Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. Honest.

A/N: Okie... seriously, I've outdone myself. The longest chapter yet. 16 pages! Phew!

Lily of the Shadow: Thanks!

Real-fan05: I love describing the picture I see in my mind. Guess that's what contributes to my 'good imagery.' Thanks!

SaintEmo: Thanks! I try to proofread my stories, but sometimes little mistakes still slip through. I am just glad there aren't too many!

Florence: Wow! I am flattered! A French fan! -dances- Thank you!

ShinHee Tae: You're pretty observant. That's right, their relationship is fragile at the moment, and there will be trials waiting for them, as you'll read in this chapter...

Ezmerelda: Hee hee. I love it when boys say one thing and do the other. They're so cute that way. Glad you like the story!

MoonlightSerenade: Thanks! I worry that my chapters are getting too long... hmmm. About the beta- it would be nice if you could proofread the previous chapters of this story. There are tons of mistakes as this is my first fic, and I simply don't have the time to do it myself. Please email me or leave a review if you can. Thank you so much!

Neko Blah Blah: Thanks. It would be nice if you could tell me specifically where to improve, and I hope you find this chapter more satisfying.

SeverusSnape'sLove: I do, and here is the update. Hope you like it.

kat: Thanks!

latinachikita: Thank you. I am glad my grammar is getting better. :)

Nova Viper: It would be nice if you could point out the places that I could improve, and thanks!

Magicalwonder: Thanks! More blending in this chapter. Hope you like it.

Lady Urquentha: SS/HG, definitely, but AD/MM... hmmm, never can be too sure about our dear Headmaster, can we? -twinkle twinkle-

momsangel: I adore Hermione's lack of knitting skill. It just proves that she is not perfect and human. And yes, I laughed at her scarf, too.

Lu Ling Qi: Here's the latest update for you! Enjoy! Just a side note, are you by any chance Chinese (as I infer from your name)?


The holidays were pleasant for Hermione. For one thing, Ron was no longer scowling at her, and Harry seemed to be in a better mood. Grimmauld Place had never been merrier. She enjoyed playing chess and knitting hats in front of the fire, and when she wasn't doing either of those things, she would be found curling up on the coach reading, listening absentmindedly to the Weasley twins bicker.

But the most gratifying part was always at night, when Severus would dropped by, occasionally bringing her some treats and the latest news in the castle. Their meetings were always brief, but Hermione was content. For the first time in months, she was happy. More than happy, even. The ecstasy she was in often left her feeling surreal.

However, as the holidays waned and the beginning of the term approached, she could feel the distinct droop in spirit at number 12, Grimmauld Place. Not only were Sirius and Harry gloomy again, even Ginny, who was always bursting with energy and tales to tell, seemed unusually quiet. Severus, being more susceptible to darkness than ordinary people, was naturally not exempted from the pervasive mood. He had already been snappish for a whole week when the last day of the holidays came.

"Miss Granger." He nodded when Hermione came down from the stairs in the morning. Apparently he had just exited from the kitchen and was on his way out of the Headquarters. She looked down at her pajamas in embarrassment, then looked back at him.

"Good morning," she greeted, hoping her voice wasn't too bleary. "I am not expecting you to be here this early."

"That much is obvious," he replied, his voice dry and waking Hermione a little. She walked up to him, noticing the coldness of the floor and regretting not having put on her slippers.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"I thought you're a morning person?"

"Not when I just spent the night in a chilly kitchen instead of where I should be, my bed."

"Something's wrong?"

"Nothing you should worry yourself about."

She felt frustration bubbling inside. Standing as tall as she could, she looked into his eyes, demanding silently.

"Fine, if you can't keep your questions to yourself," he snapped, irritation showing on his face. She was taken aback. He had not shown his more disagreeable side since they 'got together.' He seemed to realize what he had said as well, and took a deep breath before continuing.

"The Headmaster has a theory of what the Dark Lord's up to. He sees it as appropriate for me to teach Potter Occlumency for the coming semester." His tone perceptibly mellower, he inhaled again, loosening the deep frown on his face slightly.

"Occlumency..." she trailed off, wanting to ask more but thought better than to incense him further at this moment.

No wonder he was in a bad mood, she thought, unconsciously pursing her lips. He would have to spend a lot of much-valued time and energy on his least favorite student. Occlumency was not an easy art to master, after all.

"I trust you to not disclose this to Potter, for I'll be the one to do it." He pulled a sneer. "I don't want to miss the look on his face."

Hermione stood on the corridor and watched, speechless, as Severus grabbed his cloak and swept out of the house.


