A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! It's really interesting to hear your thoughts on these chapters... it seems like some of you find it a little fast-paced, even if I always worry that no one will want to read a longer story! hahaha
Anyway, I really appreciate the feedback and hope that you keep finding the story interesting and the characters accurate!
Take care! :)

"I must say, I'm very disappointed, Miss Granger." Minerva McGonagall said, shaking her head.

It didn't go unnoticed to Hermione that the Headmistress had resorted back to her last name. It was the least she deserved, but still, she felt terribly ashamed.

"You betrayed my trust." McGonagall continued. "Endangering not only yourself, but Professor Snape as well. You were lucky that he was quick enough to get you both out of there. Merlin knows what would have happened..."

"I'm so sorry, Professor." Hermione murmured, unable to raise her gaze to meet the older witch's eyes.

"Can you at least tell me what was so important that you had to lie to me and take such a risk, and violation of privacy?" Minerva asked, pressing her forehead with her fingertips.

"I… I wanted to convince him to come back to the castle." Hermione explained weakly.

"Didn't you heard me say that he was unwell?" McGonagall inquired, confused.

"I did… But I thought he would be safer here." Hermione replied with a shrug.

"So... worried about his safety, you openly knocked on his front door, calling him by name?" the Headmistress eyebrows raised in a skeptical gesture.

Hermione bit her inner cheek, seeing the evident gap in her lie.

"Why won't either of you tell me what's really going on?" Minerva sighed irritated, hitting the arms of her chair with her palms. Hermione flinched, startled. She wondered why Snape had chosen to keep the real reason behind her visit a secret. Maybe he was trying to spare her the embarrassment, though on second thought, that didn't sound like him at all. Maybe he was afraid McGonagall would think he had somehow encouraged her behavior the night before… But whatever it was, he clearly had been as reluctant as herself to reveal the truth, to the Headmistress dismay.

"I wanted him to stay and help me with my N.E.W.T. I was afraid that I wouldn't get an acceptable grade without his help." Hermione said quickly, worried that if she didn't provide a plausible explanation, the woman would soon guess that they were covering up an inappropriate matter.

"I thought you had rearranged your priorities, Miss Granger. I didn't think you would endanger a recovering man for your own selfish requirements." McGonagall said harshly, and Hermione felt her throat burning with the urge to cry. "Maybe you do need another year of school to gain some perspective before facing the future." she pointed out.

Hermione had promised herself that she would stoically accept whatever reprimand she got for her actions, but it was becoming increasingly hard to remain calm, when the few things and relationships that were going well in her life were crumbling down so quickly before her eyes.

"I'll have to reconsider it." Minerva said, wondering if maybe she was being a little too harsh on the younger witch. She knew Hermione was a brilliant, thoughtful woman, which was the reason why she was so unpleasantly surprised by her behavior. Maybe her age was actually still a significant factor, after all? "Meanwhile, I'll expect you to fulfill your promise to Madame Pomfrey. Professor Snape's return has been forced by the circumstances, but he's currently here just as a guest of mine. He won't be asked to make any efforts, or prepare any potions. He will focus on his recovery, in his private space, and we will leave him alone, understood?"

"Of course, Professor. I will brew whatever potion is needed." Hermione was quick to respond.

"Very well." the woman said, getting up from the garnet armchair in the Gryffindor common room.

"Good night, Miss Granger."

"Good night, Professor."

The next three weeks went by in a blur. Hermione spent most of her days on the library, which was slowly regaining a decent appearance, though there still was a lot of work to be done. Three days after their conversation in the Gryffindor common room, a more conciliatory McGonagall had let her know that if she was still willing to take them, she could summon the examiners for her N.E. . Hermione could have hugged her right there and then, but instead, she nodded eagerly and promised the Headmistress that she would devote herself to studying so they wouldn't regret giving her the chance.

