Thank you guys for all of your wonderful reviews and support, I hope that this chapter can clarify any questions that you may have. I don't have much to say so I'll see you on the other side (;

*Disclaimer: JKR enjoys making magic. I enjoy signing terribly off key*

Chapter 11-

"There's a flower," Hermione pointed in front of her, wiping sweat off of her brow with her other hand. 20 degrees Celsius in bloody June had never felt like the Devil's personal sauna. She tugged at her jumper, her skin burning with the saltiness of her sweat.

"That's a bush," Snape rolled his eyes and turned away from her, mumbling, "Cleverest witch of her age, my arse."

"It has flowers on it," she grumbled, trudging forward after him. The potion relieved the worst of the symptoms, though the bruising and the slashes had yet to heal. They still clung to her skin, black trails spelling out hatred on her side. Before leaving, Snape had checked her thoroughly, checking to make sure that she hadn't cast a glamour on herself. He had watched her intently as she stepped out of the tent, clad in a soft black jumper and a matching pair of leggings.

"Why do I bother buying you robes," He had sneered at her, "if you would rather transfigure them into anything but what they are intended to be?"

The blush had crept across her face, proving to him that she was still among the living, "I didn't want them to rub."

They had been traveling for three hours, only stopping when Hermione pointed out something that wasn't a mountain or a tree, which seemed to be occurring more and more often. Each step she took was hesitant; each crack of a twig sent her jumping.

"Troglodytarum flos," Hermione broke the irritated silence, pulling her canteen out of her knapsack, "Is chartreuse in color and is identifiable by five to seven red thorns. It is often found where a mountain range meets the water, and where the sun is dim."

"You've been reading again," Snape himself stopped to rest against a tree, taking a small sip of his canteen before returning it again, they hadn't seen another source of water since- well, it hardly mattered to dwell on it any longer.

"Does that surprise you?" She cocked an eyebrow and settled in front of him, playing with the grass between her fingers.

"Not in the slightest," He watched the spark in her light when she recited whatever book she had memorized, the first sign of light he had glimpsed in them for a while.

"I couldn't find much else," Hermione admitted, pulling a book out of her bag, thumbing through the pages, "Not what its uses are, or what time of the year it blooms, or how it is fertilized…"

"I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out," Snape stood up, preparing to embark again, sweeping stray strands of grass from his robes.

"I think we should set up camp for the night," Hermione turned her face away, willing him not to see her expression, to see the way her eyes flinched when she said it.

"At this rate we won't make it back to London till term begins. We have hours of daylight left, now let's get going."

"I really think we should stop," Her tone became firm, but faltered as she whispered, "Please."

"He's not going to find you here," Snape lifted her gently to her feet, keeping his hand on her shoulder as she slumped into his touch. The delicate line of her collar bone slipped from her jumper, and he itched to reach out and stroke it. Instead, he adjusted the fabric, giving her back a sliver of modesty. He knew what she saw when she closed her eyes, knew what she heard before she fell into slumber. Wolves.

Her mouth fell open at his touch and she tried to push out all of the words that she couldn't say, but instead found herself rambling, "It wouldn't be a complete waste of time if we stopped. I could go through more of the books; I could sketch out a map of where we should go. I could-"

"Fine," He snapped, and the tent unfolded itself from his back with a jab of the wand, "If it'll shut you up."

She wanted to thank him for understanding, but instead she simply gave him a polite nod and disappeared inside.

He wanted to hate her. Oh how desperately he wanted to hate her. The way that she clung to her precious books like they were a lifeline and how she just presumed that she knew everything. How inconsiderate she was about her health, tossing it aside just because she could. Was the insolent chit even grateful? Not even close. Instead, she cried out another boy's name in her sleep.

Hermione's skin was burning up, sweat matting her hair to the sheets. She clutched the sheet and screamed in agony as the potion made its way through her system. Her mouth opened and shut on its own accord, her lips bled from the chapping. Her legs thrashed, and her body trembled violently.

"Ron," she called in her sleep, "Ron."

