Hello, all.

Thank you to the astonishing number of people who reviewed (62). Hopefully this wasn't just a result of me threatening to withhold a chapter? (To the people who were upset about this- a reminder that I do this in my spare time and all I ask for is a little bit of feedback. I owe nothing to anyone and I do this because I enjoy fanfiction and I enjoy sharing with readers.)

Something that was frequently requested that I suppose I'll start doing now is recaps of what's happened so far. So:

So: In the last couple of chapters, Hermione, Ron, and Harry have returned to school for their fifth year, started the DA (with covert help from Severus) and attended Defense classes and detention with Umbridge. Rita Skeeter is being efficiently blackmailed and put to use. Hermione is working hard for the Order, and she had been working with Severus to distribute information to the Order. However, those efforts were hindered by Severus and Hermione's growing attraction to each other, which culminated in a kiss in mid-November. Weeks pass without the two talking to each other (apart from an angsty meeting in the practice room) until Arther Weasley is bitten by Nagini. Hermione delivers the antivenin, only to be chastised by Dumbledore for leaving Harry. As a punishment she is made to wait for Severus in the cold- which, with her stress and inconvenient cold, make her very vulnerable to Severus' instinctive reaction to being startled, which is to curse (with a wand, not necessarily with words). He carries her (aww) to his rooms, in which they talk. Hermione leaves the next day for Grimmauld Place to join Harry and the Weasleys, and to get Harry out of his funk. Which is where we left off last time.

And now...

Chapter 24

Hermione rose early on Christmas morning, uncertainty worrying at her chest. There was already a pile of gifts at the base of her bed, the wrapping paper reflecting dully in the sole light of her wand.

Should I give him the gift?

She turned it over in her hand. It wasn't anything terribly important or valuable. Just a chain. A new chain for his pocket watch. Hermione had spelled it herself, charming it to outlast fire, spells, and any form of tool. No one would be able to take the watch from him, if this was what was keeping it attached.

Decision made, she closed her eyes and concentrated on wordlessly creating a box for the chain. From there it was easy to charm a bow to the top. A glance over at Ginny showed that the redhead had not stirred.

Cold feet on the bare floor sent a reverberating ache up her legs. She moved stiffly in the night, the ache from her back injury aggravated by the temperature. I'm a teenager and already I have war injuries. I wonder how Severus even gets out of bed in the mornings. He's kind of broken, more broken than me, anyway.

She didn't know if he'd be in his room in Grimmauld Place. Chances were he would be at Malfoy Manner of Spinner's end. But she could leave it in there for him, for the next time he stopped by. Or perhaps a house elf would take it to him.

The house creaked as she moved through silent halls. Except- the door opening.

"I will warn you now, portrait, make one sound and I will use the darkest curses I know to permanently stitch your mouth shut," a cold voice said in a harsh whisper.

Severus.

Hermione nearly ran, racing to catch him before he left again. A sliver of light opened into the hallway, then narrowed again as he shut the kitchen door.

She hesitated before opening it. Things were still not quite right between them. The sodden conversation in his rooms had felt eerily familiar. Not exactly so- more like seeing an old bedroom in a dream, a setting that was familiar but off because the details were missing.

The opening of the door surprised him. A wand was pointed at her before she had two feet in the room. She met his eyes steadily, moving slowly as she stepped fully inside and shut the door behind her again. "It's just me, Severus."

He glared at her, and in one fluid movement sheathed his wand. "You should be sleeping."

"I could say the same of you," answered Hermione.

Silence fell. Hermione became aware of the chill of the ground seeping into her skin, of the dim light of the kitchen and the tension on Severus' face.

"Merry Christmas," she said after a moment.

He nodded jerkily. "Merry Christmas."

In order to forestall the quiet she knew was coming, Hermione shifted and spoke. "I have something for you." It was early enough the the sky outside was still dark, dark enough that it still felt like deepest night. Her words felt like a confession instead of a statement. Either way, she was offering something of herself to him and Severus understood that.