If she had hoped that the situation would get better when school started, Hermione was bitterly disappointed. Harry's Occlumency lessons meant that they could not meet at night under the name of 'detention' anymore.

Not that he had expressed the wish to meet me outside class at other times.

Speaking about time, she herself did not have much to spare. Keeping ahead in her classes and at the same time fulfilling her prefect duties responsibly was not easy; adding a couple of DA practices and a moody Harry into the mix, she could barely afford to sleep. Most of the time, when she submerged totally into work, she would forget her troubles and misery. The realm of studies was where she knew the rules well, where she truly felt at home, where there was no muddle.

But every night, when she was curled up under her quilt, when she was minutes from sleep, she would allow the thoughts to come to her- or rather, she could no more control them- and she would wonder. Were the days before Christmas real? Had she really been in his arms? And the question that most frequently nagged her mind even during the day- What is going to happen to us? Sadness would swept her into sleep, where sweet and bitter dreams recur and recur.

January and February came and went, and still they hadn't exchanged more than a couple of looks and greetings in the classrooms or corridors. She was at a loss of what to do, and carried on with her life absently. She had wanted to ask him about the mass breakout of Azkaban, or to tell him what she had done to get Harry an interview in The Quibbler. Sometimes she berated herself for growing dependent on him too quickly, sometimes she was angry at him for doing this to her, but most of the time she was just sad, and grew even more obsessed with her O.W.L. studying.

She ceased to talk about him with her friends, except maybe once or twice with Lavender and Ginny, and even then would not say more than a few curt sentences. Both Harry and Ron had their own troubles to deal with, and she knew better than to bother them with her petty love life, or the lack thereof. They simply assumed that she had lost interest in the greasy Potion Master, and were not hesitant to show that they were at least relieved, if not pleased.

March came as well, bringing with it warmer winds and newer drizzles, and she was glad to get rid of her thick and snug robes. However, every time she looked at the scarf on the back of her chair when she was leaving her room, she felt an acute pang of reminiscence remembering his constant pester for her to put it on.

How is he now?

She wanted to ask Harry, and was even jealous that he got to know what was on Severus' mind, but she always stopped herself seeing the shadows on the tired boy's face. The days rushed on, each one the same as the last, and still they hadn't talked, until the first Wednesday of April, two days after the Dumbledore's Army was busted and the Headmaster sacked.

She met him on her way to the library. Harry and Ron were having Divination with their new centaur professor, and she was free as Arithmancy was cancelled for the day.

"Miss Granger."

She turned to face him, her face carefully calm, though inside she was anything other than that. The mere fact that he was standing there in his usual teaching robe, and his insistence in calling her 'Miss Granger,' were enough to send her logic to the moon.

"Good morning," she greeted, getting a sense of déjà vu. The word 'professor' stayed on her tongue stubbornly- he could keep all the propriety as he liked, she sure wasn't going to deny that he was everything more than a teacher to her.

"Where are you heading, Miss Granger?"

"The library." She bit back a sarcastic reply.

"This early?"

"Yes, and if you don't mind-"

He threw the deserted corridor a quick glance, then turned back at her and lowered his voice. "I must congratulate you on the Protean Charm and the Betrayal Curse you placed on the coins you lot used in your little club."

She eyed him through narrowed slits. His had commented evenly, which was all the more suspicious.

"I never know you have mastered N.E.W.T. standard charms," he said, his tone still curiously free of bite. "Though I would have suggested a Bonding Contract, making them literally unable to leak information."

Well, you are too busy to be there to suggest anything, she thought irritably. "Well, it's got the job done."

"It's got Dumbledore dismissed."

"Are you blaming me?" She questioned dangerously.

"You could've got yourself expelled," he looked back at her with a scowl.

"Is it my fault that a toad of a woman is teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts? Is it my fault that I want to learn to protect myself?"

"You could've come to me."

"Well, when the D.A. formed you weren't even in the picture," she replied coolly. "Besides, you seem to be awfully busy, aren't you?"

He sighed at this, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "With the Headmaster gone and-"

"It's alright," she interrupted and immediately hoped that she hadn't.

"Look," he sighed again, weariness and resignation in his tone. "Come to my office tonight."

"Don't you have Occlumency lesson with Harry?"

Just then, students began to pour into the corridor. It seemed that classes were ending.

"You've earned yourself a detention, Miss Granger," he spat harshly. Hermione found herself receiving some sympathetic glances from the students, but she also noticed the glint in his pupils. "Eight o'clock at my office."

"Yes, sir," she replied, lowering her head as the Potion Master walked away, hiding the small grin on her face.


