A/N: Woo, other side of the cliffhanger...breathe, my dear readers, breathe. Unfortunately, we don't quite have our feet on the ground yet. I know, I'm evil, I'm sorry. *Grins*
Severus felt her cold hand in his own go suddenly limp as she released her breath in finality. He had no tears, not here. He was far too stunned, for one thing, to even consider breaking down. Not that he would in the first place, of course. For another thing, he was furious, perhaps part of the reaction of what had just happened, not at Hermione or anyone else, but at himself. He silently cursed himself for not protecting her, not even thinking about the Death Eaters that were still alive, around them even as everyone celebrated.
His next coherent thoughts were of the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey, anything that would help her. But then he stopped, remembering a small phial that was in the inner pocket of his robes. It was just an experiment, something he had been toying with for the past year or so. It was supposed to be a serum to cure anything, a universal potion. It wasn't finished, by any means, but it was all there was.
Without further thought, ignoring the small group of her friends rushing over to them, he wrenched the tiny glass bottle from his pocket and carefully poured it into her mouth.
"What happened? What are you doing?!" It was Potter and the Weasley girl who had reached them first; Minerva didn't seem to be too far behind, although he wasn't quite paying attention.
He ignored Potter's frantic questioning, refraining from lashing out as the two of them dropped to the ground next to Hermione's motionless form. There was dead silence for a few golden moments until Potter began bombarding him again.
"Professor! What did you give her...is she—" He stopped. Only then did Severus look up at the boy who looked as terrified as he felt. Against normal circumstances, he was about to speak to explain, or attempt to, when the lifeless body heaved a deep breath.
All of their heads snapped to look at Hermione immediately, Severus feeling the warmest sensation of relief rush through him, engulfing all of him. She was breathing, she was going to be all right; it had worked.
Wildly, Hermione's eyes fluttered open. She looked terrified and confused all at the same time. "Hermione," Ginny breathed, being the closest on her other side. Tears in her eyes, Ginny picked up her friend's hand, smiling. "Thank Merlin. That was so close."
But something was wrong. Hermione's stare was nearly a blank one. She nodded slowly, eyes narrowing questioningly, first looking up at Ginny, then to Harry and finally, she turned her head an inch, looking at Severus, an even more confused look coming onto her face.
"Are you alright?" He asked, uncharacteristically quiet, especially around Potter of all people, but it didn't matter so much to him right then. Hermione began to nod her head, looking confused as ever, but stopped and looked back to Ginny and Harry.
They looked at her curiously, exchanging glances before Harry spoke. "Hermione?" Her eyes flickered to look at him. "Do you—do you know what just happened?" He asked, sounding very cautious as if he was afraid of where this was going.
To all of their horrors, Hermione shook her head quickly, beginning to look even more frightened now. Severus was silent, feeling as though a lead weight had just hit him. The potion had saved her life, looking to have knocked her memory out in the process; she may not remember anything...she would not remember she loved him.
While this new information was beginning to process for all of them, Hermione seemed to have realize that Severus was still holding on to her hand and turned her head slightly, glancing at it with her eyes looking confused a quite frightened all at the same time.
Noticing the movement and the fear in her eyes, Severus too looked down and upon realizing he had hold of her hand, released it abruptly.
Her voice still hoarse and betraying a slight tremble, Hermione began to speak for the first time since waking, but it was barely audible.
"What happened?" She turned her head, once again, to look at Severus. "Who, what—"
"Hermione," said Ginny quietly, carefully. "You don't remember who he is?"
Hermione returned the same look Ginny was giving her, eyes moving back and forth from her to Severus. She shook her head quickly, so confused. "Of course I know him," she said in that same small voice, her tone suggesting Ginny crazy for questioning her. "He's Professor Snape...why wouldn't I know him?"
Severus flinched at the sound of how she'd addressed him, trying to hide it quickly, but not quickly enough. Ginny saw and gave him a confused, yet seemingly sympathetic look, trying to offer some explanation but coming up empty-handed. Hermione was still looking to all of the faces surrounding her, wondering what was happening, what had happened to her.
Without another word, Severus seemed to accept what had happened and got up, limping away, needing to seek attention for his injuries...but it could certainly wait. He heard Minerva call after him, but he simply needed to be away from there.
