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To Make Much Of Time by dionde [Reviews - 7]

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A/N:

This is the last proper chapter; there is an epilogue to follow as well, which will be posted in the next few days. Thank you very much for reading!



Soon after the war, Hermione had used her formidable research skills to track down her parents in Australia. The indefatigable Tonks had been dispatched to lift the Memory Charms, together with Hermione and Ron, who had insisted on coming along to support her. It was a measure of how things had changed that Ron had looked towards Snape and Harry when announcing his intentions at an Order meeting, and that Snape had signalled his approval with a tiny nod. This rather patronising exchange had not been lost on Hermione, who had made it clear that she was Not Impressed once the meeting was over. Harry had a bit more sense, so he escaped her censure.

No one had ever dared quizzing Hermione on whether her parents had consented to being dispatched as Monica and Wendell Wilkins, or even been offered a choice, so it came as a relief to everyone to find out that they had gone voluntarily. They hadn't been happy about it or made the decision lightly, but Hermione had cried and cajoled and finally convinced them to go, after persuading them that whatever they did, she would still go out into the war. As she would have been eighteen in little more than a month, there would have been absolutely nothing they could have done to stop her. She had also pointed out that if she had wanted, she could have joined the regular army. They had raised her to make her own decisions and be true to herself, and that's why she was going with Harry, she had explained. Finally they had accepted that there was nothing they could do, and that they would be best off somewhere safer than in Britain.

After their memories were returned to them, Jean and Alan Granger moved back to the UK into their old house, to be near their daughter. They were very careful not to show it, but no one doubted that they were elated to both have their daughter back and that she was spending a lot of her time living in the same world as them. She wasn't quite the same as she used to be. They noticed little things about her; she got nervous when she didn't know where the nearest exit was, and her eyes would fill with tears over random things, like the emerald-green grass at the Piazza dei Miracoli in Pisa, or when she heard the theme of East Enders, but they slowly got used to each other again.

When they got a call on a cold January day that Hermione had been knocked down on her bike in Oxford and had been taken to hospital, Jean's hands fumbled as she dialled her daughter's former Potions professor. She knew he lived in Cirencester, but he could be at the hospital in a few minutes unlike the Grangers, who had to get through the M25 at rush hour. Mr Snape would know what was best to do for her daughter, she told herself; whether to keep her at the John Radcliffe or dispatching her to St. Elmo's or whatever it was called for magical care.

Snape entered the hospital like an avenging angel, bearing down on his target. He made short work of the medical staff and dispatched his Patronus to Potter. Why the dunderhead didn't just get a mobile phone was beyond his ken. Right now it could be the difference between life and death; Severus had to get Hermione to St. Mungo's now. She looked pale and peaceful as she lay on the metal trolley, not betraying that she had brain damage getting worse with every faint breath she drew. He had locked and warded her room, and created an emergency Portkey when Potter finally replied. All set at St. Mungo's. He scooped up Hermione, his hands clammy with fear as he disconnected her from the Muggle monitors. They had arranged for Harry to be in charge of smoothing things over at the John Radcliffe afterwards; they didn't often have unconscious patients walk out on them.


It had been more than twenty-four hours, and Hermione was still unconscious. Alan and Jean had arrived only an hour after Hermione, to be greeted by a stony-faced Snape. All he had to tell them was that the Healers had taken one look at Hermione and snatched her out of his arms, dangling drip and all. Since then, Alan and Harry had taken turns pacing around the waiting room, which had quickly filled up with Weasleys and other wizarding friends. Snape sat expressionless in a corner; Ginny didn't think he had moved since her mother brought in sandwiches and forced him to take one, and that had been hours ago. He looked like he was back at Hogwarts that terrible year; the same deep lines she remembered being etched on his face then had returned. She wrapped her arms around Harry to pull him closer, not wanting to think of what losing Hermione would do to either of them.


Harry looked like he had had something on his mind, Snape noted and filed that little bit of absolutely fucking useless information with the rest; Alan and Jean Granger were trying to get some rest at the Burrow but would probably be back within the hour; Ginny Potter was dozing off, leaning against her father, who had dropped in between Wizengamot sittings, his plush, purple robes contrasting horribly with his daughter's hair; and Draco Malfoy had returned to the manor after a brief visit, to report to his mother that there still was no change after more than three days and check some references for Snape in the library.

