Tourniquet

I tried to kill the pain

~ "Tourniquet" by Evanescence

I was running through the labyrinth which makes up a dream Hogwarts. Halls and halls of the same grey stone walls. I had no way to discern where I happened to be, or even what floor I could be running on. But I knew I needed to get to the library.

Something in my brain told me to get to him, so I started to run once more. I knew the root was close, but I could see the spine of the book I needed. Just as my pursuer wrapped its green vines around my ankle, I lunged for the blood-red book, but it was too late.

He squatted down next to my prone form, and I felt him wipe a teardrop from my cheek. He leaned forward until I could feel his breath. And then, ever so softly, he whispered in my ear, "I do believe it's about time for you to help me."

Then I woke up.

Gasping for breath and covered in cold sweat, I summoned my notebook and pen. I began to write all the details of my nightmare. This dream had things going on which I had never experienced before. At the top of the list was that Professor Snape spoke to me. He touched me... I could feel his presence as surely as I could feel the valerian root covering me like moss on a rotted log.

The next thing that struck me was how badly I had to get to that book. And of course I couldn't remember the title of it after waking. I also noted that I was being chased and held down by valerian root.

"Valerian root is one of the main ingredients in The Draught of Living Death..." I muttered while making more notes regarding my strange nighttime escapade. "It's extremely convenient that I'm assigning that potion to my sixth years today..."

I glanced over at my clock. "Six a.m. I might as well just stay up at this point."

So before even leaving my bed, I reached over and snatched up the journal once more. I flipped through the pages, trying to figure out what I should read next.

I wonder if he completed his work... he might have mentioned his success or failure in his last entry... My thoughts trailed off as I turned the book over and opened the back cover and sifted through the pages to find where they were last written on.

1 May 1998

The storm is brewing; tonight is the night... I can feel it. I feel as though this is the epitome of the quiet before the storm. I know I'm as prepared for this day as I could be, but I still can't believe this is finally the end. I've been waiting for this day for seventeen years. Some nights I've even begged for it, for my role in this sordid affair to come to an end.

These simple things will be what I'll miss the most about being alive. But, in the end, at least the pain of loneliness and the torture of regret will have ended. I'm confident that my continued existence will be exactly as I have planned. I may not know how death will try to claim me, but I am comforted by the knowledge that I'll be with you again... even if it's only my imagination.

I could easily picture him sitting behind the headmaster's desk clearly in my mind.

"He must have been hunched over this book greedily scribbling his last known thoughts down... enjoying just a few moments peace. So... in the end he thinks he succeeded," I said quietly.

I contemplated all the ideas that accompanied this realization. The thought that Professor Snape might still be alive somewhere if it worked, wondering where his body might be if this were true and where I would even start trying to solve this puzzle.

Unfortunately for me, I couldn't tackle any of these problems until at least later in the evening.

I smiled brightly at my sixth years as they filed into my classroom. I could see them sizing me up as they took their seats. I had been so relieved by the timing of me coming to teach at Hogwarts. The age difference between myself and the seventh years happened to be just perfect. I didn't have to teach anyone that I had previously attended school with.

I thought of Professor Snape briefly in that moment. I knew he was very young when he first started teaching and more than likely had to teach students who had once been his peers. I couldn't even imagine how difficult gaining respect and keeping order must have been.

I wonder if that had contributed to his foul, taskmaster persona...

When everyone had settled in, I began to address the classroom.

"Good morning, class. As you may already know, I am Professor Granger. Just so you know, I have reviewed your past years' work from Professor Slughorn and am therefore familiar with what you have already been taught."

I continued my introductory speech as I paced the front of the classroom. I wasn't surprised that I held their attention. The upperclassmen who took Potions had a genuine interest in the subject or they needed to pass the course as a prerequisite for their future careers.

After I finished going through my list of expectations and fielded a few questions that came up, it was time to start the lesson.

"Today we will be brewing the Draught of Living Death." I said as I pulled out my wand and pointed it at the black board. The concealment charm faded to reveal all of my directions.

"Please follow these instructions carefully and make sure you stop before cutting the sopophorus beans. The recipe for this potion can also be found on page ten of your textbook. If you have any questions, please raise your hand. I will be walking around the room to monitor your progress. You may begin now."

I prowled the classroom in a way mildly reminiscent of my former Potions master. The difference between us was the fact that I didn't give the impression that I wanted to scare the daylights out of my students.

