If it weren't for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, Hermione couldn't have known if Professor Snape was still breathing. Ron snored, Harry whistled a little and occasionally whuffled, but the professor made no noise at all. He made no restless movements either. Hermione, on her part, couldn't help but fidget. Blast these wizards, she was not comfortable in a darkened room nearly filled with people on the brink of death. Had St. Mungo's never heard of private patient rooms? She had drawn the curtain to block out the stares of some of the more alert patients, but the cloth obscuring her from view also cut off her view of the door. That made her edgy.

She heard the door open, the rustle of cloth, a number of footfalls. People were coming, but Hermione couldn't see who. Healers be damned, she palmed her wand.

Then she heard Ron, asking a little too loudly, "They have him in a public ward? I'm surprised no one's tried to arrest him yet!"

"What makes you think they haven't?" Smethwyck replied testily. "As I told the Aurors, he was too unstable to be moved yesterday."

"And what will the official reply be if someone does come knocking once more?" Harry asked the Healer quietly, and they rounded the curtain.

Ron moved swiftly to her side, enveloping her in a hug and planting a quick kiss on her lips. Harry hung back, but Hermione opened her arms to him too.

Smethwyck replied pompously, "That his condition is too fragile for him to be moved under any circumstances. Officially." Then he sniffed. "I understand the need to understand the truth, but I will not tolerate a witch hunt to satisfy some personal vendetta."

Hermione breathed a huge internal sigh of relief and beamed (the expression felt odd, unfamiliar) "Thank you, Healer Smethwyck. I'm sure you understand our lack of faith in the Ministry's impartiality at the moment. This means the world to us." Ron and Harry quickly agreed.

"Yes, yes, we're all in agreement then. Now to business. Excuse me, sirs." Smethwyck lit the tip of his wand once more, and approached Hermione's bedside. Harry and Ron backed off, trying to watch unobtrusively. The Healer swung the light in and out of her eyes several times, then had her look over one ear and the other as he looked into her irises with a belighted magnifier. Next, he asked her to perform various hand exercises-touching each finger to her thumb, rotating her writsts, making fists, extending her fingers, touching her nose, ears, and toes with her eyes closed. Then he asked her to pick up her wand, conjure water into a cup, summon a tissue from the box on her nightstand, and transfigure it into a cotton ball.

"Thank you Miss Granger, that will be all for now." Smethwyck slid his wand back up his sleeve and made to go.

"Er, can I ask why you were checking my eyes?"

He hesitated.

"Sir, I do understand some of the properties of that venom. When I approached Professor Snape about procuring an antivenin last year, he-"

"You did what!"

"WHAT?" Both boys yelped over each other.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "How do you think you survived that attack on Christmas Eve, Harry? You saw the state Mr. Weasley was in after he was bitten, and how long it took for him to heal."

Harry's mouth worked a few times, then he sheepishly said, "Oh."

Smethwyck observed the exchange coolly, then nodded to Hermione. "I'm impressed by your foresight, Miss Granger. And yet somehow, I'm unsurprised that your preparedness saved more than Professor Snape's life." Then he sighed. "As you are no doubt aware, Voldemort's snake's venom was a powerful neurotoxin. Your dermal exposure resulted in some damage to your optic nerves in addition to those in your wand arm."

She blinked. "Is it permanent?"

"It's too soon to tell, or even if any damage would be resistant to regenerative therapy." He patted her left hand gently. "It may only mean you'll need to be fitted for glasses. It's unproductive to conjecture at this point, so please try not to worry about it." Then he nodded and left, leaving the curtain swinging a little when his lime green robes brushed it.

For a moment, the only sounds were the shuffles and moans of the other injured. Hermione shivered and scooted over in bed, saying, "Come here, both of you." She opened her arms and Ron swooped in. Harry held back, but Hermione fixed him with a look he didn't argue with. Surrounded by their warmth and the sound of their breathing, she finally relaxed. The jangling twanging in her arm was starting to feel different, and she began to hope that her hand was coming back to life. Ron twitched heavily, once, twice, then his breath hitched, and suddenly he was sobbing, shaking as he tried to suppress the sound. Hermione tightened her grip around his shoulders and tucked his head firmly below her cheek. Harry's arm tightened around her waist and he leant his head against Ron's shoulder. Tears streamed silently down his cheeks. Hermione blinked sore eyes, but no tears came. She still hadn't cried, and because of that, she felt horrible.

Harry said thickly, "Tomorrow is the last official day of mourning. Then they start the funerals." Ron started shaking harder and began hiccoughing.

Hermione mouthed, "Muffliato?" at Harry, who blinked confused for a moment before it dawned on him that she was still ordered to not use magic. He cast the spell quickly, but then his face pinched and he dropped his forehead back to Ron's shoulder. Hermione began rubbing her hand up and down Ron's back, soothing, gently saying, "Don't try to stop, don't try to hold back. Let it out. Feel. Don't hold back."

Eventually, Ron quieted. He sat up, disengaged his arm from Harry, and tried wiping his face. Then he rubbed his temple, and tightened his arm around Hermione's waist.

"I should be discharged in the morning, so I'll be back with you tomorrow." Hermione said firmly. Ron heaved a shuddering sigh and nodded.