Severus was at the end of his endurance. He had moved between frantic activity, trying force the Healers to let him assist with potions (which they had quite sensibly declined, in case he blew up his own laboratory and himself with it), abject horror at the tentative diagnosis which was irreparable brain damage, and just being miserable with fear and longing and pain. He didn't have enough energy to do anything other than observing the rest of them, and simply ignored the attempts of Minerva or Molly Weasley to comfort him somewhat.

"Severus." Someone touched his elbow, and he turned his head to find Harry. Splendid. "Would you come outside with me for a while?" He hadn't been outside for days, and he hadn't left the waiting area since the last time he'd gone home to have a shower. Which he ought to have done again before now, he noticed and winced. Well, then. Better let Harry get it off his chest, whatever it was, since he was not deterred by the smell.

The smoking area at St. Mungo's was clearly designed to make its visitors give up the habit, offering all the comfort and charm of a vandalised bus stop.

"Are you…" Harry started again, the words coming out in a rush. "Is there any way you feel guilty for Hermione's accident?" Severus looked at him as if he had two heads. Was this what he had been dragged out here for? Harry waited; Snape would almost have said he looked hopeful if he hadn't been too affronted by the inane question to notice.

"No! You can spare me your half-baked psychoanalysis; I'm going back inside. And I have absolutely no desire to talk about it. Whatever it is."

"Wait, please!" Harry grabbed his arm to prevent him from leaving. "I've only seen you acting like this once, in Dumbledore's memories, and I had to be sure." Snape could only stare at him, not liking the direction of this conversation one bit.

"Look, I'd like to think I'm a bit better at reading people than when I was a kid, especially you. You're clearly going through hell at the moment. Even Ron is coping better, and he's horrible when someone is in hospital."

"Your point, Potter?" Harry knew he was right when his surname came out with as much venom as it had during Double Potions with Slytherin.

"You love Hermione. You're in love with her." Severus looked at Harry, older now than James Potter had ever become, and saw him as his own man, not as his parents' son. He did look like a friend you could confide in, with his earnest eyes and firmly set chin. What was the point in denying he loved her anyway? He was reasonably sure it wouldn't be thrown back in his face, and he didn't really care anymore anyway. His focus was firmly attuned to the still figure in the hospital bed three floors up.

"Yes, I love her." He was taken unawares by the wide grin and the slap on the back his words were met with, and had to grab one of the derelict orange plastic chairs to regain his balance.

"Brilliant!" Harry's enthusiasm seemed to light up the tawdry enclosure, but he realised that Snape still looked as grim as before.

"She loves you too, you know." He took pity on Severus, who seemed to have difficulty finding his voice, vacillating between incredulity and fear that Harry was trying to fool him. "She really does, she has for ages." Something changed in Severus' eyes, as he seemed to finally accept that it wasn't a joke, and Harry's grin returned. "I don't care what Hermione will do to me when she finds out that I told you, it's still worth it." Severus was quiet for a long time, and Harry moved to break the silence.

"I know you followed us into the spare room at Grimmauld at the Christmas party this year." This Severus could deal with.

"How?"

"I am an Auror, you know." He should be concerned that Potter could get one up on him, but he didn't really give a toss right now.

"So what she was saying…"

"Hermione has been in love with you for years now, but she never thought you would love her back." His green eyes bore into Severus. "She thinks you're still in love with my mum. That's why she didn't want to tell you. She thinks you wouldn't want to be friends with her anymore if you knew-" He correctly interpreted Snape's glare as vehement denial, and hastened to add: "I know, I know, but that's what she thinks. I figured the least I could do was to find out if you felt the same way about her."

Severus had had to slide down on one of the orange chairs, which creaked ominously under his weight, to gather himself. He put his head in his hands and tried to see the past few years from her point of view. She had always been more affectionate than what he was used to, but he had got used to her casual touches over the years. She did seem to spend a disproportionate amount of time with him rather than her other friends, but he hadn't wanted to analyse their friendship for fear that he would find that it was only pity that led her to his door so often. Hermione would always fight for the mistreated and the downtrodden; he had assumed that his pitiful life so far had put him on her list of worthy causes when they had been thrown together. They were alike in many ways, and he had credited the friendship that sprung up between them to the obvious affinities between them. Never had he dared think that she might love him back! He lifted his head from his hands, and found himself pulled to his feet by Harry.

"Let's go back and see if she has woken up yet, shall we? At least you can give her something to wake up to."


" … the monkshood reacted adversely when I mashed it, so I tried to mince it instead. I think you would have been intrigued with the result. Needless to say, I will need new windows and the world doesn't yet have a cheaper alternative to Shrinking Solution." So she was back in class then. That was OK. She edged back towards blissful oblivion, but the smooth, lecturing voice changed texture and became jagged and urgent, pulling her back towards wakefulness.

