Understanding

Thank you to all who have reviewed- you inspired me to post this much more quickly than I had anticipated! But don't get used to it- I work in retail and with Xmas coming up I will NEVER be home. I'll try to update as quickly as I possibly can. Thank you so much for your kind words; there are separate thanks at the bottom.

Everything HP=JKR's, everything musical = Evanescence's

Understanding
Chapter Two:
My Immortal

**** When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand for all of these years
And you still have all of me****

I had never had to deal with death before in my life. I mean, of course, there had been the sudden loss of Cedric Diggory fourth year and Sirius' death fifth year, and, of course, I had been sad, but I had never lost anyone particularly close to me. And in one night I lost almost everyone near and dear to me.

Waking up in my own bed, I was almost convinced the previous day had just been a dream. My room was the same, my bed was the same, and I just knew when I looked to my right, Parvati would be softly snoring and tossing and turning as usual.

But I was alone. Completely alone. And that's when I realized that my life had completely and irrevocably changed. I mean, I was sad about the girls in my year, but if they were really dead (or in the Hospital Wing in Lavender's case), that meant Harry and Ron were really dead.

I suppose I was somewhat spoiled- a seventeen-year-old who had never experienced loss in her entire lifetime, and in the ten minutes I allowed myself to openly grieve, I bawled my fucking eyes out. Everything I thought of caused me to cry. Ron's embarassed grin, Harry's messy hair. The way they teased me. I remembered helping Neville with all of his homework and cursing him that night our first year. Ginny confiding to me that she was, as her favorite Muggle singer would say "not that innocent." Fred and George and all the hell they raised. If I could do it again, I would have let some of their shit slide. I would have asked Ginny for details on the male anatomy. And Sirius' for that matter. I would have let Harry finally teach me the intricacies of Quidditch. I would have let Ron kiss me. Since fifth year, Ron had been pestering me, asking me if I intended to die a virgin. I told him not to be ridiculous- we weren't going to die. I know it was his way of flirting with me, and I know he knew it was my way of telling him I wasn't intere.
.

I hope he didn't die a virgin.

Makes me feel bloody stupid, though. I should have shagged him. Given him something to help me remember him by. Now, being the only surviving Gryffindor above the age of sixteen to be a virgin, I felt that the virginity I had once held so closely and as such a virtue was nothing more than an unwelcomed burden. Whoever I gave it to probably wouldn't care, and neither would I given time. I should have fucked Ron when I had the chance. At least then I would have had my first time with someone I cared about instead of getting pissed and ripping my clothes off for some dick in a bar like was bound to happen now.

Waking up in my bed, alone, I quickly realized I had aged dramatically in the past twenty-four hours and I didn't like it. I had never wanted to be so jaded or hardhearted. I had never wanted to hate everything, but I did now. Well, everything except for my parents, and Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall. And, okay, Professor Snape.

I had a new appreciation of Snape after we fought together that morning, and then after he held me and rocked me to sleep. I was sure he was just trying to be a good comforter, but a tiny part of me jumped with anticipation at the thought of seeing him again this morning. It appeared that even in tragedy, my crush on the despised Potions Master would not be denied.

It was very selfish of me, I know, to be held by Snape as long as I was yesterday. And it was even worse of me to only cry for the fallen for the first half of my tantrum. As he pulled me close and I felt his heartbeat under my cheek, I began to cry for myself and the love I knew he'd never return. I hated myself that morning. My best friends were dead, and all I could think about was getting into Snape's pants. No, that wasn't exactly true. I didn't just want to get into Snape's pants. I wanted to get into his robes, too.

Pulling myself out of bed and dressing sloppily, I exited the room quickly. I had no desire to see the personal effects of those who had died. Apparently the House Elves had also suffered a great number of casualties; rumor had it that Cedric Diggory's room was cleared the moment Harry arrived on on the Quidditch pitch with his body in his arms. I pulled my hoodie closer to me and headed to the Great Hall. It seemed a logical choice- I had nowhere else to go. My route was interrupted, however, by a sudden swirl of black robes turning ahead of me in the corridor.

"Professor Snape!" He wheeled around and eyed me cautiously before his demeanor suggested I was allowed to approach him. All those years of spying must have had his nerves on edge at every moment. God, no wonder he was such a prick. He seemed impatient, so I jogged to his side. Looking into his eyes, I was completely overcome as vivid memories of the battle flashed in my mind. Oh yeah, those big black eyes didn't make it any easier to concentrate, either.

"Thank you, Professor Snape," I managed to mumbled, though I was entirely dumbstruck already. Chalk it up to stress, please, Professor. Not the fact that I love you madly! "For... everything." He held my eye for a moment, then regarding my clothes, raised an eyebrow.

