The Dark Curse Ward of 's was sterile-while, full of buzzing noises and blinding flashes of runes, monitoring the unstable condition of its most seriously injured patients; and disgusting as ever. Severu's gaze swept around the hospital room once more before he sat down heavily on a hard chair and prepared himself for a long wait. It had taken longer than anticipated to get Hermione to 's Hospital; her feverish breathing had been laboured as if she was running for her life. There was a large lump on the left of her temple and a thin scar on top of her forehead which had bled profusely before the Healers could stop the waves of darkness, emanating from it. She looked even paler than before, her skin was covered in goosebumps, despite her many blankets and the warm temperature of the ward. Severus clenched his fists and leaned his head on his knuckles. He remembered how weak and helpless Hermione had felt in his arms during his panicky attempts to get her to safety. To think that he had almost lost her. Again. What the hell did he do to deserve this kind of torture? How did he end up becoming someone who willingly allowed others to die rather than helping them live? He wasn't sure anymore. He just knew that he refused to watch as Hermione Granger died once more.
He lost counts of just how many dark spells the Healers were able to take off Hermione, yet, and he was sure, the darkness still lingered there, in her scars, in her blood and in her magic. She would need all the help he could provide her with, he would be there for her all the way down the long road to recovery. For who if not Snape was the Master of Dark Arts? He would see that she survived and she would live the life she deserved!
A knock on the door caused him to rise to his feet. A Healer poked her head inside the room and asked, "Is everything alright, Mr Snape?"
Severus nodded curtly as he replied, "It will be."
She smiled kindly, "Good. We'll be taking her away now. You can come and visit her whenever you want. But now, I'd advise you to go home, eat something, change and try and get some sleep. It's been three days, after all, since you are stuck by her bedside."
"Thank you, I appreciate your advice, Miss Brown," he replied, bowing slightly.
As soon as the Healer closed the door behind her, Severus rested his weary head on his arms. Lavender Brown who just appeared to be that particular Healer, had been right: he was almost falling asleep on his feet, he should go home... Life was a strange thing, Snape contemplated while staring at crispy white sheets on Granger's bed. Lavender Brown, the impossible gossip girl who cared more about her own appearance than her grades became a Healer specializing in dark curses. What sort of person did it take for Lavender to become that? Was it really a curse or a blessing, perhaps both? Perhaps there was no such thing as fate; perhaps there was only destiny that kept guiding people along their paths, whether it was a good one, a bad one or a hopeless one. Or maybe... just maybe he was too tired for philosophical thoughts. And then there was Draco Malfoy, his own godson, who surprised all of them by choosing the career of an Auror for himself! He had enough of his family's mentoring and his dark past, so he befriended Potter and tagged along with him to the Auror Department. If it wasn't for Potter, what would have become of the young man? No doubt, Lucius Malfoy would be grooming him for a prestigious position within the Ministry, as he planned to use him and his connections to manipulate the Wizengamot and the Minister for Magic to ensure the future survival of the Malfoys. However, Lucius and his never-ending ability to establish social connections in one's own interest never ceased to amaze Snape. In fact, it seemed like every year he found some new talent for manipulating events and influencing people, and always in the same manner. And then there was Harry James Potter, who had somehow managed to become friends with Draco and Severus himself.
Snape let his thoughts wander, remembering how exactly he had found himself in a compromising position of being friends with "The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-Him-To-No-End".
Two years ago Harry looked expectantly at Snape, who was busy with some brown brew boiling in a copper cauldron. Potter knew from experience that it was deadly dangerous to distract Snape when he was working on potions. Although most of the time his former professor only pretended to count the seconds and the stirrers of the stirrer clockwise or anticlockwise, Harry preferred not to annoy him, just in case.
The fact that Potter had saved his life back in the Shack by unceremoniously ransacking Snape's pockets and shoving a bezoar deep in his throat hardly warmed their relationship of mutual dislike. Of course, they worked side by side and were forced to cross each others' paths three hundred times a day. Snape became a frequent visitor to the growing Potter family house. Attending the holidays on the occasion of the birth of another baby, then conducting a blessing ritual with Molly Weasley in honour of the acquisition of magic by a new toothless Potter or Weasley, Snape gradually learned to rejoice along with all the Potters and Weasleys, but he still grumbled and did not intend to stop anytime soon. Harry smiled in greeting and adjusted his glasses, annoying Severus even more. So they became friends - and it was a strong friendship built on mutual discontent.
"Potter, don't stand there, put your takeaway coffee on my table and tell me why the hell you're stuck in my doorway," Snape grumbled, reducing the heat under the cauldron and straightening up.
Harry beamed at him and walked over to the table.
"I want to talk about Hermione, Professor. I am worried about her. Have you noticed anything suspicious lately?"
"How can I explain to you so as not to offend your incredible powers of observation, Mr Potter? She rose to the rank of Lead Auror, beating even you in battle magic. Her mental shields are so strong that even I need at least twenty minutes to break through them. The Muggle police have hired her as a freelance consultant, and in her spare time, she helps them catch drug dealers. What else? She is rarely at home, preferring to hang out in bars and seek out affairs for one night. As a rule, by the morning, her suitors find themselves behind the bars of either magic or ordinary prison, depending on what she chose the night before. And the nickname Mad Fury was given to her not to underline her outstanding mental abilities. Is that what you wanted to know?"
