Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to the goddess, JKR or the divine Ms Charlotte Bronte (although there are a couple of very Jane Austen-esque scenes and lines in here as well). Written especially for Lynn, to whom the chapter is dedicated with many smiles. Please bear with my inconsistencies…as much as I love 19th century British fiction…I am not an expert at it. Your indulgence is much appreciated.

Chapter 6: How History Repeats Itself

It seemed to Severus that the storm was raging with unusual fury as he raced his horse towards Thornfield. The rain was relentless, coming down in sheets, stinging his face and practically blinding him. The thunder crashed around him…booming rolls of noise that made him cringe and startled the stallion. The ever-present danger of lightning made him huddle low on the saddle, holding Hermione closer to him in an effort to shield her.

Something was amiss. If they had been back in their own world, he would have immediately suspected Dark Magic. But this was not their world and he mentally consigned the younger Malfoy to some terrible nether region of hell once again. Azkaban was nothing compared to what he wanted to do to that spineless whelp of a man.

Severus could feel Hermione shivering and inwardly cursed his misguided intentions. He had wanted to give her an opportunity to recover her optimism and strength and now she was in danger of catching her death of cold as he so jokingly pointed out earlier.

"Mrs. Fairfax will certainly have my head," he thought to himself as he urged the stallion to go even faster, oblivious to the fact that he himself was soaked to the skin.

They arrived at the manor in due time…Severus practically leaping off the horse before helping Hermione down. He handed the reins to a waiting groom who quickly led the foaming horse into the stable, looking back at them curiously.

"Come, Hermione. See if you can walk," he held out his hands to her to guide her. She faltered on the first step…almost falling if not for his almost cat-like reflexes…catching her before she struck the wet ground.

"I…I don't feel at all well, Severus," she said weakly before swooning into unconsciousness.

"Hermione!" He shouted, picking her up in his arms and hurrying towards the entrance to the manor.

He kicked the door open and walked in, cloak billowing from the fury of the storm, a frantic look in his eyes…Hermione still not moving…

"Mrs. Fairfax! We are in need of assistance!" He called out, looking around wildly for the housekeeper.

Mrs. Fairfax hurried into the room and gasped when she saw the insensible young woman, dropping the bit of knitting she had been working on.

"Leah! Grace! Come quickly! Hurry!" She screamed as she rushed over and placed a hand on Hermione's forehead. Hermione moaned a little and tried to move her head away from the slender hand.

"Merciful heavens, she is soaked through and burning with fever, Mr. Rochester. We will have to bring her to her room. Ah, Leah…there you are…and Grace. It's sheer Providence that Jane is so slight…you will have no trouble carrying her."

Severus did not understand what Mrs. Fairfax meant but when he saw the two female servants approaching him, he realized that 19th century muggle customs were not all that different from 19th century wizarding customs. He did not protest as his burden was lifted from him.

The two women carried Hermione gently and Severus stood there for a moment, bereft of feeling…wondering what he could do.

"Mrs. Fairfax…this is entirely my own fault. Damn stubbornness on my part to insist that she take some air. She is my responsibility…a member of my household. Give me an occupation…I must do something," he protested, rubbing at his temples.

The housekeeper looked at him with sympathy. "You always had a good heart, Mr. Rochester. We'll try to get her settled in and then you can see her for just a bit. In the meantime, we wouldn't want you to get sick as well. Change into some dry clothes and go into the library where you can have a warm brandy. It's just the thing for keeping a body healthy after an ordeal like this."

"Thank you, Mrs. Fairfax…I will do that. Please keep me apprized of her condition. If a physician is needed…there are other horses that I could ride to summon help," Severus replied.

"It is likely unnecessary…but I will let you know." And with that the housekeeper went off in the direction of Hermione's room.

Severus stood there for a few moments and, ignoring the chills of the wet clothing against his skin, moved to the library where he poured himself a rather large glass of brandy and downed the contents in one swallow.

