HEARTS AND STONES

This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and situations elaborated herein.

A/N: Spoilers. Thanks to all my reviewers.

Hermione's knees were beginning to ache and her face was getting hot from the flames. It was a pity telephones didn't work at Hogwarts. She'd never really got used to floo-calling nor to the strange effect of Ginny's face floating in the fireplace, flame-coloured hair blending seamlessly into same-coloured flames.

"Is he awake?" Ginny asked. She'd heard the news at St Mungo's while being treated for a broken arm after a Quidditch match. She leaned forward and Hermione caught a glimpse of golden talon on her dark green Holyhead Harpies shirt.

"He was yesterday but only for a few minutes. Not only awake but lucid."

"What did he do?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Nothing. He recognised me but he thought I was still in school. Called me Miss Granger and asked after some – friends," she couldn't think of a better word though she was sure he'd never thought of Harry as a friend, no matter what his feelings might have been for the other three, "and then he was too exhausted to stay awake any more and he hasn't woken since."

"He thought you were still in school? So he doesn't remember anything in between? Then I suppose he's still in love -"

"No." Yes.

"You're only saying that because you still hate him," Ginny told her.

"I never hated -"

"You can call it whatever you want -"

Hermione scowled and fiddled with the Holyhead rosette her friend had thrown into her lap at the start of the conversation. She didn't want to talk about that letter. Not now – or ever.

"What about you, Gin? You told me you loved someone you couldn't have. I thought you meant Harry but you've turned him down again and again. So who was it?"

Ginny's lips tightened and her eyes were like chips of dark amber.

"Come on, how bad could it be?" Hermione broke the silence. "Crabbe and Goyle? The Lestranges? Lucius Malfoy?" She knew it wasn't the younger Malfoy. Ginny had turned him down almost as often as Harry.

Ginny mouth twisted suddenly.

"Worse."

"Worse than Lucius and Rabastan? How could it be?" Hermione snorted "Don't tell me you loved Voldemort from afar?"

She wasn't expecting the sticky pause or the funny shape Ginny's mouth made. Ginny's eyes flickered away.

"He wasn't Voldemort when I knew him," she murmured.

Hermione's stomach dropped. It took three gulps before she could speak.

"Gin! But it was all a fraud. He was using -"

"Do you think I don't know that? I'm not stupid, Hermione! I know he didn't care about me at all. I was just his killing tool. I keep telling myself that. But he's different in my dreams. And until he stops coming to me there –"

Hermione shivered with sudden cold.

"He comes to you in your dreams? Why didn't you ever tell anyone? It could be a remnant from when he possessed you!"

"He doesn't have power to make me do anything for him any more. Not since Harry destroyed the diary. I just dream of him; that's all.' She tossed her hair back from her scowling face. "It's nobody's business but my own."

"Gin -"

"Go back to your patient, Hermione. He's getting rather loud. Are you sure he isn't awake?"

"I set watch-wards over him. I'll know if he wakes. No, he's just delirious. He's all right for a while then he starts tossing and turning and muttering, something about hearts and stones, whatever that means, and then he gets all soaking wet from fever. I've been mopping him down every hour but it only helps a little."

"Go and mop him down again then and let my love life alone. It's about as non-existent as yours."

Hermione grimaced. That was more truth than she wanted to hear right now when she had to face again the one person who had ever really looked at her and liked what he saw. She set her teeth. She wasn't that desperate, to like him back just because he - liked her.

She emerged from her office only to find Varvara lounging against an empty bed. The girl bundled up her lumpy green and silver knitting into her schoolbag and looked up hopefully.

"Is he -"

"No change." Realising she still held the rosette Hermione pinned it on to her robes rather than waste time putting it away. "I hope you're not expecting him to thank you because I don't think he will."

The girl's hazel eyes lit with mischief.

"He taught me for two and a half years, Madam Granger. I haven't forgotten what he was like." She pushed a dark curl off her face. "But he did save our lives that time and there's a bunch of us who want to thank him. You could say I'm just the head of a deputation."

"If he wants to see you when he wakes I'll let you know," Hermione said, wondering precisely how vitriolic her patient would be if that Slytherin-coloured mess of wool was meant for him.

She waited till the girl was gone before entering the curtained cubicle and releasing the wards. Snape was muttering again, his long body twitching in uneven little jerks. Conjuring a fresh damp cloth she moved forward but as she bent over him to smooth the limp sweaty strands from his face his body stilled and his voice steadied.

"Hearts, as faces, time retraces;
Flesh and bone to rock and stone."

She stepped back, casting a quick glance over the bed. Nothing else seemed to have changed. Was that couplet the key to his illness, perhaps the curse incantation that had been used against him? Casting a quick glance over him she bent again. This time as soon as her hand touched his hair his eyes snapped open.

"Six and a half years I taught you," he sneered, "and you still don't know when your help is unwanted."