Hello readers! I hope the long wait wasn't too bad!

Thank you to all the lovely reviewers. I was completely floored by the support I got of my decision to reduce updates (you all are so understanding ily) and the comments on the chapter.

Without further ado...

Chapter 11

Two hours later, the salve had finished its work and the skin that had been burned hours earlier was smooth and unscarred, if still a bit pink and tender. Hermione had appropriated one of Severus' shirts (he had protested, although not for very long) and remained on the bed as the two of them talked.

"So why did you grab me?" Hermione asked after a somewhat awkward pause in the conversation. At his expression, she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Maybe you can ignore the giant pink elephant in the room, but I can't."

He shook his head at her. "Giant pink elephant?" He had heard the term before- he wasn't totally ignorant of the Muggle world- but he would have never expected to hear it in Hermione's still slightly raspy voice. Or his, for that matter.

Hermione nodded seriously, curls falling into her face before she brushed them away impatiently. "That we are not ignoring. Why did you grab me?"

He scowled at the bag that had been kicked to the base of the bed. "When were you planning to tell me that you, Weasley, and Potter were leaving?"

As usual, she caught on fast. "The clothes and the food?" she asked quietly. "That was what this was all about?"

"Yes," he snapped, dark eyes flashing up to meet hers. "Care to explain?"

She huffed, leaning back without breaking their gaze. "Yes, actually. Contingency plan. Moody suggested it, actually. Have food and clothes ready to go just in case I need to grab Harry and go. Harry would probably insist on my grabbing Ron as well, so I packed for him too. With all the Death Eaters hanging around the house, things could go wrong quickly."

His face darkened when she mentioned Death Eaters, and she rolled her eyes again and snapped at him. "Come off it, Severus. You know I don't consider you a Death Eater."

"I am one, though," Severus replied, voice dangerously soft. "I am a Death Eater."

Hermione had kept his gaze. "And I don't know why you joined him, or why you decided to turn your back on him. But I do know that you are a good man who has done his best to turn me from a normal girl into one who can help us win this war by whatever means necessary."

"And you don't think I regret that?" Severus asked, looking away, voice hollow. "When is the last time you saw your parents, Hermione?" For some reason, it seemed normal to say her given name now. She smiled every time he did it- no matter how serious the time was.

But now she just glared at him fiercely. It was at times like these he saw the wild in her, the Hermione that was tightly bound under rules and social acceptability and the desire to be normal, with a thin veneer of placidity on top. And that Hermione came out when they were fighting, glorious and fearless. "Do you think I care? You've seen most of my mind and childhood- since when would I have appreciated seeing them?"

It was true- Hermione's relationship with her parents was more than strange considering what he would have expected years earlier. Hermione had figured it out at a young age- it didn't take a genius. Her mother had been on a fast track to a fantastic surgical residency, when she had met Matthew Granger. He had gotten her pregnant, her parents had cut off the money for medical school and demanded she marry. Helen Granger married Matt, had the child, and gone to school for dentistry. She wasn't a complete monster- she did love Hermione- but she also deeply resented her child and her husband for ending her career. Matt Granger wasn't too happy either- he didn't want a child and he hadn't wanted to marry Helen. But things had turned out the way they did, and they ended up staying together out of familiarity more than anything else.

Her parents loved her, of course- it was just they weren't there very often and they didn't show love frequently. They had figured early on that Hermione was more than capable of amusing herself and assuaged their guilt by telling themselves that she was happier with her books than with them.

Hermione grew up alone. Not neglected- alone. She had all the books she could wish for at the local library and respectable clothes and more trouble than she would have wanted from her classmates and teachers. So she was brilliant and lonely growing up, mocked by her classmates then feared when bad things happened to those who hurt her.

Her parents were half terrified of the things their daughter was capable of- one memorable occasion involved a bookshelf crashing to the floor breaking several little glass figurines displayed there. Another happened around the time Hermione was eight. They were at a friend's wedding, and an older boy was bothering Hermione. She accidentally broke the wrist that he was using to pull her hair and shove her- without touching him. Her parents had known what happened- from then on, they didn't ignore her, exactly, but merely existed around her, doing their best not to anger their daughter.

