Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, just the crazy idea for this story.

Epilogue? What epilogue? ;)

You could be my unintended choice to live my life extended

You could be the one I'll always love

You could be the one who listens to my deepest inquisitions

You could be the one I'll always love

I'll be there as soon as I can

But I'm busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before

Muse – Unintended

Chapter 1 - Apocalypse Please

"So much death... So much pain..." she whispered quietly, hunched in her chair next to the bed at the far end of the dark infirmary.

Severus Snape lay motionless, paler than ever, the only sign of life the weak but steady rise and fall of his chest.

For the last several months Hermione had been struggling to rebuild her life, to make sense of everything that had happened. Paradoxically, the only times she felt the darkness weaken its grip on her soul were spent there, by the bed of the man everyone had hated.

Yes, it had been busy – rebuilding the castle had employed teachers and students alike, but now that everything was back in order and the new school year had started, the girl had found the return of the usual routine unbearable. Everyone had fought, so many lives had been lost, yet Vector still gave them complicated equations, Binns droned on about goblin rebellions, and McGonagall combined her new role as a Headmistress with the Transfiguration classes, her search for a replacement proven unsuccessful. Harry and Ron had been fought over by the best Quiddich teams in England, Ireland and Scotland, and had eventually chosen to join Oliver at Puddlemere United. As a result she only saw them once or twice a month. Luna had also decided against taking her N.E.W.T.s in favour of helping her father run The Quibbler, as the shock of nearly losing his daughter had weakened him and he wasn't willing to part with her for longer than a few hours. Neville had joined the Ministry as an Auror, and Ginny was already up to her ears in studying, and between that, the Quiddich practice and the vigorous correspondence with Harry she hardly had time for anything else; besides, their friendship had never been as strong as the ties which bonded her with Harry and Ron. Ron, who was so obsessed with Quiddich that whenever they were together it was either enthusiastic snogging or extensive descriptions of the latest game, the current best broomstick model and the reverence with which he and Harry were constantly greeted by everyone. He constantly failed to notice the change in her, even though she often struggled to keep a happy face for him.

To the rest of the students she was Hermione Granger, part of the Golden Trio, saviour of the wizarding world and someone to admire from afar. With that and her constant black mood leaving her with no desire to participate in the students' casual chatter, there was no one close enough to talk to, no one to keep the constant nightmares at bay and Hermione usually found herself beside the former Potions Master's bed at night. It felt... oddly relieving, talking to him, even if he would probably never answer her. If she had his face before her eyes, the sad whispering of friends lost in the fight stopped and she no longer saw their blurred shapes, and even if his motionless figure was just as big a reminder of the war, it still felt better to see him than the paralysing visions.

He had been in a coma ever since he was bitten by Nagini in the Shrieking Shack. After Harry had taken his memories, Hermione had quickly Apparated with the Potions Master to St. Mungo's and left him in their care, returning to the battle immediately afterwards. Yes, at the time she had thought he was an enemy, but when he had whispered weakly to Harry to look at him, she had done so as well, and the agony in his eyes had made her grab him and side-Apparate his limp body to the hospital. No one, not even an enemy should be left like that – dying in a pool of his own blood, all alone.

Later, when Harry had shown her and Ron Snape's memories, she had felt immensely glad that she had followed her better nature. To say he had more than deserved it would have been a gross understatement, and the Wizardgamot had had the grace to fully acquit him after seeing those memories as well. But it seemed all efforts to save the man had been in vain, as he had never regained consciousness. With so many wounded St. Mungo's had tried to help, but after two weeks had given up on him in favour of the more hopeful cases, and he was transferred to Hogwarts and given a permanent bed at the far end of the infirmary. After all, the university had been his home for so long it seemed only fitting that they should provide for him. Madam Pomfrey had enrolled the teachers in research, hoping to find a way to wake him up, but they had little time left at the end of the day, and constant failure had taken its toll on their faith in the success of the endeavour. Not to mention that, even though everyone knew about his faithful contribution to the success of the fight against He-who-probably-would-not-remain-unnamed-for-much-longer, most people still found it hard to sincerely care about him. He hadn't endeared himself to anyone during the long years of undercover work, after all.

After seeing his memories, Hermione had felt compelled to go to his bed, first at St. Mungo's, then at Hogwarts, and speak to him. She didn't know if he could hear her but felt impelled to say 'Thank you,' to show him that someone cared and ask him to fight, to come back.

There was no logical reason for his current state – Nagini's venom had been successfully extracted from his blood, antivenin applied, along with copious amounts of Blood-Replenishing Potion and several strong restorative potions and charms, and as far as his physical condition was concerned, everything was functioning as it should. But still he would not wake up.

So Hermione kept coming back, kept talking to him, just as she was doing at that moment. Her soft voice was so quiet no one but him would have heard, had anyone else been around.

"I can't... I just can't forget their faces... They haunt me every time I close my eyes... The light gone forever out of their eyes..."

She fell silent for a while, giving the pain time to subside from sharp stabs to its usual permanent throb in her mind, and in her chest.

"How much it must have cost you... pretending to be one of them... But no one really cares now, do they? They're busy trying to forget, trying to pretend that all's normal, all's like before... You had the heaviest burden of all, and you carried it in silence... but no one cares..."

She almost smiled at the thought that had he been awake, she would have received the most acidic rebuff in her life... together with at least fifty points deduction from Gryffindor. And he most certainly would have hissed at her to keep her compassion for those who cared about it.

She found she missed that. It was painful to see him so still, so... unnaturally vulnerable. It was as if all vitality had gone out and what was left was only an empty shell lying on the bed. Suddenly she couldn't bear the cold, still silence.

"Harry owled today... asked about you as always... They're well, him and Ron – they're happy... Somehow it seems they've managed to forget the past... Am I really the only one who still wakes up at night screaming?"

She leaned back in her chair. Madam Pomfrey would scold her in the morning if she saw her asleep beside Snape's bed again, but she knew that after finding her there so many times the mediwitch only did it out of habit and half-heartedly. She had once overheard her telling Professor Sprout that she was worried about the girl, but it warmed her heart to see that someone cared for poor Severus.

Of course, she didn't know the whole truth, didn't know that the nightmares' horrible lucidity only lessened there, next to the motionless body of the man who had given his life for them in more than one sense. Hermione unconsciously felt he had given up, that after fulfilling his mission he had nothing to fight for, nothing to live for, and somewhere in-between the pain and the dark visions she found the energy to wish she could find a way to bring him back – and maybe he would know how to help her.

"You always protected Harry, even if you hated him for being James' son; Dumbledore was ready to sacrifice him, even though he loved him... Is nothing in this world what it seems to be?" The girl sighed and closed her eyes. After another long period of silence she leaned forward again.

"I can't stand the darkness, it's drowning me... The pain, their faces – Dumbledore, Fred, Tonks, Remus, Sirius, Mad-Eye, Dobby... My parents.. I didn't save them, I couldn't save them... I couldn't save them... How do you forget all that?"

She buried her head in the bed sheet, near his arm. The fabric soon got damp and crumpled, but the warmth she felt radiating from Snape's body seeped into her and somehow managed to dry her tears. On an impulse she reached out and took his big, warm hand in her small, cold one. A tiny sob escaped her lips – for him, for herself, for all those who were gone, and for those who had barely survived.

Would the scars in her soul ever heal?

For a brief second she thought she felt the slightest twitch in his fingers, but it was so infinitesimal that she managed to convince herself she had imagined it.

I am glad to say this story is actually finished, and I could be persuaded to post the chapters quicker if you let me know what you think about it. Love it or hate it, review and you'll be rewarded ;P