Author's Note 1: Thank you to everyone for hanging in there and sending the "poke" and "Are you okay?" emails. This chapter really kicked my ass. Also, I realise that the last chapter was a little shocking. Alas, I can only say that the evilness continues and it will get worse before it gets better.

One of the chapters of the story that resonated with readers the most was the one in which Hermione created the Sleeping Sheets for Snape. Keladry has now taken the idea of the magic sigil from that chapter and created artwork for it. Please go and check it out. I think it is stunning and very true to the vision I had in my head when I wrote the chapter. Art here: http : // Keladry – lupin . deviantart . com / art / All – Through – the – Night – 116678416# (Don't forget to remove the spaces.)

Many thanks to whitehound and Keladry for their beta reading efforts.

And as usual, I have no patience and I'm posting this with only one beta's response (second beta to be added as soon as she's done.) So, here's me saying I can't wait 24 hours to hear back from my betas before posting. I have no idea how you guys wait between chapters without sending me death threats. -C

Chapter 35: Ripples

Hermione wasn't sure how long she cried, but eventually the ball of pain in her chest eased. It was still there, but muted now to a dull throb. She was also aware that she was still leaning heavily into Snape, her hands curled against the flat planes of his chest, while his strength supported both of them. Her thoughts drifted, buoyed by the safety and comfort she felt. And even though it came as a guilty pleasure, she didn't stop herself from burying her face in his shoulder to breathe in the comforting mix of herbs, smoke and Severus. A small, bitter-sweet smile curved her lips. Somewhere along the way he'd become Severus in her head and she doubted she'd ever get to say his name out loud.

Gradually though, she became aware that the man she was so comfortably wrapped around was, himself, anything but relaxed. It wasn't that he was standing rigidly, but he was unnaturally still. Even the chest she leaned against barely moved with each of his breaths. The hands that lightly cupped her shoulders neither pushed her away, nor enfolded her closer. If it had been anyone else, Hermione would have said there was no comfort offered here, and yet Hermione still felt that blanket of security wrapped around her as she leaned into him. She also knew she was being entirely unfair to him, inflicting her crush on him when he was so obviously ill-at-ease.

Tightening her hands one last time in the soft wool of his robes she let go, stepping back and away from him. She kept her face averted, knowing she was no delicate damsel with a pretty, tear-stained face. She knew she looked a complete mess with wayward strands of hair stuck to her wet face.

Together they stood in tense silence before Hermione heard him make a soft sound that was almost a sigh. A large hand gripped her elbow and led her back to the chair. When he withdrew she couldn't help but miss the warmth of his hand, even as she berated herself for being three kinds of fool.

A pristine white handkerchief was thrust before her. "Here," he said, brusquely, "compose yourself."

She bit her lip to hold in the smile at the dichotomy between his words and action and Hermione felt herself slide a little further down the slippery slope that was her attraction to Snape . . . to Severus.

"Sorry," she murmured as she blotted her face, knowing all the while there was no help for her puffy eyes and splotched complexion. Gathering her courage, she finally raised her head and gave him a watery smile. "Thank you. I didn't mean to . . . " She trailed off and gestured vaguely in his direction, not wanting to actually say the words 'blubber all over you.' "Thank you," she repeated.

He gave her back a small wry smile of his own. "You are not the first to cry on my shoulder, Miss Granger."

Back to Miss Granger, shethought, with a small pang of disappointment. He had been uncomfortable with the contact. The disappointment grew as he went about reestablishing the boundaries between them, though she couldn't fault him on it. Inappropriate, a part of her whispered, and Hermione couldn't disagree even when she wished she could.

Restlessly folding and smoothing the edges of the linen handkerchief, Hermione watched quietly as Snape pulled another chair around. Sitting so that there was an acceptable distance between them, he caught her eyes. "Listen to me Miss Granger. I know that you are hurting, but I need you to focus. The Headmaster warned you and the others for a reason. Tomorrow's Prophet will be a masterwork of Ministry propaganda, designed by the Dark Lord himself, to feed into the fears of the wizarding populace."

"How can they all just accept it? Why doesn't anyone question what they're being told? How can the people at the Ministry just go along with everything that a virtual stranger who has just appeared at the Ministry is telling them?"

"I suppose it wouldn't make much sense to you, or probably much sense to any Muggle-born. When Muggle-borns and their parents are first introduced to our world, two words typically come to up to describe us."

