Hey guys, sorry for the wait, but thank you all for being patient - I've already started work on the next two chapters so they will be out much faster! All the reviews and follows/favs are so encouraging and mean so much to me- please keep reviewing and letting me know what you think about the story! Enjoy!

"First rule of occlumency?" Professor Snape's distinctive voice was tired and bored.

Hermione knew the occlumency lessons were mandatory, or at least a protective provision they'd both agreed to, but she didn't understand why the potions master had to make his annoyance so obvious.

"The first rule is to clear your mind." She recited from one of the three books she'd poured over in preparation for the lesson. There were only two days until the start of term and after her lesson, she'd have dinner with the faculty – most all of them had nearly arrived by now – and then a meeting with the few faculty members that knew her situation to discuss the best way to appropriate it to her friends. The thought of lying twisted her stomach and on top of the nerves and simmering emotions of the past week, Hermione didn't see much hope of clearing her mind successfully.

"Before that," the dark professor drawled.

"I.. well.. the first rule," Hermione flushed and stuttered uselessly beneath the professor's gaze. She'd found it much more uncomfortable than she'd anticipated to be in such close proximity to him after their binding. Thoughts of that night seemed to spring up unbidden by her with vicious clarity.

"Where is your usual insufferability?"

"Severus, really, spit it out already," Professor McGonagall scolded from the corner. She'd accompanied Hermione to the first lesson, and would continue to do so until she felt comfortable enough on her own. McGonagall sat in the corner of the office nearest the fireplace editing lesson plans and provoking – only barely disguised as defending – Hermione.

Professor Snape sneered and glared at the older witch who didn't notice. Hermione tried not to shrink beneath his gaze when it leveled on her. "Before clearing your mind, you must discover your mentalscape. And in order to do so successfully –"

"You must know your Elemental Affinity, I knew that," she berated herself.

"Well? Have you figured yours out?"

Hermione gazed up at him with wide eyes. They'd only briefly discussed Affinities in class last year but after Seamus set off a Weasley Wizzard Wheezes beneath his desk and gave Camilla Griggory boils on her -, their lesson had ended without a confirmation of their Affinities. "No, sir."

He sneered and his eyes rolled lazily. "Hold your wand out and close your eyes."

Hermione hesitantly obeyed, but noticed Professor McGonagall watching the scene from the corner with bright interest.

"Close your eyes, Granger. And face your wand away from me," Snape growled. Finally in position, Hermione took a deep breath as she waited for more instruction. "Now, to the best of your ability. Clear your mind. This is not at thorough as it needs to be for occlumency, just silence any surface thoughts you can. I will be listening."

Hermione's nerves didn't settle. Her thoughts bustled and scattered like marbles across the floor and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't collect them fast enough.

Focus, Granger.

The voice in her head shocked her and strangely enough, she felt the marbles of her thoughts begin to slow. She decided to focus on her breathing and the echo of her professor's voice to keep the slowed pace.

Finally, she found some peace. The thoughts of the school year were gone, the thoughts of curses and bindings and friends and parents were gone too.

Good. She smiled slightly at the affirmation. Now, grip your wand properly and focus on Air.

The vague directions provided little for Hermione to focus on. She felt dumb and useless as she attempted to think of the feeling of wind in her hair or whipping her cheeks.

What exactly is supposed to happen?

We are finding your affinity, Granger, or have you forgotten already. She bristled and imagined a gust of wind pulling the potion master's cape forcefully. Focus, Granger. He growled.

She flushed and tried to picture wind again.

Move on, focus on earth.

Earth?

Did you not hear me?

Growing angry, Hermione imagined rolling in mud, how it felt squished beneath her toes. Then sand sticking to her calves in the summer and the dirt beneath her finger nails helping her Mum in the garden.

What exactly is supposed to happen?

When you find your affinity, there will be magical outpour from your wand. Move on to water now.

