I sincerely apologise for the shocking quality of the last chapter. :S. I hope this one makes up for it. Again, thankyou to everyone who reviewed, please do write so more.

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During the course of the day, Hermione felt like there was a dreary cloud hanging over her head, an impenetrable layer of awkwardness and distance. The progress that Hermione thought that they had gained over the few days they were together was slowly dissipating. Snape's mood was indifferent; barely a word was uttered from his mouth. Hermione was behaving unnaturally demure, the prickly sense of shame and rejection crawling up her spine. Was Snape mad at her? Or was he just annoyed? Or was he affected by a different matter entirely? After all, Lily had died four days ago. To Hermione the time she had spent with Snape felt strangely unparallel to the world she came from. In fact, it felt like an age when she was last with Harry or Ron. She was becoming part of the past, letting herself be swallowed into the unknown.

Snape entered the quarters he and Hermione were sharing shortly after lunch. Hermione excused herself earlier after Madam Pomfrey profusely requested that Hermione rest, not without added threat of rehospitalisation, well, compulsory nights in the hospital wing at the risk of over exaggerating.

Snape was not one for confiding in others, and certainly not known for having feelings. He found that he was retreating inside himself. Any lesser man would have broken down by now, but Snape had the remarkable ability and curse to be able to hold up a cool façade even in the most desperate situations. Since he was not yet a proper teacher, Snape did not have the luxury to escape to the dungeons where he could brew for hours, a mindless distraction. At the moment, without distraction, Snape only had his thoughts to occupy him and now his thoughts revolved around Lily. Her death had not become any easier on him as the days passed. Of course, he concealed remorse well but in the end it did not make it any easier to cope. He was drowning, being pulled down by the undercurrent, struggling to stay on the surface.

Hermione was sitting at the table, a book capturing her attention. As Snape entered, Hermione looked up briefly and looked at him strangely, as if she was apologising without words. Snape resisted a scowl, he was very much trying to hold his emotions together. The news of Hermione's physical state was another block on the teetering tower of Snape's problems right now and he could not let that over run him. Forcing his features to stay relaxed, he asked as conversationally as he could, "What are you reading?"

"I'm doing some research on time travel."

Snape noted the dark, snake skin complexion of the book cover and raised an eyebrow. It looked very much like the material that came out of the restricted section. In fact, it looked like a book on dark magic.

"Where did you acquire that book?"

"Restricted section" she replied as it if was perfectly normal.

Snape raised his eyebrow even further. His suspicions were correct.

"Arent you a bit too-"

Hermione put the book down and retorted, "Too what Severus? Too young? Too inexperienced? "

Snape was thinking more of a word similar to "Innocent" but decided not to voice it. Hermione seemed just about on edge as he was. Deciding to keep things civil, he continued, "And? What have you found out?"

"Well" began Hermione, as Snape did not know of her impulsive tendency to reiterate anything she had just read, "It says that time travel is an extremely complicated branch of magic and it is hardly ever accurate. Similar to apparation, it requires a great deal of focus and determination. Most people fail on first attempt."

"How is it done?" asked Snape, genuinely curious. He had heard very little on the practise of time travel.

"It says that more than one method can be used, depending on the length of time travelled and the level of experience. It seems like almost every method requires some sort of dark magic."

Hermione spoke of dark magic as if it was repulsive and dirty. Snape thought of dark magic with respect and fascination. He was unfazed, if he were to travel in time, the use of dark magic would not hinder him.

"Anyway" said Hermione, closing the book, "Most of the magic required is pretty gruesome". She pushed the book away from her, as if it was offensive.

Snape waited a second and then proceeded with his impending question, "How did the Dark Lord go back?"

"He used a pentagram" Hermione answered after hesitation. , "He wrote the date, and somehow must have reached Godric's Hollow."

"He is a very powerful wizard, Hermione, I'm sure nothing is below him."

"You'd be surprised." Hermione said, a little darkly. Snape glanced at her with suspicion but she did not elaborate. Suddenly irritated, he excused himself and made his way to the dungeons.

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A withered but not particularly old woman knelt before her master. She tried to calm her breathing but as usual found her attempts unsuccessful. But for the first time excitement creped inside her. Her master would be pleased, very pleased.

"My Lord" her raspy voice resounded throughout the dimly lit room.

"Give it to me." Was his demand.

The gnarly hand of the woman reached into her robes and produced a small vial which contained a silvery looking liquid.

"Here, My lord." The woman handed over the vial, letting her eyes met with his for the tiniest of a millisecond.

"You better not have failed me this time, the Dark Lord does not forgive easy, if it all."

The woman swallowed and mustered her confidence, "I assure you My Lord, it is perfect."

White, deathly fingers enclosed on the vial, concealing it within his robes.

"We shall see."

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Night descended over the grounds of Hogwarts. Hermione sat in bed, her eyes focused on the shimmering lake and the distant mountains. The room was not cold, but Hermione wrapped her arms around her legs nonetheless. She had not seen Snape after is hasty and rather rude departure earlier that day. She did not know why she was waiting up for him but it felt important to do so. She forced back a yawn and hoped he would return soon. She did not really have the motivation to leave the room and search for him. At the moment she rested her eyes for a second, letting herself relax.

