Understanding

Chapter 5: Understanding

It was six in the morning when Hermione stepped out of the fireplace at the Burrow and brushed soot out of her hair. She looked up to see Harry, Ginny and George sitting at the table drinking tea.

"Wow, Hermione, you look terrible," George said.

She let out a forlorn chuckle. "I bet I do."

Harry poured her a cup of tea and brought it to her. "Are you all right?"

Hermione's lip wobbled, and she bit it to keep it still, shaking her head. She took a sip of the tea and sighed heavily.

"What happened?" Ginny asked. "Mum got your message, but we were still worried. Did you even get any sleep?"

"No. I was at the hospital all night and had to meet with several Healers this morning. We just figured out that the Dark Mark is killing Snape, along with Draco and Lucius Malfoy. He says there's no way to stop it. He's dying. Mrs. Malfoy died last night."

"Oh, god," Harry whispered, sitting down hard in the closest chair. "I didn't know she had a Dark Mark."

"She didn't. They don't know how she died. The Aurors came. They think it could have been murder, but they're not sure. I wasn't privy to the details."

The sound of footsteps made her look up. She took another sip of tea and set her cup down on the table just as Ron came over and gave her a hug.

"I'm sorry," he said.

For a wild minute, she thought he was apologizing for everything that had gone wrong between them. It occurred to her in that instant that she didn't want him to.

His next words dispelled the thought like smoke. "I know you and the git have become close. It's not fair."

She sagged against him and nodded her head against his shoulder. "Is there such a thing as fair?"

"No," said George. "Only balance. We mistake them for the same thing."

"Come," Ginny said. "Let me make you something to eat, and then you can catch some sleep."

She didn't sleep. Instead, she thanked Molly and Arthur for looking after her, made her peace with Ron, and packed her things. Ginny tried repeatedly to talk her out of it, and Harry wasn't happy that she was so secretive about where she was moving to. Ron made himself scarce.

She walked to the edge of their property and Apparated away. There were too many people in the kitchen for her to feel comfortable shouting Snape's address in front of them all. Even if it was Secret-Kept, she felt better using discretion.

She entered his sitting room and looked around. It was still bleak and derelict, but she felt as if an enormous weight had been pulled off her shoulders and the air of neglect was transmuted to one of comfort.

She walked upstairs and unpacked a few of her things, her toiletries and work clothes, before she stripped and crawled under the covers. She pressed her face into his pillows, enchanted by the smell, and curled up on her side.

She slept like the dead in Professor Snape's enormous, decadent bed.

"What can I do for you, Hermione?"

"I was wondering if there were any paying positions open at the hospital. I've had a bit of a change as far as my circumstances, and I'm going to need to find a job. I like it here and would prefer to continue on if it was possible."

Healer Gayle sat back in her chair, patting at the back of her head before smoothing her braids. "Well, I can't pay you to be a volunteer, you know that. I'd have to start paying the other volunteers as well, and we're already running out of work for all of you.

"I could look into the apprenticeship program. You could begin studying to be a Healer yourself. From what I hear, there are several people that would be happy to take you on, but that doesn't pay either. Not until you become a resident.

"If you need immediate income, then I would say administrative assistant. How are your organizational skills?"

Hermione smiled like a shark.

Hermione walked into Snape's room to find him sitting up in bed with his knees bent.

They both stared at each other. His eyes scanned her jeans and cardigan and lingered with an amused expression on her hair. She'd worn it up since starting the job. Today it was in its preferred state of epic chaos.

She took in his attire...white shirt, improperly buttoned, and black trousers...with the same sense of strangeness. It was as if the clothes changed the dynamic.

However, not in an expected way.

His hair was working its way past his shoulders now, and the sight of his bare feet added a frisson that had never been there before. Snape naked and helpless under a sheet wasn't quite the same as Snape casually sitting partially undressed on a bed. Not since she'd spent the night holding him, and most of the day breathing in his scent while she slept in his bed.

