did nothing to stop her out-of-control nerves. The hospital, despite being magical, smelled of cleaners and piss and it attacked her senses; fogging her mind, but she trudged onward. She had to do this.
When she reached the door she doubted she could keep it together, she was falling apart already. Deep breaths, deep breaths. You can do this. You must do this, the rational part of her mind kept telling her, but the other half was screaming at her to run.
The door opened slowly and she clung to the knob as if was the only thing keeping her from falling. He was so pale. He had always been pale, but this… it was too much. The only thing keeping him from fading into the background of white sheets was his dark hair. His hair. It made her want to run, to scream, never to come back. She could not face this; she would not face this. But, she had to.
His hair had been cut short, trimmed neatly around his ears, like a little boys. It was completely and utterly clean. Any trace of the long lank locks, which usually hung messy and neglected about his shoulders had vanished. It had earned him various derogatory nicknames amongst her peers, but it had become so endearing to her over time and now it was gone. She loved that he threw himself into whatever he was doing completely, not stopping for anything until the project was finished, not even washing his long dark locks.
She choked back a sob, remembering the way he stood hunched over a cauldron for hours, waiting for just the right moment for the next ingredient, the way his eyes sparkled when something finally went right, or flashed fiercely when something went horribly wrong. The way he would go days on end with out sleep, without rest, and then finally, collapse into bed still smelling faintly of potion fumes.
She had to grab hold of the wall when she realized the faint sound that filled the room was his heartbeat. It was so weak so faint, so awfully small. Pushing a frizzy curl of hair away from her face, she went to him, taking his cold, limp hand in her small, shaking one. His dark eyes fluttered open then and she swallowed hard, tears filling her eyes. He tried to say her name, but it ended up lost in a fit of coughing.
"Severus, I…" she stopped, blinking back the tears. She could not– would not show weakness in front of him. Not here; not again.
Opening his dry, chapped lips he attempted to speak, again. As his voice broke, she stopped him, leaning over and pressing her lips to his forehead. Standing upright again, she gazed directly into his deep, fathomless, black eyes, whispering, "I know. You don't have to say anything, I know."
The tears would not be stopped this time, and they slid down her cheeks to land noiselessly on his. He raised a hand weakly to wipe them away, his thumb gently brushing across her lips. Sniffing and biting back more tears, she took his both his hand in hers and kissed them softly. "I always loved your hands," her voice broke and stumbled over the words, but it did not matter, the corners of his lips rose up slightly into a small smile, anyway. It was such a rare thing, for him to smile. She could probably count the times her had seen it on her fingers.
One hand still clasped tightly in hers, she moved to sit in the hard chair by his bed, gazing at him in silence as his eyes fell closed. Nothing but the sound of his weakening heartbeat made a noise for hours on end, for eternity. And then, that stopped, too.
She sat there, staring blankly at the white sheets, and the white tile, and the white walls, and the white pallor of his skin, a line from a song she once heard was the only thing scrolling through her empty mind. Love is watching someone die... So, who's going to watch you die?
Author's Note: The song, What Sarah Said, is the property of Death Cab for Cutie. The lyrics are below if you want to check them out. Severus Snape belongs to JK Rowling, and so does Hermione, if that's who you pictured. If not, then, I am sure whoever you pictured doesn't belong to me either. Please review, it makes my day.
What Sarah Said
And it came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to father time
As I stared at my shoes in the ICU that reeked of piss and 409
And I rationed my breathes as I said to myself that I'd already taken too much today
As each descending peak of the LCD took you a little farther away from me
Amongst the vending machines and year old magazines
In a place where we only say goodbye
It stung like a violent wind that out memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds
And I knew that you were a truth I would rather lose than to have never lain beside at all
Then I looked around at all the eyes on the ground as the TV entertained itself
Cause there's no comfort in the waiting room just nervous paces bracing for bad news
Then the nurse comes round and everyone lifts their heads
But I'm thinking of what Sarah said
That love is watching someone die
So who's going to watch you die?...
--Death Cab for Cutie