Albus Dumbledore was tired, too tired and old to deal with the sobbing head girl in his potions master's arms so he walked past them and allowed Severus to handle the situation as he may. Snape watched his mentor walk slowly up the stone steps and disappear around a corner while Hermione shook in his arms. It was nearly one in the morning and they were both tired. Snape shushed Hermione and helped her up the stairs and into her room. The crying didn't stop, only got louder and more heart wrenching. She couldn't speak, she couldn't breath, and before too long, she was on her knees in front of the toilet retching out her sorrows while Snape rubbed her back and shot a cooling mist from the tip of his wand against the nape of her neck.

Eventually she tired herself out and fell asleep. There were classes in the morning but he couldn't bring himself to leave her. Her face was red and blotchy from crying and her left eye was bloodshot from throwing up (he fixed it with his wand before she noticed) but he found her to be lovely in her sadness. He never wanted to leave her. No one had ever trusted him enough to fall asleep with him in the same room, to be ill with him, to hand their virginity over to him. Hermione was a puzzle he didn't understand but wanted to spend the rest of his life solving. He kissed her cheek and she groaned a little and rolled over to make space for him, unconsciously. So she dreamed of him while she slept, after all. He lay next to her, let his body warm hers, and fell asleep.

oooo

Snape rose before the sun. He woke up groggy and a little disoriented but remembered the previous night's activities clearly when he saw Hermione next to him, still fully clothed and on top of the bed linens. Her normal coloring had returned, thankfully, though he could see dark circles under her eyes. She still looked sad. One thing he had found both irritating and endearing about Hermione was that she always seemed confident but now she seemed unsure of herself, even in sleep. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. She woke up slowly, as if resisting the pull of reality. Finally, her eyes opened and she looked at him, her face round and open – her emotions to be read like a book. He didn't know what to say.

"I'd hoped…" She paused to clear her throat, her voice thick with sleep, "I'd hoped that when I got to spend the night with you again, that it would have gone differently."

"Me too," he said. "I have to leave, but I will see you later today, in class," he promised.

"Do you think if I were to go ask headmaster Dumbledore a few questions, do you think he would answer them?" she asked.

"I think he owes you that much," Snape said standing and pulling his boots onto his long feet. She sat up to walk him out of the room and then remembered the door that would lead to nearly any place in the castle. She tapped her wand and called for his office. He leaned down and kissed her lips lightly, a kiss not for passion but for comfort and warmth. She watched him disappear with watery eyes.

It was a nice reprieve, having him near to share her vulnerability with her but now she showered and dressed in a newly cleaned uniform and she hardened herself for what she thought would be a difficult conversation – perhaps one sided conversation – with the Headmaster. It was early, before breakfast, so she had plenty of time before classes started. It helped that she was right next to his office. She spoke the password ("tiramisu") and stepped on to the staircase so it lifted her into the quiet, sleepy office. He was not in, understandably, who knew how tired he was. Still, she looked at Fawkes sitting on his perch, watching her intently.

"Could you wake him for me?" she asked, apologetically. The bird tilted it's head and swooped off the perch and down a hallway. She sat down on the straight backed chair and waited primly. It was only a few minutes before Dumbledore emerged carrying a tray of tea.

"Just in time for my morning tea, Miss Granger, I do hope you'll share some with me," he said.

"I don't mean to be forward," she said, ignoring his offer.

"But you want to know about Harry," he finished. "I cannot blame you for that, I'm afraid." She nodded. He handed her a cup of tea – he always seemed to know just how she preferred it. "Don't you think Mr. Weasley would like to hear this as well?" he asked.

"Ron and I… without Harry, Ron and I aren't sure where we stand with one another," she admitted freely. "Harry was our glue, he was everyone's glue, and now how am I supposed to stay together without him?" she asked, and she'd started to cry, even though she'd been practicing not crying all morning.

"Everyone is glue in their own way. Severus, for instance," he pointed out. "He needs so badly to be important to someone."

"I need him, too, he is important in a different way than Harry," she said. "Do you know where Harry is?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "But I promised that I wouldn't tell anyone. Not even you. It took me nearly a month to find him and in less than a day he had managed to send me away. He will not stay away forever, and he loves you Hermione."

"Why did he leave?" she asked, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

"I take the blame for that," Dumbledore said, looking out his window forlornly. "I made him into a soldier when he never wanted to fight. He's tired now. He's taking a break and when he's ready he will come back and he will find you. That's a promise."

"And Voldemort?" she asked. But Dumbledore shook his head, his mouth in a firm line.

