Disclaimer: see One

A/N: The opinion Severus has about Muggle medicine is the opinion of a fictional character, and is not mine, and no offense is intended. It is only natural for a wizard like Severus to be very sceptical about everything Muggle. In real life, I have a deep respect for the work doctors do.
There are going to be nine chapters in this story, but I'm afraid I can't tell you how long it'll be until its completion. So thanks for your patience.

Forward to Time Past

by Claudia

Five

"Professor?"

It took Severus a moment longer to get his bearings than he was comfortable with. He had expected to find himself in the relatives' room, there to browse an old magazine he hadn't had the chance to pick up yet, and to have a soothing drink of tea. Not unlike travelling with a Portkey, the time loop left him with an uncomfortable feeling of having been hurled about by the navel, and sitting down after each new cycle was a good idea. But instead, he found himself at a window commanding the wonderful, by now familiar view over St Mungo's gardens. And the voice was Hermione's.

"Sir?"

He turned around, confused.

"Would you mind?" she asked, her voice sounding unnatural, slurred, slow, as if she had to take great pains to be articulate.

Severus recovered, and wordlessly did her the favour that by now had become a ritual of some sorts. He warmed the towel and spread it over Hermione's bare shoulders. She closed her eyes in comfort at his little gesture. It was touching, he realised, how much she appreciated it. Severus squared his jaw and allowed the ghost of a smile to flit across his lips. So they were back again to this morning. He took his watch out of its pocket and consulted it. The loop has started late.

"Has it?" Hermione asked.

He must have said it aloud. "By one and a half hours," he replied, covering up his slip of tongue nicely.

"How many …"

Severus let her drink some of the water provided in a jug on her night stand. "It's only the fourth loop. You were in a coma once."

Hermione closed her eyes, and she smiled wanly. "I'm sorry for having left you alone."

"Stop apologising," Severus said, more sharply than he had intended. "We're both in this. In fact, it was quite fortunate, so I had the chance to test a theory of mine."

"Could you … have a seat please?" Hermione asked. It must be difficult for her to look up at him, prone as she was in the bed. Severus summoned the chair and sat. Hermione smiled gratefully. "I seem to remember the odd thing about yesterday, but it's all very foggy."

"There is no yesterday, Her … Miss Granger, as well as there's no tomorrow," Severus said gloomily. There wasn't a real yesterday – unless you counted the day before the accident, which he had spent collecting herbs and reading – as well as there wasn't a real tomorrow – the next loop was just a repetition of the previous one, with small alterations, and a next real day seemed like a dream.

Hermione sighed, and closed her eyes. "That's not very uplifting," she said eventually.

He didn't reply anything.

"So what is this theory of yours?"

Glad for the chance her natural inquisitiveness had offered him, he tried at least to employ a neutral tone when he began: "I can go wherever I want. There are no spatial bounds to this time loop. It's very likely that I could take you to other places than St Mungo's. But," and there, he faltered. Que dire? It was a difficult, bizarre enough concept to grasp as it was. The paradoxes of time travel.

"But we cannot be separated for a longer period of time," Hermione said, thus reclaiming his attention.

He nodded. She was right.

"That means, as long …" she interrupted herself, made a face and winced softly. She was in pain. But she would not want a potion against the pain – just as he wouldn't accept her profuse apologies. Despite himself, he touched her shoulder. It was small and a little bit bony under the fluffy towel. She surfaced again, and fixed her eyes on his. He felt a little bit uncomfortable under her gaze, but if it helped her to concentrate …

"We have to stay together," she eventually finished her sentence. She licked her lips. "Where did you go?"

"Hogwarts."

Hermione smiled. With her good hand she touched his hand where it was still resting on her shoulder. He jumped a little. "I talked to Professor McGonagall. She lent me a book by Oswald the Occidental."

"But it wasn't much help," Hermione concluded.

Severus shook his head. "Unfortunately so." He withdrew his hand. It felt cold now that Hermione's wasn't covering it anymore.

"You brought another book, too."

It was amazing how much she remembered from her coma. If only she didn't remember Lockhart's appearance. "I liked it. It sounded good. I can't recall anything in particular, but it felt good." If only Lockhart didn't appear this time.

"I thought that one chapter at a time of Sebekhotep's Book might get a bit boring," he offered, effortlessly slipping back into a more relaxed conversation with her. It was surprisingly easy, and he was very comfortable with it, too.

