And you can't see past the blood on my hands
To see that you've been aptly damned to fail and fail again
'Cause we're all guilty of the same things
We think the thoughts, whether or not we see them through
And I know that I have been forgiven
And I just hope you can forgive me too

-Relient K, Forgiven

Chapter 1

Hermione Granger knelt in the pool of red blood. As it sloshed with her weight, she could almost feel the self-loathing and regret with which it was spilt. The feelings nearly knocked her down they were so apparent. It would have been welcome. She knew she should be feeling some sort of emotion: triumph, exhaustion, pain, anything. Hermione only felt emptiness.

Lord Voldemort had been defeated. The Light had conquered the Dark. She wasn't sure how many fatalities there had been. At the moment, she didn't want to know. She preferred the numb, hollow feeling in her chest to the ripping pain of loss.

Harry had just come to tell her and Ron everything from the memories, how Dumbledore's death had been planned, how Snape was really a spy, and how he had spent his entire life playing puppet and protecting people he didn't even love. All for the sake of repentance for one sin.

This man confused her. Hermione knew he was the most brilliant man she had ever known, which was what made it so hard to comprehend that he had done absolutely nothing to prevent his death. She knew a man such as Severus Snape would not go down without a fight. He must have seen this coming, he must have known. A man such as he must have been prepared.

She examined his face even before checking for signs of life. When she first walked into the Shrieking Shack, battered and bloodied herself, her breath caught. It seemed that while a teacher at Hogwarts, he had placed glamour charms upon himself. Now that he was incapable of reviving them, they had worn off. His nose no longer looked so beakish, merely a larger-than-average nose, broken several times like Albus Dumbledore's. His face was so relaxed, the harsh lines of his scowl gone. The pale skin was smooth, almost porcelain like. His black eyes, which stared into the ceiling, seeing nothing. The contrast between them and his skin was shocking, but somehow so elegant. Hermione could hardly find anything unattractive about him.

It was then she took in the mass of blood around him. In a vain attempt, she fell to the floor, fumbling to check his pulse. For the second time she stepped into the threshold, her breath caught. It was there, so light and irregular it was barely even there. It surprised her greatly, but was thankful that her intuition had proved correct.

She whipped her broken fingers into her pocket, fingering for the Blood-Replenishing potion she had instinctively packed when she came her. She jammed it into his mouth, ignoring the light breath she felt on her hand. She resisted the urge to throw up as more blood gushed from his wound, fresh blood as its victim.

Her hands clamped down hard on the wound. She heard the ghost of a wince, but all she could think about was stopping the blood. Pressure. Keep pressure. A summer at babysitting camp had taught her how to deal with gushing wounds. She never thought it would actually come in handy.

She was murmuring softly, keeping her persistence up was taking a rather large part of her will, and talking to herself was a tactic she used. Anyone listening would have heard the murmurs of, "Such a waste. Brilliant man. Deserved better." No one, however, was there to hear her.

Her left hand still clamped onto the gash, she pulled the large vial of Anti-Venom from her same pocket, shoving every last drop into his slack mouth. It seemed to take effect, as the blood from his neck continued to run, so did a horrible green, goo-like substance which she deduced was the venom from Nagini's bite.

It was like watching two people struggle to scale a cliff. One was sturdy, trying desperately to hold the hand of the one who was falling. Hermione was sturdy, trying desperately to bring Severus Snape back from death. He seemed to be fighting desperately to stay dead.

It seemed an age before the wound's flow slowed, but by then, Hermione was so exhausted, she could only slump down into the blood. Her empty stomach threatened to retch at the feel of the liquid seeping into her clothes and hair, but she managed.

With her last ounce of hope and courage, she levitated him out of the Shrieking Shack and through the tunnel, barely making it past the Whomping Willow. She took a few thumps for the both of them, adding to her pain. She gritted her teeth and pushed on. It was like the summer all over again.

Hogwarts front doors seemed to sense her frantic presence and they groaned their way open. She stumbled in through them, struggling to keep the man levitated. The hallway seemed conveniently empty, forcing her to go the entire way to the hospital wing.

Poppy Pomfrey gasped in shock at her. The blood was matted in her hair, clothes, and stained her skin. The bruises and gashes were angry and burned with the ache of using her magic, when all she wanted to do was sleep.

The curvaceous woman rushed to her assistance in the nick of time. She grabbed Snape just as Hermione crumpled to the ground, her magic finally giving way after so many hours of fighting.

After Madame Pomfrey had Snape in bed, she rushed to help Hermione, who was breathing heavily on the floor. She groaned in pain when the hospital matron levitated her to her own bed.

She showered Hermione; and the blood of her comrades, Snapes, and her own clogged the drain and prevented the diagnosis of her injuries. The porcelain shower would be permanently stained an odd-rust color, no matter the amount of cleaning charms put on it. It would remain as a reminder of the night Hermione had tried so hard.

Hermione herself hadn't had any treatment since the sixth year summer at the Burrow. She had to grit her teeth against the gashes she had gotten on her hunt for Horcruxes with her two favorite men in the whole world. And now, they all seemed to split open into fresh, new wounds as Madam Pomfrey struggled to treat them all.

Of all the students that had arrived after the Final Battle, Hermione Granger was by far one of the worst, save for those who had battled and nearly lost their lives. True to her Gryffindor nature, she had selflessly taken multiple curses and slashes that weren't meant for her. She had fought valiantly, destroying the third to last Horcrux all by herself.

Poppy Pomfrey managed to treat every one of her injuries, scarring guaranteed. You could tell most of them would pucker and cause future pain, but fortunately her bones healed relatively quickly after one or two doses of Skele-Gro. The girl hardly registered the taste, and her normally expressive brown eyes seemed vacant.

Exhaustion finally overtook the valiant Gryffindor, and she could at last sleep.