Chapter Seventeen: Pete fell in…

Day Three Hundred Thirty

Opening his eyes, Severus rolled onto his stomach and groaned into his pillow. Someone was banging around in his office, and he didn't even have to guess who it was. He took his time shrugging into his dressing gown, tying the belt firmly around his waist and making sure to tuck his wand into one of its pockets.

"Do you sleep any more?" he complained as he walked into the office.

Hermione's responding smile was oddly reserved. "Not so much, no," she said, stirring the contents of a simmering cauldron on his workbench. "It took you ages to wake up, by the way. I've been rattling around in here for more than half an hour. Honestly, I thought I was going to have to blow something up in order to get you out here."

With a raised eyebrow, he merely crossed his arms over his chest. "What is it you want?"

"Good morning to you, too," she said sarcastically.

"I hardly think that's called for, Hermione," Severus told her in what he was surprised to find was a mild tone — why wasn't his irritation with her showing? "As it is, what, four, five in the morning?"

Shrugging, she laid the ladle she'd been using on the table — he didn't know what she was brewing, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn't want to know. "Four forty-five. And actually, I had something to show you."

"You see?" he pointed out, stifling an undignified yawn. "And ten points from Gryffindor for whatever it is you're about to say," he continued as Hermione scowled and opened her mouth.

The scowl intensified. "You–"

"Better make that twenty," he said, yawning again. "It is nearly five in the morning, after all."

"Will you please just come with me?" she asked pointedly. "It won't take a minute. And then you can go back to practicing your evil glares or whatever it is you do when there aren't any students around."

"Evil glares?" Severus echoed, giving the back of his neck an idle scratch as he gave her a curious look. "I perfected all of those years ago."

Hermione made a face at him. "No fair making ambiguous jokes before breakfast, Polly. I don't know whether or not you're serious."

Inwardly, he laughed. "I'm always serious," he replied calmly, face blank. "Now, I believe you had something you wanted to show me?"

"It's on the other side of the castle," she said. "You might want to change first."

Biting back another tart remark, Severus merely stepped back into his quarters, hiding his wand in his sleeve so that she couldn't see how he disassembled his wards. Quickly, he pulled on the first set of robes that came to his hand. As he shoved his feet into his shoes, he realized that he was wearing the same clothes he wore every single today. But there was no time — ignoring the overwhelming urge to change, he picked up his wand and re-entered the office.

Her expression was unreadable. "Ready?" she asked.

Severus nodded. "Where are we going?"

"Fifth floor, east wing," Hermione said in a brisk voice, opening the door that led into the hallway.

Feeling suspiciously silly as he followed her, Severus deliberately matched her pace as they walked, wanting to appear as in charge of the situation as possible. "The east wing?" he asked. "What on Earth were you doing all the way over there? There aren't even any classes taught out there these days."

She shrugged briefly. "I was looking for a quiet place. Sometimes I prefer to be alone."

Severus held his tongue only with great effort.

After a relatively long pause, Hermione gave him a sideways look. "I…"

"You are about to either say something apologetic or cryptic," he interrupted. "Knowing full well that I cannot abide either."

"I am sorry, sir," she said, sounding highly amused.

He glared down at her, but she did not look repentant in the slightest.

"We're not far off," she said abruptly.

Assuming that she would not tell him anything else about their destination if he asked, Severus contented himself with scanning the hallways as they walked through them. Despite the fact that they were going up staircases, the corridors were growing increasingly darker — fewer torches were lit in this part of the castle, and the few windows were unhelpful on today of all days, when dark clouds loomed, interrupted only by the occasional flash of lightning.

The musty smell intensified and Severus wrinkled his nose. "This part of the castle hasn't been used for decades," he said. "I can't imagine why you'd choose here to hide — it seems about as hospitable as the Shrieking Shack."

"I knew that there haven't been classes taught over here for a while, and none of these rooms are marked as professors' quarters, either. Those are always clear," she replied, sounding distracted.

"Marked? On what?" he asked slyly, knowing the answer but wanting her to say it out loud — while he knew about Potter's map in his deepest of hearts, its existence had never actually been confirmed in his presence.

With an unreadable glance in his direction, Hermione's pace did not slow. "I figured that if we had no reason to be up here, then no one else would either," she said, looking ahead once more. "Given how much time Har — we've spent in various, odd places in the castle." She caught herself adroitly and shot him another irritated look. "And I would appreciate it, sir, if you refrained from speaking aloud any and all insults that came to your mind as I said that."

