Chapter 1

Severus's footsteps were muffled by the damp ground as he walked. His head was hung low and the cogitations of his mind were troubled. The darkness of his cloak was engulfed by the darkness surrounding him.

It was over.

The Dark had prevailed over light.

Few members of the Order who had survived had fled.

It had been ten days since Potter had met his demise.

His throat was parched but he had refrained from stopping at a local bar. He had to take all the precautions necessary for their safety. After a few minutes lapsed, he finally halted at the door of a ramshackle cottage. To an outsider, it would not be visible at all. It was protected by the Fidelius charm.

His coal black eyes moved over the rusted door knob and he ran his fingers over the coarse metal. The jagged surface was reminiscent of the bitterness ensconced in his heart.

As soon as he entered the sitting area, his obsidian eyes fell upon the solitary figure huddled near the stained window. The sound of his entrance caused her to look up and he could see flickering hope die in her eyes as soon as she saw him.

"It's over, Miss Granger," he said and sat down opposite to her in the dilapidated armchair that graced the fading interior of the room. She nodded dejectedly at his pronouncement and looked back at the stained window.

He could discern faint marks of recently shed tears.

"What next, Professor?" she enquired softly. He could sense a touch of hysteria in the melancholy refrains of her voice. He withdrew a brown package tucked inside his robes and placed it in his lap.

"We leave. Tomorrow," he informed and began to tear open the cheap paper. "We shall assume different identities and go south. The Dark Lord's forces are in a state of disarray. He may have defeated the Order but his own house is by no means organised. It should not be difficult to seek a quieter hamlet, somewhere south, where he would not strike for many years to come."

"So in essence, we will save our hides flee like cowards," she remarked bitterly.

"We have discussed this before, Miss Granger-" he began but she interrupted him.

"It doesn't obfuscate the fact that we are running away. They're all dead, Professor. I, at least, have no reason to live. I should be fighting until my last breath. I should not have hid here, with you no less, since Harry… ten days ago." She stood up suddenly and began to pace the rotting floor board. "It is treachery to leave his side when he's dead. Is there nothing that I can do?"'

Her question was rhetorical, he knew, and not aimed at him. Nevertheless, he replied.

"You do realise, with you celebrated intellect, that I have been making efforts to get in touch with the last surviving members of the Order." He shook his head and looked into the empty fireplace. "Not many survived and those who did have probably fled the country by now. No, Miss Granger, it is folly to linger here at the brink of destruction and wait for certain death to catch up with us. The sooner we leave, the colder our trail would be and it would make it extremely difficult for them to find us."

She said nothing for a while.

"Why did you save me, professor?"

He was surprised at her query.

He looked at the forlorn countenance of the girl before him and sighed.

"Do you regret being alive, Miss Granger?"

"Yes. It is hardest for those who live, is it not? The dead who lie rotting in their respective graves are at peace," she commented and accepted the ebony wand from him. He had taken great risks to acquire two wands for himself and her. "Even justice is denied to us. The murderers of our friends and allies march in victory on streets while we hide in grimy shelters."

Severus fingered the hawthorn wand in his palm and ignored her frenzied rant. It was best to not engage grieving people in arguments. Her questions, however, were valid and oddly reminiscent of the pangs of bereavement he had suffered a long time ago. He did not know why he had rescued her. When Potter had fallen, Severus had realised the futility of their endeavour. He had watched, as if in slow motion, Granger scream and stumble over a rock. She had literally fallen at his feet in her hurry to reach her deceased friend. Before either of the sides could comprehend the event, he had grabbed her and had run from the battle-field. His adversary, whom he had been combating for five minutes before Potter's fall, had fallen unconscious at the slight snap of Severus's fingers.

In some ways, he had had no option but to save her. He could not have left her to die when she lay at his feet. And whilst he had fled, he had hoped that others had done the same. He supposed they must have since he could find no trace, even in whispered mutterings around public houses, of the survivors. For ten days he had raked every nook of London, under disguise, to seek tidings. There were none to be had. The light had fallen irrevocably and the Dark Lord was consolidating his victories. Whilst there was still confusion and uproar among the common masses, they would have an effective cover. They would be able to leave without much suspicion.

Silence between them was broken by faint squeaks emerging from the floorboards underneath them. There were mice in the cottage.

"What about money?" she asked as she waved her wand in familiar patterns and tried to make the wand comply with her magic. He noticed how she shivered in her skin. He was too skilled a Legilimens to not be able to comprehend her mental state.

"We'll work," he drawled and snapped his fingers. The table lying before them was free of dust. "It is a Muggle village. Adapting to their way of life would be our best cover."

For the time being, he added in his mind.

He had every intention of carrying on the war he had waged against the despised Dark lord twenty years ago.

