A/N: First update of the year! I feel just so thrilled about it! Something interesting happens in this chapter and I would really like to know your opinion about it, my dear readers!

A really special thanks to my wonderful Beta Reader, MWolfe13!


She was late.

Hermione had finished talking with Snape at 7:30 PM and by the time she had run back to her room to change, everybody had already been enjoying Slughorn's party.

Had she really just swore an Unbreakable Vow with Snape? Had she really just hugged Snape? She didn't know which of the two was more unbelievable than the other.

She cared for him. She had understood that for a while now, maybe from when she had realized she had been jealous of a stupid book. She had thought – at that time – it had been some intellectual jealousy, that it was normal after she had been working with her Professor side by side every day for over a month. It was natural that some intellectual attachment would develop and that it would demand some... exclusivity. It was a professional understanding, a – if she wanted to exaggerate – platonic love.

And that was what she had been telling herself for some time until she had discovered who her Professor really was. She had known him for six years and for six years she and her friends had doubted his good nature. It had been so easy to believe him the bad guy, so easy to pin that uncomfortable role on him. And he had wanted it, too. Snape had wished for them to believe he was the antagonist, the dark Bat of the Dungeons, gloomy and harsh. They had all fallen for it.

And then, she had fallen for him.

She sighed, putting her school robes back in her wardrobe and grabbing the dress she had chosen for the party. She had fallen for him. Fallen for his fake indifference that just enticed her more to uncover it, to see what was so precious that was hidden behind it and, surprisingly, sometimes she had been able to catch glimpses of his true self, and now she just couldn't stop.

Or had she fallen for him before? And that was the cause that had ignited her impossible and indomitable curiosity?

She blamed him too. He had given up after a while, digging after digging, he had given in under her pressure, he had given in at the same desire to be understood by someone. And she had been the victim... or was she executioner? Did it matter in the end?

She was in love with him. She was in love with Severus Snape, current (but not true) Death-Eater, Bat of the Dungeons, and harsh but amazing Potions Master.

Would she be able to spare him the terrible fate of being the Headmaster's killer? He had protected them all for years, the least she could do was to try to defend him from that damning destiny. She had to succeed.

Did he love her, too? She was undoubtedly not an expert in that field, but she had felt it, some primordial instinct had made it so clear, and she couldn't have mistaken that gaze in a thousand years, nor the touch. No, it was not a friendly touch. It had been more; there was a link between them. She had felt it and he had felt it, too. It had been so evident, so evident that she couldn't help but wonder how the Headmaster himself had not realized it. Or had he?

She blushed. Merlin, she hated how all her emotions about Snape were always so evident on her face. She envied him for his unique capacity to hide his feelings. Even thinking about him in her room, all alone, would have her blush. The Headmaster? She wondered how the whole school didn't know it already.


She reached Slughorn's party later than sooner. Her dress wouldn't let her walk fast enough as she would have liked and a shower and some mild make-up had taken her almost an hour.

Nobody seemed to notice her tardiness, though: everybody was already off dancing around the decorated room and just a few – maybe laggards as her – were trying to fish something at the buffet unnoticed.

She spotted Harry chatting with Luna and... Mr. Worple himself. Wondering whether she should go near them or not, she looked around the room just to catch the sight of a full-robed Professor Snape looking – as always in his most formal outfits – menacing and unapproachable; a trait that, instead of scaring her lately, enticed her just more to get nearer to him.

He seemed to notice her at that same moment and – though she might be mistaken – she thought she had seen a flare of excitement shine in his black eyes. It all lasted but a moment as he only nodded his head in her direction in the mildest form of greeting. She reciprocated the gesture before deciding to move her attention somewhere else before she could embarrass herself. Why had he not told her that he would be at Slughorn's party? She tried to feign indifference as best as she could as she analyzed the room in search of Draco but he was nowhere to be seen, she didn't even know whether he was part of the Slug Club.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed behind her, and she had to muster all of her patience not to scream in annoyance at his sneaky steps. She hoped Snape had not seen her or he would be disappointed in her lack of attention.

"Harry! Hi! Nice party, eh?" He looked... normal, too normal for what he was supposed to know about Voldemort. Both the Headmaster and Snape had not told her what the crucial information was for killing him and now she couldn't help but be curious about it. Would Harry tell her or was she not supposed to know?

