Mist and Vapors

In a moment, it was over, and Hannah was standing on the grass just outside the grounds at Hogwarts, her legs wobbling so badly she had to keep a hold on Tonks so as not to fall over.

"You're a bit of a Nervous Nelly, aren't you?" Tonks said curiously.

"Only when it comes to Apparating," Hannah said weakly, wiping the tears off her cheek in a gesture of annoyance. "Let's go."

A few minutes later, Tonks right behind her, she pushed through the double doors of the hospital wing, out of breath from the long, hurried trip across the grounds and up the stairs to the third floor.

"How is he?"

"He'll be fine," Flitwick said calmingly. He and Remus sat on one of the beds that lined the main floor of the hospital wing. The Auror that had accompanied them perched on a windowsill, looking outside with a bored expression. "We don't exactly know what's going on," the small wizard continued, looking with chagrin at the closed door of the private room. "Pomfrey bundled us out of the room as soon as we had him settled on the bed. She's stuck her head out of the door a few times, though, and from what she said, it doesn't seem like there's anything the matter that can't be fixed."

Dizzy with relief, Hannah looked irresolutely at the closed door. She had a healthy respect for the school matron, and she didn't want to interrupt - after all, she was working to make Severus well. But, Lord, she needed to see him...

She had just about made up her mind to risk incurring the matron's wrath and knock, when Pomfrey's grey head peered out from behind the door. "Oh good, it's you," she said when she saw Hannah. "Come on in. He's being difficult. But what else is new?"

Severus lay on the bed farthest from the door, his face pale against the white linens. Hannah had that odd twisting sensation in her chest again. Without the folds of black fabric that usually swirled around him, his thin frame covered only by a light blanket, his bare arms sticking out of the short sleeves of the hospital gown, he looked strangely exposed. Smaller. Fragile, somehow. He opened his eyes as he heard their footsteps.

"Look what I found outside," Pomfrey said brightly.

"About time," he groused as he looked at Hannah, but she could see the relief in his eyes.

"Believe me, I would have liked to have been here sooner." She kissed his forehead lightly before sitting down on the chair next to his bed. "So? How are you?"

"It appears you'll have to put up with me a while longer." His voice was still much weaker than she would have liked, but at least there was the hint of a smirk around the corners of his mouth.

"Well, that's a relief." She smiled a still rather shaky smile at him before turning to Pomfrey. "So what's the matter with him?"

"Well..." The matron looked at Severus and took a deep breath. "Do you want to tell her, or do you want me to?"

He pressed his lips together tightly before nodding for her to go on.

"Most of his injuries were quite basic - a broken wrist, a cracked rib, a laceration on the back of his head. All easily mended. His shoulder is badly bruised, but no breaks there. He'll be stiff and sore for a couple of days. He has a light concussion as well - occasional dizzy spells and some nausea. Anyway," Pomfrey continued, "other than a murderous headache for a couple of days, he'll be fine as far as that is concerned."

"Can't you give him something for the pain?" One look at him had been enough to tell her that he was still hurting badly. It didn't seem right for him to have to be in this much pain when the witch had the entire potions arsenal of the wizarding world at her disposal.

"Well, there are complications..." Pomfrey voice trailed off.

"What kind of complications?" Hannah asked warily.

"You do know that he was severely injured during the last battle?"

Hannah nodded. Yes, she did know that.

"Then you know that he never had a chance to heal right," Pomfrey continued. "Now he has re-injured the same area. Fractures in two places, across the pelvic bone and close to the knee. The break in the hip is particularly bad - the bone just shattered. I could patch him back up again, but it would be a bad job. There's simply too much damage. "

"So what does that mean?" She was holding his hand tightly between both of hers. She didn't like the sound of this at all. There had to be something they could do...

Pomfrey eyed him narrowly. "Skele-Gro Potion. Remove the damaged bones in the hip and his right leg, and regrow them healthy. It would effect a complete cure."

Hannah looked at her uneasily. "And the downside...?"