He could still smell the soft, lavender scent of Lily's skin and in his mind, until he was dead, he was fated to fight.

He had escaped only so that he would live to battle again.

They moved furtively through the thickly crowded streets. It was raining heavily and Hermione kept her head shrouded so that she would not be recognised easily. There were in the streets of Muggle London and she was well versed with the roads and streets. Her experience, however, was not called for. The Professor was extremely familiar to their surroundings. His black cloak billowed and slashed at the air behind him as he wove in an out of the crowd.

The evenings were always mournful.

But the darkness lent them anonymity.

"Why are we boarding a bus?" she hissed under her breath. He seemed not to hear her and beckoned her to keep moving. There were a great many vagabonds and thieves about. She could see their crooked smiles glistening with lust and greed. Why he had chosen this particular street, she could not fathom. In any case, he was moving far too quickly and she was finding it difficult to keep pace with his long strides.

There was this ever present, twisting, writhing pain in her chest that swallowed most of her thoughts. It subsumed her being and she had to fight valiantly to not break down and give up. It had taken all her strength to keep her sanity and will to live ever since… No, she must not think of it. She had to be strong. She would find a way.

She would not let Harry's death be in vain.

"Ouch!" she yelped as a burly man, under the pretence of squeezing through the scant space, groped at her. She pushed his hands off herself and gave him a shove but he caught her by the waist and pressed her against the wall.

"Give us a kiss, lass, and I'll let you run," he slurred and pushed against her stomach.

She froze for a moment.

She blinked and curled her hands into fists as the man brought his wet and dripping tongue close to her face. But before she could hit him and be done with his depravity, a black figure swooped down on the man from behind.

"Let her go or I will twist your neck and leave you to perish," he murmured softly and Hermione noticed Severus's long fingers twist around her assailant's neck. The ugly man's grip on her loosened and she wriggled out of his way. Her wrists stung and she thought she must have bruised. As she looked, Severus snapped his fingers and hit the man in the back of his head.

No one noticed a body fall down.

"Stay close. We must not delay any longer," he growled at her and caught her wrist, yanking her away from the general crowd and passed under a dark passageway. She fumed at his words. One would think she had wanted that dastardly man to accost and grope her.

"In here." He motioned towards the station gate. Her hand still rested protectively enclosed in his. The rain made it difficult for her to see beyond a few feet but the buses were conspicuous by their blazing headlights. She literally stumbled across the drenched pavement as he dragged her after him and was panting by the time they reached the bus.

There weren't many people inside and she heaved a sigh of relief when he let go of her hand and directed her to a seat that was farthest from prying eyes. She shrugged some wetness off herself and was immediately pinned with an admonishing glare from his side.

"I'm wet, Professor," she reasoned. "If I don't get dried up, I will catch a cold before we even reach there."

At her answer, he turned his head and looked out of the window. The falling darkness was comforting for it provided them shelter. She grabbed a fistful of her clothes in her hand and squeezed it. The dripping sound of water made him turn his head in her direction.

She bit her lip and tried not to look his way.

Suddenly, she thought she heard his fingers snap and lo!

Her clothes were dry.

"I thought we weren't supposed to use magic," she commented dryly and placed her bag between her legs. Her wand was carefully hidden in its sheath which was strapped to her right arm.

"A little louder and I'm sure the place would be teeming with our enemies," he spoke through gritted teeth. His voice was low and his tone measured but she could see that he was annoyed. "Now sit silently and look normal. And do not call me 'Professor' from here on. It will attract undue attention, something we are rather keen on avoiding."

After this, Hermione spoke nothing and stared straight ahead. A few people threw her curious looks but she refrained from glaring at them.

She did not know where they were going but as long as there was hope of regrouping and fighting, she was willing to take any risk. Moreover, she did trust the professor seated beside her. He would not take a chance if there was no hope.

There was hope still.

As long as life remained, they could fight.

And fight they would.

It was a small house. The paint was chapped in several places and grime on the floor stuck like vice to the surface but taken altogether, the place could be made habitable. Severus ran his finger over the dust filled counter and looked straight at the beady-eyed man in front of them. Hermione was examining a few discoloured pots that lay near the window.

"This will do very well, Mr Wells," he said smoothly and stuck out his thin hand. The older man grasped it eagerly and put down the keys on the counter. "Now if you will excuse us, we should get started on cleaning."

Severus's words made it quite apparent that he wanted the man gone but Mr Wells did not take the hint.

"Is she your girlfriend?" He quirked his eyebrows towards Hermione and asked.

"What?"

The man was unfazed by Severus's hostile look and seemed rather intent on pressing. Hermione was out of earshot and for this, Severus was thankful.

