Hermione stifled a yawn, doing her best to focus on Snape. He was pacing the aisles, speaking in a low, hypnotic voice as he described uncommon uses for lacewing flies.
"A rare tonic," he said, "extraordinarily difficult to brew. If one can manage to do so properly, however, it can remove even the most grievous scars. The transformational properties…"
Of course, none of this was new to her. She'd read an entire book on lacewing flies during fourth year. Surely it wouldn't hurt to zone out for a minute or two, just long enough to rest her eyes? As long as she didn't…
"Miss Granger!"
She gasped, shocked to find Snape looming over her. Hadn't he just been on the other side of the room?
"I'm sorry," she said hastily. "What did you say?"
"I said, 'class is dismissed'. See me in my office."
Had she really been asleep for 20 minutes? Shaking her head, she followed him out of the classroom, scouring her mind for some plausible excuse. Unfortunately, she was too groggy to come up with anything suitable.
She wasn't the only one who was tired. It was Friday, nearly a week since Snape had used the Room of Requirement. His face was even paler than usual, his movements sluggish as he closed the door to his office.
"Explain."
What was she supposed to say? Should she tell him that she'd been patrolling the halls every night? He'd be none too pleased about that, especially if she explained her reasoning. Telling him that he needed help, that her strategy seemed like it would be far more effective than his? 'None too pleased' was an understatement. He'd be positively livid.
Besides, secrecy was the most crucial part of her plan. Not that she didn't trust Snape, but if the culprit was eavesdropping…
No, she couldn't take that risk. If her suspicions were correct and this was an unusually small Animagus, they couldn't hope to find them without the Marauder's Map. How many years had Peter Pettigrew gone undetected before his identity was revealed?
This person was obviously smarter than Pettigrew, not to mention far more skilled at magic. How else had they been able to access so many restricted areas without getting caught? Those messages, all the sinister pranks they'd pulled? They wouldn't have been able to do that without switching forms, which they'd somehow managed to do without detection. Clearly, they knew what they were doing… which meant she had to be extremely careful to keep her own intentions hidden.
"Sorry," she said, realizing that Snape was still waiting for an answer. "I stayed up a bit too late the last couple nights. Studying, you know."
"Miss Granger…" He hesitated, letting out a heavy sigh. "While I commend your dedication, there's no point in going to extremes."
"I know. It's just I lost track of time, and…"
"Yes, well, be more mindful in the future. If you continue to fall asleep in my classes, I'll have no choice but to penalize you."
She nodded, waiting for him to continue. He said nothing, however, rubbing his eyes as he summoned a pot of coffee.
"Sir?"
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"Will you be using my room tomorrow?"
He hesitated, fixing himself a cup before he conjured a second one for her. She accepted it gratefully, adding an obscene amount of cream and sugar.
"Not tomorrow," he said, pausing to take a sip. "I have to attend the Quidditch game."
"Oh yeah, Gryffindor's playing Slytherin, aren't they?"
He inclined his head. "While these events are somewhat less mandatory now that I'm no longer Head of House, I'm still expected to be there. That's particularly true as I've already missed two games this year."
"So," she said. "No time to catch up on sleep."
"I'm afraid not."
"How about Sunday, then?"
"Perhaps," he said. "On one condition."
She frowned. "What's that?"
"That you'll agree to use the room on Saturday. Catch up on your rest, make sure you're prepared for another week of classes."
His tone was casual, but she knew he wouldn't have said it if he wasn't concerned for her well-being. Resisting the urge to smile, she took another sip of coffee before she responded.
"So I have your permission to skip the game?"
"You do… as long as you agree to stay in your room this time."
"Professor Snape," she said. "I think you just became my favorite teacher."
"Yes, well…" He shifted uncomfortably, though she knew he was pleased by her comment. "I'll see you Sunday morning. 9 AM sharp."