"Is that it is quite...uncomfortable. These are some of the largest, heaviest bones in the body. He would be in for an exceedingly rough night. Skele-Gro and pain potion do not get along. As a matter of fact, Skele-Gro and a majority of potions - or Muggle medications, for that matter - do not get along." Pomfrey paused. "But my point is that it can wait. It's not something we have to deal with right this second. Even if Mr. Contrary here doesn't agree." She looked at Snape with a pruned-up mouth. "I told him he should take something for the pain now, have a restful night, and in a few days, when his other injuries are healed, then do the procedure. It is uncomfortable enough without having all the other injuries and the residual effects from the Cruciatus to contend with as well."

"No," Severus said flatly.

"Why not?" Hannah asked. "It sounds reasonable."

"In case you forgot, I'm getting married on Saturday," he said dryly. "It will take at least two days until I'll be able to walk without aid. And I am not having someone help me up to the altar."

"We could just move the wedding back a week or two," she said. "That would give you time enough to recuperate."

"I am not letting them interfere with our wedding plans," he said, his voice hard. "We are getting married on Saturday."

Hannah looked up at Pomfrey. "Is it even possible?" she asked. "With all his injuries, is it even possible he'll be well enough on Saturday?"

Pomfrey threw him a measured look, her lips pressed together tightly. "Probably," she said begrudgingly. "Most of his other injuries are healed already. He has developed a certain...resilience to the effects of the Cruciatus curse. And once he takes the Skele-Gro, the new bones will form completely in about twelve hours. When that's over with, he can start taking the full potions regimen I would like him on right now. He might still be a little stiff, maybe have a headache, but yes, he'd probably be all right come Saturday."

There was glint of grim satisfaction in his black eyes at her words. That, and sheer determination.

Pomfrey had seen it, too. "Can't you talk him out of it?" She looked at Hannah in exasperation. "I really would rather have him wait. There's no reason for him to put himself through this right now."

Hannah cast a quick sideways glance at Severus' set face before giving the matron a lopsided smile. "It's his decision, I'm afraid." She couldn't really blame him for just wanting this over with as quickly and directly as possible, to have this chapter closed once and for all. That didn't mean she agreed - she didn't like the sound of "an exceedingly rough night"...not one little bit. But this was his decision to make.

Pomfrey heaved a sigh of surrender. "I suppose I'll get ready, then. If you'll excuse me...?"

When she had left the room, Hannah lightly touched Severus' face. "Are you certain you don't want to wait?"

"Quite." He reached up and brushed a finger against her cheek. "So how are you doing?"

She smiled a crooked smile at him. "Let's get you well first, and then we can worry about me."

"Your father died..."

"Yes. My father died." There was a hard edge to her voice.

"You told me it would still hurt to see him die, even if..."

"Don't," she interrupted him, her breaths coming quickly. "Severus, I watched him hurt you. Torture you, and enjoy every minute."

"He protected you from the dementor in the end. I can forgive him a lot for that." His fingers were cupping her chin.

"He would have killed you without a moment's hesitation. I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive him for that." Her voice was sharp and thin. She smiled a quick, flitting smile that didn't reach her eyes. "And I don't want to think about him right now." She leaned forward, running the tip of a finger over his cheek, her face softening. "There's someone vastly more important to think about at the moment. - So, really, how are you?"

"The pain is quite manageable." Which was a hazy approach to the truth - in spite of Pomfrey's best efforts, his leg still gave him quite a bit of pain, a constant dull throbbing punctuated by sharp, angry stabs. Not to mention that his head hurt, and most of the rest of his body was still raw from the Cruciatus and sensitive to the touch in all the places Pettigrew had "experimented." But she really didn't need to hear that.

"Hm..." She arched an eyebrow, a dubious expression on her face.

He gave her a quick, wry smile. "I told you, I'll live."

Right then, the door opened and Pomfrey bustled in, a tray with assorted beakers, potion bottles, and jars in her hands.

