.

Thanks a lot for your reviews, they really make my day! I'm glad you agree with me that it's better to have their relationship develop slowly. I know it's frustrating, but I promise they'll kiss eventually ;-). Enjoy!

The price to pay

Hermione hardly slept that night, her mind too agitated by what had happened – or had nearly happened. She replayed her two conversations with Snape a hundred times, shocked by her own behaviour and susceptibility to his presence, and confused by his reactions. He had reacted in some way, that much she was sure of. But what it meant, and if it meant anything was something she didn't dare to phantom.

"That much for being careful and not trying to get closer to him," Hermione thought wryly as she lay in her bed, exasperated at her own lack of control. "Get a grip Hermione!" But her treacherous memory replayed the way he had looked at her, the things he had said, the touch of his cool fingers on her bare neck and the feeling as his fingers had brushed against hers. What should she make of it? And what should she do now? Still, nothing had happened, really, and so at the end Hermione decided to wait how Snape would behave the next day, and to act accordingly.

At breakfast he sat down at another table, only nodding at her curtly when she wished him a good morning. They departed shortly after and Stella and Christian drove them back to the glade in the forest from where they disapparated to Britain. All the time Snape treated Hermione in a slightly distanced way, and although she was confused and a bit disappointed, a part of her was also glad for it. If he wanted to act as if nothing had happened, she certainly could as well. For a few moments she even wondered if the events of the night before had been some kind of wild hallucination brought on by wishful thinking, but she trusted herself enough to know that something had happened, however hard Snape tried to behave as if it hadn't.

After they had apparated to the Hogwarts grounds they walked towards the castle in silence, Snape striding so fast that Hermione had trouble keeping up. As soon as they entered the castle he disappeared with hardly a good-bye. Hermione went to her rooms to get rid of her suitcase, and then set out to talk to Dumbledore about Padma.

As she had expected, the headmaster was intrigued by the strange coincidence of Padma's accident and Hermione's kidnapping. He agreed that there was as yet no evidence that they were connected, but said that he'd ask Arthur Weasley for more information, and would also tell his friends in St Mungo's to keep an eye on Padma.

Hermione hardly saw Snape during the following days, and the few times she met him he was distanced and moody. On Wednesday night, Snape was called by Voldemort. Hermione didn't know about it until the day after, when Lupin told her.

"I met him when he returned," he said as they were both sitting in the teachers' common room. "Gave me quite a start, to be honest, when I turned a corner and nearly bumped into him wearing his black Death Eater cloak."

"Was he all right?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"He wasn't injured, if you mean that." Lupin paused. "But he looked very drawn. He hasn't been called often lately, has he?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not as far as I know. Or at least not to take part in any of Voldemort's raids." Voldemort had kept a low profile during the last months, but Hermione knew that there were still sporadic attacks on muggles and other people who had somehow provoked his displeasure. "Severus said that Voldemort had enough new followers who were eager to take part in those attacks and whose loyalty Voldemort wanted to test by having them participate."

Lupin grimaced. "That's good for Severus, if bad for us. But he won't be able to keep away from Voldemort's attacks forever." He looked pensively. "Poor Severus," he finally said with a concerned expression, "what kind of life does he have…"

What life indeed, Hermione thought worriedly.

...

The next Saturday Stella, Matthew and Gareth came to Hogwarts. They spent the morning at the castle, visiting old haunts and saying hello to the teachers before they apparated to St Mungo's after lunch to visit Padma. She was laying in a room with two other patients suffering from spell-induced injuries, a woman who could not longer speak but only bark, and another woman who showed no outward symptoms, but whose arms where strapped to the bed. Hermione shot her a suspicious glance but then sat down beside Padma's bed and scrutinized her friend.

She looked as if she were sleeping. The injuries she had sustained in the accident had healed, and her face looked very peaceful, if rather pale. There was not really much they could do, apart from talking to her, and so they gave her all the latest news. After a while they ran out of things to tell and, after standing around uncomfortably for a few more minutes, they finally left. They met a healer in the corridor, but when they asked him what he thought of Padma's chances he just shrugged. "She was lucky she survived," he said. "I don't know if she'll ever wake up. And even if she does her mind might be affected."

They all felt rather downcast when they left the hospital. Stella proposed having something to eat and drink at a nearby muggle-café, but their talk was muted and they separated not long after.

