A/N: And we're back again... I'm glad to see you're still reading

Chapter Summary: One of these things does not take place this chapter: Severus fantasizes, Ron yells, Ginny fights, Blaise apologizes, Albus complains, Hermione forgets and you review.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. JKR owns all the characters. The plot belongs to my muse, and was probably influenced by every other fan fiction I've ever read. I still don't have any money, so suing me would be rather pointless. I do however own the keyboard and fingers that typed the story...so if you like what you read, or if you don't, let me know on the review board.



Carefully Crafted World


Chapter 3

Severus narrowed his eyes at the Headmaster, "Your love of those," he paused to glare at the offered treat as if it had just dared to insult his skills as a Potions Master, "sweets gives many leave to wonder if you haven't lost your sanity all together."

Albus raised a busy white eyebrow, "Really Severus," he chided, "I'm not that decrepit. After all I can still keep a few steps ahead of you."

"Touché," Severus said blandly, having given up all hope of distracting Albus from the purpose of his visit.

Hermione, who had chosen wisely to retreat to her work, stifled a smile at the exchange. Apparently the upper form students were not the only ones who were certain that Albus Dumbledore had a few screws loose.

"Now what's this Miss Ganger was saying about your scar hurting?" Albus returned to business with the dogged assiduousness that had been the basis of every rumor of his being in Gryffindor.

"It was nothing." Severus said.

Hermione turned suddenly to protest only to catch a look in his bottomless black eyes that clearly told her to stay out of it. She returned his gaze with one of righteous indignation before turning her attention to the potions ingredients she was preparing.

"Miss Granger does not agree," Albus said, his blue eyes twinkling in merriment. "Gryffindors do not share your skill of concealing emotions, especially not surprise. Shall I simply ask her what transpired?"

Glowering more savagely than ever Severus cast a desperate glance towards the door wishing it was that simple to escape the conversant blue of Dumbledore's ever-gleaming eyes. "As I said, it was nothing. The Dark Lord is... unimpressed, with Potter's sudden demise. He was simply expressing himself." He cast a furtive look at Hermione, furious that she would be privy to this information. 'He may trust her, but she's a student,' he thought bitterly, 'a nosy, irritating Gryffindor student at that.'

With an understanding nod Dumbledore turned to Hermione, "Under the circumstances it would be best, Miss Granger, if you were to complete this detention at another time. I trust you to set up another time tomorrow in which you can complete these tasks."

Hermione nodded her head in acquiescence. She was disappointed that the staff still obviously didn't trust her to keep secrets, but then, this was Snape who despised her and all her friends so she shouldn't have been surprised. She began to tidy the equipment she had laid out, but a look from Dumbledore sent her scurrying from the room, leaving the mess for someone else to clean.

Once Hermione had left the room Severus allowed himself to relax. The headmaster would not be satisfied until he had wrenched every gruesome detail from Severus' memory, so there was no point in fighting him.

"There are but two things I need to know Severus." Dumbledore's face was grave, "One, how often this has pain been occurring, and two, what it is about Harry's death angers Voldemort."

Severus smiled derisively, "You would pick at least one impossible question." He sighed and, leaning his head back so that it rested against the leather back of his chair, took a moment to gather his thoughts into a coherent pattern.

"The answer to your first question is an easy one. Voldemort punishes me when he is angry but not angry enough to bother with my tiresome presence long enough for a decent bout of torture. This probably happens about once a week now; it was less frequent a few weeks ago so he must have received some new information today.

"As for your second question... I don't have anything other than half- formed speculations." He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck in a distracted gesture. "I know he had focused almost the entirety of his anger towards the boy after the many times Harry foiled his assassination attempts. I also know that he would not even allow for his Death Eaters to kill the boy, I assumed he wanted to keep that pleasure for himself." Grimacing Severus reached to rifle through some papers on the corner of his desk. "Somewhere... ah, here it is," he held out a worn piece of parchment for Albus to see. "That was my order at the beginning of the year, and the reason that I am to blame for Potter's death."

Albus gave him a sharp look, "There was nothing you could –"

"I know," Severus cut him off abruptly, "and there's no cause for worry. I don't blame myself, but the Dark Lord does and unfortunately that has to be what governs my thought process right now."

Albus finished reading the parchment and looked sadly at the young man seated across from him, "Would you have done it?" he asked, his voice tired.

"I didn't have a choice," Severus replied sadly, "and if I did I might have anyhow. If I managed it as he wanted, it could have ensured our victory."

Albus' hands shook as he laid the parchment back onto the desk. "Were you going to tell me?"