"I assume, Miss Granger, that you have no idea what day it is." Wow. Not that I was expecting "Hey, Hermione, how are ya?" but still... I shook my head mutely, wondering what he was getting at. Wasn't I correct in assuming that today dress code would not be required?

But my heart skipped a beat and for a moment, I believed that the others weren't dead. That had been a dream. Today was a Hogsmeade day, and they had all left me here since I'd overslept! But Snape's glare burst that little bubble of hope quickly. He may be less of a prick now, but he most definitely was still a prick.

"No, sir. I have no idea."

"It is Friday, Hermione. You have slept for two and a half days. Madam Pomfrey asked me to administer a sleeping draught to allow you some rest, and I also gave you some Dreamless Sleep as you were shrieking in your sleep and waking all of Gryffindor tower."

Was that true? Had I really slept for nearly three days? But, if that was true, Harry and Ron must have already been buried or whatever it was wizards had done to them when they died. They had to have been... Three days.

Society hates a rotting corpse...

I decided to ask Snape about it, but he began to speak again.

"The Headmaster has organized an assembly for all students and their parents today. It was supposed to be school uniform..." He eyed my Muggle clothing with disdain and then transferred his gaze back to my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Professor," I mumbled, "but as you just pointed out, I was asleep. Actually, I was just coming to get breakfast, but, let me guess, it's the wrong time of day for that, too?" Surprisingly, Snape chuckled slightly and casually laid an arm around my back to guide me to the Great Hall.

"Actually, Miss Granger, it is lunch time, and it will be served after the assembly. I hope that satisfies your schedule."

Severus led me into the Great Hall and quickly disappeared from my side. Slowly, I walked toward where I saw my parents sitting. Seeing me, my mother jumped up and ran to me. Her eyes were red and puffy and she held a tissue to her red, runny nose.

"Hi, Mummy," I greeted with less enthusiasm than even I thought was possible, though I hugged her fiercely as my tears sprang up again. I suddenly felt a heavy hand on my shoulder and looked to see my father gazing somberly at me. I smiled weakly at him and turned inis eis embrace until he finally led us all to our place at the Gryffindor table.

I sat there between my mum and dad in the Great Hall, feeling strangely like the four-year-old version of myself who had had to be stuck between them in church so that I wouldn't wander or misbehave too badly. The mood was heavy and the air was oppressive with so much unexpressed emotion, but, in their infinite wisdom, the adults, at least the ones who hadn't been involved in the battle first hand, were trying to make pleasant conversation. Asking where who would be going for summer holiday and things like that. My parents were the exception. They sat quietly, often shooting concerned looks at each other that they thought I couldn't see. They understood. They understood me the way they'd always understood me.

Hermione isn't anti-social, she's just bookish.

Hermione doesn't dislike people, she's just honest.

Hermione won't be all better in a week's time. She just killed several people and her best friends are now rotting in the earth.

Whether it was because each of them had been exposed to death early in life or simply because they understood me and how I worked, I would never know. Bur thr the rest of my life I will be grateful that my father simply held my hand and my mother let me cry on her shoulder.

Neither of them ever said "It'll be okay." They knew it wouldn't.

Dumbledore came to the center of the head table and waited for the din of conversations to die down.

Bad choice of words.

Sorry.

Raising his hands, Dumbledore signalled for quiet. All of the teachers flanked him, I noticed. They had left the spots normally reserved for Professors Vector, Trelawney, and wickwick, Madam Hooch, and Hagrid empty. Whether symbolic or accidental, it was a strong statement, and my eyes welled up immediately at the thought. Hagrid, who had dried my eyes the first time Malfoy called me a Mudblood. I loved Hagrid almost as much as I loved my own father. He had always been so kind and affectionate and loving. Before I knew it, I was sobbing uncontrollably against my father's arm. I called him "Daddy" for the first time in ages, and he put a comforting arm around me, kissing the top of my bushy head and offering me his hankerchief.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Dumbledore began, "and students, I know that each and every one of you has been through the most trying period of your life recently. I know that nothing will ever be the same for you again. However, as Headmaster of this school, I must try to return to some sense of normalcy. Therefore, I have decided to keep this school open to any students who wish to stay and complete the year's studies. The number of students has, sadly, been greatly diminished, as has the teaching staff, but I am committed to each of you who wish to continue your magical educations. Any fifth years who wish to take their OWLs will be given the opportunity to prepare and sit their exams, and any seventh years may do the same with their NEWTs. The decision is, of course, entirely up to both students and parents. For any students wishing to stay, classes will resume in two days' time. You will receive revised class schedules at breakfast tomorrow. Thank you, students and parents, for all that you have done and all you will continue to do. I want you to know how much I appreciate your help and loyalty and how much I love you." Dumbledore broke down then, the first time I'd ever seen him lose it. He'd never even cried that morning after the attack. He began to sob loudly and Professor McGonagall moved to comfort him and embrace him. The students all began looking questioningly at their parents, muttering and crying, but I sat transfixed by the sight in front of me.

