Summary: Hermione goes back to the Final Battle to save the one person who she believes shouldn't have been allowed to die, even knowing that she'll be ripping herself from every other timeline. AU from beginning of epilogue on.
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own these characters. The epilogue wouldn't have been in Book 7 if I did.
I'll Give You All My Futures
Chapter 8: The Forest Again
"Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy." – Albus Dumbledore
May, 1998
As soon as she cast the spell, Hermione began to count. Cursing at them in her mind, she wanted the Trio to just move, to get out, so she could get down to help. As soon as the door closed behind them, she moved. Not bothering with a spell in her haste, she practically fell from the rafters, her wand still tight in her fist, impatiently letting the cloak that had hidden her fall back where it had been snagged in the rafters and stay there. Its magic was almost done anyway, it didn't matter.
22 seconds.
Hermione didn't even bother looking at all of the blasted buttons. A quick and carefully aimed slicing hex opened the high necked frock coat and once more for the white shirt beneath it.
Not even bothering with the seconds it took to search her pockets, she said, "Accio bag."
It flew to her outstretched bag as she quickly opened it to aim her wand inside, "Accio anti-venom."
This part was tricky. Nagini had been a fairly one of a kind snake. Her venom had been used to synthesize the anti-venom that had eventually led to the cure of Mr. Weasley. The problem had been getting it from St. Mungo's. Most had been used for experimentation with other compounds, so she had managed to get some under that pretense. The problem with that was that they had given her far too little for a quick healing job. She had stopped short of actually stealing anything she needed, like one of the Auror's charmed invisibility cloaks. Harry offered to lend her his, no questions asked, but she didn't want to risk it on a venture like this and have it left in the past, maybe to never be seen again.
Gripping her wand handle in her teeth, she unscrewed the bottle and carefully used the dropper and sprinkled the anti-venom into the first strike into his neck, the golden drops vanishing into the deep gouges. Where most snakes used their venom to paralyze their victims so they could devour them, Nagini's seemed only serve the purpose of making her meals bloody. Hermione didn't understand it, but she wasn't trying to understand the bloody snake, she just wanted to fix her damage.
40 seconds.
The stopper clinked back into the bottle. Her teeth dropped her wand into her hand and sliced open his coat and shirt over his left shoulder. More anti-venom went into the bite there. Inside her head she was focused, concentrated. Venom would make him bleed out. First, counter the venom. Then, stop the bleeding. Then, replenish blood. Then work on anything else.
55 seconds.
Hermione cut two more slices, this time on his side, the fangs had sunk into the gaps between his ribs. Then, jamming her wand back into her hair to free both her hands, the bottle balanced between her left fingers, she splayed open the fabric with her hand as she dropped anti-venom into the wounds, trying to ignore the other signs of healing wounds and yellowish-green bruises only just beyond the vicious stabs of Nagini's fangs.
Going in the order that the wounds occurred she realized might be a mistake, but it was too late now. Leg bite, leg bite next, the arm could wait. As she sliced open the leg of his trousers, she started violently cursing the blasted snake as she worked. There wasn't enough blood here which meant that he had bled out mostly from the other wounds. At least the femoral artery was still intact and not torn, for which she was grateful to whatever luck Snape had.
70 seconds.
Another four drops went into the wound on his leg. She ignored the arm for now. It was not actually a wound that would be great enough to kill him in the first few minutes. Everything else might. Quickly capping the anti-venom, she dropped it back into the bag.
"Accio dittany," she said with another wave of her wand.
83 seconds.
Hermione dropped a liberal amount onto the neck slice, before going over the other cuts that she'd already dosed with the anti-venom. She'd researched and cross-researched to make sure that they would each complement each other in this situation.
100 seconds.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione whispered, "Finite Incantem."
Immediately she saw the results as the wounds all at once began to hiss as the dittany tried to close the wounds, fighting with the anti-venom against Nagini's work. Thankfully his heart hadn't been strong enough due to blood loss to pump the venom throughout. He wasn't breathing. He didn't have enough blood for that. That meant he needed blood for her to start his heart, and she had a potion that she was sure he'd choke on if she tried to get him to force swallow it now, if she could get him to swallow at all without it all being poured into his lungs.
"Accio syringe," she said, waving her wand at the bag. Inside her head, she was counting, but for a different reason this time. The brain needed oxygen before it died. It needed oxygen from blood. There were very few things that she could fault the wizarding world in, but it was missing a significant amount in certain medical sciences. Hands-on medicine was dismissed as almost completely Muggle and purebloods so actively shunned it that certain things like syringes and injected medicines were almost completely ignored, amoung other things like psychology, for example. She'd had to modify the potion to a less potent form and add blood components for the direct injection.