"If you are ready?" She looked at Severus, who in turn looked at Hannah.

"Get some rest," he said, caressing her face. "When you come back in the morning, I'll be much better."

She looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean? Come back?"

He hesitated. "I couldn't ask you to..." He knew that what Pomfrey meant by 'uncomfortable' was 'it'll hurt like hell.' There would be little sleep tonight. And he couldn't ask her to sit and watch him suffer again. She had done enough of that to last her a lifetime.

"I want to stay. You don't have to ask."

Pomfrey had turned and was ostensibly busying herself with the cabinet at the far side of the room.

"Hannah, I..."

"No," she interrupted him firmly. "Look, if you think you're doing me a favor by sending me away, you're wrong. It's actually about the worst thing you could do to me right now. So don't."

There was a short pause. It wasn't right. He should talk her out of this. He should send her away - even though the familiar mulish look on her face made him doubt that she would listen. And, Merlin, he wanted her to stay... "Are you certain?" he asked hesitantly.

Hannah leaned forward, taking his face in her hands. "You listen to me now, Severus Snape." There was a fierce look in her eyes. "Of course I am certain. I love you. Where else would I be?"

For a moment, he held her gaze. When she wouldn't drop her eyes, he finally nodded, his voice barely more than a whisper. "In that case...I think I wouldn't mind the company."

"Good," she said, and the timbre of her voice and the look in her eyes made tears prick at the back of his eyelids. He turned his head to where Madam Pomfrey still stood with her back to them. "We're ready whenever you are," he said in a bright, brittle voice.

She approached the bed, all professional bustle. "Well, then, let's get started."

Hannah took his hand again as Pomfrey pulled out her wand. "Is this going to hurt him?"

"No." The matron shook her head. "This part of the procedure will be blessedly pain-free."

Even so, his hand tightened around Hannah's as the matron removed the bones - it was a peculiar sensation to feel his hip and leg just sort of...deflate beneath the thin hospital gown.

The relief was immediate. He exhaled slowly as the relentless ache in his leg stopped from one second to the next. With the main source of pain gone for the moment, he felt almost comfortable. His head still hurt, and there was a queasy feeling in his stomach, but as long as he lay very still, the rest of his injuries didn't bother him too much. Slowly, his jaw unclenched.

"Are you all right?" Hannah asked, looking a little green around the gills.

"Fine," he answered, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

Expertly, Pomfrey filled a beaker from the large potion bottle; steam rose in curling tendrils as she brought it over to Severus. "Just for the record, I still think this is a bad idea."

"Duly noted," he said dryly. "Now, if you would...?"

Resignedly, Pomfrey handed him the beaker. "Very well, then. Here you are."

Hannah helped him lift his head, and he raised the beaker to his mouth with his good hand. The potion burned on the way down, choking him.

"Well, you have maybe an hour or so before you'll feel anything," Pomfrey said, taking the beaker as he sank back into the pillows. "Relax and try to get a bit of a nap. Heaven knows you won't get much sleep later."

She handed Hannah a jar of potion. "This needs to be rubbed into his shoulder and the wrist that was broken every couple hours or so. It'll help bring down the bruising and swelling. I assume you can handle that?" Hannah nodded. "While you're at it, put some on your face," Pomfrey continued. "That's a nasty bruise you got there. As a matter of fact..." She stretched out her hand and tilted Hannah's face up by the chin. A quick movement of the wand, a moment of intense heat, and Pomfrey nodded with satisfaction. "There, better. But you should still put some of that salve on it."

Hannah felt with her tongue - the cut in her lip had disappeared. She smiled gratefully at Pomfrey. "Thank you. - Anything else I should know?"

The witch pointed to the tray, now sitting on the bedside table. "Not much. Everything else will have to wait until the Skele-Gro has done its job. There's water, if he gets thirsty, and an emesis basin, should he...well, you know. I'll have some dinner brought up for you in a little while. Severus can have some soup and toast if he feels up to it. If you need me for any reason, just call me, I'll hear you. - Any more questions?"