How he cursed himself for not having had mind enough to take out the remaining Death Eaters first, before they could do any damage instead of watching the idiotic celebration around Potter and his victory.
He cursed himself for allowing Hermione to slip away; he should have been able to protect her better, and he had failed. In trying to restore her life he had nearly ruined it. They wouldn't be sure what the extent of her memory loss was until someone was able to ask her some questions, but he knew for certain it went back farther than her hiding in the Headmaster's quarters.
It took him longer than usual to get up to the sanctity of his quarters because of the state the front portion of the castle was in. Debris was everywhere, littering the Great Hall. Enormous chunks of ceiling and stone covered the floor and what he was certain were bodies underneath all of the rubble.
People were standing around everywhere; it seemed like when Potter had forced that sniveling ingrate Wormtail to lift the wards keeping the Order out, even more witches and wizards were able to get in, fighting for the Light also. Thankfully though, he ran into no one on the way to the gargoyle. He could only imagine what those who hadn't seen him kill Nagini, assisting in the Dark Lord's demise, would do were they to see him.
No, it was best to be away from everyone...no matter what the reason. There would soon be a process to go through that would clear his name, he supposed, but that didn't really seem to matter to him, at least not as much as it should have.
He was finally free, this he knew. He no longer served anyone; the war was, all things considered, over. None of this jubilated him, however. He felt empty, emptier than he had ever felt while working as a Double Agent. A part of him felt as though it had been ripped from his body.
He knew it was his heart.
With the only remaining energy he had left, Severus dropped into one of his armchairs near the fire and summoned his bottle of Fire whiskey, not even bothering with a glass. Every single part of him hurt, body, mind, and heart alike and the alcohol wouldn't really make it any better, but it would certainly numb the pain.
Minerva found him an hour later, slumped back in the chair, fast asleep, the bottle of whiskey hanging loosely from his fingertips.
The old witch sighed deeply, watching him momentarily with an expression of the utmost sorrow and, even though she knew he'd despise it, pity. She simply could not believe the cruelty of the fates at moments like this. Here was a man who shut everyone out, never letting a soul get too close, never letting his guard down.
Until now, she thought sadly. And now the source of his happiness barely remembered what was happening around her, let alone that they loved each other.
Everything had just changed, once again.
**
Hermione had felt herself slip out of consciousness once again as she was being carried to the Hospital Wing. When she finally woke for a second time, she seemed to be in a bed and it was dark.
While her eyes began to adjust to the blackness surrounding her, she allowed the functioning part of her mind to wander, although it wasn't much.
What in the world had happened out there, she wondered. She couldn't remember a single thing, even though she knew she should. Where her mind was usually the equivalent of a busy motorway, it now seemed to be reduced to a quiet country dirt road in the middle of nowhere.
She remembered who she was, and that of those around her but what of what had just happened? And why had she been unconscious with everyone crowded around her with such worry?
Worry. People. Professor Snape.
He was so worried, she remembered. How is that even possible? Shaking her head a bit, she knew it was nearly no use to make sense of anything right now and so with a sigh of resignation, she allowed her eyes to close again, slipping back into sleep.
**
He was brooding in the worst possible way; Severus did not want to be present for this.
"Severus," Minerva said sternly but almost pleadingly, "Hermione is finally coherent enough to tell us what she remembers. Don't you want to see if you can do anything to jog her memory?"
"No."
She gave him an exasperated look, yet she understood in all truth. "You won't at least try, Severus? For Hermione?"
Severus finally spun to face her. "And what do you propose I do Minerva? Tell her everything and have her find me a raging lunatic?"
"Well certainly not, I do not expect you to sweep her into your arms and—"
"Enough, Minerva." Severus shook his head. "I'll be there," he said finally, quietly, turning his back on the old witch once again.
Despite Minerva's protests that he shouldn't, Severus took up the back corner of the infirmary...as far away as possible from everyone else. While they were waiting for the acting Headmistress to arrive, he carefully looked around the room with his eyes.
Potter looked well enough, at least for a boy who'd slain the Dark Lord only two days previous. The circles under his young eyes were nearly as bad as Severus' himself, but he hid his exhaustion well.
