Hello, dear readers!

Well, Spring Break allowed me to write Chapters 30 AND 31 and a good portion of 32. So I'm updating on schedule! Yay! Reviews weren't great, though. Only half as much as the last chapter. :(

And that oneshot is up, if you'd like to read it. Warning: Extreme Fluff.

Enjoy the chapter! Keep your wits about you- massive time jumps. :)

Chapter Summary: Severus is a massive dick during the Occlumency lessons with Harry but Hermione tries to smooth it over. He is also being a sexy bastard, so she forgives him quickly. Also, Severus is slightly injured because Bellatrix is mean and Hermione comes to help heal him. They talk a bit about the Azkaban breakout, and Hermione leaves.

Chapter 27

The next day was an outbreak of panic that was more discernible in the staff than in the students. The smaller children- the first through fourth years- didn't quite understand what was going on. The older ones, though, they knew, or their families knew, what one Death Eater, let alone ten, could do.

But the teachers were the ones who were scared.

Hermione knew that at least three members of staff had lost their families to Death Eaters, McGongall included. The Scottish woman's children had died at the hands of Grindelwald's followers; her husband, to Voldemort's. Professor Sprout's sister had been killed by Dolohov. The Astronomy Professor had lost her own parents to the Lestrange brothers.

The atmosphere of Hogwarts in the weeks following the break out from Azkaban was heavy. The number of Educational Decrees rose. Umbridge began to observe all the Care of Magical Creatures classes, all of the Divination classes.

Hermione and Severus moved around each other cautiously, making plans late in the night in Severus' rooms. They tried not to allow themselves to get too close to each other. In the early days, right after they had returned, they had brushed each other as they moved, and the resulting pause and eye contact had made leaning into him all too tempting. She had even let her eyes slide close as she was drawn closer to him- and then he had pulled away with a pained expression and escaped to the kitchen to make tea. When they got to close to each other, the pull of attraction was too strong.

It had become more apparent than ever that Hermione always found her way to Severus and his rooms and his tea whenever she was having a bad day, whenever she was tired, whenever she needed someone to talk to. He would help her in his own way, be it snarky comments or the loan of a good book.

On Severus' mantlepiece, now, was a small glass figurine in the shape of a crane, wings spread in flight. It had arrived, without a note, by owl on the morning of January ninth. When Hermione had seen it subtlety displayed, she had smiled carefully at him and had said nothing. However, she glanced at all night, as if immensely pleased with the way it looked.

The strangest part for them though were the Occlumency lessons they were giving Harry. They were in close proximity, sharing each others' minds, and yet had to remain in the persona of student and teacher. Harry was not responding well to the joint lessons, as Hermione had predicted to Dumbledore. Nonetheless, the headmaster did not want to discontinue the lessons. He thought they were extremely necessary, both for Harry to learn Occlumency but also so that he would get used to Severus.

Days and nights settled into routine, broken occasionally by a call from the Dark Lord in the dead of night, which for Severus meant the burning pain of the brand in his forearm and for Hermione meant a light heat at her wrist which was Severus' alert to her.

"We haven't spared in a long time," Hermione remarked casually one rainy weekend in January. One of her selves was doing homework with Harry and Ron in the Gryffindor Common Room and the other was reading in Severus' rooms while the professor graded assignments.

She could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he replied. "Afraid you've lost your touch?"

Event though his back was to her, she stuck her tongue out at him. "I've been keeping up my practice," she retorted. "I doubt you've had the time to."

He made some kind of noise in the back of his throat. "Let me finish the rest of this stack and we'll see who has 'had the time' to stay in shape."

For the next half hour anticipation curled in Hermione's belly as the scratchings of Severus' quill grew quicker and quicker.

Hermione could only remember the last time she had seen Severus practicing his knife fighting skills. It had been the day after he had kissed her the first time- he had obviously been punishing himself by forcing his body through drill after drill, leaving the more practical skill sets for the fancy and extremely complicated fighting dances, ones that she didn't even know yet.

He had been in his white shirt and black trousers, his habitual clothes. But his sweat had turned the white shirt transparent where it stuck to his skin, and he had looked so fierce and deadly and desperate that her heart had thumped and her belly had clenched.