Hermione held out the package, watching him as he reached for it slowly. Long white fingers delicately plucked the parcel from her grasp, dexterous enough to avoid brushing her skin. She shivered anyway.

Ripping the paper in a few deft movements, the sound loud in the quiet room, Severus opened his gift. The line of his neck was rigid, his face set in a carefully neutral expression. There was a quiet chinking sound as the links of the chain brushed against each other as he lifted it from the paper.

The metal shimmered in the light from the fire, the reflected light obscuring the coloring of the metal. He examined it, tilting his head a fraction to the side.

"It's a watch chain," she said needlessly. "For your pocket watch."

"I know what a watch chain does," Severus said wryly. "But I have an inkling concerning this particular chain."

Her brow furrowed. "You shouldn't be able to sense the magic," said the witch. "I hid everything I did to it under layers of deception runes."

A flicker of amusement twitched on his lips, then disappeared. "Of course you did."

"Then how did you know?" she asked, a bit put out.

His eyes caught hers, holding them with easy gravitas. "You wouldn't just give me a chain for my watch. You would want to make it special."

She had no compunctions about allowing a thin spreading of her lips. "You know me so well."

It came out jaded, bitter. She hadn't meant for it to sound that way.

There was a harshness to the hand that held the chain now. He tucked it into his coat, the chain disappearing into a pocket. "Don't lie to yourself. It is my business to read people."

"So you've just been reading me, then?" The heat of anger, when normally Hermione tried to keep a cool head, seemed to rise in her belly all to often when she was around Severus. "I'm not a silly child who believes it every time someone tells them they're special. I use reason, I keep my senses. I know I'm not anything too- too brilliant or unique." Her words weren't clipped anymore, they were blending together. "But I thought that you of all people would recognize that-" Tears would be bad. She wanted to appear strong in front of him, but every time they met he wrought emotion in her so powerful it needed to spill from her body in some way. "I know I'm nothing special to you."

"Don't say that." The usually dulcet tones were strained. Severus appeared to be in some sort of distress, that Hermione could see despite the lack of change in his posture or expression. She folded her arms in front of herself.

"Why shouldn't I?" she said, squeezing herself hard. "It's your business to read people. I just another person-"

"You aren't," he told her, desperation evident in the distance he crossed to stand even closer to her.

Standing this close to him, close enough to smell the night snow and the dampness of his woolen cloak, was overwhelming. Hermione took a step back, which made the edge of the counter hit the small of her back. She winced at the ache that it caused.

I'm not just another person to him, he says. Three months ago she would have taken it as meaning that she was special. But now, today, after the culmination of everything that had transpired since their kiss...

Hermione closed her eyes, refusing to look at him. She knew that her eyes were begging him to say something different, to tell her that she was special to him, that she meant something.

Look at the larger picture, her rational self demanded. He's here in the middle of the night. Something must have happened to bring him here in the middle of a snowstorm. Stop this childish dithering about your precious feelings and find out what it is.

She took in a shaky breath, steadying herself. "I'm sorry." She opened her eyes. "There must be a reason you are here in the middle of the night. Forget this. What happened?"

What she said flustered him; he looked away from her for the first time. Even so, he didn't take a step back. "No reason."

He doesn't want to tell me. Once he told me everything... and now... no. That might have cut more deeply than anything else.

"You can't tell me?" she asked, hating how her voice was climbing higher and higher. "I- I'm sorry. I'll leave now-"

She tried to move away from the counter, but was blocking her path. The tears were building again behind her eyes, and she closed them as she attempted to circle him.

Severus reached out, large hands capturing her shoulders. "Wait," he said, his own voice cracking.

"Why?" Hermione asked, voice thin and reedy. "I'm not even a person to you, and-"

"I came here because I wanted to leave you a gift," Severus said quickly, harshly. It seemed that he was refusing to give into embarrassment. Instead his eyes were intense and his voice smooth again. "I didn't want you to see me. I just wanted to leave you something."

Thought paused in Hermione's mind. He wanted to give me something for Christmas. He doesn't give Christmas gifts to anyone, he hates the holidays, he- but he was going to give me something.

