All Wounds Heal In Time

A/N: Assignment week was particularly painful, and I’m sorry I’ve not added sooner, but I have a chapter here for you now and hopefully more soon. One more assignment due in a few days but after that I’ll be free to write out all the plot in head so please stay and read, and review if you will please I do enjoy them so.

Just a quick message to neelix: Let the poor professor wake up, you say? What an intriguing idea! ;)

Enjoy day five guys ~ Marie.

~Day Five~

Hermione opened her eyes. The room was quiet, and dim. It wasn’t light yet.

Her eyes felt quite crusty, she rubbed her knuckles into them. She hadn’t taken her make-up off before she had come to bed and cried. There were black smudges on her hands now.

She leant across the bed to the other side, where her wand and current bedtime reading lay on the top of a small night stand. She used her wand to light her watch, squinting in the light, taking a moment to read the hands.

It was ten past four in the morning. Hermione groaned, cursing herself. Even under the influence of alcohol she couldn’t manage to sleep a whole night through. She rolled onto her stomach, flinging her arms and legs out to make use of the full bed, her tired face pressing into the inviting softness of her pillow. It was warm and comfortable and she should be able to just drift off again like any sane person would.

She closed her eyes and thought about sheep, bleating and prancing about, jumping over a fence to let her count them. It wasn’t distracting for long, though, and she soon found herself wondering. She remembered back through the slight fog of the previous night. She had managed to talk to George but he wasn’t having any of it. She felt a little ashamed, she had let him change the subject with very little objection. It was OK, she reasoned with herself. She would work harder on helping George once she had less stress through work.

Work. Her mind floated down white corridors into the room where he lay. She hadn’t kept a tally of the hours she had spent in there, but she felt a strange revulsion already in the idea of going back. It was so hot, so bleak and sparse. The sharp smell that permeated the room was nauseating. She would happily never go there again.

Yet she felt frustrated and awkward now simply because she hadn’t been to the hospital yesterday. She felt like she should have made the effort somehow. But this was ridiculous, it wasn’t like she did anything while she was there. She had only spent her time until now experimenting with his recovery, and since she had no new leads to follow she couldn’t do that any more. It was the next logical step in her research method, to pick through that awful library. It had done more use than just going and sitting with him in an empty room. At least it would have done if she had found anything.

She wondered if, on some level, he knew exactly who she was, and had been waiting for someone like her, counting on it, to come and take him away from the situation he had found himself in and return him to the world of magic. She knew logically however that he surely did not have any conscious thoughts, and the fact that she had not been back to see him the previous day wouldn’t matter. But, she couldn’t help wondering if it did matter in some way.

Hermione rolled onto her back again, pushing some of her hair away from her face. She sighed heavily, there was no way she was going to get back to sleep right now, despite the aching tiredness in her body through lack of sleep. She felt gifted to have such a mind as hers, but it drove her wild on nights such as these when she just could not seem to switch it off. Even as she considered this, on some other level her mind was still thinking about Snape, wondering how she could bring him back.

Wondering if – somehow – he had missed her yesterday.

She climbed from the bed and got dressed quietly in the dark. She wanted to go downstairs and find something to drink and perhaps a snack, and although there was nobody she was likely to run into, she didn’t want to get caught in her bedclothes.

Her socked feet trod quietly down the corridor and stairs. She chose an apple from the fruit bowl on the centre of the table before swiftly peeling and cutting it with her wand. The crunchy flesh was sweet and juicy. She ate slowly, savouring the flavour while muttering quietly to herself. She was running scenarios in her head, trying to assess the information she had on this infuriating case, hoping she may unravel some link or answer. She felt awfully like she had missed some fact, something important, but however hard she tried to place it she could not see what it might be. She wasn’t sure what to do next.

Her stomach rolled, a bitter bile washing over for a moment. She hated not knowing what to do, or having a plan as to how she might proceed. She felt afraid, suddenly. Kingsley and the others in Recovery were expecting her to succeed, and probably quicker than she had taken already. But she was at a loss. Despite her hours of study, she still had no inkling of how to get him back.

