Hermione was slowly regaining consciousness. She had no idea as to how
much time had passed. The hands were gone once again, but so was a lot of
the physical pain. There was some mild pressure and discomfort; nothing
she really couldn't handle. She was still very tired though. Dreamless
sleep was not as effective as regular sleep. She would have to face the
nightmares sooner or later.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and squinted into the light that was around her. It wasn't very bright, just dim candle light, but her eyes were used to the darkness that accompanied her sleep. It was quiet, and she dared to try and see her surroundings. Upon moving her head, however, she was shot with more pain to her head and neck. Muscles were protesting their sudden movement after remaining in that position for so long, and she groaned slightly.
She decided that more time was needed, and she allowed her head to fall back onto the pillow. She began to roll herself to her side to aid in her quest for a visual inspection of her surroundings. As she turned, she noticed that there were wraps on her left arm, and she vaguely remembered that she had landed on it during the last bits of the battle that she could bring to memory.
As soon as she fell to her side, she felt a gentle hand on her arm that pulled her back to her back. She squinted her eyes, trying to ignore the pain of doing so, and attempted to see whom the owner of that hand was. Her eyes would not focus on anything but the candlelight, however. She felt a cold hand reach underneath her head and slowly lift it. A flask was placed at her lips, but this time she refused it. The person tried to coax her into drinking it, but she just wouldn't allow it. As soon as the liquid touched her lips, she tightened them closed. After a few more attempts, whoever it was gave up on it.
"Please." She could hear a voice say softly in her ear.
"No. I don't want to sleep." She said, her voice cracked from the lack of use.
"It is not a sleeping draught. It will help with the pain." The voice said. She recognized it, although she remembered a harsher tone to it that was not present in it now. The hand lifted her head once again and replaced the flask at her lips. This time she drank it and screwed her face up at the disgusting taste. This sent another shot of pain through her head and she thought she would spit the liquid out. She forced herself to swallow it.
A few moments after she swallowed, the pain began to slowly lessen. After a few minutes, she was able to open her eyes more. She still had a shot of pain through her head, but it was more bearable for her. She squinted towards the visitor, but still could not make out whom it was. She could sense that the candle by him was being moved. A few minutes more, and she could make it out. . .it was Professor Snape.
"Are you feeling better, Miss Granger?" He asked softly.
She was still slightly surprised that he was the one who was coaxing her to take the potion, that he was concerned for her welfare. She simply nodded slightly, and received another shot of pain through her neck and head for her efforts. She groaned.
"Relax. You've been through a lot." He said.
"How long?" Was all she could get out before her voice began to crack again.
"It's been 4 days since the final battle." Snape replied. "You are making progress in your recovery, and I. . .we assumed that you would want to attend the memorial services in the next few days."
She than remembered who had been lost: Ron, Harry, Dumbledore, and the list went on. She nodded again, this time receiving very little pain. She continued to lie there, staring straight up at the ceiling. Snape continued to sit beside her, reading the book that he had brought with him. Finally, she spoke.
"Thank you for your help, Professor." She said, eyes not leaving the ceiling, and not blinking.
"Think nothing of it, Miss Granger." He said.
They continued to sit in silence, Hermione not wanting to move, but at the same time, not wanting Snape there to comfort her. His mere presence was comforting her, and she did not deserve that. She voiced her appreciation in hopes that he would get the message and leave. When she saw that he had no intent on doing so, she was tempted to be more blunt. But how could she do that? He was trying to help 'But he's wasting his time on me. I'm sure he has other things to do.'
She let out a sigh, which got his attention. He looked up from his book at her, and noted that she still had not looked away from the ceiling. He knew how she was feeling, and he deliberately stayed. He would go soon, let her be with her own thoughts. But for now, he wanted her to know that he would listen if she needed someone to speak with. It may be irritating to her now, Merlin knows that he would have been far less quiet about another's presence, but he hoped it would serve a purpose later on.
A few more minutes passed, and the dinner bells chimed. He spoke up. "I'm going to go get some dinner. Would you like me to bring you back something?" He asked, knowing what was coming.
"No thank you." She said, a bit relieved that he would be leaving her to wallow in her own misery. He nodded, and left the chair he was in, and made his way to the dining tent; the makeshift Great Hall until Hogwarts was repaired.
He arrived at the tent and took a seat at the table with the least number of occupants. There were not many conversations going on to disturb him, but he wasn't going to take the chance, not that there were many present who would speak to him. Despite his hard work as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix, he was thought of as scum; worse than scum. A former Death Eater. He wasn't going to try to argue with them, it was true after all. His time spent as a spy was only meant to redeem himself in his own eyes. He was a lone figure. He didn't enjoy the company of others often, and when he did, it was the people with whom he respected and those who could tolerate him. He wasn't going to change just because the war was over. He would still be his sullen self. He was comfortable with that. Being exiled was nothing new to him.
