Chapter 31: Waiting Games

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Thanks to VIVAvivacious for beta-ing this chapter.

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The sun created lines of shadows on the whitewashed walls of room through the blinds shading the windows.

Snape opened his eyes wearily, rubbing a hand over them to clear the sleep as he woke from his slumber. His neck ached, which meant he had fallen asleep sitting up again. It had been a pattern of his for the past four days. He looked at the pocket watch he pulled from pocket of his open waistcoat, noting that it was nearing sunset. He waved a hand in the direction of the blinds, making them open up just a little more. Even if she was still unconscious, Hermione would appreciate being able to enjoy the sunrises and sunsets with him.

He allowed his gaze to slip from the window to the occupant in the bed beside him. Hermione's eyes were still shut as tightly as they had been the day she was brought in. The hospital gown that covered her form hid her heavily-bandaged midsection from view, although he figured it was for the best that way. The wound still had traces of dark magic lingering, preventing it from being able to heal properly.

The Dark Lord had been destroyed by the combined power of himself, Harry Potter and Hermione, just four days beforehand. The only person who left the Minister of Magic's office wounded had been the woman that he loved. At some point during their tandem casting of the Killing curse, Voldemort had managed to fire off one last spell...a dark spell. It was a spell Snape had never heard of before, and it had sliced her side open and prevented it from being able to heal properly, no matter how many times the Healers had attempted to stitch it.

In the end they had resorted to stitching the wound up the Muggle way, dosing her with Blood Replenishing Potion frequently and cleaning the wound with antiseptic as often as they could. Snape had never felt more disheartened in his entire life. If they were unable to help Hermione, he was not certain he would be able to continue on without her. Too many times in his life had Voldemort taken away the people he loved...the ones who loved him in return.

Blinking back the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes, he reached his hand over and grasped one of Hermione's pale, cold hands in his.

This was his only comfort, sitting by her side and desperately wishing for her recovery. He was about to stand and collect the bowl of water and a washcloth to begin cleaning her face and neck when he hard a knock at the door to the room. He turned around to see it open and reveal Luna Lovegood and Draco standing in the doorway.

'How is she doing?' Luna asked softly, tears filling her once bright, blue eyes.

'There are no changes,' Snape replied, his heart clenching painfully in his chest as he spoke.

'We were hoping it would not be too much if we asked to sit with her for a while,' Draco said, closing the door behind him.

'By all means,' Snape replied, summoning another chair from the corner to sit beside the one he had already pulled up to the side of the bed. 'Hermione would be pleased you have both come to visit her.'

Luna sat down in the chair Snape ordinarily occupied while Draco commandeered the chair beside it. Snape watched as the younger witch lifted Hermione's cold hand into her own, the tears sliding down her cheeks unchecked. He continued over to the dresser to retrieve the basin and washcloth, casting a spell to fill it with warm water before carrying it over to the unoccupied side of Hermione's bed. Dipping the cloth into the water, he wrung it out before gently beginning to clean her face.

'How is your own injury faring?' Snape asked, looking over at his godson.

'They finally let me out of my room today,' Draco answered as he gently rubbed Luna's back with one hand as she cried. 'I'll be discharged from St. Mungo's tomorrow, but they said Hermione did such a good job of healing me at the beginning that the muscles will regenerate fully within the next couple weeks.'

'She always was rather thorough,' Snape said, a fond smiled appearing on his mouth as he looked down at the woman he loved.

'Why is it that they are having so much trouble with healing her magically?' Luna asked as she swiped at the tears on her face.

'As capable as the Healers here at St. Mungo's are, there is very little they can do as far as the curse goes,' he answered quietly. 'I have done some research as well, and all of what I have found has indicated that healing spells feed the curse and allow it to continue to affect her and refuse to let the wound to close. If we starve the curse of magic, it will eventually come to an end, and she can then begin to heal.'

'That makes sense,' Luna agreed. 'But who knows how long it will take for the curse to run out of steam?'

'I should think it will cease to affect her in another few days, but we have to try and keep her with us until at least then, or her body will be too frail to heal itself.'

As he spoke, his voice became rough with emotion, and he felt himself on the brink of tears yet again. For a man that could count the number of times he had cried in his life, he was one that had lost count of the number of times he had been forced to stop himself from crying over the last four days. It was all he could do to keep it together when the chance of losing Hermione was a very real possibility.

'The nurse outside told me that you barely leave the room except to shower and eat for two hours a day,' Draco said, looking up at him in disapproval. 'You need to start taking better care of yourself, or Hermione will have nothing to come back to when you are withered away to nothing.'

