Hi, everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Not much action here, but it does tell some more about what happened between Harry and Hermione. In response to some of your questions: Yes, the man Daeth was in the order, and the boy that Daeth was looking for...well, I'll save that for later (evil author laugh). The story will unfold itself slowly, but in either chapter seven or eight, you will see what exactly happened between Harry and Hermione! On last thing, and then I will leave you all alone for the night: I would like to apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes. I know they are there, but I really didn't have time to fix them. So please don't review me telling me my grammar sucks. Okay, one more thing and then I will really leave you alone for the night. Thanks to all my reviewers for your wonderful and encouraging reviews. You guys really are great! Enjoy!


CHAPTER 7

There is silence between us, and I am glad for it. So quickly and thoroughly was I almost ensnared by this thing, by a feeling that comes form one who is a liar and incapable of emotion, but our little argument helped to stop that. I can almost see that sick face twisting into a sneer at my expense. Honestly, to act like a naïve schoolgirl….

I feel dizzy for a moment, a strange heat flaring up in my head.

"What a shame. She can't even keep a man. I heard he will send her to another house."

My ears perk up.

"I wonder what will happen to her? Perhaps she will be sent to a Malfoy. I've heard tales of those people…"

Fear and anxiety begin to gather in my belly. A cold trembling takes over. Instinctively, I pick up the brush from my vanity and start running it through my hair, so to fool any onlookers.

"It would serve her right." I hear the young blonde joining in. "She is always so uppity..."

"NO, it would not serve anyone right. She's not uppity, Julia, she has been through some bad things. Before he got her, she was tortured. They say she isn't right up there."

I almost laugh. They are probably right in this assumption. My mind doesn't feel all there, but then today it feels very wrong. Pushing through a haze, I wonder about why I feel so hot.


Thick curtains have been pulled shut over the windows and the air smells like herbs, healing herbs for sickness. The scent burns my nostrils with recognition. No sun has been let into my room for nearly three days as my body burns with fever. No sun on my already warm skin and already strained eyes. I burn now, hot and cold, for fear of what will be, for fear of what is. I can keep nothing now, retching constantly with even an attempt. Memories of my torture come rushing back to me. The doctor has called for my death. Perhaps it will come swiftly…

I am dreaming of Harry, of Anne, my friend long before I was Harry's lover. They were such simple times, and I know that seems strange, that a group of people could have "simple" times while in the midst of a war, but we did what everyone else does in situations such as that.

We dealt.

We treated each day as though everything were normal and life was going to see us into a ripe old age. Every hunt or mission party, I watched Anne send her husband off with tears in her eyes, all of the color gone from her face. I watched him press his forehead to hers and whisper sweet nothings in languages that were used to wield powerful magic. I could see his face, that lopsided grin that was only for me, and had been for as long as I could remember.

"Hermione…." A voice in the room breaks into my thoughts, and I want to scream at it for that slip. The fevered part of my brain tells me that it might not be real, that I might be dreaming it…

"Hermione," comes the soft, insistent voice again "I know you are awake…Can you hear me?"

Weakly, I turn towards the owner of such tenderness toward me, and nearly choke when I see Snape sitting down on my bed

"Severus" I all but croak at him "I feel so hot."

He puts a cool hand on my forehead.

"You are burning up." He stands up, a vision in all black, and wets a washcloth for my burning skin.

"Are you real, or am I dreaming?" I ask him, my mind swimming in confusion.

"Shall I be mean to you so you can be sure of who I am?"

My brow furrows in confusion until I realize he is making a joke.

"No….the memories are mean enough. I can see him….God Snape. I think I will go to hell for what I did to him."

"No, dearest." He laughs softly. "I don't think any woman has ever gone to hell for breaking a man's heart."

"I killed him."

For a moment he stills, the gentle chuckle in his expression now gone. A bone white hand runs through a lock of black hair. He looks so much like death. The dark clothes, his skeletal skin and unearthly pallor make me imagine a scythe in his hand, swooping down for me. The candles flicker as he takes a deep breathe.

"What happened?" he asked, taking my hand. I almost pull it back, surprised at this uncharacteristic show of affection from him, but then I stop. It feels so good. It has been to long since I have had the touch of another on my skin to soothe me, and he is so cold. The iciness of his blood helps to cool my heated flesh.

"I hardly know." My voice is not much more than a whisper now. "I am so scared. Can you make it stop? It has been so long since I asked anything of another person. I thought I was beyond redemption. I thought I would die in that cage, scared and lonely, but defiant…I would rather die than give in…"

He pulls me back to him as I trail off in some unintelligible words.

"Hermione…" he calls urgently to me. "You can't die now, not after you have come so far in this war."

"I want to be punished for what I did. I am a monster… I thought you would leave me to my fate. I would rather die than become a monster's whore. You have to understand. I can never be broken like that…."

"What fate….?" He asked, a confused look spreading over his handsome features.

"The other men. I know that you tired of me, but they said….I would go to another house." I cough horribly, wracking my already thin body as the familiar, metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.

He puts a handkerchief to my mouth in an attempt to wipe the blood up.

"I overloaded the other day. The magic that I used was not mine to use, was it?" I ask him, the simple act of coughing has cleared my mind for a moment.

