Warning

This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.

Chapter 11 - Things that Happened in the Night

"It's after Midnight, Harry," Ron's voice was becoming agitated. "We should do something."

Harry had to admit that he was worried too. "There's nothing we can do, though, Ron," he replied, uncomfortably. "She's practically told us that she's seeing someone. She can make her own decisions about who she sees and how late she should stay out."

Ron was not convinced. "But, we've no idea who it is or anything. Besides - I've got a feeling that there's more to this than her meeting a boy. All this stuff with her project is giving me the creeps. She heads down to the dungeon almost every evening and doesn't get back 'till late. She's hardly even been to the library for two weeks. It's just not like her."

"So what do you want to do?" asked Harry. It was clear that Ron would not give up easily on this, so maybe it would be best to see what he suggested.

Ron thought for a moment, then answered, decidedly, "I want to go and check out the Potions classroom where she's been working. Just to see if there's anything - well - odd."

"Do you really think that will help?"

Ron shrugged, helplessly. "I don't know. It's just a feeling. But at least it's better than doing nothing!"

Eventually, Harry was persuaded and, feeling more guilty with every step, they made their way to the dungeon. Neither of them liked the idea of spying on Hermione - especially under the cover of Harry's invisibility cloak - but they felt they had to know what was going on, and there was no other way they could wander around the school at this late hour, without attracting attention.

They reached the dungeon without much difficulty - there was a worrying moment when Filch seemed to hear something as they passed, but he moved off in the wrong direction - and they were soon outside the door to the classroom. Just in case Snape was inside, Harry knocked quietly, and listened for an answer (they could always run if the Professor was actually there), then, hearing nothing, Harry reached out and turned the handle.

Locked. Raising his wand, he muttered "Alohomora!" and the lock clicked. With a last quick glance up and down the dark corridor to make sure no-one was around, they opened the door just enough to let them through, then slipped inside. They shed the invisibility cloak as soon as the door was safely closed behind them, and looked around. The room was empty, but one desk in the center looked like someone was still working there. Ingredients were set out on the table, one with the packet left open and the contents half spilled onto the desk, several scrolls lay open, as though someone was in the middle of reading them, and the cauldron still had a handle protruding from it.

Harry's first thought was that whoever had left the room like this would be in big trouble when Snape saw it. He hated disorganization, and would never have allowed anyone to leave their work set out like that. They both stepped closer, to examine the items more closely.

"This is Hermione's stuff," said Ron, suddenly. "Look - that's her bag on the floor!"

He was right. Harry picked up some of the things from the desk, acknowledging, unhappily, that they were hers. "Why would she have left everything here like this?" he asked, bewildered.

Ron was just as mystified as he. "Snape'll kill her if he sees everything left like this! How could she have left it all?" They continued poking around, more and more baffled and concerned about why it was there.

"I wonder what happened to this potion," Harry muttered, stirring the blackened mixture and puzzling over its unusual consistency, which was thick and gloopy.

Ron, however, wasn't listening. Hermione's quill rested on one of the scrolls, looking like it was in use, and Ron was studying the neat writing. Most of it was in their friend's infuriatingly precise hand, but the last two lines, while equally immaculate, were a different style. It looked very familiar. Harry turned to see what had caught Ron's attention so much, and it was he, reading over the other's shoulder, who recognized the penmanship.

"That's Snape's writing," he gasped. "Look. It's the same as the labels on all these bottles." Harry tried to find some difference in the writing styles, to disprove his own statement, but could find nothing. There was no doubt about it - the last two lines of Hermione's notes were written by Professor Snape.

The same questions were going through the minds of both boys. Why was Hermione's work left out like this in such an un-Hermione-like way? Why was Snape's handwriting in her notes? Most importantly - Where was Hermione?

Ron voiced all of these difficulties for both of them in a single question. "What the hell is going on?"

A sharp voice from behind them made them both spin around.

"That's exactly what I'd like to know!"

"Professor Snape?" Argus Filch's voice accompanied the insistent knocking that was penetrating Snape's sleep. The knock came again, then the voice, a little louder.

Damn the man! What could be so important that he would disturb people at this time of night?

Carefully, he moved to extricate himself from Hermione's sleeping arms, and pulled on a loose robe, irritably. If the caretaker knocked any more he would wake her. He hurried through the outer room, to the door, pulling the heavy crimson drapes across the doorway between living room and bedroom as he passed. He pulled open the door and glared at the intruder.