Severus was grateful she had befriended Potter and Weasley after the incident with the troll- if circumstances had been any different, Hermione Granger might have been the next Voldemort- or worse, the next Bellatrix Lestrange.

So when Hermione asked him if she would care about seeing her parents again, Severus shrugged. "I suppose not," he said, keeping his voice steady. "But as much as you dislike them, do you want to see them die?"

"No, of course not," Hermione said, startled. "They're my parents."

"Alright then," Severus said, pinching the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to relieve the tension. "We need to find a way to get them out of the country and safe. You've certainly attracted the Dark Lord's attention and he knows you're Muggleborn. The moment you are brought to his attention again, he'll send someone after your parents."

To her credit, Hermione didn't lose much color. Then again, she didn't have that much to lose after the earlier incident. "I thought about that. They wouldn't just leave though, no matter what I say. What if we erased their memories? Then we could make them believe they're different people, people who've always wanted to move- move to Australia or something."

He considered the idea for a while. "That could work," he finally admitted, albeit a tad grudgingly. "It would give you a chance to explore your Legilimency skills a bit more- you would have to erase every memory they have of you."

"And then we should set the house on fire," Hermione said, nodding once. "My grandparents are all dead and my parents were only siblings. If the house burns down, it takes care of problems with their friends." There was no audible change in her voice, but Severus could tell that she was forcibly holding back tears. But when she looked up, her eyes were clear and her face more serene than troubled.

Severus sighed, cracking his knuckles. "Then it is decided," he announced. "When we go to London to take care of Skeeter, we'll take care of your parents."

Hermione smiled tightly. "Sounds fine to me."

"I am going to kill someone," Severus hissed, rage visible in every line of his body. He had lined up targets and charmed them to repair themselves as soon as they were broken. As deadly and fast as Severus was, they weren't repairing themselves quickly enough for his anger.

Hermione was leaning against the wall of the practice room in Safe House Three, watching him with steady eyes. "What happened?" she asked, an undercurrent of worry running through her voice.

He destroyed a few more targets, then turned to face her, nostrils flaring. "What happened," he drawled. "What happened was a horrid little man by the code name of Telemachus managed to get himself and three other of my informants killed."

She laid a hand on his arm, half expecting him to flinch away from it. "Severus. Was anyone else compromised?"

"No," he snapped. "But-"

"Then stop worrying about it," she ordered, meeting his dark eyes with her own. "It wasn't your fault that someone was stupid. But if you let it get to you, if you let if create an anger that turns into a weakness, it really does become a problem. Be angry, if you need to be, but control yourself as well."

If anyone else had told him that, he would have scoffed or ripped them to shreds with words. But it was Hermione- and she wasn't being condescending or offering false sympathy. She was speaking with quiet authority, genuine sorrow for the loss of life, and hope for him. He exhaled slowly through his nose.

"Spar with me?" she asked. "Those targets aren't doing either of us any good. And I haven't had a good fight for a while."

Normally he would have said no- it wasn't a good idea for him to fight when he was angry. But for some reason he considered saying yes- his anger was waning and his attention was focusing on the slight woman before him.

"I'm not going to pull any punches," he warned her, ignoring her smile. "You might want to cast a few padding charms."

"It's too bloody cold to be the middle of summer," Severus grumbled as Hermione released his arm in the rather shady alley they had Apparated to. "Even for London." He was dressed all in black- not his normal white button down and black slacks. Instead of the white shirt, he had a warm turtleneck. Hermione had noticed that he hated having very much skin showing in public- usually it was just his face and hands.

Hermione shivered, taking her wand and casting discrete warming charms on herself and Severus. "Harry said he thinks it's the Dementors. They're altering the weather."

In response, Severus shook his head once sharply. "Use your eyes, girl. Do you see any Dementors here?" His tone dripped sarcasm.

She shot him an annoyed glance. "Harry said. I'm not stupid, Severus. The Wizarding World would be in riot if there were Dementors around every corner in London, and they need to be in close proximity to affect temperatures. It would take more Dementors than people in London to achieve these temperatures. If I thought a human being could be insanely powerful enough to maintain it over the entire British Isles, then I would say that it's a high-powered dampening spell meeting an abnormally dreary London summer."