"She don't look like a relative and I don't see no ring on the finger." He prodded his own finger and looked at Severus expectantly. For a moment, Severus panicked at the man's question. But it was not for nothing that he had been a spy. This question, though innocent, could prove to be dangerous in future if he did not settle it.

He needed to deal with it.

"She's my wife," he agreed and shot her a quick look. Thankfully, she hadn't looked their way. "Our rings are at the jewellers for polishing. I'm sure you understand how it is with women and trinkets…"

Wells nodded briefly as his eyes flickered over to Hermione. "You'll be needing the furniture, of course? I know a chap just around the corner. Be glad to supply you with it."

Severus looked at the lease papers moodily as he signed them. "Of course," he said absently and stared out of the window. "If you will be so kind as to excuse us, Mr Wells, we really must get our house in order."

"Sure Sure." The man nodded vigorously and gave him a toothy grin before he let himself out of the back door. He stared hard at the table in front of him.

Hermione had told him of the Horcruxes.

They had destroyed all, including the one in Potter's body. Nagini was dead and Hermione had personally attested to having destroyed all the others. Then why…?

Why had the Dark Lord not perished as he ought to have?

What had kept him alive?

Horcruxes…

Or could it be that he was truly mortal again?

No, his curse had rebounded off Potter once more. He should have been slain.

Unless… There was something else.

Something that had been overlooked by everyone else.

"I can't do this anymore." Her trembling voice interrupted his thoughts and he was forced to look down at the girl who had collapsed on the floor. What was she doing sitting in dust?

She was crying.

"Pull yourself together, Miss Granger," he snapped and turned away from her. "You do more harm to yourself than good by giving in like this."

"Giving in?" she snarled and he heard the distinct stamping of foot. So she had stood up. "My parents are dead. Harry is dead and the fate of others remains unknown. I haven't allowed myself any time to grieve over the death of my best friend and you have the audacity to stand there and tell me I do more harm than good! What have you lost, Professor?"

He cursed inwardly. He did not like dealing with hysterical women. Moreover, he was weary and had been so for the last ten days. He did not need this.

In any case, he needed to see this furniture chap and sort out the deal.

"You will talk to me with respect, Miss Granger, and until you learn to abide by those rules, I suggest you keep your mouth shut," he warned her quietly, not raising his voice above a whisper and slammed the door shut behind him.

She scrubbed the floor vigorously, hoping to drown out the numerous voices in her head that screamed at her. The Professor had been gone for more than five hours by that time. She wondered if he would return at all.

A simple look around the small house had reminded her of her parents. They had been slaughtered mercilessly the previous year.

Sometimes, and she had had very little time to grow accustomed to it, everything was too much altogether. It had taken her an entire day to get the grime off the floor. Only a little patch was left and then she would begin with the counters and move over to other rooms.

The house had to be made habitable.

"What are you doing?"

She hadn't heard him arrive. Without deigning to glance at him, she continued her scrubbing.

"Step away from the floor, Miss Granger," he ordered but she ignored him. Finally, after about a minute in which she could feel his menacing glare piercing the back of her head, she heard him snap his fingers. This time, she looked up. All the counters and widows were clean.

Sparkling clean.

"Again, I thought we were not allowed to use magic," she bit out at him and threw the washcloth unceremoniously on the floor. "You're breaking your own rules."

She felt like punching him when he sneered at her.

"I said we are not to use our wands except in case of extreme emergencies. And as you can see, I did not use my wand," he chided her and looked over her unkempt state. "Get cleaned up, Miss Granger. It will not take me more than a few minutes to get this house in order."

"Fine." She put as much cold and frost as she could into her voice but it had little effect on him. Before she exited the door, however, she halted and looked at the tall man standing behind the stove and turning its knobs. "Why did you lie to that man about our relationship?"

The question had been bothering her for quite some time now and she needed to know.

She even felt affronted that the man had taken his word at face value.

For heaven's sake, she was young enough to be his daughter.

"It seemed to be the best alternative in our condition. Men try to solicit single girls' attention rather frequently and we could ill afford the attention," he supplied smoothly and looked straight into her eyes. "We want to be left alone, Miss Granger, for the most part. Remember that."

"We'll fight, won't we? This is just a temporary setback, isn't it?" she asked him directly. "All this.. is for preparation, is it not? We will fight against them…"

She saw his lips part slightly as his eyes took in her flushed countenance.

"Until the very last breath, Miss Granger," he said quietly and went back to examining the stove.

She looked down at the floor and shut the door quietly behind her.

She had always believed that being good was all that mattered and everything would sort itself.

Probably not.

Besides, she had a goal to accomplish.

For as long as there was even an iota of breath left in her lungs, she would not let Harry's sacrifice go waste.

Leave a little review and I shall write more.