She stood and paced a little, only a few steps back and forth, her hands wringing in front of her. Equations, theories and potion recipes fought and mingled in her head. She continued to assess each thought as it arrived, analysing it to see if it uncovered the epiphany she so badly needed, still they came and went with no effect.

She wondered through into the dining room and pushed through the doors into the room she had spent the evening drinking with George. There were the usual bottles and other detritus littered around the floor and small coffee table which sat in front of the sofa, it was on this table that Hermione found what she had been looking for – George’s packet of cigarettes. She took one and put the box back, then she walked down the hallway to the front door, opening it and putting it on the latch before closing it behind her. The night was still but quite chilly, she looked up and saw that what little cloud there was was patchy. The sky was bright and definitely getting lighter. Dawn was coming earlier now it was midsummer.

Hermione put the cigarette in her mouth, moving her wand to light it, and then pausing. She hesitated a moment or two, and then put the cigarette on the ledge of the wall beside her before slipping back inside the house. The cigarette lay there for a minute or two, and then she re-emerged, pulling the door this time so that it slammed and locked behind her. She stood for a moment adjusting her bag on her shoulder, and she wrapped a light scarf around her neck. It was summer, but the early morning had a bite to it. She grabbed the cigarette a she moved down the steps, putting it into her mouth and lighting it as her trainers walked at quite a quick pace down the quiet street and onto the busier roads.

The smoke curled away around her head as she walked, her other hand stuffed into the pocket of her jacket. The air felt fresh on her face, and almost damp. On the ground around there was small patches of mist that hung in the eerie half-light, and the patches of grass in the gardens she passed were glinting with dew.

The sky to her right was becoming lighter, the sun hadn’t begun to rise yet but the light was certainly increasing. She exhaled a stream of smoke, watching it hover before whipping around her as she strode through it. The streets were quiet, there was very little traffic, only the odd cars passing now and then, one bus rattled past. It was the day for the binmen to come to Grimmauld Place and the surrounding houses, and beside gates and driveways there were bags of rubbish waiting to be collected. Hermione heard the rattle of a can ahead and she looked quickly over to a pile further down the street, trying to make out details in the light of the dawn and the orangy glow of the streetlights, which were still on above her. The sleek movement and reddish fur caught her eye as the urban fox slipped away.

She came to end of the street, stepping out and across a wider road which usually roared with cars during the day, but now still was quiet, although the number of cars passing seemed to be slowly increasing. This street continued for a few miles along, moving more towards the centre of the city. She wasn’t exactly sure of the exact route she needed to take once she left the road but she needed to follow it for a good half an hour before that happened. She simply let her legs carry her, her eyes sweeping around as gradually the light changed, her mind continually working.

It had been a long while since Hermione had gone out walking at dawn, even longer since she had done so on the streets of a town, and she felt her heart race a little to be back in these surroundings. The last time she had done this had been at the Burrow, she had gone walking up to the hill outside the village and watched the sun fall across and warm the country below her. She had been nursing an aching heart that day, Ron had refused to come with her and she had missed him with every step she took, dampening her enjoyment of the morning.

She relished the morning air, the quietness of it all. The streetlights were off now, the light around her grey and sharp, her eyes took in the colours and textures around her and she thought they looked altered in the early morning light.

Hermione had been walking for quite some time before the sun finally rose above the horizon and the bright beams of light dazzled her when it caught her through gaps in the houses. There was very little ground mist now, cars were increasingly passing by. She began to pass other people walking out in the morning, some scowling or staring at their feet as they passed each other, some offering smiles and even brief words.

When she reached the junction she recognised she scanned the road signs, soon finding the red ‘H’ she was looking for. She followed the road, not really caring that she didn’t know any of the area she was in. She had a handy guide Arthur Weasley had given to her on her first day in London, it was a small keyring in the shape of a red phone box, which in a moment and a tap of the wand could be transformed into a map of the city. She didn’t need to use it, though, since the way was well signposted, and soon she was walking alongside the park, the hospital looming up on her left.