"Not quite," Severus drawled, smirking. "Close, though. Yes, it is a high powered dampening spell, and yes, it looked like London would have been a dreary mess without all the spells. But, contrary to what you proposed, the Dark Lord is not an 'insanely powerful' wizard. He is behind it, but others are powering it." His gaze turned serious, daring her to come up with the answer.

She turned the problem over her in head for a few moments, before her head shot up and her eyes met Severus'. Her eyes were furious, and she had gone pale with rage. "Don't tell me he can suck your magic through that awful mark."

His hands met in a sharp clapping sound as he brought them together twice, sarcastically. "Correct," said the Professor, in his usual sardonic manner. "The ritual in which the Death Eaters gain their Dark Marks links their power to the Dark Lord's. They are linked to him until death do them part…" He let his voice trail off. "I was lucky. The first Dark Mark drained too much- he refined it, but over much. Mine does not draw so much power, nor does it link his life to mine. He was dissatisfied, however, and the third vision is the one he uses now."

Hermione's gaze calmed somewhat. "So you're telling me that if he dies, you're safe?"

Severus nodded after a spilt second of hesitation. "Yes- me and most of my generation. But rest assured that if we take him down, we take most of them down as well." That matters to her?

The smile that spread across her lips would have made the blood of a lesser man run cold. "Good. And after we stop at Skeeter's, we go to my parents."

They exited the alley, Hermione taking three strides for Severus' one. It didn't take him long to notice, and he slowed, sighing dramatically. "Here," he snapped, offering her his arm. "I don't want to be halfway to London and realize that you're wandering somewhere else."

Hermione slipped her arm through the crook his arm made and beamed up at him. "Thank you," she chirped They continued walking, comfortably warm from the warming charm. "Have you heard anything about Umbridge? Harry saw her at his trial- said she's an ugly little toad."

Severus looked down at her, dark eyes distant. "No. The Hogwarts staff is to meet her in a week or two before the term begins. While we're in London, do you need anything from the shops?"

"As much as I'd like to stop by Flourish and Blotts," Hermione said with a sigh, "It's probably not wise. I can pick up some clothes at my house after we take care of my parents. Do you need to stop anywhere?"

There was a slight hesitation in his step, and he stopped for a moment and pulled her to the side of a large brick building. "I would like to stop at my family home," he said stiffly. "It's… unpleasant. I have been trying to find the time to do this for weeks and this would be a good opportunity."

"Of course, Severus," Hermione said, looking up at him. "Before or after my parents?"

If he was surprised, he didn't show it. "After," was all he said, offering her his arm again as they continued through London. The normal tourists milled around with cameras, some very lost. Londoners moved around them with impatience, glancing at them with haughtiness that comes with living in one of the greatest cities in the world.

Rita Skeeter's flat was in a modest part of London, not far from the Leaky Cauldron and the office of The Daily Prophet. They stopped two buildings over, where Severus handed Hermione a vial of Polyjuice. The hair had already been added- the potion was a sort of murky blue color. Very unappealing, but she drank it anyway, downing it without a protest.

"Lovely," she rasped. The Potions Master had chosen well- the person Hermione was transforming into was about the same size and weight as her- only a bit pudgier in the general waistline area. Her long hair shortened to about shoulder length and she grew perhaps a fraction of an inch.

He nodded at her. "Random Muggle. Not important who- but Skeeter should not be able to track her."

Hermione nodded. "Right. Good. I'll see you in a bit then." With a quick wave, she was walking to the building, nodding to the doorman, and slipping right inside.

Great, Severus thought. I'm playing look out now. I feel like an unmarked Death Eater again. No. What Hermione's asking me to do is not like that. She's doing this for Potter. For Dumbledore. For us.

The front lawn of Hermione's house was neatly kept, a slender white path leading to the house. It was around tea time- it took Dr. Granger almost a minute to answer the door.

"Hermione?" he asked, surprised. "I thought you were staying at your friend's house."

Brushing back her long hair, Hermione sighed. "I was, Dad. But I need to talk to you and Mum about something. Se- Professor Snape came to help me."