The fucking Weasley. Sometimes he did hate her. It wasn't hard to do and it meant that he wouldn't have to explain his feelings.

It was official, he hated her.

When Hermione noticed Snape slinking into the tent, she tucked a piece of parchment into a textbook and slid it inconspicuously under the bed.

"Troll flower," She looked quite pleased with herself as she grinned, turning her face up to him, "I figured it out. Troll flower."

When he didn't respond, she pressed on, "It took me ages to figure it out. My parents made me take Latin in primary school. Of course I stopped taking it when I came to Hogwarts, but I remembered a lot of the stems and I just stitched it together before I came up with-"

"Miss Granger, what the devil are you rambling on about?" Snape pinched his fingers to the bridge of his nose, feeling a migraine threatening to make itself known.

"Troglodytarum flos," she smiled widely, "Is Latin for Troll flower. We're going to deal with trolls."

"You'll do nothing of the sort," He motioned at her, "We both know that you can't handle anything right now.

"That's unfair," She stood up, the jumper slipping once again from its spot, her voice scalding, "You know it."

"Life isn't fair," He felt a throb behind his eyes and grimaced, "Now go to bed."

"Is that how you plan on dealing with every disagreement?" She punctuated each word with a frantic flick of her hand, "Sending me to bed like a child?"

"You're acting like one."

"I won't let you treat me like one!" She gripped at her wand threateningly.

"We both know you can't duel, Granger," Snape didn't even flinch at her movement, "Now. Go. To. Bed."

Something in her body gave out, each muscle relaxing at once. She smiled hazily at him, and then tucked herself into the bed. Moments later, the room was full of her soft snores. Fuck. He had forgotten. Stacks of books and parchment were still lying out where she had been sitting. He sank to the ground and paged through them, reading the notes she had jotted down. The corner of a textbook peaked out from underneath the bed, perhaps shoved under when she had stood up.

Snape tugged it out, noting the faded cover of her Arthimancy textbook, and the small stack of parchment poking out of the side. The first page wasn't in her familiar loopy scrawl, but in a hurried prickly one.

Hermione-

Harry and I were worried that you wouldn't write soon, and that we'll have to tear you away from your research ourselves. I'm sure you're having a bloody jolly time in the States, where you can stay in the library all day. I'm stuck here at the Burrow and all of the family is over. Uncle Lupin is the only one who couldn't make it to the reunion. He claims he hasn't been feeling well. Harry, Bill, and I have to bunk together and Harry snores like a freight train. I hope that you find everything that you can about the you-know-whats and you come back with presents!

-Ron

The fucking Weasley. When had she received the letter? Had they continued their correspondence? A flick of the wand sent the letter curling up into a ball of flames, then nothing more than a pile of ash. Perhaps she dreamt of him now as she smiled in her sleep, of him embracing her, of him touching her.

The second piece of paper had no header, and was a short list with multiple items crossed out furiously. Underneath the list she had hastily scrawled, Neither can live while the other survives. What had Granger been doing in the States? This sheet of paper he tucked into his robes, to review later. The final page was a list of names, names that stung his eyes with familiarity.

Avery- Triwizard Tournament. Department of Mysteries. Unlikely, would have turned me in

Bagman- Unlikely. Cleared of all charges.

Crabbe- Triwizard Tournament. Department of Mysteries. Undecided.

Dolohov- Department of Mysteries. Possibly.

Goyle- Triwizard Tournament. Undecided.

Greyback- Dangerous. Werewolf. Kills for fun. Possibly.

Lestrange, Bellatrix- Has motive, likely

Malfoy- Too arrogant, would have turned me in. Unlikely

Nott- Unsure

Pettigrew- Coward. Unlikely

Snape-

Hermione Granger, the cleverest witch of her age, had a list of Death Eaters in her textbook. A list of Death Eaters that included him in it, a blank description waiting to be filled in, a list of potential suspects for her kidnapping. He was going to fucking kill her.

Before you bombard me with accusations, this isn't a full list of Death Eaters, just some that Hermione would be aware of at this point. Leave some love! xo