"Your stay must have been short," Hermione observed.

He looked at her hard. "It wasn't." He paused. "I Apparated directly to my quarters."

Hermione stared at him. "You …?" Her voice trailed off. "Dear Gods."

"Well, it's not as if that's any real danger to anyone, Hermione."

Again, she fixed her eyes on him. Not because of the implications of his discovery – as long as you were trapped in a time loop whatever you did would be erased and rewound eventually – but because he had used her given name. He could see that in her eyes.

"You're right," she conceded.

They sat in silence again for a couple of minutes.

"Take me away. Please," she said eventually. He looked at her. "Please? Se—" Again, her voice trailed off as she was unsure of how to address him now that he had changed the tenor of their relationship.

He let the moment pass. "Where do you want to go?"

"Just outside. We don't have to go far. I just need some fresh air," she said. And there was nothing he could oppose to this. He wrapped her into her blankets, and without further ado made her put her good arm around his neck. Then he raised her out of the bed and into his arms. She was heavier than he thought, and for a moment he staggered and her muffled shriek rang in his ears. But he found his balance soon, and Hermione helped by putting some of her weight onto his shoulders. She grabbed her wand from the bedside table and with a swift "Alohomora!" opened the door for him.

The corridor opened on the hospital park, and warm air was wafting in from the open door there. Hermione smiled and was tempted to kiss him on his cheek, when a voice coming from behind them intervened.

"Oi!" It was a male voice. Severus kept moving; Hermione wasn't getting any lighter, and he didn't want to put her down on anything but a bench outside.

"Oi, mister! What do you think you're doing!?" The wizard's steps quickened on the polished floor boards, and soon he caught up with them.

Severus glared at him. "And who are you? The gaoler?"

If he had been a bird, you could have seen the wizard ruffle his feathers. "I'm in charge of the patients here."

Severus ignored him and started to walk again. An instant later, they were through the door.

"I need some air, that's all," Hermione explained over Severus' shoulder. Her hair was tickling his cheek.

"Why didn't you open the window? You're supposed to be in bed!" the wizard protested.

"No, sir," Severus replied acidly. "This young lady was supposed to survive today, and get her teaching degree."

The wizard stared at them. He wasn't a Healer proper, so he couldn't draw on any authority to order the eloping patient back to bed. He probably even was a only squib, too. "She's not dying."

Severus was furious, and he was certain Hermione could tell from the rapid beating of his heart alone. "What kind of a wizard are you to deny her a last wish?" He continued on his way across the terrace, quickly descended the three steps that ended in a gravel pathway leading down into the grounds. Severus put her down on a bench in the warm sunshine.

"That's a wonderful spot, thank you," Hermione said, carefully putting her injured leg into a comfortable position. She was nearly finished, when the nurse returned with pillows and an additional blanket. He was glowering at them.

"Healer Bones sends these to get you comfortable," he said curtly, handed Severus the bedding and turned on his heel.

Having made herself comfortable with the pillows, Hermione sighed – and yawned. The little trip outside had exhausted her more than she would have guessed. "It's wonderful here. I was beginning to feel trapped in that ward."

Severus merely nodded. The change of scenery had left him a tad uncomfortable, because he had gotten used to the familiarity of the room, and the feeling of security it spread. Out here, the conditions had been changed – in addition to the fact that Hermione was beginning to try the texture of his first name. "I'll get the book and something to eat."

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry," Hermione said.

"Humour me, Hermione."

When he returned from his short trip to the visitors' tearoom a scant quarter of an hour later, Hermione had fallen asleep. Moving her outside had been more exhausting than either of them had anticipated. He set the tray with fruit and sandwiches on the free spot on the bench by her foot. The poor thing, he thought, watching her for a minute or two. He brushed away an errant lock that kept dancing to the slow rhythm of her breathing and that looked very much as if it was tickling her. It certainly would have tickled him. But in this case, it was a great relief to find the hair moving like this. Quite a few things had changed in this loop already – and important things they were, too, that his worry was warranted. The point of time of her last breath might be subject to that change as well.

Despite the sun and his black clothing, he suddenly felt very cold, and he battled with reason whether to wake her or leave her be. But she had been so exhausted. But she might never wake.

His heart constricted at that thought as it had never before since the time loop had started. He wasn't sure for how much longer he could see her die and not be able to do anything. It was simply not right that this talented young woman should survive the war just to die at a Muggle's bonnet.