It was something different from just plain sexy. Arousing might have been a better word. He had called to the carnal part of her, beckoning dangerously. In the dark of the room he had backed her against a wall and her heart had raced and if he had wanted to fuck her against that wall she would have lifted her skirt then and there.

Oh dear. Maybe sparring him wasn't such a brilliant idea when just thinking about him with knives flashing in his hands was making her feel almost uncomfortably hot.

"Ready," Severus drawled. "I'll meet you at the practice room. It gives you a few extra minutes to warm up and frantically review everything I've ever taught you."

She sneered at him, leaving the room with only a thread of apprehension. There were times when she was attracted to the sexy bastard that was Severus Snape and there were other times when the bastard part came to the forefront and she just wanted to strangle him.

When he did arrive in the practice room she was stretching and trying to calm her mind. Hermione had already tamed her hair into a braid and had her legs stretched wide as she lowered her body to the floor. Her Time Turner and the keys to his room were off the side. Hermione didn't want to see what could happen if they were fighting and the Time Turner broke. She kept the necklace Severus had given her, though, judging it short enough not to matter. Severus made all pretense of ignoring her completely as he completed his own warm up,

The room heated with a silent charge, the air warming as they loosened their muscles. It seemed to take an age for Severus to stalk to the center of the room, walking with easy grace and confidence. His shirt sleeves were rolled to just below his elbows, his shirt still crisply tucked in. His long hair was drawn back with a band. Without a curtain of greasy hair to obscure his face, Severus' sharp features were bare to her eyes. His nose and jaw were perhaps too harsh to be considered attractive by conventional standards, but his brow was fine and his mouth beautifully made. It was his eyes, though, that drew her in. There was enough light in the room that they had taken on more of a slate grey than black cast. Now they were watching her intently as she unsheathed her own knives and moved carefully toward him, hyper aware of the blades held in his hands.

Severus attacked first, coming down on her with his superior height and strength. She slipped out of his grasp, aiming a kick at his kidneys.

From there is as a blur of action; brilliant flashes of light off of their blades, spells shooting from the cores in the knives, and feet darting out of nowhere to aim kicks at faces or sensitive areas.

Somewhere in it all she disarmed him, kicking his hand with a hard foot and sending one of his knives flying. He only had one, and he used it well until she was able to hook it from his grasp with her two. She thought she had him until he made a waving motion and disarmed her wandlessly and wordlessly before she could raise a shielding spell. Her knives soared toward him, and it took just about every ounce of magical power and practice in wandless magic that she had to force them to shoot past Severus and into the darkness of the practice room.

"Hand to hand, then?" Severus asked, a sharp grin on his face. Hermione wondered if he even knew how happy he looked. She decided not to mention it, knowing that the typically sour man would immediately stop, if only out of spite, if he did know.

She grinned back. "Of course."

Bruises formed quickly as she blocked and spun and punched. She managed to land one good one on his face before he tripped her.

Hermione landed hard on her back, the breath knocked out of her for a moment. Even breathless, she managed to hook one leg around his ankle and pull him down with her. She scrabbled to get on top of him, to pin him down with an arm across his throat.

Severus struggled, letting out a shout of triumph as he managed to flip them over and pin her under him. She fought for a moment, but could recognize her defeat. He was much larger than she was. Both her hands were pinned above her head by one of his large hands, and the other arm was pressing lightly at her throat.

Both of them were breathing hard. Her mouth was dry; her lips were dry. She licked them. "I surrender," she said, voice much breathier than it normally was.

It would have been hard to say who became aware of their position first, who first knew about the press of breasts to chest and hip to hip. All Hermione knew was that Severus was looking at her in the particularly dangerous way that told her that he wanted to do things to her, things that she had only read about and perhaps even dreamed about if any of those dreams had lasted long after she woke with breasts tingling and stomach heavy.

For a moment she was sure that he would press harder into her, that he would kiss her again, that the stirring she felt against her center would press with growing hardness- but then that moment was gone and the arm on her neck was gone and her hands were released. Severus was standing, and she was still lying prone on the floor.

Wordlessly, he offered her a hand. She accepted it gratefully, letting him use the strength that had kept her pinned to pull her up. They stayed silent as they collected knives and healed bruises.

The sliver of time that it had been his body, heavy on top of hers, remained pressed into Hermione's flesh memory. She worked up her courage, collecting her things before drifting toward him.

She had to ask. "Are you sure?"