He sat and thought about what he could do to help Hermione. Many would probably want to see her as soon as they could; ask her questions until she was ready to cry for mercy. He didn't think that would really take all that long considering her condition and the fact that she was somewhat the same as him. Sure she wasn't as sullen or as miserable as he had been, but she had the same attitudes in regards to company. How she was able to stand Potter and Weasley at all was beyond him.
Potter and Weasley. Both were close friends of hers, and neither here to help her get through this. She didn't have any family. There was no one that he could consult with if he hit a bump in the road, so to speak. He didn't even have Albus to consult with. He would have to improvise. It was a good thing that she was of age. Otherwise she would either be sent off to some orphanage until she turned eighteen, or someone would surely adopt her, and he'd be unable to reach her. No ministry member in his or her right mind would ever allow him to adopt the girl if it came to that. He felt that no other would be able to handle her as well as he would.
Thoughts back to Albus, his heart was slowly repairing itself after he watched Albus fall to the ground. It was utter shock. Albus was indestructible, or so he believed all these years.
Shaking his head, 'I should not be concerned with my own well being.' The memorials would begin in the morning.. He would have to keep an eye on her. See her reaction. If he knew anything, she would probably be in a state of catatonia the entire service. That was expected. He would than leave her be for some time while her conscious fights with reality and illusion about the dead. He wouldn't completely leave her. He would keep a close eye on her until she finally cracked. She would. He had many times, and it never got any easier. With all those she had lost, he wouldn't be surprised if she tried to hurt herself.
Eating little of the rations brought with the Aurors, he brought out a smaller plate, and put some food on it. She may be hungry, even though she would deny it. She hadn't eaten anything for a full week now. She stayed at the front lines until the end. Getting up, he headed for the hospital tent, and approached the spot she was placed.
As he approached, he heard a man's voice and Hermione's soft cry for him to leave her. Severus approached the bedside, and indeed, there was a man there questioning her. She asked him repeatedly to leave her be, and even tried to get up from the bed to walk away. As soon as the man noticed that she was attempting to avoid him, he put both hands on her shoulders, and pushed her back down hard.
"Come on, Miss Granger. The people have a right to know!" The man said, presumably from the Daily Prophet. "What did it feel like?" He continued.
"Please leave me be!" Hermione cried, neither one noticing Severus approach. Snape brought both hands down on the man, grabbed handfuls of his jacket, and pushed him out of the vicinity.
"I suggest you leave." He said, pure venom dropping from his lips. The man took a look at his attacker, about to say something. He spotted who it was and cried, "Help! Help!"
Instead of Aurors, a very exhausted and irritated Madam Pomfrey approached the pair. "What is going on here? There are patients trying to get rest!" She hissed.
The man turned to her, "This man is a former death eater. He's threatening me! He may try to harm Miss Granger." The man rushed.
Poppy looked at Severus, and cracked a small smile. "Severus, you go check on Miss Granger. I'll deal with this." To both men's surprise, Poppy grabbed the intruder's ear and pinched. "Now get out of here before I call the Aurors. You know that no reporters are allowed in the hospital area." And with that, she pulled the man out, placing the wards around the tent so that he would not be able to return.
As amusing as that scene was, Severus turned back to Hermione, who was now in the fetal position on her bed. She was hiding her face, but obviously distraught and crying. Severus approached the bedside, and knelt beside it.
"Hermione." He said softly. She looked up at him in surprise. Severus picked her up, and cradled her in his arms. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he placed her head in the crook of his shoulder and placed his arms around her, no words of comfort, no rocking. He just held her. She began to let some of the pain she was feeling out. The more she released, the better she would be in the end.
He continued to hold her, and she silently cried. "Hermione, it's okay to let it out. Just let it out." He said softly. She didn't make a sound for a few moments, until she said, "Please put me down." Her voice was cracked, and the tears were still falling from her eyes. "I don't deserve comfort. Please let me down. Just leave me to my own devices." The voice was growing weaker.
"Miss Granger, you need to get it out. It will help-"
"No! I don't deserve comfort! I deserve to suffer! I watched them die and did nothing. . .NOTHING to help them! I didn't even mourn them! I have no right to help! Just let me. . .let me. . ." And with that, she could no longer get any more words out. The sobs racked her body, and Severus continued to hold her. The tears continued to fall, and she began to calm down. When Severus was sure that she was asleep once again, he slowly stood, and placed her on the bed. Bringing the sheets over her body, he cleared some of the hair, wet from her tears, away from her face. Even in her sleep, the tears continued to fall. Her face did not look peaceful. She would be in for a long night.
