Understanding

Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Song lyrics and titles belong to Evanescence (though this one I found credited as David Hodges featuring Amy Lee), and my new obsession, Hellboy, belongs to me and only me! You can't take him from me!

Understanding
Chapter Twenty-Six:
Fall Into You

****Seems so far that I've gone down this road
Only to find that it ends
But looking back there is one thing that I know
I can't make it all alone again
'Cause I'm too weak to stand on my own
But all I need is you
So lead me, guide me
Hold me, hide me in love
With all that you are and all that you do
Hear me, take me, mold me
Just fill all of me as I fall into you
Just catch me as I fall
But all this time I have felt so alone
Losing myself in despair
With loving arms you were waiting for me to let go
With every step you were there
'Cause I'm too weak to stand on my own
When all I need is you
Oh, my child
How I have longed for you to come home
All of your life
If you could just see all of my joy
When you herehere with me
Hear me, take me, mold me
Just fill all of me as I fall into you****

Dawn was breaking as we left Snape Manor, and for once I was actually glad to see the morning come. The previous night had been a dream, nothing more, and when we all woke up, we would be nice and cozy in bed.

Well, Hermione and I would be in bed. Together.

Don't ask me where Albus would be.

Albus had insisted that we take Hermione to a Muggle hospital as they were much more accessible to the area and more likely to be able to cure stab wounds to what Albus decided must be a lung. And true to his instinct, the Muggle hospital staff had been very thorough and quick-thinking when it came to Hermione's injuries, explaining the procedures to us as slowly as they could. Albus had told them we were foreign in order to avoid questions of dress, etiquette, and well... payment. However, after our initial pleasure with the doctors, it was more than slightly off-putting that from there Hermione was take away from us and into what they called an operating room. From what I could understand, the healers had been forced to cut her open and physically remove a damaged portion of her lung, taking about two and a half hours. I was not completely sure it was the wisest course of action, and I was petrified when the operating doctor came to talk to us and there were spatters of blood on the front of his coat, but he told us she would be fine. She would need some rest, but she would be fine. The doctor assured us that she had regained consciousness briefly in the operating room but would be, in essence, sleeping off the trauma for a while. It didn't sound like the exact science I felt it should be, but it was all we had at the moment.

As previously stated, I wasy soy somewhat comforted by my surroundings. To be perfectly honest, the Muggle hospital scared me. Everything was bright and white and sterile, and the place smelled an odd mixture of death and antiseptic. Hermione's room was tiny, dominated by the gigantic bed in the center, and she looked very tiny in it, almost skeletal. The staff kept insisting that we be quiet, but there were odd beeps and alarms going off at all hours. It seemed to be a very disconcerting study of opposites, and it scared me to death. Beside the bed, there was only an uncomfortable wooden chair and a series of monitors and screens that looked a lot like the computer Hermione's father had kept in his office, only louder and more annoying. One of the nurses had explained to me that one of the monitors showed everytime Hermione's heart beat. I tried to ignore it, but time after time, I kept feeling my gaze pulled to the screen as though my attention would make all the difference in her survival. There was nothing like that at St. Mungo's. Nothing here was familiar. Nothing here was safe or comfortable. All I wanted was to be at St. Mungo's with a staff and procedures I could trust. However, the Muggle mortality rate was not so much higher than the magical one, and I took a small bit of comfort in the fact that at least some of these medical personnel must know what they were doing.

They had to, didn't they?

Or maybe their mortality rate was because of inefficient medical care and ours was what it was due to Voldemort. My mind began to race with things that could be wrong with her- started imagining that these Muggles had caused more harm than good. I quickly became almost hysterical with grief, and I thank God that Albus was near, because if my emotions had had their way, I would have stolen Hermione and run off with her into the nearest forest or cave like some bloody animal with its wounded mate.

I sat by Hermione's side the entire morning and into the afternoon. She had not regained consciousness since right after the operation, but the doctors told Albus and myself that she would probably be waking up around four to five hours after her surgery. I awaited that moment with bated breath, sitting next to her bedside when all I really wanted to do was get something to eat or even go to the bathroom. But I sat with her. I talked to her. I threatened to make her clean cauldrons without magic if she continued to take her time waking up. And though she thrashed a bit and tossed and turned, she did not make an effort at consciousness until dusk.