Hermione hadn't been sure if he would look at her or refuse to turn, but after a heartbeat he faced her squarely. "Yes." There was a practiced blankness to his features, a careful mask to hide his thoughts.

"Well, then," she said sadly. "We'll need a rematch. Just so you can prove that it wasn't a fluke."

Humor animated his face once more, creasing the skin near his eyes. "Of course it wasn't."

"I disarmed you first," she reminded him, eyes dancing. "We'll see next time."

It had been three days. Three days since Hermione had last come knocking on his door, which meant it was probably about six for her. Severus didn't like this.

He had been debating what he was about to do since the night before. It was late enough now that he didn't want to wait any longer, late enough that he was reasonably sure the Dark Lord would not call him. With a slight growl of frustration he tapped his wand to his pocket watch (on the chain she had made him) and sent a brief message.

Tea?

There was no answering reply. He frowned, and stalked to his desk. Well. If she didn't want to see him, that was her prerogative. They had been interacting quite frequently as late, and as January had made an uneventful and windy transition into February they had been spending nearly every evening together, apart from the ones he spent at the Dark Lord's side.

He had been spending more time with her than she had been spending with him. Severus supposed he should have been tired of her by now, but it had yet to happen after several years. When had he started to pay attention to her? To value her words? It about two years for him, although it was more than four for Hermione. Strange. She had matured so fast he hadn't even noticed that he wasn't treating her like a child anymore because she didn't act like one.

Hermione had wound her way into his life, her presence so constant it only felt strange when it wasn't there. Severus could remember the first time he had tried using wandless magic; the fight it had been to work without his wand had surprised him because he had thought his magic would work for him innately, as it had when he was a child using accidental magic. But no; before the wand it was possible but after using his magic with such ease going without a wand was impossible. Hermione as like his wand; he had functioned quite well before he had even known her name. But after they had grown close, after he had experienced life with a confidant who just smiled and shook her head when he snarked at her, it was impossible to go back. She made life easier. And then when she was taken away, when she left him and he was left crippled, it was like he was trying to do magic without a wand. He managed, of course. He found a way to function without a wand, without his Hermione, but it was a slow process. He missed her, he couldn't quite grasp that a foreign body that had been his for so long was missing.

Severus hated being dependent, or even slightly dependent, on anything. That was why he was taking great pains to develop his alertness potion without addictive qualities. He was already dependent on too many things- Hermione Granger being one of them.

Look at him here now, anxious and frustrated because he had reached out and she would not reach back. Anger, shame, hot and coursing, was burning his veins. Humiliation. He hated the feeling of hanging by his ankles from his own spell with greying underwear on display for all to see.

He checked his watch again, just in case he hadn't felt its burn. Nothing.

It prickled, the shame and awkwardness that weighed on his shoulders. What would he say to her tomorrow, at their lesson?

A creaking noise behind him. And instinctual movement on his part has his wand pointed directly at the shimmering figure that had just entered.

"It's just me, Severus," said her voice, surprised and perhaps a bit indignant. Another shimmering motion, and she slowly came into view once more; color trickling down from her curls to her legs. "There. Put the wand down, now?"

He did so deliberately, taking his time. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione frowned at him, holding up her wrist. Her silver watch- the one he had given her- caught the light. "You asked if I wanted tea?"

"You didn't answer," Severus said mulishly, crossing his arms. Some part of him felt elated that she was there, standing before him. Another was irritated, more flustered now than he had been before. How did she just think that she could do that, spurn him and then just waltz right back in?

Hermione's frowned deepened and she mirrored his pose, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. "I was with Harry and Ron when my watch burned."

He glared. "So they were more important?"

"I couldn't answer right away without letting them know," Hermione said slowly. "What's wrong? Of course they're important- but I came."

There was no recourse- the concern in her eyes was bothering him. He had to look away. "I thought you weren't coming. You haven't been to see me in three days."

Silence, prolonged silence, brought his eyes back to her face. Now there was a touch of red to her cheeks, and she was looking away. "I thought I had been bothering you," she mumbled, only speaking after letting the silence spread. "It was always me coming to you, not the other way around."

Something about that angered him- why should she doubt that he wanted her presence? Was Hermione the type of woman who needed constant reassurance, one of the needy, clingy ones?

