For nineteen years, his scar hadn't burned. Everything was fine.
"Harry?"
Hermione gave his shoulder a gentle nudge, pulling him out of sleep.
"Did I doze off? The dream was so nice… I don't think I wanted to wake up," Harry murmured, still gathering his bearings. He was sitting in the armchair of the Gryffindor common room. After telling Hermione and Ron everything Snape had left him in those memories—and about his meeting with Dumbledore—exhaustion had finally claimed him. His friends had let him have his nap without protest.
"I want to see Ginny," he said.
On their way to the Great Hall, they were met by a rush of frantic people. Hermione spotted Professor McGonagall sweeping down the corridor, her robes billowing behind her.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked.
"They've brought all the injured from the library here—the building's on the verge of collapse. There must've been a fierce fight; dozens were hurt," McGonagall explained quickly before hurrying on.
When the trio stepped into the Great Hall, Hermione saw Madam Pomfrey already working at full speed to tend to the wounded. Healers from St. Mungo's had come to assist; without them, many would not have survived. Over fifty bodies had also been taken from around the castle.
The hall looked like a field hospital. The sharp, metallic scent of blood hung in the air.
"Please, move aside—we need to get through! Can't you wait outside?" one of the healers snapped from the side.
"Harry, there you are!" Ginny's voice cut through the noise. She rushed over and threw her arms around him.
"Come with me. I need to show you something."
Hermione watched as Ginny pulled Harry away toward the far end of the hall.
"Ron, help me get Hannah Abbott to the hospital wing—she's not badly hurt. Hermione, see if you can handle these two boys' broken bones. We need every hand we can get," Pomfrey instructed, pointing them to their tasks.
It felt to Hermione like stepping into an operating theatre. She worked quickly, and within minutes, a few spells had mended the worst of the injuries.
Two bodies were carried past her then—both draped in Slytherin robes. In the end, it didn't matter what House they had been from; they had all fought against Voldemort. Her mind flashed with faces she had lost along the way—Mad-Eye, Fred, Tonks, Lupin. Tears welled up. She had liked Lupin immensely; he had always been patient, always knew the right thing to say. She had felt safe in his classroom. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and onto her neck. She couldn't take another second of it.
Her legs began moving before she could think, carrying her out of the hall. The tears blurred her vision, but it didn't matter where she went—she just needed to hide, to bury herself in the darkest corners of Hogwarts. She ran down staircases, deeper and deeper into the dim corridors. She remembered the secret passage that led to the Shrieking Shack. No one would bother her there.
Breathing hard, she stopped suddenly. The door to the Shack's passageway stood before her. She had forgotten that this was the place where Voldemort had executed Snape. A chill raced down her spine. Her feet refused to stop; her hands pushed open the heavy metal door before she even realized what she was doing. She didn't want to go in—Merlin, she didn't want to see another dead body. She had seen enough death for one lifetime. And yet, she stepped through.
For a heartbeat, she hoped Snape had already been taken away. But then she saw him—motionless, lying exactly where he had given Harry his memories.
Something drew her closer. She knelt beside him. His skin was pale as ever, a dark pool of blood curling around his head. If not for that, he could have been mistaken for someone sleeping peacefully. Such a senseless death, she thought. He had given his entire life to bringing Voldemort down, only to be torn away at the very end. Her tears dripped onto his black robes. She had always valued him as a teacher—perhaps the best she had ever had—and certainly the only one who had truly challenged her.
She would never forget his last words, urging Harry to look at him one final time before he left the world. Searching for Lily Potter's eyes.
Maybe she had always known that beneath his cold, unyielding shell, there had been life—and love. Maybe that was why she had never been able to hate him like the others. She wished him peace, wherever he was now.
She was about to stand when she noticed a small vial, no bigger than a finger, lying next to his head. Had he managed to drink a potion here on the floor? She glanced at his fixed black eyes and felt an urge to close them. Slowly, she placed her hand over them. His skin was cool, but not icy. She shut his eyelids—then froze. Had his left eyelid just twitched?
Before she could second-guess herself, she pressed her fingers to his neck. Her own pulse doubled when she felt the faintest beat beneath her touch. By Merlin—he was alive.
"Professor Snape, can you hear me?"
Hermione transfigured the small vial into a pillow and slid it gently beneath his head. Every movement risked worsening the wound at his neck.
She pulled off his blood-soaked robe; the smell of dried blood hit her and made her stomach turn. With a flick of her wand, she sent the robe flying into the far corner. His vest, as always, was buttoned to the collar. She undid the top buttons carefully to expose the wound—only to feel a small bulge in his breast pocket.
Reaching inside, she found another vial, filled with a yellow liquid. It looked just like the one she had seen on the floor. She turned it over and saw a label in Snape's handwriting: Antidote – Nagini.
Quickly, she returned the pillow to its original form—the first vial—and read its label: Blood-Replenishing Serum.
Had he managed to survive this long because he'd taken the serum? Was he trying to drink the antidote too, but collapsed before he could?
Snape's body jerked suddenly. There was no mistaking it now—he was alive. Hermione's mind spun between panic and hope. He seemed to be fighting something deep inside him. Had Nagini's bite left venom behind? She didn't know if what she was about to do was right, but she didn't have time to fetch help.
She uncorked the antidote with trembling fingers and let a few drops fall into his mouth. His body twitched again. She prayed the liquid would reach his system despite his unconsciousness. The droplets spread like mist across his tongue—and then his body went still.
Hermione hardly dared to breathe. Both of Snape's e
yelids twitched—then, slowly, he opened his eyes.
.
END OF CHAPTER
The story is over on Patreon:
https://www.patreon.com/c/caesar20/posts
You can't copy it from bio