"If Remus and Filius are still out there, would you tell them Severus will be all right and send them off?" Hannah asked. "I don't think there is anything else they can do."

Pomfrey nodded as she turned towards the door. "Right, then."

.-.-.-.

As the door closed behind her, Hannah turned back to Severus. "You heard her. You should try and sleep while you have a chance."

"I don't know if I can."

"Well," she said reasonably, "why don't you close your eyes and find out?"

He tried. But the effects of the concussion didn't allow for sleep - his thoughts kept running around in circles like crups chasing their tails. He simply couldn't concentrate long enough to keep them reined in.

Just a few moments later, he opened his eyes again. "It's no use," he said petulantly. "I can't sleep."

"What's wrong? Anything I can do?"

He made an irritable gesture. "No. It's just...never mind." He shifted his upper body a little, wincing as he did so. "So tell me, what happened after...your father took you?"

"He just kept me locked in a room until Pettigrew sent a Portkey." She smiled at him. "Other than being worried out of my wits about you, it was quite boring, really."

His lip curled down in a smirk. "So you got that bruise by being bored?"

She shrugged with a slight blush. "I tried to get away. It didn't work."

"I saw your father's face..."

"I told you," she interrupted him, "I don't want to talk about him right now." She leaned forward. "I did hear all about your adventures at the Ministry. Thank God you didn't just toss that paperclip into the nearest rubbish bin." A shudder ran through her. "So many ifs - if Tonks hadn't known the tracking spell, if you hadn't kept the paper clip, if McGonagall hadn't remembered..." She looked at him, the anguish of the last twenty-four hours reflected in her eyes. "It seems a miracle we made it."

Reaching for her hand, he stroked her fingers lightly with his thumb. She was right - it did seem like a miracle. His thumb brushed across her empty ring finger. "You seem to have misplaced some valuables."

There was a little choking noise before she answered. "Pettigrew took it from me, when we first got to the farmhouse. I don't know what they..."

"Shh." He put a finger against her lips. "Look in there." He pointed to the drawer in the bedside table.

With a questioning, suddenly hopeful look, she opened the drawer - and clapped her hand over her mouth, trying to hold back tears. "My ring! How did you...?" She took it out carefully, the green stone glittering in the light.

"Let me have your hand." Awkwardly, he took the ring from her and pushed it back into its proper place. "There," he said with satisfaction. "That's better."

"Much better." She smiled tremulously. "How did you get it?"

"Minerva didn't tell you?"

She shook her head. "They kept us separated much of the time. I only heard part of her story."

"They turned it into a Portkey." He ran his finger over the sparkling stone. "Sent it by owl. A handy way to convince me they had you and to get me where they wanted me, all at the same time."

"And you came." There was a soft, breaking note in her voice.

"I did not really have a choice."

"Yes." She put her hand on his forehead, brushing back his hair. "You did, love. You did have a choice." She seemed to be near tears again.

He looked at her with a smirk, glad for an opportunity to change the subject. "Is that what you plan on calling me from now on? Love?"

She gave him a small smile. "Sometimes. Do you mind? I'll stop if you do."

He thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "No. I don't mind." Out of all terms of endearment, she had chosen possibly the only one he could live with. All things considered, it wasn't such a bad thing, being someone's love.

"Good." She smiled again, bigger this time. "Then, love, I would really like you to try to go to sleep again, just for a little while."

"I told you, I can't..."

"Just close your eyes." She bent forward and kissed his eyelids. "Try and relax."

And this time, he found that he could focus on the touch of her hand, still stroking his hair, keeping his thoughts at bay with gentle rhythm. Within a couple of minutes, he was asleep.

.-.-.-.

He awoke some time later to a stinging, stabbing sensation in his leg, just as the door opened to admit Pomfrey, carrying a dinner tray.

"Well?" she asked. "Are you feeling anything yet? Did you have a nice nap?"

"Yes to both," he answered, blinking to regain clear thought.

