Wow… I'm overwhelmed by the response this little thing is getting. All I can say is 'Thank you!'

Answering a couple of questions from your reviews: The title of the story comes from a poem by Delmore Schwartz: 'Time is the school in which we learn, time is the fire in which we burn.' Although I did consider changing the title of Ch3 to 'Abyss of Time', in the end I decided I preferred being accused of bad spelling than misquoting Shakespeare. ;D I went and downloaded Cash's version of 'Hurt', but what can I say, Trent is Trent. No one besides him -not even my beloved Tori Amos- can do that song justice.

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Four – Truth

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Truth will come to light… in the end truth will out.

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"Today we will start the next point of the NEWTs syllabus: Memory Charms," the diminutive Professor Flitwick announced in his high-pitched voice. "Now, can anyone give me an example of Memory Charm," several hands shot into the air, "…besides Obliviate?" The hands went down at once.

Flitwick looked so crestfallen that Hermione felt compelled to do something she had barely done since her return to the present. She raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Flitwick said hopefully.

"Though the most common are Memory Removing Charms such as Obliviate, there are countless different types of Memory Charms, some of them bordering Dark Magic," she started in her best lecturing voice, "reaching from Memory Enhancing to Memory Modifying Charms, like the ones occasionally used on Muggles or victims of traumatic experiences."

"Thank you! Five points to Gryffindor!" Flitwick was positively glowing. "As Miss Granger has pointed out, a large number of Memory Charms are considered… dubious, for lack of a better word. Needless to say, those will be discussed only briefly and in a strictly theoretical context. However, there are others, for example the basic form of Memory Enhancing Charms, which may prove very useful in times of intense studying such as the weeks prior to your NEWTs. Now, let's all turn to page one hundred and eleven and practise the incantation."

Hermione opened her book and glanced at the pages with barely concealed boredom. She could have done the spell with someone else's wand and her eyes closed. While the rest of the class recited the spell over and over, her mind drifted to other things.

Such as those strange dreams she couldn't make sense of and kept coming nightly. Sometimes she remembered every detail, sometimes only disjointed pieces. The thing was that they were getting more and more… well, explicit. It wasn't as if she had never had dreams of that sort before, but they had never felt so… 'Real,' she mentally finished. They were so vivid, she woke up feeling as if they had really happened. And the fact that her -how to call him?- her companion was always the same person, and someone real, didn't help matters any…

"Very well, class. Let's divide into pairs for practice, please!" Professor Flitwick's voice cut trough her thoughts, and she looked up to find a very hopeful looking Neville Longbottom heading straight in her direction.

"Do you mind if I partner with you?" Neville asked as he came to a halt before her.

"No, of course not," she answered feebly, trying to sound sincere.

As encouraging as Hermione tried to look, the truth was that no matter how much Neville had improved in the last two years, she still felt somewhat cautious when his magical skills were concerned. He smiled shyly as if asking permission and raised his wand.

"Mensaugeo!"

Hermione felt as if a blade of cold fire had cut into her chest, settling between her ribs. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps and the Charms classroom started to swim before her eyes.

"Longbottom! What have you done?" Flitwick shrieked.

"Nothing, I swear! I'm sure I cast the spell correctly, Sir!" Neville's anguished apology was the last thing she heard before the drumming in her ears blocked out every other sound in the room.

She was twirling a in a sea of icy darkness, while series of scenes flashed with vertiginous speed inside her mind. Warm lips roaming over her skin, his hand trembling as he clasped a necklace around her neck, black eyes begging her to stay…

The visions started to realign themselves like a huge puzzle inside her head and she realised what they really were… memories! Her memories! Her head was spinning faster by the minute and dizziness engulfed her until she couldn't bear it anymore and the darkness swallowed her whole.

Snape watched as the seventh years from his Advanced Potions class slowly filled the classroom. Not for the first time, he wondered how that bunch of useless brats had possibly got through their OWLs, thus sentencing him to two more years of enduring their stupidity.

Although he would never admit that to anyone but himself, and even that only on occasion, there were a few notable exceptions to the general standard. Such as Draco, who seemed to have, if not a true gift, a certain aptitude for the art of Potion making. Or, as much as it pained him to concede, the obnoxious Potter. Or Her, of course. But she was in a league of her own.

And speaking of her… where was she? He couldn't remember her ever being late. Directing his best condescending sneer at Potter, he drawled, "I see Miss Granger has decided to deprive us of her unrivalled intellect today."

Harry cleared his throat and met Snape's eyes. "Hermione is in the Hospital Wing, Sir."

Snape felt a thump in his chest – only one, as is if his heart had ceased to beat. It took him all of his willpower to master his expression and lift an eyebrow in what he hoped looked like his usual contemptuous manner.

"There was an… accident in Charms class this morning," Harry continued.

"Was there, now?"

"We were… practicing Memory Enhancing Charms and she just… fainted."

Severus clenched his hand around the wand inside his pocket. He was going to hex Potter if he didn't give him more details. Embracing his anger, he and used it to spit, "And would it be farfetched to assume Mr Longbottom contributed with his invaluable input to this situation?"

The snickers from the Slytherins and guilty looks from the Gryffindors confirmed his suspicions.

"Well, Potter, be sure to inform the Head Girl that Longbottom's ineptitude does not excuse her from the essay on the properties of dragon claw due tomorrow."

Harry merely narrowed his eyes at him, incapable of hiding his hatred.

Snape rounded on the rest of the students. "Do you perhaps expect your Restorative Draught to brew itself?" he barked and waved his wand at the blackboard, where the instructions for the potion instantly appeared. The class started the brewing and he stepped into his office. Once the door was closed behind him, he leaned his forehead against the cool stone wall and breathed heavily.

She was hurt.

She was lying in the infirmary and it was entirely his fault. He should have known, he should have anticipated it… but how could he? How could he have foreseen that a simple Memory Charm –possibly not even accurately cast, if that dunderhead Longbottom was involved– would interfere with his spell?

And what had Potter said? Memory Enhancement Charms. Could it… no, it would take an extremely powerful mind to have the Buried Memory Spell annulled by such a simple charm.

'But she is extremely powerful', he said to himself. This would only serve to confirm what he had known all along.

After taking several deep calming breaths, Snape returned to the class. Just as he was about to circle his desk, an unopened letter on top of his papers that hadn't been there before caught his eye. Frowning, he tore the envelope open with a sharp movement.

Professor Snape,

I regret to inform you that, due to personal reasons, Miss Hermione Granger will be absent from Hogwarts for an as of yet indeterminate period of time. Until her return, all customary Head Girl duties will be assumed by the Head Boy and/or the Seventh Year Prefects.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

TBC…

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Quote from Othello.