Tears still streamed down Harry's face, so Hermione plucked a tissue from her nightstand and gently reached under his glasses to dry his eyes. He took the tissue from her hand, but grabbed her wrist as she pulled away. Moving his grip to her fingers, he glanced over to Snape and said, "Hermione, thank you for...for saving him." She opened her mouth to interrupt, but he kept speaking. "When I...came out of his Pensieve memories and thought he was-could be-dead, I just...it just," he paused, searching for words, "it hurts to realize how wrong I was...and to look back and see how bad I acted, how I treated him...how everyone treated him. If I hadn't had the chance to make it up to him, I don't know how I could've lived with myself."

Ron cringed. "You and me both, mate."

"Harry, have you shown those Pensieve memories to anyone else?" she asked. When Harry had told them about Snape's loyalty over sandwiches, Ron had been skeptical and demanded to see them for himself. Hermione had refused. Ron had come up pale and shaking.

He hunched over. "I showed Kingsley, and I mean to show Professor McGonagall when she gets out of here, but as of yet...they're so private."

Hermione privately agreed, but she asked, "Have you been to see Professor McGonagall? They won't let me out of this ward."

"Ya, we stopped in to see her just before we came to..see...you." Ron stuttered to a guilty stop. Hermione just waved her hand to continue and he babbled to explain, "Well, we knew we were going to see you longer so we-"

"Ron, stop, it's all right. I'm hardly offended that you didn't immediately rush to my side."

"But-"

"No buts. How is she?"

Harry and Ron shared a glance, and Harry answered, "She's...getting there. She's still weak, but she said she was going to start physical therapy within the next few days. It'll depend on when the Healers say her heart is strong enough. I...I really didn't want to tell her everything yet, but she was...desperate for the whole story. Kingsley told her yesterday that Snape was on our side, but a Healer kicked him out before he could say any more."

Hermione sputtered, "And the Healer thought that she would be less distressed on her own? Of all the idiocy."

Harry swallowed uncomfortably. "She took it...hard. Apparently they had been sort-of-friends, but she spent last year trying to make his life hell-even more of a hell."

Hermione looked over to the still form of Severus Snape and absently said, "Being wrong hurts so much, but in this case, I'm glad."

Ron and Harry both tried to tell her she was wrong, their words garbled together, and Hermione just shook her head. "Trying to get you both to respect a teacher doesn't count. I was wrong about him first year, I was wrong about him last year. I feel all the worse for having trusted him in between and, and breaking faith in him again." Her eyes burned and her breath hitched, but she still couldn't cry.

"At least you did something," Ron said awkwardly.

"I just hope it was enough," she whispered.

"Madam Undersecretary, I cannot allow you in there!" Healer Smethwyck's agitated voice came from the hallway.

"Oh no!" All three voices groaned. Harry recanted the Muffliato, then reluctantly sheathed his wand. He stood facing the curtain.

A tinkling giggle sent shivers down Hermione's spine. "I'm sorry, Healer Smethwyck," she said with a gleeful simper, "But I'm here on Ministry business."

"And just what do you think you're doing here?" Hermione snarled as Umbridge rounded her privacy curtain. The stumpy witch rocked back on her heels for a moment, nearly bumping into the two beefy lackeys behind her. Healer Smethwyck followed, livid. Umbridge regained her composure and coldly replied, "As I said, I am here on Ministry business." She moved to approach Snape's bed, but Harry blocked her approach.

"Funny, when I spoke with Kingsley this afternoon, it was his directive that Professor Snape remain in Healer Smethwyck's care. I've since been informed that someone has already tried to arrest the professor. What is your Ministry business, Dolores? And why does it involve two members of the MLE?" Harry inquired just as coldly.

Umbridge flourished a piece of parchment dripping with seals, ribbons, and gold ink. "I have a warrant for the arrest of one Severus Snape, for crimes committed as a Death Eater."

Harry snatched the warrant from her pudgey fingers and handed it to Hermione.

She read it carefully, and coolly stated, "It says here that you issued this warrant, Madam Undersecretary. Now, are you quite certain you want to open an investigation into the abuse of Hogwarts students by a person in a position authority? Because I would do everything in my power to ensure that any and all allegations would be thoroughly looked into, as is only proper. You never know who else might be implicated." Hermione insisted with wide eyed sincerity.

A small muscle beneath Umbridge's right eye twitched.

"We can't have a Hogwarts Headmaster using corporal punishment or casting Unforgiveables on students." Harry added earnestly.

"No, indeed not. Such a thing would be unthinkable. Imagine the public outcry!"

Umbridge had turned a shade of pink rather reminiscent of Vernon Dursely, before she forced on a facsimile of a smile, adding, "I'm so glad we understand each other." Then she scuttled from the room, bumping Healer Smethwyck's elbow in her haste, sweeping the two bulky MLE officers along in her wake.

Hermione glowered at the swinging curtain, then sighed and turned to Harry. "I know you feel it should remain a private affair, but if we are going to avoid a trial-by-mob, you're going to have to go on a public opinion offensive. I have a feeling she's going to try to make a show out of punishing him, so the only way to avoid that is to ensure the public supports him."

Harry scrubbed both hands over his face. "Fine. You just need to make sure he doesn't kill me when all's said and done. I'd hate to work this hard to keep him out of Azkaban only to see him earn a life sentence for murder."

Hermione snorted, but rubbed her forehead worriedly. "Healer Smethwyck, is it possible to have Professor Snape moved to a private room?"

"A private room?" the Healer sounded confused. "The only private rooms are the high level security rooms, they're for criminals!"

"Damn. The last thing we want is for people to think St. Mungo's is treating him like a prisoner. He needs higher security though."

"I'll see to it myself." Smethwyck replied.