The Room of Lost Dreams

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Hermione was highly impressed. The Malfoys' fireplace didn't spin her around or make her feel as if she were being hoovered up. The flames faded gently into darkness and gently back into light, though she was now looking into a very different room. She stepped out into a well-appointed sitting room.

The chateau was decorated much more simply than the manor, and in a much more modern design of white, grey, and silver. Since there appeared to be nobody around, she left the sitting room and went out the door. She entered an elegant salon with wall-sized windows, through which she could see stars in the overhead sky. The squeak of her trainers on the hardwood floor echoed through the empty room. A long hallway could be seen at the end of the salon, and towards the end of it, she fancied she saw a dim light.

As she approached the light, she saw that it was coming from underneath a door. She could hear raised voices behind it, and a look through the keyhole confirmed that Lucius and a ratty-looking wizard were arguing loudly in French. Through the tiny aperture, she was just able to make out what was clearly one of Professor Snape's boots lying by the bed.

This was it. Now or never.

She turned the porcelain knob and slid noiselessly into the room. Neither man looked at her.

'Ah, cherie,' said Lucius. 'I didn't hear you leave. How is he?'

Hermione gulped. Professor Snape's robe and boots were on the bed, as was a large amount of blood, but he wasn't there.

'Uh-'

The confused syllable had hardly fallen from her lips when Lucius Malfoy spun around and hexed her. She leapt to the side and just avoided being Stunned. He flung another curse at her, but this time she was ready with Protego.

'Will you stop that?' she asked in exasperation, after knocking his curse to the side. 'I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm here to help Severus!'

A third curse died on his lips, and he stared at her in unflattering disbelief. 'I fear my ears may be suffering the ill effects of a curse,' he said at last. 'I could have sworn that one of Harry Potter's closest acquaintances, one who has somehow broken into my private estate, has come not to wreak her revenge on my family, but to offer assistance to a known Death Eater.'

'Severus Snape is no more Death Eater than I am,' she said crossly, 'And if you don't take me to him at once, he will die from blood loss.'

'You are meestaken, I theenk,' said the ratty wizard. 'I 'ave already given 'im enough Blood-Replenishing Potion to refill a 'ippogriff!'

'You bloody fool,' she whispered, paling. 'Didn't you know that he's under the influence of Draught of the Living Death?'

'But of course I deed!'

'Then why did you give him Blood-Replenishing Potion?' Hermione knew she was shouting, but she didn't care. 'Did you want him to suffer brain damage? Why didn't you use Sanguinus?'

The ratty wizard's face had turned crimson. 'You theenk I just 'appen to keep Sanguinus Solution around? This ees an emergency, and eef you 'ave nothing to contribute-'

He stopped midsentence when Hermione produced one of the flasks of Sanguinus that she'd taken from the hospital wing. 'You at least gave him a bezoar, I hope?'

His face turned even darker.

She turned to Lucius.

'Take me to him, Mr. Malfoy. I can save him.'

Lucius stared at her incredulously for a moment then gave an elegant shrug. 'This way, Miss Granger.'

He led Hermione to the back of the room, through a door into a palatial bathroom. There, hovering over a pool of steaming water, was the body of Severus Snape. He was completely nude, and his skin had an ashy pallor, far greyer than he had been in the appearance of death. His breathing was rapid and shallow.

Narcissa Malfoy knelt at his side, pressing a bloody towel to his neck. Hermione was relieved to see that the blood on the towel was thick and nearly black, a sign that the Draught of the Living Death had not completely worn off. However, there was only one way to find out for certain.

Her assessment of Professor Snape was interrupted by a furious hiss from Narcissa, who had noticed her presence. 'What in the Ninth Circle of Hells is she doing here? Come to gloat, have you, you filthy Mudblood?'

Hermione ignored her animosity and met her eye squarely. 'I've come to save your friend. Was Professor Snape dosed with the Blood Replenishing Potion before or after he started bleeding again?'

'Before,' said Lucius, before his wife could say anything else.

'How was it delivered, via injection or orally?'

'Orally. They sat him up and poured it down his throat. That was about fifteen minutes ago. He started bleeding almost immediately after ingesting the potion.'

Hermione felt limp with relief. 'We're not too late then, but we need to get the rest of that potion out of his stomach. This isn't going to be pleasant,' she said to Narcissa. 'You might want to stand back.'

'Lucius?'Narcissa's voice was dangerous..

'All will be well, my dear,' said Lucius, taking his wife's bloodstained hand and allowing Hermione to take her place at Severus's side.

Hermione lifted her wand and released the plug on the tub. As the water drained out, she turned to her hostess.

'He'll need to be facing downwards so he won't choke.'

Narcissa didn't look any happier about Hermione's presence, but she did as she was asked and rotated Snape's body. Hermione nodded her thanks, and with a grimace, stuck her hand between his lips and reached as far back down his throat as she could.

When her second knuckles had slid past his rear molars, she felt his body give a great heave. She hastily pulled her hand from his mouth, and Severus Snape vomited the contents of his stomach into the receding water of the tub. Hermione grinned upon realising that the potion he'd brought up was the same colour as undiluted Blood Replenisher, until the sour smell made her want to retch as well.

When his heaving had subsided, she cast Evanesco to clean up the remaining mess, though the foul smell lingered. She had but to meet Narcissa's eyes, and Snape's body rotated again, facing upwards, his feet slightly lower than his head. Hermione seized a bottle of Sanguinus Solution and poured it into his mouth.

It went down with little coaxing- the Living Death must nearly be out of his system for his reflexes to be working again, even sluggishly. But once the Draught wore off completely, his bleeding would be much worse. She had to act quickly.

Heedless of the curious looks of the others in the bathroom, she pulled out the curved needle and nylon thread that she'd taken from the infirmary. She thanked her lucky stars that Madam Pomfrey had taken Arthur Weasley's cure to heart and begun stocking the infirmary with Muggle supplies.

Her shaking hands were too unsteady to do the suturing by hand, so she used her wand to do the precise job of sewing the edges of the snake's bite together. In a small way, it allowed her the distance necessary in order to finish the job. Hermione's stomach had not yet settled, and the sight of the thread tugging at the delicate tissues of Snape's neck was not helping.

With each stitch, she made a tight knot, trying not to look at the torn edges of his skin or the blood slowly welling up from beneath. Fortunately, the puncture wounds were not large, and she only needed to use ten stitches to ensure that they were well and truly closed. She suspected she needn't have used so many, but with Nagini's bites one could not be too careful.

She sat back at last and wiped the dripping blood away from the wound to gauge how much blood was escaping. To her great relief, he didn't appear to be bleeding any longer, though she suspected that would change as the Draught wore off and the Sanguinus Solution took effect. However, if her sutures were sufficient, they would stop the worst of the bleeding.

Suddenly, the reality of what she had just done came crashing down on her, and Hermione fell forward and was violent sick into the Malfoys' bathtub. Darkness was hovering in her peripheral vision, and stars danced before her eyes.

'Give him the bezoar in my bag,' she whispered, gesturing feebly at it. Her last realisation before losing consciousness was that someone had put a damp flannel on the back of her neck.

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