Frowning, her father let her and Severus through the door, leading them to the tea room. Hermione's mother was poised perfectly in her chair, sipping from a white china tea cup. Hermione wanted to scream- sometimes the Grangers were ridiculously formal for no apparent reason. It was a weekend, so they had the day off from the practice. Instead of relaxing around the house, Dr. Granger was wearing pearls and a skirt while the other Dr. Granger could have stepped in from a 'casual' dinner party.

"Hermione?" Helen Granger frowned at her daughter and her husband, setting down her tea and standing abruptly. "I thought you wouldn't be back until Christmas!" She looked both Hermione and Snape up and down, nose wrinkling at her daughter's jeans- there was no way she could fault the jacket, she had bought it for Hermione.

"I was. I thought I could stop by, though. It's okay, isn't it?" Hermione asked, tensing. There was no answer to why just talking to her mother put her on the defensive, but it did.

With a glance toward Snape, Hermione's mother nodded once sharply. "Of course, dear," she said with manufactured warmth. "Sit down. Take some tea."

Severus had to seriously restrain himself from sneering at the woman, but he sat down between Hermione and her father with a cup of tea. After the slightly stiff formalities were over with, he put his cup down and leaned forward.

"Dr. and Dr. Granger," he said, meeting both their eyes for a brief scan. Helen was dealing with the sense of unease that came from being around her daughter, and Matthew was wondering if this visit would mean postponing the trip to France. He finally gave in and sneered at them. "I am here because there is a grave danger in the Wizarding world."

The two dentists exchanged looks. "What kind of danger?" Matt asked warily. "Hermione's never said anything about it."

Snape could feel Hermione growing red next to him. "There never really seemed to be a good time to mention it," she tried weakly. "It's complicated, Dad."

"There is a wizard calling himself Lord Voldemort and he wishes to kill all wizards and witches with Muggle parents," Severus said bluntly. "Which includes your daughter. He also wants to kill Harry Potter, your daughter's best friend. In addition to that, Miss Granger and Mr. Potter were attacked by him last year, and escaped. He wants them both very dead. Because they are currently in a very well protected place, he'll settle for killing the two of you."

Helen's mouth opened, then shut again. Matt took a deep breath, and shook his head. "We're withdrawing you from that school immediately," said the man, glaring at Snape. "There's still that boarding school we were looking at before that letter came."

"That will not work," Snape said smoothly. "You can take the Hogwarts away from the witch, but you can never take the magic away."

Hermione spoke next, voice quiet. "I refuse to leave Hogwarts. Or Harry."

"It's not your decision, young lady!" her mother snapped. "If there is a dangerous man trying to kill you, then you need to leave!" Helen's hand rose to her pearls, and she looked over at her husband. "You should call the other school now, Matt."

Hermione looked her mother right in the eye. "I'm seventeen, Mum. I used a Time Turner to take extra classes- so technically, I'm an adult in the Wizarding world. You have no say in what I do."

"Then why are you even here?" countered her mother angrily. "You can't say that you're an adult- you're barely fifteen and by our standards, magic or not, you are still our daughter and you have to listen! And what've you got to do with this?" she rounded on Snape. "You're a teacher at that bloody school!"

Snape glared at her. "I'm here to help Miss Granger with a dangerous and complicated piece of magic."

"I came here, Mum, because I needed you to understand what I'm going to do," said Hermione, voice still quiet. "If we win, I'll come back for you. I promise." She met Snape's eye, then turned back to her mother, ignoring the woman's questions. "Stupefy," she whispered, hearing Severus do the same on her other side.

Her parents fell back, unconscious.

Hermione felt the burning at the back of her eyes, the difficulty swallowing, the sensation behind her nose all telling her she was going to cry any moment. She jumped when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked up, biting her lip to keep from crying.

"You told them why," Severus told her. His normally stern face had softened a fraction, which made Hermione feel even more like crying for some reason. "And you told them you would come back for them. You are protecting them. Saving their lives."

