The Seven Year Sleep

The Seven-Year Sleep

Severus Snape wakes up in a hospital room, and finds that he is awake seven years into the future. He finds himself in an impossible situation- in other words, married. And to none other than the know-it-all beaver. Surely, this cannot be true.


Chapter One
Open your Pretty Eyes
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Light fluttered behind his eyelids, so bright that it seared his brain and made him utter a small cry. His head felt as if it were going to burst, and his neck felt odd, constricted and strangely damp. When he moved slightly, sharp pains ran down his throat and something gushed out. Severus Snape opened his eyes.

He was in a room, a large white room with bay windows allowing a light breeze, the cotton drapes blowing about slowly. The eyes of the Potions Master slid around the room warily, taking in the sights before him. He did not know where he was, but it seemed to him like a hospital ward. A private one. Still, it was a very nice hospital ward, without the ugly colored walls and cold dead feel of a normal hospital room. The walls were made of shining light wood, and the floors were covered with a bamboo-like tatami mat, and it was clean without being antiseptic.

Severus' fingers crept towards his neck, which felt very tender. He found that it was covered with a lot of white gauze, and beneath that there seemed to be some sticky sort of gel. Probably something healing, he reasoned. Then he closed his eyes again.

He had been sure that he had been killed. Voldemort was not the sort to make mistakes, at least when it came to killing. And the awful fangs of Nagini had sunk into his throat... Severus shuddered involuntarily at that memory. And that was when he felt the hand wrapped about his own, and saw the head of curly hair that was resting on the edge of the bed in which he was lying.

He started, causing the brown head to rise. The woman before him stared at his face for a second, and the sleepiness drained out of her face, to be replaced with tremulous happiness.

"You're awake," she murmured softly, the brown eyes shimmering and moist. She slipped her hand from his and clasped both of hers together joyfully. "The doctors thought... oh it doesn't matter what they thought. You're alive."

A tear slid down her cheek, and met the warm curve of her smile.

He replied snarkily, "It would seem as if I am. Though I do not know why this would be of joy to you, Miss. Granger."

A confused look crossed her features. "Why are you calling me that? What happened to Hermione?" she asked with a questioning look.

"Miss. Granger you are becoming tiresome. You have always been my student, and as such, I would never call you by your first name," Severus said, his brows furrowing. Was the little witch insane? Why had she been staring at him as though he were a lover?

"Severus...?" she said hesitantly, her hand inching towards his. He glared at her as if she were a first year who had blown up his finest cauldron, and Hermione immediately retreated.

"What has happened to you?" she whispered uncomprehendingly, sinking back into the small stool next to the bed, her eyes fixed to his. All the energy and joy that had filled her just moments ago had been drained from her.

"Well, besides almost getting killed by the Dark Lord and waking up to this extremely bizzarre scene, nothing I suppose," the Potions Master said in response. "Now could I please get a glass of water? My throat feels unbearably dry. After you have done with that, you may leave."

To his surprise, the brunette witch got up, her face so pale that it alarmed him.

"Miss Granger?" he queried.

She screamed.

Behind her, the door opened with a bang. "Mrs. Snape, is everything all right?" Mediwizard Blake Whittley said loudly. He watched wide-eyed as the small witch fainted dead away. He ran and caught her, his eyes meeting the dark haired wizard lying on the bed, looking thunderstruck.

"I guess Mrs. Snape was just so excited to see you awake, she couldn't control herself, eh?" the young wizard said jokingly to the Potions Master. "Don't you worry, she'll be quite all right."

"What did you call her?" Severus Snape asked softly, the lines around his mouth taut.

"Mrs. Snape, of course. She is your wife, after all." Blake Whittley said with a puzzled look, as he conjured a magical stretcher with his wand and laid the unconscious witch onto it.

Severus Snape proceeded to scowl at the wizard before him. "You are lying," he hissed, and despite the fact that he was lying on the bed, propped up on pillows, the mediwizard gulped at the terrifying sight.

Blake rifled a hand through his sandy brown curls, and said bravely, "Now, Mr. Snape, I'm sure you're a little confused at the moment, but a Calming Draught ought to fix you right up."

To his shock, Severus Snape whipped out his wand and aimed it at Blake. "Do not tell me to do things. I demand to be released from here."

“No one’s holding you back sir... now please, lower your wand. No one is threatening you,” Blake said soothingly, sweat dripping down his neck. He wasn’t paid enough to deal with this kind of patient, he thought annoyedly.

"The world has gone mad. Stark raving mad," Snape said, and sank thankfully back into oblivion.


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“To be sure, Mrs. Snape, I cannot explain it,” Laura Shelley, the Head Mediwitch said with a tired sigh, her round face perplexed. “I don’t quite understand it myself, but it may be amnesia... I only wish we knew what sort of spell he was hit with. It may have some clue as to why this might have happened.”

“It’s so fascinating,” an over-eager intern gabbled thoughtlessly to another. “We can study him as our research project... ties in perfectly with our report on the varying permanent results of unknown spells....” Her voice died down at Hermione’s piercing glare.

“I do not find my husband’s situation ‘fascinating’, and I will not allow any study to be done by those incompetent fools,” she said coldly to the Head Mediwitch, who nodded at her understandingly.

Tossing an angry look at the blonde intern, Laura Shelley said smoothly, “Of course not, Mrs. Snape. I would not expect it of you. Kate was completely out of line. Some study must be done, however. We’ve never had a case like this, so your husband will have to cooperate while we try to find a cure for him. Of course, it might not even be a result of the spell that Mr. Snape was shot with. It may be accidental... in which case, his memory should be back eventually.”

Hermione let out a breath. “D-do you have any idea when it might come back, if it was a natural occurrence?” she questioned softly, tears filling her eyes.

Gently, the Mediwitch placed a plump hand on her arm. “No.”

The brunette witch walked out of Ms. Shelley’s office, and sank into the cushioned seat in front of it, her legs too weak to move any further. She burrowed her head into her hands. How could so much have happened, so recently?

Their relationship had not been too great lately. Severus had been growing a bit distant, and for a while there, Hermione had thought that this must be what they called the seven-year itch. They had been fighting a lot, and often Hermione had found herself with red eyes and a cold empty bed. But she had still loved him beyond all words, despite her doubts about his feelings for her.

And then he had been late for their third anniversary of their marriage. It had been pretty horrible. She had been at the expensive restaurant, dressed in the new evening gown she had bought just for that night, drinking glass after glass of wine, steadily growing more and more upset. She had known she looked like such a fool, all alone in an evening gown. And then the Aurors had come. Harry himself, with his black hair tousled and blood on his robes, his green eyes filled with concern.

She had run to him, and he had hugged her hard, in a way he hadn’t done since they had both been children.

“Harry?” she had asked tremblingly. All sorts of horrible thoughts had entered her mind then, and it must have shown because Harry shook his head firmly.

“No. He isn’t... dead.”

It had turned out that someone had obviously dueled with Severus, and hard. Severus had managed to fend off most of the blows, but something had slashed his throat, and it wasn’t some ordinary spell. Blood had spilled profusely from his neck, but he had still been alive.

Just barely. And the mediwizards hadn’t been certain if he would ever wake again. He had, though. He had.

But he didn’t remember Hermione any more.

She recalled the awful cold carelessness as his black eyes swept over her face, recognizing her only as a student and not as his wife, his love. There had been no love in those eyes.

It hurt her more than Hermione ever thought it could.