And so she had. As she had expected, DADA and Charms were practically a piece of cake. Transfiguration was a little trickier, but nothing she couldn't handle with a little practice. Her elective subjects weren't a problem either… she loved them so much that they hardly required any effort to study. Only Herbology and Potions worried her. She had asked Neville for his help on the first, and the lad had almost bursted with pride while taking her around the greenhouses, answering her questions and explaining interesting facts about each plant. She had helped him with their gillyweed water crop, and enjoyed watching him go on an on about aquatic plants. Though the conversations were to prepare exams, Hermione was enjoying herself with him, much to her surprise. It was nice to find someone as passionate as knowledge as her, even if Neville's passion was very focused on one single subject. She realized that there was a whole social world besides her tight circle, and that brought her some relief, for Harry and Ron had practically vanished again, only a couple short letters in response to her regular ones.

Potions had turned out to be the hardest, since she didn't have anyone to help her in that one. She had kept her vow to McGonagall to not disturb Professor Snape, who she had barely seen passing down the hall twice since they were attacked at his house. He was eating alone in his private chambers, now that he had been released from the social obligation of joining everyone in the Great Hall at meals. And he hadn't set foot in the potions lab, at least not while she was there, though she had noticed small changes every now and then that suggested that he had indeed been poking around, organizing things and making sure the cabinets were well supplied. Luckily, the list of books he had provided turned out to be incredibly useful, and all her questions had found their answers among their pages.

However, on the fourth week, when the examiners finally arrived at the castle, she began panicking. Potions was the last exam on her list. The others had gone pretty well, though she wouldn't know the results for a few days. She had made a very stupid mistake when she transfigured a chess pawn into a king instead of a queen. She could practically hear Ron scolding her after the many hours they had all spent together play magical chess. But, on the other hand, she had nailed a very tricky question about the medicinal properties of Sneezewort thanks to Neville's explanations. So, all in all she was happy with her performance. But now, as she nervously waited beside the Great Hall's big doors, she was starting to regret having eaten breakfast. She could hear the examiners setting the cauldrons inside. What if she had been doing it wrong? She had had no supervision, only checking her work by the written instructions on the books… but the books knew nothing about the consistency or smell or…

"Miss Granger" a low, deep voice emerged from the dark stairs to her right "Are you trying to wear down the floor?"

She stopped her anxious pacing, surprised. "Oh… good morning, Sir. I'm just waiting for the Potions exam to begin..." she explained with an apologetic look.

"I'm aware." Snape replied, slowly walking towards her. He seemed to be feeling better than the last time she had seen him, though he still looked pale, and he was wearing a thick velvety robe that made her feel suffocated just by looking at it. "I hope that you will leave your teachers in a favorable position."

"I'll do my best." she assured him, before adding anxiously. "But they know you haven't been my teacher for two years, so should I fail, they won't..."

Snape's lips curved ever so slightly, but it was enough for her to realize that he was teasing her. On second thought, he probably couldn't care less of what the examiners thought about his teaching skills. The magical world had many other things to say about him already.

"Fair enough, though I wouldn't want to regret vouching for you, Miss Granger." Snape added with an enigmatic gesture.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, perplexed.

"I was the one to point out to our Headmistress that your disastrous common sense didn't necessarily have to interfere with your student's accomplishments, when your reckless visit made her wonder if you were truly deserving of such an honor" he pointed his head towards the Great Hall, where her exams had been taking place.

Hermione was astonished. Had he really defended her to McGonagall, after she had caused his house's loss? "Sir… Thank you!" she said, moved.

Snape made a fleeting discarding gesture and he turned around, ready to leave. However, when he heard the big doors creaking open, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Miss Granger."

"Yes, Sir?"she asked anxiously, ready to get inside.

"Just in case… stasis is freeze, retardant is slow." he reminded her, disappearing towards the dungeon stairs.

Hermione couldn't believe her ears, for by the sound of his tone, she would have sworn that Professor Snape had just made a joke.