Moving on, Hermione pictured the ocean, wide and humming, and the feeling of being tossed inside it. Then the rain slicking her cheeks and the snow sticking in her eyelashes and hair.

Anything?

Move on to fire now.

She heard the rustle as her professor took a step back and she grew nervous herself. This was her last option, she had to be fire.

Hermione thought of the roaring gold flames of an inferno, brutal and bright. All she could see was the burning red in her mind that made her heart leap to her throat.

Is it working?

Not yet, focus your thoughts, Granger.

I am focused. She grit back. Her mind was filled with flame and she worried that all the clarity she'd achieved with no little satisfaction would be a permanate fixture if the flames caught hold of them.

Focus, that is not the only form of flame.

Her professor's words did not bring comfort and she fought back the thoughts of the inferno until she was left with the void once again. Breathing feavily, she tried to imagine a different fire. She saw the fireplace in her family's home and Crookshanks curled in front of it. She saw the candles on her birthday cake and the small blue flame beneath her cauldron and the warm hearth of the Gryffindor tower.

She felt something shift into place inside her, warm and firm, as if she truly stood in front of the fireplace. That warmth within grew until she felt it slipping out of her in unsteady waves, afraid of being blown out.

Good, Granger.

She opened her eyes. From the tip of her wand, a small golden flame, like the tip of a candle, fluttered lightly in the dim dungeon.

"I'm a fire myself, Granger," Professor McGonagall said warmly from the corner. She was no longer sitting at the desk but on it with her hands pressed together.

"How very surprising, a Gryffindor having an Affinity with the most reckless and chaotic element?" Snape drawled. Hermione shook the wand until the small flame went away.

"I would've thought Slytherins were more aligned with fire," Hermione said, too quickly for her mind's filter to catch. Professor Snape gave her a withering glare but a loud snort echoed from the back corner as McGonagall once again sat down at her desk.

"Now that you've found your Affinity, we can begin, if you manage to clear your mind," He raised an eyebrow as he finished speaking and gave her a pointed look. You've managed it before, now again, Granger.

It took long minutes to clear her thoughts again, the awareness that her mental movments were being watched certainly did not make it easier. When she'd pushed back all that she could, she spoke out to Snape, not daring to vocalize and ruin her concentration. Now what?

Now, you must build your mentalscape. I assume you've consumed enough facts about it?

As he spoke, in the clearing of her mind a form seemed to twist and bend. It felt strange, like something tickling her, and thought it was clearly foreign – and clearly him – it wasn't so terrible as she would have thought. She recited what she'd read from the books, priding herself when the shape let off a wave of annoyance that she knew would coincide with a calculated, if not exaggerated, eye roll. A mentalscape is a sorting system of the mind to control the location and flow of information. It is based around the individual wizard's Affinity to incorporate the root of magic flow. Once a scape is constructed, the individual will be able to sort and control the intake of information to allow for the most successful occlu-

Yes, enough, Granger, she allowed herself a smirk. When Professor Snape spoke again, it was aloud. "Now, form a scene based around your Affinity, as fire, it would be easy enough to imagine anything associated with fire. Be careful that if you use the sun as a source, you craft it so that you do not create any shadowed confines – they will innately draw darker thoughts and secrets and will stick out to any Legilimens like a –"

"What is your scape?" Hermione asked, not daring to open her eyes. She felt the form in her mind, his form, freeze.

"You will learn in time if you advance. Now, begin construction."

Hermione circled through dizzying images of flames and exhausted all sources and scenes within minutes. She felt dreary and defeated and suddently the shadow of Snape in her mind was not strange and ticklish but mocking. There was no scene or scape that came naturally to her. She even tried imagining the fireplace in the common room and allowing her thoughts to scatter in and fill it, but they hung like portraits on the wall, bared and open for all to see. It was useless, Hermione realized. There was no way she would be able to do it, she would never master Occluemency. She would be a vulnerability, a liability. She would let the Dumbledore down and the Order and Harr—"

Granger, Snape growled. Pull yourself together. You cannot construct with emotion, not in the way you have chosen to attempt to. You must find a space that comes naturally. Any forced space will not work, as you have seen, because it is not tapping into the source.