Their weekend plans went off without a hitch. Hermione slept from breakfast until dinner on Saturday. On Sunday, Snape didn't leave the room until right before curfew. By Monday morning, he looked as well rested as she felt, engaging in what appeared to be a lively conversation with Flitwick as she passed him in the hall.
By Monday night, she'd never felt more ready. She put on the Invisibility Cloak, casting a Silencing Charm before she left the Room of Requirement. Like last week, she saw Snape every now and again, black robes billowing behind him as he scoured the school from top to bottom. She did her best to keep her distance, heading to the first floor as soon as she realized he was ascending the stairs.
So far, her efforts hadn't yielded much. There'd been a few more messages left on the walls, and she could've sworn she'd heard strange noises a couple times. Honestly, she was no closer to discovering the truth than she'd been a week ago, but she refused to be discouraged. She ducked into an alcove, her brow furrowed as she studied the map.
There were plenty of names she recognized. Others were unfamiliar. In either case, they were all clustered together, dozens of students who'd long since retired to their dormitories. She saw Minerva in the Headmaster's Office, along with several professors who appeared to be in their private quarters. Filch was somewhere on the third floor, while Snape was prowling the floor above him.
After a while, she headed to the Great Hall, settling herself at her usual table. The ceiling above her was pitch black, the thinnest sliver of a crescent moon slicing through the artificial sky. She squinted beneath the light of the few stray candles that were still burning, her eyes fixed on the entrance to the dungeon.
Was it a student? It had to be. She had no reason to suspect any of the professors, and ghosts couldn't write or cast spells. Filch? He was incapable of using magic, and besides…
She tensed, her eyes darting to a different part of the map. A single dot had separated itself from the others, stepping out into the hall. Not a Slytherin as she'd expected, but…
Ravenclaw?
The dot moved down the hallway, descending a flight of stairs. Where was he…
As Hermione watched, the strangest thing happened. That dot… that student? He walked straight to Filch's office.
Sneaking out after curfew… shouldn't he be going out of his way to avoid Filch? Apparently not. The two dots hovered close to one another for what seemed like an unusually long time before they headed in opposite directions.
Hermione got to her feet, adjusting the cloak before she took off after the student. She had no proof of anything, but if she could catch him, perhaps even question him about his odd behavior…
Catch him? She never even saw him. By the time she made it to the upper floors, he'd already disappeared, rejoining the other dots in Ravenclaw tower.
"Damn."
Could it be a false alarm? Perhaps, though she wasn't ready to give up yet. Turning her attention to Filch, she was surprised to see him in the dungeons. What was he doing down there? She watched him curiously, realizing he'd just entered Snape's storeroom.
She took off at a run, though she had a feeling it was too late. She'd just reached the final set of stairs when he brushed past her, muttering something under his breath.
There was no point in following him now. He headed straight back to his office, which could hardly be considered suspicious.
As for Snape's storeroom…
She frowned as she slipped inside, igniting the tip of her wand. As usual, the shelves were perfectly arranged, dozens of vials glittering beneath the light. There was nothing out of place that she could see… maybe Filch had come down here to investigate some false report? That seemed like the most likely explanation. After all, what could he possibly know about potions ingredients?
She was just about to leave when she spotted several vials on an upper shelf. She'd learned how to make that potion in her sixth year, a glowing mixture in a distinct shade of periwinkle. Sniffing it just to be sure, she nodded as she pocketed a couple vials.
Snape wouldn't mind, would he? Really, it wasn't like she'd stolen the potion. She'd find a way to replace it… hopefully without having to explain why she'd taken it in the first place.
She glanced at the map, her eyes widening as she noticed that Snape was headed in her direction. Hastily, she extinguished her wand, making sure she was well away from the storeroom by the time he reached the dungeons. She made her way back to the Room of Requirement, deciding there was no point in continuing her patrol. The dot she'd spotted earlier was now perfectly still, fast asleep in the dormitory where he belonged.
Alain Ashwood?