"No." Severus answered simply and honestly, "you would have tried to save us both and it would have cost us everything."
---

Hermione propped a pair of pillows against the headboard and leaned against them, wiggling slightly to get comfortable. Her mother called this habit nesting, and it was an appropriate term. First Hermione would surround herself with pillows, packing them tightly around her body, and then she would pull a blanket around her shoulders and another over her legs. She would sit in the same position for hours; it was her favorite position for reading.

Having her own room had made a very big difference in Hermione's study habits. Without the distracting presence of her roommates she could read until all hours without being either told to shut off the light, or questioned about the nature of her reading materials. In fifth year this had been her saving grace. Finally her mind had been allowed to be properly stimulated, even if it did cost her hours of sleep.

Tonight she had several large tomes, curtsey of the restricted section, which she planned to go over before attempting to sleep. Her nights had been troubled ones ever since the attack on her parent's home that summer and the nightmares had only intensified after Harry's death. Now, on top of the images of her home in flames and the sound of her parent's screams she could see Harry's face, with his pale, blue-tinged skin and vacant eyes. She woke up screaming every time.

She had taken to reading herself into an anesthetizing exhaustion every night. It hadn't stopped the nightmares, but at least they couldn't last as long if she only went to sleep a few hours before dawn. Hermione had thought about using a dreamless sleep potion to gain a few nights of solid, restful sleep. Unfortunately she was unable to make the potion herself, not from lack of skill, but from lack of materials. The potion was simple enough, but the ingredients necessary were neither affordable nor easy to come by. Asking for a vial of the potion from Madame Pomfery was completely unthinkable; the medi-witch worried enough about the students' health without Hermione adding to that burden. Besides that, Hermione was a firm believer in autonomy.

The first book in Hermione's pile was a comprehensive compilation of everything the Wizarding world knew about the origins for the three Unforgivable curses. The second book was a continuation on the same theme; a complete précis of every known prevention, treatment and defense to the Unforgivables. Needless to say the second book was less than a third of the size of the other. The other books in her substantial pile were older books on the same subjects, many of which had been referenced in the newer volumes.

It had taken Hermione weeks to gather this collection, after all Madame Pince wasn't likely to just let her walk out with a stack of books that many of the teachers hadn't even read. So instead of signing the books out Hermione had reduced their size and slid them into an inner pocket in her robe and then signed out a tamer book. Eventually the missing volumes would be found out, but for now they provided an excellent distraction.

Rule breaking was no more pleasant for Hermione now than it had been in First Year. She tried to avoid it whenever possible, but with her mind in the state of nervous panic that it was and the inevitable war with Voldemort approaching she had decided that knowledge was more vital than obedience. Just as she had with Harry and his kamikaze missions to save the world Hermione's actions were governed only by her own sense and not by what was expected of her. Fortunately those two went hand-in-hand more often than not.

Completely immersed in her reading Hermione didn't hear the insistent knocking on her door until Sarah, the woman in the painting that hung there, came to the painting in her bedroom and called to her. "Miss, there's a young man at the door. He says it's urgent." Sarah made a face of discuss, he told me he's break down the door if I didn't come fetch you."

Hermione smiled hazily, her mind still caught up in her book. "Thank you," she replied, her tone bland. She made no move to rise and the portrait gave an indignant huff before disappearing from sight. The sound of knocking – more accurately pounding – broke her from the reading induced trance and she moved to the door, only then registering what the portrait had said.

"About bloody time!" Ron's face was as red as his hair as he pushed past her into her room and sat heavily on the only chair.

Vaguely confused at his presence Hermione said nothing, simply moving to sit on the bed.

"Well?" Ron asked, obviously impatient.

"Well what?" Now Hermione was very confused. She ought to know why he was here, that much she knew, but she didn't have a clue.

"What are we going to do?"

"About what?" irritated by her confusion Hermione's tone was sharper than she had intended it to be.

"About what she asks," Ron muttered bitterly to himself. "About Ginny of course!" from his exasperated tone and the lightning bolts of fury radiating from his eyes Hermione gathered that this meeting had been her idea.

"I'm sorry Ron," she said, smiling tentatively, "I completely forgot."

"You forgot?"

'Oh great, now he's skeptical' Hermione grit her teeth. "Yes. I am human you know."

"She admits her fault!" Ron's comment would have been gleeful but for that flat, empty look in his eyes.

"Will you stop being childish for one moment and remind me how this meeting was supposed to go?" Hermione snapped, fuming.

"You told me --" Ron had to stop himself mid-sentence in order to get the volume of his voice back under his control. "You told me to come here tonight around ten, because that's when Snape would let you off detention, and we would talk about what to do with Ginny."

