A Different Kind of Magic--UNDERGOING EDIT

Chapter 3 - Recognition

Severus opened his eyes, and if looks could kill, Dr. Shaw would have been dead in his tracks. His eyes flicked back to Hermione, still holding the doctor's coat in her hand with her other spread like a fan over her lips, eyes wide and brimming with tears.

"P-p-professor? Is that really you? Are you awake? Can you understand me? Blink twice for yes if you can hear me." Hermione was breathless, staring in taut anticipation of his response.

Very slowly, Severus blinked once, twice, and then he smirked. Hermione burst into tears and rushed over to his side. Dr. Shaw looked at him with nothing less than incredulity written all over his face. Severus thought his jaw was going to drop off his face and hit the floor.

Hermione was instantly clutching his arm, her cool, oh so cool, hands against the ferocious burning of his skin, like a sweet tonic his soul had longed for. She buried her head in his chest and wept like a newborn babe, the sobs wracking her body as every emotion that had been pent up for so long rushed out in a tidal wave of relief. Bloody whinging female, he groaned inwardly, but inside he was secretly pleased; if he had to be trapped in a house of medical horrors, then at the very least it might be bearable with someone familiar that seemed to care, no matter how degrading the situation was.

Dr. Shaw regained his professional composure and came over to the bedside, gently pulling away Hermione and settling her back to rest in the antique overstuffed chair by the fireplace. He plucked a handkerchief from his coat pocket and handed it to her, then bent over to whisper something to her, gently brushing her hair away from her cheek and lingering a bit too long at her shoulder. Snape narrowed his eyes, shooting daggers at Dr. Nitwit. He wondered what the arsewipe was up to with the girl. Hermione nodded and dabbed at her eyes in response to the doctor, turning her gaze back to the professor to stare wistfully into his eyes as he continued to look back at her studiously.

Dr. Shaw walked back to the bedside and stood imposingly over Snape's body. Severus flicked his eyes from Hermione back up to the doctor. A fake smile graced the doctor's features, and Severus constricted his expression as best he could to convey his contempt for the idiot. He was a good judge of character, and if his spidey-sense was correct, this bugger hadn't changed one bit in twenty years.

"Professor Snape," he began, that idiotic smile never leaving his face, "my name is Dr. Shaw. You have been in a coma for a number of months since the war, and you've been through quite a shock. Due to the number of casualties flooding St. Mungo's, we transferred you to this facility once you were stabilized.

"I am not at liberty to discuss the details of your situation until we are sure of your..." he paused, choosing his words carefully, "...mental faculties, however, I can tell you your recovery has been most difficult and will require extensive rehabilitation."

"We have assigned Miss Granger to your room, along with Miss Donnelly, to make sure you are comfortable and have ‘round-the-clock' care. I cannot make any guarantees, Mr. Snape, but the fact you have come out of this coma is quite remarkable in and of itself. You have given us new hope for your recovery, and I am sure Miss Granger and Miss Donnelly will do their utmost to speed it along. I will have Miss Granger get you some ice chips to help alleviate the dryness in your throat."

"Please take it easy when speaking for the first few days, Professor, and welcome back. We need to make sure your recovery progresses slowly and as expected. I will continue to monitor your progress, Mr. Snape. If you need anything, Miss Granger or Miss Donnelly can get whatever you require if it is at our disposal. Have you understood what I have told you, Mr. Snape? You may nod once if you are able, or blink twice to the affirmative."

Severus was surprised to discover he was able to nod once to indicate his understanding. Anything to get this dunderhead away from him so he could focus on Miss Granger and get some relevant details out of her. Dr. Shaw prattled on about some other things concerning what medications and fluids they were giving, but he no longer paid any attention to the doctor. His eyes had flicked back to Hermione, who now stood at the foot of his bed watching him carefully through a tear-stained face that looked as though it had seen more than its fair share of horrors. For a moment, his heart caught in his throat at how tired and haggard she looked, and then contempt washed over him, angry that she was wasting her time mending a lost cause such as him. With a flourish of a pen on what must have been a bedside chart, Dr. Shaw approached Miss Granger and, at a much lower volume, conversed with her for several minutes before giving Severus a lame salute to match his fake smile.

Snape's eyes never left Miss Granger as she quietly closed the door behind Dr. Shaw and turned on her heel, smiling dumbly at him. She slowly went to the table by the armchair and took up a small cup, dipping it in a silver vat at the foot of the table. He heard the clink of ice filling the cup as she rose from her position, straightened her nurse's clothing, and came to sit at the side his bed.

"Would you like some ice chips, Professor?" she asked quietly, as if her voice would break him.

He nodded. She held the cup at chest level, gingerly taking a small piece of ice out of the cup, bringing it to his lips almost reverently. Still gazing into her eyes, he obediently opened his mouth and let the ice slide onto his tongue and melt. It was a small slice of heaven, if there were such a thing. Severus didn't think there was anything that felt quite so good at that moment while the chilling liquid dripped into the back of his throat. They stayed that way for several minutes, he, nodding when he was ready for another chip, and she, taking the utmost care to place each one ever so gently upon his lips. It was almost erotic. If he hadn't been dripping sweat from every pore and unable to move, he just might have sat up and kissed the damn girl.

She took another strange device and held it to his forehead. After setting it aside and taking the squeezing contraption off his arm, she told him, "You have a very high fever, Professor Snape," then shook her head. "You are going to need a lot of rest before we can begin trying to give you anything other than ice chips. Your body isn't used to regular nourishment, and it could send you into shock if we start too soon." She shook her mane of curls, which cascaded over her shoulder. He noticed it had come loose from a white headband that hung unnoticed off her arm before it fell to the floor.

"I apologize for all the Muggle devices, Professor. This building is non-magical, so we can't use any spells here; orders of the Ministry." She gestured vaguely in the direction of the bags and various things by his bedside. Well, that explained his lack of magic to some extent, as well as the ridiculous medieval devices she was using to care for him. He sighed, letting another ice chip melt slowly on his tongue.

Hermione left the room suddenly, and he felt that panic rise up his in his breast again. He desperately did not want to be alone and unable to move anything except for his head. He kept his eyes on the door for the terrifying two minutes it took her to come back with a cold washcloth. She draped it over his forehead; divine. Severus closed his eyes and exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Abruptly, extreme fatigue bathed him in a rush. It was all too much, really. He couldn't expect to just jump out of bed and be off running when he had obviously been in such bad shape for a long time.

Severus still hadn't tried to speak, not trusting his voice to not sound like a strangled frog. Hermione must have realized he was exhausted as she adjusted his pillow and tucked his blankets more securely around his body. She leaned in close to his face, her breath a sweet mint and spice that assailed his nostrils. Her concerned touch swept the sweat-soaked hair from his skin and tucked it behind his ears while taking the cloth and mopping the perspiration from his brow. His eyes closed and he felt himself starting to drift again, the delirium and fatigue arresting his consciousness once more.

As he meandered into slumber, he heard her whisper to him, "I will do whatever it takes to help you recover, Professor. I promise, I won't give up on you." He nodded once in response, barely registering her continued ministrations to contain the fever that raged on into the early hours of the morning before finally abating just before dawn.