"I wasn't aware that I had done anything that might have given you that impression," he said stiffly. "However-" He stopped speaking. Hermione was walking toward him, arms still crossed.

"I didn't want to impose," she said quickly. "It was just- you never seemed entirely happy to see me and I started thinking that maybe you wanted peace and quiet for your evenings and I was bothering you, or stopping you from getting work done or-" Her breath hitched as his hand came up and he rested one slim finger on her lips.

"I'm not a happy person by nature," Severus said slowly. "But do not think that I was not... pleased... by your company." Her lips were soft under his finger, warm and perhaps slightly chapped from the weather. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin.

She swallowed, raising a hand to take his hand from her lips to press it against the side of her face. It enveloped the side of her head entirely, and his fingers curled in her hair instinctively. "I was just... worried," she said. "That maybe I was pushing you or-"

His other arm snaked out to wrap around her waist slowly, and he moved toward her as she moved to him. Their embrace was not as awkward as he had feared it would be. She was warm against him. Her head rested on his chest, and he just held her for a moment. "No. I- My evenings without your company have been... lonely."

He could feel her sigh against him, and her body seemed to sink into his, to relax fully and softly into his hold. They stood in the center of his rooms for a moment longer, and he reveled in her softness and warmth. Privilege was this- holding Hermione Granger in the late evening, her strength soft against him. Severus had the feeling that she did not show this side of herself with many people, and he had the very distinct sensation of feeling honored to be with her like this.

The urge to kiss her was growing, the want, the need to slant his mouth over hers and hold her even tighter. Her curls and their heaviness against his hand would cushion her head, her skin so smooth and marred only by light freckles would turn red under his mouth.

That was his cue to pull away. "Tea?" he asked, all anger or jealousy or humiliation gone.

Hermione's eyes were sad. "That would be lovely," she said, and her voice caught. "Perfectly lovely."

"I say we tell Rita Skeeter," Hermione argued. "I need to be there in person, to make sure Harry doesn't give anything away."

Severus sighed heavily. "You aren't listening to me," he snapped. "Your plan is idiotic to the extreme. She's a bloody reporter, there's no way she would be able to keep quiet about your identity if she knew. There is no need to tell her that you are her blackmailer."

Snow was falling heavily outside the castle, although Severus and Hermione could not see if from Severus rooms deep in the dungeons. They could feel the cold however, necessitating the fluffy afghan that Hermione was currently wrapped in. Severus seemed immune to the cold, still in his usual slacks and button down. Their cups of tea were empty and abandoned on the side tables, and Hermione and Severus were glaring at each other without anything between them to maintain any level of civility.

"And what am I supposed to tell her?" Hermione asked heatedly. "Meet two kids in Hogsmeade and interview them and publish it? Keeping in mind that these kids are Harry Potter and his sidekick?"

"Exactly!" exclaimed Severus. "Why tell her that you are the one blackmailing her? The moment that article is published Death Eaters will converge on Skeeter. I doubt the woman would last more than thirty seconds under torture."

Hermione attempted to draw her fingers through her masses of curls, wincing absentmindedly as her fingers snagged in knots. "What incentive does she have, then? And I want her to see my face. She's been more rebellious lately."

"This is your pride speaking," said Severus harshly. "You want to be recognized for your cunning and that is what will spell your downfall." His grey eyes held hers, perfectly serious.

As he had expected, Hermione took offense. "Are you suggesting that I would endanger Harry and myself due to pride?" she asked incredulously.

Anger flared. "Yes," he retorted. "It is the most common of human flaws and you have more pride than most; it is in your nature. You are smart and you are good at what you do, but you work in the background. You're frustrated with her and with the lack of recognition you receive for-"

"Done with the psychoanalysis?" asked Hermione icily. "Or would you like to continue?"

He glared at her. "If you have something to say, by all means."

"First of all, the Death Eaters would have a hard time catching her," Hermione said, speaking quickly as her anger fueled her words. "She is a goddamn beetle animagus, there is no way that she wouldn't be able to escape anything they tried on her. The moment they breach the wards on her house she would transform, and she's too much of a public figure for them to attack her in the street."

Severus let out an angry snort. "That is exactly why the Death Eaters would do no such thing. She has too much influence with the common people who take her word for law. They would Imperious her or reverse blackmail her just as you have been doing. There is no reason to kill her, no, they would use her. And believe me, Death Eaters are much more frightening than a teenaged girl. She would turn on you in a second to offer them her services and it would be faster if she knew who you were."