She didn't know what to say, so she just looked at him with wide eyes. He sighed, and she felt his breath of her face. His hands were still holding her in place, the long fingers warm through the thin material of her pajamas. His thumbs were rubbing her arm lightly, seemingly without his knowledge.

"You are more than just a person to me, Hermione," he murmured. That voice pulled something from her, drawing a yearning from her very bones.

The heat from his body was tempting her in the cold of the kitchen. The fire in the corner was not helping the chill of the house. She was drawn to it, leaning into him. "Then what am I?"

Her head was lifted and tilted slightly to the side. She could feel his arms leaving her shoulders and upper arms to circle her body. It was achingly slow this time, as he pressed her to him deliberately, then gently lowered his lips to hers. Their first kiss had been a brush, the second a devouring. This kiss was firm, knowing. He wasn't gentle or soft, he didn't caress her lips sweetly.

Instead he suckled her lower lip into his mouth, biting down lightly before opening his mouth wider and urging her to do the same. The last time she had not been aware of anything, just the sensation of being consumed. This time she was aware of each movement, of the most ephemeral detail. The sliding of his mouth across hers, the supple warmth of his tongue, the scratchy feel of his outer coat and the callused tips of his fingers brushing across her skin as her shirt lifted and they brushed her waist.

The last time had been a blur of movement and of lips and teeth and tongue. Now that he was kissing her slowly, not turning her head with lust, she didn't know what to do, where to put her hands. She just let herself be kissed, mimicking his movements as best she could.

She liked the taste of his mouth, the sure way he held her, the intensity she could feel in his carefully controlled movements. Something told her that his holding back was not out of lack of passion. It was that if he didn't hold himself back, it would become like last time, when both their blood ran hot and she had been left aroused and bruised.

A moment later he was pulling away, loosening his grip on her.

"That wasn't an answer," whispered Hermione. The confusion that had disappeared with his lips on hers was sinking back in. He kisses me one time and then we don't talk for weeks. And now? What happens now?

His grey eyes- she was close enough to see their true color, the flecks of light and dark in the smoky circle of his iris- were serious. "I know."

She closed her eyes, and laid her head on his chest. Severus stiffened, but the arms around her held her closer. "Then what was it?" His chest was warm, and the scent of herbs and books and potions was enveloping that close. The thump of his heart was right under her ear.

"I don't know," he admitted. The rumble of his voice sunk to her bones.

"Don't say that," she told him, willing herself still not to cry. At least this was better than being pushed away, than stumbling through the halls of Hogwarts with a heavy mouth and a heavier heart.

The sensation of him pressing a kiss to the top of her head made the first tear leak. "It wasn't a promise of anything. We can't do this."

"Then why did you kiss me?" Hermione demanded, still clinging to him. Another tear fell down her exposed cheek, leaving a trail of cold. "Why did you do it, you- you bastard?" Her breath caught, and she knew he felt it.

The rumble was back, lower. "Because I wanted to," he said roughly. "You underestimate my self control."

He wants me, Hermione thought, half giddy and half miserable. He wants me.

"Then don't have any," she suggested.

He chuckled. "I can't afford that."

They were quiet. Hermione listened to the beating of his heart, matching her breathing to his in order to calm herself down. The quiet resignation was spreading again in her chest. He told me in the practice room that it was dangerous for him for us to do... this. Whatever this is. I don't want him hurt because of me.

"Are you okay?" she asked suddenly. "He wasn't- he wasn't mad at you? He didn't hurt you?"

Severus pulled away from her, the warmth in him gone. "No. He's is consumed with preparation for the breakout." The malignant thought of the Dark Lord slid in between them.

"We need to talk about this," Hermione said after a moment, cursing herself for ruining whatever kind of moment they were having. "Somewhere that isn't the kitchen of Headquarters."

"Agreed." Severus gave her the kind of half smirk that had more sincerity than a smile because it was telling her what he really felt.