Snape returned back to their quarters quite late in the evening. He had bid himself permission to use the dungeons and would not give a damn if Slughorn were to tell him otherwise. He felt a kind of savage disappointment when Slughorn appeared unfazed and that meant Snape could not channel out his anger on the man.

Snape noticed that Hermione was asleep, sprawled uncomfortably sideways on her bed, not under the covers. Taking off his cloak and draping it upon a chair, Snape turned around to observe Hermione. He stood there and contemplated on what he should do. Sighing as he came to a decision, he approached Hermione, gently pulled the covers out from under her. She mumbled and turned slightly but did not awake. Snape covered Hermione with the blankets. Still unsatisfied, he grabbed a pillow and placed it under her head. Hermione stirred and murmured, "Severus?". Snape froze anxiously, wondering if she was going to wake up and see him suggestively leaning over her sleeping form. It wasn't really the outcome he was hoping for. Hermione murmured his name again, her eyes fluttering.

"Sleep Hermione." said Snape, lingering a little longer. Hermione mumbled something incoherent and returned back to her sleeping stature. Snape let out a small sigh of relief before he went off to bed himself.

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Snape awoke the next day a little later than he intended to. He glanced at his watch and groaned. Slughorn was expecting him; he was going to let Snape assist him during the lesson. This displeased Snape highly as he did not wish to "assist" Slughorn. But alas, Dumbledore agreed, saying it would be beneficial for Snape to gain some teaching experience before he began his post, once Slughorn decided to finally leave.

Snape hurriedly changed into his robes, and practised his most menacing scowl. Soon he would be teaching students only a few years younger than him so he needed to be intimidating, he didn't want them to get the upper hand.

After getting dressed, Snape collected his papers upon the table when Hermione joined him.

"Morning Severus." She said brightly.

"I have to go assist Slughorn in teaching today." He said back to her, folding his papers into a neat pile.

"Oh."

Snape retreated from the table to the bookshelf and selected a few texts; watching Slughorn teach would undoubtedly be dull and boring and he would need something to amuse him. Satisfied he turned around and faced Hermione, who was leaning against the table observing him. Beside her was a steaming mug of coffee.

"I'm going to need that coffee" he said, swiftly walking over to the table.

"Take it. I thought it was yours anyway."

"Must have been the house elves" explained Snape as he bought the cup to his lips. Snape took a sip and growled in frustration as the scorching liquid burnt his tongue. He placed the coffee back on the table.

"You can have it." And with that he strode out of the room, his robes billowing behind him. Hermione watched his departure and mused to herself. She had the most peculiar dream last night, and she had the strangest feeling Snape was in it. Silently dwelling on her thoughts, Hermione absentmindedly grabbed the coffee and took a sip. It wasn't that hot.

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By midmorning Hermione had already reached the library. She had not forgotten how much she loved this place, quite possibly her favourite place in Hogwarts. Strolling through the aisles Hermione found a book to read, Rare Potions and Ingredients: An Advanced Guide. She sat at the desk and turned randomly to page fifthteen and froze, her brain clicking away like clockwork. Fifthteen, the same amount of days she had left in this world. She was already on her fifth. Hermione tried to push this out of her mind and wondered why it made her feel so unnerved. Sighing audibly, she turned to her book and began to read.

Time passed, and Hermione was unaware as she scored through more and more books. Oceans of words slipped passed her eyes, her left hand twitched as she turned the page. Students entered, their busy chatter sounding muffled as if under water. Hermione's eyes drooped as she unsteadily pursued her book. She trembled, unnoticed to the rest of the library's occupants, her eyelids flickering, the noise drowning her senses. And then, her head slumped and she was out cold.

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Snape paced his quarters, awaiting Hermione. It was time for dinner and he thought it would be ideal if they went down together. He wanted the company of someone familiar to him, someone that didn't incessantly tell him what do to or give him the "Dumbledore Treatment", as he liked to call it. Hermione's presence, he decided, was somewhat reassuring.

Scowling at the clock, it dawned on Snape that Hermione wasn't going to make an appearance. Not knowing why this irritated him so, Snape headed towards the door when something caught his eye. Feeling his heart freeze in his throat, before he could comprehend what was going on, Snape flinched towards the window, as if it was a reflex action.

The moon poured down on the elusive darkness which was the Hogwart's grounds, like a path of shimmering pearls. From his view, Snape barely made out a figure, recognisable from the bushy hair, descending towards the Hogwart's gates. But it was sinister, the way Hermione seemed to glide along the ground, as if she was being drawn to something. Instinctively, Snape knew that he had to do something, that somehow Hermione mustn't reach the gates of Hogwarts.