"Please come back, Hermione. I don't care if Potter got things arseways as usual and you never give me as much as a smile again. I'd give up anything, anything in the world as long as you wake up again. You can get together with Rolf bloody Scamander or even Longbottom for all I care, I won't be jealous anymore. Please just come back. Please, Hermione." She was pulled back from the sweet nothingness, and gradually became aware of her surroundings. The smell of St. Mungo's, the faint scent of Snape's lavender and anise cologne, and she knew where she was and that she was safe.

She couldn't remember what had happened, but that was only to be expected. She would find out soon enough. Someone shifted next to her and she opened her eyes to the familiar dark shape of Severus, looking like he hadn't slept for a week. He was holding her hand. It felt nice. She was so pleased that he was touching her, for once. She always had to ration her touches so she didn't make him feel awkward or make him think she was clingy. Maybe he did like it if he was doing it on his own accord. She was still feeling a bit drowsy and confused. He sighed and rubbed his face, and started pulling his hand out of hers as he rose out of his chair. She tried to hold on to his hand to make him stay.

When he registered the pressure of her hand he swirled around in a cloud of black wool, hands landing on either side of her shoulders. She smiled at him, and she could pinpoint the exact moment he realised that everything would be all right. He returned her smile tremulously, and drew a long, heaving breath that ended as a sob, and buried his head in the mattress beside her, his shoulders shaking.

"Severus?" He drew one long, last breath and sat up to face her, eyes red-rimmed.

"Forgive me. You have been unconscious for almost a week, and the Healers couldn't detect any brain activity."

"What happened, was I attacked by someone?" He snorted, despite himself.

"No, you were knocked off your bike by some motorist who hit a spot of black ice."

"Oh." She enjoyed just lying there, returning his gaze. He looked at her like she was something precious, like she was something wonderful he had found against hope. She tried to remember what he had said as she was waking up; she had a feeling it was something important.

"What was that you said about not being jealous anymore?" Evidently she wasn't fully herself; she would never ask him such personal questions normally, at least not without careful consideration first. He looked nervous, she noticed with disbelief. Severus Snape might be contrary, surly, brilliant, generous, loyal and brave, but being nervous was definitely not normal for him.

"Hermione, I… " Damn it, he could do this! "Hermione, I love you. If I had my way you would never spend another second with those nincompoops." He suddenly lost his confidence. Who was he to think he was better than them, anyway? None of them had taken the Dark Mark or spent their life trying to atone for their sins by committing more of them, in the name of the Greater Good. "If… You don't have to-"

Hermione's heart rushed, and she was suddenly feeling giddy with joy and hope and happiness; the same feeling she got the first time she used magic or when she was skiing down a perfectly smooth slope in the blazing sunlight, or when she found out that they had won the war. The world seemed to have stopped for breath; she was still in the same shabby-looking hospital ward, but everything was turned on its head. The feeling of rightness was so strong that she got tears in her eyes. She found herself thinking: 'This is it, this is it, this is it!' as she stretched her arms out to him.

Severus had looked down and didn't see the expression on her face, so it came as a surprise when he felt her hands in his hair and her lips against his. Kissing Hermione was nothing like he had expected; it was urgent and warm and he wanted it to last forever. When they finally, reluctantly broke apart her cheeks were rosy and her eyes shining.

"I love you too, Severus. I have for years, but I never thought you'd love me back-" He silenced her with another kiss. He didn't want this… thing between them to start with any omissions. He probably would screw things up anyway, so he'd better confess like a Gryffindor to get this over with.

"I know that. Harry took me aside when we were waiting for you to wake up and told me." He congratulated himself on choosing the right option when he saw her eyes light up in anger and she sat up straighter in bed.

"Harry James POTTER!" she almost shouted. "I can't believe he told you that! I'll make the Bat-Bogey Hex look like a bloody picnic when I get hold of him!" she continued, momentarily distracted from Severus. It didn't matter whether Hermione could do any magic or not; when her hair appeared to stand out on its own wise men didn't get in her way.

Her raised voice and wards being tripped had alerted the Healers and the people waiting outsides that something was happening, and just as she was about to turn back to Severus and forget about Harry, they all poured in, relieved beyond measure that she was awake and talking. After half an hour she had had enough, and got Severus to empty the room so they could resume their private... conversation. He took inordinate pleasure in closing the door in Ron's face.


To Make Much Of Time by dionde [Reviews - 7]

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