"Victorian," she guessed, having heard her father use this description on numerous occasions.

Snape gave her a small nod. "Quaint," he said with small sneer, "would be the other word. As you yourself have noted, we do not accept change as a society easily. We cling, rather tenaciously, to our pasts and our traditions. Unlike the Muggle world, we have more or less a single source of news. Only The Quibbler maintains any true independence and it is largely ignored. Family names, dynasties if you will, are known and recognised by almost everyone. As a society we rarely question those in authority. You wish to know how this could happen? That is how. Our world is terrified and they are looking for a savior who will protect them without any effort on their parts. The less they have to get involved, the more they will follow along with any Ministry plans."

"And the Ministry is going to provide scapegoats."

"Then you understand."

She frowned. "But the Aurors?"

He sat back in his chair and gave her the look that intimated she'd just said something stupid. "Aurors are trained to follow orders, not to question them. Nor do we know who has been Imperiused or who among them is an actual supporter. Add in the fact that those who are true wish to take action, to do something productive and-"

"They'll leap at any course of action shown them without looking very carefully."

"Precisely. Which is why you must be prepared. Tomorrow is going to be worse than any day you've faced. Tomorrow, your classmates will turn on the Weasleys and any other students whose families have been targets, and on you for being friends with them."

She shook her head, not accepting his words.

"They will," he insisted, with such certainty that she couldn't help but believe. "The Weasleys have never maintained the status, influence, or wealth of the Malfoys or the Blacks, but their family name is just as well known and in its own way, powerful. To have them branded as traitors -"

She sucked in a hard breath at the word.

The hard eyes holding hers softened. "Get used to the word. They will be called traitors and worse. Many will turn their back on you, especially those of your own House."

She wanted to deny that, but couldn't. She knew how quick to judge those of her House could be. She only had to remember the times in the past that her Housemates had flipped between shunning and welcoming Harry.

She clenched her fingers tight around the handkerchief in her hand. "What do I need to do?"

"I wish I could tell you to focus Potter on his rage. What I need you to do is remind him of his compassion. The Prophet has recorded Potter speaking out against the Dark Lord too many times for him to be labeled a sympathizer now. Use that with the other students who are going to be affected. This will affect more than the Weasleys and Miss Bones before it is over. Pull those students together and put Potter at their head. Surround him with those who will need a comforting hand and not reckless charges into danger."

He paused then and grimaced. "And stop looking at me like that. I've told you before that I don't hate Potter. And I most certainly do not wish him to fail at this endeavor."

She gave him a small smile, feeling a glimmer of hope for them all.

Severus walked Granger out to the main hall, his stride shortened and his steps moderated to accommodate her slower pace. His impatience pounded at him, but none of his internal need to move expressed itself in his demeanor.

They walked in silence, for which he was eternally grateful. He simply didn't know the words to offer her solace. He knew his strengths, and giving comfort had never been one of them. For all that he'd given her a shoulder to cry on, he couldn't image that she'd drawn much consolation from him, especially when the minute her tears had dried he'd simply given her more dire news and an almost impossible task.

"Will someone check on Tonks?"

The question brought him back to himself with a start.

"She'll want to bury him." Granger did not elaborate on who he was.

Severus shut his eyes momentarily at her soft-voiced comment and the new wound he knew he was about to inflict on her. "I will ensure that the Headmaster sends someone, but she will not . . . the Aurors took Lupin's body." At his words, her step faltered momentarily but she kept walking.

His esteem of her rose yet again. But for that small lapse and the tiny tremor in her voice, she remained composed. "T-they will be watching for anyone who cares enough . . . cares enough to come for him."

"Yes," he said, dropping his voice to the barest of murmurs.

"It's not fair," she said, her voice thick with unshed tears.

Severus had no answer for her. His life had rarely been about "fair" and he'd given up on that and Fair's bright sister, Hope, long ago.

So they continued on in silence until once again she crashed against his inner defences and with a few seemingly casual words sent him reeling.

"You'll be careful, won't you?"

When he was slow to offer a response, she added, "He'll want to celebrate this victory. You haven't been called-" She stumbled over her words. "I mean, I haven't seen you leave the castle. But he will . . . just . . . please be careful."