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself again, missing his warmth. "Molly will be waking up soon to cook breakfast. She's been sneaking Arthur food."

Severus drew his cloak around himself. "Very well. We can talk at Hogwarts. I'll send you a report of the Dark Lord's planning. Decide what would be best for the old goat to see and send it back to me. I'll give it to him at Hogwarts."

"Of course," she answered. "Will you be stopping by here?"

"Perhaps," said Severus. "If Dumbledore orders me to."

The awkwardness was back in the air. It came from the lack of things to say; usually, Hermione and Severus operated around and with each other, not necessarily needing words to communicate. Now it felt as if the ease with which they had understood each other was gone, as if something irreversible had changed. It had been like two puzzle pieces before, slotting into one another perfectly, and now it was if the edges had changed minutely, and no matter how hard they tried the pieces wouldn't fit together.

What was she supposed to say? See you later? Bye? Would opening her mouth again even have a purpose?

"I guess-" she tried to say, and stopped.

I don't know what to say, she thought helplessly, looking at him, trying to tell him without words.

And then something clicked again, comprehension and determination flitting across his eyes and through his body. He stepped forward again, one hand going to her face to hold her chin in place as he pressed a firm, close mouthed kiss to her own lips. His other hand found hers, pressing a small packet into her palm and folding her fingers around it.

Her eyes were open as he kissed her, meeting his. She wanted desperately to slip into his mind, but the steely grey of his eyes told her it would not be wise. A moment later he pulled away and turned on his heel, crossing the kitchen in two brief strides as the door opened for him. He was gone before Hermione blinked.

In her hand was a velvet drawstring bag. She stroked the softness with her thumb, a wry smile coming to her face. I wonder what it is. Knowing Severus, it's something practical. Like poison.

She opened it, tipping the bag to spill its contents into her hand. Instead of the small vial she had been anticipating, a length of chain and a stone she didn't immediately identify slithered into her hand. As Severus had done, she held it up to the light. It was a short necklace, made so that the stone would rest in the hollow of her throat. It was a pearl, not perfectly round or iridescent.

Pearls. Good for holding or storing magic. Less noticeable than opals, better conductors of magic for women than men. Strengthens a woman's magic at the full moon. Known for ideals of feminine beauty, traditionally a gift for a young woman. Not as rare as diamonds, not as powerful as rubies. Gentle magics, storing magics. Signs of affection. A- a lover's token.

With shaking fingers, she clasped the necklace around her neck. As she had thought, the pearl rested in the hollow of her throat, cold against her skin. The chain was thin, finer than the chain that held her Time-Turner and the key to Severus' rooms. She was hyper aware of it against her skin, even as it warmed to her body temperature.

Last time he included a note.

Hermione checked, but there was no crinkle of paper in the velvet bag. Above her head she could here the creaking of the stairs. She sighed; Molly Weasley was awake and soon the rest of the house would be too. She needed to get back in her bed before Ginny suspected anything.

Silently, she crept out of the kitchen and through the darkened house, slipping into the drawing room as she waited for Molly to enter the kitchen. When she saw the flash of light under the door disappear, she made her way back up the stairs, keeping to the edges to avoid creaks.

Even as she tucked herself back under the heavy duvet, Hermione knew she wouldn't go back to sleep. She had too much to think about, including a way to explain the necklace.

My parents, she decided finally. It would look strange if they didn't send me a gift, and it's a common thing for parents to give their daughters jewelry.

The trip back from St. Mungo's set Hermione's head into an even deeper whirl. The car that Mundungus had stolen was cramped, so she was jammed between a window and Harry's bony hip and elbow. Her free hand rose to toy with the pearl on her necklace, a habit that she noticed sheepishly that she was already developing.

The first thing that alarmed her was Mr. Weasley's health. Severus had given his precious antivenin to the man, and still he was not healing properly. If the bigoted Healers of St. Mungo's- a bit notorious for being extremely dismissive of Muggle remedies- were trying stitches on Arthur Weasley, something was very wrong with his wound.

