Losing

Thank you goes to Lady Karelia for her wonderful enthusiasm and excellent Beta skills!

"I can't believe you! You kept us all waiting for you, Hermione. Ginny was unbelievably disappointed!"

"Ron, I'm sorry. But I told you, I found..."

"I know! You found Snape! That's great! But you had people depending on you here! Harry and Ginny were counting on you!"

"I'm not worried about Harry and Ginny, Ron. They understood why we missed the movie and were thrilled at why I was late. I'm just upset I disappointed you. It won't happen again, I promise. I'll get the tickets exchanged. We can go another night."

Ron threw up his hands. "You just don't understand, do you? You don't get it! It's not about me, it's about them. I thought I could count on you to have my back as I did something good for them! But you're off fixing everyone else except my family!"

Hermione felt close to screaming. She was so angry with him her jaw ached from grinding, but she couldn't let it out. She couldn't tell him that he wouldn't let her help...that his family didn't want her to fix them. Ron was as fragile as glass. If she lost her control now, she could hurt him terribly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He sighed and walked away.

That night, when he came to her room, he slept in Ginny's bed.

Hermione dashed through the ward with a stack of dirty meal trays. She scraped them into the bin, stacked them to the side, sanitized her hands, snatched up a pile of clean sheets, and then darted off in a new direction.

She hit the door with her hip.

"Are you ready for the next paper, Professor? Or do you want to take a break? Oh, shit, that's two questions." She shoved the linen in the cupboard, went over to his bed, and pulled down the long spindle she'd erected over his head. "Another?"

Yes.

She shook her head, fed the next Daily Prophet into the spindle, and hooked it back up. She tapped it with her wand. "Is the amount of time per page working for you?"

Yes.

"Do you need anything else?"

No.

"All right, I'll be back."

He gave her the look she'd come to interpret as a combination of 'thank you,' 'good bye,' and 'you have pleased me'...a slight scrunching of the eyes. He probably would have swallowed his tongue if he knew she'd dubbed it 'the eyehug' in her head.

"Catch you later."

She dashed back out of the room to go change Cho's sheets.

"What are you working on?" Harry asked, sitting down next to her on the couch.

"I'm trying to figure out how to convert my spindle invention for books. Arthur and I scrounged around in his shed, and I think I'm close."

"Ah. How's it going with Snape, anyway?"

"Good. I think. He's making progress. The Crucio effect seems to have worn off. He can stand touch now. He's still paralyzed, but his hair has grown back in. He's like you. You know, how your hair always grows back over night after a haircut? He's already got about three inches and it's only been two weeks. Thank god. The man looked ridiculous bald." Hermione shuddered. "I'm running out of things to give him to read. He reads incredibly fast. Faster than me, if you can believe it. We've run through all the latest journals, so I want to rig up books."

"Has he talked to you yet? Has he told you anything?"

Hermione looked up from the wires she'd been binding together. "Harry, he has a tube down his throat, and his mouth is taped shut, never mind the drain in his neck. He can't swallow, never mind talk. I know you want to speak to him, but there's only so much one can convey with yes or no."

Harry looked abashed. "I forgot. You always seem to talk about him as if you're having conversations."

She laughed. "No. Conversing implies a willing exchange. He's basically a victim of my chatter. I suspect if he ever gets his voice back his first words will be, 'Granger, shut up.' " She fiddled with her gizmo. "Although, I have to say, we've worked out a pretty good form of communication despite the barriers. I can tell I don't irritate him as much as I would have thought. He can say so much with his eyes. Just his eyes, you know? It's like, he's paralyzed, but I can still read his body language." She snorted. "At least I think I can. I could be wrong, and he could be nearly demented with how thick I am."

"Did you tell him Kingsley is holding an inquest to exonerate him?"

Her face clouded. "I did." She twisted another wire around the thin metal rod she held. "I don't think he cared. He didn't seem pleased." She picked up the wire cutters and snipped off the end. "Honestly, Harry. I'm beginning to think Snape didn't want to survive. I think that's why his recovery is so slow. Little things are taking the longest time to heal, and they can't explain it. Pye says he thinks that Snape is actively working against his own healing."

Harry looked at her in surprise. "That doesn't make sense. Why would he have been so relieved to find out he wasn't going to stay paralyzed then?"

Hermione lifted up her head and looked at him. "Oh! I hadn't thought of that. You're right!" She added another little rod to her bundle and picked up another wire. "I'll have to tell Pye that. There must be some other explanation."

Harry kicked back on the couch. "How are the rest of your patients?"