When she arrived the dungeons that evening, slightly earlier than the agreed time, she found the door to his office ajar. As curiosity took over, she pushed open the door and felt her heart stop.

Standing by his desk was Severus, his face covered with sweat and inhumanly white. Both his hands were gripping the edge of the desk with such force that his knuckles had turned into a similar shade as his face. The desk was surprisingly clear- in fact, there was nothing on it but a pensieve, and this, as Hermione glanced around the room, was not as much a surprise as she had initially thought: everything that should be on the desk, parchments, inkbottles, quills, books, were on the floor. The shelves on the walls also looked emptier than usual, and she did not need to look to know where most of the missing jars were.

He seemed not to be aware of her presence. He was glowering intently at the pensieve, as if interrogating it for the mystery of the universe. She gingerly stepped into the threshold.

Crack.

A piece of glass split beneath her heels, and the sound snapped Severus out of his reverie. His eyes were on her immediately, and they were so malicious that she took a step back on instinct. He veiled the darkness from her in a flash, but the look was printed in her mind.

"W- what's wrong?" She asked shakily, then added, "Sir?"

"Nothing, nothing!" He snarled, and began to circle the desk with his hands behind his back.

"If that's true, you wouldn't be-" she nearly bit her tongue as the word 'tantrum' flew across her mind. "-lashing out." Seeing the look on his face, she added quietly, "Do you want some tea?"

"Tea? I do not need tea." With a swift wave of his wand a bottle flew into his outstretching hand. He uncorked the bottle and downed half of its content in one gulp.

"Don't drink." She frowned remembering what happened last time he was drunk.

He slammed the bottle onto the desk with such force that it was a miracle that the glassware did not break. "Telling me what to do, are you?"

"Please don't be mad," she said steadily. "I am just trying to help."

"And how do you intend to do that, may I inquire, Miss Granger?"

"Why don't you start by telling me what's wrong?"

"What's wrong... I'll tell you what's wrong," he barked with sudden ferocity, picked up the pensieve and thrust it into her. "Look at it, look! This is what's wrong. You Griffindors just have to ask, right? Just can't keep your nose out of others' business, just can't get the idea of privacy into your heads."

"I have no wish to see your thoughts, sir!" She slammed the pensieve onto the desk the way he slammed the bottle moments ago, with such force that the silvery liquid jumped and splashed in the shallow dish.

"Your best friend," There was so much hatred in those words that Hermione flinched. "Did not find it below him to do so, apparently."

"H-Harry?"

"Yes, Harry Potter, the savior of us all." He sneered, picking up the pensieve again and offered it to her. "Don't you want to peep at them, too? My memories? Which spanking his father gave twisted him into this sadistic bastard now? Aren't your Griffindor curiosity killing you, too?"

Hermione felt sick to her stomach. "No," she whispered.

"Are you sure?" He placed the pensieve a little closer to her.

"No... I mean, yes."

"But you get to see my memories," he pushed the little dish closer still.

"I said no!"

With a rough slap she tossed the pensieve out of his hand, and watched in horror as the magical device hit the mess on the floor with a noisy clank, its silvery contents spilling and disappearing as soon as they hit the ground.

"Am I to endure more Griffindor temperament?" He drawled, his voice deadly quiet.

She felt terrible. Normally she would be thrilled to know about his past, but today this gesture of love was distorted into something detestable in both their minds.

Oh Harry, what have you done?

What have you seen?

"Whatever Harry has d-"

"You've no idea..." he was whispering now. "What Potter did- both of them- unforgivable. Why do you think I need a pensieve?" He glared at her suddenly, his face contorted with fury.

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again. Not for the first time, she realized that she really did not understand this man.

"He'll not come near me anymore, Potter," he continued in a hiss, his hand reaching for what Hermione assumed to be his wand pocket. "Because, if he as much as try, I will kill him."

She blanched. "But, b-b-but, you don't-" she lowered her voice. "You did not stop your Occlumency lessons with Harry, did you?"

"I don't give a damn shit about Potter's mind," he replied nastily. "The Dark Lord can foul with it as much as he likes."

"But, Dumbledore said-"

"I don't care what the Headmaster say!" If anything, the mention of Dumbledore seemed to enrage him further. "It is his fault that I am placed in this predicament!"

Hermione had only once seen him lost control and became the irrational being that he was now, and that was two years ago. Her voice noticeably steelier, she said, "I am sure Dumbledore will appreciate being blamed by someone whom he clearly trusts enough to assign the job of teaching Harry Occlumency, and to have the worry of Voldemort racking through Harry's mind add to his already heavy burden, while he is being kicked out of Hogwarts, fleeing from the Ministry, and having to manage the Order's business."