And secondly, the closed ward. That Lockhart was still there (literally, definitely not figuratively) was a bit comforting. She didn't want any more news of Harry's escapades in the Chamber of Secrets to spread. That Boderick Bode was still insensate was concerning. He had to have information or else the Death Eaters wouldn't have even bothered trying to mess with his mind. At least the Healer said that he was getting better.

Finally, Neville's parents. The sight of Alice Longbottom shuffling toward her son to give him a candy wrapper had brought tears to Hermione's eyes. The consequences of war, shown plainly with a still living mother and her son. She had known about the crime that had sent Bellatrix Lestrange to Azkaban, but she had never really connected it in any way with the plump and accident prone boy she knew.

Bellatrix Lestrange would be breaking out of Azkaban in weeks. And Neville would have to deal with that. There was little she or Severus could do about the plans to rescue the Dark Lord's most trusted followers from Azkaban without revealing to the Dark Lord that one of his most trusted Inner Circle was a spy. And of course, he already knew that Severus whispered in Dumbledore's ear. He wouldn't bother looking farther than the most obvious choice. All they could do was tell Kingsley to make sure that the Auror department was overly staffed the night of the breakout and warn him that something would happen.

But something else was unsettling her, something that she had briefly noticed and then dismissed in the closed ward. There was a niggling feeling that something was wrong, but she couldn't quite place what it was.

Maybe it was that Mrs. Longbottom had known her name? She hadn't been aware that Neville wrote home about her that often. It made her feel even worse about what was to come.

Perhaps something about Bode? Or Alice, the barking woman?

It was escaping her now. With a sigh, Hermione turned back to the conversation in the car. It would come to her sooner or later.

The last day of break before term started was accompanied with a distinctly sullen feeling. The children who were still in Hogwarts were dreading their return to Umbridge's dictatorial regime, Sirius and Molly were dreading their empty houses, and Hermione was dreading the breakout.

As as result, everyone was huddled together in the warmth of Harry and Ron's shared room, which had the best fireplace. Hermione clutched a curious Crookshanks in her lap, keeping her cat from lunging at the chessboard. The moving pieces were too much for the feline, who felt the need to attack the stone chess set every time Harry and Ron played.

A knocking at the door interrupted Harry's first victory of the game. Molly Weasley, completely out of breath and red-faced, opened the door.

"Hello, dears. Harry, Hermione, Professor Snape wants to see you in the kitchen."

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. "Professor Snape?" Hermione asked. "What's he doing here?"

Molly shrugged. "I'm not sure, dear. But you and Harry had best hurry down. The Professor said that he hasn't got much time, and he and Sirius are alone in the kitchen. I'm worried about my pepper pots."

There seemed to be no hope for it. Hermione handed Ginny a yowling Crookshanks, then followed Harry out of the room. The two of them walked down the stars.

Although the question of what, exactly, Severus wanted with her and Harry was niggling at Hermione's mind, the more selfish part of her was worried about how she would act in front of him. She had through that she was capable of keeping her fluttering heart hidden under a cool exterior, but the last time she had been in his presence that plan hadn't even had the chance to work.

She allowed Harry to open the door to the kitchen for her, walking into the kitchen. Sirius and Severus were sitting at opposite ends of the table, resolutely looking away from one another. With a sinking feeling, Hermione recognized the muscle working at Severus' jaw, and the glint of malice on his face. When he saw the two of them, he stood.

"Sit down, Potter, Miss Granger." He yanked out a chair irritatedly, crossing his arms as he glared at them.

"You know," said Sirius loudly, leaning back on his rear chair legs and speaking to the ceiling, "I think I'd prefer it if you didn't give orders here, Snape. It's my house, you see." Immature, Hermione thought immediately, taking the chair Severus had pulled out. As soon as she was seated, Severus was again too.

An ugly flush suffused Snape's pallid face. Harry sat down in a chair beside Sirius, facing Snape across the table.