Hermione drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "But-" she said, hands flying to her face. "Severus-

He grasped her slender wrists and gently moved her hands away from her face. "I would not lie to you," he said slowly and deliberately, looking her in the eye. "If you need me to spell it out for you, I will. You are doing all that you can to protect those you love. Some might say it is ruthless, but sometimes you need to be ruthless to win a war. This is war, Hermione. And they can't handle it, but you can. The strong must protect the weak."

His velvety voice made her break down. To her complete surprise, she found herself with her head tucked into the crook of his shoulder and his neck, crying with high-pitched little sobs. She was clutching at the back of his turtleneck- it made her feel childish and that thought made her cry harder. Slowly, he brought his arms around her back and patted awkwardly.

As she inhaled in sharp short bursts, she slowly calmed down. His turtleneck smelled like him- wood smoke, parchment, and herbs, with something else underneath. It was comforting- and his arms around her made her feel something coiling in her belly, something she couldn't (wouldn't) name.

Finally, she drew away, wiping her eyes. "Sorry," she said hoarsely. "I- I'm sorry."

She couldn't read anything in his face. "Let us begin working," was all he said. "Gather what you want to keep. I'll start working on erasing their memories."

Her legs were a bit shaky when she stood, but she nodded to him stiffly and walked out of the room, winding through the halls of her childhood home to her bedroom. Its familiarity was enough to put a small smile on her face- the wooden floor and the light spilling in from the windows were sights she had seen nearly every day for almost twelve years. Her bed was neatly made, her bookshelves in order, her desk clear. The basket where her mother left the mail she received over the school year was empty save for one or two adverts and the light layer of dust on her shelves were the only signs that this room was rarely lived in.

She walked over to her book case, opening the small purse she had enchanted. Some books had stiff spines- but very few. Others were falling apart, the covers lovingly bound with tape. Some were no brainers for her bag- others she debated over for a moment or two before either adding it to the bag or leaving it on the shelf.

The small mementoes were easier- she only truly cared about a few. Her first Hogwarts letter, a picture of her, Ron, and Harry, a wooden hippogriff that Hagrid had carved her, the wooden flute she had never given back to Harry, the mirror that Penelope Clearwater had been holding, and a few pieces of jewelry that she had accumulated over the years. Clothes were also simple- the things that fit her and weren't strange colors went into the bag, and the items that were too small or rather ghastly shades of orange didn't.

Hermione left the room with a sad smile, hand resting on the door frame for a moment before she closed the door.

She stopped in her parent's room to gather her birth certificate and other official papers, her passport and a few pieces of jewelry-family heirlooms that came from both her mother's side and her fathers. Her parent's official papers- she would give them back after the war. A picture of her and her parents, and she was done packing for herself.

Next she readied two suitcases each for them, using her wand to pack swiftly and efficiently. The last thing to do was open the small safe under their bed- it contained enough cash to get them to Australia. Right before they went to the house, Hermione had transferred all their funds into several accounts before finally distributing them in one owned by Monica and Wendell Wilikins. The credit cards and passwords were already in a purse for Monica and wallet for Wendell. Everything was ready to go, and the house could be torched.

Hermione descended the stairs, suitcases floating behind her in a perfect line. Severus was bent over her father, looking into his eyes in an almost sensual way. It was intimate, what he was doing- going through every memory Matthew Granger had and changing his name, the details of his life, and erasing the fact that he had ever had a daughter.

She sat down on the sofa to wait, watching her father and the man who was helping her. All traces that she had ever cried on his shoulder had been Vanished from his now impeccable black turtleneck. His hands were on her father's temples, his eyes were focused on Matthew Granger.

For her, she had known this strange man for almost six years. Harry had hated him on sight- she had simply been curious. To the students at Hogwarts, Professor Snape was a man to be feared- at least when they were in his presence. In the privacy of their Common Rooms, or anywhere out of earshot, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike ridiculed him, insulted him, mocked him. No one thanked him for what was probably the best Potions education in Europe- Severus Snape was a Potions Master, the only one in Great Britain and one of the twenty in the world. Eight in the Americas, one in France, one in Russia, four in China, one each for Japan and Korea, three in Africa, and one in Australia. And he was teaching. Not giving selective apprenticeships, but teaching first years how to make burn potions.

