A/N: I own none of the characters, or anything you do recognize. JK Rowling does. =)

And the tears come streaming down your face.

When you leave something you can't replace.

When you love someone but it goes to waste.

Could it be worse?

Fix You, Coldplay

Chapter Three

Hermione idly turned a page in the bulky book she was currently absorbed in. The glare from the sun on the white pages stung at her eyes, making them water. She absentmindedly brushed a strand of curly brown hair out of her face and continued to focus on the literature in front of her. Beside her, Severus Snape was also reading a smaller volume, in his small hospital bed. Anyone who may have walked by the pair would have laughed at the amount of concentration with which both were attending their books. Not once did either of them look up to observe what was going on around them.

It had been two weeks, and most people had been properly healed by that point in time, and were able to go home, and all the bodies had been removed from the Hall. Once the number of remaining people had reached twenty, Madam Pomfrey had relocated everyone back to the Hospital Wing. Among them were Neville Longbottom, who had been hit with a curse, which caused uncontrollable bleeding on his chest, Charlie Weasley, who had a large, mean burn on his midsection that bedded him for at least another week, and Hannah Abbot, whose leg was broken, but due to a curse, had to heal naturally. Snape, himself, was almost ready to be discharged; he just had to break his fever.

Hermione felt a large, warm hand on her shoulder and marked her page before looking up. It was Ron. She smiled at him and set her book down. "Hi," she said.

"How long are you on duty?" He asked, hopefully.

"Well, for the rest of the day, I suppose," she replied, a little unenthusiastically. But at Ron's look of disappointment, she added eagerly, "I'm free tonight, though. And it won't be much longer, Ron. It's been two weeks. Now, all we're waiting for is his fever to break."

Ron's shoulder's drooped somewhat, but he smiled a bit. "Wanna go to Hogsmeade when you're off-duty?"

"Sure," she replied, sitting up slightly.

He nodded, and gave her a peck on the lips before leaving. Severus rolled his eyes from behind his book. She received daily visits from every single one of her friends, sometimes more than once a day, and the most irritating of all was Weasley, only because his were more frequent than all the others. To be honest, it reminded him of the way that he had acted around Lily, minus the romance, of course.

He glanced back down at his book when Hermione turned back in his direction. She looked at him for a second, before getting up to grab a thermometer from the supply table. It was one of the few Muggle objects that were more accurate than magic. She checked his temperature. "Nintey-nine degrees," she read aloud, her voice impatient.

He looked up at her, dumbfounded. "Are you suggesting that I must stay in this bed for another four tenths of a degree?"

Hermione looked at him, exasperated. "Madam Pomfrey said it was crucial to wait until you maintain a regular body temperature for—"

'Two hours, at least. Yes, I know, you've repeated it plenty of times," Snape finished distastefully.

Hermione took her argumentative stance: shoulders back, arms crossed, weight balanced on one foot. "Well, it's not as if I don't want to get out of here, either, Snape. To be honest, I think I want to go more than you do!" She had long since given up calling him 'Professor' or 'sir'.

"I highly doubt that, Granger," he spat sordidly. He, too, had dropped the formalities a week ago.

"Oh really? I've missed the funerals of one schoolmate, and one friend very dear to me! I'm up to miss the funerals of Remus and Tonks tomorrow if your arse doesn't heal itself soon!" Hermione started, her voice gradually rising. "I really don't mind being here whatsoever, but don't you dare tell me I wouldn't rather be somewhere else!"

He was rather bemused (even if he didn't show it) when she sat down, chest heaving, and picked up her novel again. He stared at her as her eyes moved speedily across the page she was reading, until she felt his gaze. "What?" She demanded.

He flicked his head to the side, indicating 'nothing', as if he were telling a fly to go away. Hermione sighed heavily and returned to her book.

It was remarkable how much she reminded Severus of Lily. Just the way she carried herself, the way she defended herself, was enough to have him thinking of Lily. But there would never be a substitute…

He looked up once again to find Harry Potter standing, conversing with her.

