He rose through the thick woolen layers of consciousness like water. His awareness seeped, ebbed like the returning tide, back into his limbs. Heaviness and a dull throbbing pervaded his senses. He felt cool air on the bottoms of his feet, felt the smoothness of infirmary sheets beneath his fingertips. There was a dread weight on his right arm, but he could feel it, could feel each finger. His bones ached but he was intact, praise Hecate.

He could also feel the cursed tickle of something on his cheek, across his eyes. It wasn't enough that he'd channelled and grounded an unknowable number of Unforgivables in the space of the battle's final half hour. No, the gods saw fit reward his steadfast defense of Potter's rear echelon with a fierce and persistent itch. His pain addled brain ventured a few guesses. Spider web, spanish moss, funereal shroud. Wouldn't that be rich? Buried alive. Mayhap a fitting end to this pathetic struggle some called life.

Indelicately, he blew a burst of air over his upper lip, trying to dislodge the bothersome irritant. The weight on his shoulder jerked, sending a shock of pain through his long limbs. His eyes flew open and he let loose a string of vulgarity in a hoarse whisper. His reward was the sight of her face, tear-streaked ruddy cheeks and bright eyes wide with wonder.

"Severus?!" She touched his cheek and he grimaced, his numb right hand coming up to grab her wrist.

"Apparently," he croaked. "Woman, get your hair out of my face, if you don't mind." She lightly brushed the strands of hair away from his eyes. Hermione couldn't speak, could only bite back sobs of relief. His hand rose to push back her hair from her face as he shushed her. His fingers found the gash at the corner of her mouth, freshly split with her broad smile. Her blood was vivid on his fingertips. "You're bleeding," he murmured.

She only nodded before resting her head on his chest again, her fingers gripping the stained linen of his shirt. His joints and muscles protesting every movement, he found his arms enfolding her, clutching her close. "Shh, silly girl. Of course I'm not dead. Mephistopheles wouldn't have me, just as you predicted." He rested his cheek on the top of her head and held her as she shook.

"Don't ever leave me again, you overgrown bat!" He chuckled at the venom in her voice and then groaned as he felt the ends of his broken ribs grinding against each other.

"Hermione, love. I need to draw breath," he hissed and she drew back a touch, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"What -- what did you say?" He could barely hear her voice.

"I said I can't breathe when you're pressing on my cracked ribs, are you deaf?" It was amazing the way he could still fix her with a raised eyebrow even with one eye swollen shut.

"No, no, before that."

He took her chin between forefinger and thumb, and closed her mouth. "For such a clever witch, you really should learn to pay closer attention. I said --"

She leaned in and he tensed again, biting back another stream of curses. She rearranged herself beside him, muttering apologies until his strong grasp stilled her once more. Her hands were shaking and her eyes were bright as the morning star when she turned her gaze to his again. "You said?"

He sighed and tightened his grip on her. "I *said* that should you graduate, which you have, and should we both survive the war, another point that seems to have come to pass, and should you find yourself still willing to entertain the affections of a battered and decrepit wizard twice your age, then we would -- discuss the possibility."

"You said it would take a miracle." She breathed the words, her hand resting on his cheek again.

"So I did. And -- here we are." The corner of his mouth curled up in a strangely appealing smirk. "Now, give me a kiss - gently! And then call Poppy for me. I need something for the pain."

He felt her mouth against his, felt her breath and her tears on his cheek. His heart caught in his throat and a myriad of sensations passed over and through him. It was akin to having stayed up all night to watch the sun rise over the ocean.

Suddenly the pain of his body seemed less, bearable even. Even more amazing, the perpetual darkness that clouded his soul seemed lighter, somehow.

A miracle indeed.