Hermione spent the evening working for Anistaphala. With the potions for the ritual nearly finished, she at last had time to concentrate on her work for the Ministry again. But her mind kept wandering to the events of the afternoon and to the picture of Padma laying in the hospital bed. Would she ever wake up again? And if she did, would she be able to tell them what had happened, and if there was a connection to Hermione's kidnapping? Or had it just been a coincidence?

A few minutes after midnight Hermione left her rooms for Snape's laboratory. She had a potion brewing for Anistaphala which needed to be checked before she could go to sleep. The castle was dark and quiet, and she met no one apart from the Bloody Baron as she went down to the dungeons. Quickly Hermione went through the classroom laboratory and lifted the wards which guarded Snape's own laboratory. It was dimly illuminated by the flames under her cauldron, and she only lit a few of the magical lamps nearby to have more light at the table on which she was working. When she was satisfied with the light, Hermione got a glass spoon and stirred the potion carefully, scrutinizing its colour and smell. It looked all right and Hermione started to cut a few ingredients which needed to be added. When she had prepared them she stirred the potion for five minutes in a very precise fashion and then added the ingredients one after the other. She held her breath, as she always did at such a crucial moment, but the greenish colour of the potion slowly changed into a muddy brown one and she let out her breath in relief. Now she had to wait for another 28 minutes before she could add the last ingredient.

It was an infusion of yew bark and Hermione prepared it in a small cauldron nearby, but was done after a few minutes. Now all she could do was wait. She looked around the laboratory to find something to do, but as always it was in impeccable condition. Hermione sighed. She hadn't even thought about bringing a book, a sure sign how Padma's condition had preoccupied her. She started cleaning up her table as far as possible, checking on the potion from time to time, but finally sat down on a chair and looked out into the dark recesses of the laboratory, waiting for the 28 minutes to end.

Suddenly there was a noise and movement to her right and Hermione sprang up from her chair, pulling out her wand. In the dim light she saw that the secret passageway to Snape's private quarters had opened, revealing the dark figure of the Potions Master.

"Oh, it's only you," Hermione said, lowering her wand and feeling a bit embarrassed at her reaction. To her surprise she saw that he had shed his customary robes and was wearing black trousers and a white shirt which stood out against the dimness of the room. In all the months she had now worked with him she had never seen him with anything else but his robes or a muggle-suit – his armour, as she had come to call it.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, still standing in the doorway.

Hermione gestured to the cauldron beside her. "I had to work on a potion for Anistaphala. But I'll be done in", she looked at her watch, "two minutes. What about you?" She eyed him curiously. There was something strange about his behaviour. True, after their…encounter…in Germany he had been distanced again, but somehow this felt different.

"I wanted to get something," he replied rather vaguely, left the doorway and went towards a large cupboard at the opposite wall of the laboratory where he kept a supply of medical potions.

Hermione furrowed her brow, observing him. Something in the way he walked seemed slightly off. With a start she remembered her potion, and quickly added the last ingredient, stirring the mixture carefully in the required way. She heard Snape rummaging in the cupboard and then crossing the room again, surprisingly enough without giving as much as a glance to the potion she was brewing. He had already reached the door when she was finished and called out "Wait, Severus, is everything all right?"

He stopped in the doorway, holding three phials in his hands. Hermione heard a faint tinkling, and with a start realized that he was shaking, the phials in his hands clinking together. With a few steps she was at is side.

When she got closer to Snape the worry she was feeling grew. His face was very pale, which in itself wasn't that extraordinary, but there were deep, unfamiliar lines in it and a haunted look in his eyes. And he was shaking, a silent tremor which gripped his whole body. Hermione suddenly felt very anxious. Something terrible must have happened to bring him to this state.

"What happened," she asked, not able to hide the worry in her voice.

Snape retreated a bit into the darkness of the doorway, looking away from her. "Nothing," he said with fake composure. "If you'll excuse me, I had a long day." And he turned to leave.

"Wait," Hermione called out, reaching for his arm to keep him from leaving. He jerked it away from her immediately and retreated a step further into the dark corridor until she could hardly see his face.

"Would you please leave me alone," he said, and Hermione was hit by the pleading note under the customary snarl. She had never heard anything like this from him. There was something very wrong here, and she wanted to help him, but how could she do this when this notoriously private man kept pushing her away?

