Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Hermione felt warm and snuggled farther into the soft covers. A scent hit her nose... What is that delicious smell? she thought to herself. Suddenly she remembered, and realized she was staring into the eyes of a ghost.

She sat up quickly and groaned as her head swam with dizziness and pain. “Where...?” she called out, frightened.

“You are safe,” a rattling voice said kindly.

She fell back onto the pillows, groaned, and held her head. She could feel a large lump on her forehead. She struggled to open her eyes.“Who?” she asked.

“I think you know who, Miss Granger.”

“Professor Snape, are you a ghost?” Hermione asked.

An odd rattling sound escaped the specter. “Hardly,” he said.

“I saw you die!”

“I am half dead, but it seems my lot to stay on this god forsaken world… here.”

Hermione felt him sit on the edge of the warm bed.

“I have a potion for you. It should take the swelling down so that you can open your eyes. I could not give it to you until you were awake.” His voice was but a rasping whisper. “Grab my arm and pull yourself up. I will press the vial to your lips. Drink all of it, please.”

Hermione reached out and felt his arm, she grabbed a hold of it and he pulled her into a sitting position, then she felt the vial against her lips. The potion was like thick syrup, and she swallowed it quickly, not lingering over the horrid taste.

“Here, drink this,” he said. “It’s tea.”

She gratefully sipped the warm tea. Within a few minutes of being settled back against the pillows, she felt the pain fade and the swelling decrease. She then realized she could open her eyes a bit. After five more minutes, she could see well again.

She tried to hide her discomfort when she looked into Snape’s face. He was pale and his hair hung in graying streaks, matted and dull. It was long, falling past his shoulders. His throat was bandaged to cover the damage inflicted by Nagini’s fangs. Hermione was horrified to see the bandages blood-stained from wounds that had never closed. Hermione’s eyes clouded with tears.

He turned away, getting up. He moved slowly across the room. She could see that he dragged his leg behind him.

“You cry for me!” he spat. “Do not waste your tears. I am less than the rats that scurry throughout the halls of this tomb.”

Hermione struggled to sit, ignoring the residual pounding in her head. “You’re a hero, Professor. I saw the memories you gave Harry. Why do you hide in this dead, empty place?”

He turned back, and Hermione realized that the damage was not only to his neck and leg, but his hand was also curled up, the fingers seemingly useless.

“You see what I am, half alive. I cannot move my hand. How can I make the potions that were my life?”

Overwhelmed by the feelings this discussion was causing, Hermione flew off the bed. Before Snape could protest, she pulled him tightly against her. He stiffened and tried to back away, but she held him tightly. Suddenly he was so overcome with emotion that a sob tore from him, and he reluctantly wrapped his arms around her and held on for dear life.