ALLERFORD, SOMERSET, ENGLAND

Later

Hermione sat up half the night. Sitting on her bed, her knees pulled up to her chest, her head in her hands, she grieved for Harry, for Ron, for everyone who might be gone, and all of the innocent Muggles who had died, tools in Voldemort's climb to power. It all made her so angry, she couldn't hardly stand it. Her jaw ached from clenching her teeth so hard, and blue sparks, the first magic she had manifested since her imprisonment, raced along her hair. The late hour finally won, though, and she laid down. Her sleep, fragmented and unrestful, was punctuated with some of her worst memories.

[[dream flashback]]

Hermione stared at the small group crowding into her cell. She was momentarily taken aback to see her former professor after all of this time. His face was cold and frozen in a glare, and while she gaped at him, he resolutely avoided her eyes.

But then, Bellatrix started chatting, and Hermione shrunk against the wall warily. Just the sound of her voice set her on edge. And then－What is that smell? Hermione wondered.

"So nice that you could join us, Severus," Bellatrix purred insincerely, glancing down at a large metal can Rodolphus had just set down with a noticeable clang against the flagstone floor. "I must admit, Half-bloods are good for one thing." Bellatrix sneered as she abruptly stepped forward and slammed Hermione down against the floor of the cell.

Hermione didn't react to the sharp pain and shrunk into herself, making herself as small as possible. Bellatrix smiled at her, and Hermione's heart skittered and then pounded frightfully in her chest.

"Glockenspieler has been enlightening us a great deal concerning the Muggles' ideas of torture." Bellatrix paused and met the cool obsidian eyes of Severus Snape nearby, then the eyes of her husband and Lucius Malfoy. "They say," she paused long enough to smile radiantly down at The Mudblood crouched on the dirty floor, "fire is the worst."

Cold ice raced down Hermione's spine, and she shuffled back against the wall. Bellatrix met her husband's smirk with one of her own and then nodded. Rodolphus hefted the large can of petrol and eagerly untwisted the lid, then as Hermione tried to get away despite her chains' strong resistance, he turned the can over, spilling the odorous liquid all over her legs and abdomen. Hermione started to hyperventilate. She stared at the man who used to be one of her favourite professors, silently begging him to do something. But he just stood there, his face impassive. He could have been at a lecture expounding on the delights of flobberworms for all of the interest he was paying her.

When Bellatrix raised her wand, his eyes finally met hers.

Bellatrix couldn't help the giggle that escaped. "Incendio!"

Hermione hated to scream, to give them the satisfaction; but there was no holding one back.

Almost worse than the pain, which was excruciating, was the smell.

Hermione gasped for breath and her wild, pleading eyes held on to the hard gaze of her professor. But then－he broke the eye contact and stared at the wall, his face a contrast of hard lines.

And, she knew what abandonment felt like.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

There was a terrific scrambling of limbs and tangled quilts and Hermione sat bolt upright, gasping and sobbing. Her eyes clenched shut and she doubled over in the bed, crying so hard she felt like she was going to throw up. She climbed clumsily and shakily out of the bed and stumbled towards the doorway, righting herself by grasping onto the doorknob. Her body was shuddering and her left hand was clasped over her mouth.

Christie met her in the hallway, looking unkempt and sleepy. He pulled her close and quickly steered her towards the bathroom while her knees knocked. "Child, lass, shhh, tis okay, you're alrigh'. Almos'—steady on dare." He helped her ease in front of the toilet and opened the lid for her.

Hermione held on to the floor near her knees as she lost her dinner, heaving wrenchingly two, three, four times into the porcelain bowl. Sobs renewed in their strength after the nausea wore away and Hermione turned and drew her knees up to her chest and bent her head, unable to stem the flow of tears. Christie was murmuring something, she wasn't sure what, but soon she felt a cool, wet cloth on the back of her neck and then he was pressing another one into her hand.

Hermione gratefully used it to clean her face off, her fingers weak and trembling, and then she held the wet cloth against her forehead as she balled up once more. Her tears were so hot, they were burning her face. She started hiccuping. A fresh wave of sobs shook her as her mind's eye brought back the clear memory of her professor breaking his gaze, staring rigidly at the wall. Normally, Hermione hid behind a wall of righteous anger where he was concerned, a nice and safe and comforting blanket of anger, but tonight, right now, all she felt was a deep and painful ache, like her heart was going to implode.

