Disclaimer: purely for your entertainment. Warning: character death, SS/HG.
Blinded and in a Briar Patch
By Elena George
Chapter 1- Bellatrix's New HexA slicing hex slammed into Snape's back, just to the left of the middle of his back at the same time a different curse landed squarely in his chest. His whole body glowed an ominous shade of orange then purple. He felt the excruciating pain digging into his shoulders just before everything went dark. Bile and blood edged its way out of his mouth. Harry saw him collapse in slow motion; knees to the ground, then face to the damp grass of the morning. Harry had not dealt the blow; he was fairly sure who had cast the curses; he had only heard a faint grunt, as Snape was not one to admit pain loudly. However, Harry did watch blood pouring through Snape's coat, pooling onto the ground nearby.
He was torn as to what he should do – save his second-most hated nemesis or let him die. Death would be a fitting reward for his part in the death of the Headmaster, at least in Harry's mind. Still, Snape had proven himself to be an ally of the Order in most every other way. McGonagall found the Headmaster's pensieve that cleared Snape of murder. Snape had continued to pass word back to the Order via an odd assortment of methods, not the least of whom were Harry's friends Hermione Granger and Remus Lupin. Once he had even used Dobby to deliver key information about the horcrux that the Malfoys held. Harry had found that monumentally ironic since Dobby had once belonged to Malfoy and was now the conduit of his ultimate indictment.
Harry also had to consider in the briefest of moments what he had promised Hermione. He had promised her that he would not kill Snape, albeit he very much wanted to kill him in the most painful of ways. He remembered what she said:
"If you give in and kill Snape, you will be no better than Voldemort. That is exactly what Voldemort would do. You are better than that. Professor Dumbledore knew that you love in spite of it all. Love forgives. Remember Professor Dumbledore and honour his memory!"
Thus it was that Harry made his way to Snape's bleeding form. He cast the same spell that he'd heard Snape use on Draco Malfoy when he, Harry, had slashed Malfoy with the Half-Blood Prince's sectumsempra curse. The bleeding stopped immediately, but Harry was unsure what other damage had been done since Snape had not moved a muscle, save those necessary to breathe. Harry shook him with no effect, so he left him there for the medics to collect when the battle was over. Harry then moved back into the thick of things.
An hour later, the battle continued to rage from the castle to the edges of the Forbidden Forest to the Lake's shoreline. Neither side had claimed an advantage, let alone the victory. Slowly, Snape began to come back around. Hexes, curses, and jinxes flew over his ever-so-groggy head as he tried to figure out where he was and what was going on around him. It came to him through the cotton wool that was his mind; he was in the "final" battle to save the Wizarding world.
Snape still felt the deep pain between his shoulders, which together with the blood lost earlier when the wound was in free-flow, sapped his strength and ability to think clearly. It had been a mixed curse: sectumsempra plus a heavy-duty stunner and who knows what else Bellatrix hit him with. He was still feeling the effects of the stunner and could scarcely breathe; add to that his eyes were completely out of focus. His slashed back muscles, while no longer bleeding profusely, were nevertheless deeply injured. There was no blood-restoring potion to negate the effects of the earlier loss. Stuffing his wand in his sleeve, Snape rolled toward the forest's edge and crawled the rest of the way into the closest thicket for cover. The briars added to his overall discomfort, but not enough to make him move beyond the thicket. Again, he lost consciousness.
Hours later, Snape began to come back around to semi-conscious. He found himself in a thicket of briars at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He took a quick mental inventory of his injuries. His back felt like it was being crushed and shredded by a hippogriff. His head ached even more than that. His hands would be useless for brewing for some time, so torn by the briars were they. He was sure that his eyes were full of sand and his ears stuffed with cotton. Gently, he shook some of the lethargy away and listened carefully. His squinting did nothing for his eyes, frustrating him to no end.
When Snape had crawled under the brush, the battle was still undecided. He certainly had no desire to pop back up and be hit by all manner of curses by the Dark Lord or his Death Eaters for treachery. Clearly, he had been fighting for Potter and his side. He also needed to get to the Headmaster and revive him. He was the only one who knew the potion and spells to bring him back from the "suspended animation" of the Draught of the Living Death. He had also hope that the extended period of rest had begun to reverse the effects of the ring horcrux destruction and not rendered him dead after all this time.
He could hear the cries of the wounded but little else. Furthermore, Snape felt something heavy lying on top of him. No hippogriff, it was a person; he could hear its breathing, so whoever it was, was alive for the time being. This person's falling in upon him had driven the briars deeply into the flesh of his already abused back. Though he could barely see what he was doing, he did manage to slip out from under the weight of this other person.
He heard it moaning; it was female by the sound of it. His head caught another 3-inch briar making him hiss. He continued to move around under the cover of the thicket trying to figure out who had unceremoniously landed atop him. Was she friend or foe? He found her face and ran his hand across it. It was not gaunt like Bellatrix's. No, it had bushy hair – Granger! It had to be Granger! he thought.
Shaking the body, "Miss Granger, wake up," he whispered not sure if his side had won and not wishing either of them to be discovered.
He found a strong pulse at her throat. Finding her alive and likely to survive was a brief relief for Snape. Perhaps she could tell him what had happened while he was unconscious. That is if she ever awakened. He dragged her closer to himself, tucking her shoulder under his. He kept patting her face with his free hand, hoping to stimulate her to awaken. He was feeling exceptionally anxious for news since his eyes were growing progressively darker and darker. The growing blindness was unnerving. It was blindness, for it was not yet night! There were no night sounds as yet, and the warmth of the late afternoon penetrated even the dense undergrowth into which he had cast himself.
She gurgled a bit and began to come around.
"Sh!" he cautioned with a soft whisper. "I cannot see and don't know if the battle is over or not. We are hidden in a thicket at the Forest's edge."
Her head lolled around on his shoulder and chest, moaning softly.
"Harry, watch out," she mumbled. "Behind you…" her voice faded as she jerked. "Nooo, I'm hit…" she jerked again and was silent.
"Sh. Sh. Sh," Snape whispered into her ear and tried to muffle her cries with his hand. "Not so loud, Miss Granger."
Her wand did not seem to be in her hand, so Snape called for it nonverbally, "Accio Granger's wand."
Snape felt around behind him for a way into the Forest, gathered up her wand, and pulled them together backward. He would listen a while then feel his way out of the thicket into the Forest. The briars ripped into his exposed back again and again. Once he had extricated them out of the thicket, he stood and lifted her into his arms. With a hushed pop, he apparated them to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade.
He bumped into walls and nearly stumbled over rubbish on the floor as he edged his way to the bed where the children had blasted him years ago. Carefully, he laid her down and then collapsed on the other side, face down next to her. His head was still reeling, his back was a bloody and thorn-inflicted mess, and his eyes were now entirely blinded. At least his hearing was back to more or less normal.
Dusk had been approaching when he'd first come to and had some vision. Night sounds had begun to dominate his hearing as well. He knew it had to be after dark by now, so sleep did not seem out of the question nor completely a bad idea. Maybe when he awakened the next morning, things would be different or perhaps she would be fully awake.