Disclaimer: Wow, I'm so flattered you think its mine. But it isn't. The plot is, but it isn't particularly original. J.K. Rowling's…
Hmm, I am getting ready to go out, so not only am I in a hurry, but I have the horrible knowledge that this chapter is, as with my other story, not so long as I usually make it. And I won't have a chance to post this until Sunday or maybe late Saturday, since I have a big competition tomorrow. I get to get up at 6 thirty on a Saturday morning. Yay. I am so incredibly sorry that this chapter took me so long to get out, but I have two stories going and I was searching for chapter ten of this one as I was writing chapter nine. Didn't work, the muses don't like to let on too far in the future. Hope everyone likes this chapter; there isn't a lot of action or anything, that all is going to come later…perhaps next chapter. Please feed the muses with reviews so that they get sugar-highs (even if its from criticism). They are so damn funny when that happens! Oh, and btw, if you read (not sure why you would be in chapter nine in this case) and are tempted to leave the review: you simply suck as an author, don't ever try this again, come back when you've actually got some ability…please DO. I'm so worried that I suck because I have recently read a whole lot of trash in this ship (which I am drawn to because it draws more talented and mature authors) and I really don't "WAnt too b one f them" , especially unknowingly! IMPORTANT: I made several mistakes (don't I always) with ages and time: upon numerous recountings, we realize that Harry is seventeen, not eighteen as it says in the first chapter of this story and Snape has not inhabited the dungeons for almost twenty years, but sixteen. Sorry, and the second one is very important, but the first one is a commonly made error that I noticed and only now decided I ought to fix. Just seems so odd to my American waysJ Also, only one person seems interested in having me email them when I update, but the offer still stands open if anyone wants me to.
There's only one thing for it, she thought as she tied the sash of the robe tightly and stepped outside into the corridor.
Albus heard Severus's story calmly, offering the man a lemon drop when he had finished. He pretended that he couldn't sense the powerful cleansing spells the man had recently used. He pretended that he couldn't sense the downward spiral this young man was taking. He was damn sick of pretending. He kept a cheerful outward persona at all times for several reasons. It reassured those loyal to him and those who depended on him and it confused the hell out of his enemies. But there were times…there were time when he just wanted to weep with what he had to send those who were like flesh and blood out to do for him. It was one of the reasons he would not allow Harry to the front lines. Best to let him keep what little innocence he still had, and even that was hardly anything to speak of. Severus had no innocence left, and the Headmaster felt it keenly every time he laid eyes on the man who would always be a boy to him. He was at a loss as to what to do. Severus could not keep this up indefinitely, no matter what he insisted upon. He would be found out sooner or later, and they had yet to develop a feasible plan for the saving of their spy's skin. And it was no help that Severus refused to be party to any such contingency. Albus knew that he felt that he could never atone for all that he had done both while he was truly a Death Eater and now when he was on the Light side, but well over a century had given the Headmaster a fair amount of experience. He wished he knew what he could do to make Severus realize that there were things in life other than endless contrition. But right now, there was nothing more to be done than sit in his office and discuss who would be named the Minister of Magick. He talked the younger man into sitting in one of the comfortable, soft chairs that filled one side of his circular office and took a seat opposite. They spoke in low tones as though they would be overheard, urgency compelling them to wrack their brains for answers, for solutions. None came.