And instead of being incredibly grateful and treating him like the genius he was, they moaned about how he wouldn't let them goof off in class- never mind that goofing off in Potions could be dangerous at the best of times and fatal at others. They took in his hooked nose (which wasn't any worse than Dumbledore's to be honest) and sallow skin, his acerbic sarcasm (yes, his social skills could do with improvements, but he was extraordinarily intelligent and most of the students at Hogwarts were egotistical idiots) and his greasy black hair (really! How would their hair look after spending day after day in the smoke and fumes of various poorly made student potions? It was really quite nice during the summer) and most of all his eyes- those eyes that looked into them and knew what they had done.

Personally, his eyes mesmerized her. So many called them black- named them so as a testament to the color of his soul. But they were grey- dark, dark grey, but grey nonetheless. Perhaps it was a comment on the soul after all- darkness with hope for redemption. His redemption. They would never know what he did for them.

They didn't see him when he returned from a Death Eaters Meeting. When his mind was clouded with pain and what he had done, even Severus Snape didn't notice a Disillusioned girl hidden behind the wall as he climbed the stairs. Sometimes he turned around, eyes searching for his watcher before he continued up. Sometimes he was merely tired- other times he walked with the slow pace of a man with broken ribs or spell injuries.

At other times, though, Professor Snape always moved with a swift, predatory grace. It was a commonly noticed fact at Hogwarts that his robes billowed, even without wind. Severus was really exceptionally graceful- everything about him. His voice- silky and dangerous or rough and absolutely terrifying. His hands, when he made potions. Hermione loved watching his hands on the rare occasions that he demonstrated for the class. He could chop perfectly even pieces with one hand, stir with the other, and still lecture. Even his name was sinuous- Severus. Severus Snape.

No one saw what a glorious, glorious man he was. For some reason, he risked his life to protect them every day. Every time he went in front of the Dark Lord, he was dancing with danger. One slip in his concentration, and the Dark Lord would know all and his life would end after days- or weeks- of torture. And no one knew. No one got to see that softer side of him, the side that was snarky but kind, the side that allowed an apology to shine out of those eyes when he couldn't say anything. The side that showed when he laughed, or that shone in his eyes when the two of them debated any number of subjects. The side that offered her books and conversation and- most surprisingly, a shoulder to cry on.

The side that came with her to rearrange her parent's memories so that they would be safe.

And the side that died a little every time he came back from carrying out the will of the Dark Lord with blood on his hands.

"Hermione," she heard, and suddenly she realized that Severus had finished and was looking at her. He had noticed her staring at him.

She ducked her head quickly, the hot flash of embarrassment coming once again. She fought the urge to apologize. "Yes?"

"I'm finished," he said. "You should go through their minds to make sure I haven't missed anything. If it wouldn't-"

"I'll be fine," Hermione said shortly. Quickly, she bent over her mother, and then her father. It made her more than slightly uneasy to see how easily she disappeared from their lives. With any other set of parents, a magical working like this would have taken several hours and more than one Master Legilimens.

She swallowed hard and stood up again. "I'm- you did a good job."

He nodded curtly. "Let's wake them up and let them leave for the airport. I implanted the suggestion in their mind- they'll leave as soon as they awake." Perhaps his eyes held a question- but he didn't ask and she wouldn't volunteer an answer.

She looked around the room quickly, memories swirling. "Okay," she said, closing her eyes for a moment then opening them again. "Why don't we go to your house then come back here to burn the place down?"

Severus nodded, then stalked to the door. He held it open for her- something she wasn't quite used to. She knew he always did it for her- it was just they didn't usually go through doors. She hesitated before stepping through.

"Go on," he murmured, then put a hand on the small of her back to guide her through. "They'll wake soon, Hermione."

She could feel the imprint of his hand long after he let it drop, closing the door firmly behind him. They walked a ways down the street, Hermione taking his offered arm without a word. It felt… strange. But right- strange, but right. He was taller than her, much taller, but looping her arm through his was comfortable. That fact that he did it at all was a testament not to his 'breeding' but to the society in which he found himself now. Wizards in the highest strata of pureblood society were supposed to be gentlemen, and most were until the moment they slid a white mask over their face.

When they reached a reasonable point to Apparate, they didn't separate, but he stopped to look down at her. "If you wish you may stay here. I won't be long."

