Hello Lovely Readers!

Hey guys. Here's the next bit. I think my characters might be a bit OOC here so just a bit of a warning for that. Otherwise, as always, enjoy your read!

ALSO! Just a reminder that the forum is still up and can be accessed through my profile. For those of you who have questions or theories, head over there! ESPECIALLY ANONYMOUS REVIEWERS! I don't know if you can access the forum or not but if you can, please post your questions there so I can actually answer them.

~VTM


Chapter Three: Pain

She walked swiftly through Diagon Alley that night with silent footsteps, seeking solace in the shadows of the many buildings and side streets. She used her keen lances to spy for any sudden movements, or worse, movements such as her own. Stealthy, lithe and secretive, the telltale movements of a spy. However when she saw nothing of the sort she still remained alert and focused to the tee. She knew that if any spies had been sent it would only be one and she would never know that he was there, lurking in the safety of the shadows just as she did. She knew him all too well. If he didn't want to be seen, if he didn't want to be heard, then he wouldn't.

So she moved on until she came to a stop upon seeing her destination and was suddenly hesitant. She would always remember her first time in that shop. She was too new to the world and so she didn't notice the air of power and danger that hung over the shelves, the weapons that sat upon them dormant and waiting for their masters to arrive. The second time she had arrived she had definitely felt it and had left with a weapon that was not her own. Now that weapon was broken and calling for another master. She knew that even if it were possible for it to be repaired it would never obey her commands again. She had betrayed it now. It would only ever take orders from another from then on. And now that she stood outside the place she was reluctant to go in, not knowing what she would be bestowed with next. She could only hope it would be what she was after. She moved forward and ignored the sound of the bell that hung over the door in favour of looking for the man who would make or break her future.

He came, slowly and hesitantly, forward from down the aisles but when he saw her, the hood of her black cloak raised to cover her face entirely and an air of secrecy and danger hanging around her person, his demeanor changed entirely. He immediately whipped out his wand and aimed it at her, his expression cold and fearless.

It was then that she realized what she must look like to him in this day and age.

"I'm not a Death Eater," she told him quietly.

"I know that," he said coldly, "You're something else."

"I don't understand."

"I always knew that I would see you again," he told her, "I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that it would not be our last meeting. I had hoped that it would be sooner rather than later and under better circumstances, however when news spread of your disappearance…it was obviously too late."

She stared at him for several minutes, making no attempt to defend herself as he drew nearer and nearer, his wand finally resting at her throat. He glared at her through strange blue eyes and did not falter when she did nothing but stare back.

"I'm not who you think I am," she told him softly, "I'm not a servant of the Dark Lord."

"No," he sneered in a voice that uncharacteristically unkind, "You are his silent partner, his bed warmer-"

She cut him off as her anger flared.

"I am nothing of the sort," she sneered, finally removing her hood and revealing to him what he had suspected all those many years ago. She was the same, exactly the same. Her hair was more of a mess perhaps than the silky mane that he remembered but she had no lines upon her face to show that she had aged the thirty years that she ought to.

She was the same.

He gaped at her for the longest time before finally finding the will to speak.

"Wh-where are you really from?" He asked quietly.

She hesitated for a moment but decided that there really was nothing holding her back now. She had spilled her guts to two other people, what harm could one more do?

"1998," she told him. He gasped at her again, lowering his wand without intention as she spoke again.

"I've come for your help," she told him, "Thirty years ago you sold me a wand and thirty years ago it broke in a nasty battle with one who shared the same core."

Olivander stared at her for several moments, his grizzled hair hanging slightly over his eyes.

"This battle was against He Who Must Not Be Named?" He asked.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"If it is a new wand you are after-"

"It isn't," she told him firmly, "I've found a wand that is more than willing to obey my commands. Coincidentally it is also a wand that you made and sold in my time, a wand that once belonged to a very dear friend."

"There were others who traveled with you?" He asked incredulously.

"My intentions in 1944 were very dangerous ones," she told him, "I couldn't carry them out on my own."

He seemed to scrutinize her once more as she stared back at him. Without him asking she withdrew the wand from her pocket and presented it to him. He examined it for only seconds before he spoke once more.

"Hawthorn and unicorn hair, 10 inches, reasonably springy," he muttered, "I made this wand only three days ago. The unicorn I retrieved the hair from was a reasonably proud creature and didn't take kindly to losing half of his tale."

"You won't sell it for another fourteen years," she told him as he handed it back to her.

"If it is not a wand you wish to procure then why is it you are here?" He asked.

She took a deep breath and presented him now with her broken wand…Harry's wand. It was completely snapped in half, the feather core almost sticking out from the wooden casing and the tip now emitting random red sparks every five seconds.

"Can this be repaired?" She asked.

He took it from her and looked over it with delicate care. His nimble fingers glided over the varnished wood right up until the split and then ran lightly over the phoenix feather core. She watched as he examined it with hope and interest and waited until he surfaced once more.

"It would be possible," he finally told her, "But it would take a lot of time and-"

"Money is no object," she told him as she threw a sack of galleons over the counter. It had been what was left of the money that Draco had given her to buy her last wand.