Next to him was the Weasley girl, looking far worse off than Potter but trying to hide it as well. Bloody Gryffindors, he thought with a mental shake of the head. But he could not blame her or anyone else for that matter for their behavior. They were all equally entitled to fall apart and Ginny Weasley had lost not one brother, but two.
Severus had watched both of them, in fact, fall while fighting with Potter. Bill, an expert dueler in his own right, had been taken off guard by Dolhov within a matter of seconds; no one had seen it coming. Much like Hermione, he thought bitterly.
And Ron Weasley was the reason Severus had had the chance at Nagini at all. Thinking back on the event it all seemed planned; Weasley on the dragon, his own wand commanding the death of the great snake, and finally Potter, taking a strike at the Dark Lord.
He felt remorse for their family; their large, redheaded family and Bill's newly widowed wife Fleur who would never see them again, just like so many others. The worst part was Hermione wouldn't even remember why they were gone.
Discretely, he let his eyes rest on Hermione. She was talking quietly to Potter but not looking at anyone. She simply studied her small hands, which were placed on her lap.
It couldn't help but to feel that burning sensation in his stomach, the one that always appeared whenever he laid eyes on her. Upset with himself, he realized his heart had sped up merely thinking of her and what would never be again.
Thankfully, at the moment he was about to begin cursing his treacherous heart, Minerva walked into the infirmary, deeming the meeting of sorts to begin.
"How are you feeling, Miss Granger?" She asked gently, her eyes flickering to Severus in the corner briefly before taking up the chair on the opposite side of the bed.
Hermione audibly cleared her throat a little before speaking. "I'm feeling better professor," she answered and then got a curious look in her eyes, the one they all knew and associated with her asking questions. Severus would have rolled his eyes had the situation not been so serious.
"What happened to me?"
It was a simple enough question, yet not one person in the room could seem to answer her right away. They all looked to one another and then, to his utmost dismay, they all looked in Severus' direction.
Idiots, he thought. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her, and knowing that he was connected to the reason she could not remember a bloody thing would not help matters at all.
When he only scowled at them all in return, they turned back to Hermione, Madam Pomfrey finally speaking. "What do you remember, dear?"
Hermione was silent for a moment or two, again studying the place where her hands rested on her lap. "I—" She started, struggling even with this. "I remember...the forest..." She said slowly, carefully as if this was potentially not correct at all. "I remember Death Eaters attacking," she paused again and then finally just shook her head. "That's all really."
She looked so defeated. Severus felt a wave of deep remorse run through him. Or was that actually deep love he was feeling?
The rest of the group surrounding her exchanged glances of worry and uneasiness at this news. It was worse than they thought then. Again, eyes jumped in Severus' direction but only Minerva and Poppy's. They were the only two that even knew with the exception of Draco; although Severus was sure Potter suspected it, at least.
Quietly and carefully, all of them, with the exception of Severus, began to explain about the battle and that the Death Eater ambush in the forest had been months ago. Hermione couldn't quite believe her ears. Months? Surely it was only yesterday; it certainly seemed to be that way.
Involuntarily, she felt several tears fall down from her eyes, wiping them away quickly as she listened. At this, Ginny placed a gentle hand on her own, trying to give her at least some comfort. Despite her uneasy feeling, Hermione listened to the rest of what they had to tell her; although, she was getting the distinct feeling they were leaving something out.
Nonetheless, an hour or so later, the professors and mediwitch retreated, leaving only Harry and Ginny with her, for which she was grateful.
"I feel so helpless," she admitted quietly. "I don't know what to do, I can't remember anything."
"Well give it time, Hermione," Ginny soothed. "Madam Pomfrey said that you may very well regain the part of your short term memory that's missing, it just won't be right away."
Hermione nodded, not completely placated, but it would have to do for now. Her two friends announced their departure a little while later, promising to be back after supper. She said goodbye, a little glad for the peace and quiet, but her mind was still reeling. She knew there was much to try and piece together. That in mind, she knew there was little hope of resting and resigned herself to many sleepless nights to come.
**
"What are we going to do, Harry?" Ginny asked quietly as they made their way to the Head's office, as requested earlier by McGonagall.