"He ordered me to tutor the insufferably conceited boy."

"Did he order you to leave your pensieve unattended, too?"

"Only the dastardly Griffindors would go around poking their heads into others' pensieves, attended or not!"

"Only Slytherins would mind to have their sullied, obnoxious thoughts be revealed!"

They were openly shouting now, throwing insults of blind rage and jealousy and frustration, words that tore at their flesh, marking wounds that could not be healed later, and not caring.

"Harry will not learn Occlumency, and Voldemort-" She shuddered. "Voldemort will crawl in his brain and discover the Order's secrets."

"Potter himself doesn't seem to care very much about that!"

"And he'll know your secret too. He'll know you've lived the Slytherin's motto to the fullest, a sly traitor!"

"I am glad you think so highly about me, Miss Granger," his voice was poisonous. "Traitor, yes, yes, I am flattered. What else, Miss Granger? What else am I to you? A bastard of a professor?"

She burst into tears. "Apparently, that's the only part you are willing to play!"

"Don't you dare having an asthma attack," he said warningly at her ragged breathing.

"What if I do, Master Snape? Are you going to give me a detention?"

The title stung. He took a menacing step towards her, causing her to took one back in alarm. The candles in the dungeon flickered madly. Through her tears, she could see his scarcely controlled fury emanating off his tall stature.

"You don't understand," he hissed, pointing with one bony finger at the door. "You never will. Out! Out!"

She gathered herself as much as possible, and scurried out of the room. As the door slammed behind her, she heard a horrifying sound of crash, very, very much similar to the sound of shattering of her heart.


As soon as the door was slammed close and quivered on its hinges, the jars on the shelf nearest to him exploded at the same time, and the candles flickered dead. He slid slowly onto the floor, leaning against his desk. His left hand landed on some broken glass, but he didn't much care. The aloof part of his brain reminded him that he would have to replace his entire collection of fungi.

He had not lost control of his magic for a long time. In fact, the last time he did something like this was probably twenty-odd years ago, when he was still a student. His life as a student was not remotely pleasant- as Potter tonight discovered.

Potter. He assaulted a student. Putting his face into his hands, he tried in vain to block out the haunting, jeering faces of Black and Potter, senior and junior alike. He had thought of himself as a controlled man, that surely it would take something more drastic to make him lose it, but that was not the case. He lost it tonight- no doubt about that- over something so small and insignificant, like a school boy. He could have composed himself, in dignified anger, and sneered at Potter, disillusioning him at long last. But no, he had to throw a bloody jar at the damn boy.

He rubbed his face harder, feeling the blood on his fingers smearing on his cheeks. Go away, he told the ghosts of his past. They did. Only the ghost of the present replaced them, until his mind was filled with nothing but her. Hermione Granger's face floated in front of him, and anger welled up in him until he shook.

How could you?

He demanded furiously at her. When he thought that she would understand and comfort him? When he had started to trust her? That trust, like everything else in his life, was snatched away from him so easily.

But gradually, even the anger subsided, and all that was left in his chest was- nothing. A hollowness that he had known before, an old friend that he never thought he'd meet again. It was even greater than the rage and shame he felt when he found Potter in his pensieve, because at least then he could name his feeling. Now the emptiness was so great that it swallowed him whole, or sucked everything out of him, leaving his skin alone. And this time, there was no one to blame- no older brother, no Potter. Just he himself. He had done everything wrong. He had ruined everything.

"Accio Firewhiskey," he muttered, not bothering to raise his wand. A bottle flew past him and smashed into the desk. He tried again, but it seemed that he had just wasted his last bottle. He slacked his muscles and sat in a slumped, drunken pose. Maybe it would numb him anyway, despite the lack of alcohol.

Did I do anything wrong?

He was never a man of introspection, and he understood why. His conscience spoke nauseatingly loud when he asked himself questions, accompanied with an equally appalling feeling of guilt.

"Shut up," he murmured, again and again in his dreams. They wouldn't leave him alone. Besides his usual nightmares of the past, new ones were added in tonight, his new, haunting present. But he could not dream of the future, because there could be no future.

Because everything, if there was ever something, certainly ended tonight.


Life went on, as normal as it possibly could. He did not see much of her, except perhaps in class, and he did not see much of Potter either, which was a definite improvement, in his opinion. Life also started to pick up pace, as he found more and more work facing him everyday- more essays to grade, more potions to brew, more things to cram into the fifth-years' heads, more orders from Dumbledore and, Merlin forbid, Umbridge- which was also a good thing, in some ways. For one, he needed not to think about meddlesome affairs such as bushy-haired Griffindors.

