Author's Note: Hello! Long time no update! I was dealing with a couple other fics and the QLFC of doom (which is now over, thank the stars). Anyway, expect more regular updates, so please keep your eyes peeled.


Chapter 7: In the Face of Failure

"It's no use!" Hermione's voice wavered, her eyes going blurry with tears. She fell onto her knees and nearly dropped her wand as feelings of hopelessness filled her chest.

Both she and Severus had been trying all of their happy memories for the past twenty minutes, and yet, no Patronus had appeared. One of his tries had produced a nebulous ball of light, but it was a far cry from the corporeal Patronus that Hermione knew he was capable of making.

"It's fine, it's fine," Severus said, running over to her and offering his hand, "Maybe we just need to rest. Cat naps really aren't helping either of us."

"How long?" Hermione said tearfully.

"What?" Severus replied, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"How long have you been unable to summon a corporeal Patronus?"

He looked away.

"It's...been a couple months since...it happened...since I've needed to…but that doesn't mean anything..." he mumbled.

"I don't understand it," Hermione continued tearfully, "I was able to summon a Patronus in the middle of a battle against a hundred dementors and yet...I wasn't able to banish one by itself the other day in the forest."

"How long has it been since the battle?" Severus asked quietly.

"A...couple of months…" she replied, staring at the ground.

"And have you sent a Patronus lately?"

Hermione shook her head back and forth as she wiped at her eyes.

"Hermione." The sound of her name in his tone of voice was gentle and she couldn't help but look up at him with a decidedly unattractive snuffling noise.

"W...what?"

"Come on. I'll fix you something."

Hermione blinked. Even though he was skittish and obviously not very familiar with kindness, he was still standing there with his hand extended to help her up and a decidedly sympathetic look in his dark, dark eyes.

"I'm...I'm not very hungry…" Hermione stammered.

"I know. I don't eat a lot when I'm upset, either," Severus replied with a shrug, "but it doesn't make it somehow less bad for you. It's easy to justify it to myself, but...for some reason, I...can't bear to see you hurting yourself. So, please. Just humor me, won't you?"

Hermione nodded and took his hand. Even though he was so thin and lanky, he was surprisingly strong. He pulled her up with little effort and she allowed him to lead her back into the tent again.

"Oh! S...sorry…" he stuttered when he realized that he was still holding her hand, but she shook her head and squeezed his fingers gently.

"Actually...I...like it...that is, if you don't mind. Your hand is, um, warm, and..." Hermione said bashfully, her cheeks growing hot.

His eyes narrowed for a moment as though debating the truth of her words, but when he saw the look on her face, his expression softened and she could see a flush rising on his cheeks as well.

They reached the small kitchenette and Severus stared expectantly at the beaded handbag, which was still sitting on the table. Hermione opened it up and summoned the food items she'd stored within.

"There isn't a lot of food, and it's all been placed under Stasis charms, so the flavor isn't the best," Hermione started, staring at the items on the table as though they were utterly unappetizing, "but I'm just...I've never had much interest in cooking even when I'm not feeling like the heel of a shoe. So, as you can probably guess, right now, I feel like buttered toast is beyond me."

"Wow, that bad, eh?" Severus said sympathetically as he picked up some carrots and parsley, "Do you...want to talk about it? I'm not very good at giving advice, but I've been told I'm a pretty good listener."

"Are you sure?" Hermione folded her arms on the table and rested the side of her cheek on them with a deep sigh.

"If that sigh is indicative of anything, it's probably worth a try at the very least," he replied, turning towards the little cupboards near the wood stove to grab a pot and a sauce pan. "Oh, right, where are the knives? I will need to dice up these vegetables finely if I want the soup to turn out well."

"Over in the top drawer. And the ladles and wooden spoons are in the one underneath it," Hermione said, watching him get acquainted with the kitchen. "I guess...I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to say. I've been feeling pretty numb lately, I guess, but isn't that sort of normal for having been in a war? I mean, it would be kind of disrespectful if I were dancing and smiling down the halls when a lot of people are still planning funerals."

Severus looked at her from over the top of the stack of bowls and tools he was lifting up onto the table but said nothing.

"And...anyway...I guess, I just feel like my problems are simply less important than everyone else's," Hermione continued awkwardly, drawing her arms around herself as though staving off the cold, "There are so many names that I need to remember. I can't forget them. I refuse to do it. If I forget them, then maybe it means…"

"...That maybe you're betraying them. That if you stop feeling awful, that it must mean you didn't learn from your mistakes." Severus said softly.

Hermione looked up at him with an anxious expression, her teeth pulling at her bottom lip slightly.

"How did you..?" she started and he smiled sadly, his eyes growing distant as he looked past her as though pulling memories up in front of them.

"You know about Lily, so you must know how our friendship ended," he said, his voice nearly a whisper, "I was...a bad friend. And then I betrayed her even before I knew that I had done it. In the end, I was left feeling like I'd been made a fool by the universe's cruel joke. It didn't matter what I did to atone. She was lost. I made the mistake of trying to forget her before, and it only brought me pain. And so now, I shall never waver in holding onto that memory until I can do what must be done to protect her child."