Olivander frowned.

"I was going to say patience," he told her, picking up the galleons and placing them back in her hand, "I don't want your money Miss Evans."

"That does not change the fact that I would prefer that you take it," she told him, "I'm putting you in a lot of danger by being here."

"My dear I was in much danger long before you arrived here," he told her with a bitter smile, "The Dark Lord has been watching me for the longest time. He feels that my skills in wand lore would be most useful to his side of the battle line. Money will not change that."

"It would give you the chance to run."

"And do I run Miss Evans?" He asked her, "Do I run away from him?"

She knew what he was asking and she felt no guilt in divulging this piece of information to him. It seemed that he had made up his mind long before she had arrived.

"No," she told him quietly, "You don't."

"Then why make the suggestion?"

"My own peace of mind," she said quietly, "If I give you the opportunity-"

"Then you feel you have no reason to be guilty if I am apprehended by the Dark Lord after this meeting," he finished for her, still keeping the bag in her hands, "You have nothing to feel guilty about regardless of whether I take this money or not."

She felt otherwise but said nothing and pocketed the galleons once more. Ollivander continued to examine the wand.

"You have another wand that now does your bidding," he commented as he looked at the phoenix feather poking out from the middle, "Why is it you want this one repaired?"

"That wand does not belong to me," she told him, "No matter how long I hold it, however much I use it, it will never be mine. Once you have repaired it I want you to keep it with you until its true owner comes to claim it."

"I see," he said, "And how will I know when its true owner has come to claim it?"

For the first time since entering the wand shop, for the first time since entering this decade, she cracked a small smile.

"You'll know him when you see him."

~O~

She apparated back to Hogwarts as soon as she could once the meeting was over, her heart still heavy but her conscience relatively clear. Harry would have his wand back soon enough and he would survive the years to come because of it.

She was rather adamant that if she could not save one friend then she would at least help another. It was abhorantly Gryffindor of her, but it was the least she could do to repent for her sins.

As she walked up to the gates of Hogwarts she thought of her many sins. She had dragged so many people into danger because she hadn't been strong enough. She had often wondered in the last twetny four hours whether Severus had been right in choosing her, whether he had made a good decision to intervene at all. Now that he had made this decision, now that they had done all that had been done there was no way of telling what would have happened had they stayed within the castle. There was no way things could go back to the way they were.

"Who goes there?"

She looked up at the gates to see a student on the other side. He had the hood of his Slytherin cloak raised but she could tell immediately by the voice who it was.

"Tell me," she said, not bothering to answer his question, "Why is it Albus Dumbledore has a student guarding the wards to the gates?"

"I'm simply minding them until Professor Slughorn gets back," he told her, "Who are you and what business do you have here?"

It was a lie and she knew it. She couldn't help but smirk beneath her hood as she gazed at him with his curtain of black hair, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight. She could quite easily have a lot of fun with this.

"Your professor is a fool to leave a mere boy in charge," she told him, "Who is to say a Death Eater would not come by?"

"Death Eaters don't venture near the school for fear of Dumbledore coming by," Severus sneered, "Honestly, don't you read?"

She smirked at him again and then proceeded to lower her hood. His expression instantly changed to one of surprise.

"My name is Hermione Evans," she told him, "And Albus Dumbledore is expecting my return."

He hesitated for a few moments but said nothing against her as she opened the gates to admit her. She gave him a small smile as she passed through the wards, feeling the familiar safety and comfort once more of Hogwarts. Then she stopped beside him and drank in his expression. It had gone from one of cold indifference to a look of the utmost respect.

"You shouldn't have let me in," she told him, peering up at him as he was still a foot taller than she, "I could in deed have been a Death Eater."

"If you were a Death Eater I would either have been dead by now or taken away," he told her simply. She brushed it off.

"Next time either ask for a password or ask a question that only the individual you are speaking to should know," she told him, "It should minimize your chances of letting in someone you shouldn't."

She then began to walk past him and as she did she felt his eyes following her. After only moments she heard him come running after her.

"Why did you tell me that?" He demanded, stepping in front of her to stop her from avoiding him.

"It is the truth," she told him simply and made to walk past but he stepped in front of her again.

"But why did you say it?" He said with a bit of an edge to his voice now.

"Is it simply not enough that I would want to see to your safety?" She asked.

"You don't even know me," he countered, "You owe me nothing. Why would you worry about my well being at all?"

It was in that moment that she remembered who she was talking to. This younger version of her companion did not know how to trust, didn't know the feeling of love from another person, at least not from anyone but his own mother. He had been taught to trust no one from the moment he was born.

It was for that reason that she extended her hand to him.

"Hermione Evans," she introduced herself.

"I know who you are," he told her bitingly, "People talk."

"Indeed they do," she smirked, "However your name has not yet reached my ears."

He hesitated for a few moments before taking her hand.

"Severus Snape," he said quietly.

"It is nice to meet you Mr Snape," she smiled, "Would you perhaps like to guide me back to the castle?"

