Author’s Note: This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic, so please let me know what you think! It’s not the SS/HG ending I would like, but I hope to write more of that in the future.
Some of the dialogue and the title is taken from My Chemical Romance’s “I’m Not Okay (Trust Me)” and the characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
The breath caught in Hermione’s throat as she watched his pale eyelids flutter open. Hearing the sound, Snape attempted to turn his head in its direction, only to find himself paralyzed, blinded with pain.
He should be dead.
The puncture wounds in his neck, oblong bloody gashes created by Voldemort’s familiar and living Horcrux, the deadly serpent Nagini, should have killed him. But, there he lay on the splintered wooden floors of the Shrieking Shack, eyes open, vision blurry, with air-filled lungs and a beating heart.
Each breath he took became less labored as minutes ticked by, and though his vision remained foggy, the burning pain which leapt from his neck and up his spine began to ebb away. He could still clearly hear the gasping sobs of a young woman above him. As if his brain was finally receiving oxygen, the haze began to disappear, revealing the sobbing young woman to be Hermione Granger, kneeling beside him with hands and frizzy hair covering her face.
As if feeling his glare, she removed her hands from her face to cast him a curious glance.
“Professor Snape?” she asked, her voice breathy.
“I should be dead,” Snape gasped out, finding his usually terrifyingly deep voice missing.
Hermione let out another sob, her shoulders hunching and her hands flying to cover her face once more. Snape sighed, trying to sit up, only to find his energy lacking. ‘Well,' he thought with anguish as he settled on the dusty floor once more, ‘this has not gone at all as planned.’
The plan, at least as Snape had imagined it, was simple. He would die. He knew the Dark Lord’s determination to gain the allegiance of the Elder Wand, and since Snape had killed Dumbledore, begrudgingly, it was obvious that the Dark Lord would believe killing Snape would be a quick fix to his nagging problem.
And Snape was prepared.
Life had not been easy for Severus Snape, and he had certainly made enough mistakes to justify that. But, having given his life to rectifying that which was in his opinion his most terrible, heartbreaking, and most unforgivable mistake, he was quite settled to call it a day. This decision was made infinitely easier with the last minute appearance of Harry Potter, the boy who lived to be the continual pain in his ass, finally deemed to put his skill for wandering where he didn’t belong into good use.
Yes, with the last information given to Potter and his part complete, Snape was ready to close his eyes one last time. He had no reason to believe in any kind of afterlife, except for those almond-shaped, green eyes, the image of which remained with him as he began to lose consciousness.
However, the peace which he had reached, both with himself and his actions, was now shattered. He was alive, damn it! And there was only one person who could possibly be responsible. Currently, she was still kneeling beside him, emitting dry, gasping sobs, having finally expended her reserve of tears.
Groaning, Snape closed his eyes again, hoping beyond hope that it was fluke, and maybe he would just drift away.
“Oh, Professor Snape!” Hermione cried, grasping his shoulders and shaking him roughly. “You must stay awake! It’s the only way you can be fully healed.”
He opened his eyes to glare once more, only to catch Hermione’s wide-eyed stare. Suddenly, she forced herself upon him, the full weight of her body thrown across his chest, her wild hair covering his nose and mouth in a suffocating fashion.
“I was so worried!” she exclaimed, taking no notice of the return of his labored breathing. “I must have poured every elixir I had down your throat.” As if realizing her carelessness, Hermione trembled slightly as she gasped, “I’m so glad you’re okay!”
Gathering all of his energy, he managed to emit a rumble enough to shock Hermione into removing herself from his body.
“I’m not okay.”
Worry lighted her eyes.
“But, Professor, you’re breathing again, and the bleeding has stopped,” Hermione related, as if willing him to continue living. “You’ll see things will be different now! You will be honored for your work!”
“My work?” Snape questioned hoarsely from his position beneath her. “I hardly think serving the Dark Lord warrants a medal of honor.”
“You don’t understand!” urged Hermione. She hadn’t thrown herself across his chest again, but her face was disconcertingly close, her brown eyes gleaming as they met his passionately. “The war is over! Your part has been revealed! You will be honored as a hero!”
“I have no desire for such things,” Snape responded tiredly. “Death would be my reward for the endless stress my life has become.”
“But, but...” Hermione insisted.
“What will it take to show you that it’s not the life it seems?” Snape groaned as he feebily held his arms up in an attempt to push her further away from him. “I’ve told you time and time again, you sing the words, but don’t know what they mean.”
This statement caused Hermione to puff up, leaning back on her heels and giving Snape an imperious glare.
“You know, I’m more than just the know-it-all you’ve accused me of being,” retorted Hermione haughtily. “I fought for my life this last year!”
‘Fought for her life?’ Snape thought to himself angrily. ‘What did she know of fighting for her life?’ His entire life had been a fight, with the Marauders, with his family, with his two masters, and in recent years, with her and her two cohorts. No, what he deserved was a rest, a quiet and peaceful death.
As if the emotion had increased his adrenaline, Snape suddenly had the energy to sit up, which he did with vigor so that he was once again nose to nose with Hermione, hoping his fiery glare would frighten her into submission.
“Do you know what it is to be a joke, Miss Granger?” he asked, venom dripping from his words. “All the dirty looks? I am tired and have served my purpose. Leave me in peace!”
Hermione shrunk away as he spat out the last word. Finding her voice, she managed to beg “But things will be different now that everyone knows.”
Snape felt his anger begin to boil, and without warning, he was on his feet, stomping towards her, dust rising in his wake.
“Now I really need you to listen to me,” Snape whispered sharply once he reached within towering distance. “I mean this, I’m not okay. Trust. Me.” The last words slipped out of his mouth with the poetic pronunciation with which he was accustomed to speaking.
Hermione simply gaped under him, stumbling backwards onto the floor, finally crawling back in fear. Her movements across the battered floor left streaks in the grime. Despite this, Snape continued his approach, taking care to yell his next statements and squash any protests Hermione might muster the courage to sputter.
“I’m not okay! I’m not o-fucking-kay!”
That final, visceral cry seemed to do the trick. In a state of exhaustion, Snape’s vision went black. Although blind, he felt his muscles go loose as he stumbled forward and backward before collapsing upon himself like a drowning spider. The last words Snape heard was a whispered, “I’m sorry,” before hearing nothing at all.
He was well, and truly dead.