"I thought you had just entered." He asked skeptically.

"I did." She replied lamely: she had tried to look indifferent, and she had obtained the opposite reaction.

"You have not missed much anyway. Worple is less interesting than we all thought." She was lucky that her interlocutor was less attentive than she was. How was it possible that they had survived with that dull attitude for six years after everything they had had to face?

"Actually Hermione, I wanted to talk to you and Ron but... in private. I have already told Ron we could meet up later in the Common room, hoping that everybody will have gone to sleep by then. It is... urgent and important." He said solemnly as even in that moment he looked around to make sure nobody was hearing them.

"Of course. We could leave the party sooner, if you want." She added; she had come, she had been there for more than five minutes, she had openly stared at her Professor for half of the time, and now she could surely go. She had played her part. Besides, she had to talk to Snape, and she didn't know how much time Harry would keep them in the Common room and – sincerely - she didn't know if she could afford another night without sleep.

"But you have just arrived, maybe you would like to stay a bit longer." She smiled dearly at the politeness of her friend.

"I have already had enough; we can go anytime." She repeated as – unexpected by everyone – Argus Filch dragged in Draco. For a few minutes, nobody talked, and they were openly staring the scene. Politely, Professor Slughorn gave Draco permission to stay, but Snape intervened asking Draco for a word in private. Draco himself didn't seem quite happy about the turn the events had taken but he didn't have the chance to protest as the sharp glare of his Head of House kept him at bay.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" Harry exclaimed with a suspiciousness she had not heard in a while in his voice and before she could say something to justify the unjustifiable scene – at least at Harry's eyes – she was dragged by her friend to follow the two Slytherins.


They happened in a corridor just out of the office, hiding behind a stone wall as they spied on the scene that unfurled before them. It looked like Draco nor Snape had heard them coming right behind them and was oblivious of their presence, Snape pushed Draco against the wall not too gently as they could see Draco's flinch of pain as his back crashed to the wall.

Not satisfied enough, though, Snape grabbed him by the collar underlining the height difference between the two. "Listen to me; I'm trying to help you Draco, I swore to your mother that I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow..." Snape hissed, not too low as they could still hear each distinct word of the conversation.

"Looks like you will have to break it, then, because I don't need your protection! It's my job, he gave it to me, and I'm doing it. I've got a plan, and it is going to work. It's just taking a bit longer than I thought it would" Draco tried to regain some of his haughty composure, but it paled compared to the anger that was shown on Professor Snape's face.

"You don't know who you are messing with, Draco. I have no intention of stealing your glory if that is what you thought, but I have no intention of losing my life either. If you refuse my help, we will both die, is that what you want?" At the harsh words of his Professor, Draco paled even more than when Filch had dragged him into Slughorn's office.

"I... I don't, I... just..."

But his hesitation was interrupted by Snape's usual drawl. "Meet me in my office in ten minutes. Shall you not be there, I will do it my way, and I can't assure you how it might end." He threatened as even Hermione couldn't refrain from gulping as those words seemed to promise the worse in his most potent tone. He then stormed away with his billowing cloak leaving a dark trail behind his back and a Draco completely drained out cascading on the floor.

"Still convinced that Snape is on our side?" Her eyes were still fixed on the pale figure of Draco when Harry's sarcasm interrupted her thoughts.

"Don't take everything for granted, Harry, we don't know what exactly there is behind that conversation." But she knew it was useless: that conversation had been shady, had she not known what was behind it and she didn't forget that she could never reveal it to Harry.

"How can you still defend him after what you have just seen?" Hermione pushed herself off the wall, starting to walk away from the cold hallway and directing herself to the Common Room, sure that Harry would follow her. She didn't have much time, it was already 9 PM, and she could feel the effects of a night without sleep as she dragged herself over the seven flights of stairs to reach her dorm.

"Because Dumbledore trusts him." But she knew it was a pathetic excuse and anyway, soon enough, she would not be able to defend him anymore, even if he succeeded in their plan.

"It's obvious that Dumbledore is unaware of what he has been up doing, we all were. We have been fooled, Hermione!" She angrily put a finger to her lips to shush him.

"Don't shout, Harry! We don't know who could be hearing!" She reprimanded him as she looked around making sure nobody was around. Harry made to look around them in haste, too, and as soon as he was sure nobody was on the moving stairway with them, he resumed his theories about Snape and his double game.