Severus decided to wake her as gently as he could. After a moment of hesitating, he brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek and softly whispered her name. "Hermione."

Hermione woke quickly enough with a contented sigh that almost sounded like a purr. Her lips curled upward, and Severus thought he heard her whispering his name.

He couldn't be sure, maybe he had just imagined it, but it was such an incentive, erotic moment – strange as it might be – that he felt a pleasant shiver course through his body which ended in his loins.

"Severus?" she asked, looking at him in concern. He realised he must have dropped his mask quite uncharacteristically, and thought he caught himself wide-eyed in Hermione's liquid eyes. "Is something wrong?"

Severus could have hexed himself. "No, don't worry," he tried to say as soothingly as possible. He wasn't any good at soothing, but he hoped that he sounded convincing enough. "How do you feel?"

"Still a little bit tired." Her eyes fell on the food at the other end of the bench. "But the food looks delicious."

He didn't reply anything. He had deliberated long whether to introduce her to this additional circumstance, but in the end had seen no reason not to tell her now, and do it gently. It was quite possible worse if she discovered it by herself. He passed her a triangular tuna sandwich and a napkin, and helped himself to a particularly spicy one with jalapenos and cottage cheese. They ate in silence, but when the hot jalapenos didn't burn up his mouth proved his theory right.

"How do you like your sandwich?" he asked casually.

"You tell me," she retorted.

He gave her a stern look.

"Oh come on," Hermione said, "you're not the type to fuss over simple food like this."

Silently, he gave her the other half of his sandwich. He watched her take a bite.

"Very mild jalapenos," she said, having swallowed her bite. "Or we've lost our sense of taste."

"Would be interesting to find out why that is so," Severus pointed out.

"It's as if The Powers That Be took away that sense to make us look at something else," Hermione reckoned.

"Quite the sense of humour, too," Severus snorted. After all, as Potions Masters, their sense of smell and taste were rather essential for their work. And he couldn't imagine, truly couldn't, what The Powers That Be – as Hermione called whoever it was who held the threads of their fates – wanted them to turn their attention to.

They finished their meal in silence but without the enjoyment that eating in the company of friends usually was. Severus felt a familiar heaviness settle in his limbs once he was finished. It was the sun that made him drowsy. He had never been out in the sunshine very often because of his pale skin.

"You look tired," Hermione said, bending forward in her seat and touching his arm. As if on cue, he felt like yawning, and it was all he could do to hold it back. He hated it when women were right about things like this, it was so … very much like his mother had been. And he didn't need other women fussing over him like his mother had – may she rest in peace. "Gosh, you haven't slept since the accident, have you?" she suddenly realised.

Neither had he been aware of the fact. "I don't sleep much," he tried to dismiss her notion that had touched him, despite everything and despite himself even.

"They say people who don't dream go mad," she continued kindly.

He smiled. "I could do without most of the dreams my mind comes up with."

"You should try to remember the good ones. There must be good ones, too," Hermione said.

She was being frightfully sweet. For once, she didn't try to hide behind the façade of the star pupil. It made him want to weave his fingers into her hair and pull her close and kiss her. Instead, he covered her hand that was still resting warmly on his arm with his own. And stroked the soft back of it with his thumb. He raised his eyes to look at her, and found her looking at him kindly, as if she wished she could do something for him.

Severus was not sure if that was what he wanted.

All of a sudden, he felt trapped in their closeness, and the intimacy of the moment, and it was as if it were suffocating him. It wasn't her, it was just the idea of being with someone again, or not, as he had experienced it so often. Too often. He wasn't cut out for Love from Afar. He was sick of being the secret admirer. So he'd rather stay alone.

He withdrew his hand, and averted his eyes so as not to see her reaction.

"Severus?" she asked. The syllables of his name came more naturally now.

"I'm – what about Sebekhotep's Book?" he suggested. Anything to recover the awkwardness of the situation. She had sensed his emotional withdrawal. Anyone would have, which was good, because that was the point of it, even it was rude.

"Did I say something wrong?" Hermione persisted.

He looked at her. She was truly trying to understand what was going on between the two of them. "No," he said tunelessly, a little mellowed. "No, you didn't."

"Then what—"

"It's me, if you must know." His voice was suddenly venomous enough to make any pupil shrink back, and it was all he could do not to add something hurtful that matched the rhythm of his little sentence.

