Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to the immeasurable genius of JK Rowling; I just like to borrow them and play with them.


Snape woke early the following morning and lay still for a moment, marvelling at the feeling of deep relaxation that had spread throughout his body. He felt… free… for want of a better word. Just for one night, and a few spare moments this morning, he could pretend there was nothing else he had to do; no obligation, no expectations… nothing but him and the young witch beside him.

Hermione had shifted during the night and was lying on her back, her head turned towards him. Each exhalation of breath sent a soft, warm puff of air whispering over the bare skin of his shoulder.

The early morning light filtering in past the half-open curtains cast her face in a soft, pale light, and her eyelashes stood out darker against the pale skin of her cheek. After all the time she had spent indoors lately – mostly with him – she was almost as pale as he. Her natural complexion retained a hint of colour, though, the lightest scatter of freckles across her nose and cheeks from a rare moment of sun.

One of her hands was wound in the edge of the duvet, pulled up to cover most of her naked body, but he could see the top of her breasts rising and falling as she breathed. She murmured something unintelligible in her sleep and turned ever-so-slightly towards him; the duvet slipped down, exposing more of one breast.

He licked his lips, unable to tear his eyes from the enticing sight. Finding himself unconsciously leaning towards her, though, he shook himself and reached out to pull the duvet up again, concealing temptation beneath it. The last thing he wanted was for her to catch him ogling her as she slept, and while she has responded to his touch last night with fervour, waking to find him tasting her flesh may not produce the same reaction… yet.

She was so unlike anyone he had ever been with before. The way she had watched him last night with such concentration and intensity – taking in every detail - he could almost see her filing his actions and reactions away in that brilliant mind of hers for future reference. As he had said to her the previous night, she had no idea how much she had given him, and it was far more than he had been meaning when he made that pronouncement before dinner.

At the culmination of last night, he finally understood the joy and pleasure of being with someone he loved, and who loved him in return. Oh, it was probably sentimental of him – she had that effect on him, he had noticed – but for once he didn't care how maudlin he sounded.

The women in his youth had been few and far between, and usually looking for nothing more than a quick shag, still half-dressed by the time it was over. It had been enough for him; when he began playing both sides, he daren't let a witch too close in case they turned out to be either a spy for Voldemort or became a target because of him.

When the Dark Lord had been defeated for the first time, he had been reluctant to change his ways, solitary as his future seemed to be. Somewhere deep inside, he had always known Voldemort's first demise was only a temporary respite, and the uncertainty of when or where the tyrant would return prevented him from any attempt at normalcy in his life. There had been a witch in Hogsmeade he had visited when his needs became persistent beyond that which he could satisfy himself. He refused to think of her as a whore, for no payment had ever passed between the two of them. She was the niece of the apothecarist in the town, often behind the counter when he paid a visit for more ingredients and supplies.

She hadn't been particularly attractive, but nor was he, and she had been intelligent enough. He wondered that he didn't know her from Hogwarts – she was only a few years younger than he - until he discovered she had been sent away to school in Europe. After a visit on a particularly freezing January day, he found himself conversing with her over a drink at the Three Broomsticks. Hours later found them upstairs in bed.

It was good while it lasted. She was lonely; her uncle was a grim, unspeaking old man, and she knew very few people her own age after being away for so long. He saw her twice, perhaps three times a year; there were no expectations, and there was certainly no love. He wondered from time to time whether she offered what he crudely referred to as after-hours service to other apothecary customers? It wouldn't have mattered to him if she did, curious as he was; he had no claim on her, and no desire to hold such a thing.

Three years ago, though, with the threat of Voldemort's return imminent, he had gone to her one last time and told her he would not return. It would be foolish to risk her life for the sake of his pleasure, though he gave no reason to her, and she didn't ask for one.

She had simply laughed. At his astonished expression, she had kissed him on the cheek and said there were plenty more where he came from, and that she was beginning to wonder if he would ever discover there was more to living than his lonely existence.

And now, three years later, he had.

Rolling onto his side to face the sleeping witch, he moved his hand up under the covers to stroke the smoothness of her stomach. He felt an involuntary shiver run through her as his fingers brushed her skin, and he glanced up at her face to see if she was stirring. Her eyelids fluttered, but then she let out a soft sigh and slipped back into sleep again.

He let his fingers travel as far up as the soft underside of her breasts and then withdrew, contenting himself with watching her until she awoke and marvelling over exactly how they had come so far in so short a time.


Hermione opened her eyes to find herself looking into Severus' dark orbs; he didn't react to her, and she realised he was miles away, so lost in his own thoughts he hadn't yet noticed she was awake.

When she moved, though, reaching out to lightly touch his arm, he seemed to snap out of his trance, locking eyes with her as the corner of his mouth curled up in the beginning of a smile.

"Good morning," she whispered, her throat slightly dry and her voice still clouded with sleep.

"Yes, it is," he murmured, and she flushed slightly and ducked her head at the suggestive undertone of his words.