I returned to the front of the classroom and watched as pair by pair the students cast stasis charms on their cauldrons. The room was filled with the standard blue steam that accompanies the Draught of Living Death. While they were finishing up I started to get myself ready for the next part of their lesson. I transfigured a spare cauldron that I had sitting on my desk into a metal table. Next I set my silver knife and some sopophorus beans on the table top.

"All right everyone, please come up to the front of the room and gather around this table. Make sure everyone can see what I'm doing."

The sound of rustling robes and scraping stools filled the room as the students moved to watch my demonstration.

"Now that we are in the sopophorus bean stage of the Draught, I would like to show you an alternate method of harvesting the juice from the bean. This method was taught to me in my sixth year," I said as I looked around to make sure I still held everyone's attention.

Before I could begin the actual demonstration, I noticed a hand shoot into the air. "Yes, Miss Hawthorne?"

"Professor, if this method is better, why isn't it part of our text book?" she asked boldly.

I expected this type of question and wasn't the least bit surprised that it had come from a Ravenclaw.

"Because the man who thought of this technique, as well as many other alternatives, passed away before he could re-write your textbooks," I said as matter of fact as possible.

I proceeded to show my students how to use their silver knives to crush the juice from the bean instead of trying to cut them.

After my small side lesson, the students returned to their cauldrons and proceeded to take care of the beans just as I had shown them.

The remainder of the lesson passed without incident, and in the end, twelve out of thirteen pairs produced a viable Draught of Living Death. I assigned further reading on the Draught and a small essay for homework and sent them on their way.

When I returned to my quarters after dinner, I was delighted to see a familiar dark-haired head floating in my fireplace.

"Harry! It's so nice of you to call!" I called out excitedly. I hustled across the room and knelt in front of the hearth.

"Hello, Hermione. I thought I missed you again."

"I just got in from dinner, actually. What's up?"

"Well, I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me tomorrow night at the Three Broomsticks?"

"That would be wonderful! I don't have rounds on Fridays... Is everything okay?"

I was a little wary. At that point it had been a few months since I heard from Harry. Our interactions were limited while I was in Germany, and he of course had his own personal pursuits.

"Yes!" he said, exasperated. "Can't I simply want to spend time with one of my closest friends?"

Relieved by his response, but still suspicious, I agreed to meet him at six thirty for dinner. After a few more moments we both agreed we would talk more tomorrow and ended the Floo call.

I got up and sauntered to my kitchenette to make some tea. While preparing my drink, I began thinking about the fruitless trip I made to the library this afternoon.

I don't know why I thought I could just walk in there and see the exact same book and know that's the one I was dreaming about... Plus I didn't have a title, an author or any way to find it... I was just hoping that maybe I might recognize the cover or the shelf it was on... It's just so frustrating!

Tea in hand, I went to get the journal from my bedroom. From there I proceeded to get comfortable in my favorite armchair in front of the fire.

27 July 1994

In an attempt to get my mind off things, I went to London today. I know, with everything that has been going on, I shouldn't just leave the castle on a shopping excursion, but I needed to escape for just a few hours. I needed to be someone else, just a normal Muggle, with simple Muggle problems. I longed to be surrounded by people who weren't touched by war and torture every moment of the day.

She had wanted to appear dead until her true love could find her. I vaguely remember reading about a curse that could have the same effect... If I can find the book, it might be exactly what I'm looking for. I know there would be no one to break the curse, so I could stay in a perpetual coma for eternity. I need to do more research, obviously. At least my field trip did more than just ease my mind...

He really did love books as much as I do... and Shakespeare, how appropriate... I thought after completing the entry.

I continued to read the journal for hours in hopes of finding a solid starting point. I knew it was time to stop when my eyes began to water from tiredness.

I stood, stretched and headed back to my bedroom, journal in hand. After I completed my evening routine I snuggled down into my bed and let my thoughts linger on the man whose personal thoughts I'd been reading all night.

"Merlin, reading this book is going to kill me," I groaned as I punched a pillow.

I just want to hold him. I've been reading about his pain and torment for hours and all I want to do is reach out to him. To tell him someone cares... that I understand. I understand all about guilt and the torture that accompanies it. Because that's what he does to me. Just as he feels he signed Lily's death warrant, I know I just as surely killed him that night in the shack. I'm reminded with every word that I read, that this light... and this mind are no longer a part of the world right now because I froze... And now... I can't stop thinking that maybe, just maybe, we're both getting a second chance here. If I can find a way to right my wrong, redemption could be at hand...

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Much love to my alpha team of awesomeness and squishes to karelia for being the awesome beta and friend that she is.