Sanguinem Maledicta

Epilogue

The sheets of the Asclepius Clinic in upstate New York were pristine. Perfect creases. There was not even a speck of dust to be found in the rooms. The beds, walls and furniture were all blindingly white and neatly straightened, just like the teeth of the American nurses and healers who flitted down the hall and tended to grin unrelentingly.

Severus was starkly out of place with his black robes and unapologetically dour expression.

Hermione felt equally foreign as she sat in her bed staring at the garden outside her window. She looked down at herself again and her toes scrunched under the sheets as she tried to relieve some of the vibrating tension trapped inside her. Her stomach was twisted into a multitude of anxious knots.

She pressed her right hand against her left forearm, but there was no comfort in the touch. The head healer at the clinic had placed a structured cast embedded with monitor spells on her arm upon their arrival the week before. There were diagnostic readings from it projected onto the wall beside her bed and Severus's eyes tended to be glued to them.

He was usually busy consulting with the doctors, adding his own helpful inputs to the research, along with the other experts there, but the little time Hermione spent awake, he made sure he was there beside her and tended to her needs.

Hermione looked down at her hands for several seconds before drawing a deep breath and looking up. Severus was sitting nearby, staring at her charts, still and impassive as a statue, apart from a little furrow in his brow.

Her lips moved, but it was as though there were iron bands locked around her chest, forcing out all the oxygen in her lungs. No sound came out.

She tried again, reaching out to touch his arm.

"Severus?"

He instantly turned to look at her, his black eyes locking on her face. Her throat thickened and she gripped his arm a little tighter.

"This is it," she finally managed to say. "Today's the day."

He gave an almost imperceptible nod, his expression steady. The drug trial was going to begin that day and Hermione was the first of the few who were to be injected with a serum they had prepared in the labs and they were going to monitor any developments during the next few days.

"Don't be scared...Everything will be allright." he assured.

She forced a smile. "Severus...if I don't-"

"Stop." he said, his voice turning cold.

She froze and stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. "No, I want to say this once. If this is the last time I speak to you, I want you to know-"

"Don't you say your goodbyes to me now...I don't want to hear it." His tone was implacable as he cut her off.

She swallowed and looked down, straightening the sleeves of her hospital robes. After a minute, she looked back up. He was still staring at her, his expression unrelentingly obstinate.

She drew a deep breath, her shoulders rising. "Don't you want to hear me say it once?"

"I don't want to hear anything from you now," he said, his voice forced. His expression was closed and his black eyes were intent.

Her chest tightened and she dug her fingers in against the hard material of the cast. "You can't just assume...I mean, statistically speaking, my odds are-"

"I'm well aware of how statistics work." he said, cutting her off. His eyes flashed with a slight irritation.

He stood abruptly, turning towards the door. Hermione's heart dropped and she thought he was going to walk out and leave her all alone.