Chapter Three

Times passes, as it has a way of doing, and since the end of the great battle, a week's worth of time had traversed. While Hermione longed to return to St. Mungo's and visit Snape again, her attention was needed elsewhere, for now that she was among those who had fought and lived through the war, she was constantly being interviewed. To escape the demands of the wizarding world, she decided to return to her parents for a few days, but she also knew that she was long overdue for a visit. Being Muggles, they were quite oblivious to much that happened in the wizarding world, but they knew that their daughter's life had been in danger for a while, much to their horror and dismay.

Meanwhile, life slowly started to return to some semblance of normalcy among most of the wizarding community. People returned to work and came home in the evening, finding that their families were finally safe. The Ministry was abuzz with trials and headline-breaking stories daily, but at St. Mungo's, time did not seem to be going so fast.

Confined to a bed, Snape grew more and more restless and irritable by the day. A few members of the Order had come to visit, including Aberforth Dumbledore, who had been the first member to recognize Snape's innocence and had helped him get back on his feet again shortly after Dumbledore had been killed. Minerva McGonagall, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, and Arthur and Molly Weasley had all been kind and understanding enough to visit Snape, but the tension in the room had been thick during every visit, and conversation was kept to a minimum, resulting in an awkwardness that could only be broken by the visitors giving in and leaving, politely submitting to blathering well-wishes and cordial good byes.

Snape's wounds were healing, and instead of pain, he was subjected to annoying itchiness all over his body. Some of the bandages had been removed, including the ones on his face and back of the head. For that, he was thankful, for now he could see with both eyes once more, but unfortunately, whenever he tried to read a book, he had a hard time focusing. The words would become blurred, and he would quickly feel a headache coming on.

Sighing, he laid the latest book he had been trying, in vain, to read down on the table next to the bed and was in the middle of leaning back when someone entered the room.

It was her.

Hermione slowly made her way toward the bed, giving him a slight smile. She finally was here visiting him again, something she had been wanting to do all week, but now that she was actually in the same room as him, she was finding it hard to find her words. She stopped once she was next to the bed, but she didn't sit down.

Studying him, she was relieved to see that he looked better. His wounds were healing nicely, and he looked like he had been taken care of well.

"You look... nice," she said delicately.

Snape snorted. "Nice?" he asked sarcastically. "Hardly."

Hermione sighed. This was not turning out the way she had hoped. "What I meant to say is... I'm glad you're better."

"Well, how nice of you to come by and say so," Snape said acidly. "Now, if you have nothing of importance to say, you would be better off leaving and sparing me from suffering from your lack of social skills."

Hermione felt each icy word pierce her to the core, and she had to turn away, lest he see the awful effect his biting words had on her. She couldn't stop her tears as the hot saltiness spilled over her lower eyelids and poured down her cheeks. Stifling a hiccup, she made her way toward the door to leave.

What had she expected? A warm welcome? This glowering, snarky, ill-tempered man may have helped her friends this past year and done everything in his power to fight for what was right, but his sheer cruelty was the most prominent thing about him at that moment, with the exception of his nose, perhaps.

"You ungrateful bastard," Hermione muttered, not looking at him.

Just as she was about to close the door, she heard a withering sigh and a quiet, disembodied, "Hermione."

She stopped but didn't turn.

"I..." he faltered. "That was uncalled for... I mean, on my part."

That was the closest thing to an apology she was going to receive from him. Still not pleased, Hermione released a loud, petulant sigh and faced him, crossing her arms over her chest, her brows arched inwardly in anger. The fierceness of the look she was giving him was unsettling, and if there was one thing Snape had learned about Hermione in the past year, it was that when she was determined, nothing could stop her.

"Why do you have to be so mean?" she practically accused. "I have done nothing to deserve such cruelty. Maybe you don't believe me, but I've been worried sick about you all week, and I finally come to see how you are, and you throw daggers at me with your horrid words and your bad temper."

Snape shot her a disbelieving look. "Pray, tell me, Hermione, if you have been so worried all week, why didn't you come until now?"

"I- I wanted to," she said, almost desperately, "but things got in the way that prevented me. Trust me, Severus-"

"Trust?" he hissed softly. "Trust is a word thrown around far too loosely. Trust means nothing to me. You should have realized that months ago."

"Then why did you help us?" she challenged. "If you didn't trust us, why would you have journeyed with us, risking your life? Had we wanted to, we could have turned you in at any time."

"I had nothing to lose," Snape spat sourly. "I have told you this time and again, Hermione - that my life is worth little or nothing."

"Stop saying that," she countered, a pleading look in her eyes. "You've survived, and you're here, recovering."

"For how long? There will be a trial, and I will be found guilty in the eyes of the Ministry and condemned to death, anyway. My survival has been nothing but a delay of the inevitable."

"Well, I don't believe that," she insisted. "And neither should you," she added, taking a seat. Her nerves were starting to calm, for she had been worn threadbare with arguing.

Snape just shook his head. "Believe what you must, Hermione," he stated grimly, "but my fate is not for you to decide."

"I wish it were," she whispered, not realizing she had voiced her thought aloud.

"What was that?"

Hermione covered her mouth, realizing that he had heard her, but she knew it was already too late. "I wish it were... up to me to decide, that is," she admitted. She knew she had nothing to hide. Why bother? If he hadn't figured out yet that she cared about him, then that was his shortcoming, not hers.

"Why should you care so much, you silly girl? What consequence is it to you?"

"I have tried to tell you again and again that I consider you a friend, Severus," Hermione said firmly. "And friends care about each other. Surely that isn't a foreign concept, even to you."

"My life has hardly been one inundated with friends, Hermione, so forgive me if I have a hard time believing you," Snape replied sardonically.

"You would dare question my integrity, my sincerity?" Hermione questioned, clearly hurt. "I... I was here the first night you arrived. I cried over you, held your hand, talked to you, worried about you day and night. Severus, for heaven's sake, I practically laid my soul open and bare for you that night, just as I have time and again these past several months. If that isn't enough to convince you of my friendship toward you, then I don't know what is."

Hermione felt herself bristling with hurt again. How much longer would this insufferable man agonize her for no reason, other than his own unwillingness to see the truth?

"I- I apologize, Hermione," Snape said softly, feeling utterly ashamed. He was staring at his hands as they rested on his lap, where they twitched uncomfortably.

Hermione was moved. For him to have apologized was a small miracle. Severus Snape never apologized - or so he said. Filled with compassion, Hermione leaned toward him, and reaching a hand to his face, placed it on his lower cheek, gently cupping his chin. Slowly, she lifted his face, forcing him to look at her.

"Severus," she murmured, almost tenderly, her face inches from his. "Never doubt me and what I feel for you."

"I felt your presence that night," he whispered, "when you touched my hand."

Giving him a soft smile, Hermione kissed him on the cheek. "With those thoughts, Severus, go to sleep. I will see you soon, I promise."

Before he could find his voice, Hermione had left.