He looked at her strangely again, as though she were the most mysterious person in the world. Clearly Hogwarts had lost its kindness and compassion since the last time she had been there.

But soon enough he offered his arm to her and she took it without hesitation. Regardless of what side this boy would choose in future she still trusted him with her life and would let him take her anywhere.

"So what year are you Mr Snape?" Hermione asked him after a few seconds of walking in silence.

"Seventh," he told her.

"And what classes are you taking?"

"Is that really your business?"

"No. I'm merely curious."

He hesitated.

"Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology and Potions."

She stared at him sideways.

"I do believe you have quite a few free periods there, Mr Snape," she told him.

"That is because I'm undertaking a Potions Apprenticeship this year," he informed her, "Professor Slughorn felt that I was ready last year but I could not under go the work until I was of age."

She smiled at him.

"That makes two of us then," she told him, "Professor Dumbledore has offered me the same position."

He stared at her completely wide eyed for a few moments until his senses came back to him and replaced his mask of indifference.

"I was under the impression that I would be doing this alone," he told her silkily.

"Well you would have if I had not landed in the…Great Hall…this morning," her smile faded as she remembered Draco's body lying in the Hospital Wing, waiting to be buried, his soul waiting to be sent on. She had to fight hard to calm herself when visions of what had happened earlier that day assaulted her mind. Severus noticed this instantly but said nothing to comfort her or console her. They simply kept walking as she tried very hard not to cry. It seemed he had no sense of what to do with this shattered perfect stranger.

With a deep breath she finally managed to pull herself together somewhat.

"The pain is just so…heavy," she whispered, "I don't know how to make it stop hurting."

"I'm the last person to ask," he said uncomfortably, choosing to stare straight ahead, "I've never lost anyone worth feeling pain over."

"Then you are lucky," she said with a sad smile as they finally came up to the doors, "I've lost far too many. To not have lost at all must be-"

"I never said that I had not lost," he told her coldly, "Simply that I have not lost anyone worth remembering."

She paused and looked at his stony face for a few moments before nodding.

"I see," she said as they opened the doors and walked inside. They stood there in the Entrance Hall for what seemed like an eternity before Hermione could take it no longer and broke eye contact.

"I had better be going," she told him, turning to move up the stairs, "It was nice meeting you Mr Snape. I look forward to working with you."

"You never answered my question."

She turned back to look at him in confusion.

"And what question is this?" She asked him softly.

"Why did you give me advice about safeguarding my person?" He asked her. To this she gave a sigh and a smile before heading up the top of the stairs.

"Perhaps one day I'll tell you," she said before heading towards her rooms once more, "Goodnight."

And she walked away leaving him with many questions buzzing inside his head. She walked quickly up to the seventh floor to where her old rooms had been made up for both herself and Severus. Albus had argued that they should sleep in separate areas of the castle to avoid suspicion of their relationship but they had both demanded to be placed in the same quarters. It was just safer that way while they were in this time. There was no telling what could happen.

"Where did you go?"

She almost jumped at the sound of the soft voice from the dark corner of the room. She took in as much air as possible before turning to the older Severus whose blond hair did nothing to abate his ability to hide in the darkness.

"I went to give Harry's wand back to Olivander," she whispered to him as she hung up her cloak, "He was the one who sent me the letter in 1945."

"What letter?" He asked, his voice still quiet. She knew the pain was still with him too just by the tone in his voice.

"I received a letter a about a week after I purchased that wand back in 1945," she told him quietly as she went to sit next to him in the darkness, "It said that a friend was there to help me if I needed it. I didn't know who it was at first but after a while it became obvious that it was Ollivander. He's the only one who could possibly have figured it out on his own. My visit to his shop tonight only confirmed it."

There was a small pause.

"You went on your own?" He asked.

She shrugged.

"Don't do it again," he whispered.

She nodded.

That was when the tears finally began to fall again. Silently at first until the pain took over and the sobbing began. She didn't expect him to hug her close but he did, muffling her sobs and holding her like he had so long ago when Rookwood had attacked her so violently. She felt differently to how she did then. This pain was different. It was heavy on her chest, searing in her throat, piercing to her heart. Back then she had just felt numb and that kind of pain was something she prayed she would never have to experience again.

"Will it ever stop?" She asked him in between sobs, "Will it ever get easier to let them all go?"

"No," he whispered, "It only gets worse," she let out a small wail, "And the pain never truly leaves. It will make you wonder why we try so hard but…"

"No," she shook her head and sniffed, trying to pull herself together, "I know why we try and I'll never stop trying. That part of this will never falter. I just wonder whether…"

"Whether it's all worth it," he finished for her, "Whether what we are doing is right, not for everyone else, but for us."

She let out a small watery laugh.

"It almost doesn't make sense," she told him, burying her head in his shoulder once more.

They stayed like that for the longest time, trying to draw some sense of comfort from one another but feeling none. After a while the tears once again subsided and she was able to think relatively clearly once more.

"We have to bury him," she whispered, "We have to give him a final resting place."

"Where?" He asked her, "We can't exactly put him in the Malfoy family cemetery."

She thought for a few moments before closing her eyes.

"I know where to go."