"Oh."

"Obviously you've changed you mind," Ron said, his anger having disappeared, leaving him listless. "I understand, she's my sister, it's my problem to deal with." He stood, "sorry for wasting your time."

"Ron!" Hermione cried as he turned to leave. "Ron, wait!"

Without a backwards glance he walked out of her room, slamming the door shut behind him. Hermione threw herself onto the bed spread, letting out a scream of frustration before bursting into tears.
---

Severus had often fantasized about what his life could have been, if he had not given in to the lures of Voldemort. His youthful indiscretions had caused him and many others so much pain, and, no matter how badly he yearned, he could never take it back.

At eighteen, bored and arrogant wasn't a recipe for success and Severus – at least as a youth – hadn't been one to ignore the promptings of fate. He, much like Hermione, had never struggled with his school work. His worst subject had been transfiguration, the single-minded form of magic it required had been uninteresting to his rapid mind at best – but he had still managed to stay near the top of the class with very little effort. Potions, of course, had been his best subject for the very opposite reason that Transfiguration was his worst. Potions required the use of the senses coupled with a subtle channel of magic and impeccable timing, it fascinated him thoroughly.

By the beginning of Seventh Year Severus could have gotten a better than decent mark on every one of his NEWTs and so, bored with the tediousness of his classes, he began to look outside the protective alls of Hogwarts for something, anything, to occupy and challenge his mind. That was why he had fallen so easily for Voldemort's tempting offers.

The idea of limitless knowledge combined with youthful ignorance that told him that he would be able to take what he wanted from Voldemort and escape unscathed had sold him on the idea the moment Lucius Malfoy had mentioned it to him. The older boy had it all, confidence and power to go with the familial riches. Severus had the riches, not that anyone would know, but the confidence had been meticulously shattered by a group of self- important Gryffindors and the power that went with self-confidence had eluded him for his entire life.

The turn to darkness had been swift. One day Severus was a troubled young Slytherin with tremendous potential but a debilitating chip on his shoulder, the next he was an ambitious Death Eater who believed that he held the knowledge of the world in one hand and his destiny in the other. It had taken him less than a month to realize the enormity of his mistake.

The transition back from dark to light had not been so swift, or so simple. Severus had spent a miserable year in Voldemort's clutches before going to Dumbledore on his knees, preferring the thought of a life in Azkaban than that of one more hour in servitude to the lunatic who had once been another troubled young Slytherin with tremendous potential but a debilitating ship on his shoulder.

When Dumbledore had given him the option of redeeming himself through spy work he had jumped at it. Though nothing would ever change the horrible things he had done in that year he thought that maybe the information he would be able to feed the Order would be enough to absolve his guilty mind.

On Halloween night, 1981, Severus was fed the biggest piece of help he could have imagined. Voldemort was going to attack the Potters. Pettigrew, their secret keeper had revealed their location. The deed would be done swiftly, but the Order had time to prevent it if they acted immediately.

Severus would never forget that night. He had come bursting into Dumbledore's office, his hair – which had been a point of pride at the point in his life – a tangled mess about his head, his breath coming in short pants. "Pettigrew's betrayed the Potters!" he panted dropping into the empty chair in front of the headmaster.

"How can this be?" Dumbledore looked curious.

Severus had blanched, this was enormous news and the headmaster seemed nonplussed and possibly even skeptical. "There was a meeting this morning," he elaborated, "the Dark Lord was furious at our recent failures and the Peter told him that the Potters had made him their secret keeper. The attack is set for seven this evening."

"Pettigrew's not the Potter's secret keeper Severus." Dumbledore said, giving him a patronizing smile. "I'm afraid you must be mistaken."

"I'm NOT mistaken!" Severus said hotly, rising to his feet. "You'll see in the morning, and you'll be sorry."

Later Severus had been remorseful of his harsh words. As much as he had hated James he had never wished this upon him. But the fury at Dumbledore took years to fade. His disappointment at the man's doubt and condescension was not the type that could be erased.

----
Hermione wiped her eyes savagely on the edge of her comforter. It wasn't doing anyone any good for her to be wallowing like this. The bout of tears had left her with a vicious migraine and she eyed her bed with longing. Unfortunately she knew she would have to settle for an Advil, she was out of pain-relief potion and she needed to talk to Ron.

She found him sitting, staring into the orange flames of the common room fire. She took the place across from him and they spent an awkward moment staring at each other before Ron broke the silence.

"I supposed you've come to apologize?" His voice betrayed a lingering anger.