He resisted the urge to make a face at her, keeping his eyes firmly forward. "What about all of the other ones I've prepared?"

Sighing, she turned her head and effectively obscured her features to him. "Would it make a difference even if I asked?"

"No," he conceded dryly. "Probably not."

"It doesn't matter, at any rate," she said in a quieter voice. "We're here."

With a start, he realized she'd stopped walking, and he glanced around the shadowy hallway. "Where is here, exactly?"

Her eyes glinted in the faint light. "I found it yesterday," she said somberly, apparently ready to ignore his question. "But I wasn't ready to show you then."

"Found what?" he asked irritably.

"I didn't notice it at first," she continued, speaking as if in a dream. As her eyes widened, Severus found himself remembering that she was mad as a hatter these days and took a semi-conscious step backward. "But it wouldn't be fair to hide it from you."

He idly wondered if she knew how to cast any of the Unforgivables — the girl looked completely disoriented. "Hermione?" he asked, trying to sound calm.

She still did not seem to be listening to him. "It was hard to believe, even. But who else, really…"

Torn between impatience and concern, Severus balled his hands into fists at his sides. "Hermione," he practically shouted.

Blinking, she stared at him. "What?"

"What are you talking about?"

Her confusion appeared to deepen. "Can't you see it?"

Fear passing completely, he resisted the urge to reach out and give her a good shake. "See what?" he snapped.

Instead of answering, Hermione simply reached out a single, rather unsteady finger, pointing at an area ostensibly behind his shoulder.

Turning around, Severus looked down the empty hallway. "I see nothing out of the ordinary," he said, still frustrated. "Cobwebs, dust — your standard ominous hallway."

"Look at the wall, Severus," she said, sounding strained.

As he looked to the right, he froze, barely hearing the completely inappropriate use of his given name, focusing instead on the abomination she was pointing out.

It was nothing.

Nothing.

He'd gotten used to the holes in the odd piece of parchment. The missing books. Even the edges of some of his robes. But this…

The very castle wall. The very landscape. For certainly, if it were a simple matter of a hole in a wall, he would be able to see the storm outside through it.

Not this. Not an indescribable blur. Not… nothing.

Closing his eyes, Severus put an unconscious hand to his head. "That's…" he began, letting out a heaving sigh as he realized he was at a complete and total loss for words.

"You see, sir?" Hermione practically whispered.

"No, I don't," he said humorlessly. "That, I believe, is the problem, Hermione."

"Most of my textbooks are gone, too," she said in a dull voice. "And some of the other Gryffindors', I think. In the mornings, some of them mention that they've misplaced some book or another. And they didn't always."

He could not bring himself to reopen his eyes — that would require looking at her. "My favorite quill has been gone for many days," he said. "After I realized it… what had happened, I stopped looking for other things."

"How could they not notice?" she asked. "How could you not have seen?" Her voice was shrill.

Insanely, Severus wanted to wrap his arms around her — he kept them sensibly around his own head, shielding his eyes from the scene. "No one wants to," he said with a sudden flash of insight.

"What?" She sounded incredulous. "Could you please put your hands down? You look… silly."

For a moment, he came close to denying her request for the simple reason that she'd made it in the first place. But his dignity warred his stubbornness and won. Severus lowered his hands and slowly opened his eyes, focusing on Hermione's face in an effort to keep the… hole out of his line of sight. "No one wants to see… that," he repeated. "So there's something that… keeps them from seeing it."

Hermione's expression was skeptical at best, but Severus felt like he was on somewhat of a roll.

"Back when I was still trying to tell Albus about what's happening, I noticed that there was often this odd look in his eyes," he said, trying to keep his voice even and rational. "Mad, almost. Like he wanted to say, 'Why are you telling me this?' Like he was afraid. But then he would just… blink. He would blink and it would be gone, and he would tell me that I'd lost my mind. Politely, of course. But he didn't want to know, so he didn't. Simple as that."

"Self-preservation," she said faintly. "Of the mind, but self-preservation nonetheless."

"I'd bet," Severus continued, thinking aloud by this point, "I'd bet that there are any number of things happening that no one's noticing. Not even us."

Her forehead wrinkled. "For instance?"

