Note: This is NOTHING like what I usually write. I threw this together in twenty minutes, because I was bored. It's certainly not the best that I can do, though I certainly adore Hermione/Severus. Also, as always, anything you do recognize probably belongs too J.K Rowling or Warner Brothers.

Tentative. She was always tentative when she came here, especially late at night. Hermione's footfalls were soft, almost unheard, as she made her way down staircase after staircase, towards the dungeons. The Marauder's map was clutched tightly in her hand, ensuring that neither Mrs. Norris nor Peeves were anywhere around. She had told Harry and Ron that she was going to the library. That was her usual excuse. They were never interested in following.

Finally, the sixteen year old reached her destination. Though she had no need to, manners and the anxiety in her skin forced Hermione to reach up and rap twice on the door. There was a pause, before a quiet voice droned, "Come in."

Silently, she shut the door behind her, and the Gryffindor felt her heart in her throat, her knees wobbling. She had told herself that she would not cry tonight. Even if he told her what she so desperately did not want to hear, she would not cry tonight. It was a promise to herself that she was sure she would break.

Looking back, this had all started out of nowhere, a year ago. A silly little fifteen year old girl, admitting her feelings to her harsh, cruel potions master. That same silly girl being met with an admittance of his own. They had spent so much time together, in hushed secrecy. The summer had been unbearable for her. And this year… So much was changing.

Severus had been honest with her, about everything. Had opened up and told her of his past, and his present. Hermione knew more about what was going on than anyone else of her age, though she kept his secrets close to her heart. All her time, it seemed, was spent crying. Crying because of what she knew was going to come, and crying because of the life that she wanted, and could never have. Harry, sweet, naïve, Harry, assumed it was all because of Ronald, and she let him assume as much. He would never approve of the one her heart truly ached for.

"Sit down, Miss Granger."

Looking around the bedchamber, decorated with only a bed, and a black, leather recliner, Hermione shuffled awkwardly to the chair, sitting herself down. He stood, hovering over her, his black eyes watching carefully. So unreadable was his face; she could never tell just what he was thinking.

"I'm glad that you came tonight."

"I almost didn't."

He paused, crossing and uncrossing his arms. A noise escaped his throat, almost as if he were feeling uncomfortable. Hermione couldn't imagine why. Wasn't it she that was being let go of?

"Then you know what I've brought you here for."

Yes, it was she that was being let go of.

"I have an idea…"

Severus sighed, sitting down carefully on the edge of the bed, and putting his head in his hands. "By this time tomorrow, Death Eaters will arrive in Hogwarts. Dumbledore has been made aware of the situation. I… will have to leave with them, Hermione. I will not be coming back."

She could feel herself shaking, and she did not respond.

"I am very sorry that it had to be this way…"

"We could find a way to make this work, Severus. We could be together, in the end."

As they looked at one another, a silent truth was passed between them. She was second place for him. A replacement for the one he had loved and lost. And for her, he was the very best of them. In the years to come, when she married another, she would do to them precisely what Snape had done to her. Reality was cold.

The pair did not speak for a long moment, and Hermione silently came to terms with the way that the world worked. She had thought, once, that Ron Weasley was her one great love. She had imagined that they would grow old together. Before her relationship with Severus, that had been the ultimate dream, of hers. But now… Now, she looked upon the possibility of that future with a quiet sadness. Ron had done nothing wrong, she knew, but when one tasted true happiness, anything less than that was difficult to face with a smile.

With a sigh, the girl rose, and nodded her understand. "I understand, professor. Forgive me for my outburst, which was rather immature of me. I will return to my room, now." She thought that she saw him wince at her formal response, but didn't stick around to wait.

When her hand reached the door, a single word made her freeze. "Hermione."

She did not turn, knowing that if she looked upon those eyes even once more, she was going to lose it. She was going to lose her mind if she had to see him, and know he would never be hers again. Arms wrapped around her waist, and a mouth descended to her ear, soft words tickling her, "We still have tonight. One last night, my Hermione…"

And though Hermione knew that she shouldn't, knew that it would only destroy her in the end, she turned into his touch. Tentative, very tentative, she offered her body up to him. One last time.