"Good. Mr. Reilly was released today. He'll be back for treatments, but he's almost good as new. Oh! Did I tell you Lavender came back to volunteer?"

"That's great!"

"Yeah, I was so excited to see her in the pinstripes. Funny how things change. All those years as roommates and we couldn't stand each other. Now we get on really well."

"Things always change in unexpected ways," Harry said.

His tone made Hermione close her eyes.

"I heard you and Ron arguing again last night."

Hermione just shook her head. "It was nothing."

"I know. It's been a whole lot of nothing, Hermione. How much longer are you two going to let this go on?"

"It will get better."

Harry sighed. "Are you sure?"

Hermione's eyes pricked with tears, and she looked back down at her gizmo with blurry eyes.

"Good morning, Professor. I finally finished my gizmo. I already loaded it up with a book, and it will spin ten pages before I need to reset it.

"I was up all night trying to figure out what you would like to read. I thought Shakespeare was a bit twee, and War and Peace seemed too trite. I couldn't figure out what would constitute escapism for someone as intelligent as you. Then I decided to go with Salman Rushdie, Umberto Eco, and Iain Banks. If you hate those, then we'll need to play twenty questions. I think you'll like Banks. He's completely nutters, but the genius kind of nutters. Very surrealistic, brainy stuff. I thought we'd start without the M. I don't know how much science fiction you could handle without being confused by the science."

She finished babbling, replaced the spindle with her gizmo, and looked down at him.

He held her gaze and slowly lifted an eyebrow. He'd been able to lower them all along, but this was the first time she'd seen him raise it.

"Professor! Your eyebrow! Can you move them both?"

He blinked and then slowly waggled them, looking smug. "That's wonderful! What else can you do?"

She snatched his chart up and skimmed through the pages. "Fingers and toes!"

She yanked up the blankets covering his feet and watched as he moved his toes. She felt ridiculously proud. "Good heavens. I think I'm going to cry. No, I'm not going to look at you. I already know you think I'm daft, so whatever look you have in your eyes is utterly wasted." She heard him snort through his nose and peeked at him anyway. His eyes were smug, with a trace of a smile.

"This is so marvelous! Is there any pain when you move them?"

No.

"Is it very difficult?"

Yes.

"I can imagine. After nearly a month of bed rest, you're going to have some lazy muscles. Have they scheduled you for any physio?"

He just stared at her blankly.

"Exercises, to help get your muscles back in shape."

Understanding lit, and he blinked, 'No.'

"Well, all in good time. I warn you, you'll hate it. All the other patients do. Cho Chang is trying to rebuild the muscles in her hands and swears her first use for them will be to strangle Healer Flark."

He raised his eyebrow, and she laughed. "I know, you're already plotting to strangle me. Now, is there anything you need before I get jiggy with the bedpans?"

No.

"All right. I'll start this. I'm going with fifteen minutes before it turns a page. You'll need to read slow to understand him. It will use your entire brain. I'll come back on my lunch break and see if you hate it."

He gave her an eye hug, and she patted his feet before flipping the end of the blanket down over them. "I must say, Professor, you have the nicest feet I've ever seen on a fellow."

She looked back over her shoulder to see his eyebrows had climbed halfway up his forehead and his cheeks were slowly turning red. She laughed as she headed out the door of his room.

:

"Did you hear Lucius Malfoy was admitted?"

Hermione shoveled her lunch into her mouth and shook her head at Lavender.

"Yesterday afternoon."

"What's wrong with him?" Hermione asked after she'd finished swallowing.

"I don't know. I saw Draco and his mother pacing in the hallway. I don't think they're letting them in to see him."

Hermione stirred her noodles. "I don't know what to say," she whispered.

Lavender nodded, vigorously. "I know! Part of me still thinks of them as Death Eaters, but they turned at the end, didn't they? At least Mrs. Malfoy helped Harry. I want to say, 'Gosh I hope he's all right,' but it sticks in my throat."

Hermione nodded her head. "Exactly."

Lavender jabbed her fork at Hermione's plate.

"You'd better get moving, or you're going to miss your date with Snape."

She scowled at Lavender who laughed and threw her hands up. "Joke! But I do think it's odd that, of all the people in the hospital, he requested you."

"He did?"

"Didn't you read the notice at the Nurses' station? None of us are allowed in his room. He'll only allow you or the house-elves. Pye's orders."

Hermione smiled with her cheeks full of noodles. She lifted a hand and held it in front of her mouth. "I knew I was growing on him." She swallowed. "I think I have discovered my new powers. Chatting people into submission."

The two of them laughed as Hermione stood and picked up her plate. "Off to the trenches," she said. She shoveled noodles into her mouth all the way over to the bin, before scraping it in and dashing out of the canteen.

