Isn't He Lovely-Professor Snape

Year 6 Pt 4

A relentless pounding echoed through my skull, the throbbing sensation making it seem as if my head were engulfed in a maelstrom. Every inch of my body felt ablaze, a searing heat that clawed at my senses. In my struggle to regain consciousness, I made a feeble attempt to open my eyes, only to be met with an overwhelming heaviness in my eyelids.

Beneath the hazy fog that clouded my mind, I sensed the comforting weight of a blanket draped over me. The soft cotton brushed against my palm, a tangible connection to reality amid the disorienting haze. A deep groan involuntarily escaped my lips as I dared to move my fingers. To my dismay, they refused to respond, an unsettling numbness rendering them immobile. Despite the persistent effort to command even the slightest movement, my fingers remained unyielding, locked in a state of unresponsiveness.

The frustration of my paralyzed digits was eclipsed by an overpowering wave of exhaustion. The mere attempt to exert strength left me drained, the weariness pulling me back into the embrace of unconsciousness. As I succumbed to the enveloping darkness, the echoes of pain and the weight of my futile efforts lingered, creating an unsettling lull that carried me into a fitful slumber.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𓋼

The gentle warmth of sunbeams kissed my face, the comforting heat prompting an internal smile. Despite the residual pain coursing through my weakened body, the touch of sunlight offered a subtle reprieve. Confused and disoriented, I grappled with fragmented memories. Quidditch. The storm. Falling. I hoped fervently that our team emerged victorious.

Attempting to open my eyes proved futile once again, but the effort was interrupted by hushed whispers that infiltrated my consciousness.

"Will she ever wake up?"

"We're not sure. She hit her head very hard, and is in a coma. Without Professor Snape's help, she definitely wouldn't have made it."

The unfamiliar voices discussed my condition, and the revelation that Snape played a pivotal role in saving me left me both surprised and grateful. The voice then asked for alone time with me, which Pomfrey agreed.

Hermione's tearful voice broke the silence, "Hi Niamh, it's Hermione, Ron, and Harry. We miss you so much, and we want you to know we are here for you. Please wake up soon."

Desperation welled up within me, urging me to convey my gratitude, to let them know I cherished their presence. Struggling against my unresponsive hand, I yearned for a way to reassure them. Frustration heightened as my attempts faltered, but the shared warmth of their company remained a soothing balm to my isolated state.

The trio lingered, unwilling to part ways hastily. Hermione, ever the nurturing friend, whispered words of encouragement as she held my hand, "Niamh, we've been reading to you. You should have seen Ron trying to mimic different voices for the characters. It was quite entertaining."

Ron chimed in with a light-hearted tone, "Yeah, and Harry here has been giving you Quidditch updates, like you'd miss out on the latest scores."

Harry, though quieter, added, "We're all waiting for you to wake up, Niamh. Hogwarts just isn't the same without you."

As they conversed with me, their camaraderie became palpable, and the ambient chatter reflected their shared concern.

Among themselves, the trio exchanged words filled with hope and worry. "Do you think she heard us?" Hermione questioned, her eyes reflecting concern.

Ron, always trying to lighten the mood, responded, "She's got to wake up soon; we've got a Quidditch match coming up, and we need our chaser."

Harry, who was more reserved, expressed his own worries, "Madam Pomfrey said it's uncertain. We just have to be patient and hope for the best."

Their shared vigil continued for what felt like an eternity. The hospital wing, often a hub of activity, transformed into a haven of whispered conversations and tender moments. They stayed for a long time, keeping me company which I appreciated. When they left I felt empty once more.

Hours passed, and the solitude persisted, and I was in and out of consciousness. Suddenly, pronounced footsteps of someone disrupted the quiet.

"Anything?" he inquired, concern lacing his tone, which sounded like Snapes voice.

"No, her friends left a while ago. You can go see her again if you would like," Madam Pomfrey replied.

Snape's steps grew louder, finally reaching my bedside. The creak of the mattress signaled his seated presence, accompanied by a sigh.

"I brought you flowers," he whispered, his gentle touch enveloping my hand. His thumb traced soothing circles, a gesture that unexpectedly eased my pain.

Summoning every ounce of willpower, I attempted to move my hand, a silent plea for acknowledgment. Fingers twitched, and my thumb responded, rubbing against his hand.

He gasped, withdrawing his hand abruptly. "Poppy! Sh-she moved her hand!" he exclaimed.

Joy surged within me. Eager to replicate the movement, I fought against the encroaching fatigue. However, exhaustion prevailed, the rays of sunshine fading into darkness once more as I drifted into the realm of unconsciousness.