Chapter Nine:

Professor Snape,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. There is something I would like to ask of you. Do you think it would be possible for me to continue-

The yellow parchment was crumpled and it soon joined its fellow-decapitated-letters on the concrete floor. Pulling her hair in frustration, Hermione paced around the room, trying to come up with something informal, yet slightly formal; something friendly, but polite; something serious, but not boring - seemingly paradoxical tones, to jot down in the letter to her soon-to-be husband. It seemed absurd, writing to him like that. She'd never really penned down anything for him apart from the numerous essays and homework assignments she'd submitted in the past, so she was at a loss when it came to things like how she should address him and whether she should inquire about his well-being.

When she approached Ginny and presented her with her dilemma, her advice had been to "meet him and get it over with". That was, of course, easier said than done. It further raised the question of whether it would be appropriate to simply show up at his doorstep or if she would have to inform him beforehand. In which case, she would have to write him a letter yet again, which brought her back to square one. Harry had offered to escort her to his house in case she chose the former option, but surely the man would acquire a sour mood if he met Harry, who had been the bane of his existence for over half a dozen years.

Luckily for Hermione, unanswered thoughts almost always drifted her towards books and it was between the towering shelves of Tomes and Scrolls that she found a reasonably agreeable solution to her problem. She ran into the man himself.

"Professor Snape?"

The tall man turned to face her and nodded his head in acknowledgement of her uncertain greeting.

"Are you busy-? I mean, I would like to ask you something. Is this a good time?"

"I have been busier. The location, however, is far from. We can converse in Grimmauld Place. I shall be there in 15 minutes."

Grimmauld Place was even more awkward, if that was possible. It was eerily silent and desolate inside. Their footfalls echoed around the house and when they had reached the dark dining room, Hermione stood, nervously staring at the carpet before clearing her throat.

"Professor, can I keep my surname? I mean, uh… It would be convenient if I didn't have to change my name after… this. All the records and… Would you mind-"

"Keep it. It is of no consequence to me."

"Oh. Thank you."

"Is that all?"

She looked away, sheepishly. "Yes, that's all. I should probably have sent you a letter, I suppose." Noticing his frown, she continued, "Thank you for the portkey the other night."

"It was not there by my design. I take it that it proved to be a handy escape, then?"

"Yes, professor. Malfoy told me about it."

"Severus. And he will be Draco to you soon."

With that, he left Hermione in the empty house, wondering how she would ever get around to calling her professor by name.

The sea breeze swirled her robes around, the salty droplets of water crashed against the morbid rocks, spraying her dainty figure, drenching her from head to toe till she shivered. She seemed to shiver more out of fear and anxiety than cold. She had reached a conclusion. Sort of. Not exactly, really. She'd decided to take the cowardly path. Run from her destiny. Was it her destiny? Did she really deserve a pitiful existence with Professor- Severus - oh who cares anymore! - with him after all she'd done? There were others who'd sacrificed their own lives, so she wasn't quite up there. No, she didn't delude herself when it came to what she had achieved. She'd fought in the war, she'd survived. She hadn't deserved to, but she had. But she hadn't died to save another. She hadn't died to save Ron. He had deserved to live. So this had to be it.

I promise.

What was that then? She closed her eyes, trying to forget how the last few seconds of life in Ron's eyes had pierced her soul. She had given her word. Would she break it just because her future seemed uncertain and menacing? She owed him much more than a half-hearted attempt at happiness, didn't she? Could she actually do it? Betray the trust he sought in his final breaths? She could live for him, couldn't she?

No, of course not! The man was her professor, for Merlin's sake. Or had been. He was what, double her age? Yeah yeah, it didn't matter so much because they'd probably live for another century, but still. He barely understood her, and she didn't understand him at all. And marriage wasn't even the worst part. She would have accepted it, albeit grudgingly, if she merely had to be his wife. But no. They would… do it. And have offspring. Babies.

Her leg slipped over the moist rock she stood on, and she almost fell over. Heart pounding, she steadied herself. She hadn't even said her goodbyes. What would Harry-

She would have to sleep with him. With him. Not Ron. No, it would never be Ron. Because he'd died, hadn't he? She saw the hooded Death Eater stab him like it had been yesterday. She saw it all so clearly, the twisting of the silver knife, the screams of agony, the look of ultimate horror on his face. His eyes locked with hers before she was pulled back into the throes of battle. That gaze, it had been so penetrating. It seemed like he had tried to tell her so many things in that split second, yet she hadn't pinned down even one of them. The blood had pooled below his mangled body. It was red, quite like his hair, but deeper. It should have been her.

"Don't do it."

Jolted out of her thoughts, she gasped as she saw him. Standing there, in all his glory, was Draco, his dark eyes almost as intense as Ron's had been. Ron. He had died. She had to too. It always came back to that.

"I need to be with him."

"I know. But please, get down here, it's dangerous where you're standing."

"No, I must do this. You don't understand."

"Try me. Alright, I'll cut you a deal. You get down here and hear me out. Then you're free to go. Do what you want. Just listen to me, okay?"

She slowly but surely made her way to where he had been standing. The rocks were less slippery there and farther from the edge of the precipice.

"Do you know what survivor's guilt is, Hermione?"

For once, she didn't have an answer. Oh, she knew what it was, alright. But she couldn't give him a detailed description, it sounded all too familiar. Her throat constricted of its own accord.

"Regretting the fact that you're alive. That you're alive instead of someone else. That you've done something wrong by living through tough times. Look at me, Hermione."

Brown eyes met grey ones.

"It's not your fault, you hear me? I may not know what happened that night or how he died, but that was war. People die, others survive. Don't live because you owe it to him, your parents, or your friends. You owe it to yourself. It was a traumatic experience and it left us all with deep scars. But we can heal them. The blemishes will stay on, but the wounds can be cleaned up. Seek help, Hermione. You want to be with him? You will. Some day. When you're old and have a dozen grandchildren, warm in your bed. But not today. We all have our nightmares that keep us up at night, but we have to live with them."

She shivered, but he did not miss the slight nod she gave him.

"Here, use this cloak. And go straight home, alright?"

She took a violet cloak from his outstretched hand and shrugged into it. It felt warm and comforting. "Oh and Granger? Don't for a second think that I married Astoria because of your little pep talk. I just love her so very much, you see. It's all very Gryffindor-esque." He pretended to swoon, caught her eye and winked.

Hermione was too drained to realise that she hadn't even asked him for his information, that he'd given it freely. Maybe Draco had merely been keeping with their implicit understanding of giving information in return for the same. Maybe he'd grown used to their little barter system of sorts. But even he couldn't deny that he had, for the first time, volunteered this supposed "information" without having been asked to do so.

Author's Note: Hello, readers. Thank you Amar 2, I'm so thrilled that you liked the Draco-Hermione scene. To everyone who reads, reviews, favourites, follows or even mistakenly stumbles upon my story, a huge thank you.

This chapter explores one of the themes of my story, so I hope it surpasses expectations. I had a rather upsetting revelation today, when I realised that I will not be clearing one of the major entrance exams I wrote. It really brought me down, because I'd been prepping for it for 2 years straight, but I channeled that sorrow into this chapter. Hopefully it shows.

Huge shoutouts to JKR, who owns this world and all its characters. What would I do without you, wonderful woman?