She was still chewing when she pushed open his door, three floors up.

He looked agitated. Fluttering his fingers under the blanket.

"Are you all right?"

Yes.

"Do you like the book?"

Yes.

"Excellent! He's one of my favorite authors!"

He rolled his eyes, and she started to suspect what his issue was. "Would you like me to make the gizmo turn the pages faster?"

He slammed his eyes shut and snapped them open in the blink version of a shout.

She laughed. "Sorry about that. I thought it would take you a minute to adjust to the writing style."

She pulled the book out, and set it to the next ten pages, before twisting a knob on the gizmo and tapping it with her wand. "There. Did you need anything?"

He blinked 'No,' already starting to read.

"I'll be back later."

Hermione sat on the side of her bed as Ron slipped into the room and made his way directly to Ginny's bed. He never even looked at her. She watched him pull his shirt off over his head and drop in on the floor next to his shirt from last night.

"Are we even going to talk about this?" she asked in a quiet voice.

He frowned. "I dunno what to say," he replied.

"Maybe you could tell me if I'm still your girl?"

He sagged down onto Ginny's bed.

"Well, we kind of rushed into it, didn't we? I mean, with everything that's been going on, the timing wasn't that great, was it?"

She watched him fidget as a weight pressed down on her heart.

"So you don't love me?" she asked.

He slumped. "I do. I do love you, Hermione. It's just that... I can't handle it right now, you know?"

She released him from the discomfort of having to talk, by rolling under the blankets. He sighed with obvious relief and blew out the candle.

Hermione buried her face into her pillow so she didn't disturb his sleep while she cried.

"Good morning, Professor. Did you sleep well last night?"

Yes.

"Any complaints?"

No.

"Any new developments?"

He gave her an amused look, and his right arm bent slightly under the sheet. She smiled and glanced at his feet, and he twisted his ankles from side to side.

She reached down and clasped his hand through the covers. "This is so exciting! I'm really happy for you."

He closed his hand around hers, his grip as weak as a kitten's.

"I think I will fall into a funk when you walk out that door. I shall miss you terribly, and I'm pretty sure you're not the type to come back and volunteer, like Lavender."

He pressed her hand and then slid his eyes to the gizmo over the bed.

"Right. Enough of that silliness, eh? Would you like to start with a book or the paper?"

After he had regained movement of his fingertips, they had added to his vocabulary. A twitch of his right hand meant option one, left meant the second. He chose the second.

"Right, the Daily Skeeter it is." She threaded the newspaper into the spindle and attached it to the hooks suspended from the ceiling.

She was about to start the timer when the door to his room opened and Healer Pye walked in. She snatched the newspaper from the ceiling.

"Oh, good. Miss Granger. You can help. Mr. Snape is about to lose his feeding tube." He smiled and looked at the professor. "This shouldn't hurt a bit, since you've no feeling in your neck at the moment. This afternoon, we'll start you on double the amount of Nerve Regenerating Potion and by evening, we'll have you on liquids."

Pye leaned down and started pulling the tape away from Snape's mouth, revealing dry, cracked lips. "Take that pillow away and tilt his head back for me, will you?"

Hermione carefully pulled one of his pillows out, sliding her arm behind his neck for support before tilting his head back. His bare skin was curiously soft.

He gave her an indignant look, and she wrinkled her nose in apology.

Pye made short work of disconnecting the tube and pushing the nutrient bag out of the way. He grasped the tube and started to pull. Snape's eyes slammed shut and his right leg thrashed on the bed.

"I would say he can feel it," Hermione snapped, belatedly adding, "sir."

"That's unusual. He shouldn't. I'm trying to make this quick, but it seems the muscles have spasmed."

Snape's eyes flew open, and he stared at Pye with no small amount of disgust.

Hermione slipped her hand under the sheet and held Snape's. His fingers wrapped around hers, but he didn't look at her.

Pye pulled again, and Snape thrashed, squeezing her hand with a lot more strength than he'd shown so far. She squeezed it back and stroked his shoulder, while cradling his head on her arm. When the tube came out, Snape's grip on her hand didn't slacken, and his eyes were closed tight. They looked pinched with pain, and his chest was heaving as he sucked in great breaths through his nose.

Hermione counted to ten before she trusted herself to open her mouth. "You said the nerves were deadened."

"They were," Pye said, running through a series of Diagnostic Charms. "But they've healed themselves." He shook his head. "Strange. It has to be that damned venom. It shouldn't be acting this way. I'm going to order up a new series of tests for this afternoon. We need to understand what's going on. First it wouldn't let him heal, and now it's healing what it shouldn't."