"We have to tell Dumbledore, Hermione! He has to know what's happening behind his back!" She knew it was impossible to convince him not to act so hastily on mere assumptions. It would be a waste of time, and she could only hope that he would speak to Dumbledore first, in the hope that the Headmaster would be able to quiet him on the subject in some way, before he may act on his suspects.

"Alright, alright! We will tell him... tomorrow." And with that reluctant promise, she was able to make him calm down all the way to the dorm.


"So, let's see if I got it right: the Dark... Voldemort has, years ago, hidden fragments of his soul in different objects – called Horcruxes – in order of obtaining immortality, which can only be achieved after murdering for in this way the soul would be already damaged and fragmented. That is why he was able to come back after all those years." Hermione said as she tried to make sense of all the information Harry had just given them.

"That's it, yes." He replied with sureness, nodding his head.

"So if we destroy these Horcruxes-" continued Ron. "-we would kill Voldemort once and for all?" Harry kept nodding with enthusiasm.

"How many are there?" Hermione asked as, every once in a while, she checked the clock: 9.30 PM. Would Snape have already finished his chat with Draco?

"We don't know for certain, but Dumbledore suspects that there are quite a few of them. We have already destroyed one unknowingly: Riddle's diary." He replied triumphantly.

"So now what? I mean, how do we find all the others? How do we destroy them?" Ron kept asking as his eyes looked still a bit confused.

"Dumbledore and I should go looking for one in a few days. We think that Voldemort has hidden parts of his soul in objects that could have a special meaning for him, such as his diary. So this is what we are trying to do: look back in Dumbledore's memories regarding Riddle to understand which objects may be potential Horcruxes." He replied with a certain pride. "About how to destroy them, I destroyed his diary with a Basilisk fang, but Dumbledore is convinced that there are other ways. We are working on it." So Harry had been working in strict contact with Dumbledore just as she had with Snape. It reassured her as she could feel a bit of her guilt melt away at that notion. She knew, though, that if Harry had confessed everything now, for her, it would take much longer, maybe even months, before she could tell them everything or even just a part of it.

"Alright... so what do we do in the meantime? I mean, Hermione and I." She hoped that Harry's reply would be a resounding "nothing" for she didn't have time for some other crusade.

"Hermione and I have just listened to an interesting conversation between Snape and Draco. I believe -" and Harry didn't spare himself a meaningful and hurt look at her at those words. "- that Snape is betraying us and he is actually working for Voldemort." She sighed defeated: if defending Snape would be difficult now, she wouldn't imagine how it would be like once he killed Dumbledore – for real or for pretense.

"Why? What's happened?" Ron asked confused as he got nearer to them, forgetting Harry had performed a Muffliato even if the Common Room was deserted.

"Snape said that he had made an Unbreakable Vow to Draco's mother to protect him. Malfoy has been given a task, a difficult task, by Voldemort and Snape had insisted that Draco should let him give him a hand." Harry explained with a certain fire of spite.

"An Unbreakable Vow? Are you sure?" Ron asked in disbelief with gouged out eyes.

"Yes, why?" She already knew what was to come.

"Because if he is not able to keep up with his oath, he will die," Ron replied solemnly and she could almost re-hear Snape's voice warning her of that danger when they had been in the Headmaster's office.

"But then why...?" Harry said confused, his eyes locking with theirs in search of a plausible explanation.

"It makes no sense: why would Snape risk his life for Draco?" He repeated when none of them had come up with an explanation as if by repeating the question there were more chances that an answer would come right before their eyes.

She knew why and they could not know. Not now, maybe ever.

"Anyway, we have to tell Dumbledore." He kept repeating as if whatever cause might be behind it wouldn't change the outcome of his resolution.

"I don't know; maybe we should wait a bit longer. I believe that maybe Dumbledore knows something already: it is impossible that something as huge as this could have escaped his notice. Maybe, he has included Snape's betrayal in his plan already." Ron spoke with a certain diplomacy, hoping to cool his friend's heated mood but Harry wouldn't have it. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What? Now you agree with Hermione? How can you be so blind not to notice Snape's real loyalties?" He stood up enraged, his shoulders stiff as his burning green eyes were fixed on them both.

