Disclaimer: No, really, I promise that I'm not making anything from this. And it wouldn't be on FANfiction sites if I was claiming authorship of the concept (I do, however claim authorship of this fic). So don't bother me.
Um…yeah. I have no excuse save that real life has been pretty damn busy lately and that I have recently used up more than the 150 hours of internet time that I am allowed per month, which ends after the 13th, so I am going to have to figure out the fastest way to get my author replies and upload this. Remember, if you want to be on a mailing list (and I don't perceive future chapters taking anywhere near this long, I'll be on break in a week anyways) either tell me in a review, or drop me a line (never understood that expression) at amariran@yahoo.com because I would love to email you when the next chapter is up. I hope that you somehow forgive me for taking this long, and enjoy this story. All comments and criticisms of any extent are fine by me:o) Oh, and a whole lot of you may be a little disappointed with this next part. Sorry, but as a warning, all predictions are subject to being WRONG.
Only a Northern Song
Hermione felt the sneering words permeate the shell of self-loathing she had collected around herself. She could sense the lascivious gaze which swept over her figure, swathed even as it was in indeterminate fabric. For the past week, he had begun to stop over after she was done with work but before she could tumble onto her lumpy mattress. Just to chat, he claimed, but she didn't believe it for one moment. She knew what he wanted, and she knew just as surely that he'd get what she had given the Death Eaters if he tried anything of the sort.
Her boss or no, she wasn't going to be any one's toy any longer. But she also knew that there were few people in the wizarding world, if any, who would deign to hire her for even the most menial of labors. She was forced to walk a fine line between teasing…and inviting. She steeled herself invisibly and took the first careful step.
"Well, if my clothing isn't quite right, we'll just have to fix it, now won't we?" she asked with a smile as she stepped out of the bowl of steaming hot water she had been soothing her feet in. A quick wave of the wand that lay beside her on her chipped plastic table and she was wearing a nice pair of jeans (well, comparatively) and a tank top. Another wave and her straggly hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail. She summoned a towel and dried her feet manually, keeping him in her eyesight as much as she could. If she was lucky, he would leave after having a drink with her; it had always worked before now, and she had no reason to believe that he would change his habit. Then again, she had long since ceased to believe that Lady Luck held her in any particular favour. "Like a drink?" He nodded, his eyes still trained on her form. Hermione cursed the Fates for landing not just one, but two demeaning jobs in a row, complete with very own asshole employers. She didn't think she would ever have the energy to rebuild her life. Once had been hard enough, and this was where it had landed her. Popping the top off a beer for her employer at one in the morning, hoping against hope that he didn't try to molest her.
She smiled as brightly as she could and tried to wish him away. She was unsurprised when it did the opposite. The average looking man glanced around the room as though he owned it, and then made himself at home in the only comfortable chair there. He was about to toss the book he almost sat on away when the title caught his eyes. As did the feel of an old, well-bound leather book.
"Where did you get this?" he asked slyly, territorially turning it over in his slightly pudgy hands.
"A friend," Hermione answered shortly, annoyed at the thought of him touching one of the few remainders of her former life. She kept meaning to send it back to Snape, but had never found quite the right time. In fact, she had all but forgotten about the tome. Books and knowledge had little to do with her current life.
"Looks old…" Hermione privately doubted the man could read even a word of the text. He would only know a first edition as grand as that one if it were labeled as such. In really big letters. The thought of defacing Snape's property so made her wince. Luckily, her unwanted companion didn't seem to notice. "So are you still trying to avoid your life?"
"Hardly," Hermione said, striving to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She did a good enough job, she supposed, because her boss beamed up at her, throwing the book aside to land with a hard thump in the corner.
"Splendid. This is your life now, dear. With us. With me." With those words, he got up and walked over to where Hermione still stood, a few feet away by the refrigerator. Her mind whirled frantically trying to think of an excuse to put off the attentions of this vile man without enraging his ire.