Though sometimes, when the dungeon was so quiet that he could hear a dull ringing in his ears, he would put down his quill and indulge himself a moment to think about her, to miss her, to feel angry about her and sorry about himself. Why couldn't she see that he was not much happier about not able to spend more time with her as she was? Why couldn't she see that, with Umbridge breathing on his neck, he couldn't really be seen with her? Why couldn't she see that, with Dumbledore and the Dark Lord heaving orders on his back, sometimes he was just so weary and wanted to lean on her and close his eyes?

Why couldn't she see, he was a mere human, after all?

Usually when he asked the question, a voice in his mind would smirk and tell him he wasn't doing a very good job at being human-like, and he would return to work. Occasionally he would allow himself to be angry, reasoning that a witch with her intelligence should have no problem understanding any of the above, if she so wished.

But it was a truly rare case, when he was feeling particularly moody, that he would admit that he missed her. Not so much as her touch- he had lived most of his life pretty much absent of human physical contact- than her company. He had lived without that most of his life, too, but now that he had a taste of it, he felt as if he would never have enough again. He felt weirdly like a drug addict. Then he would feel guilty for letting himself be spoilt, and would turn back to work.

Things went uncomplicated for a while. And then, June came, bringing with it the horrors of O.W.L.

He had denied that he cared, even tried to convince himself that he was enjoying his Potter-free days- but truth was, he was worried about his fifth years. Most of the less competent ones would be eliminated, it wasn't those that he was worried about. But what about Draco? Zabini?

Granger?

He had a glimpse of her one day when he was returning from the Great Hall to his office. It seemed to him that she was looking frailer than ever, her face pale with shadows beneath her eyes. She was scolding some third years. He shook his head and hurried on his way, marveling at the power of O.W.L. to reduce even her to venting pressure on some innocent bystanders.

How was she holding up? Not very well, he assumed. How did she do on her Potions exam?

This become some kind of routine in his life. Rituals, even. To think about her briefly between marking one essay and the next. Of course, nothing would happen because of his reminiscing. Or so he thought.

"Sir..." a distant voice came, growing steadily as its owner approached. The door was pushed open with a loud bang. He looked up in annoyance.

"Professor Snape, sir!" Panted Draco, one hand on the door and another on his chest. He was flushing in a strange excitement.

"Draco, what is it so important that requires you to ram into my office in this manner?"

"I- I am sorry, sir," he apologized quickly. "But sir, Professor Umbridge needs you. P- Potter-"

Severus stood up and put on his cloak. Nodding to his student, they went up the stairs, Draco skipping and telling him what had happened. He scowled when he mentioned that she was involved.

What was she thinking, he thought irately, going around with Potter and his abominable rule-breaking habit...

When they arrived Umbridge's office, Draco pushed open the door. He swept all emotions from his face, and stepped in.

"You wanted to see me, Headmistress?" He glanced around. Potter, the two youngest Weasleys, Longbottom, Lovegood- he mentally quirked an eyebrow at her- and... Granger. Millicent was pinning her against the wall with her natural advantage of a huge body-build, but it seemed that she has not given up without a fight- her frizzy hair was sticking out everywhere. He felt the odd urge to pull the cow of a girl from her.

"Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please." He caught Umbridge saying, and turned his attention to her.

"You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter," he reminded her. "Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient."

Umbridge flushed into an ugly shade of burgundy, giving the impression of a cooked frog.

"You can make some more, can't you?"

Urg. That voice of hers. "Certainly," he found himself replying, his voice miraculously devoid of the disgust he was feeling. "It takes a full moon cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month."

He watched in amusement as Umbridge swelled like a toad and wished in his heart that she would explode. To his disappointment, that didn't happen. Instead, she exploded by screaming at the top of her voice. Definitely not a good turn of event. He was vaguely aware that Umbridge was telling him something about Potter trying to contact somebody with her fire.

Daft boy, he thought, looking over to Potter. His green eyes were looking back at him defiantly, intently, as if trying to say-

"I wish to interrogate him!" Umbridge shrieked, and he was forced to look away. Potter was trying to tell him something, but what? Without a Legilimens spell, he could not read his mind, not without tuning out everything and focusing with all his will. And with a toad squealing at him, that was impossible.

"You are on probation!" She screamed. He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. Were his ears deceiving him, or was he getting something he had wanted for a long time from the one woman he hated the most? The irony of the situation was almost funny. He gave a bow, bending low so that he could hide his smirk, and turned to leave.

