Never Letting Go (Draft)

Chapter Thirty-Six

- No Worse for Wear -

The room went silent. The only sound was of the beeping monitor at Snape's bedside, his eyes were nearly saucers. Hermione Granger. The name brought back so many memories that he not only forgot, but remembers. Hermione Granger, the girl- no woman, that he had become incredibly close to these past few months. It was hard for him to see the student and the woman as the same person. They were so different, yet in the same aspect, exactly the same. He didn't know what to think, of this woman, who had spent years looking for him, the girl, the student, the same insufferable know-it-all he was not fond of when he taught her.

There was some inexplicable emotions running through his heart in this moment. First was anger, then shock, and finally an overwhelming emotion that he can only explain as heavy affection. This student of his, Miss Granger, for whatever reason, spent her entire adult life devoted to a search for him. This girl, the girl that annoyed and pestered him with questions and answers in class, was now a strong, independent, smart, beautiful woman.

"Miss Granger?" He spoke, finally finding his voice, mastering his facial expression into one completely impassive and it fooled the two healers, but not his co-worker, who eyed him with amusement and curiosity.

"Well of course, you should know better than anyone about her capacity for knowledge," The taller healer said oblivious to Snape's turmoiled thoughts.

Snape's head snapped instantly in the direction of the healer, a sneer growing on his face. "And how exactly, am I to know?" He asked in sudden defense.

"Well because you were her potions professor of course." the healer said with a nervous laugh.

Snape relaxed then.

"Severus, I assure you Miss Granger is plenty capable of holding her own when it comes to Potions, she was nominated for the award about ten years ago." Minerva said, cutting in to ease the dark wizards worries.

"Nominated, that doesn't mean-" Snape began but was cut off.

"She won as well, Mr. Snape, although the lass was much to busy with some work to receive it at the nomination party, which she didn't attend, the prize is in her name at the ministry." One of the healers said, looking over his monitor while checking away something on his clipboard.

"She never took the trophy home?" Snape asked, furrowing his brows.

"She didn't want it, said it belonged at the ministry where it could be seen." Minerva said, eyeing the Potions Master curiously.

"Where is she now?" He dared to ask, his eyes moving over the three other magical beings in the room.

"Home I suppose, after we released her she left in a bit of a rush." One healer said, pulling the sheet up on Snape's bed to have a look at his wounded leg.

After the two healers we're finally able to administer the stubborn wizards potions, they left the room, leaving Minerva McGonagall and Snape alone.

The room was deathly silent. Neither one of them moved to break it either.

Snape's eyes were blankly ahead of him, not daring to meet those of the Headmistress'.

"Severus,"

"How is she, Minerva," He cut her off, his eyes finally meeting hers and there was something soft, something that looked to be worry and concern there in his gaze, "Is she well?"

Minerva broke his gaze and looked to her hands where she fiddled with a stray string on her robes.

"She's doing just fine, she's only worried,"