"I was supposed to see you alone with Miss Granger, Potter," said Snape, the familiar sneer curling his mouth, "but Black -"

"I'm his godfather," said Sirius, louder than ever. He glanced over at Hermione. "And Hermione knows that I'd look out for her best interests."

"I am here on Dumbledore's orders," said Snape, whose voice, by contrast, was becoming more and more quietly waspish, "but by all means stay, Black, I know you like to feel… involved."

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Sirius, letting his chair fall back on to all four legs with a loud bang. Hermione winced. Stop, Severus. That's just rubbing it in. That's cruel.

"Merely that I am sure you must feel - ah - frustrated by the fact that you can do nothing useful," Snape laid a delicate stress on the word, "for the Order." Had I forgotten that he can be bloody mean sometimes?

It was Sirius's turn to flush. Snape's lip curled in triumph as he turned to Harry.

"The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term." Realization came over Hermione. Yes, the Headmaster had mentioned this. Now that she knew the purpose of the visit, she could relax a bit.

"Study what?" said Harry blankly.

Snape's sneer became more pronounced.

"Occlumency, Potter. The magical Defense of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one."

Harry's looked around nervously, not making eye contact with Hermione or Severus as his hands clenched on the seat of his chair. Hermione laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"Why do I have to study Occlu — thing?" he blurted out.

"Because the Headmaster thinks it a good idea," said Snape smoothly. "You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. You understand?"

"Yes," said Harry. "Who's going to be teaching me?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I am," he said. "Miss Granger will be assisting."

Hermione schooled her expression into one of shock. "Me?"

"Why can't Dumbledore teach Harry?" asked Sirius aggressively. "Why you and a classmate?"

"I suppose because it is a Headmaster's privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks," said Snape silkily. "I assure you I did not beg for the job." He got to his feet. "I will expect you at six o'clock on Monday evening, Potter. My office. If anybody asks, you are taking remedial Potions. Nobody who has seen you in my classes could deny you need them. Miss Granger, you asked to tag along for extra credit. Given your swotish qualities, not one will doubt that you leapt at the chance to get more points."

His eyes, cold in his tight Professor Snape persona, were cold as they met Hermione's. She looked away, cowed and a bit embarrassed.

He turned to leave, his black traveling cloak billowing behind him.

"Wait a moment," said Sirius, sitting up straighter in his chair.

Snape turned back to face them, sneering. "I am in rather a hurry, Black. Unlike you, I do not have unlimited leisure time."

"I'll get to the point, then," said Sirius, standing up. He was rather shorter than Snape who, Harry noticed, balled his fist in the pocket of his cloak over what Harry was sure was the handle of his wand. "If I hear you're using these Occlumency lessons to give Harry a hard time, you'll have me to answer to."

"How touching," Snape sneered. "But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?"

"Yes, I have," said Sirius proudly.

"Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him," Snape said sleekly.

Sirius pushed his chair roughly aside and strode around the table towards Snape, pulling out his wand as he went. Snape whipped out his own. They were squaring up to each other, Sirius looking livid, Snape calculating, his eyes darting from Sirius's wand-tip to his face. Hermione's heart leapt to her throat, and as her hands fluttered uselessly, her mind speed ahead.

There were two threats to Harry in the room; both of them were pointed at each other. Harry would get hurt only if he tried to interfere, or if the two idiotic men actually shot a spell with the possibility of rebound of bad aim present. She could either try to diffuse the situation, or get Harry out, and the second didn't seem to be an option.

"Sirius!" said Harry loudly, but Sirius appeared not to hear him. Hermione dragged him back, toward the door.

"I've warned you, Snivellus," said Sirius, his face barely a foot from Snape's, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better -" That must have been their nickname for him at school, the giant bully. Hermione knew her thoughts were unfairly biased, but the tension that fizzled in Severus' body at the name made her rage ignite.

"Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" whispered Snape. "Or are you afraid he might not take very seriously the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months?"

"Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?"

"Speaking of dogs," said Snape softly, "did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognized you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform… gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?"

Sirius raised his wand.

"NO!" Harry yelled, ripping out of Hermione's grasp, vaulting over the table and trying to get in between them. "Sirius, don't!"