"And how can Dumbledore be so blind not to notice it, Harry? There must be an explanation." She intervened as she hoped that her answer would give him a little of lost good sense back.

"Because he trusts him, maybe because he is as blind as you two are." And with that last enraged remark, the conversation was over. He took his wand out and finished his silence spell before walking to his dorm in pure fury.

"Don't mind him, Hermione, it's the connection with Voldemort that makes him act so weird," Ron reassured her as they stood up, too. It was 10 PM already. She hoped Snape was still up for their conversation.

"I know, Ron, I know. It is just a matter of time now." She added solemnly as her gaze was still fixed on the spot on the stairway where Harry had disappeared. Ron didn't seem to catch the full meaning of what she had just said and, after all, he really could not, but he nodded his assent anyway.


She ran through the corridors, her wand in hand ready to cast a Disillusionment Charm if needed; but nobody was around, and she briefly wondered if they were all still at Slughorn's party or if they had gone to bed already. It was quite early to go to bed, though, in a day like that: it seemed as if even in the air the darker moments that were soon to come could be smelled.

In less than ten minutes she reached the dungeons. She had not even had the time to change herself, and in the end, she didn't mind to be seen dolled up for once by Snape. That night his robes – if possible – had been even more seductive than ever. She smiled a ridiculous smile, and she could feel her cheeks burn up at the memory of his profound gaze staring her as soon as she had entered Slughorn's office.

This time, not wanting to leave anything to chance, she cast the Disillusionment Charm on herself before approaching the little wooden door down the tight corridor.

She whispered the password, and she was in.

He was already there, sitting on his couch, his legs crossed and his back straight. His long black hair formed a gentle curtain on his hidden face as his eyes were concentrating on a book on his lap. He looked regal, controlled, calm. Hermione envied his control. She sensed, with no doubt, that he had been waiting for her.

Fast, she finished her charm, and she appeared right in front of him with her coiffed hair and pretty dress. Finally, slowly, he raised his head, and his black eyes were once again visible. She could almost see his breath catch in his chest at her sight, even though he looked wholly collected if not for his pupils that shone more brightly than ever.

She stood there, incapable of moving, as she enjoyed being watched by him with that cracked composure. He stood up, slowly, his eyes never wavering away from her figure as he took two slow steps towards her and only then, she snapped out of her stillness.

Without breaking her eyes away from his, she neared him just as slowly, and every step seemed to take longer than a lifetime as if with each step she was sealing a significant achievement. He stood still, no matter how nearer to him she got, he didn't move, he didn't back away from her slow progression, and that impossible immobility pushed her to dare more. She stopped just when she felt her breast touch his sternum. Her gaze was finally distracted by his fast breaths: his nostrils flared, his chest moved ferociously against hers as if the air that came through every broad movement was still not enough and in his usual scowl he looked almost... enraged at her bold behavior and at his stillness that wouldn't budge under his will.

She lifted her hand to his chest - always too slowly - and she grazed every button that she would encounter in the path that would let her fingers reach the skin on his neck. At the first touch, his chest heaved one last time, profoundly, before stopping for some seconds, as if that first touch on his bare skin had been almost unbearable. Then, with a little burst, his chest moved again under the weight of her arm.

She lifted her gaze on his eyes once again, and his face seemed gentler with his scowl almost gone as if – finally – he had decided to lose that internal battle and to give in to her tender and tentative ministrations. She celebrated her victory getting on her toes to reach his lips with hers, for – for how much he had decided to let her win – he would not make it easier for her by lowering his head a little. She could feel his raging breath on her lips, and she could see his giant pupils fix her mouth with an uncontrollable desire. She admired his control but, more than all, she admired the lack of hers. Closing her eyes, she closed that little distance and finally, her lips touched his, softly, almost imperceptibly. He still didn't dare move, though by then her body was pressed entirely against his and her lips had no intention of moving away from his mouth.

And so – she thought – finally they kissed. His lips didn't part at the pressure of hers, but she didn't give up in front of his stupid obstinacy to resist her, as if, by not responding to her lips, he had not done anything inappropriate. Affronted by that stubborn resistance, she became bolder, and her hands gripped his neck tightly, almost painfully as she let her tongue slip out and lick his unmovable lips. And just then, with a grunt of disapproval mixed to relief, he finally let his lips move under her unbearable pressure. She couldn't help a moan of approval from escaping her mouth as she pushed her body more firmly into his. As his control crumbled altogether at her insistent impudence, he moved his hands around her hips, pressing them so gently into him.