"No," Hermione replied, looking up at him. "I want to see your house. And if it's anything like your rooms at Headquarters, there's bound to be some interesting books there."

He gave her a small sneer; she didn't take it personally, that was just Severus being Severus. "As you wish," he drawled. With a sharp turn on his heel, the two of them were being sucked through a narrow tube, compressed and stretched at the same time, before being spat out on the other end.

The neighborhood they arrived in was a dank mill town- Cokeworth, according to Severus. Hermione expected him to release her now that they were away from the hustle of London. Instead, he kept her close. Hermione didn't know if he realized he was doing it, but she followed even more closely than before. The river flowed sluggishly, an unpleasant smell rising from it. A chimney rose in the distance- it was from a mill that was as old and desolate as the town itself. A line of old rusty railing separated the narrow cobbled street they were on from the refuse-strewn bank of the river.

On the other side of the river, a bit further away, was a park. On the other side of the park were much nicer homes than the ones Severus and Hermione were currently passing. Those had peeling paint or broken front doors, windows that had faded curtains and small gardens that were overgrown with weeds or brown from drought.

Hermione kept quiet, reserving judgment for another time. Her eyes took in everything- every derelict siding and sagging porch. Soon they turned down a hidden alley onto an almost identical street- although these houses were slightly nicer. Even so, in the late afternoon light, Hermione could see that some of the streetlamps were broken and the old brick houses looked deserted. The sign of the street read 'Spinner's End.'

Severus seemed fixed on a point in the distance- eventually, she focused on it as well and was therefore unsurprised when they stopped at a bleak house- one of the only on the street with unbroken windows. It was easily the best house in the neighborhood- and the scariest, if Hermione's opinion was taken into account.

Severus released her to dig in his robes for a key, withdrawing it and slipping it into the keyhole without a word. The door was stiff- it took a bit of force to open with a groaning sound from the wood. He held it open and gestured her through. "Welcome to the… ancestral… home of the Snapes," he drawled sarcastically.

The interior was dark and musty, yet devoid of dust. Magic, Hermione decided. He's placed a stasis charm over everything. He flicked his wand behind her, and brackets of candles sputtered to life, illuminating the old fashioned sitting room.

The room was covered in bookcases, most bound with dark leather. Around the rickety wooden coffee table stood a threadbare sofa and an old, worn armchair. The natural light from the open door disappeared as Severus slammed it shut and moved into the light from the candles.

"I need to fetch some items from the second floor," he told her, eyes dark spots in his face. "You may stay here, or accompany me."

Hermione rested a hand on the back of the sofa. "May I look at the books?"

His mouth twisted into a sneer, but there was very little malice in it. "Hermione Granger- bookworm to the very, very last. The books down here are nothing of value- occasionally I receive visits from other Death Eaters. The good books are upstairs."

She grinned at him. "Then upstairs it is," she said warmly, walking over to his side. She looked around quickly, then frowned. "Where's the staircase?"

He looked down at her, expression inscrutable. Then he turned his head away and with a sharp movement of his hand, the book case in the center of the room flew out of the way to reveal a narrow staircase. "There. I will ascend first."

He was true to his word, climbing up the stairs without a sound. Hermione followed a few steps behind, a small shiver running through her at the tightness of the space. The gas lamps in the staircase allowed for some light, and Hermione concentrated at the form of her mentor before her. It wasn't long before they came to a door that opened on to the second floor.

"The Library is the second door on the left," he told her curtly. "Use common sense when deciding to open a book. Read the titles. If it doesn't have a title-"

"I'm not stupid, Severus," Hermione replied, a warning in her tone. "I know how to handle dangerous books. If it doesn't have a title that means that it has a reputation Dark enough to not need one and that makes it a bad choice for a little light reading."

He looked mildly taken aback, but he just sneered and stalked in the opposite direction. She scowled at his back and turned to march into the Library. Once inside, she sighed in relief. It was clearly the most cared for section of the house- the two study tables were sturdy and the two armchairs were plush- the small table behind them with an assortment of liquors suggested to Hermione that some amount of time was spent in this room with a tumbler full of mead or whiskey and a good book. Or good conversation- the both armchairs looked as if they were used frequently. She wondered who would come over to Severus' house-. She knew that he and Lucius Malfoy were friends and that he was Draco's godfather.