The halls were quiet and slightly drafty and even Hermione's thick robe could not keep her from shivering as she padded to her destination. As Head Girl, she could not get into trouble for being out past curfew, but run-ins with Filch were always unpleasant. She wondered idly whether Snape would be making his patrols tonight, but immediately dismissed the thought. No one ever came near where she was about to go. It was her own special spot. She pressed a gentle hand to the wall and felt the cold stone melt away into nothingness, revealing a small room. She was not near any House, as far as she knew, nor were there any classroom near this secret room. She had stumbled upon it quite by accident during one of her customary insomniacal rambles through the castle in the restless hours before her body forced sleep on her recalcitrant mind. Hermione felt lucky to have uncovered this solitary retreat in her first week of school. Otherwise, she had no doubt that either she would be much more sleep deprived, or attempting to make herself comfortable in the drafty Astronomy Tower. She shuddered at that thought. Being Head Girl came with some wonderful privileges and she usually even enjoyed most of her responsibilities, but there were some things that she would rather be kept in the dark about. The professor's rule regarding the Astronomy Tower being one of them. It was that unless students weren't of age or were being terribly indiscreet, there were to be no questions asked. She knew that most of the Seventh Years and Sixth Years had already had…experiences, but she didn't really want to know about them, let alone encounter them when trying to seek peace. She paused in the entrance to the room, letting the stale air be replaced by that of the corridor. She stepped in and the charms she had made so that the lights would turn on in increments were activated with her presence. The candles in the old-fashioned wall sconces were one of the things she loved most about this place. She smiled and took a quick turn around the room, making sure that all was as she had left it. Naturally, the walls were the same black color that should have disturbed her but did the opposite, comforting her too active mind. There was a normal looking door to the outside, and gorgeous French doors on the opposite side of the rectangular room, set with a dark wood that she had never decided on the origin of. The same dark wood also made up the mantle above the dark red brick fireplace. The mantle had been bare when she had first found the room, but over the past few months she had put a few things in to save conjuring. There was a charming little mirror she had picked up in Hogsmeade that would have been extraneous with the large mirror that had come furnished with her room, a mug, and a few muggle pictures that she had taken over the summer. She had discovered that she had a true enjoyment of the past time, and it was one of the few things that she liked to do in spite of her lack of ability for it. She walked over to pick up her favorite, a scenic shot of the lake near the vacationing spot her parents had chosen. There were rolling green hills misted over with a thick fog, and there was swirling vapor rising from the lake. An overhanging tree behind her had added shadow to the picture, and she rather thought it looked good with the slate grey sky. The sky was her favorite part of the snapshot: that hopeless grey, but with a fierce and powerful strike of lightning splitting it defiantly in half. It had been pure luck that the lightning had come just as she was about to take another only average picture. A smile ghosted over her lips as she recalled the thrill of seeing it for the first time when she had developed it. She put it back carefully and turned around in her surveillance of the room. Yes, there were the two plush chairs of a soft silver color, and the maroon sofa that was large enough for her small form to fit on horizontally. She would not like to have this room all the time, simply because it made for such a splendid place to 'get away from it all.' She walked out to the best part of the place, trailing her hand idly over the soft, sensual fabric of the sofa as she passed it. She grasped the worn doorknobs and pulled the French doors open to reveal a small balcony. It looked as though no one had been on it in months, but she had actually been here just a little over a week ago. She had found the dust charm in an esoteric book she had gotten out of the library for light reading and had realized that it would greatly help relieve her fears of someone discovering both her secret haunt and the fact that she made visits there. It was also easily put on and removed. She performed the latter charm and stepped onto the pretty rough hewn stone, her slippers making an odd scritch on the ground. There had been an old black wrought-iron lounge chair out here when she had first gathered the courage to find out what lay behind the forbidding doors. A few repairing and cleaning charms later, plus the addition of some simple black cushions she had purchased in Hogsmeade, and it made for the most comfortable spot for late-night contemplation she had ever found. She whispered the quiet sounds of a warming spell over herself. Then Hermione sat down with a relieved sigh, looking at the panoramic view the balcony afforded of some of the most scenic areas of Hogwarts, especially the lake. The single sliver of moonlight that hung suspended in the midnight sky illuminated the still figure of the girl as she lay lost in thought in her own private world.
Severus was finished with his report to the Headmaster. Seeing the pain in the man's eyes when he heard about that night's events hurt him. Dumbledore had been trying to talk him out of spying since the summer he began, but the man would never succeed. Wiser than any wizard living, and most who were not, the Headmaster still could not fully understand Severus's need to make whatever paltry compensations he could to the world that he had wronged so much. Only one who has fully touched Dark can understand what it is like when you have forsaken it. Scorned, it is a force beyond reckoning. An undefeatable force that Severus had been striving against for years, and would continue to do so until his long-awaited death day. He lived through every moment, waiting until he next went to Voldemort and heard the Dark's taunting, seductive whisper in his ears. This was his life.