Albus had left to get coffee and been gone for some time when the despair finally took over me. Yes, the doctors had said that she should be waking up soon, but they'd also said the longer she was unconscious, the less likely it became that she'd ever wake up. I had no idea about Muggle medicine, and I didn't know that in Muggle circles, five hours was not a long time to wait for someone to regain consciousness. I was once again emotional and unable to control myself. I began to weep and stood to watch over her.

Brushing a lock of hair off her forehead, I felt the tears roll down my cheeks and watched with a bizarre kind of fascination as some of them landing on her. I continued to stroke her face and hands, willing her with every ounce of mental strength I could muster to wake up- to come back to me.

"Hermione," I began softly, my voice catching in my throat. The last words I'd said had been a whispered "thank you" to the doctor who had operated on her. "Hermione, please. Please wake up."

She was breathing softly, and I could feel the little puffs of air hit my hand as I traced along her jawline. She was still the most perfect creature in the world in my sight, and the fact that she looked so peaceful scared me a bit.

That's what people say when someone dies.

Oh, she looks so peaceful.

Besides, I had never known Hermione to be peaceful. She was always thinking something- always! More often than not there was a scowl of concentration playing on her features, and regrettably, more often than not, she was making a face over something I'd said or done to her. It was not like Hermione to be peaceful. In fact, it didn't suit her at all. People with no intelligence had the luxury of being peaceful, not Hermione.

But I was reassured by the soft warm pulses of breath she emitted and the slight rise and fall of her chest.

"Hermione, I know that I'm probably the last person on earth you want to talk to right now, but I have to let you know something. I'm not going to say I'm sorry because I know you know that. You can read me like an open book, and you, for some reason, are the only one who can. You know I'm sorry. You know I've hated myself every day since I left you. I know you know how terrible I felt leaving alone after the first time you ever- God, Hermione! Just thinking that I'm the only one... Even now I get flustered. You can't possibly know what having a girl like you means to a man like me. But you do know. You always know.

"I'm not going to say 'I love you' either. You know that. You have been the only thing through this whole post-war ordeal that has made me look forward to living. I intended to die on that field, you know. I wanted to. I wanted to atone for every wrong thing I'd done. I wanted to pay for every life lost on account of me- whether by my own hand or because of my actions. I planned to leave that night. But it was just my bloody luck that I had the superb timing to cast a hex at exactly the same moment as the killing curse was cast. That night, after the battle, when you needed me so badly. When you cried with me. Holding you in my arms was the only thing that made me realize it might not be so bad to live. I've loved you from the start, Hermione. You know that now- especially after all those crazy, psychotic letters I wrote you. I know you know now that I love you, and I hope that even when I mistreated you and abandoned you, I hope that you knew I still loved you. I could never stop loving you, that's why it hurt so much thinking you could stop loving me...

"Good God, now I'm rambling... Oh, fuck it! Hermione, I'm sorry! I treated you like rubbish, I suspected you of cheating before we ever even had much of a relationship, and I was a total fuck-up as a boyfriend and a lover. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if your right hand gave you more sexual pleasure than I ever did! But I'm sorry, Hermione, I truly am! I never should have left you. I never should have abandoned you, especially after all you'd been through. I was being completely selfish and childish, and you have put me to shame in your love and forgiveness. All the times you asked me to come back... I know I could have come back to you, and I know you would have welcomed me with open arms, but I am an idiot, Hermione. I hope that after all of this- after I let Draco Malfoy abduct you and do God knows what with you- I hope that you will still forgive me. And I love you, too. I know you know, but you need to hear it. You probably need to hear it as much as I need to hear it, and I probably need to say it as much as you need to hear it.

"God, what am I saying?" I was exasperated beyond belief. No wonder I had never made any attempt at reconcilliation- I couldn't even apologize properly when she was unconscious! I was a Hogwarts educator, and my sentence structure was barely more advanced than "girl good- death bad." I moved higher up toward the head of the bed before continuing again, but kept leaning low next to it. I needed her to hear me, and even if she didn't wake up, I would feel better knowing that on some level she had heard and understood how truly, compeltely sorry I was for the arsehole I had been.