A simple nod is all he gives, no explanation, no words, just a dumb nod to confirm what I guessed in a moment of clear fever induced delieria.

"If I had not given you some of my magic, you would have died then. I healed you and gave you power to use to protect yourself."

"I am dying from it, am I not?" He looks away from me.

"Few can harness wandless magic. It was a skill I learned from my mother long ago. Under the circumstances, it was all I could do for you."

"She died, didn't she. Those images with the little dark haired boy and his family, those were from you" It is more a statement than a question.

"I appears that when I gave you some of my powers, you also gained some of my skills as well." But of course, I had figured that, too.

"Why would you waste your time with me? Why not just let me die?"

I know his answer before he even gives it.

"Because I made a promise…"

"To the man that I killed…" I trail off again, the languages merging in my head. I wish I had the strength to cough once more, just one more moment of clarity before the darkness takes over.

"What happened to him?" Severus asks in that dark, seductive voice of his, like some demon priest come to hear my confession.

"He dies." I tell him, "Everynight in my dreams, I get to see him looking up at me, his dead eyes full of hurt and betrayal. I feel the flames of hell licking at me even now."

"And Anne? Does she not stare back at you?"

"She was bad," I tell him, "It was an accident, but she was bad."

"Shhhhh." A newly wetted washcloth is put on my forehead. "It is the fever burning you."

"But I killed them…I didn't mean to, but that excuse only works when you are very young and then not very well at all."

His laugh rings gently in my ears again. It is a new sound for him, something that sounds new and unfamiliar to his throat. The gentle sound sings me to sleep, and I know in that last moment that even if I die, I will go with happily with that one memory.


The storm was brewing overhead, the cold dark clouds rolling in. Two figures are running down a street, the streetlights flickering as they pass them, a smell of blood and death beating at their backs like some invisible master driving them on. One stumbles on the rain soaked pavement when the other leans to help him up, her hood falling back to reveal chestnut colored hair, drenched through and through and matted to her pretty face.

"Harry… You have to get up. Not much further. We're almost there. You can make it."

He leans on her, almost collapsing her with his weight as they pass the little apple pie houses lined along the road. Any other time she would have noted the irony of the situation. Hell on their heels in apple pie America.

He slips for a minute, the blood and rain making it hard for him to keep a grip on her, the woman who would throw him over her shoulder and carry him if she had the strength.

" Not much further…" she tells him again, willing him to stay alive for just a few more moments.

A deafening roar splits the sky, lightning cracking the mountains.

"Harry, if we get out of this, you owe me a milkshake…"

His body trembles slightly at an attempt to laugh. It was their way, this easy camaraderie, almost dying, laughing about it, facing death, cracking jokes.

It was kind of sick

"Don't let Anne see me hurt. She'll flip." He tells her, his voice pained as he struggles to take some of his weight off of her.

"Come on, now. How many times have I saved you from trouble with that woman. Besides, I mean, she is really kind of scary. I would definitely not want to be the one that dragged you half dead to her."

Another loud crack fills the air as a tree lurches in front of them.

"Anyway, like I said. If I took you back there like this, she would kill me. And then, of course she'd kill you, even though these whole messes are your fault."

"My fault…?" He asks, his voice fading.

"Wake up." She tells him, a hint of fear in her voice as she hoists him against her more tightly. "You got yourself into this, and I'm about to drop you and let you get yourself out." Her voice was harsh, but only out of fear.

"You wouldn't dare. Who else would put up with you for a partner?"

She laughs in response to that, some of the old Harry peeking out to her.

Yes, tonight she was sure they would both be alright.


"Miss, you've got to wake up and eat something. The fever will only worsen if you don't eat. Take some soup" I hear an old voice call me from painful memories. I roll over in an attempt to stay asleep.

"Miss, miss, you've got to eat. The master says for you to." I crack an eyelid open at her and nearly scream as the sun hits my eyes. My body jerks in pain as the aged lady goes to shut the blinds.

"I thought some light might do you some good." She offers in way of explanation, and yet she does not. The woman shuffling around the room with golden grey hair and wrinkled skin has an air about her that most older woman do, as though they know best and will answer to no one for that knowledge.

She's spunky.

"How long…" I start, but my voice sounds barely there, so I start again. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Nearly ten days." She says matter of factly, handing me a glass of water and going to straighten my pillows.

"Ten days…" My mouth gapes slightly in wonder.

"Yes, dearie. You were out for three days, burning with fever, and then on that third day, it started to go down. The sir was mighty worried for you. He sat in here and talked with you while you were babbling in those nonsense phrases of yours. What was that again?" She asks, preparing my food on a tray for me.

"They were spells," I tell her simply. She moves to say something else, but then stops, comprehension dawning on her aged face.

"Ah, so you are one of those kind?" It isn't a question, and we both know it. Her wise, glowing eyes are sizing me up, almost as if she can read me. I shift uncomfortably under her gaze.

"I used to be one of those kind." I tell her evenly, surprising even myself that I can be that calm. "Now I am property."

She nods as though satisfied and places the tray on my lap. A rush of scents fill my nostrils making my stomach growl in return. She laughs gently.

"Eat now, child. Then you can sleep more."


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