Truth was, Severus Snape was every bit as surprised at himself than Hermione had been. It was probably due to extreme boredom, that he had casually walked by the Great Hall's entrance about the exact time that Miss Granger's Potions N.E.W.T was about to begin. He had wanted to take a look for himself, to see how the first student in decades taking their exams alone and out of schedule was doing. It was mere academic curiosity, of course.

Okay, maybe the fact that it was this particular student had increased his curiosity just a little bit more. But that was it. It's not like he cared, or something. He didn't.

He didn't, right?

No. Of course not. He shook his head as he entered his office in the dungeons, absently taking off his cloak and placing it over the couch. He had been relieved when Minerva had assured him that no one, specially not Miss Granger, would be bothering him again after his house's destruction. True, he had suggested the Headmistress to not punish the girl through her academic life, but that had been mostly so he could rest assured that he wouldn't have to face another whole year of teaching the annoying know-it-all, in case his situation didn't improve and he was finally forced to stay at Hogwarts long-term. But once that was settled, he gladly accepted his newly restored privacy and being released from his brewing obligations, specially since those had been the source of Miss Granger's lack of boundaries towards him and all the problems that had streamed from it.

But this satisfied calm only lasted for a week. Soon, he began growing restless again. After catching up on his reading and his sleep, his anxiety began to catch up with him too. He had tried to keep it under control by sneaking visits into the potion lab when it was empty, and rearranging ingredients and tools in the most neat, efficient way. He had also placed another couple orders to potion shops, making sure the supplies were delivered personally to him so no one would know he was taking care of it. If they did, it wouldn't be long until they asked him to start brewing again… which wouldn't be such a bad idea if it wasn't because Miss Granger had taken over the task, and he didn't want to risk going down that path again. However, he did wonder if the girl would have noticed his incursions in the lab, given that he had found everything perfectly rearranged in the way he had left it before, even if it probably wasn't the easiest way to clean up.

During the third week, he was pacing around like a caged tiger. His other usual source of comfort besides the lab was the library, but again, it seemed like Miss Granger had taken over another one of his havens. He had taken an occasional walk around the grounds, though he did it after sunset so he wouldn't risk running into anyone. But with the sun gone, despite it already being July, the air was chilly and he didn't truly enjoyed the feeling. He was drinking Pepper-up potion every day, but still he didn't seem to be getting any better. This cold that had come out of nowhere, along with the weakness, were the only symptoms of an enigmatic disease that he wasn't able to name or heal. It kept getting worse, though unfortunately for him, it didn't seem to be endangering his life.

It would be so much easier if it were.

He had never truly contemplated suicide, no matter how many times his shattered heart and soul had begged him for mercy. He knew that killing someone, even if it was yourself, could splinter the soul irrevocably. And the only thing that kept him sane through the years was the thought that one day, it would all be over, and his soul would be free, and who knows, maybe… Even if his rational mind discarded the hope of an afterlife reunion with Lily, at the deepest part of himself, he was not willing to risk the slim chance that it could happen, by trying to rush into it, committing such act.

He had also managed to make himself useful to his Dark master without ever directly taking a life. Granted, his hands weren't entirely clean… but he had succeeded in staying behind the scenes, focusing on revealing information and help with the plotting, and allowing the other brutes to do the ugly work.

That had been, of course, until that summer's night two years ago when that stupid, arrogant old man had thought he could try on a cursed ring without any consequences, only to decide right away that his inevitable death should be brought on by Severus, to spare Draco Malfoy's soul.

That had been the only moment in twenty years where he had seriously considered quitting his double life and just ending everything. He had informed the Headmaster that he was crossing a line, that he didn't want to keep doing it anymore. If, after all his effort and struggle, he was going to end up splintering his soul anyway… maybe taking his own life instead would at least be a less complicated way to go. But Dumbledore had insisted that his soul wasn't at risk because he was the one asking Severus to kill him, and because he was doomed to die either way… that it would, instead, be a merciful act, one that would bear no spiritual consequences.