Then Hermione Granger blushed, pink flushing her cheeks. He waited for her to drop her eyes, stammer forth some apology. She did neither, merely held his eyes in steady seriousness until he became the one to stammer out a response. "I . . . I will endeavor to be careful." His heart pounded within him for reasons he refused to acknowledge. "Your concern is noted and I-" And then in the space of a heartbeat, he snarled, "Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger."

The sudden swerve caught her off-guard, her shock forcing out a startled, "What?"

Snape scowled, his expression thunderous. "Another five points for insolence." She flinched in surprise, completely unprepared to handle such vitriol from him on the heels of her concern. "Prefect status does not, I assure you, entitle you to wander areas of the castle that are off limits."

Hermione just blinked at him in total confusion, the pretty blush deepening into the darker red of mortification as Severus turned sharply, addressing a deep shadow in one of the alcoves that lined this section of the hallway. "Auror Garmin. I have been summoned to the Headmaster. Would be you be so kind as to escort Miss Granger to Gryffindor Tower?"

Hermione spun herself to face the alcove as Auror Garmin stepped into the light. The Auror was wearing a faint sneer, although Severus couldn't decide if his distaste was for his presence or Hermione's. Severus stepped back into shadow as the Auror turned his attention to Hermione. By the time the buffoon thought to keep an eye on him as well, Severus had already melted into the shadows as if he'd never been there.

Not trusting the Auror, Severus shadowed their progress partway to Gryffindor until he was sure that Hermione would be taken safely back to her tower.

Sweet Merlin, the girl confused him. She pushed and asked and demanded with her very presence that he . . . he . . . be her. . . her . . . and here his thoughts skittered away. He closed his eyes and leaned back into the cool stone of the castle. The way she'd asked him to be careful. The way she'd looked at him. Merlin help him, he wanted . . . Impossible. He pushed violently away from the wall. Insanity. It was complete insanity. Albus. I need to talk to Albus.

Hermione walked stiffly back to Gryffindor Tower, the Auror a chilling presence at her back. Opening the portrait door, she gave one last thought to Snape, Severus, and the sense of safety she'd felt when leaning against him. Then she was stepping through and thoughts of safety were left behind.

The common room was mostly empty at this hour, only a few students were gathered around the fireplace and two third years were off in one corner studying. Her friends were much as she'd left them when she'd fled earlier. They had taken over a small couch and two chairs in a nook created by the round walls of the tower and the stairs that led up to the boys' dormitory. It was a quiet spot, out of the way from the general traffic of the common room, and was often sought out by the more studious members of Gryffindor.

Harry sat at one end of the small couch with Ginny curled up into his side, one of his arms slung protectively over her. She couldn't help but feel a bit of relief at the sight. Ginny needed Harry's comfort right now and Harry needed to be touched and needed. Ron sat at Ginny's feet with one hand wrapped around one of her ankles. Hermione was glad to see that this crisis had pulled Harry out of whatever snit he'd been in with Ron and that the two of them were once again presenting a united front. Hermione was also heartened to see that Neville, Dean and Seamus had joined the group since she'd left. Good, she thought. That makes doing what Severus asked of me easier. And maybe not all of our friends will be turning against us.

"Where've you been?"

She ignored the accusation in Harry's tone, knowing he was hurting and lashing out. Instead she simply took the words at face value. "I needed to . . . " She trailed off. She didn't want to say that she needed space or that she'd desperately needed to see Snape.

Ginny came to her rescue. "It's okay, Hermione. Everyone copes differently."

Hermione sent her a grateful smile. "Thanks Ginny. I just needed a little quiet and someplace to think."

"I don't think your books are going to help us this time."

She took a deep breath, letting her own anger go. "I think you're wrong, Harry. Hold on, I'll be right back." Heading up to her room, she grabbed Professor Flitwick's books and her notes and then returned to the group.

"What are you planning?" Ron asked, when she settled back down.

She held up one of the books. "It's all about linking charms."

"So?" asked Dean.

Hermione took another deep breath, knowing the conversation that she was about to have was going to hurt. "The Weasleys weren't the only people targeted by You-Know-Who." She glanced around the small group, noting Ron's pinched expression and Ginny's eyes filling again with tears. "We know Susan Bones' mother was taken. We know about Professor Lupin. There are going to be others."

She leaned forward trying to make them really hear her. "But that's just part of the attack. They are also targeting half-bloods and Muggle-borns with the wand registration nonsense. They'll know every spell we cast and I'm pretty sure it will tell them everywhere we go. The wizarding world doesn't do well standing up to the Ministry. The people who would are the half-bloods and the Muggle-borns, those people who've seen other systems of government and different ways of doing things. It will be harder for them now because of the registration."