"Oh, sir, I am soo tired," she cooed seductively. "Perhaps we can finish this conversation…another time?" The man, who was rather stupider than his outward appearance would suggest, stopped and narrowed his gaze at her, trying to make her feel as though he could read the secrets of her soul. After seven years in Professor Snape's potions class, she found the attempt laughable. Then he nodded wisely and, giving a ridiculous looking bow, Apparated back out to whatever hole he had crawled out of. Hermione gave a relieved sigh and collapsed into the nearest chair. How was she going to keep putting him off?
***
The worried girl woke up at the harsh buzz of her wand a few hours later, stumbling wearily into her miniscule bathroom to prepare for another exhausting and tedious day. Hermione's mind was now working better than it had been for a few years now, trying to figure out just what she had to do to balance the living she needed to make with the life she needed to have. And just as she was cleaning a bit of steam off her little mirror, the idea came to her. It was odd that it had never occurred to her before, seeing as how it had always been the answer before. Well, it and the library, really. Yes, school. She would go to Uni like she should have two years ago. She would create a whole new persona, an entire person that had no such baggage as Hermione Granger had. Death Eaters, best friends who saved the world, sleazy bosses and dead end jobs would have nothing to do with this new girl.
All through the day, Hermione went through the routine motions of her life, while planning out the intricate details to her scheme. She definitely needed to keep the jobs that she now worked at because she needed a way to pay for tuition and books and…and there was so much, she had no idea how or why she was even thinking of trying.
Depressed with the futility of her situation, she didn't smile at one of the patrons quite bright enough to suit him and wound up with several more bruises on her arms than had been there earlier in the day. Wincing as she walked the few blocks in the dark streets, Hermione reflected on the fact that there were people so petty as to care about such a thing. Was there anyone, anywhere, in the world who wasn't like Gavin or Eldrich or Malfoy, or Zabini, or McNair? Her faith in humanity had pretty much crumbled that fateful night a little more than two years ago. Now she had to decide whether there was a point in rebuilding it, and her life.
***
The reason came walking up the street five days later as she strode home on her night off. Although it took him a while to determine that this was, indeed her, since she was identifiable only by her walk. The tall figure slipped stealthily out of the shadows of one of the buildings, causing her to scream. Upon realization of who this person was, Hermione narrowed her eyes in annoyance, confusion, and another emotion she would never have admitted to-relief.
"What the hell are you doing here, Snape?" she snapped at him and brushed past the man coldly. Hadn't she made it damn clear to Harry and Ron that she wanted to be left alone?
"Ah, the lovely tones of your voice shall warm my heart forever. Looking for you, of course." His voice was even and sarcastic and so familiar it almost brought Hermione to tears. She had made her decision a few days ago: that she was doing as well with her life now as she would ever do. Why did he have to come and try to change that?
"Well you've found me. And you can tell my so-called friends who sent you that I am fine and then you can go and stick your head up-." Her biting tirade was cut off by a low chuckle and Hermione stopped stock-still in the middle of the street. Since it was summer, there was still plenty of light, but she could see hints of a sunset if she looked over the tops of the buildings.
"Charming, but unnecessary. Perhaps we ought to take this somewhere a bit more private? I trust that you live somewhere around here." Hermione's brain flew, thinking of the best option.
"Actually, no. I was just in the neighborhood. Buying things." Hermione held up her bag. Truthfully, all it had in it were her work clothes, but Snape didn't need to know that. "Unfortunately, much as I'd love to linger, I think I have to go wash my hair." Her words were said in so reasonable a tone that it took even sharp-witted Severus a moment to register just what she had said. By that time, Hermione had Apparated away.
***
And with that one little moment, Hermione's plans had completely changed. She was not going to be a person who would be ashamed of meeting an old professor on the street. She would be what she had always dreamed she would be when she grew up. She had just never thought that she would have to grow up in a week, before she was eighteen. The war had left a heavy mark on the shining girl she had begun to bloom into. Now was the time to revert a little. Or move on, perhaps. That was the better phrase. She had been a little surprised that Snape had been able to tell that it was her. After all, her cosmetic charms were very advanced. Her hair was short and cropped in slightly curling blond locks. Her eyes were a watery green, and her complexion was an artificial tan that library-loving Hermione would never have worn. Hermione did what she had always done when she had a difficult puzzle to solve. She made a list, divided, and conquered.