Hermione retreated a bit into the laboratory. "I'm sorry, Severus," she said slowly. "I didn't want to impose myself on you. I just had the feeling that something terrible has happened, and I was worried."

She waited for a reaction, holding her breath and staring at his dark figure in the corridor. "It's nothing to do with you," he finally said, "or the Order. Don't worry, your friends and parents are save."

Hermione heaved a sigh of relief. "But what has happened then?" She hesitated. "Has Voldemort called you again? So soon?"

The silence was confirmation enough. "Did he hurt you?" she asked carefully.

He laughed, a chilly, mirthless laugh which frightened Hermione. "Great Merlin, Hermione, why can't you just leave me alone," he said, anger and annoyance and something like despair in his voice.

"Because you are my friend, remember?" she replied quietly. "I can see you're not well, and I'm worried about you."

He gave an exasperated sigh and slowly came out of the dark corridor. "And if I can reassure you that I am fine you'll leave?" he asked.

She nodded, scrutinizing his face. "I will."

"Well," he said, clutching the phials to his breast to stop them from tinkling, "you're right, the Dark Lord called me tonight. But as you can see I'm not harmed, and as soon as I've taken these" he glanced down on the phials, "and get a few hours of sleep I'll be nothing the worse for wear."

Hermione scrutinized the phials. "Headache Potion, a Sleeping and a Calming Draught?" she asked, relieved to know that he obviously didn't need anything stronger.

"As I said, I wasn't harmed."

"But something else has happened, hasn't it?" she said softly, holding his gaze.

He broke the eye-contact and clenched his jaw. "Has anyone ever told you that this curiosity is rather unattractive," he said in an attempt at his customary snarl.

She shrugged her shoulders. "You know I'm an inquisitive person." Catching his gaze again, she saw a haunted expression in his eyes. Suddenly there was a clangour which made her jump, but when she looked down she realized that it was only one of the phials which he had let slip and which had broken on the floor.

"Damn!" he muttered under his breath, staring down at his feet. Hermione got her wand out, cast Evanesco and Reparo and knelt down to pick up the now empty phial. Getting up again, she saw that Snape's tremor had intensified.

"Why don't you tell me what happened?" she asked softly, reaching out to take the two other phials from his shaking hands. He held onto them for a second, then let go, crossing his arms in front of his breast.

"Because it's none of your business," he said in a dull tone. His behaviour and especially his shaking frightened her more than she dared to show. Snape seemed to be in some kind of shock, and she couldn't just leave him now. Putting down the phials on a table nearby, Hermione summoned a chair and cast a spell to make the room a little warmer. "Sit down," she said in her best nurse voice, and to her surprise he complied without a comment. "I'll get you a new Sleeping Draught. I think you better take these now," she said, gesturing to the Headache Potion and the Calming Draught. He reached out for them and downed them, a faraway look in his eyes as if he wasn't really present. Hermione went to fetch the Sleeping Draught from the cupboard, taking another Calming Draught with her. When she returned to Snape she conjured a glass of water which he drank in thirsty draughts. His shaking had lessened a little, but Hermione still wasn't sure if he wasn't in some kind of shock, and accordingly lit a fire in the fireplace and then got out of the teachers robes she was wearing against the chill of the castle's corridors and put them around his shoulders.

"This isn't necessary," he murmured, trying to shrug off her robes.

"Yes, it is," she said sternly.

His mouth tucked in a wry smile. "Playing nurse?"

Hermione conjured another chair for herself and sat down opposite of him, their knees nearly touching. "If it's necessary. Is there anything else I can do?"

He shook his head. "No." He hesitated. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He conjured a second glass of water himself and took a few sips. Hermione was quiet, not sure how to proceed. Should she try to make him talk, although he obviously didn't want to? Or should she just leave him alone and go to bed? Snape was looking down on his hands now. The tremor had eased and the long, slender fingers lay still in his lap.

"Why don't you want to tell me what happened?" Hermione finally asked softly.

"Because it doesn't concern you," he replied in a tired voice.

"But it obviously troubles you."

He laughed his mirthless laughter again. "Didn't I tell you not long ago that you ask too many questions?"