She set the tray down. "I brought you dinner. There really isn't much I can do from now on, but I'll come in every hour or so to check on your progress." She turned to Hannah. "You will be staying?"

Hannah nodded. "Yes."

"Good." The matron gave a nod of satisfaction. "Lumos." She held the brightly lit wand in front of his eyes, watching his pupils contract. Then she ran her wand over his body, muttering what he assumed were diagnostic spells. When she was finished, she stood up straight. "As good as can be expected. I'll leave the two of you alone, then. Enjoy your dinner."

His stomach was still too queasy for the idea of food to sound appealing. He reluctantly downed a few spoonfuls of the soup just to make Hannah happy, and then watched her eat a light supper.

When she had finished and deposited the dishes outside the door to be picked up by a house-elf, she sat back down next to him and picked up the potion jar that Pomfrey had left with her. "Let me see your wrist. I might as well make myself useful." She took his right hand and ran a finger over his swollen joint. "Does it still hurt?"

"It's sore," he admitted.

With one finger, Hannah dipped some of the salve out of the jar that Pomfrey had given her.

"So what happened after I...left?" he asked as she rubbed the potion gently into his skin.

Hannah shrugged. "Not much. They took Pettigrew away to a Ministry holding cell. Davis - the Auror in charge, don't know if you remember - seemed hell-bent on finding some way to make what happened your fault. But really, there was too much evidence: our testimonies, all the wand tests.... He finally had to believe us. Tonks helped, too. I don't think you have to worry."

He looked unconvinced. "We'll see." She couldn't blame him for that - in his place, she would be worried, as well, until he had his wand back and was officially cleared of suspicion.

"I should put this on your shoulder, too. - Are you all right?" She gazed at him questioningly. He seemed a bit paler than he had been a minute ago.

"I'm fine," he said irritably. "Go ahead."

Reaching around behind his neck, she untied the bow that held the hospital gown together and pulled the sleeve down carefully.

She winced as she saw his shoulder. It sported a thick red welt where he had hit the stone wall; a dark bruise was already spreading underneath. By tomorrow, this would have turned all sorts of colors... Dipping more ointment out of the jar, she started working the potion into the damaged tissue as gently as she could. "Let me know if I'm hurting you..."

She averted her eyes as a faint blush crept into her cheeks, her breaths growing shallow and quick as her body responded to the feeling of his smooth skin beneath her fingers. Get a grip, she chastised herself as she massaged his shoulder. He's hurt, for crying out loud. But it felt good, touching him...

When she looked up again, a trace of pink still on her face, she saw that he had closed his eyes. There was a thin beading of sweat on his forehead. "Are you all right?" She bent over him with concern. "Severus?"

He didn't answer.

"Severus? What's wrong?"

Before she got an answer, he suddenly reached for the emesis basin, and she barely had time to help him turn and sit up a little before he was sick.

.-.-.-.

When she returned from emptying the basin a few minutes later, he lay with his head tilted back, the heel of his palm pressed against his temple.

She put the basin back on the bedside table. "That didn't help your headache at all, did it?" she asked.

"Not exactly," he said, his voice weak and surly.

She got up and walked over to the sink, retrieved a hand towel, wet it, and wrung it out. Gently, she placed the cold cloth against his forehead, pressing it into place with the flat of her hand.

"I feel so feeble," he said bitterly, his eyes closed, his mouth pulled down into a thin line.

"Don't," she said softly. "You're stronger than anyone I know."

He snorted contemptuously. Hannah looked at him with compassion. He had elevated independence to an art form, out of necessity - there had never been anyone for him to lean on. However bad the pain caused by the Skele-Gro might be, she thought that the fact that the procedure rendered him bed-bound, dependent on others for even his most basic needs, was the real reason he had not opted to undergo it before. It was so hard for him to accept help from anyone, even from her. And even harder to ask for it. She took his hand in hers. It was so cold...

"Severus..." she began hesitantly. How could she phrase this so he would hear her? "I want you to do something for me, if you would."

