A/N: I know I haven't updated in a while, and I know this isn't very long, but I have a few things to comment on. First, the only reason I began writing again on this story was because I saw it listed on the favorites of an author I respect (James Milamber)(I had quite forgotten about his stating he had added me to his favorites) and it shocked me into writing again. However, I'm currently attending college, so my mind is often on other things. I will start updating again though. Starting with this. When I can, and what I can.
On the last chapter, a few people (Thank you James, and Lyssie) sat me straight on the definition of bugger. That was NOT how that word was meant to be used. Where I live, when its used, its more of a well..synonym for getting laid, quite frankly. I will correct it when I get the time though.
Also, I got a few comments in reviews about this story being too dark. I won't apologize for that, but I would hope that you would give it a chance anyways. This story will be dark throughout, but I do always try to include lighter moments, and although I won't reveal how the ending goes—I don't necessarily believe in unhappy endings. Truthful ones, but not unhappy ones. (Now you just gotta guess at my definition of unhappy ;) )
BTW: I don't see my beta much anymore, so could someone please beta this for meeee? I'll love you forever!!!—I'm also considering re-writing---any suggestions?
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It was a full half hour later before Harry would emerge from the bathroom, and when he did, he found that Snape was not there; but there was a distinctive smell coming from the direction of the potions lab. "Ah, the smell of hair grease...so lovely to come out to."

"Harry, be nice." The words seemed to be whispered intimately into his left ear, and as a shiver ran through him, he whirled around to the sight of everything behind him being perfectly normal. Still though, he felt chills run up his spine. It had sounded so much like. "Ginny?!" A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed hard. No one answered though, and after a moment he took a deep breath. "Going crazy, Potter." With a good deal of self-disgust, he turned on his heel and walked towards the potions lab, composing himself by running a hand through his messy black hair as he went.

From the hall, a flicker of a young woman, translucent, but with the red of her hair shining through, came into view, and gentle laughter floated through the air. "No, love, not going crazy. Just being haunted." Smirking playfully, she faded from view again, trying hard to resist the urge to run up to Harry and pinch him on the arse. She knew she couldn't though. It would be funny, but Harry was no longer hers.

"Finally decided to act like the Gryffindor you are so proud of being, Potter?" The words greeted him as soon as he stepped into the room, although the potions master had his back to him. Harry, already unsettled by his encounter with...his imagination?, jumped, and then glared at Snape's back.

"Shove it, Snape."

"Ah-ah, Potter. I know your secret now. I could have you killed in a heartbeat." The greasy haired man intoned with an almost playful (for him, anyways) edge, as he turned to retrieve some of the last ingredient needed to be added to the potion, (that Potter had listed, at least), more commonly known as Death's Door.

"Snape, there is no room in the game I'm playing for your childish threats." Green eyes hardened as Harry flicked his wand into his hand, and walked up behind the Potion's Master, pressing the tip of it into the back of his neck. "You know how powerful I am, Professor. You also know how much I hate you. I killed Draco Malfoy, held him under the cruciatus long enough to drive him insane; and it was easy. So if you have any instinct for self-preservation, you will either help me, or stay out of my way, because I take no survivors. Not this time."

A shiver ran through Severus, one he tried hard to suppress. The sheer...darkness...in the Gryffindor's tone right then rivaled the Dark Lord's when he was at his most sane, and was coldly plotting something. Dear Merlin, he thought, If he's already that far...what's going to happen after he kills the Dark Lord? It wasn't something pleasant to contemplate. Quelling the fear he was beginning to feel, Severus turned around slowly and easily and raised a brow at his former student. "I'm a Slytherin, Potter. Your stupid intimidation tactics do not work on me."

Harry just snorted and began to incant Crucio.

Snape flinched visibly, and Harry smirked at him. "They don't, huh?"

"Shut up, Potter!" With the words growled, Snape turned his attention back to the cauldron, and began to crumble up the fungus, in preparation to add it to the cauldron. "Are you going to stand there all day, or are you actually going to help out? There are still plenty of things the Dark Lord would be delighted to hear about.

With a roll of his eyes, the raven-haired younger man holstered his wand and walked over to the other side of the table and picked up the now gold stirring spoon. "33 and a third times counter clock-wise, and 4 times clockwise, correct?"

A sharp nod was his answer, and then the Potion's Master began to drop in the fungus, watching critically as the potion began to turn to a shining gold color, with swirls of leaf-green tracing throughout it.
It was only after Harry had completed the stirring of the potion, and all the fungus had been added, that Snape stepped away from the cauldron and said almost conversationally, "You know, if this works, this is a potion that could be very valuable to those who wish to escape from their old life?"