Harry shook his head, mostly to himself while gripping tighter to Ginny's hand. It seemed neither of them wanted anything more than to be completely conjoined after all that had happened.
"I don't know, I really don't." They stopped walking and he looked at her with sad, tired eyes that reflected his pain, just as hers did.
Ginny placed a gentle hand on his cheek, brushing it in a comforting way before picking up the pace again. "Something just doesn't seem right, Harry. I don't know, it's as if we're missing something. Why would Professor Snape be so concerned? I wasn't even aware he was on our side until the battle."
Harry's body tightened slightly, his feelings about the matter floating to the surface of his mind. Stopping Ginny again, he took a deep breath. She looked at him questioningly as he began to speak.
"I can't know for sure, I mean I wasn't here as long as Hermione had been but," he paused, searching the stone flooring for his words. "I don't know, Ginny, I think they were..." He shook his head more, unable and unwilling to speak the words.
"They were what...Harry?"
He sucked in a deep breath. "I think something was happening between them, something more than friendship," he finally said, not taking his eyes off of the floor beneath his feet.
Ginny was silent for a moment but he could feel her nodding in contemplation. "I thought as much," she finally said, her expression quite calm, causing Harry's head to shoot up to look at her.
"Well," she said at his inquiring expression, "I saw his face, Harry. After the battle, I mean. When Hermione was lying there...and he had her hand, and his face...Harry, it was so pained; it was like something had died in his eyes."
Even if he wanted to contemplate the possibility of truth in Ginny's statement, Harry had to first get over how incredibly insightful she was. "You really think so," he muttered, almost reluctantly.
Ginny nodded her head. "It would seem that way. I'm not sure how I feel about that either," she added at Harry's expression. "But if it is true, than we need to figure out whether or not Hermione needs to know."
"Well she's better off not knowing isn't she? Bloody hell," he ran a hand through his unruly hair, "she's gone through more than enough. The last thing she needs is to find out that she's head over heels for the dungeon bat," Harry said forcefully and rushed. Clearly, this was too much for him.
Ginny half-heartedly smiled. "I never said head over heels."
**
Professor McGonagall, who had taken over duties of Head of the school (mostly for Severus' safety), was seated at the large desk when Ginny, Harry, Neville, and Draco arrived.
The four of them took up chairs surrounding the front of the desk, Neville and Ginny separating Harry and Draco who shot glares at one another when they had the chance.
"Professor?" Harry spoke first and waited for McGonagall to look up at him before he began to speak again. "We were wondering, that is...well, I hoped you could tell us...what you knew about...well, Hermione's, erm, relationship with Snape..."
The last sentence hung in awkward silence as McGonagall surveyed Harry carefully. "Why is it you ask, Mr. Potter," she said, quite reservedly.
Harry looked sideways at Ginny before opening his mouth to speak. Ginny, however, beat him to it. "It's just that, well like I said to Harry...I saw Professor Snape's face before and after he gave her that potion. It was in his eyes—it wasn't just concern for the life of his student, it was as if he..." She too trailed off, unsure of how to put into words what she wished to say.
"Loved her?"
Everyone's head turned in Draco's direction. Draco himself had his head bowed, eyes on his lap, speaking in an uncharacteristically subdued voice.
"But that's not possible!" Harry suddenly turned back to McGonagall whose lips were in a thin line, still watching Draco who was now nodding slowly, as if to himself.
Surprised, Harry looked quickly to Draco and back to McGonagall, pausing briefly to look at Ginny who was calmer than he, yet just as equally surprised. "It—professor, it's not, is it?"
Without looking away from Draco, she answered him. "Yes, Mr. Potter, although it is none of our businesses, I do believe that Mr. Malfoy would have the correct assumption regarding Severus' feelings toward Miss Granger." She paused. "And that is was...quite returned."
The old witch looked at Harry with these words, one eyebrow raised as if expecting him to fly off the handle. He probably would have, had he not been so utterly shocked.
It didn't, however, take him long to regain normal thought process. "And you knew about this, Malfoy?" He glared around Ginny and Neville at his childhood enemy. Draco started to straighten himself in his seat to answer, but someone else spoke up.
"I knew too," came Neville's quiet voice. Harry's head snapped from Draco to Neville in an instant.