She hadn’t known exactly where she was heading when she had walked out of the door but as she walked she found herself being drawn to the hospital, to the white room. She had no idea what she would do when she got there, she had nothing new to try. Yet here she was, and since she had walked there, she felt she might as well go inside.

The foyer was quiet, there was nobody walking around. The lights were bright and made her squint a little as she stepped through the glass doors, she glanced down at her watch. It was nearly twenty past six, she had been walking longer than it had felt like. She looked in her bag and found the pass that had been provided for her. She clipped it onto her lapel.

The corridors were almost deserted as she moved through the hospital to the ward. A man in overalls, pushing a trolly laden with cleaning aids, walked past and gave a slight frown. He eyed her over slightly but then noticed the security badge on her chest, and continued without saying a word, whistling a disjointed tune as he turned through some doors. The song echoed hollowly in the hallway.

She walked through some swing doors into the reception of the ward, but again there was nobody at the desk. She stepped forward slightly, looking around. There was no sign of anyone.

When she reached his door, it was closed. She opened it and went inside.

====================

Something woke him. His eyes flickered open for a moment, but he closed them again instantly, his ears straining as he tried to understand what might have broken his sleep.

A step or two, the door closing.

Someone was in the room. It was probably the night nurse.

The footsteps moved slowly towards the bed and they sounded unfamiliar somehow. He wasn’t an expert on footfall but he thought he could recognise the quick step of the night nurse when he heard it, but these were lighter and more hesitant than usual. The sharp sound of the chair being scrapped rang out then from his right, and he heard the person sit.

It was her. It must be her.

He felt a little angry and a little afraid, he was annoyed at himself for choosing to keep his eyes closed and he was angry at her for being somehow mysterious and affecting. His annoyance at not being able to recognise her was intense, he felt like everything would be revealed to him if only he could solve that particular puzzle.

And she had been inconsistent which was another element he disliked. She had come regularly before and it had surprised him that she had not come back yesterday.

Yesterday!

He had seen the light as his eyes had flickered, it was daytime again meaning that he was facing another day.

How long had he been here?

The question flared in him again, his mind racing along different paths as his anger surged in his body. Ever since she had left the last time, since he had concluded somehow that his life had existed before he had been captured in this tiled room, he had been desperately trying to figure out how he had come to be there. How long had he been there. Maybe, if only he saw her again, he would remember. But yesterday, she hadn’t come.

Yet now she was here, he was certain it was her. He could hear her quiet breathing, the slight rustle now and then as she shifted in the chair. He cursed himself again, silently. Why had he kept his eyes closed? She was sitting near, near enough for him to see her he could tell, and yet he was afraid to open his eyes in case she was looking at him, in case she noticed the moment and guessed he was really awake, more awake than he wanted her to know.

The chair screeched as she moved it forward further.

He felt the sudden movement and weight of her leaning on the bed, to his right side. As far as he could tell, none of her was touching him and he was glad. He lost a brief internal battle, opening his eyes and focusing on the tiles above him.

At his side, he could see her. She was leaning her arms on the bed, her head on her arms. Her hair was down and now he could see that it was wavy and wild but not messy or tangled, or curly really. Some played across her cheek, he could just make it out. Her face was mostly hidden but he focused as well as he could on what he could see of it. The curve of her cheek was soft and appealing, her lips seemed full from the side. Her eyes were closed but long lashes lay across her cheeks. He felt again an attraction to her, she was beautiful to him in the early light.

But try as he might he could not recognise her.

Time passed.

White,

Square,

Twenty six.

He could not dismiss her presence entirely but soon he began to focus once again on the tiles above him. Everything seemed still and quiet and he found he was not affected by her presence as he had been.

Although he didn’t realise it, he appreciated her closeness that day.