Knowing it was a dangerous thing to say even as he opened his mouth, he ignored the voice in the back of his head that pointed out that he was quite possibly about to make Hermione cry. "Are you sure all ten of your fingers are there, Hermione?"

Round-eyed, she glanced down at her hands and gave her fingers a cautious wiggle. "Oh," she said in the smallest of voices.

"Or maybe there's a hole through my head," he said as blithely as he could. "All the way through. Not impairing vital brain functions, of course, as I'm still breathing and able to speak coherently. But I'm sure that I wouldn't want to know about it if–"

"Just stop it," Hermione said, glaring up at him.

His smile was forced at best and almost certainly more of a grimace than anything else. "Come now, Hermione. I am expected to tolerate your little remarks about your own death, am I not?"

"That's different," she spat through gritted teeth.

"I fail to see how," he said blandly.

"It's…" she spluttered. "It just is!"

Choosing a more subtle approach than merely pointing out the inanity of her response, Severus cocked an eyebrow at her, keeping his arms at his sides.

With a faint blush, Hermione looked down at her feet. "I can't think about this," she said.

"Precisely my point," he told her, not unkindly.

"So, you think we're withering away," she said abruptly, looking up at him with anguished eyes. "You think we're dying just like the castle."

Again, he fought his impulse to fold her in an embrace. "Maybe it's better this way."

"People are going to start disappearing. Instead of Harry asking about his Charms book every damn morning, he's going to start asking about Ron." Her face twisted and a single tear fell down her cheek.

Severus was practically dizzy from restraining himself — his arms literally ached. "It's better," he heard himself insist.

"Maybe we won't notice," she said, now crying openly. "Maybe we won't — self-preservation." Her laugh was mocking. "Will you notice, do you think, when I'm not here? It would be a relief, I suppose. That way, I wouldn't — promise me," she said loudly, startling him.

"Promise you what?" he asked.

"Promise me you won't notice," she said, swiping at her face.

Mystified at her behavior, he just shrugged. "I promise, then."

Day Three Hundred Thirty-Seven

"Severus Snape, you are a liar," Hermione announced from the doorway.

He did not even bother to look up from his desk. "While I have no reason to deny it, I do wonder why you choose to bring it up."

"I've been thinking," she said, crossing his office to seat herself in her usual chair and crossing one ankle over the other primly.

"Have you?" he asked, giving her as impassive a stare as he could.

"About lots of things," she said breezily. "But mostly one."

Folding his hands, Severus propped his chin on his fingers. "I expect you're going to tell me what."

"You're always there."

Jerking backward slightly, he almost toppled his entire chair. "Pardon?" he asked.

"You're always there," she repeated, over-enunciating. "At two thirty-four. When I…" Clearing her throat, she looked down at her hands. "You weren't always. But any more, you are."

"Do you have a point, Hermione?" He was uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was threatening to take.

Still, she did not look at him. "It won't be better. Oh, it won't hurt, I suppose. But to just… stop like that. It won't be better. If there's one thing I've learned from today, I've learned that I don't want to die alone. And disappearing like that — that's dying alone."

"All right," he said slowly, not knowing what else to say.

"I hate this," she exclaimed, vehemence an undercurrent in her tone. "I hate it when I have to die alone. Being alone — day by day. How can you stand it?"

"I, erm–"

Apparently unwilling to allow him to finish, Hermione interrupted him. "I guess, though, that the fact that you don't let me die alone any more answers that, doesn't it?"

"Hermione, I–"

Again, she cut him off, waving her hand slightly as she did so. "And that look on your face… I don't know. But you'll never talk about it with me. My own fault, I suppose. But sometimes I think–"

Unable to stand it any longer, Severus stood and walked around his desk, looming as forbiddingly as he could over her. "Hermione!" he all-but-shouted.

She blinked and looked up at him. "Yes?"

Severus took a step back now that he had her attention and leaned against his desk, folding his arms over his chest in a move that was almost as defensive as it was casual. "You are chattering."

Her laugh was nervous and only increased his anxiety. "I am, aren't I?"

Almost unconsciously, he sat down on his desktop, unsure as to what he ought to say. In the end, of course, he decided to remain silent.

"You confuse me, you know," she said chidingly.

He bit back a hysterical laugh. "Hermione, you have no idea."