"Are you calling me a coward?" roared Sirius, trying to push Harry out of the way, but Harry would not budge. Hermione ran to Snape, but paused, hesitant to touch him.

"Why, yes, I suppose I am," said Snape. His wand arm twitched, and Hermione swung in front of him, shielding Harry from the Potions Master with her own body. The fear that passed over Severus' face in the space of an instant scared her. The fear was gone, and rage replaced it.

"Silly girl-" he hissed. "Do you want to get cursed?"

"Harry - get - out - of - it!" snarled Sirius, pushing him aside with his free hand.

Hermione let out a high pitched growl of frustration. "Put down your wands, both of you!" she shouted. "Harry, go over there." She pointed and glared. "Now," she snapped.

"I don't-"

"I don't care," Hermione hissed. "Get. Over. There. Now!" When he still hesitated, she raised an eyebrow.

Sirius looked taken aback that she would talk to Harry that way, but he held his tongue and nodded when Harry looked to him. With a murderous glare at both of them, Harry backed away.

Hermione let out a relieved breath. "Good," she said. "Now, both of you, lower your wands."

Neither man moved. Hermione looked speculatively at Sirius, then at Severus. Odd as it might seem to Harry, it seemed that she would have a better chance with Severus. She steeled herself, then laid a hand on the older man's arm.

The muscle beneath her hand was iron hard with tension, the wand remaining perfectly still. Hermione put a slight pressure on his forearm, looking up into his face. "Se- Professor Snape."

A second more, and he wrested his arm from her light grasp and sheathed his wand. "Six o'clock, Monday, Potter. Miss Granger, come see me before then."

He swept out the door with a swirl of his black cloak. There was a rush of cold air and snow- then the door slammed shut and Severus was gone.

Mr. Weasley's return an hour later did not do much to lighten the over all mood of the house. Sirius was moody and brooding, Harry was upset with Hermione over both the lessons and the altercation in the kitchen, and Hermione herself was more than a bit irritated.

The first one she had to speak with was Sirius. She cornered the lonely man in the library, where he had disappeared to before dinner.

He was glaring at a painting stuck to the wall, one of the ones they had been unable to remove. For the most part, this one was not troublesome. At least, it had never made rude comments to Hermione within her earshot.

"Are you going to stew in here until dinner?" she asked nonchalantly. "Or are you actually going to spend time with your godson?"

As Sirius turned to face her, Hermione dropped her Glamour. She noted the change in Sirius- his eyes left her face for a brief instant before returning to meet hers.

"Not thirteen and a pain in the arse any more, are you?" he asked grimly. "Dumbledore plan that too?"

Hermione smiled sweetly, leaning against a set of bookshelves. "I'm eighteen but I'm still a pain in the arse. And yeah, he did. But he did it with Harry's best interests at heart." At the look of rage that passed over Sirius face, Hermione shrugged. "Or at least the best interests of Wizarding England," she hedged.

"I'm worried about him," Sirius said bluntly.

Hermione's hand drifted toward her neck to fiddle with her necklace. "Dumbledore or Harry?"

Sirius swore lightly. "Both, now that you mention it," he said after he was finished. "Harry because of Dumbledore. Is he crazy, putting him to Occlumency lessons with Snape?"

Her immediate reaction was to bristle at the insult to Snape. A trickle of dread ran down Hermione's spine. "No," she said firmly. "Again, general good intentions. Severus Snape is the best Occlumens in the Order. Better than Dumbledore."

Sirius was regarding her with his quicksilver eyes. His were grey too, Hermione noticed, although Severus' eyes were much darker. The eyes of Harry's godfather were no less intense, however. "Better than you?"

"Me?" Hermione asked in mock surprise. "But I'm just your average fifth year." At Sirius' snort, she sighed. "Fine. Slightly above average. Hardly anything to fret over."

Sirius folded his arms, unimpressed. "You should teach him," he told her. "You aren't Dumbledore but you've got to be good if the Order trusts you with as much as they do."