"Neville?" Harry looked almost scandalized towards his friend. Ginny remained silent, listening, while carefully placing a hand on Harry's knee to remind him of his surroundings.
"Let's not forget the more pressing matter at hand, Mr. Potter, shall we?" McGonagall looked over the top of her spectacles sternly at Harry. "Poppy informs me that Hermione may or may not regain her memories due to a reaction caused by the curse Bellatrix used and the potion she drank."
She looked at all of them in turn with the same stare that she had just given Harry. "What I believe needs to be agreed upon, is whether or not the events over the course of the last few months are revealed to Hermione or not."
"Meaning what has happened since she's been here?" Ginny asked, looking to Harry who was fixing the edge of the desk with a contemplative stare, then back to McGonagall.
Everyone was silent, only their pensive breathing making noise within the room.
Finally, with a deep breath, Harry said, "I don't think we should." He sounded concrete and resolute in his words, yet his eyes betrayed him.
He was torn, not wishing to see his best friend suffer by not remembering anything, yet at the very same time Harry didn't hope for her to go insane with information overload either.
"I only think we shouldn't be forcing them to resurface, that's all," Harry added quickly. He knew how his statement sounded otherwise.
As McGonagall asked if this was of mutual consent, Harry resolutely nodded his head while Ginny nodded once, and so did Neville...reluctantly. Draco simply barely raised his shoulders in a shrug, still having not looked up.
"Very well then," McGonagall concluded. "We will allow Hermione's memories to come back of their own accord." Once again, she surveyed them all, pausing a while before dismissing them.
"Neville," said Harry as they descended the stairs from the Head's office, "is it really true, what you said about Hermione up there?" Neville didn't answer right away.
"Of course he was serious—"
"I don't recall asking your opinion, Malfoy." Harry rounded on Draco as he spoke.
"Well you should," Neville shot his head up bravely at Harry, his expression strong. "He was there too...and he helped save Hermione's life," he said vehemently.
Harry nearly gaped at first Neville, his eyes shooting to Draco in spurts. Finally, he found his voice. "So you're saying she loves him then? Hermione...loves...Snape?"
Draco sighed with mock exasperation. "Where in the last 15 minutes did you not understand that bit of information, Potter?" He sneered in Harry's direction.
Harry's wand hand twitched, but Ginny placed a hand on his arm to settle him. "Don't," she murmured quietly. Calmly, she turned to Draco. "I don't know what you did to help her, or even the extent of what's happened to her since she's been here, but thank you, Draco," she said sincerely.
If Draco was surprised at her genuine thanks, he hid it well, going back to scowling within seconds. Harry muttered a "yeah, thanks," not quite meeting his eyes, shuffling his feet uncomfortably.
Silence stretched once again between the four of them before Neville spoke, his voice more subdued than before. "So we're not going to tell her...anything," he said, almost unwilling to believe it was the best solution.
Harry shrugged. "I don't really like it either, but I don't think she needs a whole six months worth of heavy information dumped on her at once. Maybe, if she doesn't remember after a long time, we'll tell her eventually. For now though, we should let her try and remember for herself."
**
Somewhere, far off, she could feel a hand holding gently to her own with the most reserved of carefulness. She was in that place where dreams, though able to be acknowledged as a near hallucination, were still real; it was a place, the gap between waking and sleep where she was held, captivated by a faceless figure representing the purest and most cherished love.
As if by some force unseen, Hermione's eyes opened suddenly, sitting up instantly and looking wildly through the piercing dark, having the distinct sensation someone had just been right next to her, but no one was in sight.
Shaking her head she glanced down at her own hand, the one that was lying palm up next to her on the hospital bed. It felt...warm, tingling, like someone had just touched it, held on to it.
How strange, she thought, examining her limb without moving it from where it sat. Slowly, she commanded the fingers to move, as if only to make sure it was truly her hand, that she was the one with the power to make it move.
Her skin tingled with a feeling that she could not decipher. It was unfamiliar to her, yet at the very same time so completely real, like she remembered it from someplace else she had been, seen, or felt before.
Coming out of her thoughts, Hermione shook her head. "It was only a dream," she whispered to herself, finally looking away from her hand and settling back down to fall asleep once more.