The cold dungeon floor appeared beneath my feet, and I tried to calm the disorientation that threatened to make me sick. I looked down at Severus, still cradled in my arms, and for a second my heart stopped at the sight of his glassy eyes. And then the moment passed, and I recognized that he was fighting the same feeling of nausea that Bibbits' apparation had caused.

"Severus, stay with me. I'm here; don't give up," I ordered him. "Get him on the table, hold the wound." Bibbits jumped into action. As soon as his spindly hands were wrapped around the wound I ran to the storage closet.

The antidote to Nagini's venom was difficult to make and composed of ingredients Severus wouldn't keep on hand. But there are other ways of extracting venom from blood… Ah. I spotted the esse potare setup on a high shelf and levitated it to rest on the table where Severus lay. I put a needle into his arm to withdraw blood for filtering. Pure blood and pure venom began trickling, drop by drop, into vials. I added another needle, just above the wound, to wash the gashes with his own freshly filtered blood. I started casting "vulnera sanentur" every few seconds to keep him from bleeding out, and I waited, watching his face anxiously.

"Do you know any good healing spells, Bibbits?" I asked between casts.

The old elf seemed steadier under pressure than I expected. "I can keep it closed mistress," he said, a determined tilt to his ears.

I watched the elf's fingers glow and seal the wound a few times before I dashed to the supply room for a blood-replenishing potion. "Severus," I said, pushing strands of hair away from his face, "you need to drink this potion." His eyes were closed now, but I could hear him breathing ragged, labored breaths, and his eyes moved under their pale lids at my voice. I opened his mouth and poured some potion in. He swallowed some and convulsed, the tendons in his neck straining, the skin covering them slick with blood. I held his hand until he calmed, and then fed him more, little by little.

His cuts were re-opening more slowly now, but despite our efforts, his skin seemed to have taken on a grey tinge. Bibbits noticed it too, and cast a worried look my way with his enormous eyes. Perhaps it was just the contrast of his pale skin with the vast amount of blood covering the three of us. I cleaned up a bit, but the result was the same; he did not look better.

"Severus?" I asked him, shaking his shoulder. He didn't respond. His eyes didn't move. He was breathing, but his breaths were shallow, and something about his face seemed to slacken.

My vision blurred with tears and a lump rose in my throat.

"I'll take over Bibbits."

I pulled up a stool and sat beside him, healing his wound every few minutes as it re-opened. As the drops of venom in the esse potare vial slowed and finally stopped, I began to cry. The venom was gone, his blood was pure, but I couldn't wake him up.

I don't know how long I sat there before I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Hermione?"

I think it was Harry.

"Hermione, you need to come away now. He's dead."

"He's not dead." I told him stubbornly. "He's breathing."

They left me alone for a while. Severus' wound had stopped re-opening altogether.

Then there was a warm, matronly voice. "Potter's going to try and dig him out of there for you. Alright, sweetheart?"

My attention snapped to Madame Pomfrey's face and then to Harry's. "Oh please, Harry, try."

He gave me a hard look and agreed. I grimaced and pried Severus' eyes opened. Harry took my stool and looked deep into Snape's eyes.

I'm sitting on a settee.

It's the only thing around. I could stand, I suppose.

Off to my left there's a fairly decent grey color, and to my right it's bright, blinding white.

I stand. My boots make a satisfying clicking noise on the pavement. I walk around a bit and come and sit back down on the settee. This is nice.

I'm not sure, but is it brighter than it was a moment ago? I squint toward the grey and wait a moment. Yes, yes it's definitely brighter. I frown at the brightness. I'm not sure how I feel about this.

Off in the distance to my left, I notice there's another settee- just like this one. I could go sit over there, where the light wouldn't bother me. Seems rather far away though… and it's so nice here.

"Hey Snape."

I look up and it's- "Potter. What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too, sir," he scowled, fixing those irritating green eyes on me.

"This is completely unacceptable, Potter," I hiss, pacing around him. "Get. Out. Of my liminal space. Now." I threaten in his ear.

"Oh fine, just die then if you like, see if I care," he said, "I only bothered to come because… oh let's see," he started ticking off points on his fingers, "apparently you were against the Dark Lord the whole time, and without your help he wouldn't be dead, and you did all sorts of things to help protect the Hogwarts' students, and Dumbledore had arranged his death with you before-hand so you weren't actually to blame, and," he looked at the sky, "it seems like maybe you don't have much time left…" the grey was almost gone. "And then there was the bit about Hermione asking me to fetch you…"

Hermione. I suddenly remembered why the brightness bothered me.

"…but if you'd rather die, I'd understand… you know…"

The settee toward the grey was almost a speck on the horizon. I gave Potter a withering look before running toward it.

Potter jogged along beside me. "You know where you need to go, don't you?"

"Until the light comes from above, as it should." I said. "Now get OUT, Potter!" I shrieked in exasperation.

Potter, the bloody idiot, grinned, of all things, and the next time I looked for him he was gone.

I passed settee after settee, each identical, each less painfully bright than the last. At last I could see black before me and the light lifting up off the horizon and toward the sky. When I judged it had reached its zenith, I looked down, and there was a settee, waiting for me.

I smiled. Laying down on its soft cushions, I closed my eyes.

Harry sat, unmoving, staring into Severus' deathly face for what seemed like hours. I stood, shivering from cold and anxiety, rooted to the spot.

Then Harry's body suddenly relaxed. He stood up from the stool and breathed a sigh of relief. "Don't worry, Hermione," he said, as comforting hand on my shoulder, "he'll be fine…" Harry walked away, "the git," he muttered under his breath.

I peered into Severus' face. He was cold to the touch, but I thought perhaps he was warmer than last I checked. And his skin, was it less ashen? I waited, and the color and warmth slowly returned to him. His breathing was deeper and less labored, and I imagined a smile touched his lips. He was sleeping.

I watched him for a moment. We breathed together.

"Severus?" I said, shaking his wrist. He opened his eyes.

A/N: I didn't kill him this time! You're welcome.