It didn't take Hermione long to figure out who he was. He sat with the other Ravenclaws at breakfast, chewing on a bit of bacon as he stared off into the distance. He was a sixth year student, a slender boy with a shock of light brown hair that hung over his forehead. His eyes were a pale, crystal blue… eyes that missed nothing despite how distracted he seemed.
She averted her own eyes, careful not to stare. Instead, she focused on her most recent letter from Ron, mumbling halfhearted responses as Ginny rattled on about Quidditch practice.
The boy seemed unusually interested in what she was doing. She could feel it, though she didn't dare look in his direction again. Once, she caught him out of the corner of her eye, watching as his gaze flickered from her to the high table. Snape was oblivious to the scrutiny, his attention fixed on his plate as he nibbled a piece of toast.
At this point, Hermione wasn't suspicious. She was thoroughly convinced. Unfortunately, that wouldn't be enough. She'd need some sort of proof before she started making accusations.
The rest of the day seemed to drag on forever. She struggled to pay attention in her classes, distracted by thoughts of the night ahead. Now that she knew who Alain was, wouldn't it be easier to put an end to all this if she caught him in the act? She hoped so. More than anything, she wanted Snape to get a good night's sleep. She wanted him to be comfortable in his own quarters, wanted them both to feel safe and secure. A chance to relax, breathe easier, nothing to worry about except work or studies until the end of term…
All that would be possible once this situation was behind them. Of course, that also meant they'd have no reason to meet privately anymore. There'd be no lengthy discussions, no need to talk about anything personal at all. He wouldn't sleep in her room on the weekends, leaving behind the comforting scent of sandalwood and old books. That smell would fade, even as the distance between them grew. Once she left school… when would she even see him again? He'd still be at Hogwarts, while she…
"Dismissed."
She waited for the other students to leave, hesitating as she reached Snape's desk. He lifted his head, giving her a quizzical look.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
Part of her desperately wanted to tell him. She hated keeping secrets, especially from someone who'd become her primary confidant. But then she reminded herself how furious he'd be if he knew she'd been wandering the halls at night. He'd insist that she leave the Invisibility Cloak with him, preventing her from seeing her plan through to it's conclusion.
No. He'd know the truth soon enough. There'd be no avoiding it when she presented her evidence. But first, she needed to get that evidence… until that happened, she couldn't risk coming clean.
"Sir…" What was she supposed to say? That she'd stopped to talk to him simply because she'd wanted to? Because the thought of losing their connection left her feeling strangely disappointed? No, she couldn't tell him that either.
"I… I was just wondering if there are any new developments. With the patrols, you know. Have you seen anything?"
He shook his head, sighing heavily. "I'm afraid not. They've painted a couple more Dark Marks on the walls, and there was an incident in the Transfiguration classroom that I'm quite sure can be credited to them. Any hint as to who they are, however…"
"Don't worry," she told him. "No one can stay hidden forever."
Now that Hermione knew who Alain was, she couldn't believe she hadn't noticed him sooner. How long had he been watching her and Snape? She felt him staring at the back of her head all throughout dinner, resisting the urge to turn around and confront him.
"Want to come with me to the library?" Ginny said over dessert. "I need to finish this bloody essay."
"Thanks, but I can't."
"You don't want to go to the library? Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?"
Forcing herself to laugh, she searched for a plausible excuse. Finally, she mumbled something about needing a good night's sleep, bidding Ginny farewell before she hurried to the Room of Requirement.
She hadn't lied. Nervous anticipation had given way to exhaustion, her eyelids drooping as she changed out of her school robes. She wished she had Snape's ability to summon a pot of coffee, though…
"Of course!"
The Rejuvenation Potion she'd borrowed from Snape's storeroom… how could she have forgotten? Retrieving the vials from her pocket, she downed the contents of one before she sat down to put on her shoes.