She felt so empty.

So empty.

NEAR GAIRLOCH, HIGHLANDS, SCOTLAND

The same evening

Severus retched into the sink, then rinsed his mouth out and splashed water on his face. His hands were shaking, but he ignored the trembling. He left the bathroom and paced around the small bedroom, wearing down the path in the carpet still further. His steps eventually brought him to the tall diamond-paned window beside his large and untidy desk as they usually did, and he stared out. The night sky was overcast and he could not see any stars or even the moon. As his breathing slowed and the memory lingered solely upon her gaze, the image of which only seemed to become sharper with time, he stared past his reflection in the glass, not seeing himself but a broken girl, asking for his help. His hand raked roughly down his face, and he sighed. He hadn't been able to make it back in time.

THE DARK TOWER, UNPLOTTABLE

flashback

Lucius caught him heading back down the flight of stairs leading to her cell and imparted on him what he thought would be good news. Draco had been commissioned to bring The Mudblood her meals; after all, no one else really wanted the bother any longer; she wasn't a high security prisoner since Potter's death a few months before, was she? Why should they have to waste their time feeding the chit, keeping her alive? But, Lucius had laughed, exulting in how kind fate had been. The girl had saved them all the trouble and kicked the bucket. Draco had found her, and wasn't he relieved?

When Severus had appeared to somewhat reluctantly offer to take care of the corpse, Lucius had patted him on the shoulder and told him not to worry about it; he'd already seen to it. After Lucius departed, Severus continued down the stairs, frustrated as hell and full of regret, and when he reached the door to her cell, he found Draco standing outside with a completely blank look in his eyes.

The poor kid was in shock, no doubt. Severus opened the door with a hard grip on his wand, tapping twice, and let himself into the cell for a moment. It was empty, dark, oppressive, and he couldn't believe that she'd lived as long as she had. Almost a year in this hole. Stronger even than Potter. Why couldn't she have lasted one more day? Anger and indignation nearly suffocated him. He left, closing the door behind him softly, and Draco followed him up the many flights of stairs.

They didn't speak. There were really no words.

NEAR GAIRLOCH, HIGHLANDS, SCOTLAND

Back to 2001

At the principal safe house, Severus's long legs carried him to his bed, and he sat down heavily on the edge, lowering his face into his hands.

She'd been gone now well over a year.

He'd never be free of her.

ALLERFORD, SOMERSET, ENGLAND

A few days later

Hermione woke quietly and turned over onto her side. The sky was still dark outside her window. A glance at the alarm clock on her night-stand showed that dawn was still a few hours away. Three in the morning and she was wide awake. With a sigh, she pulled the quilt up around her shoulders and snuggled down into her pillow and closed her eyes stubbornly, willing away the hot tears she could feel building. She hadn't been able to shake the melancholy after the other night. She felt raw. When a few tears leaked out, soaking into her pillowcase, Hermione sat up and pushed her blankets back.

She couldn't take another minute of lying in bed crying. If she couldn't sleep, she would just get started on her day. She stretched for a minute and then turned on the light switch. Opening the top drawer of a short and wide dresser, she unrolled a pair of socks and quickly slipped one on each foot. October had arrived in a horrible temper, cold, wet, and windy, and she was so thankful that she had a warm and safe place to stay. Renewed gratitude helped take the edge off of her wayward emotions. Hermione made her bed, turned off her light and padded quietly to the kitchen.

Fresh coffee and an hour or two on the forum, that's what she needed.

Hermione filled the percolator half-full with water as the laptop hummed and beeped in an arrested beat, slowly booting up. After scooping coarse coffee grounds into the top chamber, she set the percolator on the stove and turned the burner up to medium-high, so that the water would start boiling in a few minutes. The smell of coffee brewing was invigorating.

Hermione drank three cups while reading and posting on the forums and was wide awake and covered in flour, pulling a pan of a simple apple cake out of the oven when Christie walked into the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively.

Christie glanced at the clock with a laugh. It was 6 a.m. "Ye sleep at all last noight, girlie?"

Hermione smiled and set the cinnamon-spiced dessert upon the counter to cool. "A little. Enough. There's hot coffee if you would like some to go with a bit of cake."

"Oi believe Oi do! Tanks, lass. Ye nu, Oi do believe Oi'm gettin' spoil't."

Hermione smiled, closing the oven door and setting aside the oven gloves (potholders). "Me too."