A/N: And here it is, the very last chapter. sigh Well, it's been a lot of fun writing this, and I want to thank all you wonderful people who have read and reviewed. You've been great. Enjoy.

Chapter 36 – The End, Part 2

Harry slowly turned his gaze away from the door, through which Hermione and Snape had just left. The anger that had been boiling inside him ever since he found out about their thing (he refused to call it "relationship") had just been oddly inflated. He felt like all energy had left him, like he just didn't care anymore. God, he felt so tired…

"What will happen to her now?" He directed the words to the empty air, more like a voiced thought than an actual question. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know, didn't know if he could bear the guilt if it was something really bad.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Harry," Dumbledore's soft voice came from behind his desk. "I hate to keep you in the dark, and I know I promised you after last year that I wouldn't do it again, but in this case, giving you the details could be very dangerous. Your skills at Occlumency are improving, but your mind is not yet capable of keeping information from Voldemort should he actively search for it. The connection between you is too strong and he is a superb Legillimens, as you already know. I'm afraid I cannot tell you this." He sighed deeply and stood up, walking over to the cabinet where he kept his Pensieve.

Harry watched his movements and tried to get his resolve to overcome his curiosity. Dumbledore was right, he couldn't protect his mind against Voldemort. Overestimating his abilities had lead to Sirius's death. He did not want to be responsible for Hermione's as well. Humility was a difficult lesson to learn, but he knew he had to. He might be the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived, and he just might save the wizarding world from Voldemort, but he still had things to learn before he would be ready. He tended to forget that, he knew, tended to think with his heart rather than his head. Perhaps he should try to be more like Hermione, he thought, try to be calm, analysing… He sighed deeply - accepting his own weaknesses and trying to work on diminishing them was just so hard.

Dumbledore, in the meantime, had brought forth the Pensieve and put it on his desk. He was studying something in it with great concentration, mumbling to himself with narrowed eyebrows. Harry just sat back and waited, breathing deeply, trying to clear his mind. He would have to work even harder on his Occlumency now, he realised.

The Headmaster pulled away from the Pensieve and looked at him. He looked very old and very tired, but there was a hopeful burning spark in his eyes. They both looked at each other for a while before the older man spoke.

"There's something I must ask of you, Harry," he said in an apologetic voice.

"Go on."

"As I said, your mind isn't yet strong enough to keep your thoughts and knowledge completely safe from Voldemort, and since you are his most direct target, it would be quite unwise for your mind to hold all the information of the ritual and…" he faltered, "…relating issues."

"So you want to Obliviate me?" Harry asked, doing his best to keep anger from rising in his voice again.

"No, Harry, I don't want to Obliviate you," Dumbledore said with a tired look on his face. "You know too much, and a Memory Charm under these circumstances would need to be very powerful to work. It wouldn't be safe, I couldn't risk you."

"But –"

"Ron and Ginny Weasley didn't require anywhere near as strong charms as you would," he interrupted before Harry even had the time to get the angry accusation out. "They will both be quite alright, I promise you."

"Then what is your plan?" Harry asked, arms crossed over his chest in a defensive stance.

"I want you to take a Somnium Potion," Dumbledore said gently. "Professor Snape is probably brewing some as we speak, for Miss Granger's sake. The Somnium Potion will cloud the knowledge and feelings which need to be protected in the dream section of your mind. To an outsider, it will look like a memory of a dream, slightly erratic and clouded as dreams usually are. You alone will be able to gain access to the entire memory and be able to separate it from memories of real dreams. In the beginning it will be unfocused, but with mental training, you'll be able to access it like any normal memory or stored information. In addition, all new information or development of the information hidden with the Somnium Potion will automatically be stored with the same kind of magical encryption. This means that you will be able to further research the ritual and practice Channelling Charms without problem. It's the best solution I could think of – well, actually, it was Professor Snape who came up with it, but it's really a very good plan, Harry."

"It's not like I have a choice, is it?" Harry said, still angry.

"No, I'm afraid you don't," Dumbledore replied in a low voice.

They sat in silence for another couple of minutes before Harry gave a curt nod and Dumbledore visibly relaxed a little. Walking over to the fireplace, he threw a pinch of emerald green powder in the flames and stuck in his head. He pulled out a little while later and turned to face his young student.

"The potion will be ready in about two hours, Severus tells me. He will send it directly to your chambers through the Floo network. Make sure you take it before going to sleep, it would be a shame if Voldemort got hold of your mind now that we are so close to hiding this information from him."

"Will do, sir," Harry said with a tired shrug and got out of the chair, sensing that the session was over. "Should I bring Ginny along to Occlumency tomorrow night?"

"Please do, and Mr Weasley as well, I think." Harry turned and walked towards the door, but just as he opened it and prepared to step over the threshold, Dumbledore's voice made him turn his head back again.

