Hermione awoke when she heard Harry's soft gasp through the open flap of the tent. After so many months on the run, she'd learned to sleep lightly. Confident as she was in her abilities, she wasn't foolish enough to think her enchantments were impenetrable.

Her heart thumped in her chest as she slid off the cot. What if it was Ron? What if he'd managed to find them?

Before she could get properly dressed for the cold, she heard the crunching of leaves that signaled Harry's departure. She could only just make out his silhouette as he passed through the boundaries of their spells. Hermione cursed to herself when she realized that Harry had her wand. She decided she would wait within the safety of her repellent and masking charms until Harry returned. She wouldn't be able to do much without a wand anyway.

As she squinted into the darkness, Hermione caught sight of a shimmering shape. Focusing more closely, she saw that it was a doe. Certainly a Patronus, but it wasn't Harry's. And nor was it hers or, with an inward sigh of disappointment, Ron's. Moving along the barrier, she swept her eyes over the forest, trying to find the source of the charm.

With her eyes adjusted to the darkness – she'd always had quite good eyesight, despite all the reading – she saw a low branch on a tree move of its own accord. There was no wind and no accompanying sounds of an animal scurrying away. She slowly, silently, let out the breath she'd been holding.

Crouching low on the ground, Hermione made her way toward the branch at a painstakingly slow rate. Between the dry foliage and patches of crunching snow covering the forest floor, it was slow going. Suddenly, she felt a prickling at the back of her neck; there was definitely someone there. She felt the magic. It was a Disillusionment Charm. The moment her mind put the pieces together, the figure shimmered into view. The charm, after all, only worked on those who weren't looking for you.

At first, she could only see a dark shape. Whoever it was had a hood pulled almost entirely over their head, though she concluded that it was almost certainly a man by his height. The longer she looked, the more details she came to decipher. The long black cloak he wore seemed so very familiar.

Hermione edged closer, but froze immediately when her knee landed on a twig and snapped it in two. The sound was deafening in the eerie silence of the forest.

The man's head whipped around toward her. His hood fell back just far enough for Hermione to make out the unmistakable beak-like nose of Severus Snape.

Hermione was only just able to stifle the gasp of mingled terror and surprise. How had he found them?

Glad that her hands were covered in black gloves, Hermione dipped her head to allow her hair to cover up the pale skin of her face that could give away her location. Watching him through the curtain of hair, she saw him scan the bushes and trees around her. She was relieved when he didn't immediately cast Lumos, suspecting it was because he didn't want to give away his presence any more than she did.

Hermione held her breath when Snape grasped his wand, but relaxed when she saw the telltale shimmer as he recast the Disillusionment Charm. He pulled his hood further over his head to cover his face and cast a silencing spell before moving to get closer to the Patronus that had led Harry away.

His Patronus! Pushing aside the question of why Snape's Patronus was, of all things, a doe, Hermione focused on the situation at hand. Harry was being led through the forest by Snape's Patronus. She put all of her energy into wandlessly casting her own silencing spell before creeping back within the enchanted boundary around their campsite. She wanted nothing more than to get to Harry, but she could no longer see Harry, Snape, or the Patronus.

Knowing that she would get hopelessly lost in the forest with no light and no means of direction, Hermione resigned herself to waiting for Harry to return. If he was to return at all, that is. After an hour, her extremities were beginning to go numb and she reluctantly ducked back into the tent to find shelter from the elements.

Two more hours passed as Hermione sat close to the fire she'd conjured earlier that evening before Harry took her wand for his night watch. She felt her eyelids begin to droop the moment she pulled her blankets around her to further ward off the chill. She fought it, but her body's will to sleep was stronger, and she soon fell into a deep slumber.

"Hermione!"

Hermione was jolted out of her sleep by Harry's shout.

"What's wrong? Harry? Are you alright?" She asked in rapid succession, her mind not instantly recalling the events of the previous evening in her half-awake state.

"It's okay, everything's fine. More than fine. I'm great. There's someone here."

Hermione's heart leapt into her throat. The memories came flooding back. Had Snape revealed himself to Harry? Was that who was there? Wh–

Her inner monologue came to a screeching halt when she spotted Ron standing just inside the opening of the tent. He was dripping wet and – her eyes widened when she saw what he held – the sword of Gryffindor was gripped tightly in his hand. Where had he gotten that?

Without thinking, Hermione threw the blankets off of her and stood to approach him. He grinned expectantly until she started punching him anywhere he wasn't able to shield. All thoughts of Snape and his Patronus were erased by her elation at seeing Ron standing there and her anger at seeing Ron standing there as though nothing had happened.

She screamed at him until she was out of breath, only then allowing him a moment to explain how he'd come to find them, though not without interjecting cutting remarks along the way.