"Oh."

He opened the book, which he had been carrying around in his pocket, at the chapter he had read her the day before.

"Chapter Eight," he began, and paused as he always would before beginning with the actual chapter.

"Are you quite sure?" Hermione interrupted.

"Well, you were in a coma when I read this one," Severus explained.

"Then let's continue with Chapter Nine," Hermione said. "This is mind-boggling enough, so let's not make things more complicated by changing our rituals. If that's okay with you," she added.

"As long as you can still follow the story," he shrugged.

Again, there was that peculiar look that said something along the lines of "forget the story".

He started anew: "Chapter Nine."

And from then on, his exhaustion was almost forgotten as he found the rhythm and flow of the story and its sentences, but somewhere in the middle of the chapter he realised that, once again, Hermione was right; this wasn't about the story anymore, good as it was, but about keeping up a ritual. A ritual that had them spend time together without it getting too awkward, and that allowed them to keep track of the number of times the loop repeated itself. He just hoped that there were more chapters in the story than loops in this horrible, horrible day.

"End of chapter," he finished eventually, and closed the book without bothering to place some sort of a bookmark in it. It would have been removed by the time the next loop started anyway.

Hermione smiled. "Thank you," and again he had the feeling as if there was more she wanted to tell him.

Maybe, just maybe, he was wrong this time, or rather, his feeling was right. That this time would be different than the others. But then again, why should it? Hermione had always been known to be kind and friendly, if rather bossy at times. Why would she be interested in a sorry old Potions Master like him? It was just wishful thinking, and if he wanted to keep their friendship up – for it was a that, and nothing more – he would have to stop making her responsible for his ineptness at relationships.

"My pleasure," he said. It was easier than he had thought. The space around his heart felt a little wider now.

"Would you mind moving under these trees?" she asked. "It's starting to get a little too hot for comfort here." Having told her to hold tight, he levitated her and the bench into the cool shade of the beech, were grass grew sparsely and the soft, brown soil of woodlands dampened the steps.

"When I'm going to ask you something in a second, do you promise not to get mad at me?" she suddenly said.

Severus was not sure what to make of this. A preamble like thins usually bade no good. "Yes, go ahead."

Hermione took a deep breath, as if this wasn't very easy for her, either. But then, he could always say no – without getting mad at her. "I want you to take me to a Muggle hospital when the loop starts over the next time."

Severus breathed in sharply. A Muggle hospital? Those … butchers with their invasive methods of healing? Who cut people open to— his thoughts faltered. "Why would you want that?" he said, shock and disgust evident in his voice. It was too preposterous.

"You promised," Hermione said.

"I'm not mad at you. Just surprised. And scandalised."

"I can see that," she said.

"Why would you want to go to a Muggle hospital?" he repeated his question. The he realised, and raised his hand to stop her answering. "No, don't tell me. Your parents. They're dentists. Doctors."

Hermione sighed. "It's not because of them. Not really," she said, and toyed with a crease in her blanket. "I just want to know what it is exactly that I die of."

Severus didn't say anything. "And you hope that the Muggles can tell you that before you actually die?"

She didn't reply at once. "I just want to see if they treat me differently for ma injuries than Nicola Bones. It's not about trust, it's … getting a second opinion."

For this, Severus couldn't fault her. It was something he himself had taught her when working with potions: Always obtain a second (or even third) opinion before continuing. "Very well, then. But I can't promise you I'll manage to do it. The loop has started late this time, and so it's no longer in my hands where we go."

"Yes, I know. Thanks," she said with a smile. It was both encouraging and looking for encouragement.

After that they fell into easy conversation about their respective work and food and Hogwarts and life in general afterwards, and time passed quickly. They had to move back inside when Nicola Bones eventually found them under the canopy of green leaves. As it was, the fresh air had been more demanding on Hermione than either of them had reckoned. As soon as he had put her back into her back, she fell asleep.

She woke shortly before it was time for her to go. "This was a lovely day," she said with a smile on her pale lips. The colour had drained out of her rather quickly, and Severus knew there wasn't much time left.

He managed to smile. "Yes, it was." He was afraid. Afraid of being trapped in this loop for ever, of losing her for good, of what expected her when … he would sink into oblivion for an instant, when realising that she had died.

She went peacefully this time, and her hand went limp in his grasp.

There was just enough time to kiss her on the forehead before oblivion enveloped him in its strangely nondescript comfort.