"Hermione, what I'm trying to say is I need you. It's more than love or lust or friendship or respect. I need you. More than anything I've needed in my whole life. You are the only one who's ever loved me, and, quite frankly, I find it highly unlikely that anyone ever will again. I need you to be with me, Hermione. I need you to love me and put up with me and grow old with me. I need you to wake up because without you I don't want to survive.

"I need you, Hermione. I love you, I want you, I'll do whatever you want, just please wake up! I know you have a perverse need to save people; you've always had it. You, Potter, Weasley- you all had it. You always wanted to be the heroes- you wanted to save the day. Well, I'm telling you now, Hermione- I'm BEGGING you. Please wake up!" I cried vehemently, but in a much quieter, much more defeated voice, I repeated my plea.

"Please save me."

I had knealt beside her bed while I sobbed, leaning my head against the bed rail. I knew she couldn't hear me, but I continued to whisper my requests into the side of the mattress. It was a position of suplication and penitence, and I felt that it was only right. After all, I was at the mercy of this tiny (well, if I was being honest, she was just a teensy bit less tiny than I remembered her) little girl. Her survival would be my own, and her demise would send me into madness.

At first, I wasn't even sure I felt it. A light, teasing touch over the top of my head. But within a manner of seconds, I was sure. Turning tearful eyes toward the head of the bed, I was indeed rewarded by the sweet weak smile of my beloved, and she was running one heavy hand through my hair as tenderly as she could manage.

"Hermione-" I began but was quickly silenced by the mischievious look on her pale face.

"Jeez, Severus if you wanted me to wake up, a simple 'please' would have done the trick."

***********A/N*******************
I only have three more real chapters left and an epilogue-y kinda thing. It's really winding down, and I'm getting a bit emotional from it! Or, that could be my crazy, messed up hormones! Either way's g's good fun!

Thanks:

redheaddoxy: Neither of them knew Draco was otherwise armed, and by the time he made any more toward them he succeeded in stabbing 'Mione. Besides, you're right. Everyone prefers a nice dirty fight.

Florentia: Thank you for the anatomy lesson. I had planned the whole lung thing, but I was glad someone else recognized it! I'm so glad you liked Hermione's line. I came up with several and that was the one I liked the most!

JennD: Ha ha! I got you kinda! I got you kinda! The title was supposed to make you uneasy, silly! That's why I picked it! And I totally understand the work thing. I hate work with a violent, fiery passion, and if you could figure out a way for me to get paid to do this, I'll figure out a way to pay you to review, okay?

Zephyr: Glad you liked it, and I'm also glad I hade you going for a while. It was my biggest fear that people wouldn't let themselves be scared for 'Mione 'cause they just figured I wouldn't let her die. I mean, what fun is it to write these things if you can't screw with people's heads?

ArienAstera: Thanks! And how did you kow I'd never kill her? I killed everyone else...;)

Deb: Thanks! I'm blushing! You're the best! I'm glad you liked it, and oh, by the way... I got you kinda! I got you kinda!

sammis: Wow! I'm impressed you read it all in one sitting, and I thank you very much for doing so! You've got stamina! And thank you for what I think were compliments, but as I am American I'm not quite sure. Spliffing? Jeez! Why don't you guys just speak English for God's sake! Just joking! =) Thanks!

spaz141: Yes, I get that Draco's member would have been a hindrance, but honestly, I think guys whine about them too often. I mean, they can't hurt THAT bad when traumatized! I mean, I've known some guys who... well, let's just say their idea of fun was not what mine would be, and they never complained that it hurt! Anyway... Thanks! You rock!

squiggle: I hope you've liked it, but if it doesn't change your mind on the whole first person thing that's okay. Just as long as you like MY first person story! =)

Joanna Scarlett: Thanks for your review, and don't worry. I don;t want to give away too much, but I smell lemons approaching!

DRanged691: Thank you! You are hella cool!

Eternal Queen: Jeez, I made your day? Damn, I'm good! Thanks a whole hell of a lot!