"Divide and conquer," Ron said, "and attack along multiple fronts."

She nodded and gave Ron a smile at his more concise explanation.

"So how do linking charms help?"

Hermione pulled her wand out and asked Neville for his. She held the wands side by side. "By casting a linking charm on my wand that connects it to your wand. Although ideally we cast the link to someone who is above reproach and not involved with anything we are doing. The Ministry gets their information as it is fed through the new link, bypassing the original tracking charm. It lets us, Harry in particular, stay out of their sights."

Ginny sat up a little straighter. "You link to my wand. I stay in the dorm and cast a few harmless spells. The Ministry reads that you while in reality you are off doing something somewhere else."

Hermione gave her a smile. "Exactly. And if the Ministry and Voldemort are using it to keep tabs on Harry and anyone else, then we send them on wild goose chases."

"You can cast this spell?" Dean asked.

"Yes, but I don't want to be the one to cast it. Harry needs to."

Harry gave a jerk. "What? Why?"

"Because others are going to be affected. You've always been a rallying point about You-Know-Who. Tell the students that are affected about the spell and cast it for them. As more families of students are taken, be there for them. Have them turn to you."

Harry's expression was a mixture of unease and rebellion. "I don't want to be their savior or some kind of stupid chosen one."

Neville, who was staring intently at Harry, finally said, "I don't think you've got a choice."

Albus felt the castle's wards jump the minute Severus ordered the guardian gargoyle aside. He wasn't quite sure how he always knew when Severus interacted with the school's wards but he did, even if most of the other teachers and students were just the vague impression of someone being there. He had always marveled at how well those wards recognised the other man, even occasionally letting him know the emotional state of his Potions master. It was, he'd concluded after long contemplation, as if the castle liked Severus, an idea and occurrence that never failed to amuse Albus.

Tonight there was no amusement. The castle wards tied to his magic snapped and sizzled along Albus' senses. Severus was agitated and that agitation was being conveyed quite strongly. He conjured a small teapot and two cups and waited.

Severus entered quickly, the door abruptly thrust open. Severus' teaching robes swirled around him as he fell into pacing in front of Albus' long desk. But for that pacing and the wards' insistence, Albus would not have known that Severus was troubled. The man's expression was a smooth mask of indifference, his posture was erect, neither hunched nor belligerent, and his hands, the usual tell-tale markers of Severus' mood, were clasped tightly behind his back rather than furled into fists at his side.

"Severus, is everything-"

"Everything is as expected, Headmaster."

The words were curt, but no more or less than what Albus usually expected from the other man. The wards once again rolled across his nerves, causing him to stiffen in his chair. Giving a thought to pushy castles, he asked, "Expected?"

"Expected. The Dark Lord has his hands firmly around the throat of the wizarding world, the Order – what remains of it – is practically in hiding, our fate rests on the shoulders of an unstable boy, and Lupin is . . . dead."

Albus noted the almost imperceptible hesitation before Severus pronounced Lupin's demise. Unsure of Severus' mood, he started cautiously, "Remus was -"

"I never thought that I would outlive the wolf."

It was said dispassionately, as another would comment on the fact that it was raining. With those words, the jangling at his magical senses fell silent, leaving him reeling in the quiet. Without the added benefit of the castle's magic, Albus was left with the impenetrable wall of Severus' emotional defences.

"Lupin was . . . ." Severus halted his thought, and then added, "Now only Pettigrew is left. And me, of course. Odd that."

Severus made another circuit around the room as Albus watched him warily, unsure of this unusual turn in the man he knew. "Severus-"

"You'll need to send someone for him. Someone of unassailable character."

Albus frowned in confusion. "For Peter?"

Severus shook his head sharply. "Lupin."

And for just for an instant, Albus knew what every Potions student had ever felt when on the receiving end of Severus' "you're an idiot" tone of voice. But he did finally understand, although he was very surprised at Severus' concern. It seemed unlike the man. "I will ensure that Remus' remains are returned from the Ministry."

Severus nodded. "Granger said that Tonks would be appreciative."

Albus clamped down on his surprise. Granger? Remembering Vector's matrix, Albus' alarm grew and with it his need to retake control of his pacing spymaster. Albus indicated one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Severus, sit. You're making me dizzy."