There was something in her eyes that he did not like as she stood and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. "I would like to say — just for the record, of course — that I had absolutely no intention of doing this when I came in here."

"Doing what?" His stomach twisted and he started to slide off his desk. Stunning her was looking like a good option at the moment.

She was not even a step away — he could practically smell her. "This," she said, giving him a quick smile before touching her lips hesitantly to his.

Someone in his head started screaming at him when he did not automatically pull away from the contact. He couldn't decide whether it sounded more like his father or Lucius Malfoy, but he decided to ignore it as he noticed that Hermione had drawn close enough to press her body fully against his.

This was highly inappropriate, the voice was shouting. Albus would have his head, Minerva would have him castrated, and Potter and Weasley would probably want the rest of his remains so that they could jump up and down on them, screaming epithets against his entire family.

And his hand actually wove into her hair as she continued to press her lips sweetly against his.

Shuddering as the thoughts whirling in his brain threatened to become too numerous for his head to contain, Severus forced his hands to rest on Hermione's shoulders. Gently, carefully, he eased away, breaking the kiss and feeling disgusted with himself for not wanting to. Dazed, he looked down at her and saw clear confusion in her eyes.

"I," he muttered, feeling stupid and not really knowing what he was going to say. "I'm still not going to sleep with you."

A sparkle in her eye flickered for a long moment and then faded. "I wasn't expecting you to," she whispered, smiling shyly.

Damn her for making him feel so muddled! She ought to be screaming and railing at him for pushing her away — she ought to be making this easy for him. Severus caught himself leaning back down to kiss her again — again! — and wrenched away from her, withdrawing and wrapping his arms around himself, all but shivering.

He saw the hurt in her expression and hated both himself for causing it and her for making him behave this way. "Sever–" she began.

Hurriedly, Severus cut her off, unable to bear hearing his name come out of her mouth. "No," he said, trying to snap at her but mostly only sounding miserable. "No… I won't. I can't. This — this is unacceptable. Can't you see that?"

"No one would know," she cried. "It doesn't matter."

"But it does, Hermione," he corrected gently, abandoning all pretense at anger. "We would know."

"That's a lousy excuse," she said, shaking her head and laughing bitterly, even as he could see tears swimming in her eyes.

The sight of her tears almost undid his resolve — he took a single step toward her before pulling back again. "I have nothing better to give you," he told her, not meeting her gaze. "Tell me what I need to say and I will say it."

"You know what I want you to say," she said accusingly.

Before he even knew what he was about, she was in his arms again and her lips were against his and he was fighting to fight her even as he pulled her closer. "Hermione," he said as he was finally able to draw back.

"Don't you dare," she hissed. "Don't you dare say my name like you care if you're about to do what I think you are."

"Caring," he began heavily. "Caring has never been the issue. Or, rather, the fact that it has not been an issue is the issue. This is not appropriate, Hermione, and you know it as well as I do. It's not simply a question of being found out."

She scowled and withdrew from him completely — he couldn't decide whether he was relieved or hurt by her reaction.

"I think," he said in a careful voice, adjusting his robes minutely as he spoke. "I think it would be best if we did not spend any time together alone."

Her head jerked up, revealing a pale face and shocked expression. "What?"

"I do not trust myself," he said quickly and quietly, praying that she understood. He had absolutely no intention of either repeating or elaborating on his statement.

"Fine," she said, sounding absolutely livid.

Well, so much the better, he decided. If she were angry with him, she would avoid him, which could only make his life easier. He realized belatedly that his words had just possibly condemned her to the lonely death that she had confessed to fearing, but there was nothing he could do about that, really. It was imperative that they maintain appropriate boundaries.

"Just one question," Hermione said into the silence of his thoughts. "Before I leave you alone, sir."

He winced at the emphasis on his title, immediately reminded of the infinite number of reasons that he could not be attracted to her. "Ask your question, then," he replied tiredly.

"If we weren't… if all things were equal, would you still turn me away?" she asked quietly, giving him an unreadable look. "If we weren't dying and if we weren't at Hogwarts, would you feel the same way?"

Severus felt his mouth open, but no sound came out, despite his best efforts to speak. After a long silence, she merely turned and walked out of the room.

It took a great deal of effort on his part to keep himself from chasing after her, but he managed it, giving the side of his desk a vicious kick as he forced himself to pick up a quill and go back to his marking.