"He's got Padfoot!" Potter shouted suddenly. "He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!"

Idiot! He screamed in his mind. Even without his blatant hint, he would have gone and found out who he was contacting. But with that very helpful little code...

"Potter, when I want nonsense shouted at me I shall give you a Babbling Beverage," he replied coldly, slipping on his mask. Turning his heels, he exited the room. There was work to do.


"Afforio Sirius Black!"

Safely locked away in his office, Severus pulled out his wand and chanted. Immediately, the bandit-like face of Black appeared from the tip of his wand, semi-transparent like a ghost. He screwed his face into great dislike when he recognized who summoned him.

"Snivellus," Black snarled maliciously. "What do you want?"

"Shut up. I take no more pleasure from this conversation than you do. Where are you?"

"Why should I tell y-"

"Tell me your whereabouts, now!"

Black narrowed his eyes. "You aren't commanding me, Snape."

"Your clod of a godson just sneaked into Umbridge's office and got caught." His lips curled into a smirk. "Apparently, he thought you were captured by the Dark Lord. As if he would go and capture such a useless-"

"Stuff it, Snape." Black's face twisted in rage. "Harry thought I was captured? How?"

"Someone fishy is living in that house of yours, you mutt," Severus replied darkly. "I am going back to Umbridge's and get them. You go find out what's going on."

Not waiting for a reply, Severus terminated the spell, placed his wand into his robes and for the second time of the day ascended the stairs to the Headmistress's office. When he arrived there, the door of the room was swung wide open. Suddenly, a sunken feeling settled in his abdomen. He rushed in.

Crabbe and Goyle were lying by the window, stunned. Warrington was knocked out. But it was Draco that seemed to be in real trouble. A cloud of flapping... stuff... was finding his face interesting and determined to stick to it. The Griffindors were nowhere to be seen. He heaved a sigh.

"Finite," he pointed his wand at Draco. The... matter dropped to the floor. The boy began to gasp for air. Severus pulled him to his feet and rounded on him.

"Where is the Headmistress? Where are the others? What happened?"

"G-Granger," Draco gagged and coughed. Severus frowned.

"What? What about Granger?"

"S-she told Professor Umbridge that t-they have finished something- a we-weapon, and they were trying to contact Dumbledore. She and Professor Umbridge and Potter went into the Forest. Then, Longbottom started to kill Crabbe..."

What a bunch of crap, Severus thought in anger. What was she playing at?

"How long had they been gone?" He asked steely.

"T-twenty minutes, at least, sir."

"Wake those up." He pointed at the students from his own house, then turned to leave. "When any of them return, report to me."

"Yes, sir."


After pacing in his dungeon for an hour, Severus conceded that neither Umbridge or the students were returning anytime soon. He rubbed his nose wearily, well aware of the work that was in front of him that night.

"Afforio Sirius Black!"

Again, the holographic face of Black shot out of his wand.

"What now, Snape?" He said disdainfully, eyeing Severus like he was a piece of gum stuck to his shoe.

"Your godson," he paused for effect. "And several students were missing. They were last seen with Umbridge going into the Forest."

"The Forest?" Black took a sharp breath. "But it was-"

"Late, yes. I am fully aware of that."

"You don't reckon Umbridge killed them, do you?"

"No," Severus snapped. "I reckon Potter has found a way to the Ministry, breaking every school rule and dragging the others into danger, to rescue you. Who's in the Headquarters now?"

"Remus, Moody, Tonks and Kingsley." Black smirked, as if wanting to tell Severus that they were having a party and he wasn't invited.

"They have to go to the Department of Mysteries at once."

"Why should we listen to-"

"Don't argue with me! There's no time. You- you stay behind."

"What!"

"Shut up and listen! Dumbledore will be there any moment. Someone's got to tell him what happened."

Black did not reply, looking, for once, thoughtful. Then he looked up.

"I will remind you that, Snivellus," he said softly. "None of this would have happened if you hadn't stopped teaching Harry Occlumency."

Severus broke off the connection and walked out of his office.


The Forbidden Forest wasn't called that for nothing. It was an eerie place even in broad daylight, and tenfold more in the dark. Unknown creatures and dangers lurked behind every bush, waiting for the one opportune moment to seize you and eat you alive. Severus moved in the dark, his boots soundless on the crisp pine needles. He did not light his wand and found his way trusting his sense and intuition.

Summer winds blew in and out of the place, making his face sticky with sweat. His hands were also clammy, and he found it difficult to hold onto his wand. But he didn't dare cast a Drying Charm- any trace of magic could bring him danger, and the Tracking Spell he was using was enough a risk.