15 seconds.
Syringe in hand, she sliced open his right sleeve from the shoulder down to bare his upper forearm. It needed contact with muscle, but had to avoid major nerves and arteries, very similar to the reason why the upper arm was chosen for other injections. Stabbing it into the meat of his arm, she used only half of the full syringe. The plume of color in the paler then death skin showed it working. But it would stay localized if she didn't start his bloody heart.
27 seconds.
"Incursu minima," she whispered, her wand forming a bolt in the air above his chest and his body convulsed slightly. Checking his pulse at his neck, she found it there. Weak, but there. The movies were dramatic. Sometimes it only took one shock. Thankfully. She hated that spell. But it meant she didn't have to count anymore.
"Ebublio oxygenis," Hermione whispered again, a bubble forming over Snape's nose and mouth. The increased oxygen would help brain function. Checking his arm, she found the color spreading out and up toward his chest and down his arm. Arm!
"Shit," Hermione swore as she transferred her attention to his left arm which was now beginning to bleed again now that there was blood to do so. But as she was about to cut again into his clothes she realized she had another problem.
"Accio dittany," she said clearly, but not without a little bit of panic.
She sprinkled it liberally over the neck slice. The first dose hadn't fully healed the artery. She didn't have enough healing knowledge for a spell to knit the specific artery itself back together, she wasn't even sure there was one. Still panicking, she ran over the wounds again with her eyes, and then felt for his pulse. Still weak, it was barely there. She needed more time.
"Im-," Hermione caught herself. Not with the bubble charm in effect. Cursing in a rather obscene manner under her breath about demon-snakes, evil wizards, and stubborn gits, as well as stupid witches who did things like go back in time, she began working faster, summoning bottles, applying her last round of anti-venom to the wounds, as well as more dittany to their now healing surfaces. She hated that snake. Hated, hated, hated that thrice-blasted thing. Even as the skin tried to knit itself together in front of her eyes, she could practically see the venom trying to counteract it.
The neck gash was almost completely healed. An extra two Vulnera Sanentur sealed it completely. You should have thought of it before, stupid girl, Hermione thought to herself as she recited Healing passages in her head, spell is good for surface wounds as well as deep gashes. The others though…. A quick diagnostic told her the rest. He desperately needed more blood.
"Accio Blood Replenishing Potion, bottle one," she said as the bottle flew from her bag and into her hand.
The bottle was one of the many that she had been so tirelessly brewing in her flat. Uncorking it with her thumb, she dismissed the bubble charm. Moving herself up and close to his left side, she stuck her wand again firmly into her hair before cradling the back of his head as she gently tipped the potion into his mouth. The result was almost instant as he coughed and choked, but managed to swallow as she saw his throat muscles constrict. Laying off, she sat back again. At quick spell showed him miraculously stabilizing. She conjured the oxygen bubble again. He still didn't have enough blood to get enough oxygen to his brain. Only then did she take in everything.
Blood was everywhere. Looking at the half-empty syringe, she cleaned it with a quick Tergeo. If he could swallow, he would be fine, but she wasn't taking chances as she flicked her wand, sending it capped and back into her bag. It was only then that she really took in her appearance.
Hermione was in blood almost up to her elbows on both arms. The small school robe was ruined for sure. Blood stained the sleeves, but thankfully it had acted almost like an apron and had saved most of her clothes underneath. Snape was… Snape was still a bloody mess. He was breathing high and fast now, but even that seemed a good sign right now. His coat. God, his coat was a ruin. Cuts ran it to pieces everywhere. She was shocked that it hadn't vanished to dust yet. She had the sudden and unreasonable urge to start mending it, but she knew that was stupid. It was soaked in blood, the shirt under it, wherever it peered through, was red. It was shocking orange-red, not like the deep red that was used to paint blood. It smelled. It smelled like death and mold and blood, metallic and sweet.
Hermione stopped, knowing that she was almost going into shock herself. She needed to stay focused. She went over him again with another diagnostic spell. Bleeding, there was still bleeding. Neck wounds were closed and closing, still bloody, but oozing, not streaming. His leg was knitting together, as well as his shoulder. Baring the fabric at his side, she hissed out a breath. The wounds were trying to close, but there was now bruising underneath the skin. The anti-venom must not have reached into the wounds and he was still bleeding, but more internally now. She hadn't thought of it, but then he hadn't had the energy to cough up blood before now did he?