His eyebrows lifted in mockery, his mouth still settled into bitter, sour lines. "I hardly think I am in a position to..."

"Hush," she interrupted him gently. "Just listen for a moment." She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. "You asked me how I am doing. Truth is, I don't know right now. Everything is such a muddle. I was so scared today, Severus. It hurt so badly, thinking I was going to have to watch you die like that. And that if I wasn't a Squib, my father would not have been able to take me so easily, and you..." She stopped, wiping a tear away angrily. She hadn't meant to start crying.

"It wasn't your fault..." he began, and she stopped him again with a quick motion of her hand.

"And then to see you injured so badly and not be able to do a thing for you..." She swallowed, and then continued with a small smile. "Anyway...what I need is to feel useful right now. So please, if there is anything you want or need, tell me? I want to know how you are doing, if there is anything that might make you feel better or help you. Please, let me do for you what I can?" She touched his cheek lightly. "You're my family now. Let's get through this together. Please?"

He looked at her, a strange, tight expression on his face. "I'll try." His voice was hoarse.

She squeezed his hand tightly. "That's all I'm asking."

.-.-.-.

When he had been laid up in St. Mungo's, delirious with pain and fever, surrounded by hatred and apathy, he had daydreamed into existence some slip of a girl who would come and sit with him and put her hand on his brow and tell him to just hold on a little longer, that the pain would get better soon. He had felt weak and foolish, but his semi-conscious mind had imagined her so hard that sometimes he could almost feel her hand on his forehead. It was the only kindness and care he had received in that place.

And now there was Hannah. Real, warm, flesh and blood. She was better than anything he could have imagined. Most of the time he did not even have to ask as she anticipated his wishes, reading his face and body language to see what he needed - a drink of water, a cool cloth, a hand to support his head, the sound of her voice to distract him from the pain.

As the pain got worse, she cared for him - wiping the cold sweat from his face, massaging sore muscles, telling him how wonderful he was: gentle, soft, floating kinds of words, terms of endearment that at any other time would have been quickly shot down with a sarcastic comment, but that right then felt right; words where the tone of her voice and the expression on her face were more important than anything she said.

When the pain reached an intensity that didn't allow for casual touch or distraction any more, when all his energy was spent simply on enduring, she was still there, quietly, arms firmly wrapped around him, holding him, in a soft voice reminding him that the night would soon be over.

And when in the early morning hours he finally told her that the pain was letting up, that he was getting better, she said "Thank God" in a broken voice and kissed him. She was still there when some time later Pomfrey came in with a satisfied expression and an array of potions, and he was finally able to fall into an exhausted sleep.

.-.-.

A few hours later, when he awoke, the first thing he saw was Hannah. Leaning forward, using his bed as a headrest, she had fallen asleep with her head pillowed on her crossed arms. There were shadows under her eyes, her hair was a mess, and her mouth was still swollen and bruised where Hannigan had hit her. Even asleep, she looked worn out. He didn't want to wake her - she had been up all night - but suddenly he had to touch her. Reaching out a finger, he brushed it across her cheek as softly as he could. He pulled back in chagrin as she opened her eyes. For a moment she blinked, disoriented, and then smiled at him, with the look that was his - she didn't look at anyone else in the world like that.

Suddenly, a flood of emotion washed over him with such intensity that it left him dizzy and reeling, and he knew that right then and there the most butterfly-and-hearts-obsessed teenager in the school had nothing on him. His usually extensive vocabulary receded like the ocean at low tide, leaving him stranded high and dry, gasping for words and not finding any. Any, except three.

There must have been something showing on his face, because she looked questioningly at him as she sat up. "Is everything all right?"

"I love you," he said, and he sounded and looked so stunned that Hannah laughed as she leaned forward to kiss him. There were, she thought with a smile, few things in life more satisfying than watching the man you are about to marry realize he is in love with you.

"Of course you do," she said reasonably. "Do you think I would be marrying you if you didn't?"