"Harry…is Ron okay? I don't know…he seems too cheerful to have just lost a brother…" Hermione trailed off.

Severus stopped reading. A Weasley had died? Why had no one told him this?

"Yeah, I know what you mean. He seems like he's gotten over it, but, there's no way he has. Why? What did he say to you?" Harry asked, concerned.

"He asked me if I wanted to go to Hogsmeade with him later. I mean, I told him I would, obviously, but, I don't know…" Hermione replied cautiously.

"Well, let's just wait it out and see. I mean, he's never lost anyone before, maybe this is how he deals with it. George took it hard, but healthy, I suppose. Ron's just pretending it didn't happen."

Hermione nodded. "I'll see you later," she stated. "This one's about ready. Another four tenths of a degree." Referring to him.

Harry looked at her, puzzled. She grimaced as she said, "And no! The degree has to be precise!"

Harry smirked, something Severus would never (as much as he hated to admit it) have had the courage to do. "A little stressed, Hermione?" He sniggered.

And to Severus' surprise, Hermione smiled. "Oh, shut up, Harry. Go do something!"

Harry threw his head back and laughed, and walked away, leaving Hermione shaking her head in mock-shame, smiling. She sat back down in her wooden chair.

"Granger."

Hermione looked up, her eyes prompting him for his question. "Which Weasley?"

Hermione's smile faded almost immediately. "Fred," she said quietly.

"Is that whose funeral you missed?"

"Yes," she replied, twisting her hands.

"I apologize, I—"

"Don't worry about it. I was just angry and impatient. I can always go see him later, anyways," Hermione reassured him.

Just because he didn't care about other people's pain, didn't mean that he didn't understand it. And in this case, maybe he did care. She had sacrificed a lot during those two weeks, and hadn't let someone else care for him when they offered. They had developed a rapport, of sorts, and she knew how uncomfortable he would be with anyone else. Not that he would have minded much, but it took him long enough to accept her help readily and neither of them were sure how long it would take for him to overcome his pride a second time.

Hermione pulled out the thermometer once again. "Come on," she muttered as she checked his temperature. She let out a sigh of relief at its digital screen displayed the results she was hoping for. She looked at him and smiled. "As long as you can keep your damn temperature down for two hours, we'll be out of here by four."

He nodded at her and also let out a reassured breath. The pair resumed reading their selected material.

Two hours later, Severus was sitting over the side of his bed, and Hermione was babbling on and on.

"…I'll have to give your regular examinations, once a week or so, for a month, then monthly exams for six months, and then after that, once a year should be alright. Be sure to—"

"Report any ailments? I think I can handle that, Granger," he said, chagrined that she wouldn't let him go.

Hermione stopped abruptly, and reminded herself that he wasn't completely incompetent. "Okay," she said, simply. "I'll see you next week, then," she smiled. And to her surprise, his face softened, as if that was as close as he was going to give a smile. Hermione figured hell would freeze over before he smiled at her, but she'd take what she got.

"Tuesday at seven?" He asked, having an overwhelming need to plan out his week. He was a structured person, and it almost drove him insane to break his routine. Although, he didn't know how that routine was going to last; things had changed, beyond what was in his control.

"Sure," she replied as she threw a bag over her shoulder, never breaking eye contact. "See you then."

He nodded curtly and both turned on their heels, parting in separate directions.

----------

"Ron, are you okay?"

He looked at her through his blue eyes. They were shiny, almost glossy, with tears. "No," he replied.

Hermione touched his shoulder and pushed her head into a position so that her face was a foot from his. "Tell me," she said, looking directly at him as she set down the tea she had just ordered.