Snape closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he wiped the washcloth over Hermione's forehead one last time before carrying it back over to the dresser. Returning to her bedside, he sat down beside her and grasped her free hand in his, stroking his thumb over her prominent knuckles.

'I know you're right,' he said softly. 'But I just couldn't bear to leave her alone for any longer than I have to. What if she wakes up while I am gone? What would she think?'

'The Healers would tell her that you needed to rest,' Draco replied, a trace of annoyance settling into his tone. 'There will be someone here to watch over her, even if you leave for a few hours to sleep at home in your own bed.'

'I don't trust many other people a great deal,' Snape confided quietly.

'Let Luna and I take a shift and watch her whenever you need to sleep,' Draco implored softly. 'We are just as capable as you at keeping watch.'

Snape opened his mouth to protest, but instead a long yawn emitted. He covered it with his hand quickly, but he knew then that Draco made sense. He was weary beyond belief, and the naps he took in the chair beside Hermione's bed only refreshed him so much before he was tired again.

'Very well,' Snape answered. 'As soon as you have been released tomorrow, come by here and we will work out a schedule for who will stay with Hermione when. But tonight, I will remain here with her, and Draco, you shall sleep in your room here, and Miss Lovegood, I trust you will also get a good night's sleep at home. I won't have either of you sleep-deprived as well.'

They both nodded in agreement, and the three fell into silence. An hour or so later, Luna and Draco left the room, and Snape returned one of the chairs to the corner manually before returning to his place by Hermione's side. Gripping her hand in his own once more, he sat and began to think about the kind of life they would have together when she finally awoke from her coma.

He dreamed that the two of them would leave the country...he would quit teaching, and Hermione could finish both of her Apprenticeships wherever they chose to go. They could buy a house together, and he could start a garden in the backyard where he would grow the finest potion ingredients available...become an independent brewer and supply both schools and apothecaries throughout Europe.

He smiled sadly for a moment. He only hoped his dream would be allowed the chance to become a reality.

Some time later, Snape awoke to find he had once more drifted off in his chair, this time with his head resting on his arms that were propped on the bed beside Hermione. He sat up and felt the ache in his back screaming at him for falling asleep like that yet again. His body protested with another stab of pain as he stood from the chair, stretching and flexing his body until it began to feel normal once more. When he walked over to the window and closed the blinds, he was startled when he heard the door to the room open once more.

He turned to see that it was the nurse, her head peeking in through the partially-opened doorway.

'Miss Granger has some visitors, Professor Snape,' she said, flashing a kind smile at him that reminded him vaguely of the way Molly Weasley had once smiled at him.

'Who is it?' he asked quietly.

'It's Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Ginevra Weasley, sir,' she answered.

Snape felt anger bubble up within him. The nerve of the boy to pretend he even cared about what had happened to one of his supposed best friends four days beforehand. He shut his eyes and took several calming breaths to prevent him from taking his anger out on the St. Mungo's staff.

'If you would turn them away, I would be most grateful,' he answered. 'Hermione would not want to see them if she was awake, and I doubt she'd be grateful if I allowed them entry while she is in this state.'

'Very well, Professor,' the nurse answered. 'Is there anything I can get for you, sir?'

'I would love a cup of coffee if you have the time,' he answered.

'Not a problem, sir,' she answered with a cheery smile. 'How would you like it?'

'Black, strong with no sugar or cream,' he answered.

'I'll be back in just a few minutes with it.'

'You have my thanks.'

The door closed behind the witch, and Snape let a harsh puff of air pass through his lips as he struggled to keep himself from punching the wall. Why did everything have to be about Potter and what he wanted? The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice was still proving to be the biggest pain in his rear end despite not even having to teach or watch out for the boy anymore. If it weren't for the life debt he owed Lily and James Potter for being the one to tell the Dark Lord of the prophecy in the first place, he would have hexed the boy a long time ago.

He paced the room until he no longer felt like he might spontaneously combust. Just as he stopped, the nurse returned with his coffee. Accepting it gratefully, he slumped back into the chair beside Hermione's bed, holding her hand with one of his while he held the cup with the other, taking a sip of the strong, black liquid. It was just as he liked it.

When he had finished, he walked over to the dresser and sat the empty mug beside the now-empty bowl, watching it disappear from sight. They really were quite a lot more efficient than he ever imagined they would be.

Turning back to look over at Hermione, he sighed.

She looked so small and fragile as she lay there on the bed. Her brown curls seemed duller in shade than usual, and her skin was slightly grey. The moonlight that shone into the room through a slight gap between two of the blinds illuminated her face. He felt his heart clench with sadness.

He didn't know what he would do if Hermione didn't survive.

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A/N – A sad chapter, yes, but essential to the plot.