Her brain immediately began spinning through her healing texts that she had read and practiced. Something, something, something about the concentration and focus being the key. Something to get the bad blood out…
"Advoco sanguinem," she cast finally, her wand carefully trained on the wound which now began to run red with blood again. She felt her head begin to ache as she concentrated, calling out the bad blood from the wound, leaving his lungs clear. In her mind she pictured it, willing her wand to carry it out. A quick diagnostic spell one more pronounced his lungs clear of blood.
"Vulnera Sanentur," she said again, this time picturing the wounds knitting together, beneath the skin, the wounds healing. By the time she got him stabilized again, she almost collapsed. She was draining herself too quickly. Vulnera Sanentur was advanced magic and she hadn't had much practice with it. It was one of those spells that the witch or wizard developed a tolerance for the more they cast it. She didn't have that and she'd cast it now four times.
Stay focused. She needed to leave here. In less than an hour, the battle would truly begin. Reaching out for her bag, she was hit with a wave of exhaustion that had her blinking spots out of her eyes. It was something more than just the magic she'd cast, but she tried to ignore it as her fingers closed around the bag as she drew it into her lap. From where she sat, she could at least help with his arm. Drawing his left arm into her lap, a Diffindo sliced the sleeve open once again. She tried to ignore the black mark on his skin as she cut the fabric from his wrist to over his elbow.
The wound was angry and red, the sides were torn and open from where the blasted thing had thrashed and hung onto him. Bruises stretched across his arm, standing out sharply against the pale skin. Blood was a brownish red in some places where it had started to dry.
Shakily, Hermione reached for the vial of anti-venom, applying a few drops to the wounds in his arm before capping it and dropping it into her bag. Dittany came next. She wished she could have managed another healing spell, but the adrenaline was leaving her as it was and she still needed energy to Apparate. The wounds still bled, but she could see it slowing. Checking his pulse again, she felt it there. It was still too weak, but it was there. Sighing, she dropped the Essence of Dittany back into her bag. She might need it later, and she only had the one vial.
Grasping the Blood Replenishing potion, she knew that she would have to have him drink almost a steady amount for some time, especially considering Mr. Weasley's treatment years ago. She just didn't know if she could get him to drink the rest yet. Half of what she had poured had been choked up and spilled down his chin. His breathing was better, she could tell. Frowning, she cast a brain diagnostic spell. Checking the points of light that appeared, she let out a sigh of relief. Everything was lighting up normally. Dismissing it, she felt the exhaustion hit again, letting the potion bottle fall into her lap as black spots danced in front of her eyes. Cursing, she realized she really shouldn't be trying to Apparate yet.
Hating herself, Hermione reached for the Mors Potestas potion in her bag. It was one of the things she didn't want to have to use, but had packed anyway, just in case. She wasn't even sure why she had included it, it wasn't exactly safe to use for extended periods of time. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
The potion was the magical equivalent of taking out one's own bone marrow, turning it into blood, and then using it to replace one's own blood. It took the magic from the witch or wizard's lifeforce to replace the "working magic" that a magical person could use. She didn't want to use it, but she just couldn't afford to stay here. And, Hermione looked over at Snape, she definitely couldn't afford to splinch someone still suffering from acute blood loss.
Biting her lip, she flicked back the top. Wrinkling her nose at the smell, she quickly took a swallow. The terrible smell completely contrasted with the sweet taste. Closing her eyes, she felt the heat hit her stomach almost as powerfully as alcohol. It felt like a burst of energy and she could suddenly feel her magic again. It was a high. Everything seemed clearer. Hermione forced herself to focus, overcoming the magically induced rush.
Running the diagnostic spells again across his body, she could still see the weakness points flaring orange, but at least they weren't red. He was still missing too much blood. Dismissing the bubble charm again, Hermione summoned the Blood Replenishing potion back to her hand. Sliding up closer to his head, she wiped her hands as well as she could on her robes before trying to help cradle his head as she brought the bottle to his lips with her other hand. His eyes flickered behind his lids as he choked and swallowed another two mouthfuls. The rest of the potion spilled down the corners of his mouth. His face was still too pale. All of his skin was. Feeling his forehead, she found it was cold and clammy.
They needed to leave. They needed to be gone before the hour reprieve from the fighting was over. She wasn't even sure how much time had passed since the initial two minutes. Hermione vanished the first bottle of Blood Replenishing Potion. Checking one last time for his pulse at his neck, she grabbed the bag and stuck it in one of her pockets. Then, wrapping her arms as much around Snape as she could, she Apparated.
