"That was a rescue in the nick of time. His pulse had already dropped to thirty," Poppy whispered to Hermione as she reached Snape's bedside. He lay in the same position as the last time she had been there — on his left side, facing the window — only this time she remained behind his back. Poppy leaned over him and changed the blood-soaked bandage once more.
"Stay with him until his condition stabilizes. I'll be in the next room if anything happens," Poppy said, pressing a magical pulse monitor into Hermione's hand.
Hermione nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed. Snape lay as far over on the right side as he could, leaving her just enough space. She fixed her gaze on the small, compass-like device, which now displayed his heartbeat and general condition without touching him. It felt as if she were literally holding his life in her hands. Thirty-five… forty… forty-five. Then the needle stopped. It needed to climb higher if the serum was to keep him alive long enough for her to finish the healing balm. The bandage at the back of his neck was already beginning to turn red again, sending a sharp pang through her stomach.
Minutes passed without change. At least his condition remained stable — enough for her to breathe a little easier.
Without thinking, she placed her hand on his shoulder. She felt an overwhelming need to let his body know he wasn't alone. She would do everything in her power to bring him back — not just to survival, but to life. Without survival, though, life was impossible.
Suddenly, the needle began to move again. Fifty… fifty-five… sixty. The tension drained from her, replaced by a heavy, bone-deep fatigue. The strain of the past weeks — especially the last few days — made her head sink as if weighted with lead. She fought to keep her eyes on the pulse monitor, but staying upright became harder and harder.
Over an hour later, Poppy returned. She paused in the doorway, taking in the strangely peaceful sight: Hermione lying beside Snape, fast asleep. Snape was still on his side; Hermione had drifted onto her back. Carefully, Poppy pried the pulse monitor from Hermione's hands. The reading was steady at sixty.
"Hermione, wake up," she said gently. Hermione's eyes opened — and then she bolted upright. Realizing the position she'd been in, heat flooded her cheeks.
"Relax, Hermione. You're exhausted. You should get some proper rest," Poppy reassured her. Hermione glanced at the monitor one more time to confirm Snape's stability before leaving the hospital wing in a daze.
She would have liked to head straight to the dormitory, but her mind kept returning to the healing balm. What if something had gone wrong with it? Without wasting a moment, she made her way back to the dungeons. Relief washed over her when she found everything exactly as she'd left it. The viscous mixture had thickened even more. Satisfied for now, she gathered the materials and brought them to the common room, where Ron, Ginny, and Harry sat by the fire with tea and biscuits.
The chaos in the Great Hall had largely been cleared away, and the wounded tended to.
"What a day," Ginny sighed. "I'm completely done in."
Hermione told them everything about Snape.
"I still can't wrap my head around the fact that he never got over my mum's death," Harry said quietly. "He was always an ice block, and then his Patronus was a doe for decades. Unbelievable."
"He probably never learned how to express feelings," Hermione said. "Your mother awakened something in him — maybe the strongest feelings he'd ever had. But he didn't know how to handle them, and he hurt her without meaning to, even though she was patient with him." She hoped more than anything that life would grant him a second chance. She didn't tell them she had just spent half an hour lying beside him in bed — that moment was hers alone. Still, she couldn't explain why she felt so close to him now.
"Tomorrow's the memorial for Lupin, Tonks, Mad-Eye, and the others," Harry said, pulling Ginny a little closer.
Guilt prickled in Hermione's chest. She had been so consumed by the events of the last hours that she'd almost forgotten Ron's pain. He had lost his brother. The thought choked her.
"All these years, Fred never missed a chance to tease me or wind me up," Ron said, voice breaking. "But he was my brother. And I miss him."
Hermione moved closer and wrapped him in an embrace. His red hair mingled with her curls. The weight of loss settled over all of them, and for the first time, they allowed the grief to flow freely.
"I'm glad you're here, Hermione," Ron said, holding her tighter.
By four o'clock, Hermione was back in Poppy's office, keeping the balm in sight every second. She checked the clock regularly. Snape's condition had begun to decline again, but she was confident he could hold on for another hour. Once she applied the balm, she planned to brew another blood-replenishing serum. With that, he should be past the worst — but the balm came first.
Using a spatula, she stirred the dense paste, then carried the bowl to Snape's room, where Poppy was waiting. Snape's hair had been tied up. Poppy removed the damp bandage. It was impossible to tell whether he was conscious; he didn't move at all.
Two inflamed, purplish wounds on his neck made Hermione shiver. She could almost feel Nagini's fangs sinking into him. Thin rivulets of blood trailed down his neck toward the pillow, like a tiny, endless red spring.
After cleaning her hands, Hermione began applying the balm to the wounds. It felt strange to touch his skin — strange, yet unsettlingly familiar. Snape flinched, but thankfully, Poppy had already immobilized him with a spell. In the margins of the recipe, Snape had noted that the balm had to be massaged in with circular motions until it was fully absorbed.
At first, the paste mixed with fresh blood. Hermione cleaned the area repeatedly, then continued massaging in small amounts. Gradually, the wounds began to close, leaving only a few stubborn drops of blood.
Poppy left, telling her to call if his condition worsened.
"What are you doing?" came a weak voice — tinged already with the first hints of irritation.
"Applying healing balm. You'll feel much better tomorrow, Professor," Hermione replied, her heartbeat quickening. She cleaned her hands with a flick of her wand, walked around the bed, and sat facing him. The guilt gnawed at her. Was this truly the right thing to do?
"Didn't we have an agreement?" Snape said, voice strained.
Only then did Hermione meet his eyes. They were tired, but behind them lurked the sharp intelligence — and the biting edge — she knew so well. It was almost comforting to see something so familiar.
"You told me to study Potions," she said softly. "That's all I've done — especially the brews you've developed recently. Your notes on Nagini were flawless. You didn't mean for me to study only in theory, did you, Professor?"
He gave her that same penetrating look she'd endured for six years in his classroom. Something inside her eased; for the first time in days, her face relaxed into a faint smile.
"I'm sorry, Professor. You're the best teacher I've ever had. I didn't want to lose you too."
"If I could, I'd shake my head. But you've seen to it that I can't. I'd also like to deduct twenty points for grossly misinterpreting a teacher's instruction."
His sarcasm had beaten back his death wish. That, Hermione thought, was a good sign.
"Too bad I haven't been your student for four months," she countered, feeling the tension between them slowly dissolve. She dared to push further. "Are those twenty points a promise? Hogwarts reopens in two weeks. I'd happily take the loss if it meant you'd be teaching again."
For a moment, Snape said nothing.
"What has become of my authority, when students now want me to teach them? I find myself almost nostalgic for the old days."
He paused. In his mind, the events of the past days played in rapid sequence. No one else came to mind — no one but this insufferably clever former student — who could have pulled him back from the brink, and made him feel that maybe, just maybe, everything had happened as it should.
"Much as I hate to admit it, I fear this round goes to you, Miss Granger — this round, mind you…"
.
END OF CHAPTER
The story is over on Patreon:
https://www.patreon.com/c/caesar20/posts
You could copy it from bio