She walked over to one of the shelves, a smile coming over her face without her knowledge. This was where she was in her element- books, books, and perhaps a few more books. It wasn't long before she selected a slender tome on warding and curled up in one of the armchairs to read.

Whatever he was doing seemed to be taking longer than he expected- it was nearly two and a half hours before he returned, a hard scowl on his face. "Time to leave."

She sighed- the book was absolutely fascinating and she was close to finishing it. Apparently he noticed the regretful look she was giving the book, because his scowl softened. "You may bring it with you, if you wish," he said haltingly. "There is no copy of it at the Library, nor do I have an additional copy at the school. I found the last chapter… enlightening. It would be a shame to stop so close to the end."

She grinned up at him. "Thanks."

Instead of replying, he nodded stiffly. "Are you prepared to leave?"

"Yes," she said, standing and arching her back to stretch. "Did you get everything you needed?"

He started to answer, then paused. "No. This is my home, my father bought it shortly before I was born. When I came of age and the house moved into my possession, I put up every ward known to man and I did this to ensure that I always had a safe place to return to," he said gravely. "In case something should happen- run here. Be careful- there are some Death Eaters that know of the location of his house, including Lucius Malfoy." She had been right.

"So disguise myself and use a Concealment Charm," Hermione said, just as seriously. "And should you need me to come here?"

He held out his hand. "Arm?" She held it out, shaking back her sleeve so that the watch he had given her years ago was visible. She had taken exceptionally good care of it- it was hardly tarnished. She had been pleasantly surprised when she had discovered it was made of real silver, and so her care for it had increased.

The slim fingers that wrapped around her wrist to hold it steady were warm. Swiftly, he tapped the watch, murmuring something she couldn't quite catch for a long time. A new image slowly appeared on the third face- a spider's web. "This one is for here- Spinner's End," he told her carefully. "Just in case. In the past, Lucius has… deposited me… here after I have come face to face with the Dark Lord's… displeasure. If there is something important, then you may need to make a report for me."

"Of course," Hermione said gently, as gently as she dared. "If you ne-" she stopped herself. Severus Snape was not a man who asked for the help of others- he was a proud man. "I'm here, Severus."

He raised an eyebrow, and she looked him straight in the eye, telling him what she couldn't tell him in words. Finally, he nodded. "Let's go."

They walked out of the house in silence, and he Apparated them from the living room rather than walk down to the Apparation point again. The walk to her house was quick, but Severus measured his strides to hers.

They waited until the sun was low in the sky to set fire to the house.

Severus didn't say anything when the first tear escaped- but she could feel the shifting of his muscles where her hand rested on his arm, and it comforted her in some unfathomable way. By the time the authorities arrived, her face was dry.

And so ends Chapter 11.

A bit of a sadder, denser chapter, no? Some more history concerning Hermione's parents and a premature vacation to Australia. A bit of a consideration of Hermione's own feelings for Severus. An introduction to Spinner's End, which will come in handy later.

In other news, HOLY COW SCHOOL HAS STARTED AND I AM DYING. And there was a mix-up with my college course which was awful and I need to redo it and it was all my fault because I was an idiot so I felt very stupid and young for... well, I still feel that way. But today my lovely cousin arrives from France with some other family and we are going on vacation! I can't wait to see her (it's been two years or so) and so I'm very happy. And stressed. But hopefully this trip will be a de-stresser, if only for a weekend. And in other news, I'm turning seventeen this week! Hurray!

Reviews are always welcomed and adored fully.

The amazing loneliesttimeline made MORE FANART for this story. (It is beautiful and Severus' face is perfect) and the link can be found in the author's page next to the first one. :)

And... just because you all are awesome... have a little sentence from the next chapter.

"I'm glad my near death was a valuable educational experience, Hermione," Severus said wryly, some of the negative emotions dissipating. "Have you prepared something to eat?"

Let me know if small excerpts are an acceptable compromise for two week breaks between updates! Next update will be on the twenty-third.