Disclaimer: Not mine. If it were, Snape would be alive. And that horror of an epilogue would never have come into existence.
A/N: First fic in Harry Potter!verse.
The separating breaks 'x:x:x' indicate switches in time periods- from present day, where Hermione has been cursed, to some point in the past.
Chapter 3: Surfacing
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'…living in a deeper sleep, shallow dreams are turning me
What we hide, we'll breathe, in the end, you'll see
Pushing down what's deep inside, with right words, we hypnotize,
But feelings will arise, and you wonder why...'
- Candice Alley, Surfacing
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Professor Snape strode down the hall, leaving students scattered left and right in his wake. His expression was grim enough to strike fear into the most stalwart of hearts and his customary black robes billowed so strongly behind him that students whispered he was literally, honest-to-Merlin flying through the corridors.
Whether or not one supported this outlandish notion, it was widely agreed upon that he hadn't looked this terrifyingly dangerous since he awoke, weakened but indisputably alive, after the Final Battle to berate the fact that he owed his continued existence amongst the living to Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. It wasn't certain whether his objection was to the identities of his saviors or the fact that he had survived at all but nobody had been brave enough to pose this question to his face (or even discuss the matter in the same building as him).
Coincidentally, sightings of both the objects of his perpetual ire at Hogwarts had been reported, and a morbid curiosity raced along the school's population like a crackling wild fire, wondering if this might be the moment the famous hostility between Snape and Potter exploded into direct conflict. And if so, opinion was split as to who would emerge victorious. (The Boy-Who-Lived had defeated the most evil wizard of their time, of course, but then, Severus Snape had dispatched the most venerated wizard in generations)
Fortunately for the morale of the student body, Severus Snape was unaware of this line of speculation. The mere suggestion that he would not be able to squash the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Infuriate-Him like an insect and pickle his organs for display in the classroom was insulting enough for him to do something drastic, like dismiss the house-elves and enlist the students to take on all their duties without the use of magic, or perhaps cancel Quidditch for the foreseeable future. Depending on the extent of his fearsome rage, he might even be tempted to toss a few students off the Astronomy Tower and wait mere seconds before their imminent collision with the ground to halt their descent (if they were lucky).
However, torturing students was, oddly enough, not on Snape's mind at present. The frantic message from Ginny Weasley's Patronus was the source of the furious tension that gripped his body and cast his face in even sterner lines than usual.
"Professor Snape, please come to the Hospital Wing right away! Hermione's been hit with a Dark curse and we don't know what's wrong or how to help her."
His mouth tightened.
Hermione Granger.
Even after that damnable war was over, she was still a source of concern for him.
Even after she had bloody well graduated from Hogwarts, she was still an object of responsibility he was obligated to look after. Would it never end? It would probably be just his luck that she would succeed Minerva as Headmistress and then he'd be forced to deal with her as his employer, wouldn't that be a treat?
Snape was honest enough with himself to admit that the way he reacted to the mere thought of Miss Granger (like a cat scalded by hot water) was out of proportion to the amount of trouble she caused, which was minimal, these days. She was no Harry Potter, not the combination of his hated childhood enemy and former sweetheart; she didn't represent his greatest regret and failure, the final nail on the coffin that contained his withered heart.
He couldn't loathe her, when she so willfully refused to give him just cause. Barring a history of animosity, saving his life was an act he could not repay with loathing, even if he had wondered a million times whether perishing on the floor of the Shrieking Shack might not have been a more fitting fate for him (infinitely more peaceful, at any rate).
Nor was he indifferent to her. At different stages, he had disliked and pitied her, he had oddly sympathized and yet been frustrated with her (and this was only the tip of the iceberg, though as far as he was willing to concede) but never had he felt indifference.
Which left him in a quandary. For years, Snape had fared just fine with an emotional scale whose spectrum ran almost solely between loathing and indifference, maintaining a delicate balance of each to greater or lesser degrees, depending on the people he was forced to interact with. The warmest sentiment he entertained was respect, and that was extended only to a handful of people. It definitely hampered his social skills and didn't win him any friends, but that hadn't greatly concerned him.
The harsh lessons of his...unfortunate childhood taught him that he could not afford trust. If the girl with whom he shared so much history- who had laughed and played with him; who had, against all odds, cared for him- could turn away in disgust without bothering to give him a second chance, then how could anyone else find him worthy?
Perhaps as an adult, he could have overcome that self-defeating attitude (albeit by a minor miracle) but for the defining tragedy of his life that took place at Godric's Hollow the night that the Dark Lord was defeated. A great victory for the magical community, but at too high a price, he thought, paid in the blood of a loved one as a result of a terrible mistake, an unforgivable betrayal for which he could never atone.
After that, he could never have brought himself to invest in any meaningful relationships, no matter how lonely he might have felt on occasion, or how he wished he was the type of person that could reduce his misery by embracing fellowship rather than solitude. A preposterous notion. Even had he known how to go about seeking company rather than repelling it, the painful truth was that he had irrevocably forfeited that right.