She felt the sting and hiss of his words and felt the ensuing sting against her closed eyes. It was hard to keep her mind cleared in her present state, the thoughts seemed to blurr past her like shooting-

Her eyes snapped open with a gasp. The idea had struck her like a well-aimed Stupify. She glanced up at the professor who bore her down with a glare. "I'm going to try something."

"As opposed to what you've been doing?"

She didn't bother feeling the sting of his words as she closed her eyes once more and focused on her breathing to clear her thoughts. Finally, standing in a void of her mind, she let it fill with light. They were small, broken fragments at first, but she drew them closer to her, closer to whatever core resided in her being.

Her mind filled with the light and the darkness drew in around it, but not dimming the brilliance in the slightest. The warmth incased her as certain lights drew nearer, but they flitted around and shone with radiance.

Slowly, she let her thoughts trickle in. They seeped and separated into the light, and some of them, went deeper back into the lights at the far end, and then beyond them. There were no posters of her thoughts or bared, open passages to find them.

Will this work? The only thing that had not full incorporated to the light was the ever-shifting shape of Snape's presense. It moved, always somewhere behind her, but just as entrenched in the broken light as she.

Stars? Her professor's voice was cynical.

Will it work?

There was an infinite pause and then she felt the decision from the shape before he spoke it. Yes. You will need to impose a more rigid sorting system, but this will be adequate.

Hermione was beaming when she opened her eyes. She felt the stars presence in her mind even when she wasn't focusing on it. "And now?"

"Now, I have lesson plans," Snape didn't look at her as he settled himself rigidly behind his wide desk. She turned to McGonagall in the corner who was stacking her papers and tightening a cap on her ink.

"That's it?"

"Did you expect to learn the elusive art in one day?" He raised a brow at her and she flushed in anger.

"No, but I expected to learn something."

Snape's upper lip curled in a sneer that matched his glare. "You have accomplished more than that boy wonder friend of yours ever did. If you wish to have any long-term success, you need to build your skills and let them settle."

She huffed and felt her Head of House's hand fall lightly on her shoulder. "Dinner is in an hour, Hermione, I think you've had a good run of a day."

"But.. I .. we…"

"Granger," Professor Snape hissed. "We will resume lessons on Tuesday."

Thoroughly feeling like a scolded child she forfeited.

"Your assignement for next time," he spoke just as she'd gotten two steps from the desk. "Is to learn how to hide a thought."

Hermione didn't acknowledge he'd spoken, but she resolved herself with a smirk unseen that she would do exactly that, and she had a few thoughts already begging to be hidden.

Severus didn't watch as the Gryffindor's left his office. He didn't work on lesson plans either. Instead, as soon as the door closed soundly and their footsteps couldn't be heard, he swore so profoundly Salthazar Slytherin himself would blush.

The girl's first occlumency lesson had gotten much farther than planned. He'd read of people with slightly innate abilities for the art, but he'd never suspected the girl with more thought jammed in her head than grains of sand on the beach could ever accomplish it. He'd had more faith in her than Potter, but her progress was astounding and infuriating.

Her proficiency in occlumency would be necessary if they were to keep the Dark Lord from having his own, unfiltered view of Hogwarts, Potter and the Order. It was good on a purely strategic level that the girl showed such promise, but Severus himself found it hard to swallow.

When he'd gotten his hands on illicit occlumency texts, the same ones he'd sent to the girl just a day ago, it had taken him months to construct an adequate mentalscape on his own. Drawing into his mind, Severus looked out over the tepid, grey waters of his thoughts.

Beneath the surface, a silver otter flitted. He avoided the form like an infection.

Getting a glimpse into the girl's mind had been dizzying, not purely from the legillimency. Her thoughts swarmed and buzzed seemingly unendingly and he'd slipped through them with quickly, tasting her memories and glimpsing into her darker parts.