Of all people, Severus Snape had stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Dumbledore's shoulder.

A heavy sigh interrupted my thoughts and I turned to look at my father.

"So, what do you say, kiddo? Staying or going?"

That's what I loved about my father. He never needed to put on a pretense. I knew he wasn't being condescending, and I also appreciated the fact that he was not being overly dramatic. We all knew what had gone on, we all knew the specifics and the circumstances. He simply needed to know my answer.

I looked at my mother, the question obvious in my eyes.

"Hermione, you're seventeen now. In five months you'll be a legal adult. I really have no say over what you do."

"But what do you WANT me to do?" I implored.

"I want you home with me safe and under my wing forever," replied my mother, as solemnly and steadily as she could. "But that's never going to happen, and that's what I would have wanted whether this war had happened or not. Do what will make you happiest, Hermione. I know under the circumstances you won't be very happy anywhere, but do whatever it is that will help you heal most." I had begun to cry (or was still crying- I forget which) as my mother made her speech. Always- ALWAYS, my mother knew what I needed to hear. I can honestly never remember a disagreement with her or a time when I had thought I hated her as so many teenagers do. I hugged her briefly and looked her in the eyes.

"I want to stay." She simply nodded and embraced me once again, my fr jor joining in this time so the Grangers were one big bawling mess there at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. When we broke apart several moments later, I happened to look up at the Head Table. Most of the teachers had moved to mingle with students and parents, some crying, some embracing, but Severus Snape stood alone at the table, forlorn and watching my family with a tear in his eye.

He'd deny it now, though. Snapes don't cry, I've been told.

I smiled weakly at him, trying to convey my solidarity, my respect for him. He simply nodded in return and strode out the side door of the hall.


****
Exiting the assembly, I was sure she would be leaving, and I was crushed. Why shouldn't she go? All her friends were dead. The magical world was in shambles. Why should she stay? I'd seen her with her family, and it had broken my heart. My family never hugged. My family dueled. My family never cried, we repressed. But my family was all dead now and had been for quite some time. I guess that's what you get when your family is in the business of Death Eating...

I was sure Hermione was leaving me. The only solace I had left at Hogwarts, the only intelligent conversation I was bound to have. The only student who was not bound to blow up a cauldron. I wanted to beg her to stay. Beg Dumbledore not to let her go. I did my part, Albus, don't I deserve some respite? Don't I deserve a quite lengthy vacation from these abysmal dungeons and the so-close-to-mentally-deficient students we should recieve federal funding?

But I suppose I was more upset by the goings-on than the fact that Hermione would probably be returning home. The fallen had been honored early yesterday morning in a group service. Wizard funerals were not altogether different from Muggle ones, though this one was especially difficult as so many of the students and members of the Order were laid to rest. I had petitioned to wake Hermione, knowing how upset she would be if she missed Harry and Ron's funeral, but Poppy and Albus would not allow it. I have no idea where they came up with the concept that Hermione was fragile, but I knew there was nothing further from the truth. Hermione had dispatched at least five Death Eaters, including some high-ranking ones like Rookwood. She was a very powerful witch and a very powerful woman, and she should have been allowed to attend the funeral.

I felt like a child calling "not it" when it came to telling her she'd missed it. I wouldn't touch that shit with a thirty foot pole.

The free days before classes began again flew by entirely too fast, though I spent most of it alone, leaving the dungeons only for meals. I was ecstatic to learn that Hermione would be staying, but it was also then that I was sure someone had informed her of the funeral. She glared daggers at the head table at regular intervals, and her demeanor had changed from miserable to entirely furious. I caught her staring at Dumbledore on the night before classes were to resume, and for the first time since the assembly, our eyes met. She blushed slightly and smiled at me. From that simple movement, I was sure someone had informed her of my intetnions to wake her. I was grateful for once in my life. Hermione Granger might hate everyone else around her, but not me. I almost smiled back at her.

But I didn't.

Come on, I'm Severus Snape.

Snapes don't smile.

However, g thg the jackass that I am, I would fuck everything up again in the coming weeks. The evil Snape persona was quite difficult to leave behind, I found. As soon as classes began again, I was back to berating students and deducting house points. Strangely, most students were still abashed to lose house points, though most of their houses had been killed off. Classes had begun again on schedule, two days after the parents gave their consent for their students to stay, but the normal schedule had been rearranged to compensate for the loss of both students and teachers. No longer did the students have Herbology or Charms classes, but any student interested in taking their OWLs or NEWTs could do private study, Herbology with Madam Pomfrey and Charms with Professor McGonagall, and, as so many students were now gone, all students of the same year were grouped together for their classes.