He chuckled softly, and she looked up again as he brushed her hair back from her face, his fingers snagging in a tangle just behind her ears. His face took on a look of concentration as he worked out the offending knot, and then he let his hand travel down to her shoulders and along her arm, rubbing softly back and forth.

Hermione met his eyes again, slightly confused with the thoughtful look he was giving her.

"What is it?"

He let out a sigh and shook his head, a limp strand of hair falling across his face.

"Nothing, really," he said, withdrawing his hand from her arm to push the offending hair back. "Just wondering how I came to be so fortunate in ensnaring you."

She smiled, but then couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. Remembering some of the first words she had ever heard him speak, she joked, "Well, as long as you didn't bewitch me."

He looked vaguely wounded at the insinuation, which only made her laugh even more.

"I'll never forget that speech you made in my first Potions class," she explained. "I was so eager to show you how much I'd already learnt, and first you ignored me, and then you just told me to sit down like I was some silly little girl."

"Hmmm," he murmured with a frown. "Yes, I was particularly poisonous that year, if I recall."

"That year?" she snorted. "How about every year? You didn't have to be quite so nasty all the time."

He looked disconcerted, and she realised belatedly that he would probably take her words to heart. He had been playing something of a part even back then - though she didn't doubt his dislike of Harry was real from the start – and she knew he regretted some of the crueller things he had said and done for the purposes of distancing himself from everyone.

"Sorry-" she started to say, but he brushed off her apology.

After a moment of silence, he said, "You are silly sometimes, you know."

"Yes, but I'm no longer a little girl," she returned.

She just managed to stifle a cry of surprise as he pulled her tightly against his body and rolled until she was underneath him, propping himself up with his hands braced either side of her shoulders to avoid crushing her.

"That much I'm certain of," Severus murmured, and he lowered himself over her to claim her lips in a deep kiss.

She clasped her hands around his back and couldn't stop the small whimper of pleasure that escaped her throat. At that moment, Hermione couldn't imagine anything more delightful than the feel of her skin against his, uninterrupted from shoulders to feet… except perhaps for the demanding pressure of his lips on hers… or the feel of him half-hard against her thigh.

Together, they created an intoxicating mixture of sensation that sent shivers tingling down her spine.

When he drew back and moved to lie beside her again, she rolled with him, curling against his side and sighing contentedly. A comfortable silence filled the room, and Hermione could feel, rather than hear, the faint, steady thudding of his heart.

"Can we stay here forever?" she murmured sleepily.

There was a moment of silence, and then she felt the exhalation of his breath across the top of her head as he looked down and said quietly, "If only we could."

"I suppose someone would notice," she said eventually, still reluctant to move.

"I suspect Albus might start to wonder why the Floo is still warded against him if we stayed here all day."

She giggled. "What did you really tell him you were doing last night?"

"Brewing." She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"And he believed you?"

"Of course not," he said derisively. "The old fool smiled and wished me an enjoyable night, and I resisted the urge to strangle him."

Mortified, Hermione sat up.

"He knows?"

"Albus is many things, Hermione," he said, "but daft is not one of them. Of course he knows."

She felt her face flush bright red with embarrassment.

"I'm never going to be able to look him in the eye again," she complained.

"You've stayed the night before and he hasn't said anything," Severus reminded her. "Why would he now?"

"He didn't know about all those other nights! And besides, last night was… different…"

"I daresay he's always known when you've stayed the night, Hermione," he reasoned. "If I didn't have more respect for the cunning old man, I'd say he's found a way to watch everything that goes on in this castle."

"Oh, I did not need to hear that, Severus," she said, the thought of anybody else seeing what had taken place last night causing her face to suffuse with heat instantly.

"I'm only joking, Hermione," he laughed. "Besides, if he is watching, you're giving him quite the show at the moment."

Looking down, she realised her upper half was completely exposed, showing Severus – and hopefully only Severus - everything; he seemed to be enjoying it, too, if the look on his face was any indication.

"Thanks for telling me," she muttered sarcastically, turning away and burrowing down under the covers again.

"I was enjoying the view."

She let out an indignant squawk, and he laughed aloud and pressed a kiss to the still-exposed skin between her shoulder blades. Then, she felt the bed move as he climbed out, and his soft footfalls padding across the room.

Peeking over the top of the duvet, she inhaled sharply, faced with the sight of him standing near the window, back turned, but still without a stitch of clothing. He was retrieving his clothes from where he had thrown them on the chair the previous night, and she took the opportunity to covertly inspect his thin back, well-formed buttocks and long, graceful legs.

When he turned, she quickly ducked her head back under the covers again, peeking again only when she thought he had already disappeared into the bathroom.

Instead, she found him standing in the doorway smirking at her, the shirt and pants draped over one arm concealing absolutely nothing.

"Enjoying the view?"

Realising her mouth was open and her eyes had somehow unintentionally dropped from his face to his groin, she cast him a dirty look and tossed a pillow across the room at him with a loud huff.

