AN: Wow. Between the 2 sites, I've gotten 15000 hits. Plus, very exciting, I got a review from the Potions Master admin (!). This is the final chapter save an epilogue to tie up loose ends - I'm considering a sequel-type story to flesh it out, but not until I've finished some other stories I'm working on.

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I have come to the conclusion that Severus Snape is impossible to understand. I've seen rabid animals more predictable than him. At times he's my teacher. At times he's my friend. At times, he's... more. Lately he's been bland and distant, but kinder and more predictable than I've seen him before.

He must be terribly confused. I know I am. Lucky that I'm a persistent woman.

For four days I've spent the afternoons with him, over lunch, over supper, discussing friendly but uncontroversial subjects. Potions. Books. The garden. He's always the one who comes to get me from my room, or from the garden, or the library at mealtime. Other than that, he leaves me be, though I know he watches through the door when I'm in the library, opens his window to listen to me sing as I plant the springtime perennials.

He doesn't touch me. He doesn't touch alcohol. When we work in the Potions lab, or sit in his office, he stays as far away from me as possible. I'm torn between relief and disappointment.

"How did you find Debaton's book on steeping techniques?" he asks over his lunch.

Good God, can't we get beyond this?

I wonder if he's only behaving so blandly because he doesn't want to frighten me. He's so emotionally skittish that if I tell him I'm not some china doll, and that I liked it when I could talk to him about my worries, he'll just run.

"It was a little dull. I've already read most of Debaton's so-called innovations in other journals."

"Hmm. I agree," he says.

There's a lull in the conversation before he speaks again.

"Miss Weasley is supposed to arrive tomorrow. Do you need anything for her visit?"

"Need anything?" I ask.

He frowns. "I don't know what it is that young women do when they congregate. I am especially ignorant as to the rituals of young Muggle women - not that I particularly care - though I do realize that both our lives may run more smoothly if you are given the knickknacks you were used to in your past."

I smile. "You'd fetch me Muggle things if I asked you?"

He glowers at me. "I do not fetch."

"Poor choice of words. I just never considered..."

I look down at my meal - curry, at my request. How many little gestures have I missed? How many small messages has he tried to give me? I've never been one for subtlety, and he's just the opposite - he could never, ever blatantly declare his intentions. Cherries, my favourite fruit; a room painted blue, not far from the colour I kept my room at Hogwarts; chocolate and soup and tucking me in at night.

I realize he's waiting for me to speak.

The cheer in my voice sounds forced. "You don't have to worry. Us young women don't require much more than game boards and a cup of tea."

He looks skeptical.

"All right, so maybe it'll just be bad Wizarding romances and bottles of beer and something chocolatey and fattening, but we won't disturb you, I promise," I say. "Muggle things... I can't think of anything I really miss... except maybe my cat..."

We lapse into silence again, me ruminating on poor Crooks, and him looking uncomfortable at my sudden melancholy. He speaks first.

"I notice you weeded and sowed the garden closest to the front door."

"Yes, I thought it might be nice to plant some daisies and roses."

I watch his reaction. He clenches his spoon, knuckles white. I can see him forcing himself to relax, to unclench the spoon, to reschool his features into a mask of indifference.

Loki appears before he can respond. "Master Little Malfoy is being in the apparation room."

"You may escort him in, Loki."

"Apparation room?" I ask.

"After the poisoning attempt, I warded all rooms in the house against floo and apparation except the small room closest to the front door. You or I must release our visitors from the room."

"So if we're not here, or we don't want to let them out, they're stuck in there?"

"Unless they're exceptionally good at dismantling dark wards, and even then it would take a while. It is for your safety, you understand." He looks upon me with pinched eyebrows, what I now recognize as a sign of nervousness. "If I charmed a small piece of jewellery to alert me when you were in danger, would you wear it?"

"Just so you'd know when I was in danger? Of course."

He lets out a sigh of relief. "Excellent. You will find it inside that gray box on the sideboard."

I reach over for the nondescript case, expecting a bangle or perhaps a chain or barrette. He leans down to study his drinking glass as I pull the top open - I'm suddenly a bit giddy, wondering what exactly I'll find inside. A bit like a birthday or Christmas present, really; only it's not my birthday, and it's not Christmas.