Only when the other man was situated in his usual chair did Albus float Severus a cup of tea. He was concerned as Severus sat rigidly instead of sinking into his normal boneless slump. Something was very much wrong.

They sat quietly, each sipping from their cups, until the taunt line of Severus' shoulders eased just a fraction. Only then did he say the man's name, for he'd learned over the years that the best way to get the man to open up was to let him come to you. "Severus?"

The shoulders softened a fraction more. "I find myself . . . troubled."

Albus felt a bolt of fear go through him at Severus' words. All my plans . . . .

Severus kept speaking, unaware of his effect on the headmaster. "I have known the course of my life from the moment she died." There was a distant quality to voice as he continued. "In many ways I died as well. I have not wanted anything beyond retribution and repentance since." He stared down into the bowl of his cup as if he saw his future laid out in the tea leaves. "I have not asked for . . . ." He stopped and shook his head. "I have not wanted . . . ." His voiced trailed off into silence.

"What is it that you want, Severus?" Albus asked softly, his own fingers tight around the handle of his cup.

Severus finally looked up and stared at him for a long measured moment, though Albus wasn't sure the man really saw him or not. He opened his mouth to speak and stiffened abruptly in his chair. Albus knew that reaction all too well. Damn Tom and his sense of timing. "You are being summoned?" he asked.

The easily read confusion that had briefly reflected in Severus' eyes was gone, to be replaced with nothing but mirrored black. "I am." Standing abruptly, he placed his tea cup on Albus' desk with careful precision. "Forgive me, Albus. I find that there are things I must attend to." He paused for a moment as if waiting for some added word from Albus, but then with a single nod of his head, turned to leave.

Albus stared at the closed door, undecided on his course of action. He was not as ruthlessly Machiavellian as some portrayed him, but neither was he the kindly doting grandfather of others' tales. Severus Snape had given everything he was to this fight. Albus knew that if asked, Severus would give even more.

He had no illusions. He knew Severus expected to forfeit his life before it was over. It pained Albus to know that Severus was, in all reality, probably correct, and that Albus would be the one to order him to his death. But until tonight, Albus had never questioned that Severus would not hesitate to follow through with that final order, but something, or someone, had shaken Severus' control. Albus couldn't help but to see that as a threat.

Eyes narrowed in thought, he pulled his wand. A moment later Miranda's matrix floated like a multi-coloured sea anemone in the middle of his office, its lazy spin throwing rays of colour across the darkened room.

Granger said that Tonks would be appreciative.

Albus found the matrix lines representing Severus and Miss Granger. He watched as Severus' line blinked in and out of existence. Abruptly he turned toward the fireplace. Reaching for a handful of Floo powder he tossed it into the dancing flames. "Miranda Vector's room" he said as the flames turned green. Avoiding the discomfort of his creaky knees, he skipped kneeing into the flames and called out instead. "Miranda, are you there?"

A moment later, a somewhat confused reply came. "Albus?"

"Can you come up to my office?"

A few moments later, Professor Vector stepped into his office, her expression moving from tense to worried as she caught sight of her matrix spinning in the middle of the room. "Has something happened?" and then quickly amended it to "Has something else happened?"

He gestured to the chair recently vacated by Severus. "Sit. Please. As for something happening, I am . . . unsure. How is Miss Granger's project coming along?"

One eyebrow shot up. "You didn't ask me here at," she glanced at the many clocks filling his office, "at eleven at night to ask about Hermione Granger's schoolwork."

When Albus hesitated, she blew out an exasperated breath. "Damn it, Albus. I know you love your secrecy and your games, and Merlin knows how Minerva has stood you all these years without hexing you to the bottom of the lake, but I deal in facts and numbers. If you want an answer from me you have to ask me the real question and not try to sneak around it from the backside."

They stared at each other until Miranda threw up her hands in obvious disgust. Climbing to her feet, she headed back towards the fireplace, muttering dire imprecations only partially under her breath. Albus caught the words Minerva, saint and old goat.

"Wait."

She stopped, as he knew she would, but she didn't turn around.

"Can Miss Granger be removed from the calculations?"

When Miranda finally did turn, her eyes were wide in shock.

"Calm yourself, Miranda. I mean the child no harm. I simply need to know if she can be removed from the field, as it were, without jeopardizing the matrix as a whole."

"No."

