When Remus Lupin had worked in this office almost three years ago it had been much too grand for his own belongings. There was too much space for his sparse collection of personal memorabilia. Now that the office belonged to Amycus Carrow it seemed smaller, less grand, less welcoming and even sparser. Outside, the dreary sky did nothing to lighten the room and the inhabitants sat in dimness.

Professor McGonagall entertained him once every two weeks, to keep him updated on the happenings in the school and he for her, the happenings outside of the school. She made it no secret whose side she was on, it was undeniably obvious she could not entertain him in the open. Amycus rarely used his office at all, and the familiarity of it calmed Lupin's nerves.

McGonagall was perched on the edge of the desk, standing at almost her normal height, him scrunched in to a student desk just like it had been twenty years ago.

"What of the school Minerva?"

His voice echoed in the empty stone room. Minerva looked unsure. Surely the issues surrounding Hermione Granger's return to the school were of the Order's concern. She was after all an inducted member and she was supposedly meant to be with Harry Potter at the moment. But something about her condition seemed too personal to be talked about, as if Severus and Miss Granger had been inducted in to a personal affair of their own choice rather than from the doings of a curse.

Not to mention the implications of their unconventional gathering. She didn't want to dwell on that, but Severus was already facing more damning assumptions about his person without this to add to it. Lupin however, spared no time delving in to his school chum's predicament.

"Hermione Granger has come back? Why?"

"Well-"

"Better question, why is she under Severus' care?" He held up a piece of parchment, with the Potion Master's hurried scrawl as testimony.

"Remus, please. I assume Severus told you about Miss Granger's condition?" Remus' face said it all. "Oh dear." She touched her face lightly and looked out at the quidditch pitch for a brief moment.

"Minerva?" Remus leaned forward in concern.

"Miss Granger has been severely cursed Remus. We're doing all we can to cure her but-"

"Cursed? Does this have anything to do with Ronald Weasley's death?"

McGonagall's hands shot to her mouth. It seemed both parties had different pieces of the puzzle.

"Ronald Weasley? Dead?"

Remus nodded. "Severus sent Molly and Arthur a letter a few weeks ago. Killed, by Voldemort." He held the note up again, this time out towards her so that she may read it herself. McGonogall scanned the short, uninformative note, but it was more information than Snape had given to her on any account.

"They must have been caught together." Minerva stated, standing up straight. "Severus said he knew nothing about the boy."

"Well, he did." There was an accusation in his voice. Why would he purposely lie to Minerva McGonagall of all people? There was something not right about this situation. Remus Lupin had in fact worked almost to success in ridding himself of any personal reasons for disliking Snape, but some things were objectively clear to him. "What kind of curse?"

"Very dark, old magic Remus. She had been branded with Severus' Family sigil, bound to him forever." McGonagall explained all she knew, about how both Professor and student were fairing, what kind of side effects the girl was experiencing. She hadn't been privy to the mental break downs or arguments the pair had and naturally assumed they were faring better than anyone could imagine.

"And Harry?" Minerva asked.

"We aren't sure where he is. We sent word to him not to trouble himself with finding his friends. That we would look for them, but he's just like his father."

The matriarch nodded silently. Suddenly things had taken a terrible turn.

Remus squared his shoulders and finally asked the question he really wanted the answer to. "And Severus? How is the school?"

Minerva protected Severus Snape in all forms and manners. It might have been her dedication to Albus that had promoted such a loyalty to the boy, or only her ability to see a situation clearer than anyone else. From the moment he had stepped in to Hogwarts as a young first year, to the time now when he stood as headmaster, she had defended him.

"The school's intentions will never change. To make the best out of every young witch and wizard that walks through its doors."

Remus acquiesced. The gleam in her eyes and the bite in her brogue had him faltering. As a young boy and as a grown man.

This war had not been kind. Remus, like most of the order, was working in secret – job lost, income completely eradicated. His clothes were worse for wear and with an expectant child on the way, he had aged considerably under the stress of finding a lasting solution to the anarchy. The look of complete distrust he wore now, did little to alleviate his image.

"Trust Severus." She said. "Besides that, most things as of now are out of our hands Mr. Lupin."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She hadn't shown herself at breakfast – which he had been glad for. He was a wreck. He hadn't trusted himself to fall asleep for quite some time until he was too overcome with exhaustion to desire anything but sleep. He was spiteful as he poured himself a cup of tea, bitter over his burdens.