First, she had to get a new identity. Anyone would do, and she had heard that there were people in her neighborhood who specialized in this sort of thing. If they were given the right price, that was. She made a quick mental tally of how much money she had. Although she wasn't paid very much, she lived so cheaply that she did have a little bit of money put away. She hadn't had a reason for saving it, but she was now damned glad that she had.
Next, she had to make a list of the colleges that she would apply to. Oddly enough, wizarding colleges didn't require high school transcripts, and she could scrape by without recommendations if she did as highly on her entrance exams as she intended to do. She had not really considered college after school because she had just been eager to get on with her life and enter "the real world". Highly overrated, reality was. Her dream college when she had still been young enough to ignore the war raging outside of Hogwarts Castle had been wizarding Oxford. And they did give merit scholarships, she recollected. There was a possibility…
Lastly, she had to figure out how she was going to both attend classes and work three full time jobs. That would be one of the biggest difficulties she would face, but she was determined to meet this challenge as she had every other in her life: knowing she was going to win.
***
"300 galleons?" Hermione was aghast at the exorbitant sum. She had been willing to pay a lot, but that went far beyond her means at the moment. She wasn't sure how long it would take her to raise that sort of money, and she only had a certain amount of time before the deadline for application was up. The smirking wizard with shifty grey eyes nodded solemnly, though his eyes were laughing at her naïveté. "Well, I'm not so certain that your quality of work is worth it," Hermione said, changing tactics immediately, having realized that the innocent tack wasn't going over so well with the street hard wizard.
The man casually flipped out a sheaf of papers. "No, you don't. These are all top-quality documents. With my work, no one will ever know that you aren't…say, Melinea Murdock. You can get into places, buy any item with these i.d.'s…hell, you can go to the Ministry of Magick, and it'll all check out like its real." Hermione bit her lip, though she hid the nervous motion well.
"I may be back, if I decide to invest my money in this venture." If she could figure out where to get the money. Hermione was hard at thought as she wound her way to the bar. Before going off to her last job, she had stopped off at a little place where a coworker had quietly told her she would find what she had wanted. She knew that she could make money at the lounge, but was she really willing to do it? Hermione took a deep breath before she walked into the smoky, dark place. There was a price for everything, and she had learned long ago that there was nothing to do but pay it.
***
He ground his teeth to keep from snarling in anger. He had lost what little faith in humanity he had ever possessed so many years ago that he shouldn't be surprised by this, but his heart didn't care that it was supposed to be petrified. There were few things he had ever given up on in his life, but this was going to have to be one of them. She had obviously made her choices…and there was nothing he or his world had to offer her if this was what she wanted. It had been hard enough to track her down as it was. He walked out of the hazy room without a single look back. Perhaps he would have seen the look of heavy regret that flashed across the dancer's face before it was replaced by the flashy, seductive grin she had been wearing all evening.
***
She felt filthy. Hell, she was filthy. There was nothing wrong with what she had done tonight, nothing that thousands of perfectly respectable women hadn't done for ages. The problem was that it was such a perversion of her true nature. But she was not going to dwell on it. She was going to do it, and she was going to end this sham of a life. She would exchange it for a different sort of sham. Hermione had realized that it would be possible for her to quit this work if she really did get the scholarship, so she had taken to studying in every spare moment. She knew that Eldrich was getting sick of being put off every night, but she had no way to resolve the issue. She would never give in, but playing along was the only way she could ever get out. The former brunette wearily shut and Banished the textbook she had been avidly reading, knowing that he would be Apparating to her flat in a few moments. At least he was predictable. And at least Snape hadn't shown up again. She ignored the regret that painted that thought as she pasted on a smile for her unwanted visitor who had just deigned to pop in.