There was only one safe place that Hermione knew during the battle and shortly after. She had tried to find a safe house that would admit them, that would be empty during the Battle of Hogwarts and after, but nothing had been consistent. When the Order had gotten the call to fight, many stayed behind either because they were victims, injured, refugees, or simply Healers waiting for patients. After the battle, the safehouses had been used to catalogue the dead and heal the injured. Some had even been used for prisoners, what few they had been able to capture. So ironically perhaps, she had chosen the Forest of Dean, closer to the lake this time. At least it was warmer. When she arrived however, she didn't have much time to admire the weather.
"Shit! Shit-shit-shit," Hermione cursed as his blood began flowing in earnest.
Apparating must have somehow jarred the magically healing wounds. As she frantically separated herself from him to go for her wand, she kept at a litany of curses. She should have known. And now here they were in the open. She didn't know which danger to address first.
"Immstatis Mortis," she said quickly, causing Snape's body to collapse lifeless against the grass.
Frantically, she summoned the dittany once again out of her bag as her eyes frantically took in her surroundings. This was still war time, and dammit her reflexes weren't what they were and she didn't have the still honed reflexes of an Auror like Ron or Harry. She should have at least had some practice training, but she had been thinking of everything else. Adrenaline and the after effects of the Mors Potestas carried her through as she started counting again.
10 seconds.
Throwing off both robes, her charmed one and the school robe sticky now with blood, she freed her arms for the more complicated wand work. The dittany joined them on the grass. Wards first, the healing. Wards at least she hadn't gone soft on. If anything, she had improved since her sixth year at throwing them up and keeping them strong. The first layer was simple protection from offensive spells.
55 seconds.
Concentrating on counting and spellwork was growing difficult and she was growing increasingly thankful for whatever insight had made her pack that potion. The layer of disillusion charms came next. Basic for now, everything could be reinforced later.
87 seconds.
Barely letting herself feel the exhaustion that was trying to overwhelm her, Hermione threw herself back down to the grass beside Snape. She needed to actually see everything now. A quick slash cut the string of buttons down the frock coat, peeling it open from where it was sticking to the shirt beneath and the skin beneath that. It was the side that was the true problem. Side and neck, she needed to get them under control, then leg, shoulder, and arm.
102 seconds.
Slicing open the shirt beneath it, she paused for a moment to hiss in a breath before she forced herself to ignore to mottled bruising covering the skin, as well as the scarring, and instead focus on the current and deadly issues at hand.
Readying herself and her wand, she whispered, "Finite incantem."
Instantaneously, the wounds began to stream blood again. At least the first neck slice had stayed healed, but she wasn't actually surprised since that one hadn't been directly affected by the damn beast.
"Vulnera Sanentur," she whispered, working frantically on the bite on his neck which still seemed to be the worst.
A second one went to the one in his side, and a third to one in his leg. Thanking God for the potion's effects yet again, she summoned the dittany from where it was on the grass. Checking his breathing and pulse as she went, relieved that it was still there and she didn't have to start his heart again, she sprinkled a bit more of the dittany on the wounds.
"Accio Blood Replenishing, bottle two," she said, flicking her wand at her bag.
He needed to choke down a few more swallows before he was out of danger. Scooting up on the grass so that she could lever most of his upper body up and across her lap, she put the potion bottle to his lips. Gently pouring, she managed to get him to cough and choke down another few swallows before she capped it and set it aside. They were both filthy now by this time, but she wasn't going to waste time with cleansing spells, not when he might need another bout of healing sometime in the near future.
Content that he was at least out of danger for the moment, she conjured another bubble of oxygen around his nose and mouth. It would still serve him well to get the extra oxygen, at least until there was enough blood to circulate a normal amount. Slowly, she lowered him back to the grass. Taking up the school robe from where it was tangled on the grass, she threw it over his prone form. Stopping a moment to catch her breath, she set up a quick alarm spell to ring out if his condition changed. Then, she went back to her other robe.
Inside the robe she had charmed various pockets to hold specific objects. By the time she had finished, she felt very much like Mary Poppins packing up her bag, even more that she had in the summer after her sixth year. Feeling for the blue thread on the inside right, she tore open the pocket and with it the protection charm that she'd keyed to herself. Inside, she drew out the wizard tent.
It was frightfully basic as far as those tents went, but she wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible if she could. Thankfully, it was a one flick set up. Disappearing inside, she found everything as she'd left it. It wasn't even as spacious as the one she'd secured that fateful summer finding Horcruxes. Frankly, she'd been a bit disgusted with herself for that. There was a double bed that she'd left made up like a hospital bed in preparation for her guest, on a slight rise to the left that was separate from the main area of the tent. On a rise to the right was a "kitchen" area that Hermione had adjusted so that magic didn't have to be used during the actual food preparation.