"So what are you saying?" Hermione face was stony, her usual animation tucked behind a wall of composure.

"I'm saying," drawled Severus, "that it would be to your advantage to keep your identity a secret so that she doesn't actually know who she should be more afraid of, you or the Death Eaters. And you should make a move soon to insure her continued obedience lest she think she can buck her reins."

Severus was utterly surprised when Hermione threw off the blanket, leaving it crumpled in her armchair as she stormed away. He sat caught in paralyzing surprise until his body caught up with his mind. "Where are you going?"

She wheeled around, arms crossed tightly before her body. "To bed," she snapped. "If you're so bloody brilliant, do all the planning yourself."

This had never happened before; no matter how angry she had gotten. Hermione stayed to fight; she had argued with him over a potions book until three in the morning one night over the summer. This was unsettlingly new from Hermione.

"Don't go," he ordered, reaching out to grasp her shoulders.

Her nostrils flared and her eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

He frowned. "What do you mean, oh?"

"I mean that I'm tired, and I'm tired of arguing this stupid point, and that Harry was absolutely a mess today. Dumbledore wanted another report done by midnight, which means I'll have to do it on my turn around, and I-" She let out a long breath. "There's a lot to do. We still have more than two weeks until Valentine's Day."

Slowly he let his thumbs and fingers rub her shoulders. The muscles there were tense, tight to the point of pain. "Bring them here. We'll do all the reports together and stop arguing. I'll help you. It's only ten, between the two of us we'll have the reports done by eleven thirty at the latest." He got an idea, and began to steer her over the couch. "Actually, a house-elf can bring them." Releasing her, he moved a few steps away and cleared his writing desk.

He called for one, ordering it to bring the reports to his rooms. The elf was back in an instant, a thick sheaf of parchment in its hands. "On the desk, and you may go," Severus ordered. As soon as it was gone, he returned to Hermione's side, placing his hands on her shoulders once more. "I'll help you," he said, voice low.

Severus' hands didn't leave Hermione's shoulders. Instead, he turned them so that he was behind her instead of facing her and began to rub at the tight muscles near her neck. He knew how to get out knots- and she had plenty.

"Hold on a moment," Hermione said quietly. Her hand went behind her head and drew her hair up, winding it and coiling it into a bun. A thin band was drawn over her wrist, which seemed to hold the precarious mass. "There. That should stay up for a while."

He couldn't see her face but then again, he didn't think he could have continued if he had. Severus went back to work, placing his hands so that his long fingers curled over the tops of her shoulders, touching the hollows of her collarbones. His thumbs pressed deeply on either side of her spine and she shivered.

It's cold in here- she was using the afghan earlier. With a twitch of his fingers, he called the blanket over to them. Hermione accepted it gratefully.

She seemed to be unaware of the small noises she made as his thumbs dug into her back, rubbing hard. He was getting hard, embarrassingly so. It's a natural reaction to touching an attractive female and hearing her make noises that unconsciously resemble the sounds she would make during sex. He swallowed hard. Except I'm not supposed to be thinking about her that way.

For God's sake you already think about her that way. She's probably thinking the same things about you. The voice he hoped was the voice of truth spoke clearly- the way she was leaning into his touch and sighing made it quite clear that she enjoyed the contact.

"This is wonderful," she said, voice breathy. "You are a god among men, Severus."

It surprised a chuckle out of him. "Hardly. I just have... dexterous hands. Comes with being a Potions Master."

A smile spread across her face- he knew it did. He couldn't see her but he could almost sense the change in her body. "Oh? And when would you need to massage something while making a potion?"

She had caught him. There is a way to beat her at this after all...

Severus leaned down until his mouth was by her ear. "You don't." He was pressing a kiss to the tender skin below her ear before he could stop himself. The skin there was thin and soft and it smelled like Hermione, like her hair and like ink and like old books. Rose hips, from her shampoo. It was an open mouthed kiss- his tongue flicked out and tasted her skin. Hermione's arm came up, holding his head in place. His lips moved from below her ear to under the line of her jaw, suckling there too.

Her fingers had made their way to his hair, and as he released the skin and breathed on it, she shivered and clenched the fingers wound in his hair. The slight pain was tantalizing rather than distasteful, but it did bring him back to himself. Severus straightened.

