Author's Note: Thanks for the support, guys! This chapter is a bit short…Hopefully I'll get the next out within the week! Enjoy.

"You're disgusting," his best friend said, repulsion growing across her face.

"I had no where to turn. It seemed right—I want to fight for a better wizarding--"

"Sev! Do you realize what you've done? I can't—I can't be your fri--"

"Yes, you can. You'd be safe anyway. I wouldn't let anything happen--"

Sirius Black strolled up behind the young Severus, strutting like Potter. "Well, Snivellus, my cousin tells me you're a--"

"A what exactly? A greasy nosed snake? A--" Severus drew his wand.

"Death Eater." Sirius spat, smirking and combing his locks out of his face.

Severus stiffened visibly.

"So it is true?" Sirius' mouth drew into a wide smile. He rubbed his hands together, "Oh, this is just great--"

There was a crack; Severus was floating upside down. Under him was James Potter, wand drawn, laughing.

"And exactly what is going on here?" Potter's bass voice sung.

"James. Put him down!" Lily was growing more and more cross.

"Lily, why are you still hanging out with this scum? I hear he's a--"

"Yes. I am!" Severus boomed through gritted teeth, "Because wizards should be taught discipline. You, Potter, are worse than Mudbloods!"

"Excuse me?" Lily said, going red in the face.

"Oh—Lily—I—"

With a whip of red hair, she was gone.

"Smooth move Snivy." James said. Walking away, he left Severus upside down in the air. Blood was rushing to his head; he was going to pass out soon.

He was then let, rather gently, to the ground. Remus Lupin stood behind him, a concerned look upon his face. Lupin tilted his head. Without a word, Severus got up, brushed himself off, and strode away. He had no more friends.

SS

Every day was the same routine. It had been weeks since the castle had been torn apart; weeks, only weeks, since such great destruction had occurred. The castle, of course, could be mended rather easily. The people who perished? No. It will never be quite the same. But the battle was over, the war was won. At a cost, of course, but it was done: Voldemort was gone.

Snape sat in a worn, dark maroon arm chair. He leaned his head back; the thick bandage on his neck itched. He impatiently flipped a page in his dusty book. Across from him was a bed: too small for two people, but large enough for one to spread out in. The door next to his chair stood open; across the hall were his private stores and lab. One more quarter of an hour and he would return to his lab to retrieve three different potions. One for fever, one for pain, and one of his own creation: to aid that of a horrible venom.

His eyes moved to the figure in the bed. There was no movement, except for the occasional twitch and the sound of shallow, ragged breathing. He put his book on the arm of his chair; he rose. Might as well check on the brewing.

When he returned, the breathing of the figure in the bed had calmed. He found himself staring into dark brown eyes streaked with amber. He blinked; he drew a breath. Damn. Explanations. She'll want to know explanations…

Snape opened his mouth and drew another quiet breath. "The hospital wing is filled entirely…Poppy is swamped…I offered my guest quarters. And it is easier access to potions for you--"

The girl raised a hand to her heavily bandaged shoulder. The bandage ran under the baggy sweater she was outfitted in and around her collarbone. She winced.

"What happened?"

"That's not important--"

She blinked. "What of Harry and Ron?"

He shook his head, "I don't know--"

She pushed herself up with her good arm. "I must get up, then. I must see if they're okay--"

"No. Miss Granger, you will not. You are not well at all. You have been unconscious for three weeks--"

"Then I should get up and move--"

"Do not--" His voice was quiet, but it filled the room with his command. He stood over her.

She swallowed.

"I must retrieve your potions. I will be back soon." He turned on his heel. Even without his billowing robes, he seemed towering in his black button-down shirt with rolled up sleeves, and black trousers.

"Sir?" Snape stopped in the door frame. "Did you—did you really kill Dumbledore?"

Snape blinked; his eyes seemed to want to escape his face.

"I will be back with your potions, Miss Granger, and some tea. You will be in pain soon; get some sleep. You will need it." And with that, he left.

HG

Hermione woke, ringlets glued to her sweaty face. She was hot and cold simultaneously. Her entire body ached and stung; she felt incredibly nauseous. The tea sitting on her bedside table was cold. She looked over her covers. The chair was empty; Snape was gone.