When he and Harry began to discuss the Patronus, however, Hermione quieted. It had led them to the sword? And it was obviously the real sword, or it would not have destroyed the locket. Snape's Patronus led them to a sword that could destroy horcruxes. She kept turning the idea over and over in her head, struggling to put the pieces together. The conclusion she came to was the one her mind simply refused to believe. But it was the only one that fit.

Severus Snape – murdering traitor that he was – was helping them.

It would take time to get used to the idea, but there was no other way to slice it. He had provided them with the means to destroy the bits of soul Voldemort had scattered over Merlin only knew where. That certainly wasn't the sort of thing loyal Death Eaters went about doing.

As their journey continued, Hermione always kept this knowledge in the back of her mind. Whatever else that happened, she knew that Snape was on their side and had the means and desire, for whatever reason, to help them. It also meant that the friends they had left at Hogwarts had some small assurance of protection against the Carrows.

These were small comforts after their capture, and certainly as she lay in agony on the floor of Malfoy Manor on the wrong end of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, but it was at the very least a glimmer of hope. Even after Neville regaled them with the horrors of life under Headmaster Snape when they reached Hogwarts, Hermione still felt confident that running into him in the corridors would not mean their imminent death. He would not call Voldemort to the school and he would not harm them.

In the end, he had given his life for them. As he lay bleeding on the floor of the Shack, he had given Harry the means to finally defeat Voldemort once and for all. All he had asked in return was to gaze once more into the eyes that had looked so very much like those of Harry's mother.

Hermione never told anyone that she had known all along just whose Patronus had been in the forest that night. That she had known from that moment on whose side Snape was on.

It was, perhaps, because she had known for so long that his death affected her more than most, aside from Harry, who owed Snape so much more than any of them. When he had been casting about for ways to honor him, it had been Hermione who suggested that Harry demand Snape's portrait be hung alongside his fellow headmasters.

The day it was done, Hermione asked Headmistress McGonagall if she could be permitted to speak with the portrait. Permission for which was duly granted.

"Professor Snape," said Hermione as she approached the painting.

Snape eyed her warily. The likeness really was unnerving.

"Miss Granger," he responded coolly, his voice just as she remembered it.

"I –" She stopped herself.

What did one say to someone who not only saved your life, but, quite frankly, the whole of the wizarding world and beyond? How could you possibly express your gratitude to a man who gave his life both literally and figuratively for a world that despised him?

"Thank you," she said, a tear sliding down her cheek. The words were little more than a choked whisper.

"I did what I had to," he answered stiffly.

One corner of Hermione's mouth lifted. She expected nothing else from him.

"We all asked too much of you," she continued. "And gave you nothing in return."

"I asked for nothing," he said simply. "It was a debt that needed repaying."

Hermione wanted to stomp her foot at his cynicism. It would have been childish, though, and he likely would have stopped talking to her.

"Harry is adamant that he will name a son after you," she said, knowing it would irritate him.

Snape grimaced, but gave a resigned sigh.

"Go inform the Boy Who Lived that if he names his son James Severus Potter, I will tell Peeves to bugger off to Grimmauld Place."

Hermione gave a genuine laugh at that. She shook her head before speaking.

"I think he means to name him Albus Severus," she said, her laughter subsiding.

Snape looked genuinely surprised at this. She watched as he raised his eyes from hers, shifting his gaze to the wall upon which Dumbledore's portrait was hung.

Hermione turned and followed his line of sight. Dumbledore was smiling benignly as he met Snape's eyes, tears threatening to fall from his crinkled eyes. Paintings, though they were, their emotions were palpable.

"I told you the boy would come around, Severus," said Dumbledore.

Snape did little more than grunt in response, but the look on his face remained pensive. There was, dare she say it, a glimmer of contentment.

Upon seeing it, Hermione knew she'd done her job. She'd expressed her gratitude, and Harry's to a certain degree as well, and had been able to let Snape know that none of them had any intention of taking his sacrifice for granted. His gruesome death on the dirty floor of the Shrieking Shack may have been inglorious, but they were going to make damn sure that his legacy was not.

Nearly twenty years later, Hermione was absolutely certain that Harry made sure to remind himself on a regular basis just what Snape had done for him. As they stood on Platform 9 ¾ , watching as their children boarded the Hogwarts Express, Hermione saw Harry kneel down to speak quietly to his son. Hermione gave a watery smile as she listened to what her friend told his son.

"Albus Severus," he began, "you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew."

Did you like it? This actually started out as a prologue for a much longer story I had planned out in which Snape lives. I will, eventually, tweak this one shot to fit that plot. I'm still trying to finish my SS/OC fic first. I just had to get this out of my head before it drove me crazy.