We missed Christmas, I realize. Maybe he'll let me make it up.

I see the glint of gold. The bracelet is a network of fine chains woven around a pair of red stones. The metalwork flashes fire under the candlelight. The clasps are polished to a high shine with age. He reaches over and clasps it around my wrist before I have a chance to respond. His fingers brush my skin. I can't do anything except lick my lips and swallow.

It's beautiful.

"It's a family piece," he says abruptly. "Be careful with it."

Such snappish words, his last, weak line of defense, completely at odds with the present he's given to me. It's a present, not a safety device. I know it. He knows it, and he's frightened that I know it. His fingers linger upon mine for a fraction too long before he pulls back.

The door clatters open, interrupting the syrupy-tension between us. Draco, alone, peers into the room. He looks a mess. His hair sticks in all directions, like cornsilk. His eyes are puffy, and the glamour he's tried to hide it with does a poor job.

"Draco, whatever is the matter?"

"Ginevra," he barks back. "Ginevra is gone. I found her window lying open and the wards dismantled. I came to see if, for some reason, she came here."

Draco pins me down with an accusatory gaze. I shrink, and let my eyes flicker to Professor Snape, wondering how I should behave. He offers me a reassuring quirk of his lips, then stands, moves around the table, and settles his hand on my shoulder.

"Your... companion... is not here, Draco."

"Companion! Do not make it more than it was, Snape. My whore has abandoned me."

Draco's hands shake. His voice trembles. I pity him. Despite his harsh words, he looks on the verge of tears.

"I have not seen her since she visited with you last, Draco. Hermione?" He turns to me. "Have you seen Miss Weasley?"

He searches my eyes as I speak. I know he's searching for deception, but he'll find none.

"I haven't. The last day she was here she made plans to see me on Monday, since you were arranging a dowry. She didn't sound like she was planning to leave."

"You have your answer, Draco, she has not been here, and neither Hermione nor I have seen her in days."

Draco's face goes red. He splutters at me.

"She's lying! She's a Mudblood, she's probably scheming to stab you the first chance she gets! Just like Ginevra, she's telling you sweet lies, simpering, promising you..."

"She is not lying," Snape interrupts. "And you will address her with respect, or you will leave. Hermione has had dozens of opportunities to murder me were that her ultimate goal. God knows I have given her enough reason to in the past."

I stare at him. In front of Draco he can say these things. Why does it take Draco Malfoy to spur him into such declarations? Maybe because he can predict my reactions with Draco in the room. I can't overreact or act emotional.

"You interrupted our luncheon, Draco, but if you wish to, you may join Hermione and I." He settles back into the seat at the end of the table. "Though I must say, chicken vindaloo owes very little to the Wizarding world, and I doubt you would find Muggle dishes palatable in the least."

Draco makes a gagging noise. He backs up, like a cat facing a bulldog.

"You're disgusting," he finally manages to hiss. "You've gone Muggle. Eating Muggle food. Allowing your Muggle to sit at your table. I bet you even allow her to address you by your given name."

"Hermione may refer to me by whichever name she pleases," he replies blandly, poking at his meal. "I would rather it, actually. I have no desire to be reminded of my former career, especially considering my hopes for her."

Hopes? I narrow my eyes at him, wondering what elaborate plans he's set in motion this time.His eyes soften just a fraction, ignoring Draco's scowl.

"My father told me about your deal, Snape. I don't know how the Dark Lord could ever agree to such vile miscegenation, even if you promised you'd find out everything she knew about Potty. You haven't managed to produce any heir..."

Protection? Rights? Status? Heir? My mind whirls. What has he done?

Professor Snape - Severus? - stands so suddenly that he knocks over his glass. When he speaks, though, his voice is still cool and controlled.

"When I told you to behave respectfully I meant it. I will escort you out. Return when you remember my place."

I am third only to Lucius and Bellatrix, he'd once told me. Draco seems to recognize it. His eyes widen, and Severus follows him out the door. I'm left alone in his office, chewing mechanically on a bit of potato, sipping black coffee and mulling what Draco said.

I wait for Severus to return to explain, but the sun sinks and the food grows cold.