"I just don't know," he said, rubbing at his stinging eyes. "He was my brother. How am I supposed to feel? Should I act like nothing happened? What is the right way to grieve?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "I don't think there is a right way to grieve, Ron. But you can't act like nothing happened. It needs to become a part of you, and become an experience that you learn from, just like you learned from every other big event that happened in your life," she said, kindly, as Ron averted his eyes at his drink. "There's no shame in showing how it's affected you. He was your brother. You have a right to be heartbroken."

Ron met her eyes. "I just don't know how Harry does it. He's lost damn near everyone."

Hermione nodded gravely. "He has, and he's learned from it. He's learned to use his tragedy to make himself a better person. But notice, he didn't try to pretend that it didn't happen when Sirius died. Or Dumbledore. He never forgot, but he recognized that life goes on."

She reached across the table and covered his hand with her small one. A glistening drop of water ran down the side of his cheek, carving a trail around his nose. "I am miserable, and I wish it had never happened. I wish I could have talked to him one last time," he confessed, wiping another tear from the bridge of his nose.

"I think it gets better, Ron. It has to; otherwise, what are people like Harry holding on to?" Hermione pulled Ron to his feet and wrapped her arms around his chest. He buried his head in her hair and held her close to him, never wanting to let go.

-----------

The next morning, Hermione had pinned her hair up in a neat bun on top of her head, not unlike Professor McGonagall. She was in dark dress robes and a pair of black heels. A small purse hung from her shoulder, and a small silver bracelet encircled her wrist. She met Harry, Ginny, and Ron in the Great Hall, before they all Apparated to the churchyard where Tonks and Remus were to be buried.

Andromeda stood with little Teddy balancing on her hip, next to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley had a small handkerchief which she constantly used to dab at her eyes.

They all stood by one another as the preacher said meaningless words, words that in no way, gave justice to the memory of Remus and Tonks. Hermione glanced sideways at Ron and Harry. Ron was staring at the epitaph engraved on the tombstone they were standing perpendicularly to, and sharp, crystalline tears were streaming slowly down Harry's face.

She, herself, was crying, and inexplicably, was brought back to her memories of Tonks, when she would spend hours trying to help Hermione with her confusion regarding Ron, make faces at her request. Remus would always recommend wonderful books to Hermione; would always answer her eager questions as honestly as he could. It was wicked, how they were both robbed of life, of their son, of their loved ones for nothing more than a power struggle. Especially Tonks, who was still in her twenties, who had a full life ahead of her, with a newborn son. Hermione shook her head in sadness and anger. And they both had faced death gracefully and with dignity. Could she have done it? Could she have walked to her death? Her hand clumsily reached up and brushed the tears from her cheeks.

She was too absorbed in her thoughts to realize that the minister had finished his sermon, and that people were filing out and Apparating away. It wasn't until Ron pulled at her hand that she realized the two of them were the only ones left. "You know, Ron? I think I'm going to stay here for a bit. I'll see you back at the Burrow."

Ron nodded, understanding. "See you."

Hermione turned around, hearing his pop before kneeling before the headstone.

If you live fearing death, you do not live.

It was fitting.

She hung her head, and all of the emotions that she had been holding in for two weeks and two days exploded. Her chest heaved as she sobbed heavily. She cried for the dead, she cried for the living; she cried for everything that had happened, and everything that had yet to happen. She had to keep up her morale for everyone else around her; they looked to her as strength and composure. She couldn't afford to lose control, like this, in front of everyone else.

Death was so overwhelming. It had no shame, and no empathy, and no one was safe from its wrath. She could only hope that Remus and Tonks had moved on to something better, that they had lost everything here to gain more somewhere else. That they hadn't died in vain. Harry had told her that there was something beyond death, but Hermione wondered how much of that had been inside his head.

She held her head in both of her hands as she lamented on her knees, and allowed emotion to overcome her.

A:N: So this one was a bit tougher to write, for whatever reason. There will be more Hermione/Snape relationship developing in the upcoming chapters, don't worry. =)

I would love a review! They will make me a much better writer, if constructive, and will motivate me to write more more more! I will update soon. =)