A/N: Here's the next one. Took a bit longer to write than I'd hoped, so apologies for that. Thanks to all who favourite, follow and/or review!
Disclaimer: JKR owns all. I own nothing but a growing collection of Slytherin paraphernalia.
A year ago, the first time she had been in the Slytherin dormitory with the full knowledge and, albeit reluctant, consent of the Head of House, Hermione had thought that the greenish glow coming through the windows from the Black Lake gave the rooms a rather ethereal quality, akin to swimming through absinthe. She thought it appropriate. Though it did no favours for Professor Snape's already pallid complexion, in fact he had looked downright nauseated during their brief, stilted conversation, it did give the impression that Slytherins verily bled green.
She now knew that was categorically not true. In fact, after spending the past 7 hours ensuring that the dungeons were secure enough to not succumb to the force of the water outside, she was quite sure that she'd be perfectly content never to see the colour green again. The only reason she'd stuck it out as long as she had was so Professor Snape wouldn't have to deal with giant squid in the Slytherin common room when he awoke. Although perhaps it could replace the current house mascot. Somehow she didn't see the professor wanting to be around snakes, whether they were in live or portrait form, anytime in the near future.
No one else had thought repairing the dungeon was a priority, which benefitted Hermione with a sufficient level of autonomy to be able to attend to Snape without raising the suspicions of the others who remained in the castle. It was certainly preferable to having to continue using the time turner to sneak down to see him. Gods only knew how many additional months she'd added to her age over the past year. Certainly far more than Dumbledore had likely intended when he'd returned the device to her. Hermione stowed her wand in the pocket of her jeans and slipped back into the professor's rooms.
The fire had gone out again and she shivered. Clearly the house elves had not yet picked up on the fact that the professor remained in his rooms either. Very little could combat the interminable damp of the dungeons. Even a Weasley Christmas sweater would be welcome at this point…
"Where the hell have you been?"
Hermione let out a shriek. "Oh! You're awake!"
"Obviously…"
She rushed to the sofa where he sat propped against one arm and started casting diagnostics. "Breathing appears normal. Blood pressure is slightly low, but that's to be expected given the amount of blood you lost. Pupils are responding normally." She pulled back the blanket and started to pinch each toe. "Can you feel this? Any circulation issues?"
"Miss Granger!" Her fingers froze above his left ankle. "Would you kindly remove your hands from my extremities?" His hands were clenched in fists by his side, and she dared not meet his eyes lest she be incinerated on the spot.
She replaced the throw over his legs and slunk back to the chair across from him. "Sorry, professor." Her filthy jeans didn't do much to help with her sweaty palms as she rubbed them on her lap.
His eyes burned as they swept over her dishevelled state and indignation bubbled within her. She had honestly done the best she could to repair her clothing. The jeans at least held together, despite the blood stains that lingered through several washings of both the magical and Muggle variety.
Hermione risked a quick glance at his face. He was unmoving. "Please tell me that's not my shirt you're wearing."
She cringed. "Yes, well, you see my old shirt was irreparable after the battle, and I don't actually have any other clothing with me, what with having left all of our camping supplies somewhere in the British countryside, and you had a surprising number of t-shirts, so I just thought I'd borrow one or two…or five…" She broke his gaze and crossed her arms in front of her.
Snape cleared his throat. "Are where, pray tell, would my clothing be?"
She'd known he'd be upset about that but honestly. What other option had there been? "You couldn't very well have expected me to heal you while you were covered head to toe in layers of robes, Professor. And to be perfectly frank, I was more concerned about making sure you didn't bleed out from one minute to the next than worrying about your modesty." I mean, at least she'd thrown a blanket over him. And she'd be happy to never think about his scars again, thank you very much.
"Be that as it may, perhaps you would be so kind as to fetch me something to put on so I can get off this Merlin be damned couch. And then you can explain to me exactly how it is that I ended up here."
She accio'd his dressing gown from where it lay over the chair in his bedroom. Probably better that he didn't realize that she'd also utilized it several times over the past week.
"Tea, Professor?"
"I should think this conversation would warrant something a bit stronger, but I shudder to think how fire whiskey would react with whatever potions you've been pumping into me."
She ignored the comment, but thought she could probably do with a shot or two herself. At least boiling the kettle allowed her to give the professor a modicum of privacy. When she returned to the living room, tea tray hovering alongside, he was sitting upright, though by the death grip he had on the side table, she wasn't sure how long he was going to last in that position.
