A/N: Sorry to have kept you lot on tenterhooks, thanks for all your kind words!

Chapter Twenty-One: The Memory Remains

Almost immediately, Ron and Harry had started discussing taking the memories to the Pensieve. Hermione didn't disagree, seeing as they had next to no idea what to do next. Severus hadn't managed to convey very much to her in terms of Dumbledore's plan to defeat Voldemort, but she was sure he must have had a deeper knowledge of the situation than them, and hopefully there might be something in there that could help.

As the boys had made to leave the Shack and return to the castle, they'd called to Hermione who was still at Snape's side, fiddling with bits from her bag and untying the cravat from his neck to use as a compress on the wounds, having undone half the buttons down the front of the black frock coat to gain access.

"'Mione, he's dead - you can just leave him." Ron shuffled his feet uncomfortably by the tunnel entrance.

"He's... not... dead..." she'd said through gritted teeth, waving them away in frustration.

"Fine! We'll go to the Pensieve and see what's in his memories. You stay here and do face-to-face with Snape or whatever," he snapped back at her, clearly not understanding why she would waste her time on saving the Dark Wizard.

As they left, Harry shooting her a concerned, slightly apologetic glance on his way out, Hermione let out one last distraught sob, then took a deep breath in and composed herself.

Checking his wounds, the bleeding seemed to have been staunched for the moment, although she knew full well - thanks to Arthur Weasley's similar run-in with Nagini - that it would certainly need more comprehensive healing than she could offer him here, but it would do for now. Hand to his clammy forehead, she felt again for his pulse which was no stronger than before, then put her hand in front of his mouth to check his breathing. Nothing. Panicking suddenly, she removed the bezoar from his mouth and dragged him by his legs down from where he was sat slumped against the wall, so that he was lying flat on the dusty, bloody floor.

Face-to-face, Ron had said. Trust him to be almost-right about something Muggle. Ripping open the rest of the coat buttons, Hermione bent right over him until their noses touched. Suddenly struck by a heart-wrenching memory of the last time she'd had her lips on his, she took a gentle but firm hold of his nose and blew two long, steady breaths into his mouth. Bracing herself, she locked the fingers of both hands together and placed them over his breastbone. Pushing down firmly, she started to give him chest compressions. After twenty or thirty seconds, she leant down to his face again to see if she could feel any movement of air against her skin. Still nothing. Another couple of breaths and more compressions.

She repeated this for what felt like forever, until her arms were burning and her back ached. Suddenly, as she went to put her mouth on his once more, she thought she noticed faint movement under his clothes. Tearing the shirt open to make sure, she laughed hysterically upon seeing his pale chest starting to rise and fall of its own accord. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes, and she planted a relieved kiss on his damp forehead.

"You're okay! You're going to be okay."

"'Her-..." His voice croaked a single syllable, sounding like it took every ounce of effort he had.

"Shhh! Shh, shh... Don't speak. Save your strength. I've got to try and get you up to the castle somehow..."

His eyes opened with difficulty and she saw him, for the first time in her life, looking scared. For himself? For her? She couldn't tell.

"Nnn... Too... risk-..." Clearly her first aid efforts hadn't completely mended the damage done to his throat. His arm flailed up from his side briefly to try and grab at hers, before flopping back down to the ground. It reminded Hermione sickeningly of the time Gilderoy Lockhart had removed all Harry's bones after that nasty Quidditch injury, and she shuddered.

"Sir... Severus... please? It'll be tricky getting across the grounds and through the castle, but you need Madam Pomfrey to take a look at you, I can't heal these sort of wounds completely - I've done my best but..." She frowned in concentration, assessing his current condition. "You'll probably need to go to St Mungo's anyway I should think - at least they have experience of this sort of thing." Suddenly a look of incredulity struck her. "We're outside the school boundaries! I can Side-Along Apparate with you straight to the hospital! Can you stand?" She started to gather up her little beaded bag and all the detritus that had come out of it.

One of his feet kicked out feebly to try and get a purchase on the rotten floorboards. Seeing him struggle, Hermione took hold of his arm furthest away and pulled him towards her, rolling him onto his side. He let out a sharp hiss and his face contorted in pain.

"Sorry! So sorry, but I have to get you up." Kneeling, she rose up onto one leg, scooped one hand underneath his armpit, and held the other one out for him to grab onto.

"Come on sir, you can do it! You're the bravest man I've ever known, please! That's it!"