She felt hurt, and she knew that that was exactly what he had wanted to achieve with his reference to their quarrel several weeks ago. "Why do you push me away?" she said softly. "I just want to help you."

He closed his eyes for a moment. "I don't need your help," he said flatly.

On an impulse, Hermione reached out to take his hands which were still lying in his lap. He jerked them away immediately, his eyes flashing angry sparks. "Merlin, Hermione!" he hissed, "can't you just stop butting into my life? You're not a psychiatrist, and I'm not your patient! And neither am I Potter or Weasley who come running to you with every tiny problem they have to fix it for them."

"But you're my friend," she said, her voice shaking slightly now. "Are you not?"

Snape was silent, looking away from her again. "You say I am." He paused. "If you truly are my friend," he went on, "you should respect that there are things I don't want to tell you. Can you accept that?"

His eyes sought hers and she nodded slowly. "Please don't think that I want to pry, I just thought that you'd feel better if you told me."

A look of pain crossed his face. "Believe me, you wouldn't want to hear about it." And more quietly, as if talking to himself, he said "and I wouldn't want you to know."

A few minutes passed in silence, Snape staring down on his hands, his face shadowed by his dark hair. Hermione had a hunch what might have happened, and, her body tense with expectation, she finally asked.

"Did you have to do something terrible tonight?"

His head jerked up, his face contorted into a frightful grimace. "Something terrible?" His dark eyes burned into hers. "You still don't understand what I am, do you?" he hissed in a pressed voice. "What I did. And what I still do?" He was shaking again, if with fury or anything else Hermione didn't know. She was staring at him, transfixed by his anger and the frantic motion with which he suddenly tore at the sleeve of his left arm. When he had opened the cuff he jerked the sleeve upwards and held his arm towards her. The Dark Mark was starkly visible against the whiteness of his skin, a sinister black wound. "Do you see this?" he shouted, his voice rasping, "is it really so hard to understand what I am?"

Hermione was hit by the self-loathing in Snape's voice. His breath went roughly, his dark eyes still fixed on her face with a fierce expression. She felt fear and dread at the sight of the Dark Mark, but above all pain and sadness because of what Snape had gone through. Hermione gulped and suddenly noticed that tears had come into her eyes. Blinking heavily to hold them back, she stared down at his Dark Mark. She had never seen it before, and although she had known that it was there, its sight still shocked her. But she wouldn't let him think that she was repulsed by it, that she despised him for what he had done. Tentatively Hermione reached out with her right hand and very lightly touched the Dark Mark. Snape started but she lightly closed her hand around his underarm and whispered "Please don't." She looked up at him, scrutinizing his tense face. "Not what you have done in your past is important," she said, her fingers lingering on his arm. "And not what he forces you to do now. It's what you have decided to do. To risk your life to help and protect us and so many others." She smiled at him tentatively. "You are the bravest man I know."

"You are naïve," he replied, trying to make his voice sound dispassionate but failing. "You have no idea what you're talking about, you don't know what I did tonight."

Hermione felt coldness spreading through her body at his words, but she didn't break the eye-contact and she didn't let go of his arm.

"Then tell me," she whispered.

"No," he said flatly. Breaking the eye-contact, he looked down on his hands again and on her fingers still touching the Dark Mark.

Hermione felt very nervous, but knew she couldn't stop now. "Severus, I won't think any different or less of you, no matter what he forced you to do tonight," she said softly.

He looked up again and she was startled by the pain in his eyes. "Oh yes, you will," he said flatly. He stared at her with an unreadable expression for some time, then, after a few moments, he said with something like defeat "Stubborn Gryffindor. I don't think I'll get any sleep before I satisfy your curiosity."

Heaving an internal, relieved sigh, Hermione gave him a tentative smile. "No, you won't." She straightening up a bit and her hand left the Dark Mark. Instead she reached out her left hand as well and took his long cold fingers into her hands, pressing them very lightly. He didn't jerk them away, only looked at her in an unfathomable way. "Voldemort called you tonight?"

He nodded slowly, staring down at her hands wrapped around his fingers. "Yes. I hadn't expected that since he had called me only on Wednesday."

"What did he want," Hermione asked softly.

Snape raised his face again, meeting her eyes. "To test my loyalty," he said simply.

Hermione drew in her breath. "Has he found out anything about your work for the Order?" she asked worriedly.