"You can't just do that," Hermione said weakly. "That's- that's not fair." The light from the fire was low. The coloring in the room was off, and it affected her face. She had been biting her lower lip- there were teeth marks on lips flooded with blood, almost plum colored in the darkness. Her hair was up, exposing her neck and making her look as haughty as a queen. Her eyes were lidded, their gaze more intense that it usually was. She looked older than her eighteen years, and her eyes appeared older than her face.

He raised an eyebrow. "What would be fair?"

She beckoned him. "Come here," she ordered. She stood, shedding the blanket. "Sit."

He did as he was bid. Hermione walked behind him, until the only sign of her presence was her heat at his back. It was unsettling, knowing she was so close and being unable to see her. He jumped when hands pressed to his shoulders, small ones that only touched him tentatively.

At first her touch was light, and only served to make him tense more. It was clear- despite her earlier words- that she was unsure of herself.

"Harder," he said after a moment. "I'm a touch less fragile than you are."

That got him hard thumbs digging into his muscles with enough force to make him groan. "I'm not fragile," she growled.

"I know," he said, smirking. "That was to get you angry enough to put some back into it."

She was silent for a moment, but her hands kept moving. "You're a prat," she said after a moment.

He was relaxing under her hands, sighing with how good it felt. "Anything new to tell me?"

Hermione moved closer to him. "Well... now that you mention it..." her words were drawn out, her voice curving around them with delicious knowledge. "I'll have you know that I've thought about this a lot."

That was a surprise. "Hmm?"

It was her turn, now, to slide against his back and whisper in his ear. "Your shoulders. I've stared at you and wished that I could rub your shoulders, take some of your tension away, make your world a little bit better..." He felt the puff of breath against his throat before her mouth closed in on his skin, suckling. She moved quickly, pressing her nose into his hair.

"I thought we couldn't do this," she whispered. "We are getting distracted."

It might have been true but it was also true that she was bending down awkwardly and it would be better for her neck and back if he looped an arm around her waist and drew her into his lap. As soon as she was seated he reached into her hair and found the tie, Vanishing it with a concentrated spell. Her hair exploded around the, and he nuzzled inside it until he found her ear. "Yes," he murmured. "Why is it that my self-control is deplorably weak around you, Hermione?"

Her hands, small and hot, were on his neck. "Because you care," she answered. "Because I care, about you. Because self-control is underrated."

"Why did you walk away earlier?" asked Severus. He had debated the question quickly, trying to decide if bringing up their earlier fight would break them out of whatever was lowering their inhibitions. It was as if they were trapped in a bubble of amber, acting as if the world outside and the consequences of their actions were held at bay by hardened sap.

Hermione's breath held, and then she released it a steady stream that was hot against the spot where she had tucked her head. "Because I was stressed and tired and you normally make it better but it was just getting worse."

"Am I making it better now?" He got his answer when she pressed closer to him. Severus tightened his arms around her, just breathing in rose hips and old books and Hermione.

They both knew that the moment they moved the amber would shatter and their responsibilities would be on them again and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

"Miss Granger, explain to me why I've heard that Harry will be going to Hogsmeade with a certain Miss Chang." Dumbledore's usually friendly blue eyes were icy, his steepled hands foreboding rather then eccentric.

Hermione fought the impulse to fiddle with the edge of her skirt. "It's part of my plan. It'll be Valentine's Day, Harry and Cho will spend half the day together, and then Harry will meet me and Luna Lovegood for an interview with Rita Skeeter. Cho will be upset that he chose me over her, and that'll be the end of it."

The Headmaster frowned. "That was right, Severus did tell me you were planning to use whatever hold you have over the woman to publish an account of what happened at the graveyard. From the name of the other girl with you I'm assuming you're publishing in The Quibbler." He stroked his long beard, thinking. A few of the silver instruments puffed harder than usual, and calmed.

"If all goes according to plan, Cho Chang will be so humiliated she'll hardly be able to stand showing her face at our D.A. meetings," Hermione said promptly. "Harry will be confused, and there will be so much attention on him that he will hardly have time to think about girls."

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore said, brightening a bit. "If you are bringing Miss Lovegood, do you think you can also bring young Ginny Weasley along?