Snape summoned a superhuman strength from somewhere to push and pull himself up into her arms. Taking care not to touch the raw wounds that still covered one side of his upper body, she propped her shoulder under his arm and straightened up. He was a great deal taller than her, although thankfully even leaner than ever. His year under Voldemort's reign at the school had clearly taken its toll on him. She gripped hard onto his right sleeve and looked up at him. He met her gaze, looking weary, but not quite defeated. He gave her an infinitesimal nod.

With a soft 'pop', Hermione turned on the spot and the pair of them disappeared in an instant, leaving behind a large scuffed void in the dust, and several sizeable pools of congealing blood.

The Healers at St Mungo's had been astonished and alarmed when a young girl arrived in the foyer supporting a blood-soaked wizard on one arm, his coat slashed and torn, and a once-white shirt torn open almost to his navel. To their credit, they hadn't hesitated to come to their aid, swarming around them and putting Snape onto a stretcher, and wheeling him away down the corridor. Hermione hadn't been allowed to follow, much to her distress, but one of the Mediwizards in lime green robes had hung back to take a history from her. Fortunately he remembered who had treated Arthur Weasley's snakebite, and when Hermione had told him all she knew and thought was relevant, he hurried off after the other Healers to assist them.

Sitting dazed in a waiting room, she had time for everything to sink in. She wondered how the battle was going and felt bad for having not joined the boys, but on a practical level, Snape could be a valuable resource in the war and it seemed silly just to let him die for the sake of it. Then of course, there was the fact that just thinking about him injured tore a huge hole in her heart. She had no idea when she had come to think of him in that way - their relationship in her last few years at school had certainly become something more cordial than when she had first arrived at Hogwarts, but despite his gentle humorous needling, and occasional acts of kindness towards her, she had been unaware that he might have seen her as anything other than a student.

Perhaps it was merely a side effect of the stresses of life during war? Perhaps when - if - Voldemort was defeated, and peace resumed, he would have no further interest in her; she might merely have been a distraction, an outlet to blow off some steam? She could hardly bear to think of it. Best just to take each moment as it happened. There was very little more she could do for him here anyway and the guilt of leaving Hogwarts, just as things were reaching a crescendo, was becoming too much for her. Leaving her details with the Welcome Witch for them to contact her if his condition changed, (did Severus even have any next of kin left?) she took a deep breath and collected her thoughts again.

Apparating back to the Shrieking Shack, the state of the room in the aftermath of the attack made her wince. He should have died. Lucky that the three of them were there. Lucky that she had kept the bezoar that he had left for her at Grimmauld Place, and had some Dittany and a few other potions left to use on him. Lucky that Voldemort hadn't used the Killing Curse. Lucky- Surely not...? Despite herself, a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Well, he was a Potions master! Who better to brew up a cauldron full of Felix Felicis if he knew there was a storm coming? She shook her head wryly, making a mental note to quiz him on it later. Right now though, there were two more wizards in need of her help. Cramming herself back into the tunnel that lead to the Whomping Willow, she crawled through the darkness towards the castle...

Harry, open-mouthed, had just emerged from the shiny surface of the Pensieve. Snape had been in love with his mother?! And Dumbledore had known since the beginning: Harry would die. Everything Harry had ever known had been a lie, and yet it seemed like he had known all along. He used the Invisibility Cloak to avoid Ron who was waiting for him in the hallway, and made his way towards the Forbidden Forest, a dull sense of inevitability washing over him.

Half-tempted to call up Snape along with his friends and parents as he turned the Resurrection Stone over in his hand, just to see if the professor had truly died in the few hours since Voldemort's attack on him, and now full of questions about him, he instead chose just to spend a quiet few minutes in the company of the people whom he had loved most in life, and who had loved him in return. He'd just seen enough of Dumbledore in the Pensieve that he didn't want to get into a conversation with the former headmaster at that moment either - he wouldn't have known what to say to him.

The not-ghosts followed him to the clearing, where he summoned his final bit of courage and stepped out of the trees, towards Voldemort, and a green flash of light, and then nothing.

Hermione had been unable to find Harry on her return to the school. She had raced through the corridors firing curses at the occasional creature or Death Eater that crossed her path, passing by the doors to Dumbledore's office and the infirmary. No-one had been in there - clearly Madam Pomfrey was out in the role of field medic. Returning back down to the Great Hall, she ducked through the huge doors and scanned the crowd of faces. Most of the Weasleys were there, with McGonagall and a couple of the other professors. Trying not to think of the one among their number who was currently indisposed in London, she conferred with the others on potential strategies.