"Yes, Filch?" He made no attempt to cover his annoyance, but Filch seemed not to notice.

"I thought that you might like to know, Professor," he began in a voice that grated on Snape's ears like nails down a blackboard, "that I've just caught two students breaking into your classroom. No doubt stealing ingredients from the stores, or brewing illicit potions."

Under normal circumstances, Snape would have dealt with the matter himself, immediately, but the thought of the warm and beautiful body in his bed overrode everything else, and he had no intention of leaving it for longer than was absolutely necessary. "Then please be good enough to handle the matter yourself, and I will speak with you in the morning. Arrange for them to report to me tomorrow night at eight o'clock for detention."

Filch seemed to take this as confirmation that he had done the right thing. "Certainly, Professor. And I will also arrange to have the mess they've made in the classroom cleaned up."

It was an offhand remark, but it triggered alarm bells in Snape's mind. Hermione's things were where they had left them. That must be what Filch meant! Quickly, he interceded. "No. I'll look at the evidence myself in the morning. Leave everything exactly where it is and touch nothing!"

The caretaker seemed to feel that this would be very suitable, and left to deal with the two students. Despite Snape's dislike of the man, he had to admit that their ideas on the severity of punishments for rule-breakers were very much in line. Filch would deal with the wrongdoers appropriately, and he would have time to come up with a suitable detention for them.

His thoughts returned to his bed, and he locked the door and returned to Hermione. Her arms slipped around him once again as he slid into bed beside her. She didn't wake, but smiled in her sleep as he stroked her face. He watched her for a long time.

What had he done to deserve this angel? She was so beautiful, so gentle, so forgiving. After everything he had put her through, she would have every right to hate him, but she treated him like he was someone special. Who else would do that? Even amongst the teachers, there were few people who would call him a friend. Hermione was the first person in a very long time who actually chose to spend time with him. She enjoyed his company and liked to talk with him. She was interested in what he had to say, cared about what he thought. Whatever he had done to deserve this, he knew that he felt more loved, more needed than at any time he could ever remember before.

Am I in love with this girl? The question suddenly popped into his head out of nowhere. He certainly felt like he was in love - not that he had much experience of these matters - he ached when she wasn't with him, felt elated when she was. He admired everything about her - her mind, her body, her soul - the way she smiled at him made him feel like his heart was on fire, and being in her presence was bringing out the best in him. This must be love.

But the realization of this made him feel terror. He was so much older than she, and could hardly be her ideal man, despite her current feelings for him. If he told her that he was in love with her, he would lose her, he was certain. He would frighten her and drive her away, making her think truthfully about their relationship, and she would see his flaws and weaknesses. If he forced her to think about where they were going, she would realize that they could not possibly have a future together. Whatever he was feeling, he had to keep it to himself, or risk driving her away. It would happen eventually, but he had to hold on to her for as long as he could. The day that she really thought about this would be the day his heart would turn black. Don't ruin this, Severus, by scaring her away.

But despite his thoughts on this, as he drew her warm body close and drifted into sleep, the words formed on his lips and softly escaped, unwilling to be held back. "I love you, Hermione."

Neither of them was aware that the words had been whispered, but they drifted into their subconscious, and there was a soft smile on each face as they slept.

High above them, approaching the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, Ron and Harry were considerably less happy. Things could not have gone worse for them that evening. They had not only failed to find Hermione, they now had considerably more worries about her than when they'd set out, after finding her things left in the Potions classroom like that. Secondly, they had earned themselves a detention with Snape the following night, and thirdly, Harry's invisibility cloak was still in the dungeon where they had left it.

Filch had not seen the cloak, and they'd considered trying to go back for it, but the caretaker's promise to be watching the classroom made that impossible. They'd been told that the room would be left until the morning, so that Snape could see the state of the room. He would know immediately whose cloak it was and would probably confiscate it indefinitely. Worst of all, the rest of the things he would find in there were Hermione's. When he saw them, would that put her project in jeopardy? He had been so horrible to her in the last couple of classes - far worse than usual - that they were sure he was looking for any excuse to go back on his word to let her complete her project. It meant so much to her.

Dreading the morning, they trudged up to their rooms, knowing that they had no option but to wait.