Her eyes—emerald green—had been the last thing he saw. One final plunge into those endless depths, one last surrender to the peace they offered. This time, he wouldn't have to surface again.
Perhaps he had failed. Could Potter truly stand against the might of the most powerful wand in existence? If not, then Lily's death had been for nothing. Every sacrifice, every shadowed act to keep her son alive… wasted.
It didn't matter now. It was over. She had walked with him to the very edge, and he had found his peace.
He felt the hard, unyielding floor beneath his back. Pain gnawed at his neck, dampness clung to his skin, and his hair tugged uncomfortably, sticking to something wet. He tried to move—but his limbs were heavy and unresponsive. Why was there pain at all? Hadn't Dumbledore once told him, from within his portrait, that death was like resting on soft clouds?
His eyelids twitched. Maybe, if he could open them, he'd find answers.
Two eyes gazed down at him—not green, but almond-shaped and a deep, steady brown.
"Professor Snape, can you hear me?"
That voice echoed through him, dragging him back from the brink.
Granger.
A brief glance upward confirmed it—he lay on the cold, bare stone of Hogwarts' dungeons. No clouds. No peace.
"Professor, please… say something."
For a moment, silence hung between them.
"Potter," he rasped at last.
Since the moment she had seen Snape's memories—his devotion to Lily Potter, his relentless mission to keep Harry alive—Hermione had known that his entire life had revolved around one goal: giving Harry the chance to defeat Voldemort. She wouldn't let him linger in uncertainty for a single second longer.
"Harry killed Voldemort. He's alive and well," she said softly, using as few words as possible.
Snape closed his eyes, as if that was all he needed to hear.
"Go…" he croaked.
"I'm going to get help. Are you stable enough for me to leave you for a few minutes?" she asked.
"No… help. Please," he whispered.
The words cut through her like a blade. She fought to hold back the tears swelling behind her eyes.
"I've given you the antidote to Nagini's venom. I believe you have a very good chance of making a full recovery. And I am not going to let you lie here and waste away, Professor," she said, her voice trembling despite herself.
Hermione took out her wand and worked on the wound at his neck, where blood still trickled in slow, dark beads.
"I'll be right back," she promised, before running from the room.
Granger, Snape thought faintly. Typical Granger.
He closed his eyes, and a heavy tide of exhaustion swept him under.
---
The news of Snape's survival spread through the castle like wildfire. For many, it was a surprising balm to the grief of losing fifty-four people in the battle.
Professor McGonagall decided to close Hogwarts for several weeks. The castle resembled a warzone, and the students needed time—both to heal and to rebuild.
Most of the injured had been sent home, though the hospital wing remained full. Its most reluctant patient was, unsurprisingly, Professor Snape. He refused to speak to Madam Pomfrey, and McGonagall had met the same brick wall. The bite wound still refused to close; in fact, Pomfrey discovered that it had grown worse overnight, the blood loss increasing again.
Hermione, along with Harry, Ron, Ginny, and a handful of others, had stayed behind to help restore Hogwarts. That day, they were meant to start clearing the wreckage in the library.
She had just reached the library doors when McGonagall intercepted her.
"Hermione, may I speak with you in my office for a moment?"
"Of course. Now?"
"Yes—it's urgent."
Hermione followed her head of house into the office.
"Professor Snape's condition is deteriorating," McGonagall said without preamble. "The wound has begun bleeding again, and Poppy cannot stop it. Nagini was a creature of dark magic—we don't know exactly what her venom contained. Neither Poppy, Harry, nor I have been able to get a single word from him. He treats us as though we don't exist. He doesn't want to recover, Hermione. He's given up."
"I can understand why," Hermione admitted quietly. "He achieved his goal, but lost the only thing that truly mattered to him. Harry's alive… but Lily will never come back."
She could imagine the weight he carried—perhaps better than most.
"Would you try speaking to him? You're the one who saved him," McGonagall urged.
"He didn't exactly have a choice, and I doubt he'll be thrilled to see me," Hermione said, lowering her gaze.
"Will you try?" McGonagall pressed.
Hermione nodded. Lost in thought, she left the office and headed toward the hospital wing.
.
END OF CHAPTER
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