She shoved her inappropriate thoughts to the side and walked over and picked up his chart. "I see they've cut down on the antivenin. That should buy you a little time. You're making remarkable progress for a man who's dying."

He snorted.

She reached for his left hand, and he lifted it, twisting it so she could see the blackened skin hadn't spread any farther down his hand. "Can you move your neck at all?"

"No," he mouthed.

"I wonder if Pye severed the wrong damned nerves."

Snape snorted again.

She put the chart back as he gave her a questioning glance.

"I've been hired as an administrative assistant here. I'm off until I start Monday. I've decided to haunt you until then," she answered.

He gave her a warm smile that turned to a scowl as she sat down on the side of his bed and started to fix the buttons on his shirt. The tube on his neck drained into a small vial that was now spell-o-taped to his chest, so she only buttoned it three-quarters of the way up.

"Would you like me to find you some shirts without buttons?" she asked.

He frowned and blinked twice.

"Stubborn," she retorted. "Your fondness for buttons is a problem if you can't look down to see them."

She finished fixing his shirt and dropped her hands into her lap. "I moved into your place this morning." When he raised an eyebrow, she explained. "I found I just couldn't put it off. Once you offered refuge, it became a compulsion. So that's two things off my list. Find a new place to live and find a job."

She looked him in the eyes. "Thank you, Severus. I can't tell you how much freer I feel. I didn't realize how heavy everything was until it was gone."

She shook her head sadly when he gave her an eyehug. "Of course, everything would be a bit peachier if you weren't dying. So I've decided to see what I can do about that as well. I figured between the two of us, we've improved our quality of life at least a thousand percent, and we should plow ahead while we're on a roll."

Snape scowled and reached for his clipboard of parchment. He pulled a sheet off and handed it to her.

She read it aloud. "'I, Hermione Granger, solemnly swear not to seek out, research, or attempt in any way, a means to save...' " She threw it down on the bed. "Fuck you, Snape. Do you really think I'm going to sign that? You're a goddamned hero. You're my hero. You handed me the answer to all my tiny little problems on a platter just yesterday, and you expect me to just sit back and watch you waste away without trying to help?"

He handed her another piece of parchment.

"'You'll get my house, my library, my patents, and the hundred and thirty-seven thousand Galleons in my Gringotts account if you let me die. If you disobey my wishes, you'll get nothing.' Seriously, Severus? This is the best you can do?" She threw that one down as well. "How delirious were you when this struck you as a good idea? When the hell did bribing a Gryffindor ever work? And thanks for the notice, if you're going to reach out from the grave and have me evicted, I'm taking that mattress before you drop. Trust me on that. I'm in love with your mattress. I think it has already become the most important thing in my life."

He snorted again.

"Laugh all you want; you didn't spend last winter living in a bloody tent."

He reached down and picked up another slip of parchment, handing it to her with a serious expression. It only had two words on it. 'Hermione, please.'

She teared up and swallowed with difficulty. "Okay, that one was well-played." She folded it and tucked it in her pocket. "Give me a reason I can accept, Severus. You've become very important to me in a very, very short amount of time. I don't think I am really all that stable, mentally, and I'm a lot more fragile than even I would have thought. Watching you die is going to hurt me more than making my parents forget I exist. You have to give me a good reason."

He sighed and reached for one more slip of paper.

She read it in silence. 'If you try to save me, you will die. Without years of training in the Dark Arts, even the research needed will damage you in ways you cannot understand. What you don't know will kill you. You have no hope of success. Accept my fate. You have found a way to let me die with dignity. I am in your debt.'

She dropped her hands into her lap, crumpling the note. "But I don't want you to die, Severus." Her voice sounded small and pathetic to her ears.

He gestured, and she leaned in close. "Everyone dies, Granger," he whispered in her ear. "Not everyone is given the honor of being missed."

His words were like a knife in her heart. She nodded and then laid her forehead on his shoulder and cried. He put his arm around her and leaned back, and they ended up as they had been when the sun had come up that morning, wrapped around each other for comfort.