The two men had stayed and talked over the ramifications of the Minister's death (Merlin how he loathed those sinking, soft chairs of Dumbledore's). Both realized that the Dark Lord had not acted hastily. Irrationally, yes, but Voldemort had enough people in his pocket at the ministry that he could put whoever he so chose in the position of Minister of Magick. The million galleon question was whether Voldemort's puppet could be convinced to put his strings in their hands, or if he was truly loyal to the Dark. Severus found the idea of a 'truly loyal' Death Eater really rather humorous. After all, Slytherins were well known for their ambition, not loyalty; and no matter how much it appeared to the contrary, every Death Eater was only out for themselves. Even his allegiance to Dumbledore, unshakeable as he knew it to be, was for the self-serving interest of penitence. He gave a short and bitter laugh.
Now, he was going to go purge himself of the memories of the night. He had discarded the idea of work, knowing that he was not able to produce anything useful, and a hot bath seemed too normal. It was not for the likes of him. That was what, say, muggle insurance salesman did when they had a bad day. Even if he wasn't positive about what an insurance salesman was. Instead, he went to the only place where he could find release, where no one expected him to be anything. He was not Professor Snape, he was not Master Snape, he was not Severus Snape, and no one cared that he was nothing because no one was there. Although he admitted freely the consequences of having a hiding place, he felt no more liking of people than he had as a student at Hogwarts. In fact, he had discovered this place in his sixth year. Sneaking out was not nearly so difficult when no one tended to notice that you were there at all, so he could get away from the Slytherin dormitory almost as often as he had needed to. He had returned to his favorite hiding place of youth when he became a teacher, when he became a spy.
It took awhile to reach the place, especially as he was so paranoid as to be continually searching for someone following him. But once he was there, he knew he was safe. He had put so many protective wards about the entire wing that he was sure that no one save Dumbledore had enough power to even see it, let alone get in. Even the bloody Boy-Who-Lived didn't have the strength; or rather, didn't have the wit to use what raw power he did possess. If he did, perhaps Snape wouldn't need this place anymore. He'd be getting all the peace and rest in the world in whatever afterlife there was. Any student would have looked at him and had a fit of shock from seeing their stern teacher without his shields. He kept his masks about him even his private rooms, as they were easily accessible by the other teachers and, though to a lesser extent, to students as well. He was a Head of House, and a troublesome one at that. Here, he could relax his iron control, but it could never be for more than a few hours and once a week at most. He had duties. He had responsibilities, and he could not shirk them simply because he was at his breaking point. He would not allow it. But now, after tonight, he felt that perhaps a small award was warranted. Just an hour or so. An hour of solitude. He never realized that what Dumbledore said was right; he didn't need solitude, he needed quiet company. Perhaps his ruminations almost a week ago had been correct. Was this self-imposed lonesomeness really voluntary, or did he secretly crave the companionship of someone else? Well, whatever the truth of the matter, the one thing he did know was that he had to do something to get the taste of Fudge's blood out of his mouth. Even vomiting hadn't been able to do it. He pressed a long, thin hand to the wall and felt it recognize him, granting him access instantaneously.