He straightened up. "Well, we got you off that tube, and the adrenalin seems to have been good for your legs. That's two good things. And having your nerves back isn't a bad thing, just uncomfortable for a while." He inspected the drain in Snape's neck. "If we can get the last of the poison out, you should make a fairly miraculous recovery. You might even recover your voice after all."

He picked up Snape's chart and started writing. "I want you to start him sipping water; we need to get him swallowing again, and it might soothe the pain. I'll be back with a Pain Potion. Hopefully his immunity is at an end."

She nodded her head, not trusting herself to speak, as Pye left the room.

Snape was still clutching her hand, and she leaned down closer, pressing his head to her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

He jerked his arm...more of a spasm, than a movement...and brought her hand to his chest. She felt the dampness that had wicked along the sheet and turned to see the he'd pissed himself. That had been no ordinary pain.

"Was it the Crucio sensation?" she asked, backing away so she could see his eyes.

He opened his eyes and blinked once, closing them again in misery.

She leaned her head down and kissed the top of his head, a gesture she didn't think of as strange until much later, and then carefully tucked his pillow back behind his head.

"Do you want me to call a house-elf? Or would you like me to go ahead and clean you up?"

She watched his hands for a long moment before the fingers on his left hand fluttered.

She pulled back and dug deep for her sense of professionalism. Grabbing up the ceramic bowl from the table next to him, she filled it with water and zapped it with a Warming Charm. She went and pulled a flannel and new sheets from the cupboard next to the bathroom before levitating him a foot off the bed.

He huffed a breath.

"Moving hurt your neck again?"

He fluttered his right hand, rather than open his eyes.

She banished the top sheet to the laundry and set about gently scrubbing him down. She kept her mind focused, noting his long, lean body and the thickness of the black hair around his sex with the same clinical detachment that she viewed his Dark Mark. She dried him swiftly with a soft towel and then snapped a new sheet over him for his pride. She made short work of washing his hair and drying it...it was nearly as long as it had been originally now...and then changed out his pillowcases and switched out the bottom sheet on the bed.

She gently lowered him back to the bed. The entire process took ten minutes.

He never opened his eyes.

He was still breathing heavily, his eyes pinched with pain, and his hands were now clenched into fists.

"Is it any better? Or the same?"

The same.

"Is it like the rippling pain after the Crucio stops? Or is it the agony of when you're hit with it?"

His eyes flew open, and he gave her a shocked, questioning look.

She flushed and looked down. "Bellatrix Lestrange," she said. "After we were caught. I spent an evening writhing in the Malfoys' carpet."

His eyes filled with an amazing array of emotions, regret, empathy, concern, and a profound sadness.

"It's over. We won," she said without much enthusiasm. "We all just need to figure out how to deal with the aftermath, don't we?" She felt a wave of emotion threatening to break her and pushed it away. "Now answer my question."

He moved his right hand, and then jerked his whole arm closer to her. She reached down and took his hand again, and he squeezed.

"Just get better for me, okay?"

He gave her a sad look and closed his eyes.

"Hello, Hermione, dear. It's good to see you finally home."

"Hello, Molly. I'm sorry I missed dinner."

"There's a plate for you if you're hungry."

"Thank you, I'm famished."

Molly swiped her hands on her apron and heated the roast with a flick of her wand before setting in on the table. "I'll leave you to enjoy. I'm going to go check on George before I head to bed."

"Good night," Hermione said as Molly left the room.

Ron stood in the kitchen doorway. They didn't speak until she had finished her food. He sat down heavily in the chair next to her and pushed the salt and pepper around between his hands.

"Hermione, it's ten o'clock at night. I'm supposed to believe you've been changing bedpans all this time? Tell me the truth. Are you seeing someone else?"

"What?" She dropped her fork to the plate and stared at him. "Are you serious?" Pushing herself up from the table with effort, she took her plate over to the kitchen sink. "Ron. You can't keep me running in circles like this. You tell me to go work for the hospital, and then you get upset that I'm working at the hospital. You tell me you can't handle being in a relationship, and then start acting like a jealous git. No. There isn't anyone else, unless you count Professor Snape, who's actually more enjoyable to be around than you are currently."

She dried her plate with a flick of her wand and sent it up into the cupboard, along with the rest of them from dinner.

"You misunderstand," he snapped back, rising from the table. "I was going to be happy for you if there was. Now I just pity anyone who would."

He turned his back on her and stomped out of the kitchen, leaving her staring after him dumbstruck.

That night, she cried herself to sleep on the Weasleys' sofa.