The wall between them crumbled, as the mortar sifted away, and the blocks tumbled into insignificance.

It was a strange thing when looking at it objectively. Only a handful of months ago the idea of lying in bed with Professor Snape would have been ludicrous, but then, so was the idea of beating Voldemort. Now, crying in her former teacher's arms was as natural as breathing.

The two of them had been through so much; life had become so twisted and warped, before and after their victory. They had established an understanding and a bond that transcended logic or common sense. The foundation had been laid down without words to get in the way. Weeks of being restricted to yes and no had turned into a conversation held on so many other levels. They'd been forced to see beyond the surface, and to listen beyond the words.

It was as if only he understood...and only she could comfort. His inability to push her away when she'd first trespassed into his private hell had set the tone. His humiliation had turned into a gratitude he couldn't have expressed if he'd had his voice. She knew he took great comfort in the fact that he would be missed. She knew it without his words, just as she knew he understood that she wasn't what everyone assumed she was. She was less. She wasn't as strong, she wasn't as brave, and she wasn't even remotely as self-assured as everyone had thought. She'd just done what she'd had to do because there was no choice.

The one person that she had always felt had misjudged her the most, was now the only one that let her simply be what she was.

It had been such a short amount of time for two people to come to be so dependent on each other.

And there was only a short time left.

She stayed for hours, reading to him, sharing stories about the hunt for the Horcruxes with him, and saying nothing at all, simply holding his hand.

"Hi, Lavender. I'm glad I caught you."

"Hermione! Where were you today?"

"I took a personal day. I was up all night with Professor Snape. Are you done for the day?"

"Yeah, I was just heading out."

"I'll walk with you."

Lavender dropped her armful of sheets down the chute to the laundry room and grabbed her handbag out of her locker. "So what's up?" she asked as they headed for the stairs.

"Well, a few things actually. I moved out of the Burrow this morning."

Lavender winced and gave her a one-armed hug. "I'm sorry. I know you had wanted to make it work with Ron."

Hermione sighed. "Actually, I feel a lot better."

"Ouch."

Hermione gave a tired chuckle. "Seriously. What does that say about me?"

"That you're human?"

"There was more to it than that though. I feel like I've broken the Golden Trio for good. They're all hurting so much..."

Lavender tugged on Hermione's sleeve and pulled her to a stop. "Hermione, everyone is hurting. The Wizarding world is a small place. You can't have a war without someone you care for being killed or maimed or lost in some way. I went on with life. Michael went on with life. Even Cho. Did you hear she was released today? She was. She'll be back for therapy, but that's beside the point. As low as she was, she's moving past it. You need to move on, too. You, and Ron and Harry have been in the thick of it since first-year. If you wallow in it, it will crush you. Ron will find his way, or he won't, but you're doing no one any favors by needlessly suffering. Your moving out is the best thing in the long run."

Hermione looked down and shook her head. "When did you get so wise?" she asked with a small laugh.

"Probably five seconds after I was caught in that Blasting Hex. If I was wise before, I'd have run away from the Death Eaters and not towards them."

Hermione laughed, and the two of them headed out onto the street. "Well, that's the burden of being a Gryffindor. When push comes to shove, we leave logic to Ravenclaws."

"Too right. So what was your other news?"

"I was hired in the Personnel department. I'll be assisting with employee schedules starting on Monday."

"Oh, that's great! I got a job too! Although not at the hospital. I'm going to be working at Madam Malkin's. She's even said if I learn well, she'll allow me to showcase my designs!"

"Lavender, that's fantastic!"

"I know, right? I'll still do volunteer work two days a week. I owe this place. Healer Gayle said that they could still use a few of us for a couple more months."

"Hey, since you're the fashion designer, perhaps you could help me shop for a new wardrobe for work. Everything I own still screams 'on the run,' and I want to look more professional."

"Absolutely! When?"

"Tomorrow?"