Severus had been pretty sure that it was just a ruse from the manipulative man to get him to agree to his terms… but again, as slim as the chance was, it had been enough to convince him.

After taking Dumbledore's life, it had been a long time until Severus finally dared to make the comprobation. He knew that there was a crucial evidence that would demonstrate whether his soul still remained pure enough, or if it had been permanently damaged. That cold night, at the Forest of Dean, his knuckles had turned snow white while gripping the Gryffindor Sword's handle, trying to focus on a happy memory to invoke his patronus. When the bright silver doe had formed in front of him, he had almost cried with relief. Dumbledore had been right. He was still whole.

And at last, all his waiting and sacrifice had paid off when he found out that his deepest hope had been right too, and he had reunited with Lily after his death.

But then, of course, everything had been taken away from him, again. But maybe it wasn't all lost. Maybe there still was a way to reverse that ridiculous resurrecting magic. That wouldn't qualify as killing himself, would it? It would just be returning to his natural state, which after a huge venomous snake's bite, could be no other than dead. His soul wouldn't be accountable for that, right?

So again, Severus focused all his energy, at least the little energy he had with every passing day, to investigate all he could find about patronus magic and healing spells, hoping to find the key that would turn his situation around. This proved to be an effective distraction, and to provide his days with purpose again…

But still, there was something annoying him. And it wasn't until one night, when he received an unexpected visit, that he realized what it was.

He had been reading an ancient book on Nordic magic, until his eyelids began to become heavier… he was almost about to call it a night, when he heard the soft knocking of knuckles in his door. He became suddenly alert, his heart accelerating for no apparent reason. He rushed to the door, and felt a deep void of disappointment when he opened it.

"I'm sorry to bother you this late, Severus. Can I come in?" Madame Pomfrey had asked, her face almost gray, her eyes sunk.

He had stepped aside to allow her entrance, trying to ignore the bitter taste at the back of his throat. "How may I help you?" he asked quietly, sensing that this wouldn't be a pleasant conversation.

Madame Pomfrey was rubbing her hands nervously, unable to look him in the eye. "How are you feeling?" she asked, though it was clearly an attempt to gain some time.

"As good as can be expected." he replied simply, unwilling to small-talk his way to the point.

He had summoned a teapot and two cups, offering the mediwitch one of them, that she politely declined. He sat in front of her, patiently waiting for her to spill the contents of her mind.

"Severus, I want you to know that I have never… ever, considered this." she said at last, with a strangled voice.

"What would this be?" he inquired calmly.

"Miss Silvermoon… She's in agony. Her skin keeps falling off, faster and faster each time… Her flesh is constantly raw. Dreamless Sleep is not enough to keep her down now. I've never seen anything like this."

"Shall I assume that you're still determined to honor her request of not being transferred?" he asked, and his tone clearly implied that he considered that to be a mistake.

"She's going to die there alone." Poppy explained, with tears in her eyes. "Here, at least..." her voice faded, as her gaze got lost in the dancing flames of the fireplace.

"Then, it appears there's not much to be done, besides waiting for the time to come, and cross our fingers that it will come soo… Oh." he grunted, frowning, when Poppy's eyes found his own with a meaningful look.

"Please, Severus." the mediwitch leaned forward, her voice turning into a plea. "There must be something quick, something painless… For her to go to sleep and not wake up anymore."

Snape looked away, attempting to maintain a steady expression that didn't give away his thoughts. Yes, of course such potion existed. He even had the ingredients down at his lab. But he was pretty confident that Poppy's request was coming from desperation, and not from thorough consideration and true intention of following through with her plan.

"I know it's an awful thing to ask." the mediwitch said, covering her face with her palms. "But believe me, keeping her alive longer is even worse. She's been begging me for days now… And Minerva asked me not to bother you, and you know I wouldn't want to compromise your recovery, but… I can't ask Miss Granger to prepare such a potion! She's too young, and too ki..." she bit her tongue immediately, but it was too late.