It was approaching four in the morning: the hour given for Harry to hand himself over to Voldemort had long passed. When the battalion of Death Eaters emerged from the Forbidden Forest and approached the castle, gathering in the courtyard with Hagrid holding Harry's limp body, her heart sank.

If she hadn't gone- hadn't taken Snape to St Mungo's... she could have protected him, could have stopped him, she thought, as she realised her friend had almost certainly gone to his death voluntarily. Harry had always been beyond noble, often to the point of stupidity.

In the ensuing confusion of Voldemort setting on fire the Sorting Hat, and the subsequent retreat back into the castle, Hermione had lost track of what had happened to Harry. Seeing Neville decapitate Nagini had roused her spirits faintly, knowing that she had been the final obstacle on their road to rendering her master mortal once more, but she couldn't bear it if her best friend was defiled, even in death. Hagrid hadn't been able to recover his body after having been forced to lay him at Lord Voldemort's feet, and he was thoroughly upset about it. Hermione had tried to console him, in-between shooting off Stunners in all directions. Bellatrix Lestrange was cackling madly and taking on all comers.

Teaming up with Luna and Ginny, Hermione battled her furiously, but the older witch managed to keep them at bay. She had to admit, when Molly Weasley had pushed them out of the way and engaged her cousin alone, she had felt more than a little relieved. And when Bellatrix had died moments later, and Harry had thrown off the Cloak and revealed himself to be still alive, she was more relieved still.

Astonished as Harry recounted to the room of combatants about how Dumbledore had plotted his own death with Snape, and had planned for the Elder Wand to go to the Potions master, she felt a huge pang of empathy for poor Severus. He had been in the thick of it, and left totally alone when the Headmaster had died. He hadn't even gained possession of the most powerful Hallow, and she hoped he hadn't been too worried about what would happen after Dumbledore's plan had been derailed slightly.

Then the news of his enduring love for Lily Potter had shocked her so much she thought she'd been hit with a Stunning Spell right in the chest. Hermione suddenly felt very small, and foolish for thinking that he might have ever felt something for her. She had truly been nothing more than a distraction from the peril surrounding them. How could she ever be anything else? He was so much older than her: more mature, more experienced. She was just a know-it-all girl, who happened to be friends with the boy he had been trying to help. Still, she swallowed down her injured pride. The fact remained, he was genuinely a very brave man, for all his faults - she couldn't deny him that. And if he chose to use her and cast her aside, well then, that was fine by her - she was a big girl, she'd pick herself up and get over it. She tried hard not to think, a little uncharitably, of going to St Mungo's and begging them to save his life, just so she could kill him again.

It was nearly six weeks following the defeat of Tom Riddle before Hermione saw Snape again, although he had been in her thoughts almost constantly, much to her annoyance. She, like a lot of others, had stayed behind after the battle to help with the clean-up. There were walls to be mended, ceilings to be fixed. She even felt sorry for Filch for the first time ever, as he pottered about the castle, pushing halfheartedly at piles of rubble with a broom. One sunny afternoon, Professor McGonagall took her to one side for a chat.

"Oh, Miss Granger! I'm glad I found you. my dear! Madam Pomfrey has asked me to tell you - she sends her congratulations for your efforts in helping Severus. She told me it was rather impressive work, for someone who has no formal training in Healing."

Hermione offered her a weak smile.

"Oh, it's nothing, professor."

"Oh! I would hardly say it was nothing, Hermione!" The older witch smiled affectionately at her. "Thanks to your prompt intervention, and Mister Potter's testimony, not only is Severus still in the land of the living, but the Ministry has declared him innocent on all counts and he's due to be released from St Mungo's in the next week or so."

Hermione wasn't quite sure how she felt about this. Obviously she was pleased that he was alive, and she very much doubted he would be returning to teach the next year or any other, given that his entire career had been a front for his spying activities, under the safety net of Albus Dumbledore's protection. He'd clearly not be needing either in the future. A lot of the fugitive Death Eaters had already been tracked down and either killed in firefights, or apprehended and taken to Azkaban. Snape's survival had also not been made public knowledge up until then, outside of the few people who had been directly involved in his miraculous escape from death, and subsequent recuperation.

The other people present in the Great Hall on the morning of May second had presumed he had died at Lord Voldemort's hand in the struggle to win the Elder Wand, and even Harry hadn't been keen to disabuse anyone of that notion. He felt rather awkward about the whole thing, and he'd only had a couple of subdued conversations with Hermione about it since. He wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to feel about the man who had marred his school years ever since he had arrived at Hogwarts, now that he knew they had been on the same side the whole time. The reason for Snape's change of allegiance was also an awkward topic of conversation for the both of them.

