Just a reminder once again that any text or dialogue taken from the canon does NOT belong to me!

The next night, when Hermione went to his lab, Snape made no mention of their discussion the previous evening. She was aching to ask him more. There were so many questions bouncing around in her head, driving her mad. They brewed without a word to each other that didn't involve the potion at hand, yet she knew he was anxious too. But at least he had books full of answers to the many questions she was contemplating.

Snape took it upon himself to add the wolf's blood drop by drop. It was a crucial step. He held the dropper steadily and let a single droplet fall for every three stirs counterclockwise. To be safe, he charmed the stirring rod to stir perfect circles without his help. Suddenly, he hissed in apparent agony, pulling his left arm against his body, but not allowing his right arm to lose focus. Hermione watched in shocked alarm as he grimaced through the next two drops before setting the dropper down.

"Are you alright?" She cried, stepping toward him. He hastily retreated from her.

"Watch the potion, Granger!" she stepped back to the cauldron, but it had to simmer for five minutes and didn't need her attention now. He did.

"What happened?" she asked with concern.

"Nothing," he replied sternly. "I have to go. You can go on without me." He was clutching his arm to him as if it were burning. Oh my God! Hermione suddenly realized what was happening. He was being called away.

He was going to see Voldemort!

She had been sitting in the hallway for about an hour, she reasoned. When she had finished the brewing for the night, she had waited for him in the lab. Eventually, however, she decided that he would know how much longer she would have taken and would not reenter through the lab. So, she had cleaned up the mess and gone to sit outside in the hall to wait. And wait.

Maybe he came back while I was in the lab? She considered. It was possible. A few more minutes of waiting won't hurt. But it was far past curfew already. Will he deduct points? That's silly. Of course he will! Hermione bit her lip. Well I don't care! I'm not going to sleep while he's out facing the dark lord.

And so she waited.

And waited.

Severus stared down at the carpet of curly hair spread in front of his office door. So, Granger had waited for him. Foolish Gryffindor. But something about the subtle—or not so subtle, actually—gesture of waiting for him made him feel strangely warm.

Something twisted inside of him. He couldn't handle this mushy gushy nonsense! So he pressed the toe of his boot into her side a couple of times. She groaned and rolled over, then sat bolt upright and met his gaze.

"Making a habit of sleeping in the corridors, Miss Granger?" he drawled. She quickly stood up. Even in the low light of his glowing wand he could see a blush blooming in her cheeks.

"Sorry, Professor. I was just…" she broke off, looking away. He raised an eyebrow.

"You were just?" She bit her lip and ran her hand nervously through her hair. Gods, he wanted to do that himself.

"I was waiting… I know you go all the time and you come back fine, but I was still worried. I'm sorry professor. I didn't know you would be gone so long. I just knew I wouldn't be able to get to sleep if I didn't know you were safe…"

"Apparently, you were mistaken," he sneered. But a part of him felt so uplifted it made him dizzy. She wanted to know I was alright. She was worried. About… me. She smiled brilliantly at that.

"I guess you're right," she admitted shyly. Gods how he wanted to hold her to him now. Visits with the dark lord were worth it with her to come back to.

But you don't have her 'to come back to,' he reminded himself. He found himself scowling, but she didn't cower. Instead, she lifted her pretty, little chin in defiance.

"You really can't blame me for being concerned. After all, you left so abruptly, obviously in pain, with no explanation whatsoever…" He blinked at her. Did she not know where he had gone? Of course she did!

"I would think it would be obvious, Miss Granger."

"Well, yes, but…" she floundered. "You still can't blame me!" He sneered maliciously at that and stepped toward her.

"I can, however, do a number of other things." Her eyes went wide and he knew immediately where her mind had gone. He had been about to say that he could deduct points or assign detention, but she had taken his words the wrong way. He was astonished, however, to note that there was no fear or disgust in her gaze. Rather, there was a spark of something different; something he had seen in her eyes at Slughorn's party when they had found themselves stuck under the mistletoe. Something akin to... desire.

Their eyes were locked and a haze of tension grew between them, pulling them together. At once their bodies seemed outrageously close and impossibly far away from each other. They may or may not have been breathing. He felt as if the distance between their faces was closing, but he was not sure if he was bending to her or if she was rising to meet him. Suddenly, he had a moment of vivid clarity that they were about to kiss.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," he gasped, his voice hoarse with need. "Don't let me catch you out of bed again." The girl reacted as if stung. Stepping away from him, she turned her eyes to the wall. "Do I need to escort you back to your tower, Granger?" She only shook her head.