Severus sat back down in his chair, and picked up his book. Before he knew it, he drifted off to sleep.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and squinted into the light that was around her. It wasn't very bright, just dim candle light, but her eyes were used to the darkness that accompanied her sleep. It was quiet, and she dared to try and see her surroundings. Upon moving her head, however, she was shot with more pain to her head and neck. Muscles were protesting their sudden movement after remaining in that position for so long, and she groaned slightly.
She decided that more time was needed, and she allowed her head to fall back onto the pillow. She began to roll herself to her side to aid in her quest for a visual inspection of her surroundings. As she turned, she noticed that there were wraps on her left arm, and she vaguely remembered that she had landed on it during the last bits of the battle that she could bring to memory.
As soon as she fell to her side, she felt a gentle hand on her arm that pulled her back to her back. She squinted her eyes, trying to ignore the pain of doing so, and attempted to see whom the owner of that hand was. Her eyes would not focus on anything but the candlelight, however. She felt a cold hand reach underneath her head and slowly lift it. A flask was placed at her lips, but this time she refused it. The person tried to coax her into drinking it, but she just wouldn't allow it. As soon as the liquid touched her lips, she tightened them closed. After a few more attempts, whoever it was gave up on it.
"Please." She could hear a voice say softly in her ear.
"No. I don't want to sleep." She said, her voice cracked from the lack of use.
"It is not a sleeping draught. It will help with the pain." The voice said. She recognized it, although she remembered a harsher tone to it that was not present in it now. The hand lifted her head once again and replaced the flask at her lips. This time she drank it and screwed her face up at the disgusting taste. This sent another shot of pain through her head and she thought she would spit the liquid out. She forced herself to swallow it.
A few moments after she swallowed, the pain began to slowly lessen. After a few minutes, she was able to open her eyes more. She still had a shot of pain through her head, but it was more bearable for her. She squinted towards the visitor, but still could not make out whom it was. She could sense that the candle by him was being moved. A few minutes more, and she could make it out. . .it was Professor Snape.
"Are you feeling better, Miss Granger?" He asked softly.
She was still slightly surprised that he was the one who was coaxing her to take the potion, that he was concerned for her welfare. She simply nodded slightly, and received another shot of pain through her neck and head for her efforts. She groaned.
"Relax. You've been through a lot." He said.
"How long?" Was all she could get out before her voice began to crack again.
"It's been 4 days since the final battle." Snape replied. "You are making progress in your recovery, and I. . .we assumed that you would want to attend the memorial services in the next few days."
She than remembered who had been lost: Ron, Harry, Dumbledore, and the list went on. She nodded again, this time receiving very little pain. She continued to lie there, staring straight up at the ceiling. Snape continued to sit beside her, reading the book that he had brought with him. Finally, she spoke.
"Thank you for your help, Professor." She said, eyes not leaving the ceiling, and not blinking.
"Think nothing of it, Miss Granger." He said.
They continued to sit in silence, Hermione not wanting to move, but at the same time, not wanting Snape there to comfort her. His mere presence was comforting her, and she did not deserve that. She voiced her appreciation in hopes that he would get the message and leave. When she saw that he had no intent on doing so, she was tempted to be more blunt. But how could she do that? He was trying to help 'But he's wasting his time on me. I'm sure he has other things to do.'
She let out a sigh, which got his attention. He looked up from his book at her, and noted that she still had not looked away from the ceiling. He knew how she was feeling, and he deliberately stayed. He would go soon, let her be with her own thoughts. But for now, he wanted her to know that he would listen if she needed someone to speak with. It may be irritating to her now, Merlin knows that he would have been far less quiet about another's presence, but he hoped it would serve a purpose later on.
A few more minutes passed, and the dinner bells chimed. He spoke up. "I'm going to go get some dinner. Would you like me to bring you back something?" He asked, knowing what was coming.
"No thank you." She said, a bit relieved that he would be leaving her to wallow in her own misery. He nodded, and left the chair he was in, and made his way to the dining tent; the makeshift Great Hall until Hogwarts was repaired.
He arrived at the tent and took a seat at the table with the least number of occupants. There were not many conversations going on to disturb him, but he wasn't going to take the chance, not that there were many present who would speak to him. Despite his hard work as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix, he was thought of as scum; worse than scum. A former Death Eater. He wasn't going to try to argue with them, it was true after all. His time spent as a spy was only meant to redeem himself in his own eyes. He was a lone figure. He didn't enjoy the company of others often, and when he did, it was the people with whom he respected and those who could tolerate him. He wasn't going to change just because the war was over. He would still be his sullen self. He was comfortable with that. Being exiled was nothing new to him.