White.

“Hello there, can I help you?”

The quiet voice still rang through the quiet room, although the tone was kind and helpful rather than harsh or accusatory. That was the night nurse. He felt the body beside him start as she stood, she ran her hands quickly over her clothes and hair.

“Hello, I’m Hermione Granger, I’m – er – a research student…”

“So I see,” the nurse said, pointing to the pass on the girls jacket. “I’m Mary, I’m the night nurse on this ward.” The girl shook her hand and he saw the nurse raise an eyebrow and continue. “I don’t get to meet many of you students. It seems a bit early for you to be visiting.”

“I’m sorry, I hope you don’t mind,” the girl apologised. “I couldn’t sleep, and when I got here there was nobody at the desk.”

The nurse shook her head and raised her hand as if to stop the girl’s excuses.

“I don’t mind you being here, you can visit whenever you choose as far as I’m concerned,” the nurse smiled. “I thought, for a moment, you were a relation of Seth.”

“Seth?” The girl asked, and the nurse frowned slightly, gesturing now to him in the bed.

“Seth.”

“Oh, of course,” the girl gasped a bit and seemed to go a little red. “Of course. I’m sorry, I’m just not used to using his… first name. You see, he was my teacher, a professor at school.”

His eyes widened slightly but he did not move or flinch. He had been her professor. Yes, she had said that to him before, but it sounded as alien to him now as it had done then. This was absurd, the girl was practically telling him his previous life and yet the memories still evaded him, slipping away like fish in a pool. He could not grasp one and keep one, though he could feel them moving around. He knew now that he should know her, yet he still didn’t.

“You knew him?” Mary sounded shocked. “Well, you may not be a relation but it’s still nice to meet an acquaintance of Seth’s.” He saw the nurse look over to him and smile. “He’s my favourite. But he’s never had any visitors in all the time he’s been here. You must feel glad to be helping with the research, knowing who he is and all?”

“I am,” the girl replied. “I didn’t know it was him until I arrived here. I had no idea he was in this… position.”

He noticed her pause. She continued.

“How long has he been here?”

His heart sped a little, he felt it in his chest and heard it on the machine at his shoulder, luckily it wasn’t enough of a change for either of the women to notice. He held his breath, he could hardly think of anything but the question.

How long had be been there?

“Well I came here three years ago and he was here then. He’s the only one who hasn’t gone one way or the other since I’ve been here. He’s my only original,” the nurse smiled at him again. “Irene, the day nurse, she said he had been there a while before that even, he had an awful wound on his shoulder. It’s a wonder he survived at all. I guess it must be five years now. Yes, about five years.”

He knew if they heard his heart increasing they might guess he could hear their conversation, and the level of preservation he had established for himself over time – over a long time – prevented him from showing his surprise. But the shock coursed through him like a fear, tingling to the fingers of his good hand.

Five years.

Five long years looking at twenty six tiles.

He knew somehow the scale of the time he had spent there, he was aware how many long days like yesterday made a month, how many months made a year. He could remember that, but he still could not remember who he had been before this room. He had lost five years, but five years of what?

The nurse’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Poor Seth. I don’t know what will happen to him now, the research seems to be getting nowhere. There’s no evidence of brain damage, no toxins in the blood. Nothing that should render him so lifeless and still…” She trailed off. Then she added, “Well, you can see.”

The girl turned then, and he could see her. Before she had been turned away from him, facing the nurse who was standing by the door. Now her body twisted as she leaned looking at him, looking at his face. She turned back to the nurse and said,

“The irony is, if there was anyone I could choose to ask how to help him somehow, it would be him. He had such a brilliant mind, I’m certain he would know what to do.”

“What did he teach?” Mary asked.

His ears were strained, taking in every element of the conversation, every word. He needed something to remind him who he was and why he was there. His frustration was intense.

“Chemistry,” the girl replied.

Again he was bemused, the word meant nothing to him. If it had been his career, how could he not remember it. How was it that he could not remember anything?