Hermione rather wished that she had actually developed feelings for Harry instead. Her best friend was everything she could want in a wizard: intelligent, talented and kind. But sadly she still felt nothing towards him more than amicable affection. Just as well really, she mused, as he and Ginny seemed to have rekindled things after their split following Dumbledore's funeral. It was nice to see them happy, at least.

Harry seemed to have realised that there was something going on between her and Snape, at least from Hermione's direction, and the knowledge that the professor who seemed to have gone out of his way to appear unapproachable and inhuman, had secretly harboured a thirty year obsession with his dead mother had been difficult to process. Snape had known Lily Potter longer than his own father had, and he was the only person still alive from whom Harry might be able to get an idea of the woman she'd been. Ron, for his part, seemed to be utterly clueless as to the fact that one of his best friends might have feelings for their dour Potions master.

She supposed he must have thought that the fervent kiss she had pressed to his head that night in the Shack, and her frantic efforts to save him, had been motivated by nothing more than her sheer good-hearted nature and nurturing instinct(!) Ron could be so dense sometimes. All the same, she was rather glad she didn't have to deal with him telling her how gross Snape was, and how gross she was for liking him. He'd be happy to know that Severus was obviously still pining over Harry's mother, and therefore unavailable for any commitment to her.

Realising that McGonagall seemed to be expecting a response from her on the subject of Snape's imminent hospital discharge, she stammered pathetically, "Oh, uh... that's great I suppose, professor. Great."

Frowning, upon seeing her star pupil seemingly lost for words for once, but presuming it to be a side-effect from the trauma she had been through lately, McGonagall took her arm and patted it gently.

"Yes, the Healers tell me they've never seen anything like it. He's made a remarkable recovery, they're very pleased. Poppy won't have too much work to do, I shouldn't think."

Now Hermione was more confused. "Poppy?" she supplied, weakly.

"Oh yes dear, didn't I mention? He's well enough to be discharged from St Mungo's, but seeing as he lives alone at home, they and I decided it was better that Severus return here to the infirmary under Madam Pomfrey's care, just until he's fully recovered. To be honest, it's probably more of a home for him here than Cokeworth anyway, poor boy," the acting-headmistress added, voice full of sympathy. "Always has been. He normally spent most of the holidays here in the castle, from when he was a wee lad, right through until he was teaching and perfectly capable of living independently."

This surprised Hermione slightly, who thought that a committed misanthrope like Snape would surely have jumped at the chance to escape from a castle full of noisy, disrespectful, dim-witted little children who seemingly blighted his life from morning 'til night. She wondered how comfortable he would be with Minerva disclosing intimate details about his private life, even to the girl who had saved him.

"Have... have you visited him? At St Mungo's?" She sounded stupid, even to her ears. Professor McGonagall fixed her with a warm smile.

"Yes, I saw him last week. Have you not been to see Severus yet, my dear? I would have thought... I would have thought seeing as you were the one... you might have-? Has he not asked for you to visit?" She pursed her lips slightly, in a mild version of an expression that Harry, Ron and Hermione were all very familiar with, and which normally wasn't good news when directed at them. Thinking that the last thing she wanted was for an angry McGonagall to march down to St Mungo's and tear Snape a new one for being ungrateful at having his life saved, she stammered out an excuse hurriedly.

"Oh... well... I'm sure he would have, Professor. I didn't know whether he was up for having visitors yet, and I've been so busy lately helping out here to fix up the castle..." She trailed off, hoping that would be sufficient explanation for the headmistress.

"Of course," she smiled indulgently at Hermione, "Well, you'll have plenty of time for him to thank you next week, don't worry. And I'm sure Poppy would appreciate your help with a few minor repairs to the hospital wing, as well as perhaps doing some brewing for her to replenish her stores? I think you've earned a break from doing the strenuous repair efforts by now; I'll let her know you'll be joining her up there, my dear."

Before Hermione could protest, McGonagall had patted her arm reassuringly and swept authoritatively down the corridor and away. She sighed. She still needed to go and find her parents in Australia at some point, so if she met Snape and it all went horribly wrong, she could probably just exploit her newly elevated status due to her key role in Voldemort's downfall to make a hasty exit from the castle and take some personal time. She thought nobody would deny that much to a friend of Harry Potter.