"That would work, or if you're not busy now, we could do a little shopping and grab a bite?"

"You know what? That sounds like a great idea."

"Wonderful! Let's g...Hey, isn't that Draco? I thought he was at death's door..."

Hermione turned around in time to see Draco let go of the front door and head down the stairs toward the alley. He looked pale and shaken and his eyes were filled with grief. She took two steps toward him, but Lavender caught her arm.

"I don't want to sound like a bitch, but you and he don't have a good relationship to start with, Granger. Let me go. I'll owl you later about when we can meet up tomorrow."

"You're right. I'm being ghoulish. I just wanted to ask him questions. Go. Let him know I'm sorry for his loss."

Lavender squeezed her arm and hurried after Draco.

Hermione watched them talking quietly until they went around the corner to Apparate; then she spun on her heel and raced back inside St. Mungo's.

:

When she pushed the door open, Snape was sitting up in bed with his arms wrapped around his knees and his chin wedged between them. Her heart tripped when she saw the look of hope on his face quickly change to something akin to joy and then to his usual bland indifference.

She walked over to the bed, trying to keep her composure. "I just saw Draco," she said.

He winced and looked back down at his feet.

"He was walking out the front door."

Snape's eyes widened, and he slanted a look up at her. She sat down on the end of the bed so he wouldn't have to strain his eyes.

"Severus, is Draco being cured linked to Narcissa Malfoy dying?"

His eyes watered before he closed them. She reached out and touched his wrist, and he let go of his leg and clasped her hand. His grip was stronger now. He was healing so quickly. So illogically. It was hard to accept that he was dying.

He tugged and she slid closer, resting her own chin on one of his boney knees, her ear by his mouth.

"Yes," he said in his ghost whisper.

"What killed her?"

"She did."

"Did she willingly die to save him?"

"Yes."

"Is that what it would take? Someone willing to take your place?"

"Exactly."

Hermione sighed and wrapped her arms around him. "That's evil."

He chuffed out a breath and dragged up his left sleeve, head still resting on his knees. "That's what this always was, Granger."

She pulled back and reached down, feeling his warm skin, soft, with a prickle of fine hair. The mark hadn't changed since she'd first seen it spread. His long, pale fingers stood in stark contrast to the blackened palm. It didn't feel like anything but an arm, but her hand wanted to recoil from the roiling blackness underneath. She felt a strong urge to wipe her hand as if it was now tainted.

She kept it there, holding his wrist firmly. "Can you feel it?"

"Of course. Every day for twenty-two years."

"Oh, gods, Severus. I'm so sorry."

He looked up through his lashes with his sad eyes. "So am I. I have been for each of those twenty-two years."

Hermione nodded, accepting his pain and remorse, and his inevitable fate. The look they shared spoke more than they could ever put into words. The regrets, the sadness, the irony of finding a true friend just before all was to be lost...

He pulled his arm out from under her hand. "You should go," he whispered. "I'm tired."

She pushed off the bed and hovered, as he dropped backward. His head hit the pillows awkwardly. She reached down and lifted it, smoothing his hair out of his face and shifting his head into a more comfortable position.

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Sleep, Severus. I'll see you again tomorrow. We still have a handful of tomorrows."

He captured her hand and brought it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles, then he closed his eyes and flicked his hand at the door.

Hermione sat in his chair in the sitting room compulsively rubbing her hand on her thigh. She had to force herself to stay in the room. Her logical mind knew she was being ridiculous, but her tired, overwrought imagination told her that the books around her knew she had touched the Dark Magic in his arm. She was sure there was some sleeping beast contained in all the books and that it was stirring. It knew she was there.

A folio slipped off a shelf behind her, parchment notes fluttering to the floor. Hermione hurtled out of the chair like a shot, the bookcase door to the stairs banging shut behind her before the last paper settled to the dusty carpet.

Upstairs, she sat in the middle of the bed with her hands wrapped around her knees, castigating herself for her childishness as she trembled from the adrenaline rush.