He's too scared to come back.

I cross my arms over my chest and move to the long windows to watch the sunset. I pull open the drapes. The horizon is a fiery pink gold against the forest-silhouette.

Then I look down.

A black hood, black robe and a black-daubed face peers through the glass at me. A pair of blue eyes, so bright they seem to glow, stand out from the prowler's face. He stares at me. Whoever it is - a man - lifts his wand, points it my way.

I turn on my heel, bolt for the door. I run, run, pushing myself. Professor Snape, Severus, startles me by appearing noiselessly at my side. He catches my shoulders, halting me mid-stride.

"Hermione?"

He looks so concerned. One hand brushes down my arm, lingering on the bracelet.

"If it was what Draco said, I will not..."

"No... Prof... Severus," I say between breaths. "In your office... someone was watching me."

"Draco?"

"No, someone bigger, brawnier, in a black robe and hood, with blue eyes. A prowler of some sort. They pointed their wand at me..."

My heart still races, and I cling to his shoulders, trying to catch my breath again.

"Come, Hermione, let us look. I can't imagine anyone breaking my wards. We are quite secure." He hesitates before adding, "Don't be frightened."

He keeps his arm around me, leading me through the corridor, back to the office. In my terror I left the curtains open, and the sky has darkened to a deep sapphire-blue, studded with stars. The air smells richly of coffee and cardamom. The remains of our noon meal sit congealing upon the creamy bone china.

"Where, Hermione?"

"Right there." I point, and feel embarrassed at the tremble in my voice. "There, on the ground, beside that forsythia."

He frowns, presses his face to the glass.

"There's a boot-print in the soil. It's fresh - we had rain this morning."

I shiver. "Why would someone skulk around your property?"

"The Dark Lord has threatened death to any English witch, wizard or Muggle who trespasses upon Death Eater territory. I cannot imagine anyone willing to risk their lives by crossing onto my land." He furrows his brow, then pulls me closer to him, so he can look into my eyes. "Stay near me, Hermione - yes, a few feet behind - while I check the wards in your bedchamber."

I do as he says and trail him at an arm's length. He has his wand out, as do I.

In my bedroom, he carefully steps over my belongings, past the tiny glass bottles filled with skin lotions, hair serums and shampoos I've brewed for myself. He pulls aside my drapes, presses a hand to the window, and steps back, eyes thoughtful.

"Someone's tried to break the wards. They managed to lower one set, but the second set is still strong."

It must be an assassin, I tell myself. If it were anything, anyone else... no. I'll keep telling myself that it was a prowler. It has to be.

"Someone's trying to kill me, aren't they?"

He shakes his head. "It makes no sense, Hermione. I am too powerful, my home too strongly barricaded, for anyone to have a chance at harming you. Older Pureblood homes, like mine, were built as fortresses. After the last poisoning attempt, the Dark Lord made it quite clear that you were under his protection. Perhaps I've overlooked something. I thought I'd considered every avenue for your safety..."

His voice trails off, and he places a hand on my shoulder. He looks lost and sad. For once, he doesn't school his features into that blank look I detest so much. I turn and burrow into his side. He freezes, and after a minute of indecision, drapes his hand over my hair.

"You have nothing to fear," he whispers into my hair. "I'll strengthen the wards tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow?"

"I cannot do it properly at night," he says. "Our intruder is either very foolish or very strong. I suspect the latter - I cannot feel his presence on the property, and Loki is magically bound to inform me if he senses an intruder."

He lingers, holding my shoulders.

"What now?" I ask.

"The most heavily defended part of the house is the master bedchamber - as is true in most older dwellings. The wards were built into the bricks and mortar. Stay there, just until morning. I give you a wand oath that I will make a bed for myself upon the window bench. If you would prefer, I will transfigure the room so that you aren't reminded..."

He looks guiltily to the ground. Ah, yes, our best-forgotten first encounter, his preferred euphemism.

"Severus, don't be silly."

He smiles - broadly - at my use of his first name, and squeezes my shoulders. I don't think I've ever seen him smile like that, without his lips pressed together. When I stare at him, he moves one hand to his mouth. He's self-conscious, I realize, of his teeth. How strange to think he's got his own soft spots.