The most noticeable change came in the graduating class. The Slytherin seventh years outnumbered the seventh years from the other three houses three-fold. Some students wondered aloud at this phenomenon, but I knew that not one of the Slytherins had helped with either the DA or the Order of the Phoenix. In fact, I was sure that they were all offspring of Death Eaters who, had they been of age, would proudly be wearing the Dark Mark. The Slytherins still grouped together, but now Pansy Parkinson was their leader since Malfoy had fled after the Dark Lord's downfall, and they were every bit as cocky and bitchy as they had been previously.

I will never be ashamed of being a Slytherin. At their best, Slytherins are the most cunning, ingenious witches and wizards you could ever imagine. At their worst, Slytherins turned out like Voldemort, and somewhere in the middle, but towards the dark end, came witches and wizards like Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson- not quite evil, but just plain MEAN.

The current group of Slytherins had lost all respect for me, and I, in turn, had lost all control of them. Pug-Face, I mean, Pansy's mother, father, and older brother were all Death Eaters playing nice and contrite for the Ministry while cursing the Order behind its back. Pansy had made her disdain for me very clear and encouraged her fellow Slytherins to hate me as well. I found I could only scare a few of the smaller ones, and that infuriated me. To make matters worse, members of other houses had begun to respect me. I don't know if you've ever been fawned over by a Hufflepuff, but it's something akin to being stared at by a golden retriever wagging its tail and dropping a ball at your feet.

Once again, my only relief was Hermione. She was not in awe of me; she was not impressed. I knew that she didn't treat me differently because, I realized with a start, she'd always respected me. I'd never thought she'd done anything but tolerate me. Then again, she'd probably never suspected how much I enjoyed having her in class, so I guess we were even.

As the weeks wore on, I became Snapier with each passing minute. Seventh year classes became unbearable as I not only had to deal with Pug-Face and her cronies (once Malfoy's cronies) but also with the realization I'd come to think of Hermione as more than a student. She and I both knew she was far too advanced in potions to be troubled by my class, so it became almost as boring as History of Magic for her. As time went on, I knew she was just going through the motions both in class and in life. She was a shell of her former self and it broke my heart.

Hermione had not confided in me since classes began, but whether it was caused by my prickish behavior or whether the bad behavior was caused by her rejection, I'll never know. In either case, I'm sure our negative energies fed off each other. We were both always in foul moods. I'm not surprised no one tried to talk to me to see why I was acting the way I was, but I was shocked that no one approached Hermione. This was definitely not normal behavior for her, but I guess in the chaos, no one really noticed or cared. Everyone was a bit self-involved at the end of that school year.

One evening, feeling entirely sorry for myself once again, I had emptied an entire bottle of firewhiskey. I knew I'd hate myself in the morning, but, then again, I hated myself now, so what would be the difference?

About three-fourths of the way through the bottle, I sat moping at my desk. Absentmindedly, I picked up a tiny sickle used in gathering potion ingredients and began fiddling with it. I don't know if I'd hit a new level of self-loathing or if I was simply that drunk, but an idea suddenly struck me. Rolling up my sleeves, I stared at the faint indication of evil on my left wrist. Slowly and with no real intention at all, I began to trace the edges of the mark with the sharp edge of the sickle, drawing blood. For some reason (again, alcohol was probably a factor), it felt good to me. I traced the mark over and over again, baring my teeth at the pain, but I couldn't stop. It was now a compulsion. I began to think that if I cut deep enough, I could dig the blasted thing out. Luckily for me, though, I passed out from a combination of alcohol consumption and blood loss before I ever had the chance to try whole-heartedly.

I was right. I did hate myself in the morning. I really, REALLY hated myself.

*********A/N
Thank you all SO much! I got five reviews the first day, and outta those I got 3 "wow"s and a "gorgeous!" I'm so excited! Thank you all so much. Also, if someone knows how to read reviews will you please e-mail me or something? I'm practically computer-illiterate and I had to review my own story just to get to yours. Thanks!

Tanya: Thank you! I'm so glad you liked it. I hated killing the Weasleys too, but it's SUPPOSED to be sad...

Star No Star: Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm blushing profusely! Actually, I'm running around my house like a crazed cheerleader from "Bring It On," but that's entirely unrelated. Thanks!

Flick: Thank you, I quite like it inside Seve hea head. Though, I'd like inside his pants more...

WendyNat: Thank so much!!! I thought I wouldn't care what reviewers said, but you proved me wrong!

XxphoenixX: I almost made you cry? That's gonna make me cry! Thanks! As for your concern, I know it's irrational for Snape's mind to be jumping all over the place like that, but I began writing this story as a way to cope with my father's recent death, and I can tell from experience, maybe it was just my coping mechanism, but my mind went way the fuck all over the place in the beginning. Mostly to dirty thoughts about Snapre, but you know... I hope that kinda explains it.