“Where did you go to school?”

The girl hesitated again. “In Scotland, actually, but he wasn’t from Scotland. To be honest I’m afraid I don’t know where he’s from.”

His ears were burning now, he felt the sweat on his right palm. He wanted to bellow in anger and frustration, he felt his rage like fire coursing through his body.

Why?

Why could he not remember?

“I don’t suppose you know if he has any family?” Mary asked quietly, and she stepped forwards towards the girl. “A family would perhaps be able to make a decision as to what may happen to him.”

He saw the girl shake her head, her wild hair swaying with the movement.

“I don’t know if he has any family, not that I know of. I’m not sure – unless…”

She paused again. The nurse nodded almost imperceptibly, and eager look on her face. She said,

“Go on.”

He held his breath again.

“There are still some teachers at the school who knew him, who might know of his family.”

“Is there any way you can contact them?” The nurse put a hand on the girl’s arm.

“Yes, yes I promise I will,” the girl replied.

He let his breath out slowly, his fury subsided a little. He was in need of answers, and somehow he felt that this girl who had been visiting him - who had acted so strangely and sparked his interest – she would provide the answers. He could wait.

The girl was moving quickly now, placing the chair back by the window. He noticed that she carried it this time rather than dragging it. She turned to the nurse and he could see both their faces clearly in the morning light, which was coming warmly through the window.

“I’ve got to go into the office, I work during the day,” the girl began, and the nurse nodded again. “I will try and phone the school as soon as I get in. I’ll see who I can talk to. It was very nice to meet you,” she finished, holding her hand out to Mary.

Mary took it and they shook hands, breaking apart before both moving towards the door.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse said, holding the door open. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”

“Hermione,” the girl replied as she walked past the nurse through the door. “Hermione Granger.”

“Well,” he heard Mary say as the door slowly swung shut. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger.”

The door shut.

His eyes were wide, his heart began to thunder. He heard the merciless beeping of the machine, it’s high pitched tone cutting into his mind. His control was lost, he could only be thankful the nurse had left.

Miss Granger.

*Miss Granger*.

He saw her, in his mind’s eye. Her face younger, her hand strained and waving in the air, the infuriatingly smug and eager look that constantly played on her childish features.

Around her the room focused, he saw it all, the stones, the desks, he could almost smell the things around him.

His hand clutched the sheet, his skin was covered in a fine sweat, he was shaking.

Like a tidal wave, hundreds, thousands of memories crashed over him, flooding his mind all in one moment, smashing together. Hogwarts, the dungeons, the mountains, he seemed to fly above and around and through them, endlessly moving, everything passing him on all sides. Voldemort, the bite. The most intense pain he had ever endured. Everything was clear.

Severus Snape remembered.


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A/N Oooh! Not long to wait for more I promise!

Just some review replies ~

Tambrathegreat: Thanks so much for your repeat reviews, I’m so glad that you are enjoying the story and that you don’t mind me spinning it out a bit for the plot. There’s plenty in my head and more coming soon, I promise I’ll try not to make you wait *too* much! I still feel bad for George, I hope he ends up alright. We shall see! :)

Nmos: Thanks for sticking with it and reviewing, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and what’s to come. I’ll try to not make it long before our favourite Potions Master reveals his answers!

Magalena: Thank you very much for the review, I am glad you are interested in how Snape came to be in this situation. I hope you enjoy the chapters to follow.

Neelix: More soon! I promise ;)

CB13: Thank you very much for your review, and I’m glad I made you smile! My partner is half American and his parents live in New Jersey. I have always loved America and the people I have met there, just wanted you to know I’ve respected you guys for a long time despite the crazy world of politics we all live in today!

Sureves Epans: Thank you again for another lovely review, I am so flattered that you like my stories and writing style. I’m glad you are enjoying it so much. There will be more soon. :)

Thanks again guys, I hope you enjoyed it! ~Marie.