Too excited by his sudden compliance and eagerness, she had to detach her lips from his mouth for a while to take her breath back. His pupils, if possible, were even larger than before and she had never seen a more erotic image than his lips swollen by their kiss than his breath made furious by their excitement and than his hair disheveled by her hands. What she had in front of her was a Professor Snape who had lost control for her and nothing had ever aroused her more.

She kept looking at him with a look of total adoration. Her hands resumed their caresses but more gently on his face, tracing each and one of his particular traits, and he looked... content with this attention as his hands couldn't help but trace her back in a gentle and almost distracted caress.

Taking back his control sooner than her, he started talking in his usual deep drawl, but she appreciated that his hands were still on her body, cuddling her, soothing her.

"I spoke to Draco an hour ago: it is just a matter of days now." He whispered more soothingly than ever as if their incapacity to find a solution sooner would have more consequences on her than on him.

"I still want to try to brew the potion. Besides, we could still try to save Dumbledore and then resume our project as soon as things calm down." She replied with her usual enthusiasm, heightened by the concrete hope that she could have more of him.

"We cannot risk being discovered if we are not sure that the Headmaster will be truly healed by the potion." She couldn't help but wonder what those words, in fact, implied. If the Dark Lord discovered out their plan, if they could not carry it out as planned, the consequences would fall on Snape. Would it be worth it?

"Then I will start brewing the potion right away and I won't stop till I succeed." She replied almost enraged by his lack of faith in her. The truth, though, was that – deep down – she also didn't believe it could truly work, not in such short time.

He raised a confused and hurt eyebrow at her outburst. "Suit yourself but remember that you still have to go to classes. We can't risk that our collaboration is made public. We are walking a thin line here, Granger, don't forget it." He reminded her with a certain bitterness as he let his arms fall from around her hips. She missed that little soothing touch immediately.

"I'm quite aware of it. How much time?" She asked in a rash as she tried to calculate the spare hours she could use to brew the potion.

"We have time until Monday, perhaps till Tuesday: Draco has almost succeeded in mending the Vanishing Cabinet situated in the Room of Requirement. In this way, other Death-Eaters will witness the peril of Dumbledore at his hand or – much more probably – at mine." He reached his desk, grabbed some unpaired parchments and, giving one last look at them, he handed them to her.

"This is all I could do in the little free time I had. I also bought some thickeners and all the ingredients - the ones we went through a couple of days ago - are all aligned on the desk in my office. You should also brew the Draught of The Living Dead. I shall meet the Dark Lord to inform him about mine and Draco's plan now, but as soon as I come back, I will try to help you brew the potion. Obviously, don't try anything that may have an uncertain outcome until I am back." He then went to his room and retrieved his black cloak and mask. She stood there, not capable yet of moving to his office, as if something was clearly missing.

As soon as he emerged back from his bedroom, she neared him with tentative steps. "Please, be careful." She added in a silent whisper, suddenly ashamed of her apparent preoccupation for his well-being.

He hinted a small – almost tender – smile, a gesture so comfortingly unusual for him. "I will try not to be away too long." And even as he finished pronouncing those words, he stood there just like her. She took that clear chance to near him some more and to raise her hand to caress his face. It was a gesture that had soon become so dear to her: she liked having the possibility, the permission even, to touch him so tenderly. She understood quickly enough that he was still not ready to initiate even the gentlest of touches with her, but she didn't mind as long as he wanted her to. It was so clear with his ragged breath and his large dark pupils, and she couldn't help a tiny smile of satisfaction at those unmistakable signs. Once again, she rose on her toes, still so surprised of his height compared to hers, and gave him a soft brush on the lips. She was shocked when, before having a chance to get back to her work, he grabbed her hips and deepened their kiss with a soft groan of relief. Oh Merlin, if that unusual and so private sound didn't go directly to her core as her cheeks ignited with the sweetest excitement. But as soon as it had started, he pulled away and exited the room in a rush, his billowing cloak the only sign of his sudden departure.

It took her more than ten minutes before she was composed enough to start the potion without having the castle crumbling down.