Harry had to repress a caustic "No shit, Sherlock.", instead, he merely nodded, and changed the subject. "We can't tell the old Man. You realize that, right? If this is going to pull off..."

"No one can know." Snape finished for him. "That seems surprisingly sensible coming from you, Potter." The-boy-who-lived's temper flared, and he clenched his fists.

"You know, you treat me like a bloomin' idiot, yet out of the two of us, I'm the one who came up with this potion, even though you're a bloody potion's Master. I'm the one who made this plan to finish off the Dark Lord, and I haven't gone crawling to anyone, trying to make up for my actions. You put down Gryffindors, Sevvie, but between the two of us? I may die, in fact I full well intend on it, but exactly who's going to rid the world of that scum Voldemort? Hmm?"

The two stared at each other for a long moment before Severus broke eye contact, looking down to the potion, in the pretext of checking on it.

From then until he left, except for a brief comment about how long the potion needed to boil, then cool, and then simmer...no words came from the either mouth.

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A knock at the door brought Hermione out of the light doze she'd entered into, and the bushy-haired woman sat up on the couch, hurriedly checking to make sure that her left forearm was covered. "Who is it?" She called out. A smile touched her lips when the person on the other side of the door answered, and she practically leapt off the couch and sped to the door, pulling it open. "Professor Lupin! Hello!" The graying man smiled warmly, yet politely at Hermione, although his eyes held a touch of pity? In them.
"Hello, Hermione. How are you?" She knew he was asking about Ron's death, and as she liked him so much, she gifted him with a truthful answer. "I'm doing surprisingly okay, Professor. Mourning the loss of my best friend, but...okay." He blinked in surprise; he had expected her to be mourning the loss of the man she loved, but the way she had phrased that last bit had made him think.

Shoving the thoughts aside, he gestured slightly towards the living room. "May I come in?" Instantly she blushed, and stepped back, pulling the door wide open.

"Of course. Please, do." As he stepped inside and past her, her eyes drifted down over him, curiously, and her smile transformed into a bit of grin. The man may be a werewolf, and may be worn out, and aged before his time, but as he removed his coat, she noted he still had one nice set of buttocks on him.

Her eyes snapped up as he turned around, before he could catch her staring, and although her cheeks were a bit flushed, she still managed an innocent look. "How are you, Professor?"

"Hermione," He chided her gently, "I've not been your professor for years, now."

"But you definitely earned the title, Pro—Remus. You were the best teacher for DADA that we've ever had!" This brought a pleased, although somewhat self-conscious grin to his lips, and he murmured his thanks before inclining his head towards the sofa fractionally. She instantly understood what he meant, and nodded. "Yes, do sit down! I'm sorry, I just woke up from a bit of a nap and...well..."

"Don't worry. Its quite understandable." He said as he said down upon the sofa, folding his coat up and resting it on his lap. "Join me?" As soon as she was seated, he turned toward her fractionally, and began. "I'm here about Harry. Have you seen him? Talked to him? I'm quite worried...Ginny's death—I'm afraid it might have pushed him too far."

If only you knew, Professor. She thought to herself, but said nothing of her thoughts, instead she shrugged a bit, and then shook her head. "I really haven't seen Harry much." Well, that part was true. "I did meet him at the Three Broomsticks for a bite and a bit of talk. He...well, I think he's fixated on getting revenge." She dropped her eyes as she finished, an unknowing sign that she wasn't telling the complete truth, at least as she saw it, and Remus caught it instantly; and, he filed the information away to discuss with Albus.

"Does he know he's not alone, Hermione? That people still c-still love him? The Weasleys, me..." A searching look at her made him continue without much pause, as he wasn't really surprised. "you. I believe even Dumbledore genuinely cares about him." How does he do that?! Hermione thought, even as she blushed bright red at the discovery of her secret.

Since there was really no use denying it, she said, "I don't know, Professor. He was so wrapped up in Ginny...I....I just wish that the ...that what I shared with Ron was half as strong as what was between those two." He nodded in understanding, and she went on more firmly. "I think that Harry's decided that someone is going to pay for her death, and he doesn't particularly care if he dies in the process." She didn't really realize the words were true until they left her lips, and then she paled. That would explain why he'd been so blasé about casting the curses he had. Why fear Azkaban when you intended to die long before any questions arose, anyways?

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To be continued...