"Oh, and Harry…"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

With a small smile on his face, Harry Potter left the office.

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In his personal lab, Severus Snape was hard at work. Three cauldrons simmered before him as he added ingredients with absolute precision. Hermione was standing at another worktable, chopping, grinding and dicing according to his information. She had removed the blue silk skirt and put on a set of normal, black work robes. One of his, and he couldn't help noticing the sensual way she wrapped the fabric closer against her, inhaling his scent and smiling sadly. She still hadn't asked about the plan Dumbledore had conceived for her. Hadn't spoken at all since they left his office, actually. He wondered if her composure was genuine or just a surface act that would fall apart eventually. He found himself wishing for time to stop and the night to go on forever, just as he had as a small child, sitting alone in the attic. Dawn would deal a cruel blow, he knew, and he hoped he would be able to take it without flinching.

The cauldrons simmered serenely, the wispy fumes just the right colour. It was time to add the final ingredients and to adapt each brew to the needs of each person. Drawing his wand, he walked first to Harry Potter's cauldron.

Potter needed to hide knowledge, first and foremost. His feelings of disgust and dislike in relation to him would only be of good, should the Dark Lord break into his mind. The more Potter hated him, the safer he would be from his Master. Plus, he loved making the little brat miserable. Grinning, he added a few magical substances and then waved his wand, concentrating hard on all the memories the potion should envelop in the boy's mind. When finished, the potion had turned a deep shade of green. Perfect.

He walked over to Hermione's cauldron next. The same substances to entrap knowledge were added, but then he hesitated slightly, weighing two similar crystals in his hands. Both would affect her emotions, but one – rose pink in colour – would remove only the deepest layer of feelings, whereas the other – deep red – would remove all memory of any deeper feeling she held for him. She would still feel desire, and her body would still crave and respond to his the way it had over the past week. He would still be able to largely please her in bed, but the emotional dimension would be gone. He would never again see that deep glow in her eyes, never hear her whisper she loved him in that breathless voice that made a strange quiver go through him… He just stood there, for a long time, unable to make his decision. Finally, he closed his eyes hard, took a deep breath and let the red crystal slip into the shimmering liquid. He quickly finished the spellwork and turned his attentions to the last potion – his own.

Also here did he hesitate for a minute. He didn't add the knowledge-related substances, for he knew that his skill at Occlumency was largely sufficient to keep those memories from the Dark Lord. It didn't take that much skill to hide an information-related secret, it was hiding feelings, emotions and instincts that was the hard part. Should he actually fall in love with Hermione, it would be nearly impossible to hide it. The Dark Lord might not understand love, but he wasn't so dense that he didn't recognise it. Quite the opposite, discovering a person's desires and emotional weaknesses was rather a speciality of his. If Dumbledore's plan was to work, the only permissible feeling he and Hermione could share was physical desire. Plain and simple. Still, he didn't want to cloud his mind like this. Out of all the memories from the past week, those of Hermione's love and how he'd responded to it were the most precious ones to him. He'd caught a glimpse of a world where light didn't necessarily mean pain. She'd shown him that he still had a softer side, or at least could have if he let her work on him for a while longer. At the same time, those feelings actually scared him to an extent that not many other things did. Things were simpler before, and now he could have that simplicity back. Why was he even debating this with himself? It was the best option all-around. It would keep him safe, her safe, the bloody Order safe, and, sadly, the infuriating Potter-boy safe. It would give him back the control he'd lost when with her. Things would be easier. With a determined look on his face, he added the same kind of red crystal to his own cauldron and ended the process with some work with his wand. He looked at the three potions: deep green, deep red and transparent purple, just the way they should be.

He bottled the potions into six flasks – two for each colour – sent one green sample up to Potter's room through the Floo, locked one of each into a small chest, which he sent in a similar fashion to Dumbledore's office, and placed the remaining two flasks on an empty work table before cleaning up. With a tilt of his head, he motioned for Hermione to join him in the bedroom, where he went with the potion. He heard her feet softly clap against the stone behind him as they walked through a small hallway.

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"So?"

"So, what?"

"So, what will happen when I drink this?" she said carefully, walking over to the fireplace.

"Well, essentially, every deeper emotion you feel for me, which is not desire, all memory of these feelings and all knowledge concerning the ritual will be clouded and put in the dream section of your mind," he said, watching her movements carefully, wondering what her reaction would be.

"Oh." She stiffened a little and kept her head down, half turned away from him. "Will you remember?" He didn't have to ask her to specify, the question was crystal clear in all its ambiguity.

"No, it will all stay at the back or our minds like the memory of a dream. We will be aware of the memory but unable to actually touch it, unless we really want or need to. There are certain techniques to access a clouded memory and I've made sure that we will always have the information we need, when we need it."

"How?"

