Disclaimer: Once again, I confess! I do NOT own it. Alas!
A/N: This one is for all you H/Hr shippers out there! R/Hr will come soon, I promise! So read on.
~~~~~
The world was darkened and shadowed. Cloudy hoods shielded his vision, but there was a faint light beyond it. Slowly, it grew. He screwed up his eyes, trying to block out the rays of light sneaking into his vision. But it was to no avail. Harry woke up.
The first thing that struck him was that the room was terribly silent. Gone was the jostling and pushing and yelling of last night. Gone also was the blurred surroundings and pounding headache. He was left only with a dull throbbing in the pit of the stomach, and the feeling that something had been forgotten. That something was missing. And suddenly it struck him.
Hermione!
Jumping to his feet, and crying out slightly at the cold stone floor, he looked desperately to the other end of the room. What he saw there made a cold hand clutch at his insides, and twist them about.
The bed was empty, the sheets new and stiff. The breakfast plate was absent from the table by it's side. There was no nurse on duty.
He stumbled backward, dumbstruck. It had to be a dream.... Some horrible...
Horrible...
....Dream....
He continued to falter backwards, tripping slightly, trembling inwardly as the full meaning.
Hermione, dead?
But it wasn't fair! All of the things that she still had to see, to dream, to fight for! She was supposed to be there for him! Right up until the end.... It wasn't supposed to end like this. God sakes, she had never even had a chance to fall in love!
He paused, shocked at his thought.
Love? What's more, with who?
And it was with these as his thoughts that he tripped over something furry behind him, which howled loudly. To further the bad situation, he tumbled into something soft and blanket-covered, which cried softly. And there he found himself, in the lap of his 'dead' friend, laying on her bed.
To say Hermione had seen better days would be like saying 'Gee, Snape is in a good mood today' after he had just ripped up your potions homework and tossed it into your cauldron. There were large circles under her eyes. Her skin was pale as last night, lacking only a bit of it's previous waxiness. She looked down at him with a bleary confusion unlike her. She blinked her large chocolate eyes.
"Ah!..oh... Harry!" She smiled suddenly, and sighed softly, "Your awake..."
She heaved a gentle sigh. He sat looking up at her as if he had never seen her before. He also seemed rather slow to move....
"Er....Harry?"
"Yes?" He squeaked.
"Could you get off of my lap? Please?"
He leapt off of her as if she had suddenly caught fire. Looking rather confused still, and a bit shocked at himself, he stared bashfully at the floor, as if his composure had fallen on it and he was trying to retrieve it. Finally he looked up, remembering the previous night. He stared at her.
"Hermione!" He shouted, quivering.
"Yes?" She cocked an eyebrow tiredly.
"Your...your supposed to be dead!.... I mean, that is to say, I'm...I'm glad your not...but still... Oh, your alive!"
Giving up any other words, he hugged her. She smiled gently, and returned the hug, albeit a bit tiredly. Settling her head on his shoulder for a moment, they remained together, comfortable, and yet unaware of why neither wanted to move. Harry clung tightly, a flurry of thoughts somewhere between thankful and terrified flung themselves through his mind.
Finally, they separated. Harry remembered for the first time in the past few minuets just how tired he was, as he sank exhaustedly against the bedframe. But another thought jarred him back into wakefulness. He sat up quickly and looked around.
"Hermione, what happened to Ron?" He inquired.
Before she could say anything, there was a slight clinking behind them. The door opened, and both their heads turned to meet the gaze of Dumbledore, Mcgonagall, Snape, and Madam Pomfrey.
The nurse immediately busied herself in the corner, preparing tea for the two invalids. The other three bustled over to their bedside. Snape was the first to arrive. Without a word, he seized Hermione's face in his hands and turned it towards him. He looked into one of her eyes, then the other. He opened her mouth, turned her head from side to side, and finally placed his fingers to her wrist, still looking intently at her in a way that suggested that he was extremely angry about something. But at last he spoke, and his tone was far gentler than anything Harry had ever heard from him, or indeed thought possible. Inexplicably, his face softened to something bridging on concern, and even slight awe.
"Mrs. Granger, I congratulate you." He muttered in his smooth, icy tones, "You are the first person in recorded history to ever survive a dose of 'Cantalis Aphrenibria' that large. And let me say, that is an accomplishment even YOU should be proud of."
Hermione stared at him, her eyes wide. She looked rather bewildered, and a tad ruffled from the rough handling.
"Er...thank you..."
She looked curiously from Dumbledore, to the nurse, to Mcgonagall, and last to Snape. She waited for them to say something, unmoving, silent.
"Get some rest, Hermione." Professor Mcgonagall murmured finally, pressing her back onto the bed, "Harry, you come with us. Dumbledore wants to speak to you in his office."
~~~~~
Seated in the corner, his hands folded neatly on his lap, he awaited the return of his headmaster.
Tick, tick, tick....
The clock in the background sped onward, listing away the minutes that added to the hours which he had been waiting, listening to the frantic whispers of the three teachers in the other room.
Tick, tick, tick....
He glanced nervously at the doorway. His heart skipped a beat as it creaked open suddenly. But he was only greeted with Snape, who entered silently, clenching his fists, near to the point of drawing blood. But he was otherwise outwardly calm.
"Potter." He said shortly, nodding curtly.
Tick, tick, tick....
"Professor..?"
Snape gave him no notice, but proceeded to the window, and stared outside at the dimly-lit fields through the off-hue glass of the room. His hands were now gathered behind him, the fingers twining and untwining.
Tick, tick, tick....
He turned silently, outlined in the light streaming in. He walked to another window, and leaned forward, hands clenching the iron sill. His shoulders slumped forward a bit.
Tick, tick, tick....
A gentle breath escaped him, as if he were about to speak. Moments passed, Harry holding his own.
Tick, tick....
The fingers released the sill, and gathered behind him again, knotting tightly.
Tick....
"Ron has been captured." He hissed, back still turned.
The world fell gently away from him. He stared at the wall, his heart beating a wild hammer. Trembling, he somehow managed to gather his wits.
"H--how? By who?" He stammered.
Snape went on to explain the past nights events which had been gathered together to the best of their ability. He finally trailed off at the point of Harry's return, and went silent again. The room was plunged into quiet.
"And Hermione?" Harry creaked out at last.
"She is very sick, Potter. I am not sure what more we can do for her."
Harry couldn't contain himself anymore. This was too much.
"And why did YOU come out to tell me? What happened to Dumbledore?" He yelled.
"So that you could understand that I am going to help you, and to prevent any more foolish assumptions on your part. We don't want another 'first year', do we?" A bit of his old venom seeped back into his voice.
"No," Said Harry quietly, "We don't."
Without another word, he walked out of the room, the clock ticking busily behind him. He paused in the doorway.
"How much longer does Hermione have?" He asked, his voice shaking. Tears dared to show themselves on the rims of his eyes.
"A week." Snape replied with breath alone, his back still turned.
Harry ran from the room, down the corridors, his footsteps echoing behind him. Snape stood, still staring out the window at the grounds. His nails bit vehemently into his flesh, blood beginning to leak out of the wounds on the back of his hands.
A single tear dropped from his cheek and onto the iron.
"Potter..." He whispered softly, "Damn your luck, Potter."
He left the room, the tinted sunlight, and the clock, still ticking in the corner.
Tick, tick, tick....
Time was running short.