Where are they?

His throat itched to call out her name. His strides became bigger, but he did not realized his quickened pace until his heart thumped so loudly in his ribcage that he feared some beasts would hear and come after him. What was this worry in him? He could not afford to be worried now. He needed his cool, logical mind more than ever.

Then he came to a clearing, a mess of bent trees and broken branches and scattered twigs. For a fleeting second he was certain that he would find her on the ground, but it soon became clear that there were no lifeless bodies around. He straightened up and glanced at his surroundings. The cluttered footprints in the mud belonged to the centaurs, though it couldn't be they who had wrecked this place. In fact, the only thing he could think of that had the power to-

He paled in the dark. Of course, that explained everything.

Hagrid, you've really gone too far this time.

He walked several steps further. The centaurs and this giant had a fight here. However, how did the students fit in? Were they caught in the battle? The traces he picked up from the scarf she gave him ended here, abruptly, disappeared into thin air. They couldn't have Apparated. They couldn't have left the Forest's grounds, unless-

Oh Salazar.

They flew to London.

He could not control himself and started running back towards the castle. He did not give a damn about beasts and trolls at this point. She, flew all over to London! She, who was afraid of height. She, who wouldn't remind Potter of this. And Potter, being Potter, with his mind lodged on a ridiculous vision, would not notice.

And it pained him most that Black was right. It was his fault.

He ran up a flight of stairs and shot past the great doors at the entrance, past the indifferent statues and the concerned portraits, and down into the dungeons. Once he was there, he whipped out his wand and cried,

"Afforio Albus Dumbledore!"

The old wizard's familiar bearded face showed up. He seemed to be in a hurry, and his image was jumpy and dim.

"Severus, I trust you've found Harry and the others?"

"No, Albus," he gasped. Only now he realized how hard he had been running. "I just found that they left the Forest, most probably by means of flying."

"I am heading to the Ministry." Dumbledore's face was grim. "The others had gone before me, and I hope they made it in time. I am fearing for the worst, Severus."

"Albus, I-"

"All is forgiven," said the Headmaster kindly. "Go get some rest, boy-"

"No. I am coming, Albus. I am Flooing to Hogsmeade and Apparating to London right now. I-"

"Don't make a rash move, Severus. Voldemort will be there and you know you can't make an appearance. Stay, and take some sleep. I will not allow my students to be hurt. I assure you." Dumbledore regarded him gently. "I assure you, Hermione will be fine."

Severus nodded and put down his wand, stopping the connection.


It was impossible to try to rest, and Severus wondered idly whether this counted as a kind of insubordination to Albus' orders. He sat in front of the fire, finally getting tired of all that pacing around. It had been a long day, but his mind refused to give it a rest. His favorite potions journal was laying open on his lap, but naturally he couldn't read a page of it.

Was this how she felt when he was summoned? Uncertain of his survival, anxious of what type of wounds she would find on him when he came back? Was it the same kind of gnawing pain in the neck, a constriction that made swallowing hard?

He sat wide-eyed until the morning broke, staring as the fire reduced to embers and ashes in the fireplace. And he must have rested even if he didn't know, because when the fire suddenly roared to life and turned emerald, and Dumbledore stepped out of it, he was less alert than he would have liked.

"Severus."

"Albus." He struggled to stand up. Shaking himself from the trance he had entered, he gave the Headmaster a questioning look. He was looking tired and old.

"I can't stay long, Severus. I have a very angry teenager waiting for me in my office." Despite himself, Dumbledore smiled at him. "I am just stopping by to tell you that she is in the Hospital Wing. Poppy is tending her."

"Is she hurt?" He asked immediately.

"I am afraid so, more seriously than others. But she will be fine."

Severus slumped back into his chair in exhaustion. Dumbledore watched him, then spoke sadly,

"Sirius died last night."

"What?" His head snapped up so quickly that he felt his neck broke. Black, dead? His one dream coming true, his arch-nemesis, the only living piece of his past-

"I will tell you the entire story one day, over tea and shortbread," the older wizard smiled again, but his twinkle was absent in his eyes. "Right now, I'll have to face the consequences of my wrong decisions..."

As Dumbledore disappeared in the fireplace, his words echoed in the room.

The consequences of my wrong decisions...

Severus shot out of his chair and rushed to the Hospital Wing.


"What is the spell, Poppy?"

"Haven't you heard one word I said?" The Healer folded her arms irritably. "The spell wasn't properly cast, and there is little I can do besides hoping that she'd wake up on her own soon!"

