Hermione glanced up as a group of fourth-years passed by. The library was unusually busy that night. Studying for the N.E.W.T.s was going to have to wait. Hermione slowly placed her books into her bag and rolled up her sheaf of parchment. She stood, stretching to soothe the soreness from her shoulders.
Hermione didn't regret returning to Hogwarts for her seventh year. She was one of the few who had. Harry and Ron had taken the final exams following Voldemort's death and, having passed well enough, had applied for the Auror program. Almost none of the other seventh-year Gryffindors had returned; only Neville, Seamus, Dean, and Lavender had decided to finish their educations. Of the other houses, Hermione recognized only a few: Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst of Ravenclaw; Hannah Abbott and Zacharias Smith from Hufflepuff; and from Slytherin, it was Draco, Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, and Theo Nott.
As Hermione swept out of the library, Ginny called out her name. "I was just coming to find you!" said the bubbly redhead. How anybody could bounce back from war as Ginny had, Hermione hadn't a clue. But bounce back she had, and she seemed determined not to let anybody wallow in the events of the last year.
"I've only been in the same spot in the library for the past four hours. Quite the mystery," laughed Hermione. They walked in the direction of the tower.
"Well, you missed dinner. I asked the elves to bring you something when you get to your room."
Hermione nodded her thanks. The returning seventh-years had their own wings in their respective houses, as there were so few. Set up like small flats, each wing had a living area, small kitchen, and full suites for each student.
Ginny continued. "So, have you finished Snape's essay yet? I am so close, but I can't get the last three inches." She stopped abruptly, her hand grasping Hermione's arm. A grimace was plastered on her face. "That... came out wrong. Don't tell anyone I said that." Hermione gave a cheeky swat on the arm and laughed. They continued on their way to Gryffindor Tower, chatting and laughing.
When Hermione got up to her suite, she took her steaming mug of tea to the bathroom with her. As she filled the tub and stripped off her clothes, she thought back to early May.
—
Hermione picked her way to the Shrieking Shack. They had been gathering the bodies of those they had lost, and she had remembered that Professor Snape was still out there. As horrible as he had been to them all, he had provided the key to defeating Voldemort. He was a hero, and deserved to be honored.
As she came to where they had left him, her heart skipped a beat. There, on the dirty, cold floor, lay Snape - his eyes open, staring into hers, and his lips moving silently.
Hermione gasped. "Professor!" She ran to his side, falling to her knees. "What do you need? What... what do I do?" She focused on his lips. "Vul... san... Vulnera Sanentur? Is that it?" Snape's eyes fluttered as he nodded weakly. He mimed tracing over the bites.
Hermione nodded, but stopped his movements. "What of the venom?" Snape patted his chest, his wounds still badly sleeping. Hermione felt his chest, reaching into his shirt. "I'm sorry, Professor, but given the circumstances." Her fingers brushed a corked phial and she drew it out. She unstoppered the phial and helped him swallow the potion inside.
Snape's eyes slid closed, his breath becoming shallow. "No, no, Professor, stay with me!" Hermione traced his injuries with her wand, chanting the spell he had taught her. As she closed the last of his wounds, she realized he'd stopped breathing.
"Severus! Don't you dare die on me now!" Tilting his head back, Hermione covered his mouth with her own. Two rescue breaths. Then compressions. She began pushing down on his chest, as she had been taught one summer when she was a lifeguard. She continued this for what felt like ages.
Electricity. She needed to shock his heart. Hermione wracked her brain. She didn't know of a spell like she needed. But she knew that spells could be invented.
She hadn't spent years testing the creation of spells, but she knew she had to try.
Drawing upon the magic within her, she willed it to her palms as she laid them upon his chest. "Please, Severus, come back to us!" Tears fell upon his chest as she concentrated. "Come on, come on, come on, COME ON!" Light flooded the room as electricity flowed from her hands. It entered Snape's chest, arching him off the floor.
As he landed and the electricity stopped, Snape's eyes opened with a snap. A loud gasp came from his mouth. Hermione pressed gently on his shoulders.
"Professor! It's alright, you're alright." She grasped his hand in hers, soft skin meeting callous. "I thought I'd lost you, there. Let's get you to the castle."
As Hermione made to stand, Snape's hand shot out, stopping her. He spoke, his voice raspy, "H-how did you?" He trailed off. Hermione gave him a tired grin.
"Magic."
Snape's hand found hers again. Their eyes met, a warmth in them Hermione had never seen. "thank you." Hermione gave him a soft smile, nodding, before getting to her feet. She helped Snape to his own, and they gingerly made their way to the castle.
—
Hermione drew her knees to her chest. Months had passed, during which Snape had explained exactly what his role had been. The memories he'd given Harry had been used as evidence, along with the Trio's testimonies, of his heroic action to stop Voldemort. He had been cleared.
His eyes had held such warm for that night. They no longer did. Had Hermione imagined it? And why did it hurt when he looked at her now? Why did she crave that warmth?