He didn't go too deep. He didn't want to.

Severus understood how painful it was to have someone worm through your mind, she'd learn in time but not today. Hopefully not anytime soon.

When the floo flared, he released another impressive swear.

The old wizard flitting through brought on an similarly impressive scowl.

"Minerva told me you had a lesson with Miss Grainger today and that she showed astonishing skill."

Severus sneered. "The girl's thoughts are more chaotic than Pomona's office."

"But she has a gift."

He didn't reply but to dip his quill into the ink and begin scribbling down lesson plans.

"you will be at dinner tonight, Severus. We need to discuss how Miss Grainger will approach the subject of her disappearance with her friends. It is important for the sake of good that Harry does not know what happened, I have no reason to think he does already, so we will need to convince him that Hermione left Order quarters of her own devices and has been safe. I've taken the liberty of writing a short letter to Harry, signed by Miss Grainger, last week to be sure."

"You forged a letter?"

The old wizard gently ran his fingers across the top of his mantly and brushed them on his robes disapprovingly before sitting across from Snape. "It is only a precaution to ensure the validity of Miss Grainger's story."

"And what is her story?" He grit out. Severus took mind of his white knuckled grip on his quill as not to break it.

"She will need an alibi of course so I spoke to Poppy."

"Poppy?"

"Yes, she's agreed to train Miss Grainger in medical potions. It will, of course, explain her lessons with you during the term and she will in fact be under Poppy's tutelage in healing drafts. Her training might, more than likely, prove to be quiet a useful skill."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "You expect those dunderheads to believe she disappeared for extra classes and you expect Grainger to actually train in healing drafts? You don't think she has enough to handle?"

The silver wizards' eyes gleamed. "Careful, Severus, it almost sounds as if you are concerned for the girl."

"I'm bound to her. We have no idea yet of the effects of the binding or if her magic return is sustainable. Training in healing drafts takes considerable focus and magic, its begging for her to run down her magic and then-"

"You would have to renew the binds," Dumbledore's voice was impassive as if they spoke of what would be served for dinner, not fornication with students. "You knew the possibility for renewal was present when you agreed to the binding, Severus."

"I guess I was a fool to assume we would be working to protect her power, not drain it."

Dumbledore straightened. "I do not need to worry that you wish to keep her powers for yourself, do I?"

The question was a blow that stole his breath. In his mind, the placid water began to ripple and rise into great swells. He grit his teeth but let no other sign of the wound show. "Has Grainger agreed to lessons?"

Dumbledore stood and linked his hands together in front of him peacefully. "I will give her the news of the opportunity at dinner. It will only be select faculty but the full faculty will gather for desert and spirits. I expect you to be at dinner, Severus. Don't be late."

He departed in a burst of green flame followed by Severus' swearing.

The old fool always had his fingers in everything. He wondered if he'd ever let the girl know that he'd written letters in her name or that she didn't have a choice in the opportunity being given to her. Not that she'd mind, Severus thought, the girl was so obsessive about schooling that she'd probably be disappointed she didn't have more opportunities.

Severus dropped his head into his hands with a grimace. His head throbbed with each beat of his blood.

Extra lessons, even occlumency, meant a draining of her magic. There was nothing he could find on Relligo Potentia in texts, or in her practice, that had much promise the binding wouldn't only temporarily restore her magic. It would drain.

It would drain quickly when being exercised to such a degree.

The thought Severus had tried to suppress wormed their way to the top of the water's edge and he saw the flashes of her hair strewn across his pillow and felt the press of her fingers into his shoulders. The memories brought an uncomfortable and guilty warmth.

Of all the things he'd done, the horrible and dark things that even his own mind rejected, this had to be the worst.

He was taking advantage of a student. He'd taken her magic, her body, and possibly any future she could move on to.