A cracked and yellowed untitled text lay beside his arm – something he found in the restricted section of the library early this morning. Like all the other books it said very little about the ancient magic Voldemort had used but had still contained a bit more.

The curse was supposed to be uncompromising if cast properly. The cursed stood no chance fighting it – much like the ancient magic tying house elves to their masters. He had no doubt the Dark Lord had cast the magic properly. He was a great wizard indeed and only a fool would deny it. And so these malfunctions so to speak – Miss Granger's ability to ignore him, to deny him even the smallest things was a default of her own making. It stemmed from something inside the girl – from their connection. If he could only figure out what that fault was, and exploit it, they might stand a chance of ending it.

He winced as he remembered how it had felt before he had been fully awake – the welcome heat of her person, the way she had been forced to stroke his chest. It had seemed almost natural. Until he realized it was not. And now he felt himself suppressing the memories of it, encouraging a small desire to have it replayed over again. He must have always wanted something like this – not specifically her, and now she was the perfect vessel. No, he would have to show more propriety.

He set his tea cup down, suddenly feeling an insistent urge to leave, but froze in the vestibule. The sound of Alecto's domineering screech echoed outside his chambers. She was reprimanding students, yelling at them at such a high intensity he could barely make out what she was saying. But she had no business in this part of the school, not unless she meant to-

The sharp rap at his door answered that particular question. He wandlessly locked Hermione's door before answering Alecto's call.

"Severus." She breathed, apparently unprepared. He raised a questioning eyebrow but said nothing, allowing her to stammer and squirm. "I was-I was just in this part of the castle and I thought, well I just wanted to ask if you'd like to walk with me to breakfast." In the dim lighting of the dungeons he could almost call her acceptable looking. The harsh lines of her face and the masculine build of her form were not as apparent. But her presence only was enough to make his skin crawl with dislike.

"Indeed. " he walked out and closed his chamber doors behind him. "Unfortunately I just had breakfast and if I'm not mistaken, first class starts in ten minutes."

"Perhaps dinner?" he turned abruptly and she automatically lowered her head in apology. She had always been brash, prone to mistakes, prone to punishment. And Severus was never known for patience. "I'm sorry." She muttered. Nevertheless, it was his job to act as inconspicuous as possible. Any wrong move or indecipherable act on his part and the entirety of his and everyone else's misfortunes would be for naught.

"Perhaps." He drawled, turning in a powerful gesture and walking away in long, quick strides. He could hear her teetering in success and it set his teeth on edge.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed and stared blankly at the floor. The room had been set in neutral taste and she had to admit it was proving to be much preferable over the tent her Ron and Harry had been sleeping in.

The thought of Harry and Ron. Surely they wouldn't be so foolish as to halt everything and come looking for her. On second thought, she imagined that was just what they were doing. And probably going in to harm's way in the process. How could they even think to imagine she was in one of the safest places? And there was no way to even tell them that. No way to assuage their doubts at all.

They had taken all of her possessions when they took her. She supposed they thought there must have been some kind of clue as to what Harry might be up to. But she had made sure Harry had been carrying the bag, not her. So they found nothing.

Her cheeks burned as she heard her professor come in for his mid-day break. She had figured out his schedule as soon as she could so she could make herself sparse when he was around. It was better that way, especially after last night. Her cheeks burned and her tattoo started to tingle as she thought back on it.

It had been what he wanted. She told herself that again and again and again. And yet, it still felt like her fault, like she should have been able to stop it somehow. She thought back to how it felt, the pull, the complete lack of control. She could imagine it was something akin to the Imperious. Even now, as he sat in his study, she could feel a small pull towards him, to seek him out and it shamed her.

She still had no idea about his true loyalties, though she could safely assume he had no intentions of hurting her. But the way he had looked at her, when he found her in his bed, the way he had jumped out and spoken to her.

"Fine. Leave now. This is inappropriate."

And how inappropriate it had been. She winced again. She could hear him tinkering with the tea service outside. For once, it was an uninviting sound. The clinking continued, no milk, no sugar. He took a Scottish thistle in hot water.