It seemed that his lot in life was to remain alone and the cost of altering that fate was higher than the potential reward. Besides viewing it as a just punishment for his sins, Snape was also not willing to ever again risk his pride, his dignity and his heart, above all else, by daring to believe that another human being could come to see something of value in him. He had been burned too many times to willingly subject himself to that painful hope anymore.
So, after all these years, he was firmly set in his ways. He saw no reason to pretend to be any different from who he was, who he had been forced to become, just because the war was over. To make that point perfectly clear, he had been extra moody and menacing at the start of the school year, just so that everyone was on the same page. The dunderheads in charge of the witches' trashy magazines might declare him a romantic hero, but Severus Snape was just as much a bastard as he had ever been. He was not a Nice Guy, he did not have a heart and he didn't give a damn about other people.
None of which explained why the thought that Hermione Granger might perish was a painful vise around the heart he wanted everyone else to believe was still and frozen, but which dared to stutter to life at the most inconvenient of times.
x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x
His chest was on fire. It felt like someone was roasting his heart on a spit, the way he was hurting.
Well, his father had always told him that he'd burn in hell one day. Snape supposed it would be too much to hope for an Aguamenti to cool him down, not to mention, soothe his throat- it throbbed agonizingly.
A staccato beat pounded unsteadily in his ears, reverberating in the most annoying manner. Was this the tuneless rubbish that children were listening to these days? Was he to spend eternity with his eardrums under constant assault by the trash they called music as a warped punishment?
It was with the utmost trepidation that he eventually forced his eyelids open- considering the painful attack upon his other senses, who knew what grim punishment awaited his eyes?
His apprehension was well-founded. Although initially blurry, his vision resolved itself in time to make out the image of Miss Granger bending down to his face, much too close to his face, her lips almost on top of his-
"What," he rasped, choking a little on that one syllable before stubbornly vocalizing further, "do you think you are doing?"
The resulting coughing fit that increased the conflagration attacking his lungs was entirely worth it when he saw terror, surprise, panic and a dozen other dreadfully entertaining emotions chase after one another across her expressive face. Add to that the way she wavered on her heels and then, arms windmilling uselessly, toppled onto her backside…well, he thought this was possibly the most amused he had been in years.
"That was my reaction exactly," said a familiar voice, its scruffy-haired bespectacled owner moving into view, and just like that, his moment of mirth was abruptly terminated. "I thought the stress had gotten to her, but apparently mouth-to-mouth resuscitation really does work miracles."
His eyebrow lifted as he processed that explanation and then his eyes slid closed in resignation. Of course. He couldn't be revived from the brink of death with any more dignity than the method which had sent him to death's door. A snake's kiss and a Medusa's mouth-to-mouth. He had a terrible taste in his, but he supposed that was more likely due to the potions bottles scattered around him than any fault with Miss Granger.
Who had been gawking for a full minute before she finally regained the power of speech. "Professor Snape!" she exclaimed with a bewildering amount of joy. "You didn't- I can't believe- you're alive!"
He was about to compose a caustic insult about her wild disarray of hair, as it seemed they were in a contest to state the obvious, but then something struck him. "So is Potter," he said with a slowly dawning horror, ignoring the boy's chagrined protest at his obvious dismay that Potter continued to live. "Which means…the Dark Lord! What happened after-"
"Oh, no," Miss Granger rushed to assure him, figuring out where his thoughts had led him. "It's all right, sir. He has been defeated, our side won!"
"And it only took me dying to make it happen," Potter said with practiced nonchalance. "Speaking of which, I have no idea what people are going to call me now. The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice? The Boy-Who-"
"Just-Won't-Bloody-" Snape began, but then his ravaged throat, which had been complaining all the while at the abuse it had received recently and requesting he treat it gently, took umbrage at his continued mistreatment and promptly gave out on an embarrassing croak.
The fulminating glare he directed at the Boy-Whose-Appellation-Remained-Undetermined was more eloquent. But Potter merely shrugged and looked philosophical. It was unnerving. Apparently the post-victory euphoria had short-circuited his ingrained reaction to Snape's disdain, which was usually to bluster wildly, utter childish insults and scowl as ferociously as he could manage (but with the result resembling a miffed, myopic hedgehog, Snape found it difficult to be disturbed).
Well, that took the fun right out of Potter-baiting. Snape sighed. Fate just delighted in denying him his small pleasures.
While he was lost in regrets, a whispered conversation was taking place above his head and to the right.
"…we can't do that, it's too risky."
"But his health is still awfully precarious. It could mean-"
"I know, but it'd be better to get him to a safe place and bring help to him, rather than the other way around."
"I'm sure St Mungo's is flooded with patients right now, it'll be difficult to do that."
"Look, I'll kidnap someone if need be, but the worst thing would be for Aurors to rush in and lock him up before we can explain…"
Snape was officially baffled. Potter, refusing to pick a fight. Potter, expressing concern that he be kept safe? What had the world come to?