"No, sir."

"Good. Then get some sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

With that, he entered his office and closed the door behind him. Bloody hell.

The next evening, before dinner, Severus found himself walking through the grounds with Albus. The old man frequently sought out his dark minion for these little chats and Severus always left them more angry than before. Right now he was positively livid. Not only had the man forced him onto a path that would eventually rip his own heart out, but he had confided significantly more important information with the Potter brat than he ever had with the man who was sacrificing absolutely bloody EVERYTHING for him! And the only thing stopping him from telling Albus how misplaced his trust had been was the fact that he would be throwing Granger under the bus too. Fuck them all!

But he couldn't just be silent about it, either. "What are you doing with Potter, all these evenings you are closeted together?" he demanded.

"Why? You aren't trying to give him more detentions, Severus? The boy will soon have spent more time in detention than out." As if that was HIS fault!

"He is his father over again—" he spat.

"In looks, perhaps, but his deepest nature is much more like his mother's." Oh fuck you for playing that old card! "I spend time with Harry because I have things to discuss with him, information I must give him before it is too late." Give HIM?! And not ME?!

"Information. You trust him… you do not trust me." His voice was forcibly calm.

"It is not a question of trust. I have, as we both know, limited time. It is essential that I give the boy enough information for him to do what he needs to do." Don't think I can help with this one? It's too important to entrust to a Slytherin?

"And why may I not have the same information?" Inside, he was seething.

"I prefer not to put all of my secrets in one basket, particularly not a basket that spends so much time dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort." Bastard!

Hermione sobbed desperately into the sheets of Ron's Hospital Wing bed. I almost lost him! The night before, Ron had inadvertently drunk a glass of poisoned mead, and Harry had saved him with a bezoar. Hermione was the only one who knew to whom Ron truly owed his life. Harry never would have known to use a bezoar if the Half Blood Prince hadn't suggested it. Their friend would be dead right now if it hadn't been for Severus Snape. Hermione shuddered with fear. The others had long since gone, but she couldn't pull herself away from the boy.

They were approaching wartime soon and there would inevitably be losses. She dreaded the thought of losing any of the people she loved. Harry. Ron. Professor Snape. She sobbed. The chances of him making it through the war with enemies on both sides of the line were not good. And Harry had always been in great danger as well. But his fate pretty much determined the war, so he had every Order member watching his back. So who is there to watch Snape's back? She clutched the sheets in despair and hoped to Merlin that her telling him about horcruxes didn't cause him harm in the future.

Hagrid had been in earlier and had accidentally confessed to overhearing Snape and Dumbledore fighting. She prayed Snape hadn't confronted him about Slughorn's memory. She could still hear Hagrid's voice in her head:

"well—I jus' heard Snape sayin' Dumbledore took too much fer granted an' maybe he—Snape—didn' wan' ter do it anymore—"

"Do what?" Harry had prodded.

"I dunno, Harry, it sounded like Snape was feelin' a bit overworked, tha's all—anyway, Dumbledore told him flat out he'd agreed ter do it an' that was all there was to it. Pretty firm with him. An' then he said summat abou' Snape makin' investigations in his House, in Slytherin. Well, there's nothin' strange abou' that! All the Heads o' Houses were asked ter look inter that necklace business—"

But what could it all mean? Hagrid thought Snape was overworked. Well, that's certainly true. But why would he be arguing about that when he now had an assistant to help with all of it? It just didn't make sense. What doesn't Snape want to do anymore? Spy? Certainly the Slytherin Head wasn't abandoning the Order! She just couldn't see him doing something like that. Oh, because you know him so well, she scorned herself.

And what about Slytherin? What does Dumbledore want him to investigate in Slytherin? It could just be the series of horrible 'accidents' to Gryffindors that had happened recently. But she had a really bad feeling that it was all related and that made her feel like everything was crashing down and culminating all at once. This was the beginning.

What about my parents? A war was coming and Hermione knew that they would be at risk. She was going to have to find a way to protect them, even if it meant sending them off to some far-off place where she may or may not ever see them again. Her heart ached even thinking about it, but that would be far better than leaving them as exposed and vulnerable targets. They were part of this war, too. Like it or not, she was going to become a target, and so they were too.

Whaddya think? Don't be mad at me for being a horrible tease! It'll be worth it, i promise ;)