"Argh." She groaned as the tingling in her tattoo became a shooting pain. She peered down at it but it was the same red as it usually was, no different. Ever since last night it had been giving her problems, but this pain was new. She tried to hush herself so that he may not hear – that was all she needed, for him to have an even bigger advantage over her. But the pain persisted, doubled even until she was forced to hover near the door and attempt to open it.

It was locked. And the pull from yesterday remerged in a powerful overtake of her emotions. Without warning her entire body was thrown in to the door as she tried drastically to turn the knob. Again and again her body was used as a battering ram in an attempt for the curse to get closer to Snape. Finally to her relief, the door swung open at his command and she fell on the floor, gasping but instantly relieved when his hand came around her wrist to help her up.

"Miss Granger what-"

He was cut off by her hands grasping at his robes, searching against her own free will around his person. He grasped both wrists as she struggled against him.

"Please, make it stop." She waved frantically around, trying to get out of his grasp.

"What is the curse telling you?" his voice was level, academic, as if he was studying the behaviors of a Hippogriff instead of a young girl. The pain however had brought her to her knees and she lurched towards him, managing to free her wrists and wrap her arms around his legs. There was a wrongness to it immediately, the fact that she was his student, he her professor. The fact that he was a known death eater, a murderer. And yet there was a profound rightness to it that soothed her instantly and flushed the pain away. As if rewarding her, her body cooled down immediately as she rested her head against his thigh. He did not pull away but only allowed her this comfort.

"What is the curse telling you?" he said again. His voice was calm and his demeanor sturdy, but she dared not look up at him. Her own discomfort was quick to reappear as she let go of him slightly.

"To comfort you." She muttered.

"I beg your pardon?"

"To comfort you."

"Well Miss Granger, I can say with all certainty this is not comforting." He forced her to let go as he stepped away and looked down at her. He looked every bit the malicious man he always had. Indignation swelled in her chest. How dare he make her feel bad! Logically speaking, they were his desires! He seemed to sense this sudden change in her. He knelt down and sighed as he helped her up.

"Last night… I apologize." He said softly. "This isn't ideal for either of us and I apologize for how I treated you Miss Granger." She nodded, suddenly filled with compassion. It wasn't her own compassion, as the tattoo tingled in approval.

"I can't fight it-"

"I know." He bowed his head in agreement. There was a silence between them. It wasn't uncomfortable but it wasn't easy either. He couldn't say it wouldn't happen again. It just had and he seemed unable to control his emotions as well as he believed he could. He could only make it easier for her, make her feel as if she wasn't the culprit.

He cleared his throat and she was brought back to attention. "I have dinner plans this evening, I will be back later than usual." She nodded. It was of little discomfort to her. In fact, his lack of presence soothed her and she felt as she had before the curse. He took one last weary glance at her, another thing he had no control over, and left her to her thoughts.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione's tents were always put up with grace. With a flick of her wand, it had gone up so effortlessly. Harry's tents were sloppy, lopsided, often fell down during the night leaving him in a sporadic jolt back in to consciousness. It had taken him several days to get over the loss of his friends, which had made him realize that they were the only things that kept him afloat. Now…

He had realized, after the initial anger wore off, that there was no way to find Hermione. He also realized he had very little chance of succeeding without her. She had been quick thinking, shoving the bag of supplies and books at him as soon as she saw strangers with wands drawn. Without the books and supplies he would be absolutely nowhere.

He had tried summoning Lupin back through the fire. It seemed like his best bet. He had always relied on the guidance of Remus Lupin and now more than ever he needed guidance. But with growing anxiety he realized it was Hermione who knew how to communicate with fire. Not him.

He tried thinking of all the Death Eaters he knew of – Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, The Carrows… Severus Snape. But it wasn't as if he could go door to door and simply ask for his friend back. What little sense he did have told him he'd be dead before the second knock.

His only option as of now was to study the books she had left behind for possible clues. She had already started making notes in the margins with pencil.

"Horcrux – possibility of Harry?"

"Dumbledore's Wand?"

"The Snitch?"

She hadn't been able to make too much leeway, she had become obsessed with the book Dumbledore had left her in his will. He took it out and examined the fine gold markings. The inscription on the front page was what had piqued her attention. He remembered being so annoyed with her obsession but now he would do anything to have her back.

As his tent flopped around in the busy Scottish rainfall, and his magical flames finally became unsustainable, Harry sat in darkness and imagined the world as it might be now that he was failing.