"Oh, come on, Professor Snape, you perfectly understand what I mean. Although, to be honest, your tracking spell works wonders. Something strange is going on with Hermione," Harry began, taking a sip of his drink. Snape sat down expectantly in front of him and delightedly pulled his take-out coffee to him - he and Potter had a shared passion for cheap swill. Much to Hermione's annoyance.
"So what is so strange about Miss Granger?"
"She seems to be playing some role as if her life is a game of play-pretend and she doesn't care whether she lives or dies at all."
"How poetic, Potter, didn't you think about writing books when you get tired of Aurory?"
Harry ignored his former professor's remarks and continued to think aloud.
"I'm already used to the fact that she risks her life on a daily basis, this is Hermione we are talking about, she was never an exemplary girl, this is something else. Every time Ginny and I invite her for holidays, she is polite and wary. She brings gifts and she gossips with Gin. She has long conversations about the latest Muggle news with Arthur and she praises Molly's cooking. Children adore her. They all dream of playing with her, and she keeps promising to take them to the Museum of Natural History and tell them everything about dinosaurs one day. She even made up with Ron!"
"But something still seems to be out of place."
"That's right. She celebrates Christmas with us as if she is being forced to, and at the same time, I see that she is desperate to be a part of a family. Hermione laughs with everyone, tells different Aurory tales, and then she just leaves Grimmauld and rushes into another adventure, each one more dangerous than the previous one."
"What do you want me to do, Potter? Hermione won't knit you all colourful scarves by the fire. Can you even imagine her surrounded by pans and children?"
Harry choked on his coffee. Snape patted him sympathetically on the back so strongly that his bones cracked. The professor's hand was still heavy.
"Honestly, you would fit more into the kitchen. I still remember that Shepherd's Pie that you and Molly baked for a bet during the last Christmas celebrations. And the children love you."
"Which is strange by itself, isn't it?"
"It is," Potter shuddered.
"What would you have me do if Albus Severus is showing good Occlumency skills, and the only specialist to help him learn that particular skill you have available is me? Although I confess, I still don't understand why you hate your own son so much, Potter."
Harry snorted: the argument over his middle son's name and the professor's grudges about it was a running joke in his family.
"Oh, no need to retell this old story here: you were in the hospital, I did not hope that you would survive, and the ghost of Dumbledore repented of his own sins publicly and demanded that he kept the post of a Chief Wizard in Wizengamot posthumously."
"Yes, and you were so imbued with these events that you decided to reward your future offspring with the names of two people who barely tolerated each other all their lives?"
"Well, maybe I made a mistake..."
"Have I lived to see the day when bullheaded Harry Potter simply admitted that he could be wrong?"
"Come on, Professor, Al' loves you, you have a close bond with him. Everyone is happy. I actually came here to talk about Hermione, and you keep jumping off the topic."
"Well, you admitted that Granger won't make a good wife. Working as a librarian is too boring for her. The ministry is mired in corruption, as we have already understood. What do you want from her?"
"I want my friend to come back to me!" Harry cried.
"Don't yell, Potter, you'll scare my experimental potion," Snape winced, but Harry continued waving his arms.
"You do not understand! Once a month, the three of us — she, Ron, and I — have a Friday binge. We order takeout, bring old movies, drink beer, play cards, and share news. Ron and I usually fall asleep after the third can of beer, and Hermione eats her ice cream until morning, watches Breakfast at Tiffany's, and bursts into tears. Can you imagine the Mad Fury crying over a melodrama? And then Saturday comes, and she turns into a badass Auror again."
"You know, Potter, even I had a teddy bear as a child. And I even loved him."
"Stop it, Professor. You understand perfectly well that she seems to forbid herself to be happy, therefore, whenever possible, she avoids family gatherings, avoids children, and has not been building relationships for more than one night for a long time. But she collects troubles, as I collected pebbles in my childhood."
"Well, everyone has the right to childhood traumas. Potter, calm down and put your wand down, I won't let the Cruciatus be thrown in my lab. Let's say you're right, so what do you want from me?"
"Talk to her. You are the only one Hermione is still able to listen to."
"I can already hear her colourful commentary, something like this: "Sod off, Severus, I don't need psychotherapy, and if Harry pokes his nose into my life again, I will... "
"... kick your arses! Both of you," Hermione finished her speech and entered the laboratory. "Criminal is in the interrogation room, potion-" she reached into her pocket and tossed the vial to Snape. "Here, take the potion. And if I hear you discussing my life behind my back, I will not look at the fact that we are friends, I will kill you two on the spot and I will slowly and with sadistic pleasure watch how the Auror Department is falling apart without you."
Without waiting for an answer, Hermione billowed her robes in a perfectly Snapish fashion and disappeared.
Now Snape just let out a heavy sigh and finally closed his eyes. More than everything in the world he wanted Hermione to come back to them. To come back to him...
When she woke up a couple of hours later, she found Severus' sleeping form next to her, his fingers resting just inches from her body. More than everything she wanted to reach for him and touch him, more than everything she wanted to go back home.
And yet...
Hermione breathed out with difficulty and closed her eyes. She was too damaged, too broken, too tired, and just...too much for a person like Severus.