"I'm an Inner Circle member, same as you," Hermione said carefully. "Nothing more, nothing less."

"And if I was probing your mind right now, I'm sure that would be exactly what I'd see," said Sirius. The tension was still present in his neck, at his jaw. "You think that after a year of having you in class, Remus doesn't recognize your handwriting on two thirds of the reports that we get on Death Eater movements and spy reports?" He cocked his head. Leaning against a bookcase of his own, long legs sprawled before him with the effortless grace of the aristocracy, Sirius was the picture of a cocky young thing. But there was something off about it all. Although he held himself with grace and his face was much changed from the skeleton that had attacked her in her third year, Sirius still held traces of the wildness and mind numbing fear of Azkaban.

Her first instinct was to freeze like a startled deer, to panic. Hermione quelled her fear, pushing it down in her mind and out of sight. He's canny. Use the truth, he'd feel a lie. "I have exceptional handwriting. The Headmaster likes me to copy some reports-"

"Don't bullshit me, Hermione," said Sirius roughly, angrily. "You're more important that you, or Snape, or Dumbledore lets on. And you are the Order member closest to Harry."

Well then. She stood up straight and started moving toward Sirius. "Perhaps. Either way, I know that Harry needs you right now and you are here, talking with me in a library." When Sirius' face didn't soften, Hermione sighed. "I'll be at all the lessons. I'll look out for him, okay?"

Sirius examined her for a long moment. "I was blinded," he said after a moment.

"Sorry?" Hermione asked. The softness of his tone, the sudden guilt on his features, the way his eyes focused completely on hers disarmed her.

The corner of his mouth twisted up in a wry smile. "Dumbledore told me that we were training you to protect Harry and I never even considered it before saying yes. I was thinking of Harry, and not of you."

"By the time you came into the picture I was already what I am," Hermione told him. Unease was creeping across her skin.

"That's no excuse," Sirius murmured. "We- all of us adults who should have known better- have no excuse. You should be like them."

"I don't want to be like them," Hermione snapped. "I'm doing something none of you could have done. You need someone to be with him constantly, you need someone to guard his back, to do whatever is necessary."

That wry smile was mocking her. "And you think that I wouldn't give up anything for my godson?" asked Sirius. "For James' boy? For Lily's son?"

Bitterness rose in Hermione. "That's exactly why," she said waspishly. "You still think that Harry is James. You do what you do for his parents. You don't know Harry himself. I do what I do- what I've done- for Harry. Not because of some twisted regret or love of his parents, but because I know Harry and I would do anything for him and not for some image of him."

The two of them- guardian and guardian- stood there for a moment longer, each refusing to look away.

"Go to your godson," Hermione said at last, turning away with a haughty air, giving Sirius the clear message that she had looked and found him wanting. "I'll talk to him later."

So ends Chapter 24.

To be quite honest, it's been a crap fortnight. Financial aid forms are a nightmare, I don't know how I'm going to pay for college, and work and school have decided to come down on me all at one time. (Speaking of school, several of you were surprised I was in high school- well, yes. For 4 more months at least.) So I'm stressing and bitchy and panicky. So. This chapter is going out at a good time, I suppose.

Thanks to those who wished me luck on the IOC- I ended up getting Keats (which was the worst choice, but not a bad worst choice as choices go) and getting the highest grade in the class. I'm glad, because English is my strong point. Next up is my French Oral- for which I am significantly less prepared. So everyone who wants to leave a review in their native French, I beg you go ahead.

An excerpt:

The power of words was not new to Hermione; she knew well that often the right word could provoke or calm or move someone to tears. But she had not expected this, the rage and fury that took Severus' face as soon a she said the word 'coward.'

So. Expect something very juicy next chapter. On the 28th, if there is time. I'll have family over! (this rarely happens) My cousin and his fiancee are visiting from France and I AM SO EXCITED.

Reviews (as many as last week? It was wonderful and I read and appreciated every one of them) are always welcome, here or on tumblr. Thank you for reading!