Barely... His life could have been described by just this one word if he had ever bothered to question such trivial things. After everything he'd endured, what should he have expected? It was hardly a shocking revelation that he found himself staring into his reflection and wondering when it all went wrong.
He went day by day, step by step, breath by breath. Sometimes he wanted to burst into that damned Auror Department and Avada each and every one of them for their false promises, their idleness and general doom of things. Their Head Auror had been missing for almost half a year for now! And what the merry bunch of idiots were doing? Reassuring him that everything was going to be okay and they monitored the situation!
Of course, no one knew what was going on, so it wasn't as though they could tell him anything. And no matter what he said they wouldn't listen and continued to assure him that everything was fine until the moment the next pathetic fool came in to take his spot at the top of their stupid pyramid.
He let out a long sigh and wiped his forehead with his shaking hand. He barely slept these days. His nightmares plagued him at night, but during the day he managed alright. At least he had someone to talk to, or so they said. Even if that someone wasn't the one to listen to him.
Severus let his hand slip from the sink and rested it against it. He closed his eyes tightly and drew a deep, slow breath, willing away the image of her. He didn't want to remember the pain of having her ripped out of his life again. He opened his eyes and stared into space, thinking about nothing in particular. Occlumency helped just as much. It could get him through the day, but when the night fell down, his guilt and remorse engulfed him again.
What was she to him? He barely knew the answer to that simple question anymore. Yes, she was the Head Auror and he was working in the Potions and Dark Artifacts Department. They shared the same floor and sometimes had a pint on Friday evenings when she wasn't seriously injured or bone-tired and he managed to break yet another dangerous curse. Sure, they were acquaintances, for the lack of a better word. But he hadn't thought more about her. How she liked to read books and paint her fingernails blue and how she smelled like lavender and tobacco, after having smoked half of the package of cigarettes on especially bad days. And how the entire Department feared the Mad Fury for the life of them. And how sometimes only he could reason some ideas into her too stubborn head. Those were the only things he remembered about her.
He missed her. A lot. And he wished he had been able to see her that last night before the world ended. He missed her laugh, the way her voice sounded when she cursed under her breath. The warmth he felt in her presence was something he could not explain, or maybe simply did not know how. Severus remembered with enduring pain ripping through his chest how he tried to talk her out of that dangerous mission to Albania. But she didn't even listen, and then she told him that she was doing her best for the greater good, and she wanted to "screw up" the remaining bunch of the Death Eaters and stop them from creating yet another doom on Earth. Then she disappeared. And the team of best Aurors with her.
The old good Harry Potter, the former bane of Snape's existence, was the only one left in England. Ginevra was in labour and a future father-to-be, of course, couldn't have left his ginger-haired wife to suffer alone. Ron-bloody-Weasley tagged along after Hermione in a vain attempt of proving her his worthiness. Bloody hell...
But then the merry idiot Weasley lost his life and the hand of his clock had stopped for forever, breaking Molly's heart and adding more grief to the doom of a once happy family. Now, there was nobody to protect her. No one else had come to save her when he failed to, and no one else understood the kind of danger Hermione was putting herself in.
It was all his fault. If he had been stronger, faster, smarter, he could have saved her. He could have protected her. He could have prevented her from leaving. He could have stopped her from sacrificing herself for the thrice damned Greater Good.
He could have saved her.
His heart ached painfully at the thought. He had failed her. Just like every one of them did. He could barely focus on anything else than his endless trying to find any traces of her. The days dragged by, summer had transformed into autumn and very soon the first snow would cover the ground. Snape walked to the window, lit a cigarette and stared blankly into the starless sky. The smoke was burning in his lungs, but the sensation never changed. When did it become easier than breathing?
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The taste of smoke mingled with the smell of blood from his last battle on the battlefield. It was strangely comforting.
Six months and barely any trace of her. It made no sense. Yet he was nothing if not patient and stubborn. Had she been more injured and suffering somewhere? Was she dead in a ditch somewhere and that was why they still had no clue where to find her? The Mad Fury couldn't die! Not her. Not Hermione.
He let his cigarette drop from his lips and crushed it under his heel with the sole of his shoe. A tiny voice in his head whispered to him that she might have been imprisoned, and tortured, they would probably have tried to break her, to bend her will, ruin her. Snape gritted his teeth. He could kill them all with his bare hands.