When it became apparent that the Dark Lord's return would bring on a war, Severus understood that was his end. Neither side's victory promised his own. If the Order won, his association with the dark would mark his guilt and his end. And if the Dark Lord won, his betrayal at his decision to fight with the good would mean a slow and horrible end. Either way, the end of him meant the possible end of the girl's magic.

When he died, depending on the last of their presumably necessary renewal of the binding, she would have a limited time before her magic was depleated. And when that well ran out, there would be little places for her in the Wizarding World. Squibs had a hard enough time, but a muggle born witch with no magic didn't make her a witch at all.

For the millionth time in his life, Severus hated himself with a fury that few could understand.

Oh, Lily, he thought, even my death won't be enough

An hour later, Hermione was racing through the halls toward Dumbledore's office. She was bloody late for dinner and all for fruitless research. After her assignment from Professor Snape she'd been busy scowering through the occlumency books once more for the answer, but she found none.

How do you hide a thought, Hermione repeated in her head. It seemed the answer should be obvious and simple, but based on the complexity of the rest of the art, she didn't trust the instinct.

"Ginger licorice," Hermione said clearly for entry. As the stones rumbled to allow her passage, she tried to breath deeply to ease her panting and futilely attempted to pat down her hair. She was still disheveled and flushed when she stepped into the Headmaster's office.

"Ah, Miss Grainger, perfect timing," Dumbledore greeted with a warm smile and a wave to join them at the table set up in the middle of his office. It was full with foods that instantly reminded Hermione how hungry she was.

"She's eight minutes late," Professor Snape growled out.

"Sit here, Hermione," McGonagall patted the only empty spot between her and, surprisingly, Madame Pomfrey.

"I'm sorry I'm late, you should have started without me."

"That was my suggestion," Snape grit out, though Hermione noticed the acid in his tone was half hearted.

"Nonsense, but now that you're here, shall we begin?" Dumbledore gave a quick snap of his fingers and their plates filled with considerable portions that all began enthusiastically tasting. It was a while of the only sound filling the room to be the scrape of utensils across plates and the slight mumbling of food being enjoyed and chewed.

"I daresay it would be best to begin the discussion now when we are pleasantly enjoying our food than while we are waiting on desert, I have good word that the elves have made pudding," Dumbledore said.

Hermione was glad she'd wolfed down most of her plate, her stomach twisted at his words and she wasn't sure how much more of the food she'd enjoy. "I… do…" Hermione broke of with a grimace. "How much do Harry and Ron know?"

McGonagall set down her fork and covered Hermione's hand assuringly. "They know only that you left the house abruptly and without notice. They do not know anything that has taken place in the mean while and, if you chose, it can remain that way."

She was afraid she'd start crying as she said, "Yes, yes, I want it to stay that way. I don't want them to know anything."

Her Head of House's eyes filled with understanding and she squeezed Hermine's hand before releasing it once more.

"As everyone understands, this is a very precarious position," Dumbledore had only barely touched his food, Hermione noticed, and his glittering eyes were focused somewhere far beyond their table. No one touched their food anymore. "If I am correct, and I do hope I am wrong, the consequences of the curse have not been eliminated entirely. Religo Potentia is extremely dark and powerful and thrives off the strength and emotions of the castor. The Binding will nullify them, but both are very strong forms of magic that will require extreme endurance in handling. If you wish to keep the truth from your collegues, it is necessary that you train to recognize within yourself, Miss Grainger, the parts of your magic that belong to the Binding and to the curse. If you can stay attuned to their workings, you will be able to notice their effects before they become threatening and will be able to renew the Binding accordingly. The same recognition will be required of you, Severus."

Hermione risked a look across the table at the Potion's Master to find him glaring and the empty wine glass turning between his fingers. She didn't know if she felt sorry for him or angry at him, but she felt, that he could be the only one in the world that understood her position entirely. The thought decidedly made her embarrassed and sad.

"The curse will continue to deplete your magic and thus require renewals of the Binding. This will require an alibi that excuses you from your friends presence and gives you enough time for renewal and lessons with Professor Snape."