"That is not my story to tell."

oooo

The headmaster walked her to breakfast and there was a collective sigh of relief when everyone saw Dumbledore take his rightful place at the high table. Slowly but surely normal, happy chatter returned. Hermione told Ron and Ginny what she knew in low whispers. She still sat with Ron and mealtimes and next to him in their shared classes but they didn't talk about anything anymore. Ron had formed his own circle of qudditch friends and while growing out of their friendship could have been bitter and painful, it wasn't. They would always be friends – they had shared too much for that ever to change.

It seemed to take forever for potions class to come. NEWTs level potions was a class of eight people from all four classes. It was Hogwarts' elite. Hermione sat at one of the front stations and at this point in the semester they needed very little direction. Most of them were in a month long brewing cycle so they just gathered their cauldrons, removed the stasis charm, and set about their work. Hermione was working on brewing Wolfsbane because it was challenging and practical. Snape could always give it to Professor Lupin if it was successful. She set about chopping and pulverizing. She was aware of Snape sitting at his desk, writing essays. About halfway through the double period, he stood and handed back their last quizzes. On the back of hers (95 out of 100, the git) was his scrawl in precise red ink.

My office, after patrol.

This was a surprising note. Usually they avoided each other. Now he wanted to see her after hours alone? She was happy to have something to look forward to, of course, but it was still surprising. Still, when the bells chimed midnight, ending her patrol, she walked briskly down toward the dungeons and rapped three times on his office door.

"Come in," he said, and she did so. The office was cold and dark, lit only by a few candles. The snow had been falling steadily for some time now and it seemed to make his dungeon office practically uninhabitable.

"It's freezing!" she exclaimed. He shrugged.

"Perhaps you should look up warming charms in your second year charms textbook," he said in a drawl that was quite characteristically Snape. She sat down, glaring.

"You wished to see me, SIR?"

"Oh, none of that," he said, leaning back. "I thought perhaps you would like to talk about your meeting with the headmaster."

"He told you?" she asked.

"I asked," he admitted. "He thought that I could perhaps be helpful in your time of need."

"He is sure singing a different tune," she said, sourly.

"I don't think he meant shagging," Snape said. "But if that is what you need…"

"Severus!" she said, smiling. "How indecent."

"I'm not sure I know how to be a confidant for you, but regardless, I am here if you need me," he said. He cleared his throat and looked up at the ceiling. "I love you, Hermione. You know that, right?" She smiled, and reaching across the desk to clasp his fingers.

"I love you, too," she assured him. "And whether we talk or not, you've helped me already." He nodded and they sat in silence for a while.

"Have you thought about what you will do when you graduate?" he asked her finally, trying to sound like an interested professor over an insanely curious love interest.

"Some," she answered noncommittally. "There is always university, both wizard and Muggle."

"An unnecessary step at best," he interrupted.

"A university degree practically cements you into any job you could want," she argued.

"You are brilliant," he said. "You will get whatever apprenticeship that you choose."

"You are probably right," she sighed. "I haven't forgotten what you said about a potions apprenticeship," she added because she knew that he was trying to steer the conversation in that direction.

"An offer that still stands, if approached correctly," he said.

"I've been thinking of something else," she said. His eyebrows raised.

"Oh?"

"The Unspeakables," she said quietly, as if the name – not just the people – were such. This surprised him, though, in retrospect, it shouldn't have. Gryffindors often went to work for the Ministry – for the Ministry of Magic was the stereotypical good – they were the government there to help the people whether they did so or not. The Unspeakables, though, while a department within the Ministry, were given the most leeway because they dealt with everything the Ministry didn't want to. They were like aurors, Snape thought, with class.

"I think that would suit you," Snape said, honestly. "Though here is still much about the job I don't know."

"There is a lot that can't be known until you are accepted as an Unspeakable," she pointed out. It was partly what drew her to the occupation. The fire crackled.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Famished," she said, relieved. He stood and with a flourish, led her out of his office.

He allowed her to run her fingers over the underside of the pears. She still took pleasure from the small things that magic offered. Most house elves were out cleaning or in bed but the three in the kitchens rounded up some cream based soup and hunks of fresh bread for them to consume. They sat beside one another at the wooden table. Hermione scraped her spoon against her bowl; Snape chewed on the crust of his bread. He watched her eyes droop.

"Why don't you go to bed?" he said.

"I'm scared to," she answered.

"Would you like a dreamless sleep draught?" She nodded. And so they walked together to his chambers and into his private lab where he gave her a corked vial. Before he could stop her, she took out the cork and threw back the contents of the vial. It was only seconds before she began to crumple. Rolling his eyes, he scooped her up and carried her to his bed.

oooo

She woke up suddenly and abruptly as the dreamless sleep wore off. She had rarely taken the draught without the other pain dulling potions and decided she didn't like it. Shaking herself awake, she pushed off the linens and tiptoed away from the bed as not to wake Snape. She sat on the edge of the tub feeling a little shaky. She could hear a far away drumming, and she knew it to be rain. Outside it was probably pouring but because they were so deep within the castle, all she heard was a distant echo. At least, she thought, the rain might melt the snow. She splashed cool water on her face and pressed into his black towel. It smelled of his spicy aftershave. She hadn't realized the draught worked so quickly and chastised her self for being rash and endangering both of them. It was hot-headed and Gryffindor. He had probably been irritated with her but he let her stay with him.