"Severus, you are barely an epitome of light, but you are not a murderer either." He remembered the words she once told him after they tried to drown yet another failed mission in a bottle of ol' good Ogden's.
"What am I now, Hermione? I barely know the answer myself," Severus whispered into the dead of the night and closed his eyes.
He breathed out slowly and leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window. He stared into the distance, letting his mind wander aimlessly. Time passed. And time slipped away. Until finally, he turned around and stepped back into the room. It was already past midnight, and the fire in the hearth was dying out. He stood motionless for a few seconds, staring down at the blackened ashes. He felt the bitter taste on his tongue.
He sighed. He should try and get some sleep, for tomorrow was going to be yet another hard day, and he'd better be at least partially rested before yet another fight. For the lack of better trainers, Severus and Potter took it over themselves to train the new Aurors, and for the last six months, Severus had been taking part in the fieldwork, often leaving him cursed, injured and mad at himself for yet another failure. He sighed in defeat as his body trembled with fatigue. He sat down heavily on the sofa opposite his desk and rested his weary frame against its plush cushions.
He looked around the room, remembering everything that used to be there. All his belongings were gone. The only thing remaining was the single photograph sitting upon the mantelpiece. It was a picture of Hermione in her Mad Fury mod. She was wearing standard blue and silver robes and held onto her wand confidently. The enchanted dagger on her hip and a bunch of amulettes on her neck. She was ready to conquer the world, and Severus smiled softly as he gazed at her.
"How I miss you, my hellcat," he mumbled quietly as he reached out to touch the glass covering her smiling face.
How she would have scolded him now for being a pathetic fool! In her absence, Severus knew that that moment would arrive soon, the portrait of Dilys Derwent would do the necessary thrashing-down just fine. Not to mention Minerva McGonagall who took it upon herself to enquire about his wellbeing, if his current poor excuse of living could be referred to as such anyway. What he really needed right now was a good dose of Ogden's or a Dreamless Sleep. He would go out there and grab one. He needed to forget the pain and sadness and sorrow that consumed him every waking minute. He needed to forget his broken promises to the people he cared about most. He needed to forget how many people he had failed.
For once, he didn't need to hide behind the mask of Snape. That man who used to wear a dark cloak and hid behind a stoic face was gone, and in his place laid the person he once was, and the man he wished he could have been. The person he wished he still could be.
With a bitter humourless laugh, he remembered his half-drunken pathetic speech about the sun rising and bringing new hope to yet another day. They both were drunk like bastards, it was three hours before New Year and they couldn't have found a better place than Snape's Potions lab in the Department. Hermione looked at him, her gaze unfocused and her chin resting on her hand, as she tried to make some sense out of his slightly blurred words. Of all the possible drunken conversations, he had chosen to speak about hope!
"It's of utmost importance, Granger, that you remember the reason to wake up and drag your arse to yet another doomed attempt at saving the world! Not everyone could do what you are doing here, lass. You fail but you never give up, because deep inside that tangled mind of yours you have hope. The sun will rise again if you win and if you lose, for it always does just that, it rises!" He finished his silly speech and hiccuped.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief before she gave up trying. After that, she didn't say another word. But it didn't change the fact that a small smile touched her lips and she couldn't help but think that Severus Snape wasn't what anyone would consider a pleasant conversation partner... He sounded like Albus Dumbledore, and yet, there was something in his words that made her pay attention. Something that made her want to keep listening. And so she did.
They went through the rest of New Year's Eve in a similar fashion. It was one of those nights that he cherished above everything. When they laughed and drank and reminisced about their own life. She was the only one that could put up with the snarky git he had always been and would forever be. The only one that could see beyond the cold facade that he put up to shield his emotions. She was the only one that could truly look in his eyes and understand all the emotions that haunted them.
Severus stood up, stretched and dragged his exhausted form to the bedroom. His head was spinning and everything hurt everywhere. He threw himself onto the bed and lay there for a while, too tired to even move. Slowly, he exhaled and closed his eyes, willing his turmoil of emotions to hide behind his shields and ignoring the headache already burning behind his temples. But before long it started throbbing mercilessly and he realized just how bone-tired he actually was. How much work he still had to do. How much research he still had to prepare for the next hunt on Dark wizards that seemed to come with every second. How many hours he still had to spend trying to prevent just yet another doom, while Hermione was still there, somewhere, suffering and probably injured... Severus squeezed his eyes shut, it would do no good if he died from fatigue.
He would try and get some sleep. If only just barely.