"Severus, you don't have to worry so much, not about propriety, anyhow," I say. "I'll stay in the upstairs bedchamber, just for the night. You know I trust you."

He nods slowly, tentatively, pulls me just a bit closer to his body. I could wriggle away. When I don't, he tugs my hand and leads me up the staircase. He holds the bedroom door open for me, and as I scamper in, my fear vanishes. After the door clatters shut behind him, he sets extra wards on his door, on his windows, on the floor and ceiling.

I kneel atop his red and black bedlinens. He makes himself comfortable in the fat upholstered chair furthest from me. He's quiet, and sips on a cup of water, watching me from under that curtain of hair.

I'll let him stew a little before I start questioning him.

---

I'd visited Professors McGonagall, Sinistra, Flitwick, Sprout, and Vector. I'd said good-bye to Hagrid and Filch, and tried to spend some happy moments with my other classmates. They couldn't know about my mission. Top secret, as Muggles say.

That left only Snape. I'd saved the best for last.

I plodded down the stairs to the dungeons. His detention began in twenty minutes, but I wanted to tell him how much I respected him before I left. Just in case.

I tapped on his office door. No response. I peered into the Potions classroom. Empty.

"Miss Granger?"

"Hello, Headmaster," I replied.

"Looking for Severus... Professor Snape, child?"

I nodded. "I just wanted to tell him... that I respected him, and... well, I suppose it doesn't matter. He's going to save me tomorrow. I can tell him then."

"Of course." The Headmaster paused. "I believe he just left Hogwarts to join Voldemort. He said he'd be back this evening to discuss tomorrow's plans. Go on, Miss Granger, spend a few hours to yourself."

"I'll try to, Sir. I have detention now." I sighed. "Professor Snape's still angry with me."

Dumbledore smiled, but his eyes looked distant.

"It's only because you're his favourite student. He's far too attached to you."

I blushed. Dumbledore turned away and peered into the Potions classroom. He looked puzzled.

"Severus never leaves the classroom in a mess..."

He stared at the holly leaves and glass still over the floor. My mess.

"How very, very strange," he muttered. "Anyhow, Miss Granger, go complete your detention, but if you wish to talk to anyone, I will be in my office. I am always there to welcome Severus back after Voldemort's meetings... and I'm happy to give you advice if you wish it."

"Yes, Sir, I'll keep that in mind."

He turned to leave, then turned back to me with a strange, guarded look. "And, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"Tomorrow - when Severus comes for you - wait until the rest of the Order arrives for you before you leave with him."

"Why, Sir?" I asked, confused.

Dumbledore shook his head, then smiled. "No reason, just planning for remote possibilities... you'll be safe tomorrow, Miss Granger. Do not worry. You'll survive. The Order will remain, and I promise you'll be rescued."

"Er... yes, Sir."

He turned and shuffled up the stairs. I didn't say good-bye to him - after all, I'd see him in an hour. I picked up a basket and made my way to the Forbidden Forest, Dumbledore's words quickly forgotten.

---

"You're very quiet tonight," Severus finally speaks up from his corner chair.

"Am I?"

I nibble at a Muggle chocolate bar Severus just happened to have in one of his drawers - alongside a half-dozen Muggle books and a music-box, a souvenir from Opera Garnier's performance of Fidelio. Had he planned excuses to give them to me, like the bracelet? I wonder if perhaps the jewelry was a test, something less personal to gauge my reactions.

"You know you're being quiet, stop playing coy with me."

I stare back at him. He shifts his spidery limbs in the too-small seat.

"You look terribly uncomfortable in that chair. Come here and sit. We're both adults, and there's plenty of space on the bed."

"You cannot be serious."

"Why not?" I ask. "If you're that concerned, put a small ward in the middle of the bed to keep us from touching. It'll be far more comfortable, I promise."

"Well, now that I have your promise, I shall leap under the covers," he replies snidely.

"Oh, stop being difficult, it's a mutually acceptable agreement. I want you comfortable, and you want conversation."

"I want no such thing. You constantly chatter. It is simply a surprise when I hear silence whilst I am in your presence. A welcome surprise."