Hermione swallowed once hard and then repeated the motion. His arrogant assumption that he had been right had slaughtered the sympathetic comment she had wanted to make. "Actually no," she said, indulging in a semi-evil smirk when he gaped at her. "I did nothing wrong. You overreacted." Ron was still staring open mouthed and Hermione continued, "I rather believe that it is you who owes an apology to me, but if you're not man enough I understand." Inwardly Hermione cringed, that last line had been over the top, but she was angry.

"You-You- WHAT?!?!" Ron stammered incoherently before standing to his full height and glowering down at her. "What do you want me to apologize for Hermione? Harry's death? Ginny's depression? The fact that I give a shit about any of my family? What?" He turned his back to her, trembling with rage. "You know, I don't care. Just get out."

Hermione stared at him, her cinnamon eyes filling once again with tears that she thought she had finished with earlier. "I'm not leaving Ron."

"Fine! I will." In a few long strides he slipped out of the portrait hall, leaving Hermione alone with her guilty-misery.

"Good job," she muttered sarcastically to herself. "Now he'll feel better for sure."

Ron stormed through the halls, his eyes blazing with anger. How could Hermione this that? All he'd done was try and take care of his sister and now she was furious at him, well at least that feeling was mutual. Rounding a corner Ron saw an astounding sight.

Ginny, he knew it was her by the hair, was kissing (!?!?! A/N: I usually try to avoid that type of thing, but you must understand Ron's shock/confusion/anger at the sight) a vaguely familiar silver haired boy. With a frustrated growl that sounded somewhat like a cat hocking up a hairball Ron threw his hands up in frustration and walked back the way he had come. How could Ginny do that to Harry? To her family? To her friends? This settled it, he thought as he wove his way through the corridors barley noticing where his angry strides were carrying him, if she wouldn't talk to him then he had no choice but to pull out the heavy artillery.

In about ten minutes he was back in his dorm. He grabbed a piece of parchment and sat down to write. Five minutes and three quills later he had finished his note.

A/N: Reminder... the more you review the more likely I'll be inspired to write... my muse likes feedback even more than I do. ( grins My friends keep telling me to pimp my fictions more., so... visit my LJ grins deviously I'll give you cookies if you do, just tell me which story you're reading in your comment. ( As you can see I'm not above bribery. winks I am trying to post this story at approximately the same rate as Emerald (its parallel) so I will do my best... but updates will be painfully slow.

About Dumbledore, I have nothing against the man, but I do think that he had a tendency to hold to one individual fact too tightly and not consider the possibilities.

To the individuals who inspire me to continue with this:

Melwasul – unfortunately no...I don't usually update very quickly. No matter how well I plan my stories I can't write without my muse and RL can be a hassle. I am usually lucky if I can get one chapter from any of my stories completed within a month. Fortunately I was on spring break when I started this one, so I've made a promising start... hopefully it will be smooth sailing, but if I don't update for months it doesn't mean I've abandoned the story. I'll reappear eventually, I always do.

On-A-Rainy-Day – Thank you!! I haven't given up on either of my other stories... my muse is simply taking a well deserved vacation, and I haven't retrieved my latest work on them from my other computer yet. I'm so glad you are enjoying this fiction, I think it will hold my interest longer than the others because as much fun as those characterizations of Hermione and Severus are fun to write the characterizations in the fiction don't quite match up the ones that I have in my head, but I think these ones do, at least they do so far.

Jinxd n cursed – Thanks for your review. I'm so flattered that one of my stories made you like the pairing... I was unfortunate enough to get hooked on this pairing by a story that had been abandoned half-way through... I'll do my best not to leave you in that spot

N- Thank you for your review of Chapter 1... It made me smile. Some random substitute wrote that (keep on truckin) in my yearbook once and your review reminded me of that laughs

F75 – Also, thanks for your review of Chapter 1... I hope you do decide to read Emerald; I would love to hear which version of the story you think is better.

jz - Thanks for your review. I think the characters are what will either make or break this story so I'm glad you enjoy them.

Deb – I'm so happy you're enjoying this fiction. As for the rest... as much as I would like to answer your questions, you'll just have to wait and see. Although I'll just point out the fact that I'm ignoring the prophesy from book five, since this story was thought of long before that came out, so Voldie is still capable of dieing, though whether he will or not here remains a question.

Lama – Thanks for your review!

Bronwyn – Thanks you so much for reading and reviewing!

points to above text see? I love your reviews so much I even respond to them. grins

oh.. and to those who are wondering about my other fics.. Such as To See You Smile which I promised to update ASAP. I'm doing my best but the last chapter is proving to be harder than I thought it would be to write. I will try to get it out before Grad activities start for real, but I've learned not to promise anything.