She flushed hotly and felt her palms begin to sweat. Did Snape feel the direction of her thoughts now? Did he know how confused she was by the Binding and embarrassed by her curiosity about renewals?

"What will give me that time, Headmaster? I have a full load of classes."

"That is where Poppy comes in," the grey wizard inclined his head down the table at the woman on Hermione's side who smiled down on her sadly but assuredly. "It will be a very useful skill and challenging academic pursuit, but it will also require hours in the evenings of training that will give you time away from your colleges that will go unquestioned."

"What will, professor?"

"Medical brewing."

Medical brewing? Hermione repeated in her mind. She scanned through her thoughts on what she'd read or heard on the subject in order to not appear thoroughly inept in front of her professors. What she could remember was that Medical Brewing was a very specific and specialized field of potions that brewed strong healing draughts for all types of magical ailments. Arthur Weasley had worked with Medical brewers in his time at St. Mungo's last year receiving anti-venom treatments. "I would train with Madame Pomfrey? Would I really take lessons or just tell people I am taking lessons?"

"You would take lessons. Unless of course, -"

"No!" She didn't let him finish. "I want the lessons. I want to learn."

There was a derisive snort from the dark professor across the table that made her cheeks burn but she tried to ignore.

"It will be very challenging and time consuming, Miss Grainger, so if I take you along as an apprentice, I want you to be very honest when you feel your magic weakening or when you need a break. I wont have my apprentice running herself ragged for a few potions," Madame Pomfrey's voice was stern but her eyes were kind.

Hermione nodded. "I will. Will I also continue occlumency lessons?"

"Tuesday and Thursday nights with Professor Snape. Monday and Wednesday nights and every other Saturday you will spend in the Hospital wing with Poppy," Dumbledore answered with a smiled.

Hermione let the information sink in and, despite all that had happened, she found herself growing excited. One thought seemed to be the needle running through her softly growing balloon of ease. "How will I explain my disappearance to Ron and Harry?"

Both professors turned to Dumbledore with similar expressions of displeasure, a glance Hermione didn't miss.

The Headmaster, if he noticed, didn't react. "You will tell them that you came here after discovering the opportunity of apprenticeship and have remained her to discuss with Poppy the terms and going over preliminary coursework before term starts."

There was a silence, inside Hermione and out. "You want me to tell them I left for classes? That I just disappeared without a goodbye or telling anyone to look into an apprenticeship?"

Snape grit his teeth, Hermione noticed. "As idiotic as those Gryffindors are, convincing them Hermione had left in the middle of the day without telling soul to take extra classes, while it may have fit in with the girl's… ambitious personality, it is certainly was far-fetched."

"I agree with Severus. Leaving for classes will provide no explination for her condition. Something must be acknowledged, Albus," McGonagall added.

Hermione tried to slink down in her chair. Ron and Harry wouldn't be convinced. They'd know she was lying. They wouldn't trust her any more. Her only friends would… "Surely there is something else I can say."

"If you wish to tell them that you were brought into an assembly of Death Eaters and drained of your magic, all of which was given to your professor, you may do so, Miss Grainger." Dumbledore's voice hadn't lost any of its lightness or gaity, but the words pierced so deeply inside her she gasped aloud.

The silence was heavy and angry around them.

You have not leanred this yet, Snape's voice echoed through her thoughts. But a rule of concealment in occlumency is to let enough of the truth slip out and muddle the rest of the story to write a new one.

The words weren't kind in her head, but as they sat in the silence, they rang out with truth. Let some of the truth slip out, Hermione repeated. Let some of the truth slip out.

"I didn't mean to leave, it was a mistake that I was taken with Professor Snape. But he was able to drop me off at Hogwarts before answering his call. I've had to stay here and not been able to communicate to make sure that no one picked up on Professor Snape's company before his arrival."Her words were hardly more than a whisper, but when she raised her head once more, there were three gazes of surprise, and one of impassivity, that met her. "Would that work?"