There was a table, two chairs, and shelves on one side of the tent on the lower level. There were also two comfortable sofa chairs facing a fireplace. One of the best features however was the washroom which was in a curtained off section off of the "kitchen". It was something that she'd insisted on, sacrificing a two bedroom tent for it in fact. First there was not only the sunken tub, but there was also a shower. Two quick spells on the inside trailed the water facilities to connect to the lake rather than the camping spells' normal draw which would have alerted someone to the tent's location. Exiting the tent she cast a Mobilicorpus, to move Snape inside.
It was some time before Hermione could settle into anything that resembled calm. For all that she could tell, Snape was sleeping. She didn't know when she could anticipate him waking either. She'd unpacked her notes and books, save for two, into the shelves. There was a chest of drawers filled with clean clothes, including some finds that she didn't want to detail just how she'd managed them. She'd also unpacked all of the potions bottles to the top shelf, making sure they were away from the fire, and quick to hand, just in case. The anti-venom was now perilously low, but she hoped that it had been enough.
Crossing the room and up the steps, she checked on him again. It was just such a shock, seeing him there. Alive. She had performed basic cleaning spells, cleaning his skin from the day's filth and other things. Even the more delicate ones she wouldn't dare use on the healing wounds though, she'd cleaned those with a light sponge, towel, and bowl of sanitized water. His shirt she'd thrown away, along with the frockcoat. Frankly, both had been damaged beyond repair. Certain spells might have been able to salvage them, but she didn't want to even try. Fabric mending had not exactly been her concentration and she would rather not admit the embarrassingly long amount of time that she would have to take with it.
It was surreal she decided. Studying him, he seemed unreal to her now, lying almost helpless on the bed. She had never really had a problem with dealing with Severus Snape, Potions Master, despite the hard times that he had given them in school. Now it seemed different. Maybe it was the years that she hadn't seen him. But he was the same as the day he d… the day he almost died, she corrected herself. Because here he was, alive. His skin was still deathly pale, but somehow managed to retain an unhealthy, almost yellowing color. His nose was still large and hooked, that hadn't changed since their first year, and his hair still held an oily quality that apparently hadn't responded to the basic cleansing spell.
There were other things though, she thought, as she considered him. His eyes almost looked sunken, and what little color was in his skin seemed to be under his eyes that people normally received from either too little sleep or too little water. Hermione didn't want to think about the other parts of his anatomy that she could reflect on now. She'd treated the thigh wound, but only through the cut in his trousers. She wasn't that medically trained or even slighted inclined to be more forward in that direction. There was something that was worrying her though. Biting her lip absently, she approached the bed.
For modesty's sake, and the small chill that was now everywhere even in May at night, she'd drawn a sheet over most of Snape's body. To have tried to put him in any clothing would be pointless if there was another problem and the sheets would be easier to clean. Hermione had left his left arm free of it though. It was the wound that she most wanted to watch. Also, she hated to admit it, but it also was her indicator of what was happening in the final battle. She had been sure that it had been an hour already. Turning to the clock that she'd set on the side table by the bed, she realized it didn't help. She didn't actually know when Voldemort had fallen.
The Dark Mark still stood out, black against his skin. Watching, Hermione saw his arm suddenly twitch. Quickly drawing her wand, in case he actually was waking, she realized that it was only the sign that she had been searching for. His arm twitched twice again, until, as she watched, the mark began to fade. Unable to keep the grin from her face, she clapped a hand over her mouth, practically dancing with joy. She'd done it. Voldemort had fallen. She was alive. Snape was alive. Suddenly her knees went weak and she sat down hard on the stool she'd brought next to his bed as the full realization of what she'd done hit her. Just seeing him there, alive, breathing, and there was enough.
Twisting her wand over him carefully in the complicated spell pattern, she tested out the magically induced sleep charm. It didn't seem to cause any harmful effects to his healing, so she left it there. It could only help him. Smiling ruefully, Hermione realized it was as much for her health as for his. She didn't want to wake up with a confused or angry former Death Eater, however injured, free around the tent. Especially not one as brilliant or talented as Snape.
Hermione had washed her arms before she'd charmed or cleaned anything in the tent, but she still had patches of blood sticking to her in places. Also, she was hungry. And now exhausted. The adrenaline was officially through. She barely managed to finish the spell that would alert her if his condition changed before letting her head fall into her hands, her elbows awkwardly propped on her knees. She needed a proper shower, a meal, and a change of clothes. Dragging herself off the stool seemed to be the hardest thing that she had done that day. By the time she had showered and changed, she decided that food could wait. She didn't even bother transfiguring one of the sofa chairs. She might have considered it, but as soon as she sat in the chair she was asleep before her head fell back against the cushions of the chair.
A/N: And next... Snape wakes...