"I'll still have the knowledge of the ritual present in my mind. I'm strong enough to protect it from anyone trying to break into it. I can release that information in you and Harry, help you reactivate your memories, when the time comes. If you prove satisfactory at Occlumency, I will give you back those memories as soon as I deem you skilled enough to protect them."

"And… the other?"

"There is a way," he said softly, "a potion can be brewed from the original sample that will work as an antidote. It will completely negate the effects of this potion and give you back all memories, just as they were before the Clouding took place. Dumbledore has the chest with these samples, and he alone will know where they are. It was part of the bargain we struck, a means for him to ensure I won't betray him at the last moment."

"You betray him and he'll give your memories back, open for Voldemort to see, and you would be killed," she stated, still not looking at him.

"Exactly."

"What did you get in return?" she asked.

"His promise that if we both make it through the war, the "good" side wins and the Dark Lord is defeated, he will hand the samples over to me, to do with as you and I see fit," he declared, watching her intently.

Slowly, she turned her face, her hazel eyes meeting his own with a careful, hopeful expression.

"You mean, one day –"

"Technically, yes, though I doubt that either of us would want to go there, should the time come. I don't believe that either of us will change much, not deep down, and tell me honestly, Hermione, would you, faced with the conscious and emotional-free choice, choose to love me, knowing what our future would be like? It would be a fool's choice, and, if anything, I've never thought you a fool." He stood right in front of her now, his body inches from hers, his hand longing to touch her as he forced them to be still behind his back.

"No, I probably wouldn't choose you under those circumstances, Severus," she said with a trembling voice, "and the worst part is that I fear that it would be the biggest mistake of my life, and I would make it without even being aware of that!" She raised her hand and stroked him gently with her fingertips along his face, brushing away a strand of black hair. "I know you don't love me, and I know that you wish you'd never been stuck with me in the first place, but I can't help feeling that we could have something really great together. I love you, Severus. I didn't even know it was possible to feel this way. I've never been overly romantic, you know, not really. I had some foolish, childish dreams about what love would be like, taken from fairy tales and other girls' stories, but this is nothing like that. This is real. When I'm with you, it's painful and frustrating and uncertain, but it's the most happy and at peace I've ever been. When I wake up in the night, and see you sleeping next to me, there's this deep glow in my heart, a feeling of being right where I'm supposed to be. I don't love you so that you will love me back, I don't love you to gain anything. I don't even love you for my own pleasure. I just do."

"Hermione, I –"

"Shh, you don't need to say anything." She led him over to the table and picked up the two flasks, handing him the purple and uncorking the red. "How long before it takes effect?"

"One hour, and you should be asleep when it does, to make the transition easier, so there's a sleeping component in it assuring that you will be," he said, uncorking his own flask. He felt like there was something important he needed to tell her, but no words came to him. He held the flask in a cramp-like grip as he raised it in the way of a toast. "To a botched-up love potion," he said, the spark in his eye mixed with complete seriousness. "This has been an incredible week, Hermione, in every way."

"To a botched-up love potion," she echoed, tears threatening to escape her eyes as they both threw back the potion. Holding the empty flasks, they looked back into each other's eyes and Hermione first articulated the mutual thought.

"Take me to bed, Severus," she whispered, letting her flask fall to the floor, where it shattered into a thousand pieces, and stepping into his arms. Without a word, he swept her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed.

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He put her down on the rumpled sheets and lay down at her side, looking into her face. He slowly moved one hand along her body, undoing buttons and letting the robes fall open to reveal the silver lingerie she still wore. Placing wet kisses along her throat and collarbone, he made his way towards her neck and upper back, rolling her over on her stomach to get better access to the laces of her corset. He undid them with one hand, the other caressing lower, stroking her ass and thighs, while his lips continued to travel over her soft skin. She didn't make a sound, but the way her body trembled told him she was incredibly tense. He sincerely hoped she wouldn't cry. He hated and despised crying women, unless, of course, it was he who'd purposely made them cry, in which case it made him feel very powerful.

He pulled the laces out of the last couple of holes and removed the corset altogether. The silk laces still in his hand, he ran them across her body experimentally. She gasped and rolled over on her back, facing him.

"So, what shall I do with you, Miss Granger?" he asked silkily, letting the fabric circle her breasts and snake down her stomach. She moaned and then murmured something indistinguishable. He leaned down so that his lips almost touched her face, almost brushing the soft tiny hairs of her cheek.

"Pardon? I'm afraid you'll have to enunciate a lot better than that if you want to have a chance of achieving your goals," he whispered, taking extra care to tease the soft flesh at her neck as his lips wandered south. Two hands grabbed his face a few inches from her right breast and pulled him north again to face her.

"I don't care. I just want to feel you," she whispered, lips almost trembling as she pulled him close for a kiss.