He glanced over at the girl under the white sheets. Her hair was, for once, limp on the pillow. Her small pale face was set, serious, almost like she was merely closing her eyes to concentrate on a problem. Over her bed, he could see the two Weasleys' red hair poking from under their covers.

"-sheer luck. I dare wager that- Severus! Are you listening to me?"

He turned his gaze reluctantly from her bed. "Yes," he replied nonchalantly.

"Anyhow," Poppy huffed. "I've tried everything. Bone-amending remedies, Soothe-Ta-Skin, Coma-Dose, you name it. She'll wake up in several days, if not hours. No need to hustle around here."

"I think I will stay for a bit, Poppy," he informed her, and when she opened her mouth to protest, he held up a hand. "Any kind of potion for a year."

She stared at him skeptically, then a small grin appeared on her lips. "Deal," she said with her nose pointed in the air, and conjured a screen of curtain around the bed, blocking them from any curious eyes. Then she left, humming to herself.

Severus sat himself down into a chair, the hard, wooden kind that was made to hurt the sitter's back. But he didn't care. He leaned in closer and watched quietly. Hours passed and he did not move. Thoughts flew around in his mind, but nothing peculiar, nothing he hadn't thought of before. He was wrong, of course. And she was wrong. Both of them were wrong, and it made no difference. All that left was for him to sit and wait for her to wake up.

Poppy would come in and offer food occasionally, and he would eat to make her happy. Sometimes he would fell into the trance-like sleep again, with his mind reeling and his body resting. More phials of potions appeared on the nightstand as days went past, and the room around them stirred into life. He knew that all the other patients had awaken. He was not worried. The wards he set around was enough to keep the nosy Griffindors out. They would stay in their lonely world for some time more.

If she wouldn't ever wake up, would he be willing to stay here forever?

Before he could think of the answer to that, fate decided that it did not want to know.

It was very, very late in the night, the time of the day when 'late in the night' and 'early in the morning' overlapped. He awoke with a start. Something moved on her bed. He pulled his chair close till he could see her face without bending. His legs were numb, a part of the wooden chair.

Her face was no longer calm, but a crease appeared on her brows. Her eyelashes fluttered, and her hair seemed to be charged and started to curl again. He opened his mouth, but no voice came. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she wrenched her eyes open.

He stared into them, her widening irises in the dark. He could see recollection trickled back into them.

"Prof-" she tried, a sound rusty and dry like shoes on coarse sand, and attempted to sit up, then winced in pain. "Professor?"

Suddenly aware of his disarrayed appearance, he sat back a little. She turned her head with difficulty, and said again,

"Professor?"

"Hermione," the name rushed out of his lips, pulling all the wind out of him. He felt something shattered inside, and he placed his face into his hands.

I have been such a fool.

Then, an unexpected touch, cold fingers, placed themselves around his hands, and pried them away. He stared at her, feeling naked and defenseless. She awkwardly put his hands on her shoulders. Using her elbows, she heaved herself up arduously, wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him closer. His arms automatically circled the small of her back, and he buried his face into her neck. She smelled deliciously of antiseptic and potions.

"Hermione," he repeated, his voice thoroughly muffled in her flesh. He had much to say, but all mounted up to one word and one word only, over and over in his head, and he was sure that he had been Obliviated, so all that was left in his vocabulary was that single name.

She did not reply, but as she tangled her fingers into his hair, more greasy than ever for his lack of care in the past few days, he knew she understood.

The End


A/N: So... that's it! I hope this does not come as a shock. Yes, I have indeed decided to end this fic. There is initially much more to the plot, and I know there must be a loose end or two that I haven't tied up. However, this fic is intended as an experiment, as can be seen from the amount of plot devices I used, and I learned a lot from it. But as I grow, both in my thinking and my writing skills, this story has lost its appeal to me. Not that I don't love it. I do, and will acknowledge that without it I would never be the one I am now. But there are more stories that I just feel that I have to write. So, the decision is made. I may continue this story in the future, write a sequel, talk more about Severus' past. Though before that, I will have to ignite my passion towards writing by picking up one of the plot-bunnies that have been jumping around and snapping.

Thank you for all of you who have read and reviewed this. The writing experience is very, very gratifying. I enjoy waking up and turning on my computer to find my inbox flooded with reviews. It's been more than a year since I started this fic, and I hope you all witness the change and growth in me. Now, I am off to write another SS/HG (which I definitely am going to inform you about, later). And until we meet again, may your life be full of magic and chocolate. BaYer04rulz aka Zanthia :)