Snapping into action, Snape moved so fast his was almost a blur. He flung open the door of his quarters and sprinted down the staircase. He needed to hurry, he didn't have much time. He brushed past students, knocking violently aside in his desperate struggle to make his way to the entrance door. He was vaguely aware of his mark burning painfully on his forearm, but this thought was quickly dismissed. Snape flew down the staircase, leaving a perplexed Mcgonagall in his wake. He could hear her call his name but he continued to run with increasing urgency. He was almost too late. Reaching the front entranced, Snape whipped out his wand and cast a furious unlocking spell. The doors swung open painfully slow and Snape squeezed through the opening , Mcgonagall hot on his heels. Hermione was now in sight, a lone figure on the horizon. For what it seemed like the one hundredth time, Snape cursed the anti-apparation charm on the castle.

"Hermione!" he yelled in fierce panic, "Hermione!"

Hermione did not notice his calling and continued towards the gate. Snape rapidly closed distance on himself and Hermione. The magic in the felt static and restless and Snape noted the change almost immediately. Something was definitely not right. Snape sprinted to Hermione, forcefully grasped her arm and pulled her around. Her face was very pale and her eyes were unfocused, dazed, as she did not even seem to notice what was happening.

"Hermione!" Snape demanded sharply as he shook her shoulders, she did not even register him. The eerie presence in the air seemed to engulf them both and Snape heard a voice, faint but distinctly and horrifyingly clear, Bring him to me. Hermione stiffened at the voice and her own hands rose to capture Snape's arms in a surprisingly iron grip. Snape attempted to throw off her hold but her fingers closed harder, in a way that Snape knew that they would cause bruises. Her nails clawed into the fabric, drawing blood.

Bring him. The voice of Voldemort commanded. Hermione obeyed, like she was processed and proceeded to pull Snape towards the gate with demanding strength.

"Hermione!" Snape snarled. Suddenly Mcgonagall was there, hastily trying to remove Hermione's grip from Snape.

"Get off!", Snape growled with panic as he tried to shake off Hermione. He was approaching the gate, becoming dangerously close. Fiery agony flashed through his arm, the spot of his mark and Snape gasped out loud. He was here. Voldemort was here. Mcgonagall let out a shriek of shock and fear and Snape whipped around, the best he could, as he was being forced backwards. His fear was correct. There, waiting patiently outside the gates was Voldemort himself, accompanied by Bellatrix. They both had their wands out and Bellatrix looked positively eager for revenge in the form of violence. Snape knew that they could not attack because of the protective spells, but still felt the fear and fury rise inside him.

"Ah, I only planned on drawing out Severus here, but with a strange turn of luck I have received three." Voldemort hissed, obviously pleased in his own sinister way. Bellatrix laughed maniacally at his words, her eyes glinting malevolently.

Mcgonagall pointed her wand and spoke with uncharacteristic harshness, "You are making a mistake. Leave now if you want to live."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes as his lip curled, "I was planning on sparing your life, Minerva, but now I am deliberating otherwise."

Snape was still struggling against Hermione's pull when her arms fell strangely limp. With sudden realisation, Snape discovered that Mcgonagall had her under the imperious curse, in attempt to control Hermione herself. He pulled from Hermione's grasp and turned towards his ex-master, his wand raised.

"Stand back, Severus" said a calm voice. Dumbledore was now by his side, his expression fierce.

"Dumbledore, it seems we meet again."Voldemort said cruelly.

"A little too much for my liking, Tom" replied Dumbledore casually but with a hard and confident edge to his voice.

"I'm sure you are impressed by my ingenious plan. Are you not wondering how I managed to get Hermione out of the castle?"

"Not at the moment, no Tom. Release Hermione, if you please." It was not a request, it was a demand.

"I don't think so Dumbledore, you see, that would undo my entire plan."

"Then Tom, you leave me no choice." Dumbledore turned to Hermione and cast a silent spell. Her body convulsed violently and then collapsed.

"Minerva, Severus, would one of you take Miss Granger to the hospital wing?"

Mcgonagall hastily obeyed, hovering Hermione's limp form as she raced towards the castle.

"What's wrong Severus? Worried about your filthy mudblood girlfriend?" jeered Bellatrix. Snape's anger spiralled and before he knew what he was doing he had reached the gates, his hands shaking the bars violently.

Bellatrix laughed hysterically at Snape's performance.

"Severus." Dumbledore spoke, as if it was a warning. Snape fought to control his rising emotions and stood back from the gate, his chest rising rapidly.

"It seems," Voldemort spoke, "That I will gain nothing tonight." His voice was eerily calm but both Snape and Dumbledore could sense something lurking beneath the surface. Voldemort's terrible crimson eyes met theirs and waited a second.

"You have one minute to save the mudblood, if she is not already dead."

And with that Voldemort disapparated, followed by Bellatrix who shot them a triumphant glance before following her master.

Dumbledore turned to Snape, who found himself oddly numb as Voldemort's words repeated themselves in his head over and over again, like a dreadful nursery rhyme, If she is not already dead

Already dead

Dead.

And suddenly both he and Dumbledore were running again.

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