"No," he shook his head with a wry smile. "If he had I wouldn't be here now. I don't know what the reason was, perhaps my attending Stella's wedding, or something else. Or perhaps he just thought that it was time again for me to show him my utter devotion."

Snape's voice trailed off and his eyes took on a faraway look, as if he wasn't really seeing her anymore. Hermione stayed quiet, holding his hands and waiting for him to go on.

"Do you remember Agnes Wilson?" he suddenly asked.

Hermione furrowed her brow, surprised by the turn the conversation had taken. "From Ravenclaw? Not well, she was four years above me, wasn't she?"

"Yes, she was," he replied in a flat voice, that strange distant look still in his eyes.

Hermione felt colder and colder, sure that something terrible had happened in which Agnes had obviously played a part. "What about her?" she finally asked haltingly.

"The Dark Lord took me and two followers to her," he said in that strange, unemotional voice. "I didn't know where we were heading, and even if I had known there was nothing I could have done. She was muggle-born, and she married a muggle, an old friend of hers, not long ago. They had a small child, a girl…" his voice trailed off.

Hermione felt a knot in her chest, a terrible foreboding of what had happened. Suddenly his fingers, which until now had lain still in her hands, grasped her fingers, pressing them so hard Hermione nearly gasped.

"He only told me where we were when we arrived. Agnes and her husband were still up when we entered their house, but they had no chance against Voldemort and three Death Eaters. She fought like a lioness, trying to protect her daughter…" his voice caught and his hands pressed hers even stronger, but she hardly felt it, transfixed by the pain in his burning eyes. "Somehow she managed to rip the mask off my face, and she recognized me immediately." His voice was hardly audible now. "The look in her eyes was…I don't know…so full of surprise. Utter surprise. And then shock. She stammered 'Professor, what are you doing?', and then one of the others killed her. Even when she was dead she still had that surprised expression on her face."

He was shaking again, and Hermione realized that she was trembling, too. A few hot tears ran down her face and she felt sick. "What happened to the child?" she asked in a hoarse voice.

He only shook his head. "I… I had to kill her husband," he said dispassionately after a few moments of silence. "The Dark Lord ordered me, and I couldn't refuse… I couldn't refuse…" His eyes were wide with terror and pain, his face so tense it looked like stone. Suddenly he looked down on their entwined hands, as if surprised that he was holding her hands so tightly, and slowly released his grip, but still held her fingers in his.

When he looked up again his face was more composed, but utterly weary. "That's what I did tonight," he said flatly, searching her face. "Didn't I tell you you wouldn't want to know? I made you cry."

Trying to hold back her tears, Hermione gave him a shaky smile. "I'm so sorry, Severus," she said, her voice trembling. "So sorry." She wanted to reach out to him, to hug him, to stroke his stony, tired face, to help him come to terms with what had happened and to show him that she didn't like him any less for it. But she knew she couldn't do that.

"So am I," he said flatly. He let go of her left hand and reached for the glass of water, but kept holding her right hand. He downed the water in a long gulp and then rubbed his forehead and temples. "I don't know how much more of this I can take," he suddenly said slowly, not looking at her but out into the depths of the laboratory. "You would think that it gets easier, after all those years, but it doesn't. It never does…"

"It might be over soon," Hermione said with false cheerfulness.

Snape's gaze returned to her face. "You have no idea how much I wish for that," he said, his eyes assuming their faraway look again. Suddenly he let go of her hand, brushed his hand over his brow and got up from his chair. "I'll go to bed now," he stated. "If you let me," he added with a rather forced wry smile.

Hermione got up as well. "Of course." She hesitated. "Thanks for telling me, Severus." She paused, unsure what to say. "I know it's not your fault," she finally said softly. "You must believe me that this doesn't change my regard for you."

He looked at her intently, the tenseness of his face lessening a little. "I wished that were true," he replied quietly. He gathered up the phials. "Thanks for listening." Then he turned abruptly, went towards the passageway to his quarters and left the laboratory.

When the wall had closed over the secret entrance Hermione sank down on the chair. Slowly tears began to run down her face again, tears for Agnes, her husband and her daughter, and tears for Snape, who, no matter how the fight against Voldemort would finally end, would have to live with his actions for the rest of his life.