He sat and thought about what he could do to help Hermione. Many would probably want to see her as soon as they could; ask her questions until she was ready to cry for mercy. He didn't think that would really take all that long considering her condition and the fact that she was somewhat the same as him. Sure she wasn't as sullen or as miserable as he had been, but she had the same attitudes in regards to company. How she was able to stand Potter and Weasley at all was beyond him.
Potter and Weasley. Both were close friends of hers, and neither here to help her get through this. She didn't have any family. There was no one that he could consult with if he hit a bump in the road, so to speak. He didn't even have Albus to consult with. He would have to improvise. It was a good thing that she was of age. Otherwise she would either be sent off to some orphanage until she turned eighteen, or someone would surely adopt her, and he'd be unable to reach her. No ministry member in his or her right mind would ever allow him to adopt the girl if it came to that. He felt that no other would be able to handle her as well as he would.
Thoughts back to Albus, his heart was slowly repairing itself after he watched Albus fall to the ground. It was utter shock. Albus was indestructible, or so he believed all these years.
Shaking his head, 'I should not be concerned with my own well being.' The memorials would begin in the morning.. He would have to keep an eye on her. See her reaction. If he knew anything, she would probably be in a state of catatonia the entire service. That was expected. He would than leave her be for some time while her conscious fights with reality and illusion about the dead. He wouldn't completely leave her. He would keep a close eye on her until she finally cracked. She would. He had many times, and it never got any easier. With all those she had lost, he wouldn't be surprised if she tried to hurt herself.
Eating little of the rations brought with the Aurors, he brought out a smaller plate, and put some food on it. She may be hungry, even though she would deny it. She hadn't eaten anything for a full week now. She stayed at the front lines until the end. Getting up, he headed for the hospital tent, and approached the spot she was placed.
As he approached, he heard a man's voice and Hermione's soft cry for him to leave her. Severus approached the bedside, and indeed, there was a man there questioning her. She asked him repeatedly to leave her be, and even tried to get up from the bed to walk away. As soon as the man noticed that she was attempting to avoid him, he put both hands on her shoulders, and pushed her back down hard.
"Come on, Miss Granger. The people have a right to know!" The man said, presumably from the Daily Prophet. "What did it feel like?" He continued.
"Please leave me be!" Hermione cried, neither one noticing Severus approach. Snape brought both hands down on the man, grabbed handfuls of his jacket, and pushed him out of the vicinity.
"I suggest you leave." He said, pure venom dropping from his lips. The man took a look at his attacker, about to say something. He spotted who it was and cried, "Help! Help!"
Instead of Aurors, a very exhausted and irritated Madam Pomfrey approached the pair. "What is going on here? There are patients trying to get rest!" She hissed.
The man turned to her, "This man is a former death eater. He's threatening me! He may try to harm Miss Granger." The man rushed.
Poppy looked at Severus, and cracked a small smile. "Severus, you go check on Miss Granger. I'll deal with this." To both men's surprise, Poppy grabbed the intruder's ear and pinched. "Now get out of here before I call the Aurors. You know that no reporters are allowed in the hospital area." And with that, she pulled the man out, placing the wards around the tent so that he would not be able to return.
As amusing as that scene was, Severus turned back to Hermione, who was now in the fetal position on her bed. She was hiding her face, but obviously distraught and crying. Severus approached the bedside, and knelt beside it.
"Hermione." He said softly. She looked up at him in surprise. Severus picked her up, and cradled her in his arms. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he placed her head in the crook of his shoulder and placed his arms around her, no words of comfort, no rocking. He just held her. She began to let some of the pain she was feeling out. The more she released, the better she would be in the end.
He continued to hold her, and she silently cried. "Hermione, it's okay to let it out. Just let it out." He said softly. She didn't make a sound for a few moments, until she said, "Please put me down." Her voice was cracked, and the tears were still falling from her eyes. "I don't deserve comfort. Please let me down. Just leave me to my own devices." The voice was growing weaker.
"Miss Granger, you need to get it out. It will help-"
"No! I don't deserve comfort! I deserve to suffer! I watched them die and did nothing. . .NOTHING to help them! I didn't even mourn them! I have no right to help! Just let me. . .let me. . ." And with that, she could no longer get any more words out. The sobs racked her body, and Severus continued to hold her. The tears continued to fall, and she began to calm down. When Severus was sure that she was asleep once again, he slowly stood, and placed her on the bed. Bringing the sheets over her body, he cleared some of the hair, wet from her tears, away from her face. Even in her sleep, the tears continued to fall. Her face did not look peaceful. She would be in for a long night.
Severus sat back down in his chair, and picked up his book. Before he knew it, he drifted off to sleep.