At the behest of a reviewer, I have continued. I hope Snape is still in character. Any more suggestions?

There was a pounding of footsteps in the corridor, and suddenly the portrait door to what remained of the Gryffindor commons burst open.

Hermione jumped at the sudden intrusion, turning to face a red-faced, heavily breathing Harry Potter. "What's the matter, Harry?"

He grinned at both her and Ron, who was nearby, trying to salvage through the still battle-torn wreckage. "I need to show you something."

Hermione frowned in concern. "Has something happened?"

"No," he said quickly. "Well…yes and no."

"What is it, mate?" Ron asked, coming to stand beside Hermione.

"Just come and see!" Harry started out the door again, not leaving time for any more questions.

Hermione gave Ron a quizzical look, and the redhead shrugged. "Best do as he says." They followed him out the door.

"Harry," Hermione started worriedly as they entered the infirmary. "Are you sure something isn't wrong?"

"Of course not!" Harry said, still grinning like a loon. "Like I said, I just want to show you something."

Most of the minor injuries had been taken care of, leaving the infirmary somewhat empty, save for a few of the more severe cases. Harry led them to a curtained off section far in the back corner of the infirmary. Still grinning, he threw aside the curtain.

"The bloody dungeon bat is alive!" Mortified by the exclamation he couldn't help, Ron slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Yes, so it seems, Mr. Weasley," said Severus Snape from his bed, not taking his eyes off his copy of the Daily Prophet. "Since I am feeling generous, I will not deduct points from your house this time, but call me that again and I assure you that you will regret it."

"Professor!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice coming out squeakier than she would have liked. "You…you were dead! We all saw you!"

"Clearly you were not looking hard enough," Snape said. "But then again, I would expect nothing less from bumbling Gryffindors."

Hermione blushed furiously, and Harry stifled a laugh behind a cough. "How?" she asked, ever inquisitive.

Snape laid down his paper, realizing that he would probably not be left alone anytime soon. "If you three are going to bother me, you might as well come in."

Ron and Hermione shuffled closer, and Harry let the curtain drop behind them.

"How Professor?" Hermione repeated.

"Luck," he said flatly. "And spells of my own invention."

"Liquid Luck, Professor?"

"Obviously," he said.

"When did you find him, Harry?" Ron asked.

Before he could answer, Snape cut in. "If you think I would rely on Potter for rescuing, you are sorely mistaken. I Apparated here myself."

Ron scratched his head. "Blimey, you're a tough old gi—er—wizard. I'm glad you're still around."

Snape's face softened almost imperceptibly. "Your care is appreciated, Mr. Weasley."

Hermione inched closer, peering at Snape's neck. "Are you still injured, Professor?"

He reached up unconsciously to touch the spot where Nagini had struck him. "No, though that insufferable mediwitch insists I stay here for a while. Regrettably, my injury will leave a scar."

Hermione brooded over this momentarily. "Professor, do you like scarves?"

He gave her a hard stare. "I am indifferent, Miss Granger, so long as they are my house colors. Why?"

She found herself grinning at him. "No reason."

At that moment, the curtain flew back and Madame Pomfrey's face appeared. "What are you three doing in here?"

"Visiting Professor Snape, Madame," Harry offered.

"That is rather kind of you, but Professor Snape needs his rest. You'll have to go now, but you can come back and visit him later."

After they had said their goodbyes, the trio left with giant grins on their faces.

"Glad to have you back, Professor!" Hermione called over her shoulder.

"Were they bothering you?" Pomfrey asked as she preformed diagnostics on Snape.

"No," said he. "As you insist on keeping me in this bed, I find their company quite…bearable."

Pomfrey hid a smile. "I'm glad you seem to find them less irritating."

Snape snorted. "They are no less irritating. Perhaps even more so. However, a brush with death gives me a certain appreciation."

"I think you're happy they're glad to see you alive."

"Don't be ridiculous, Pomfrey," he growled, picking up his paper again.

"As you say."

When she had left, Snape closed the Daily Prophet with a sigh, leaning back on his bed. He replayed in his mind the looks of astonishment—then joy—he had seen on Weasley and Granger's faces when they had first seen, and the happy grin on Potter's face. It felt oddly good to be appreciated. Perhaps Pomfrey was right.

He sat up slightly, looking around and listening. No one was around. There was not a sound in the infirmary. He let himself lay back again, closing his eyes.

He smiled.