"Darling, I must tell you that you were simply marvelous. In fact, some of the men were even asking whether you were also available for…some of the other services many of the girls supply. So-."
"No. But be sure to tell them I'll be back at the same time in a day, as we discussed." The middling man looked slightly put out, and then seemed to brighten.
"But of course I knew you would come around once you got to know me. If only we could conquer this little hang up of yours."
"I've told you before, I would feel simply *terrible* if you were to catch my beri-beri. But don't worry, dear, its quite temporary. Just a few more weeks and I'll be ready, willing, and very able to…help you out," Hermione purred. Just a few more weeks and then I will be out of here forever, good riddance and I won't let the door hit my ass as I high-tail it out of here. But for now she would speak softly and carry a powerful wand. Although the man in front of her certainly didn't know it. He knew the former Hogwarts Head Girl only as far as the papers and tabloids had suggested her to be, and therefore suspected none of the true depths of the simpering, phony twit she played. He had really approved of her new look when she decided to disguise herself, and had been openly pleased that she seemed to be diving right into her new life. Soon after, Elrin Eldrich had begun to grandly bestow his attentions on her. Hermione had acted the flattered female, and had been powerless to stop him when he insisted on visiting her at her room. She had, however, managed to keep his interest on her while making sure that he didn't force her to have sex until she said she was fine. Lovely idea, she thought. She had thought of it from a favorite short story by Dorothy Parker, a muggle poet and author. She suddenly spotted a college review book on the floor next to her bed, where she had not fully tucked it underneath. She had to hide such things, for she wouldn't like to see Eldrich's reaction if he caught wind of what she was doing. But all her carefulness would be for naught if he saw that one, thick manual.
Hermione smiled again, brightly, at the man standing next to her bookshelf, and then yawned hugely.
"Sir, I am sooo tired. I can't possible be of any use to you tonight. Besides, I want to get some sleep so that I can practice my routines. I do so want to be the absolute best that I can be." She sauntered over to him seductively, a fawning look etched on her features. Her body, thin though it was, was large enough to block his view of her bed. Eldrich certainly wasn't smart enough to realize that she was trying to be a screen, but simply contented himself with gazing hungrily at Hermione. She knew that he was mentally undressing her, and the thought made her skin crawl like so many ants over her body.
"Well, fine then. Be sure that you are as attentive with your work this morning as you were last night. I knew the moment I saw you that this was the life you were meant for. You were made to be on that stage, in that costume. How lucky you are to have found your true vocation." He smiled a mockingly tender smile that looked more demented than anything else on his bland features, and Apparated back to whatever hole he had crawled out of. But his words rang in her head. Was it true? He had seen hundreds of girls in his career, perhaps she really was made to do this. To strut about scantily clothed, with hair not her own and a smile forced upon her face. Money her only goal, and men her only way to get it. As always happened when she got like this, her ears filled with the taunts of the Death Eaters. Whore, mudblood, slut…the list had been endless, and after awhile she had started to doubt herself. Hermione's eyes began to blur with fatigue and self-defeat as she looked about her scanty apartment. And her eyes fell upon the book Snape had lent her.
The former Gryffindor student pursed her lips in determination. She would be able to give that book back to Professor Snape some day. She would be able to look him straight in the face. And on that day, the voices in her head would be silenced for ever. The images would wrinkle and burn as though they had never been there at all.
***
So she danced on the stage, paying no attention to the cat calls of the brutes who frequented the place, showing her wares to people she may have gone to school with but who would never even know her name. And as she gyrated to the strong beat, she composed a rebuttal to Potions Professor Blinkus of Durmstrang's unfounded treatise on the uses of Memory Potions. He didn't seem to realize just how much intent and ingredients relied upon each other. And when she had that done to her satisfaction, and she had another number coming on, she created a complicated Arithmanthic equation involving the likelihood of Gryffindor's Quidditch team winning its first match next year and the weather a day and a week from now. And when the music to her final number floated through the air of the dark room, she fixed firmly in her mind's eye the pleased expression that Snape would wear when she gave him back his book.