"Sir…are you alright?" He was even paler than normal and his hands were most definitely shaking.
"No, Miss Granger a daresay having my throat nearly ripped out by a giant snake and spending what I can only assume was several days in a potion-induced coma would lead to me being decidedly not alright."
Whatever weakness he may be experiencing, they had clearly not affected his ability to eviscerate polite conversation.
He steadied himself before reaching for his mug, which Hermione had already prepared. "Now, and I cannot believe these words are about to come out of my mouth, kindly start talking."
She took a sip of tea and settled into the armchair. "I am going to assume that you remember what happened in the Shrieking Shack, given that you know you were attacked by Nagini." He flinched almost imperceptibly. "Well, once Harry had your memories, he took off into the castle to find Dumbledore's pensieve. Ron and I went to help the others defend the castle, which I did for about an hour. Then when Ron was distracted with his family – oh, Fred Weasley died during the battle. As did Lupin and Tonks. And Colin Creevey, and..."
"Yes, yes, get on with it. There will be more than enough time later to discuss our losses."
Our losses, indeed. She continued. "We'd been given an hour to retrieve our dead and wounded, at which point Harry was supposed to hand himself over. Just before the hour was up, I used the time turner to go back to immediately after your attack. I couldn't move you, I still had no idea where would be safe, but I was able to get a bezoar and the antivenin into you and patch up your neck enough that you wouldn't bleed to death. By the time I caught up with my future self, Harry had gone and given himself up to save us all." Hermione summarized the remainder of the battle as accurately as she could, keeping a close eye on Snape's reaction. She saw the exact moment when he remembered that the Dark Mark was gone and he gripped is forearm over his sleeve, but didn't interrupt her. "So once everything was said and done, I managed to disillusion you and levitate you down to your rooms where you've obviously been ever since. I stopped the Dreamless Sleep 3 days ago, but you've been taking Blood Replenisher every 8 hours. I know we had discussed this scenario as a possibility, but the odds of you actually surviving were so low after the attack and I honestly didn't know what else to give you…"
He stared straight ahead without seeing, without moving. So she sat, equally silent and waiting for his reaction. He would most definitely have one once the truth of the situation sank in. Eventually her tea turned cold and he started at the clink of her tea cup on the saucer.
"I seem to be at a bit of a loss, Miss Granger."
Okay, not what she had been expecting. "Thank you, Miss Granger," maybe, or "How can I ever repay you?" or more likely "Why the hell didn't you wake me up sooner?" But not this. From the shaking in his hands that had started to increase and the beads of sweat that were breaking out across his forehead, Professor Snape appeared to be panicking.
"Sir, please, you're fine. From what I can tell, there should be little to no lasting damage from the venom. It will take a while for the tremors to subside, but other than that, you should be back to teaching in no time."
"Back to teaching?!" he roared as he shot to his feet. His favourite mug shattered against the fireplace. "In what world would I be welcome back at Hogwarts, Miss Granger? Former headmaster with a long term association with Death Eaters, murderer of Albus Dumbledore, who spent his miserable tenure torturing students. Parents would be simply gagging to have me educate the young minds of the wizarding world."
"No but, sir, you're a hero! Harry told us what he saw in the memories. I mean, you'll probably end up with an Order of Merlin!"
"Of course he did. Couldn't keep that bit of information quiet, could he? Now I'll not only be reviled but pitied. Poor little Snape, so greasy he couldn't even be loved as a child."
He was shaking quite violently now. Hermione could see him swaying to the side and reached out a hand to steady him.
"Don't touch me!" He ripped his arm out of her grasp, in the process sending himself careening into the coffee table. It smashed under his weight. The tea set lay in pieces on the soaked rug.
"Professor! Are you alright?" Again with the stupid questions, she scolded herself. In any case, he didn't respond, apparently unconscious yet again.
Hermione carefully levitated him off the floor. She was really becoming quite proficient at this. The couch was in almost as bad of shape as her clothing, so she opted to move him to his actual bed. At least he wouldn't bleed all over those lovely sheets now.
She tucked him in, doused the lights and partially closed the bedroom door so she would know when he awoke again. With a sigh, she returned to clean up Professor Snape's mess.