"Fine then, I guess I'll just go to sleep."

Feeling huffy, I turn over and face the opposite side of the room. I don't even realize he's moved until the bed sinks beside me. He sits stiffly against the headboard, looking uncomfortable and leaving two feet between him and I.

"Perhaps I have become come to appreciate your chatter." He sighs. "I assume you're mulling on what Draco said."

I slide closer to him. "I want you to explain why I'm here."

"May we... leave this discussion for another time?"

He's warded himself in - he can't escape me, not easily.

"No, I don't want to leave it to another time." My voice rises. "I've been here... months and months... and you still haven't told me anything."

"You're not a stupid girl, Hermione, you must've figured it out," he replies, voice laden with self-loathing. "My idiocy is transparent to all."

"I want to hear you tell me. I can't believe it any other way, don't you see?"

"No I do not see. Do you wish to torture me? To mock me?"

"No, you're not trying that on me again," I say, then look at him sadly. "Before, I thought we were as close to friends as a student and teacher could be. You used to talk to me. I cared terribly for you, you know."

He looks at me wistfully before letting his head droop.

"I don't have friends. Those closest to me have always wanted something. You were the only one even remotely..." His voice trails off. "I have no idea how to treat someone as a friend, Hermione."

From another man, it might sound like melodrama designed to elicit sympathy, but Severus's voice doesn't hold any trace of self pity. He's more alone than even I am. At least I have Loki, and for a while I had Ginny.

I wriggle over and put my arms around his shoulders. I haven't anywhere else to go. I haven't anyone else. Neither does he.

"I have plenty of time to teach you how to be a friend, if you want it."

He looks so genuinely surprised. When he begins speaking, the words are tentative.

"I knew I couldn't save you when you were to act as bait. Lucius would have killed you. He would've raped you, then tortured you to death. He would've saved it in a Pensieve, for later entertainment, perhaps to show me. He would've thought it quite amusing."

He stares out the window, eyes darkened. I can see his patience

"I couldn't allow him near you, Hermione. The thought of him touching you... then Albus told me to push you in Weasley's direction. Weasley. Weasley! Albus knew... he knew as well as I that Weasley was not even close to your equal. Weasley didn't even realize you needed protection. Is that not the first duty of a man?"

He's becoming agitated, the thought of his own self-perceived stupidity making him angrier and angrier as he speaks.

"I still don't understand why..." I begin, but he doesn't let me finish.

A strange yowl rips from his throat - frustration - and he moves back from me. "Can you not see what lies right before you? I had fallen in love with you, you stupid girl!"

I stare at him. His face turns red. He looks like a caged panther. He's watching me from under a fringe of hair, eyes narrowed, as if ready to attack me, or perhaps to run.

"In love with me." I repeat his own words, slowly. "In love with me."

He turns. "I did not tell you so you would mock me, Miss Granger. Believe me, I am quite able to do so myself, and have, frequently."

That still doesn't explain everything else - why he brought me here, why he locked me up, why he didn't just try to get me away from Ron to ply me with his charms.

But then, what charms does Severus think he has? He loathes everything about himself.

"What did you plan, once you had me here, Severus?"

"I don't know..."

"Tell me the truth. You always have a plan, and a counterplan. Always.."

He looks guardedly at me for a minute, then speaks defeatedly.

"After the battle, I imagined you'd think me your rescuer. I thought..." He swallows. "I thought that as your rescuer, you might reciprocate my feelings, if only a fraction. Once you came here, I realized you loathed me so much that you wanted to die. I could barely stand to look at you, knowing I was the cause. That first time, that second time, when you allowed me to... have you in my bed... I thought perhaps you did not wholly loathe me, but you just lay there. When I finished, it seemed little better than an assault."

"Why me, though? I never treated you any differently than I treated anyone else."

The silence balloons. He looks sick at this sudden baring of his soul. I reach over and brush back a lock of his hair, knowing that the simplest of gestures have the greatest response in him. He touches my hands, tracing the veins under the skin, refusing to meet my eyes.