No, I don't want to. "No," Hermione said carefully. "This meeting is restricted only to the essential personnel. I don't want to draw attention. I've reserved a meeting room at the Three Broomsticks. Just Harry, Luna, Skeeter, and me." She sighed. "And it wouldn't be Ginny's idea of fun anyway. She's popular, and she probably has a date with... I think it's Dean Thomas that she's seeing now."

Dumbledore smiled genially. "Well then. Let her be young and not drawn into this all for a while longer. Perhaps you can work on dissolving her relationship with Mr. Thomas-" he paused, scrutinizing Hermione's face. "Ah. I see you do not like that idea."

"I don't," Hermione said quietly. "If they are meant to get together, they will. We don't need to manipulate them into it."

"Do not think of it as manipulation, my dear," Dumbledore said kindly. "Think of it as doing what is best for them."

I can't do that. I hurt Harry enough already, I can't do it to Ginny and to Ron and to Harry even more.

The middle of February was a misery of slush and wet snow that hardened into slippery ice. Herbology was canceled twice because the grounds were just a bit too pitiful to cross.

Hermione's private room had a small window that looked out over the lake. By the middle of the month it gave her only a grey, dreary picture.

The bed was nearly a nest of blankets, piled upon one another until Hermione was as warm she could get without warming spells. The small book she used to communicate with Rita Skeeter was propped in her lap, and Hermione was using one small hand to write in it. Ink drops dotted the coverlet by her inkpot, making her wince. Some poor house-elf would have to clean it if she couldn't find some way to siphon it off with magic.

You will be meeting some friends of mine tomorrow. You are familiar with some of them..

Hermione had to only wait a moment for Skeeter's response.

What's in it for me? And where is the meeting?

Eventually Hermione had agreed not to reveal herself to Skeeter unless absolutely necessary. If the woman acted scared of her in front of Harry or Luna, it might make them wary of her as well.

You will be meeting Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Luna Lovegood at the Three Broomsticks. You will be getting the first exclusive interview from Potter on the events of the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Miss Granger is there as my representative, and Miss Lovegood as the representative of the Quibbler, in which this interview will be published. This is not up for discussion. You will write the story exactly as it is told to you, and it will then be reviewed by myself before publishing.

Rita's response was a long time in coming.

They'll find me. How much am I being compensated for this?

Hermione smiled grimly. She would do it.

Officially, you are receiving no compensation. After printing, if the article appears exactly as I edit it, a small sum will be paid to you. Also, a friend of mine in the Dark Lord's circle will ensure that no one will go against you. If the do, they will need to answer to me and they would not risk it.

Biting her lip, Hermione examined her response. It might have sounded a bit over done, but what was said- written- was said.

Fine. Any other instructions?

A sigh of relief left her lips.

Yes. Do not be seen. Do not enter the Three Broomsticks. Fly through third open window on the second floor. It will only be open from 2:00 to 2:10 so do not be late. You will leave the same way. The children will leave first, you will wait ten minutes and then leave through the window.

Hermione closed the book. The hard part was done- the rest would play out the next day.

So ends Chapter Twenty-Seven.

So, as I said earlier, Spring Break gave me some time to write. The next update will either be on the 4th or 11th of April.

Small Excerpt:

"No one saw you come?" he asked, voice low and urgent. "Not one person, not a portrait, not a suit of armor?"

Hermione's frown deepened. "Not even the Fat Lady," she said slowly. "What's this about, Severus?" She folded her arms, looking up at him expectantly. There was more than a little worry behind her calmness, a wildness that flickered in an out of being.

Lots of drama next chapter. :) Then comes 29 which is a mammoth chapter. 11,000 words. Yikes.

Also: Another Rainy Day, the one shot I mentioned, is up. Go read and review! It is sweet. Imagine that it's our pair twenty years in the future.

GUYS I GOT THE FULL RIDE SCHOLARSHIP. HOLY FUCKING COW. I'M GOING TO COLLEGE SEVERAL THOUSAND MILES AWAY FROM HOME FOR FREE. MORE THAN A QUARTER OF A MILLION DOLLARS AT ONE OF THE BEST UNIVERSITIES IN THE COUNTRY. So... yeah. Holy cow. I found out yesterday. (today because I'm writing this on Thursday night and holy cow i'm still freaking out). So yeah. I know where I'll be in six months!

See you in a few weeks!