***
Hermione nodded, unsuprised, as she read the letter that an owl must have dropped on her table. It was the last one from the schools that she had applied to. She had been invited to sit entrance exams for all of them, based on the quality of the essays she had sent in to them. This one, crafted so prettily on thick cream paper with ornate gold script, requested her presence at the Oxford University of Magick. The exam, like the others, would occur some time in early August. Sick days were glared upon by Eldrich, but she had no choice. This was her final chance at a new life. And she was going to seize it by the tail, and get all that she could out of it.
With a deep sigh, she Banished the letter into a magickal cupboard she had created after her dangerous run-in with Eldrich a little less than four weeks ago. Magickal schools were known for their promptness in the admissions process; large faculties and few students permitted them to get word back to potentials within a few weeks of their having submitted essays. Then she pulled out the most recent copies of Arithmancy Archive, Potions and the World, and Transfiguration Today. If she had been famous in her school days for her endless revision, she was absolutely mad with it now. Every spare moment of her days until the exam would be taken up with making sure that she had lost none of the knowledge she had gained at Hogwarts, and brushing up on the latest information that she had no doubt missed out on for the past two years. She failed to see how there could be a downside to knowing too much.
***
The day had snuck up on her, and she suddenly realized that she didn't even have a wedding present for her best friend and his soon-to-be bride. Nor did she really have the money to spare for one. But such an excuse would never do in her book, no matter how understanding she knew Harry would be. So she needed to figure something out. She had requested a day off, and made out with that odious man in return for it. But it was worth it. She was so proud of her Harry, and she couldn't wait to see him waiting at the altar. She knew he would probably chew his lip in that cute little way he did when he was nervous and didn't want anyone to know it. And she and Ron would look at each other, all three knowing exactly what was going on in each other's mind, just like old times.
Abruptly, Hermione snorted, the sound ringing in the small room. Foolishness, all of it. Realistically, she would show up in Transfigured clothing, as close to the actual starting time of the ceremony as she could to avoid the inevitable awkwardness. Ron would try to get her to talk to him, she would rebuff him, and they would end up sitting on opposite sides of the room with as many people between as possible. Hermione would focus on Harry in an effort to ignore the whispers from the other guests about her, and in doing so she would just make him even more nervous. He would wish that he had never invited her and then she would try to steal as quietly as possible out of Hogwarts, where the wedding was being held. But she would somehow manage to run into Snape and he would draw himself up in that way he had and sneer at her like the stupid child she was, and he would know what she did every night, every night now…
Hermione took a deep breath. And then another, and then several more, until she was sure she was ready to think rationally. The wedding would neither be a perfect fairy tale of newly found happiness, nor would it be the terrible angst fest she had just pictured. It was true, her life had taken a turn for the worse rather than the better since her decision, save for one thing. One thing of paramount importance. She had a focus. She had purpose, she was going somewhere. And that made all of the difference. She knew what she wanted, and even if she had to do some things which she would otherwise find abhorrent in order to get it, in the end, the result was all that mattered. It was her mantra now just as it had been years ago. Now, she needed to deal with the problem of Harry and Mireille's gift. Suddenly, an idea popped into her head. It would require a fair amount of time and an enormous amount of power, but she had plenty of the latter and enough of the former, so she would do it.
Hermione used the bathroom and then got dressed, not much caring what she wore. After all, she was merely going down to the drugstore on the corner. She just needed to purchase a mirror. The girl figured that pretty much any non-spelled Muggle mirror would work for this.
Walking down the street in the early morning, she took in the juxtaposition of the innocuous parts of her neighborhood that were just waking up- and the slightly more dangerous parts that were just going to bed. Five thirty in the morning but she knew Donald would be up and open. He tried to keep as wide hours as he could so that he could have as large a clientele as possible. He also stocked almost anything one could want- if one knew where to look for it in the disorganized room he called his store. Luckily, Hermione had become good at uncovering abstruse and seemingly unrelated objects, so she didn't have as much difficulty as most. This had won her the respect of the normally irascible old man. Entering the store, she took a moment to soak in the lovely chaotic mess. She was snapped out of it quickly by a sharp voice.