Finally, the two teenagers reached a consensus. Miss Granger leaned over him, "Sir, unless you feel that you're in immediate of expiring on us, in which case we'll take you straight to the hospital, we feel it would be more prudent to take you to-" she hesitated. "- a safe place to recuperate."
He narrowed his eyes. Snape had a sinking feeling he knew exactly where they were taking him, and while it made a great deal of sense- Merlin be praised! Gryffindors actually exercising good judgment!- he was reluctant to set foot in that loathsome man's house. Even if it was now Potter's- not that being Potter's property made the situation any better.
Still, he had no desire to wind up in chains and exiled to Azkaban.
He nodded wearily, apathy descending upon him all of a sudden. Let them do with him as they pleased. He was tired of making choices, or rather, being forced to choose between unpalatable options. Someone else was always directing the course his life took, why buck tradition now?
Besides, part of him still couldn't believe his former students had returned to save his life. They might grow tired of maintaining this charade that his welfare mattered to them and decide to throw his body aside and-
Hold on.
The realization struck him with blinding force. His heart rate sped up, that drumming noise from earlier returned to deafening proportions as he grappled with the notion of owing his life to yet another Potter and the know-it-all. Dots filled his vision, almost obscuring the sight of Miss Granger hovering over him, expression filled with dismay, stray strands of her wild hair tickling his chin as she urgently examined him.
Snape lingered in the conscious world for another moment, making sure she wasn't about to pull that mouth-to-mouth stunt again. Then, as she forced a potion to his lips, he surrendered to the darkness, heedless of the frantic cries that implored him to stay.
x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x
A cacophony of panicked voices was audible long before Snape came upon the entrance to the Hospital Wing.
He sighed with irritation. There was no time to coddle concerned friends, even if he had the slightest inclination towards being comforting, which he most emphatically did not. For expediency's sake, Snape forcefully threw open the doors with a resounding crash, effectively shocking the roomful of people into silence as they swung around to face him.
"Astonishing as it may seem, hysteria does not appear to be a successful cure for whatever ails Miss Granger," he announced to the room at large with patent sarcasm.
Snape's eyes fell upon the girl in question, lying completely still in bed, looking perfectly well except for her unconscious state. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully, and nothing would appear to be amiss, if not for the distraught looks on everyone's faces, but it was certainly not his task to put their minds at ease. "Potter, Weasley, I suppose I shall be forced to endure your presence. You may continue to hold Miss Granger's hands and agonize over her if you can accomplish this immensely helpful task quietly. Everybody else, get out."
After quashing the few obligatory protests with a threat to throw them out by force, if necessary- "and rest assured, I will not be gentle"- the room was much less crowded and thankfully, much quieter.
Miss Weasley lingered by the door and he excused her from his curt edict with a brief nod. The youngest Weasley had signed on to be his apprentice in Defense Against the Dark Arts after she graduated (it was a long story, involving Minerva alternately bribing and blackmailing him), so he felt it would be educational for her to remain. Besides, she was eminently more sensible than the two cretins wringing their hands in despair at Miss Granger's beside, and she would be capable of keeping them in line for him as he worked.
"I admire your talent at clearing a room, Severus, but I do hope you will not try to evict me from my own turf?" Poppy Pomfrey emerged from her office, distractedly engaging him in their usual light banter while examining her notes.
"Of course not, Madam," he replied smoothly, crossing to join the nurse in reading through her notes. "Your own formidable talents will be greatly missed should a student enter with some dire complaint, such as a headache or bloody nose."
Poppy huffed indignantly, but the situation was too urgent to trade further witticisms, and at any rate, she was too kind-hearted to bring up the numerous occasions in his youth when he'd been forced to seek professional help for the injuries inflicted by the cruel, creative spells with which the Marauders tormented him.
The two adults conferred over the stricken girl's condition, exchanging thoughts on how to proceed. Miss Weasley added her observations of the spell that was responsible for Miss Granger's state, but as it had been cast non-verbally and out of their sight, it was near impossible to narrow it down.
Even the effects of the spell were difficult to quantify. Miss Granger's case was baffling as there did not appear to be anything to treat; her body was unharmed, she simply would not wake. Poppy had already exhausted most of the conventional methods of rousing her, from Rennervate to the more complicated potions, but to no effect.
"There's only one other option that's open to us, Severus," Poppy said briskly. At his instinctive grimace, she went on in a gentler tone, "I know it's invasive, but until we know what's wrong, it would be irresponsible to resort to any stronger treatments in the hopes of awakening her. They're notoriously volatile and could react unpredictably, making things worse."
"If that is your expert opinion..." At her firm nod, he sighed, but conceded her point. "Very well. If there is no other option, I shall enter the girl's mind and assess her condition myself."
x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x
A/N: I had a lot of fun writing from Snape's POV. It's so liberating, sniping at people! No wonder this ended up longer than my first two chapters combined, lol.
And yes, I know Legilimency fics are a cliche, but it's such an interesting area to explore. I'm going to be messing around severely with the accepted notions of Legilimency, so hopefully that brings something new and interesting to the table.