"You were always kind with me, even when I wasn't kind with you. You conversed with me, and shared drinks and books with me. You hugged me once, held my hand twice when I was ill. I remember it so clearly. Nobody touched me like that - not of their own volition. You didn't get anything from it, you simply wanted to hear my answers." His voice drops. "I wished to scoff at your sentimentality, but I found you enchanting. You were worth more than Lucius, more than Potter or Weasley, yet nobody seemed to recognize that except me."

"Oh, Severus..." I whisper.

I knew. Somewhere within me, I knew, but I've been denying it to myself for months with the logical response - if he cared, he wouldn't have kept you captive. Logic, I realize now, plays little in Severus's actions. He's so inept. I never thought what it must be like for someone who'd never been treated with anything more than disgust.

"I didn't bother finding out who survived the attack of Hogwarts, Hermione. I cared only about installing you here, making sure you were safe and warded against the outside world. Potter seems to have survived, but I cannot say for your friends, and I will not lie to you and say I care, terribly..."

Harry is safe. Ginny, I imagine, is safe, and has found some way to escape. There's still hope. If I escaped, I could likely find a resistance movement, or members of the Order, if I tried hard enough.

But then, what of Severus, left behind? If I had a way out, I'd leave him, but I don't. So I'll try to make the best of it. Perhaps we will be friends, someday.

"Once I'd fallen in love with you, like your plan, then what?"

He scowls. "I was a fool."

I shake my head and interlace my fingers through his, playing with those too-sharp knucklebones. He lets out an involuntary sigh and blushes scarlet, but answers my question anyhow. My touch is like Veritaserum.

"I asked the Dark Lord to grant you the same privileges as a Pureblood. I knew eventually I'd want an heir...I wished to have a child with you, Hermione. I could imagine him so clearly..." His lip curls in disgust. "If I die - I suspected I might, early in the battles - that way you are guaranteed an inheritance and your freedom. If we ever had a child, it would be considered full blood."

Silence.

"I never, ever had any aspirations for - how did you put it? - the wife, dog and the lot, not until I noticed you last year. Then the idea refused to leave me. A soppish, deluded old man who felt rather like Humbert Humbert."

He sounds acid-bitter. I squeeze his hand.

"I'm a not very partial to dogs, actually."

He smiles, the mood lightening just a bit, and continues. "I dangled the possibility in front of the Dark Lord that you might know Potter's weaknesses. I offered to kill Dumbledore. The Dark Lord happily granted me you in exchange for the Headmaster."

He's a murderer. He imprisoned me. I know he was wrong. Yet I understand why he did it.

"You've thought about this a very long time, Severus."

"For nearly a year." His voice is still flat. "I will make you a wand-oath never to lay a hand upon you unless it is invited. In addition, Loki cheerfully mentioned that if I ever struck you in anger or discipline, he would poison my food."

It shouldn't be funny, but I can't help but crack a grin.

"You have a knack for inspiring undying devotion from mean-spirited outcasts, my dear Miss Granger."

Tears prickle my eyes through my smile. He swallows, fishes a handkerchief from his bedside table, and presses it into my hand.

"Being friends with someone isn't easy, Severus," I say, voice thick. "You love me. Is that reason enough for you to try? It might not work. We might end up hating one another. But I'd like to be friends. I'd consider more - with time."

"Whatever it is you want me to do to earn your good graces, tell me, Hermione. Gifts? Would that please you? Or perhaps..."

I laugh. He looks so drained from this heart to heart. His bedchamber is warded so tightly that not even Loki can get in. Just him and I. If he wants me, sexually, he could just tforce me. He doesn't, though. He just sits there, babbling and staring at me like I'm a boggart or the squid.

"I think what I want is to get some rest. You need it too, Severus. Let's sleep for now. Tomorrow we'll strengthen the wards together. After that... well, it depends on our mood, I suppose."

"Here I expected a day-by-day long-term plan."

Now his lips twitch, but he still has that look of uncertainty. I smile back at him and nestle a bit deeper into the blankets.

He lies down on the other side, leaving me a wide berth, all his muscles tense. I press a hand to his back, wanting him to know that I want to be here, that he doesn't disgust me, that I trust him.

"Good-night."

"Sweet dreams," he replies. "My dear."

I smile at the endearment and let my eyes flutter shut. For the first time in months, I don't dream about the past.

---