''Ere now, woman, do git along with ye if ye have mind to be buyin' somethin'. Else, get out."
Hermione smiled pleasantly at the grouchy man as she walked quickly around the room to where she was almost certain she would find what she was looking for. Ah, yes. There they were. A small number, to be sure, but she needed only two. After several careful minutes of inspection, Hermione chose. The cheap pieces of glass were identical, set in brushed chrome frames with detachable stands, so that they could be easily put in a pocket or stood on a dresser. Either way would be useful, if her charm worked properly. She had gotten it in her mind to create a sort of portable Floo connection. It was like a muggle cell phone, except that the couple would be able to actually see each other, and the mirrors would never be out of service, something that Hermione's parent's had oft complained about before they had been killed during her seventh year. She didn't know much about wanting to see another human being, but she knew something of Harry's nature; somewhat starved for love after his years of abuse with his beastly relatives, and she thought that they would appreciate her effort. Of course, there was always the possibility that Harry had succumbed to one of the beautiful gold-diggers who had been at him since he turned seventeen, and who would enjoy only a rare or expensive gift, but she rather doubted it. And the gift would, in fact, be rare; she had to tweak and change several of the spells she would use, making it an entirely unique creation.
Several hours later, Hermione wavered a bit on her feet, a smile of contentment on her face. She had needed to drop the cosmetic charms for two reasons, one being that they took up a lot of power that she needed to use to create this gift, and the other being that there was no way she was taking a chance that someone there would connect her with her lounge dancing. Okay, three reasons, really. She wanted this to be as close to normal as possible for Harry, and his dark-eyed, dark-haired friend showing up with bleach blond hair and eyes of pale green just might not accomplish that goal. Despite the exercise of her power that the charms had been, she was tired with the enormous amount she had had to use, but she was fairly certain that the Mirrors would function perfectly. She glanced at her old watch, and her eyes suddenly widened in alarm. It was two hours until the four 'o clock ceremony! She still had to get a shower, Transfigure clothing, do her hair and makeup…. For the next ninety minutes, the flat was full of a rushing Hermione, trying to make sure that she had everything together.
Freshly showered, hair brushed back into a neat bun…with the help of several charms, gift wrapped in pretty paper, Hermione prepared to do battle with her wardrobe. Clothes were rather difficult to change, because they didn't usually *want* to change. They liked being what they were, and it required a certain level of ability to be able to make them into something else, and force them to keep their shape. Especially if the outfit had started out as differently as hers had: a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt turned into a grey skirt and square neck line sleeved shirt. She had been too tired and rushed to add much decoration to the outfit; she had rather gotten past the point where she really cared about what she wore. As long as she wasn't wearing something that would embarrass Harry (although she figured just her presence at the wedding would accomplish that), she was fine. Besides, who was she going to impress?
About to Apparate, Hermione vaguely recalled that she had forgotten to feed herself. She sighed, hating to waste the time that it took to fix herself something to eat, but still forced herself to make the short walk into her little kitchen area and fix a quick sandwich. She ate as fast as she could, shaking her head in irritation at the slowness of her chewing pace, wishing there was some way she could just forego this mundane task. Well, not unless she really had a burning desire to faint in the middle of the ceremony. She took a big swallow, and a last sip of the soda she had pulled from her fridge, cleared up, ran into the bathroom for a final, awkward check, and then Apparated. She arrived exactly as planned, ten till four.
I thought that, maybe, with the sort of random title I might explain what my titles are. I use Beatles songs, because I like the Beatles and I have this great big anthology with weird, weird fan art. And when I'm done with a chapter, I think about it for a little bit, and then pick out the gist of it, like a theme or main idea that pops into my mind. And then I go through the book to find a song title that matches it. And then once I've found a title, I go through the lyrics to see if they work. And if I can't find a title that I like, then I look for a song that has lyrics that match it. I am not going to reproduce the lyrics of the song used for this chapter, but its about things not mattering because no one is there, and I thought that that was pretty much what Hermione was feeling, although she still found a reason to go on. So, having said that, I want to thank all the wonderful people who took the time to review the story and to plead with others to review because it really makes the muses happy. Authors notes rushed. I'm sorry, but my net is very limited time I have…that wasn't English. I'm sorry.:
*Ailene: Thanks, and here you go
*V-volatile: I don't know, I need to work on my characterization of Harry in this fic. And sorry, but it wasn't Snape.