"Damn!" He hissed through clenched teeth and threw the glass against the fireplace. He didn't bother to repair the damage this time.

He began to pace again…backwards and forwards.

"I am utterly useless in this place," he thought to himself. "I have no potions ingredients and no means of producing anything useful. All my knowledge in the field of basic medicinal herbology is utterly useless to me. What if she develops seizures? What if she does not regain consciousness? 19th century Muggles wouldn't know the first thing about treating illness…they bled everybody, regardless of the ailment."

He stopped for a moment, a look of horror on his face.

"What if she dies?"

A spasm went through his heart and, for a moment, he closed his eyes in sheer pain.

"No…I will not allow her to die…not here…not now," he thought in despair. There had to be something he could do…someone who could help.

The sound of footsteps caused him to turn around. Mrs. Fairfax, looking quite pale, beckoned him to follow her. He did not reply but swept out of the parlour and towards Hermione's room.

They reached the door and Mrs. Fairfax paused, turning back to Severus. "She's…she's not herself…keeps talking about people I do not know."

Severus, muttering under his breath, nodded impatiently and the housekeeper opened the door. Severus hurried inside.

Leah and Grace were off to one side, arranging linens and setting up a basin of water. Hermione was lying on her bed, dressed in a white cotton nightgown, with the bed linens brought up to her waist. Her forehead was slick with perspiration and she looked very agitated.

"Ron…Ron…why did you leave me? Why…" she moaned, tears flowing down her cheeks.

She was clearly hallucinating and that meant her fever was dangerously high.

Severus felt his heart drop.

****************Back at Hogwarts******************

Harry was sitting in the Gryffindor common room. It had been such a long time since this room had seen him as a regular occupant. Sinking into one of the really comfortable squashy wing chairs near the fireplace, he could almost imagine that he was a student again…studying for Potions finals, playing Quidditch and getting into all sorts of adventures with his best friends.

Sighing, he looked at the two other wing chairs that they had regularly occupied during seventh year.

"We were supposed to celebrate Voldemort's defeat together," he whispered to the room. "It wasn't supposed to end the way it did."

Standing up, he walked over to a small display cabinet within which was a broken chess set. There was a small plaque on the chessboard.

Dedicated to the memory of Ronald Weasley

"You shouldn't have gone out that night, Ron," Harry whispered to the chess set, his eyes aching. "It was stupid of you to come after me the way you did."

"He was doing what he thought was the right thing to do, Harry," Sirius stepped through the portrait door and looked at him sadly.

"Was it the right thing?"

Sirius shook his head sadly as if to imply that the question was too difficult to answer. "Harry, Ron felt that you were important enough in the battle against the Dark Lord to sacrifice himself. He knew that you had gone after Hermione. He was not going to sit back and not help. If the situation had been reversed…would you not have gone?"

Harry sat down heavily on his accustomed chair and put his head in his hands.

"Of course not, Sirius. I…I just miss him and now…with Hermione stuck in that book…I just feel so useless. All this power…all this talent. All the accolades about the Boy Who Lived and I can't even stop my best friends from getting hurt."

Sirius came to stand beside Harry and patted him on the shoulder. "Unfortunately, I know what that feels like."

"I'm sorry, Sirius…I didn't mean to open any old wounds," Harry replied contritely.

"No apology is necessary, Harry," Sirius smiled. "There is a limit to what we can do…even to protect the ones we love the most."

"I can't lose her too, Sirius," he whispered. "She's all I have left."

"What about Ginny?"

"That's not what I meant. It's like you and Remus…you are the only two Marauders left."

"I know what you meant, Harry," Sirius replied. "But you have to take heart in the fact that she is an intelligent witch and she will find a way to get out of there."

"At least she isn't alone," Harry sighed, looking at the empty fireplace.

"I just hope that Severus is not giving her a great deal of trouble," Sirius grunted, walking over to one of the empty wing chairs and sitting down.