"But -"

"Albus, I assume you are asking for my professional opinion -- that opinion is no. She's too intertwined, too a part of this now."

"Intertwined," he repeated. Yes, too intertwined I think. He chose his words with great care. "The influence she is bringing to bear on Severus is . . . disconcerting."

To his surprise, Miranda burst into laughter. "Headmaster, you are a wise man who has the ability to see a bigger picture than anyone I've ever met. But Miss Granger's influence, as you call it, is just that the girl likes him. She treats him with respect and consideration and a kind regard. She isn't afraid of him and she doesn't want anything from him." She gave him a twisted smile before adding, "Forgive me for saying it Albus, but you know that you demand of Severus just as much, if not more, than You-Know-Who. Is it any surprise that Severus finds himself comfortable in Miss Granger's presence?"

Steepling his fingers, he contemplated her words. On the surface it seemed harmless enough. He'd always known that what he asked of Severus isolated the man, but before Miss Granger that had not seemed to bother Severus.

"I will consider your words. But indulge me, if you will, and see if she can be unentwined from Severus without causing harm."

She shook her head. "Albus, this isn't a good idea."

When he merely looked at her in response, she sighed. "Fine."

Her expression was still disapproving when she left.

Alone in his office again, he waved a hand, extinguishing the candles until the only light remaining came from the matrix. He was an old man. He was used to waiting for things he wanted. Patience had provided him with more victories than the combined forces of threat and guile. Now he waited for Severus to return and thought hard on the girl.

Albus felt the shift in the wards as Severus reentered the castle grounds. Unlike earlier in the evening, he received no sense of dissonance from the castle, but was merely informed that the wards had been breached. That the castle's wards sent no ripples of alarm meant, Albus decided, that at least in this particular meeting with Tom, his spy had escaped unscathed.

Albus blew out a breath in aggravation, his thoughts turning dark. Tom has every reason to be celebrating this night. The Order and its allies are neatly boxed into a corner and now is entirely too soon to be showing my hand.

As dawn was not far off, he waited the minimal time before deciding that Severus would not be coming to him. Not that he blamed the man for that. Even Severus needed some sleep. But Albus knew, as few others did, what toll these meetings with Tom took from his Potions master. Even those meetings that went well tended to darken Severus' mood for days afterwards. And only Albus knew of the nightmares that so often preceded Severus' restless insomnia.

He debated now. Stay or go? He thought again on the troubling conversation they'd shared earlier and the matrix he'd been staring at for the last few hours. Go, then.

It took only a few moments to step from his fireplace into Severus' rooms. He expected to find Severus still awake as he entered the man's quarters, so he was concerned when he found the rooms dark and quiet. He paused, suddenly unsure, but a brief outreach to the castle's internal wards confirmed that Severus was indeed in his rooms.

Wondering if perhaps Severus had been hurt after all, Albus lit a candle and went in search of him. His concern went to alarm when he found his notoriously insomnia prone Potions master asleep in his bed. Even more disconcerting was the fact that Severus did not wake on his entry, or when the candle's light fell across his face. He merely grumbled and turned away into the darkness.

Now Albus was more than alarmed. Several thoughts spun through his mind from Severus taking a heavy dose of Dreamless Sleep to Tom somehow drugging him. None of the scenarios he came up with as an explanation made him feel better.

He debated momentarily on the ethics of his decision, weighing Severus' privacy against his fears. I can't take the chance. Pulling his wand, he used a Healer's spell that detected potions and poisons. His wand tip glowed green as he swept it over Severus' body, showing Severus was not under the influence of any type of sleeping potion.

His next thought was some type of charm or hex. He cast a powerful reveal spell and again his wand glowed green as he waved it over Severus. Then, just as he swung his wand in a sweeping arc over Severus' head, the wand light blinked. He stopped. The light had not turned red, indicated a malicious spell, but had blinked. Albus wasn't sure he'd ever seen the reveal spell do that before. He stilled. Then very slowly he retraced his wand over Severus' head but the blink in the light didn't reoccur.

Frowning, he pulled at his beard with his free hand. Then using a side to side sweeping motion, he began again. This time, as his wand neared the edge of the bed, the light blinked again. The spell is on the sheets.

Unsure of exactly what he was dealing with, and still not wanting to awaken Severus just yet, as the spell could easily be designed to harm the sleeper if detected, Albus used the tip of his wand to tease out the bottom sheet from where it was tucked under the mattress.

