Disclaimer: JK owns the characters.
A/n: This is the first fic i'm writing upon SOMEONE's request. Decided to write one anyway. Had this idea in my head a year ago, so here's the result! I dont know if i will continue, so do tell me what you think, thanks and a title would help too.
The loud slam of the castle door reverberated through the empty corridors as a hooded figure slowly limped his way towards the dungeons, blood dripping from his form, leaving a small bloodied trail in his wake. Gritting his teeth in pain, he could only pray that his body could withstand it long enough for him to make it to his private quarters where all the essential healing potions and salves would be available to him. He snorted at the idea of a student seeing him in this condition. He, Severus Snape, Potions Master, Bat of the Dungeons… the Greasy Git- with the capability of making 7th years quake in his presence and a 1st year pee in his pants with his trademark sneer and ice cold glares. Thankfully it was way past midnight and most of the students had gone home for the Christmas holidays. Chances of meeting anyone were slim. Or so he thought.
Damn the Inner Circle. Damn Voldemort. Damn it all. He silently cursed as black spots began to appear in his vision. Great, wouldn't it be lovely, to find a dead Potions Master in the middle of the corridors? He allowed himself a small sour chuckle at the thought of a frightened Hufflepuff finding his body in the morning. Probably would get traumatized for life.
He felt no fear of dying; it would bring him the peace that he had so secretly longed for, to get away from the harsh realities of life. He was just so worn out with all these Dark Revels, kissing Voldemort's ass, and playing Dumbledore's pawn. He knew what he did was useful for the Order, but he seriously wondered how much more of this double life he could live. This war had gone on far too long; too many lives had been lost. Just as his vision began to fade, he heard a feminine voice give a soft cry of surprise. Brilliant was his last sarcastic thought as he promptly blacked out.
Hermione Granger, resident know-it-all, Head Girl, was taking a quiet stroll around the castle when a glitter of dark liquid on the marble floor caught her eye. Curious, she bent down to take a closer look. She gave a soft gasp as she realized its nature and noticed that it was fresh. Spotting more little drops of blood leading down the passage way, steadily growing in to bigger puddles, she quickly followed the trail. What she found at the end of it surprised her so that she gave a startled gasp. A hooded figure, entirely in black, was bent over as though in pain in a small puddle of blood. This instantly reminded her of her first year, where Quirrell had drank unicorn's blood on behalf of Voldemort. Her first instinct was to back away and run to Dumbledore or any other teacher for help. But when the figure collapsed, she couldn't help but cautiously approach the figure.
Using her wand, she cast a simple diagnosis spell from a distance to see if there was any sign of life. The spell showed her a weak pulse and severe loss of blood. Recalling what she learnt from Madam Pomfrey over the years, due to all her adventures with Harry and Ron, she quickly knelt by the figure and removed the hood. Her eyes widened with shock when she saw the pale face.
"Pro…Professor Snape?"
No response.
Hermione knew she had to act quickly. She used a mild slicing hex to remove the heavy cloak, and found the source of bleeding. He had been stabbed in the abdomen, and had tried to heal the wound without much success.
It's a miracle he could even stand, let alone attempt a healing spell.
She quickly stopped the bleeding, and proceeded to heal the internal wounds. It was a tedious process, as healing a wound that deep required skill and a certain amount of magical energy. When she was done, grimly satisfied, she proceeded to check for other wounds on his body.
I can't believe I'm doing this! He's my Professor!
She checked mainly his arm and legs rather than other parts of his torso, and found multiple bruises and cuts all over his body. She healed those she could, but frowned when she saw the odd angle his arm was in. Madam Pomfrey had not yet taught her how to fix joints, and to attempt it now was too risky. Besides, he was in need of a blood-replenishing potion if he was to survive till daylight. But where was she to get one? Madam Pomfrey had gone on a Christmas holiday as well, since the castle generally had no accidents during the holidays due to a low number of students staying over. In times of war, it was natural that people tried to spend as much time with their families. As I should be spending time with mine right now if they were still here. No time for mourning Granger! Think! Blood-replenishing potion…
And the thought struck her.
How could she be so stupid to forget that Professor Snape had a private cabinet of potions? She had helped clean and arrange them once during her detention with him. He had surprised her when he allowed her near his private stock, but had quickly vanquished all positive thoughts from her mind when he said it was only because it needed cleaning and he had no other choice but her. Anyway, she recalled a bottle of the required potion there, and promptly levitated him to the dungeons.
There, she murmured a series of complex spells that would have made other 7th years feel like 5th years, to gain access to his office. Locating the cabinet, and quickly repeating the same set of spells. However, those did not work. She started to panic, and considered breaking the door open, but her logical mind told her that if she tried that, the potions inside would bear the risk of being damaged. Thinking back on her detention, she recalled Snape uttering an incantation, a sort of password. Knowing she would need that to open the cabinet, she transfigured the nearest object, a quill, into a marble dish.
Will do for a pensieve for now. She extracted the memory from her head, unceremoniously dumped the silvery wisp into the dish, and not-so-literally dived back into the memory, praying silently that Snape could hold out till she came back.
It was weird to see a ghostly image of herself waiting impatiently, eager to see what was in her Professor's private cabinet. She moved up to the memory of Snape, constantly reminding herself that it was just a memory and that he really couldn't see her. She listened intently to the password the Potions Master uttered. Even by being so near his memory, she could barely hear it. And when she did, even in the seriousness of the situation, she couldn't help but burst out in laughter.
"Die lemon drops, die."
No one would have EVER thought the greasy bat of the dungeons had a sense of humour, however ironic or sadistic it may be. Wait till she told Harry and Ron! They would probably grow a six pack from laughing so hard. But since it was a password, especially that of a teacher's, she decided it wouldn't be wise. Snape would kill her if he found out. Suddenly remembering what she was there for, she quickly focused on exiting the memory.
Whispering the password, she opened the cabinet and grabbed the needed bottle.
Thank god its still here!
She uncorked it and uncomfortably tried to make an unconscious Snape down the potion. Bit by bit, after what seemed like an eternity, he finished the bottle and colour returned to his cheeks. She breathed a sigh of relief. At least he would survive. Now where could she put him? She didn't know where his private quarters was. And for the second time that night, another thought struck her.
The Room of Requirement.
How COULD she not remember that in the first place? It would have saved the time spent of getting the potion, which could have very well cost the life of her Potions Master. She levitated him to the corridor the Room was located at, desperately thinking I need a place to heal, to help… Before she even finished the thought, a door appeared and she hastily went in.
There, she found a room almost identical to the hospital wing, just that it looked more up-to-date, with medical supplies arranged neatly in shelves by the side, a large comfy bed, and other medical equipment she could not identify. She levitated Snape onto a bed, and performed the diagnosis spell again. This time, it showed a stronger heart beat, although still weak. Hermione took a deep breath, pointed her wand at his chest, hoping that he would awaken so she could contact the Headmaster. It wouldn't do to leave him unconscious anywhere.
"Enervate."