"Too kind?" Snape guessed, his eyes darkening. Why did everyone keep assuming that he was too far gone into the dark side, that his salvation was already impossible, that one more killing on his account wouldn't make a difference? Had he dodged the Dumbledore bullet only to end up poisoning a student? How many merciful murders could he cause before it eventually took a toll on his soul?

He was about to snap at the woman's obvious implying, but he realized the level of desperation that she was dealing with. So instead, he inhaled slowly through his nose, calming himself. "I'm afraid I don't have the necessary ingredients to make that potion now." he lied. "If you insist, I will place an order and they will arrive in a few days." He was hoping to buy some time, hopefully the woman would reconsider her request, and then she would be glad that he hadn't rushed into it.

"Thank you." tears rolled down Madame Pomfrey's cheeks, her trembling hands trying to wipe them quickly.

"My pleasure." he said in a dark, sarcastic tone, meant to make her feel ashamed of her assumptions about him.

"I really am sorry to put you in this position, Severus. I swear, I'll never tell anyone. And..." she hesitated, nervous.

"I won't say a word either." he promised, walking her to the door.

It was only after she had disappeared into the tunnel, and he had closed the door behind her… That Severus noticed again the emptiness that had settled in his stomach when he had opened it before. An emptiness that came from not having found who he was hoping to see on the other side.

He walked back to his couch, to finish his cup of tea. Expecting to see Hermione Granger behind his door was only natural, given that lately, she had been the only person repeatedly taking the liberty of showing up at his chambers outside office hours. But the problem wasn't that he had expected to see her… it was that he had hoped to see her.

Could it be possible that he was missing her? Could that be the real reason why he had felt the need to keep going to the lab, so at least he would be somehow closer to her? Why on earth was he feeling this inexplicable, totally inappropriate attachment towards the girl?

He was probably just lacking human interaction. For three weeks now, he had been eating alone, reading alone, walking alone… It was natural that his mind lacked the healthy stimulation of a human conversation. And, given that his longest conversations since the Battle had all been with her, it was also natural that he unconsciously projected his need for interaction upon her… Yes, that made sense.

He decided that he would make an effort to show up at some meals, to at least participate in the teacher's small talk for a while every few days. That would probably be enough to get rid of those insistent thoughts, that urged him to find an excuse to go see Hermione Granger. However, when he went to the Great Hall next morning to have breakfast, he found that the room was being used for Miss Granger's N.E. . Had it been a month already? He joined a very surprised McGonagall on the alternative dining room, and the witch informed him of the examination schedule for the next couple days, and how they would be returning to the Great Hall for lunch after Hermione's last Potion exam, on Friday morning.

That's when he had decided that there would be no harm in walking by while Miss Granger was waiting, under the excuse of making sure she would give a good impression of her Potion's teacher.

But something weird had happened the moment he saw her, pacing anxiously back and forth in front of the tall door.

A liquid warmth had irradiated from his chest, through his blood, and reaching every cell in his body. This sudden, pleasant warmth caught him completely off guard, since he had been feeling terribly cold for weeks now, ever since the day he had left the castle and later been attacked by those Death Eaters. Upon watching her long, brown curls bouncing up and down with her nervous movement, he had spontaneously recalled the scent of her hair, that he had smelled that awkward night when she had come so close to him... And, though he had buried that memory behind his strongest Occlumancy shields, in that moment he knew for certain that he had not been missing human interaction. He had been missing her. He had been missing the strange connection that had developed between them, ever since she brought him back from the Shrieking Shack. He had been missing that feeling of knowing that there was someone able to see him.

Before the implications of this sudden realizations could reach him, he had forced himself to speak, to distract himself with his usual snarky remarks. But just hearing her voice again, seeing her eyes brightening up when she saw him, boosted his mood higher than it had been in a month, high enough that he had, indeed, ended up making a joke.