J.K. Rowling owns all characters, and this work produces no profit.

Severus II

"This setup distills the Ashwinder eggs more efficiently than we ever learned in class," Hermione notes. I smile in agreement and gesture to the next assemblage of equipment. "That's only the first step...look at this! I've done something nobody has ever done before. The distilled essence of Ashwinder is now being combined with the phoenix scale residue."

Hermione instinctively takes a step back from the bench. "You're kidding. That combination is so volatile! It could eat through anything, or blow the whole school up! How the hell are you keeping it stable? And why would you even think of doing this, let alone in Hogwarts?"

I lean down to kiss her forehead, careful not to touch her with my dragonhide gloves. Apparently even the Benevolus spell can't completely eradicate her tendency to point out danger or error...nor would I want it to. "I know, but don't worry, my love. The wards on my lab are unspeakably strong...the strongest ones in the wizarding world. They could probably contain a nuclear explosion. I wouldn't endanger the school. As to why..."

Hesitating, I think fast. It would feel so good to tell someone, and her opinions would be useful...and after all, I'll be Obliviating her as usual. "As to why...well, basically, I'm going to kill the Dark Lord. Soon."

Silence.

She just cocks an eyebrow and does some thinking of her own. When she notices I'm getting uncomfortable with the quiet, she smiles at me and says, "I know you can succeed at anything you set out to do, Severus! I would love it to be soon. I want him dead; I want all of them dead so they can never hurt you again. But Severus...I should tell you; there are things you might not know that could impact this." There's a subtle tension in her body as she speaks, and I can tell something is struggling against the Benevolus.

"Let's take a break, Hermione. I'm a little tired and hungry." She follows me back into my chambers, falling for the obvious subject change as she never would if not bespelled. After tea and biscuits, and some lighter conversation during which she teases me about my mastery of wards and the "foolish wand waving" involved, I lead the subject back to my statement about killing Voldemort. "Hermione, are you worried about the prophecy?"

She looks relieved. "You already know about that? I wanted to tell you, but Harry had asked me to keep the secret, and I didn't know what to do..." she is cut off as I kneel in front of her and take her hands in mine. "Of course you wouldn't betray someone's trust. You're a loyal friend, Hermione; never feel guilty about that. But understand that I know all about it-including the Horcruxes." Her eyes widen. "But Severus...how can you kill him, then? Besides, if you try and fail, I can't bear to think of what he would do to you."

Laying a kiss on her hand, I look up into her concerned face. "Hermione, I promise I won't try it until I have all aspects of the plan worked out perfectly. But I have to try! People are dying. Not even Dumbledore knows how many; especially the Muggles being killed almost daily for entertainment. I see it at each meeting; sometimes I have to do it myself to maintain my role! I often manage to give them a quicker death, but that's not good enough. Dumbledore doesn't understand, and he doesn't want to. His faith in his own interpretation of that damned prophecy has closed his mind."

She takes a deep breath, her somewhat blind trust in Dumbledore warring with the drive to say, do, be whatever I most need. "Then tell me what you think, my love. I'm listening."

I fight off a wash of feeling at the perfection of that response. "All right, we know that while any Horcrux still exists Voldemort can't die completely, right? A piece of his spirit will linger." She nods. "That's what happened when his spell rebounded from Potter; a piece of him existed with no body until, many years later, he managed to possess Quirell and begin his journey back." She nods acknowledgement again. "Now, here's the important thing, Hermione. During those years, was he killing anyone?"

"Well, no. He wasn't doing much until about five years ago..." she trails off as the light dawns. I grin, relieved; someone understands. I knew she would. Gods, I love your logical mind, know-it-all. I love...

"You've got it, Hermione. What makes more sense...going on a dangerous, uncertain scavenger hunt for months or years while Voldemort wreaks havoc...or killing him well enough to make him powerless and then cleaning up the Horcruxes? For all we know, the prophecy just means Potter will be instrumental in finding or defeating those." The expression on her face as she looks down at me is one I want to remember in my last moments. "Severus, I can't believe I didn't think of that. This means he can be stopped...Harry can be safe! He doesn't have to do some epic duel with Voldemort." She cradles my face in her hands and leans to kiss my cheek. "Thank you, my love. You've given me hope. You've done so much for all of us."

Guilt constricts my throat even as I bask in her praise, but I don't have long to dwell on it. Hermione gently pushes me back to my own chair, draws her legs up under her, and fixes me with the alert stare I know so well from class. "Now, let's hear about this crazy potion of yours."

So I explain everything. I spill it out gladly, reveling in her interest and her responsiveness. I tell her how for years I've been studying Muggle biochemistry, learning things no other potions master would think worthy of exploring. How it taught me ways of using hydrophobic molecules to encapsulate other molecules, and the experiments that led to creating "impossible" potions that remain stable. How I have, while hiding my research and pretending my only roles were disgruntled teacher and Dumbledore's spy, created a new field of combining potions and spells.

"The beauty of it is that I don't have to get the potion into Voldemort himself...his level of magic might be able to detect it in any potion he drinks. Too uncertain. What I have to do is slip the potion to one of the senior Death Eaters, away from the meetings, and use a spell to trigger the reaction at the right time. Lucius almost always stands close to him during meetings, as does Bellatrix. And if I can't get it into any of them, I could always drink it myself..."

I'm abruptly smothered in warm woman, as Hermione throws herself into my lap and wraps her arms around me fiercely. "Severus, you will do no such thing! You will not. Promise me, promise me right now, do you hear me? You will not throw yourself away. You're going to live, and heal, and change the fucking world with your research. The name of Severus Snape will be remembered as the slayer of Voldemort and the pioneer of a new era in potions. That is what is going to happen."

Adjusting her weight, I rock her softly in my arms, murmuring reassurances that calm her for the moment. We drift into silence, and I let myself be comforted by the warmth of her flesh against mine, the softness of her hair against my chin. I let myself believe that I'll be wept over, or even that there might be something waiting for me other than the very special potion I have prepared for myself, in case I do survive. I doubt I'll be needed for the Horcrux hunt, and that could go on for years. No, my "reward" waits in its warded box on a lab shelf, visible to me each day as I work. Reminding me that it won't be long now before my unforgivable acts are drowned in blackness at last.