A/N arabella: no, it wasn't nice at all. Hermione is traumatized. She is in survival mode. When she feels safe enough to gain back a little compassion, she will have some apologizing to do. Francine: yes. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger: pithy, but true nonetheless. Repeated trauma has given Hermione a serious dark side.
Hermione sits on the edge of Severus' bed, holding his hand in both of hers. Time and space have ceased to exist now; her entire being is in stasis waiting for him to awake. She moves slowly, as if she is underwater, as if they are in a dream, to touch his face. She runs her fingertips along the stubble on his jaw, traces his thin, dry lips with her thumb. She runs her fingers through his soft hair, inky black shot through with grey.
"I don't know where you are," she whispers, "But I bet it's nice. You aren't feeling any pain now. You aren't being tortured by unfulfilled desire. But I don't care, Severus. I need you here. I don't want to do any of this without you."
But he doesn't move. He just keeps breathing, soft and light, his chest rising and falling gently. She pulls back the sheet and slips into bed beside him. She marvels at how easily and comfortably her body molds to his. She tucks herself in between his right arm and body, head on his shoulder. Her right hand, still clutching her wand, rests on his chest. His cheek is close enough to kiss, but she doesn't dare. Lulled by his steady breathing, she quickly falls asleep.
Severus is swimming in the black lake. It's peaceful here. The only sensation he has is the feeling of the water, neither hot nor cold, on his body. He cuts through the depths of the lake without effort. He finds he doesn't even need to breathe. The easy sensation is pulling him downwards, into the depths of the lake. He feels compelled to swim ever deeper into the comforting blackness.
But then he hears a voice. It sounds very far away, but it is a lovely voice. He knows that he should recognize the voice, but he just can't. Everything but the comforting blackness of the lake seems very far away now. But while every part of him wants to sink deeper into the abyss, the voice tugs at his heart in his chest. It is the voice of a lovely young woman in despair.
"Severus."
He hears her says his name. He turns away from the black depths of the lake and begins to swim furiously to the surface. He doesn't know why, but he has to get back to that voice.
Snape awakens in the infirmary. He doesn't notice that someone has dressed him in his favorite flannel pajamas. He doesn't notice the full moon, which is now high above the castle. He only knows that Hermione is pressed up against his right side, her curly brown head resting softly on his shoulder. Her right hand, still clutching her wand, rests on his chest. She is sleeping.
Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he works the wand loose from her fist and places it on the bedside table. Then, turning into her, he gathers her even further into his embrace. He exhales one big shuddering breath, and buries his face in her hair.
Hermione awakens again, in the infirmary. She doesn't notice her pajamas, or the moon, now high in the sky over Hogwarts. She only knows that Severus is awake, that he is gathering her up into his arms, kissing her hair.
"You came back," she says into his chest, Her voice harsh and scratchy.
"I heard you," he says, his hand cupping her face. His thumb strokes her cheekbone and she gives a little moan of pleasure. Now that the shock of what has happened is passing, she is becoming increasingly aware of what it feels like to be pressed against his lean body. She feels herself being overcome with a deep ache of desire, and feels a pang of fresh guilt. Severus doesn't want this to happen here.
Reluctantly, she sits up. Snape doesn't protest, although she can see the longing in his face.
"I'm going to send my otter to Madam Pomfrey and the Headmistress. They will want to know that you are awake." she says, reaching for her wand.
He nods. After she does, she gets up off the bed. Snape catches her hand in his. "Thank you, Miss Granger," he says, and she hears a world of meaning in those words.
"You're welcome, sir," she replies.