"She's your Patronus memory, isn't she?" Hermione replied, feeling a strange stirring of envy in her belly. She'd never thought much about Harry's mother other than the vague sadness one feels upon learning that Harry had been orphaned at such a young age. The idea that a dead woman could inspire such devotion made her heart ache for Severus.

"She...was...but now…" He looked away and began dropping vegetables into the colander methodically, as though he were avoiding saying more by pretending to be busy.

"Mine was my first memory of doing magic, of knowing what it was," Hermione replied, looking wistful. "Now, though, it's simply not enough. I think it has to do with seeing the destruction and pain that magic can cause firsthand."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful.

"You can't feel bad forever, though, Hermione. It will eat you up inside. I've seen what sorrow and bitterness can do to someone over the years. Trust me, it isn't pretty."

Hermione let out a bark of rueful laughter and shook her head slowly.

"You do know that's rather ironic, coming from you of all people," she replied, her voice rougher than she'd intended it to be.

"And you know this because?" His eyes had darkened and Hermione was not sure if he was hurt by her thoughtless words or filling with anger.

"You became a bitter man, Severus," Hermione replied, her voice growing soft. "There were times when I could see the pain you were carrying, but most of it was hidden under layers of snark and nastiness."

"Hah. I guess that does sound like me," he replied, his expression growing morose.

"You don't have to become that man, Severus," Hermione said, her eyes full of sympathy.

"Perhaps you should focus on fixing your own problems before you presume to give me advice," Severus said bitterly, abruptly turning away from her to wash the vegetables.

Hermione was stung by his remark and she frowned but she bit back the retort before she could blurt it out. His shoulders were slumped in a defeated manner and his head was drooped forward over the sink and she could tell by the way that he clung to the corner of the counter that her words had hurt him terribly.

After a long silence, the only sounds being the spray of water and the clank and hiss of wood being loaded into the oven and ignited, Hermione finally gathered the courage to speak.

"Severus," she said softly, "Please. Look at me."

He turned to look at her, colander held frozen in one hand as he held it dripping over the sink.

"I cannot begin to imagine what you've gone through," she continued, "but I do know that there must be a reason that I have been given this opportunity."

"And what sort of opportunity is that?" he replied waspishly, giving the colander a final shake and bringing it over to the table where he began to pull various vegetables and dice them into tiny pieces on the cutting board he'd prepared earlier.

Hermione admired how precise his movements were with the knife. There was a graceful, flowing motion in his fingers and hands as he works and it was mesmerizing. The constant sound of knife slicing through and whacking hollowly against the wood was soothing in a way that Hermione couldn't put into words, like the hint of a memory of a home she'd known long, long ago.

"I've been thinking," Hermione said, "What...if I were to go with you?"

Severus froze mid-slice, his face frozen between shock and hope.

"You cannot be suggesting what I think you're suggesting," he said quietly.

"If we ever find the door again," Hermione said, idly tracing her finger in a circle on the wooden surface of the table, "would you be willing to let me come with you?"

"Hermione, think! It might unravel the very fabric of time!" Severus said, his eyes sad as he seemed to fight to say what needed to be said.

"I...I don't care!" Hermione said loudly as she suddenly stood and slammed the palms of her hands against the table, ignoring the stinging pain that radiated up her arms. "You know what, I really don't! Do you know how many people died?! You bloody died without a moment of happiness to show for it! I should know. I was there! I was unable to do anything as I watched the life go out of your eyes, Severus. You weren't even forty years old and you died thinking you had failed us all!"

"But did I?" Severus replied, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her pause. "Did I fail...in the end?"

"...No..." Hermione said, trailing off, "...but what if I helped you to find the objects that allowed Voldemort to return? What if you don't have to die? What if we can make it so that no one has to die?"

"Everyone dies, Hermione," Severus said morosely.

"Well, I guess I'm a terrible person for thinking that it's daft to throw your life away!" Hermione exclaimed irritably. "I...I can't keep talking like this. I'm going to lay down."

Hermione turned and stomped away to the bunk beds and lay down facing the wall of the tent, glaring fiercely. That damnable man and his damnable martyr complex! The minutes stretched out in the silence, save for the sound of Severus puttering around in the kitchen. Hermione felt herself slowly falling into a contented stupor at the sound of bowls rattling against one another and the sound of a spoon stirring around in a pot. For some reason, such domestic sounds reminded her of the security she'd had as a child watching her parents fix meals.

She hadn't been meaning to fall asleep but the next thing Hermione knew, she was roused slightly by the feeling of something warm being draped over her body as a pair of warm, slender fingers untied her shoes and slipped them off of her feet.

"Unghhh," she groaned, tossing and turning in her half-awake state.

"Shhh, you sleep now. I shall keep you safe," came the whispery voice from above her.

Hermione didn't need to be told twice. She snuggled down under the warm blanket and her breathing began to even out once again. It was as she finally drifted off to sleep that she thought she felt gentle fingers lightly stroking her back as though trying to soothe her into a deeper sleep and she knew he was keeping watch over her.