She knew she should take leave of him now but this opportunity was golden. She was more calm now – awake without feeling jolted – and so she went back to bed. He stirred when she pressed herself into his lank, shirtless form and awoke when she moved so her knee was between his legs. It was clear she was feeling better; clear what she wanted and he wasn't going to deny her.

oooo

March melted the last of the snow and the ice cracked open over the lake. They would see the giant squid soon and it reminded her that while change was inevitable, some things remained the same. Spring fever was starting to set in and Hermione was taking away points from nearly everyone she came across. The Weasley twins made a fortune off Hogwarts alone – she could practically open her own shop with the products she confiscated and deposited in, unfortunately, Filch's office. She couldn't blame the students, though. She was tired of the castle walls herself and often took walks on the grounds when she had a chance. Sometimes Snape would accompany her. They would circle the lake and walk to the pitch and back. He would verbally quiz her on potions and ingredients that were NEWT level for the tests were only a few months away. The NEWTs were also the light at the end of a very long tunnel for the two of them. It marked the end of term… graduation not far behind.

Hermione assumed the ring on her finger would become an engagement ring. She didn't tell him that she thought that but they had endured this much. The only way society would ever accept them was if they made it legal. Maybe he wouldn't ask. Either way, she wanted to wake up next to him and not have to worry about sneaking away. When they were out of view of both the castle and the pitch, he took her hand.

It became common place to see the dour potions master in the company of the head girl but it was all very professional. When overheard, they were often speaking of prefect duties, house points, or the NEWTs. They never touched, never spoke improperly. They only odd thing that fueled countless rumors was the fact that they seemed to enjoy one another's company so immensely. Many wondered what had happened between fall and spring term. They went from never being seen together to being seen with one another daily. No one complained, however, for he was nearly civil during potions lessons.

It was Andrew who worried Hermione the most. He looked at her most peculiarly and stared at her ring as if in deep thought. Hermione was not oblivious to the rumors and she felt that the most vicious came from the cold, calculating house of Ravenclaw. Was Andrew spearheading that? He seemed so demure but he was made head boy for a reason. Had he cut throats to get to the top? Still, Dumbledore knew of their relationship as well and as long as they were proper – which mostly they were – Hermione didn't fear for her education or reputation. The slip ups between Snape and Hermione were few and only crisis induced, thus far. Theirs was possibly the most demure love affair that year. Lavender, no matter who her partner was that week, always had them beat.

Hermione kept herself quite busy studying by the time April rolled around and by May, she spent more time in the library than in her rooms. Snape would demand that she attend at least two meals and sleep five to six hours every night. They no longer walked but occasionally, if it was late enough, he would allow her to bring her study materials to his office so they could sit quietly together while he did his grading.

Ron and she studied in the common room on Wednesday evenings simply because she was throwing him a bone and by the end of May, every seventh year Gryffindor attended. Mid-June meant that it was time. Hermione needed top marks to be accepted into the training program of the Unspeakables (she'd already applied and so two copies of her NEWT scores would be sent out: one to her and one to the department of mysteries). If not, she would stay on at Hogwarts to study to be a Potions Mistress. Really, though, she would stay on at the castle regardless.

Ron said that he didn't want to do anything after graduation. He said that he would wait for Harry – that maybe he would go find him. He wasn't the same. Hermione tried to convince him that Harry didn't want to be found, that maybe Ron should try to get a job in the ministry; that perhaps Mr. Weasley could set something up but Ron wouldn't be convinced. He made no plans except to go back to the Burrow and live in his old bedroom. Hermione didn't want Ron to fail but she had her own life to worry about. She couldn't take care of him forever. Still, she sent a note to the Weasley twins begging them to offer their younger brother a job so he wouldn't waste away.

The morning of the first day of testing, Hermione was the first person in for breakfast with a huge stack of notes, nibbling at a corner of her toast nervously. She could see the carriages out front that meant the ministry officials had arrived to proctor the NEWTs to the seventh years and the OWLs to the fifth years. She thought that really, she would do fine, but she wished that Harry was there so he could finish his schooling once and for all and not have to worry about it! And she wished she could see Snape alone so he could wish her luck and tell her she would be fine.

Soon enough, everyone was there for breakfast and everyone looked nervous because it was exams of some sort all around. She saw Snape sitting at the high table but he did not meet her eye or acknowledge her any more or less than other students. The bells rang over head and she knew it was time to go.