Harry looked pensive for a moment. "Somehow, I don't think so."

******************Flashback*****************

It was finally over. The Dark Lord had been defeated and the world had been saved from plunging into total darkness and chaos. The Boy Who Lived became the Man Who Triumphed. The celebrations would not be ending anytime soon.

But the price had been high…higher than Harry expected.

Ron was dead…killed by Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione had been brutally violated by the same man and was still recovering in the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey had been a casualty in the final battle and so it had been the responsibility of the Potions Master, Severus Snape, to heal the young witch as best he could.

Two weeks had passed and she had still not regained consciousness. Harry could see that Severus was worried and spent much of his time reading through books on medicinal potions that he procured from the Restricted Section. It seemed odd that the older wizard would be devoting so much time and effort to try to wake her. His skill was apparent in the way he was able to look after the countless others who were injured…his ability to stopper death had certainly not been an exaggeration. Hermione was the only patient left and Harry sensed that there was something different in the Potions Master's treatment of his best friend.

Something that he could not put his finger on.

It was not something that worried him…he never felt that Severus' treatment lacked any of his customary skill and talent…or that Hermione was ever in any danger. It was just something…the touch that lasted a fraction of a second longer than was absolutely necessary. The look of worry and unease…glints of fear in the normally unreadable black eyes. The way he pored through book after book in an effort to find some vital piece of information that would unlock the mystery.

And then, of course, there had been his reaction to the dispatching of Lucius Malfoy's soul…

One night, Harry could not sleep and, in a fit of nostalgia, threw on his Invisibility Cloak and wandered the corridors of Hogwarts…reverting back to a habit picked up while a student. He passed by many places that brought back vivid memories of his friends and sometimes he smiled…and sometimes he didn't.

Wanting to see Hermione suddenly, Harry turned back to the infirmary and, finding the door already open, quietly walked in. He was about to take off his cloak when he noticed that she was not alone. Not that this was surprising in the least but he almost gasped aloud when he saw Severus sitting on a chair beside her bed, holding her hand as if it were the dearest thing in the world to him. Harry's eyes widened and he put his hand over his mouth.

"Please, Hermione…I have tried everything. I don't know what else to do. I fear that you are mired in fear, shame and guilt and that you have lost the will to come back to me…to us." The older wizard was whispering brokenly. Harry was astonished at the expression of sorrow…so unlike the man he thought he knew.

He watched as Severus touched Hermione's cheek softly.

"I can't lose you, Hermione. You're the only thing left to me in this world. I…I could be happy…seeing you live your life with another…knowing that you were happy. I will not ask that which is not within my right to ask. But I am begging you…please do not give up. Please come back to me."

Severus leaned over and kissed Hermione on the cheek.

"I love you," the words were whispered so softly that Harry wondered if they had been the product of his imagination.

There was something very sad about this hopeless declaration of love that Harry immediately felt like an intruder and padded out as quietly as he could. He had never believed his former professor to be capable of such strong emotions and now…Harry knew that he had been sadly mistaken.

Hermione had recovered consciousness the next day and Harry wondered if it was merely coincidence…

…or something else…

**************Back at Hogwarts, in the present**************

"He'll look after her, Sirius," Harry repeated in a firm voice. "I know it."

Sirius merely grunted in reply, looking rather skeptical. "He's a cunning wizard, Harry…I'll grant him that. And I know he has a great sense of honour…don't think anyone doubts that…'cept maybe Fudge but his opinion isn't worth the parchment it's written on."

"And he saved her life twice before…once when he discovered her in Malfoy's mansion. The second time in the hospital infirmary…when everyone else thought there was no chance of saving her. Who's to say that three times is not the charm?"

"I know, Harry," Sirius sighed, stretching in the chair in a manner highly reminiscent of a dog. "I'm not trying to be uncharitable. He's proven himself to me many times over."

"Then what is it?" Harry asked.

Sirius did not answer.