She expected to feel a burst of energy. Instead, that simple task seemed like an enormous effort. She rubbed her eyes, unable to stifle a yawn as she glanced at the bed. Was it normal to feel this tired? It seemed like the potion should have the opposite effect, but…
She lost her train of thought, hardly aware of what she was doing as she dropped onto the mattress. Just for a second, then she'd get up, and…
"Bloody hell!"
Hermione stared at the clock, shaking her head in disbelief. It was well past 2 AM… had she really been asleep for five hours?! Hastily, she put on the cloak, casting a couple charms before she unfolded the map.
She looked for the dot in Ravenclaw tower, only to realize it wasn't there. Where was he? Where was Snape, for that matter? She expected to find him patrolling the halls, though she quickly realized that wasn't the case. His dot was in his private quarters, so still that she knew he must've fallen asleep.
Her eyes widened as she spotted a second dot in his office. After a moment, that same dot entered his quarters, advancing on him until the two names overlapped.
By then, she'd already reached the fourth floor, her heart pounding furiously as she raced toward the dungeon.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Severus awoke with a gasp, though it was too late to stop it. His body went rigid, his eyes darting around in frantic circles as he attempted to identify the intruder.
"Snape," a voice spoke from beyond his line of vision, "it was only a matter of time. You must've known that."
Naturally, he couldn't respond. He couldn't do anything except stare at the shadow on the wall. It seemed grotesquely large, though that might've been an illusion created by the single candle that flickered on his bedside table.
Why the hell had he chosen to sleep here? He couldn't even remember now. His last clear memory was of sitting in his office, tipping back a vial of Rejuvenation Potion as he'd prepared for his nightly patrol.
"You know why I'm here, don't you?"
He couldn't identify the raspy whisper, couldn't even shake his head. He lay frozen, trying to summon up some wandless incantation he might be able to cast. Unfortunately, the first few failed him, his state of paralysis rendering him magically immobile as well.
"I'm here because you're a traitor. You betrayed the Dark Lord, a treachery that resulted in his death."
Reading the messages was one thing. Hearing the words spoken aloud? They took on a whole new meaning, infused with so much hatred that Severus couldn't help fearing what might happen next. The idea of being murdered in his own bed, helpless to defend himself…
"I don't know how you managed to escape the Dark Lord's wrath, but it won't happen again. You're going to die, Snape."
Indeed, Lord Voldemort himself hadn't been able to kill Severus. To think that this fool might be able to finish the job? It was too much to bear, a cruel mockery of the second chance Hermione had given him. Had he really beaten the odds, only to…
Suddenly, it was her face he saw, eyes shimmering with tears as she'd hovered over him in the Shrieking Shack. He recalled what she'd said to him, her voice trembling with emotion as he'd hovered on the edge of consciousness.
"It's not too late. Stay with me just a little longer, all right?"
That was why he'd chosen to keep breathing, he supposed. Knowing there was a single person who'd cared whether he lived or died? That had made all the difference, even if he'd resented her for it at the time.
Now? He still wasn't ready to give up. This existence of his… he'd thought it would lose all meaning after Voldemort's fall. Clearly, that wasn't the case. His life still mattered, at least to her, which was reason enough to go on living.
But it wasn't just that. As strange as it seemed, he wanted to live for his own sake, too. He'd never allowed himself to feel that way… at least, not since Lily's death. Remorse had never allowed him to heal, bitter recriminations of the past preventing him from hoping for a better future. But now that the war was behind him, now that he'd fulfilled his vow…
Yes, he wanted to live, to find some measure of peace now that all was said and done. Did he deserve it? He couldn't be sure, though he supposed it didn't matter. He'd done everything in his power to set things right… as far as he was concerned, the rest of his life was his own.
Granted, that life might not last much longer, especially if he was hit with the Killing Curse. As long as there was a chance, however…
"You're going to die," the intruder whispered again. "But first, you're going to suffer."
Severus sighed in relief, even as he braced himself for the pain. It wasn't over. Not yet.
"Crucio!"