His gasp was loud in the quiet of the room. Sleeping Sheets! Someone made Severus Sleeping Sheets.

He was astounded. He'd never known of a case where Sleeping Sheets were made for an adult. He didn't even think that was possible. The magical energy and intent that would have been needed to fuel the Sheets for an adult rather than for a child was enormous.

How? When? Why? And more importantly, was this the interference to Severus' path that was highlighted in Vector's matrix?

Waving the hovering candle closer, he pulled up the Sheet's edge to more closely examine the embroidered sigil. A single glance told him that the stitching was finely done and that much care and attention had been taken with the work. Like most magical sigils this one moved. Albus was astonished to see a lioness rise up to crouch protectively over a coiled snake, her ivory-coloured fangs bared to him in a silent snarl of warning.

And Albus knew. Hermione Granger.

He also knew what he had to do. He had no idea how the girl had made the sheets or even how she'd got them on Severus' bed. Those were minor concerns now. The most important thing was that she could not be allowed to interfere with his plans. Couldn't be allowed to distract Severus from his path, regardless of what Miranda Vector thought. He also knew that he could not be the direct cause of the severance of their relationship. That would build resentment and again take Severus' focus off the things that Albus needed him to do. Severus could not doubt him at this critical junction in his plans.

Eyes narrowed in thought, he came to a grim decision. He knew Severus. Knew his moods and his prejudices and how the taint of Dark Magic influenced his tempers. He had only to set the stage. Severus would do the rest because Albus knew how he would view these sheets: as betrayal and manipulation and influence.

It was, he decided, the best course of action.

Turning to leave, he left the sheet and its damning sigil untucked for Severus to find in the morning. Severus himself would do everything needed after that.

The next morning Ginny, eyes still red, refused to stay behind in the tower when the others were ready to go down to breakfast.

Knowing what the morning held, Hermione couldn't blame Ron for trying to dissuade her but Ginny was standing firm. Ron finally gave in with ill-concealed grace. Hermione went out the portrait door first, Ron behind her, followed by Ginny, then Harry, with Seamus, Neville and Dean bringing up the end. Their Housemates, sensing their mood, gave them a wide berth in the corridors.

Sitting at the Gryffindor table became a waiting game that gnawed on all of them. At one point, Hermione looked up at the Head Table hoping to distract herself with Severus, but the thunderous black look he leveled in her direction left her shaken. She quickly dropped her eyes back to her food, picking at it in confusion.

Even Ron was picking at his food, but Hermione was too shaken by Severus' venomous look to really notice. The clatter of his fork onto his plate finally jerked Hermione's eyes upwards to where the morning owls were silently winging their way across the room.

Her own owl landed in the open space beside her, the Prophet clenched tightly in one talon. With trembling fingers she paid the bird, offered a bit of bacon and then sent it on its way.

"Open it."

"Ron . . ."

Ron swallowed, his freckles standing out in stark contrast to the pallor of his skin. "Best to know now. Open it."

Harry gave her nod, so Hermione cleared a space on the table and spread out the paper so that all of them could see it. A series of photographs scrolled across the top half of the paper beneath a blazing inch high headline: MINISTRY ROUNDS UP YOU-KNOW-WHO SYMPATHIZERS. She didn't bother with the article but focused instead on the pictures. A woman Hermione didn't recognise was crying as a grey-haired man was lead away. A picture of Madam Bones flashed next, her expression a mixture of confusion and anger. Ginny sucked in a breath at a slightly blurry picture of Molly Weasley being led away. There was another picture of an older gentleman, his face too wearing an expression of confusion. On and on the pictures scrolled across the page.

Hermione realised then how they'd done it. None of these poor people really understood what was happening to them. They all just thought it was some kind of mistake – some kind of aberration that would be cleared up quickly.

"They didn't have a clue," Harry said roughly, his thoughts obviously following hers.

Ron's slightly shaking hand pointed to a tag line mentioning a special insert section. "Open this."

Hermione flipped the paper open, only to immediately press her fist against her mouth in horror. The special insert was a list of names in blocky, black text. Each name listed the supposed crime, a summary of the evidence against the person and a column showing the status of the individual. A quick scan of the list showed that Remus Lupin had not been the only individual to resist arrest and pay for it with his life.

"Oh God, there are so many."

Author's Note 2: Sorry again for making you guys wait for so long for this chapter. I know. I suck.