*JestersTears: I actually have only a few moments on the internet right now, but I cant figure out for the life of me why I didn't respond to your lovely review right away. It makes me want to go write right now so that you can read and hopefully enjoy, and ashamed that I hadn't posted before now. You are so sweet, and your review really explained what you like about my fic, and the muses are absolutely high right, now, I can tell you. I;m sending my best wishes that you are able to find a job soon and I am glad that you also like and are reading ASD…truthfully, this is my favorite as well. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!!
*Deritine: Well, sure she could get a better *muggle* job if she wanted to, but the Ministry in my world really frowns upon use of magick around Muggles, and therefore she would be unable to practice it and that is not something she is willing to do, if you recall her and Gavin's conversation when he threatens her. Don't worry about rambling I do it all the time, and I'm not sure how the wedding is going to go, I'm writing it as I…er…I'm writing it.
*Q: Thanks, and at the moment Hermione is depressed and self-pitying. Er, she was. I hope this chapter did what you said, because right now, Hermione is beginning to take back all the control of her life, and not be so self-pitying, and her new persona has told me its really fun, but I don't know yet, haven't gotten that far. And warning, this isn't going to turn in to a power chick fic, sorry:D
*M0r1ath: Interesting sn. Sorry, but it is still going to take a while (I think) for them to start kissing like…er…frenzied ferrets :D Glad you like it, and I promise that there *will* be romance, but I want Hermione back on track before anything else happens, I think that's really important.
*Mylin: I;m so glad and I hope you enjoyed
*Sam: Well, that's the point, the guy is very rude. Glad you like the pace, I;m not a very experienced writer, so I;m trying my first long story. I don't use the thesaurus all that often, but I am such an avid reader that it happens; I hope it doesn't get to confusing or pointlessly long-worded. Tell me if it does.
*Eternal Queen: Here is the continuation. Well, since they had to form a working relationship b/c Harry is with the school a lot; recall Harry and Hermione's conversation when she admits that she spent the last two days with Snape.
*Dixiehnsnluvr Woohoo! I'm glad.
*Landry Anne: Oh yes, I've done that. Hm, I hope you didn't think it was the Dark Mark. Remember, Severus was there that night, and he knows what went on, which I think will play into the fic later. Sorry if I disappointed you. Hope you did well on the project, and for the record I am taking time when I ought to be writing a speech, so…nyahJ Thank you.
*MadAboutHarry: Yeah, well…they're so freaking FUN:D She is really insecure, especially because, as I mention in this chapter, the things that happened to her with the Death Eaters, and the way her life has just generally gone crappily. I am trying not to make it uber pathetic and unbelievable, thence the reason she is starting a new life now. I hope you like this chapter
*Madeleine Jete: I'm sure you would like to know that I am so stupid I had to look up what Deus Ex Machina. So, thank you for expanding my knowledge, and I am trying damned hard to stay away from them; I had to rewrite a chapter three times because it did that every single time… And muses are not always fun, they can be demanding and bitchy and terrible, trust meJ Thanks for the praise, and my studies…well…*snort* the world won't end with a B- on…two tests… *Tracy: Hehe, sort of unintentional ending, the muses stop it where they will, but I;m glad that you want more.
*Redone: Yeah, all right, probably lost you with the disgusting amount of time that it took me to do this. Sorry!
*Candace: Thanks muchly for the email, it made me and the muses very, very happy. I love RENT (your signature…). Just had to mention that, sorry. Now I am off to post and then do…surprise: More homework! Thanks for the sympathy. Hope that you like this chapter as well.