He grinned to himself as an idea of what he would like to do to her formed in his head. Distracting her with hungry kisses, which became steadily more heated, he stroked the skin on the inside of her arms, first one, then the other, moving them slowly until both her hands were placed above her head. With equal nonchalance, he grabbed the laces from her corset and tied her to the headboard of the bed with swift, expert movements. Hermione let out a gasp and opened her eyes to give him a look that was half fear, half arousal when she realised what he'd done. She opened her mouth to protest, but he quickly silenced her with another searing kiss.

"You said you wanted to feel," he said, playing with the sensitive skin on the inside of her arms, "and the best way to do it is to block out the other senses…" Reaching over to the bedside table, he withdrew a black silk scarf and carefully tied it over her eyes. "Relax," he whispered, stroking the tense muscles in her shoulders and arms, "I assure you that you will like it."

She let out a little laugh, "I'm sure I will. I actually had a dream like this once."

"Did you now?" he replied with a chuckle. "My, my, the proper Gryffindor Head Girl… Who would have thought?"

"Yes, a kinky dream would undoubtedly be the most shocking part of my recent behaviour," she said in sarcastic tones, inhaling sharply as his mouth wandered down across her stomach, one hand circling her breast teasingly.

"Tell me about the dream, Hermione."

At first, she hesitated, embarrassed to talk about it, but he insisted and she shakingly began to tell the story of the unseen man. He re-enacted the dream as she spoke, rolling her on top of him, her back to his front, to give the illusion that he was standing behind her. Following every detail of her story, he let his hands play with her sensitive flesh until she trashed on top of him, stimulating all his sensitive areas with her wriggling, as he kissed her hard to silence her moans, just like she'd told him to.

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Sometime later, she was resting against him, unbound, her head on his chest, his arms around her. She was starting to feel very sleepy and guessed the hour must be almost up. She half panicked and looked up into Severus's face. His eyes were closed, and judging from his deep and even breathing, he was either asleep or well on his way there. No! It couldn't end here! Not after this, not after what he'd just said!

She thought back, trying to remember. Everything was so clouded, all warped up in a haze of colours and sounds and emotions. She concentrated on those last moments of their lovemaking, the tension building, Severus moving hard on top of her, the ragged breathing and mindless sounds that escaped them both, his eyes looking deeply into hers, burning, changing, so black… words swirling in her head, I love you, love you, love you, going in circles, building, changing… her heart beating hard and fast, his joining the same rhythm, her lips moving, words escaping her, not caring, getting closer and closer, seeing the same thing in his eyes, tension building, her head trashing from side to side, feeling her muscles tense up, her hands holding him so hard it should be painful, not caring… crying out, waves breaking, head swirling, unaware of what's real and what's not, lights dancing before her eyes, him still moving, taking her further, light changing to colours, to black, back to colour… and then, her own voice, like from a place far away, "I love you… mine… Severus…love you… can't –" His voice mixing with hers, barely recognisable through the haze surrounding her, "Hermione… gods… so soft… mine-", before capturing her lips, kissing her like he's never kissed her before, collapsing on top of her, fighting for air, still kissing her… his hands coming up to touch her face, her hair, such a tender touch… opening her eyes, meeting his, seeing that same deep she's seen in them once before, not being able to place it, the look doesn't make sense, hearing her own breathless voice again, almost a whisper, "I love you. It's you and me. Forever."

"Forever," he echoes, taking her lips again as she whirls into oblivion.

The scene replayed in her mind again and again, as she tried to make sense of it all. What had he meant? What did he feel? Would it even matter now that the clocked ticked and the potion would end all in just a few minutes? Her eyelids felt like lead and her limbs were heavy and immobile. Her mind was getting hazier by the minute and she had difficulty keeping her train of thought.

"Severus!" Her voice didn't want to work either and she forced her tongue into motion.

"Hrm?" a deep growl came from above her head.

"There's something I just need to know," she said, blackness now filling the edges of her vision as she fought against the narcotics in her system.

"What is it?" His voice sounded strained as well, though more awake than her own, she thought. Steeling herself, she managed to get the four trembling words out.

"Do you love me?"

He went very still, even his breathing seemed to stop as he contemplated her question. The silence grew while he searched his mind and heart, the moment of truth upon him as well as upon her.

When the whispered answer left his lips, she was already asleep.

THE END

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A/N: Ok, poll: how many think that ending is pure evil and how many think it's evil but plain wonderful? :-) My favourite story ending is Animal Farm after all. To me a good ending is black, ambiguous and leaves something up for the imagination. hehe. So, what did old Severus actually say in the end? And does it matter now that neither will be able to remember their feelings? I would LOVE to get your analysis of this last chapter, please review!

Oh, and I know this story is just begging for a sequel. I might write it some day. Until then… it's been a pleasure.

/RedOrchid