As he gently lit the wall sconces, he glanced around to ensure that all was in order. Yes, the sparse room was dusty from months of disuse, but still intact. A single chair, a bookshelf, and a table. A few bottles of liquor and a few glasses set on the mantle. Sometimes, getting drunk was the only answer. Though certainly not for poor Miss. Granger. Hermione. He thought about the girl he had come to know just a little bit better in the past week. She was not, after all, completely repugnant, despite her Gryffindor nature. He would never admit that perhaps it was because of it. He paused right inside the doorway, which had already closed behind him. What did he feel like doing tonight? He didn't find it very difficult to answer that question. He moved to the fireplace, although he forbore igniting it. He didn't wish to ward away the November chill that bit the air. He was still clothed in his Death Eater robes. It was a wonder that no one had seen him as he walked through the castle. What a scene it would be if a student were to find out about his…other life. He realized that he had been gazing down at the cold grate and quickly grabbed a bottle of his favorite scotch, aged appropriately, and poured himself a stiff drink. He wouldn't get drunk tonight, he decided. Just buzzed enough to forget a little bit. Sipping idly at the amber liquid, he felt the rush of fire it gave him. But he was no alcoholic; he could not afford such weakness, walking the tight rope as he did every day. He rolled his neck around sinuously to release, at least for a few moments, some of the tension gathered there. Then Snape summoned a set of robes he kept in the hidden closet there and exchanged his filthy clothing for fresher ones. Well, they were fresher once he had applied a few spells to them. At least they didn't have the sordid taint of the Death Eaters and Voldemort. Thus adorned, he moved to the balcony that lay beyond the simple double doors at the far side of the small room. He stepped out into the cool night air and relished the chill as it seeped through his thin robes. He took a few deep breaths but it was not helping. His mind was still reeling with unending self loathing and he could not function like this.
Not bothering to charm away the dust that had gathered there since the last time he had been able to get out here, he simply sat on the freezing stone and stared moodily out at the grounds of Hogwarts, willing some amount of relief to come to him. Suddenly, without rational thought, he stood and let out a cry of desperation and fury and emotions that no human should have to recognize, let alone harbor within their self. It rang out against the night, defiant even in its wretchedness. This was the only place he could let go of his carefully constructed persona, and tonight he intended to take full advantage of that fact. He pounded his fist on the metal railing, relishing the pain it sent racing in jags through the side of his hand. He did it again, harder. Severus took a deep shuddering breath, perhaps to cry out again, when he heard a noise that did not belong to the natural night. He froze. That wasn't possible. He had put up so many wards around this entire wing, it should have been impenetrable to any but Dumbledore even if they had been searching for it. And yet his fiercely searching eyes made out another pair, wide eyed and staring. Hermione Granger, two balconies away.
Heeheehee. I wonder what is going to happen next. Will Severus go ballistic? Will Hermione run away? Will they gaze into each others eyes and realize the pure love that they harbor for each other and that will vanquish that nasty old Dark Lord because it is sooo wonderful? Sorry, but the last one ain't happening. But this is a SS/HG romance, don't worry. I actually don't know what is going to happen, but I hope to write as soon as I get this posted. Please, I will love you forever if you review, as I do those who did so for the last chapter:
Lollylips3: Umm, thank-you very much, but as I haven't yet decided on whether Harry is gay, and in any occasion, he would be bisexual, since he has only dated girls so far. Thence, the term 'faggot' doesn't really work. He is just a messed up young man who is currently acting like a prick. I thank you muchly for your approval and for voicing it, just please try to keep the homophobic terms out of it. Glad you like it.
Xanthos: Wow, I love that you like this. There actually won't be romance scenes *soon* I don't think, but they will definitely be there. If you read closely (or not so closely, I'm not really good enough to be particularly subtle) then you know that I've been laying the groundwork, but I don't want a sudden and unwarranted student-teacher relationship.
Nocturnus: Don't worry about your grammar, I just appreciate that you reviewed. Severus will be showing little bits of tenderness, and I tried to put some in already (if you notice, he thinks about Hermione rather nicely). Please tell me if you don't think I'm successful at that, although I didn't really have much in this chapter as far as I can recall. About the owl, the only confident Severus has at the moment is his very cool snake doorknocker. I thank you a lot for the suggestion, but I don't really feel comfortable using another author's creation (fanfiction anyway, I know I'm using J.K. Rowling's stuff), especially without their permission. Rowling has given her reader permission to write fanfiction, actually. I'm very glad that you voiced your comments, though:D
Loony Lupin: Oh yes, lots of Severus angst in this fic. And there may or may not be more interfering (noty evil, though) Ron, and I think Harry is going to keep on trying to figure himself and the world out. Thanks for your review!