There was more silence as her story was mulled over, she waited, this time with nerves and not pain.

Finally, Dumbledore spoke. "If you feel that would best please your friends, and protect your relationship with Harry, I think it should work fine."

She nearly slipped from her chair in relief. McGonagall reached once more for her hand and gave it a friendly squeeze, sneaking in a proud wink when she looked up to her.

Their plates were empty and cleared magically, then filled once more with pudding. She had no appetite left and felt the only thing left inside her was exhaustion and the dark shifting form in her mind that never seemed to leave.

Dumbledore bore into his pudding with large slurping bites that was not nearly as endearing as it should have been.

"Hermione, you look dead on your feet," Madame Pomfrey said aloud. "Students arrive tomorrow, if I were you I would enjoy your last night in your quarters alone."

She recognized her given excuse for dismissal and took it happily. Hermione yawned widely which was not forced at all. "I think I will," she rose, "thank you for the opportunity for the apprenticeship, Professors," she gave each of them a smile, even Snape who sneered in return. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," the echo came behind her, but it was lost to the stone twisting around her as she left.

Her nerves were almost unbearable as she paced the Gryffindor Tower common room. People had slowly began filtering in, all with amiable greetings, and time was quickly closing in on the hour they were expected in the Great Hall. Still Harry and Ron were not here.

Perhaps they're going straight to dinner, she thought, without her, they probably missed their carriage and were running to make it on time. The thought eased a slight edge off her nerves and she slowly lumbered up the stairwell to her room.

"I'm so excited for the term, Eeeee! You know Roger has already asked me to meet him in the west corridor for snogging, and hopefully it wont end there," Lavender's high and unmistakable voice greeted Hermione as she entered her now filled room. Pavarti and Lavender both fell silent upon her entrance so she changed quickly into her uniform and tried to ignore their conspicuous whispers.

In the Great Hall, Hermione was smothered by a joint hug by the Weasley twins but couldn't ignore the now tight feeling in her stomach that her best friends were not yet in the Hall. Where the hell were they?

She sat impatiently, trying not to let her gaze stray toward the Slytherin end of the hall. Where were they?

The lights went up and the Headmaster rose and crossed to the podium, there was a blank stretch of the bench across from her that the other Gryffindors had naturally left for Harry and Ron and the Hall fell silent while they waited for the Headmaster's address.

"Good evening and a warm welcome, students!" Cheers and clapping. "I am looking forward to a wonderful and transforming school year, but lets not keep the first years waiting, Professor McGonagall?"

There was a dull, low sound as the Hall's doors opened wide to reveal the bubbling and awe-struck faces of the newest crop of first years. Hermione felt a sharp tang of sadness as she remembered the feeling of entering the Great Hall for the first time, even after all these years and all she'd gone through, the magic of that moment didn't leave her.

Her eyes blurred with tears which she wiped away quickly and didn't notice the space across from her filling.

When she looked up, a wild-haired Ron and an intensely staring Harry were before her.

"Harry! Ron!" She gasped, Hermione had to stop herself from leaping across the table to hug them and had to wipe away a second spitting of tears.

"Blimey, Hermione, you haven't been gone that long," Ron laughed. A cold awareness came over her and she remembered the story she'd devised with her professors. Ron didn't know. He had no idea she hadn't just gone away for educational opportunities.

Harry, however, hadn't let his intense gaze sway from her. She noticed for the first itme the tightness in his jaw.

"Harry?"

He shook his head and looked around them. She noticed the gazes of a few other Gryffindor's they'd caught and realized he didn't want an audience. Hermione felt her nerves grow.

They watched the Sorting ceremony until there were only three students left, that was when she felt Harry kick her foot, not too gently, beneath the table. She turned to him sharply to find his gaze, bright and burning, on her again.

"I know why you left, Hermione," faintly he traced his scar. Hermione couldn't breath. "I saw it all. Everything."

Thank you so much for reading, please leave a review to let me know what you think!