She heard his deep chuckle echo in the tiled room as he stepped backwards to avoid the soft missile. He shut the door over, not quite closing it, and then Hermione heard the sound of water hitting the marble floor of the shower.


It was almost lunchtime when Hermione finally appeared back in the Gryffindor common room, entering nonchalantly from her own room as though she had merely slept in.

She spotted Harry and Ron playing chess in the far corner, and made her way over to them, stifling a yawn as she sat down.

"Ah, look who's finally emerged," Ron said as his knight smashed one of Harry's pawns off the board.

"Feeling better, Hermione?" Harry asked, frowning at the board as he tried to decide his next move.

"What? Oh, yeah, much better," she said, only just recalling her feigned illness from the previous day in time.

"Where were you, anyway?" Ron went on. "We came to check on you after dinner but you weren't answering your door."

She hesitated. "I was, uh, brewing," she said carefully. It wasn't entirely untruthful. She had made the Calming Draught the previous afternoon, and she had been intending to take it up to Madam Pomfrey this morning… that was until she had decided to follow Severus into the bathroom, effectively setting back both their schedules for the day by a good hour or so.

It was his fault, she reasoned, for leaving the door open.

"Right," said Harry, looking at her sceptically. "All night?"

"No, of course not," she said, rolling her eyes. "I was sleeping."

"With him?" Ron asked, nudging Harry and laughing at his apparent joke.

Hermione tried to appear unfazed, she really did, but she couldn't help the blush that spread up her face until her cheeks were flaming hot.

She looked around the room self-consciously, thankful there were only a handful of other students across near the fireplace, and then back at her two best friends.

Ron's eyes widened and his jaw went slack. Harry was a bit slower, looking back and forth between his friends until he finally caught on.

"You didn't…" he finally managed.

Hermione closed her eyes, waiting for the explosion. Instead, she felt one of them grab her hand, and she opened her eyes just as Harry pulled her up from her chair.

"Harry, what-"

Taking a firmer hold on her arm, Harry pulled her across the common room to her doorway and looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to unward and open the door. Ron was close behind them, so she sighed, drew her wand and did so, preceding her friends into the room.

When it was closed firmly behind the three of them, she turned to the dark-haired young man.

"What was that about?"

Harry sat down on the end of her bed. "Well, you didn't want me saying any more out there, did you?"

"What else is there to say?"

"Well, did you?" asked Ron, still leaning against the back of the door. He was watching her with a mixture of curiosity and slight disgust.

"Did I what?" she sighed, moving over to the bed, brushing some stray cat hairs from the duvet and leaning back on the headboard as she regarded her two friends. "If you can't even articulate it, I'm hardly going to tell you anything, am I?"

Ron looked uncomfortable. "We didn't want to be blunt, but… all right, did you… you…" He looked helplessly at Harry, who looked just as awkward, and Hermione threw her hands in the air, exasperated.

"You two are impossible, honestly," she sighed. "Did I sleep in Severus' bed last night? Yes. Was he there? Obviously. Have I done that countless times over the past weeks? Yes."

"That's not what we were trying to ask, Hermione," Harry began.

"I know that," she countered. "What you were asking is really none of your business, but since you're my best friends and we're not in the habit of keeping things from each other…" She took a deep breath. "…the answer is yes."

She winced at the silence that followed. Severus would be incensed when he found out she had told her friends what had happened.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, crossing the room to join the others on the bed. "I know you've been spending a lot of time with him, but…"

"But what?" She folded her arms and waited.

Ron looked at Harry, who shrugged, and then back at Hermione, struggling to find words to express the look of distaste on his face.

"It's still Snape," he finally said. "Whatever you call him, that doesn't change the fact that it's still Snape… you know, the greasy g-"

"Don't," Hermione cut him off sharply.

"Okay, so he's not a git," Ron amended, "but he's still greasy."

"Yes, his hair is greasy. So what. Mine is bushy; does that bother you?" she asked, her voice becoming shrill with annoyance.

"No, of course not!" Ron said quickly. "But that's different… you can't help it. I mean, does he even wash his?"

Hermione heard a soft snort from Harry, but that didn't distract her from turning all her ire on her other friend.

"Yes, Ron," she snapped. "He does wash it. Every day, in fact… except for this morning, when I washed it for him. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

Harry's snort was louder this time, and Ron paled before turning bright red, his look of disgust turning to one of complete mortification.

"I didn't… I didn't mean to…" He stumbled over his words. "I didn't need to know that, Hermione. I knew you liked him, but…"

"That's what you don't understand. I don't like him, Ron," Hermione said. "I like Arithmancy and roast potatoes and cats. I love Severus. Do you see the difference?"

"Between Snape and a plate of nice crispy roast potatoes?" Harry commented. "Yeah, I think I can spot a few differences."

Despite the odd expression still on his face, Ron gave a bark of laughter, and even Hermione couldn't help but smile at the ridiculous comparison. The tension broken, she suddenly realised she wasn't going to have to defend her sanity to her two best friends yet again. Ron still looked distinctly queasy, but as she watched him he seemed to nod and set his jaw, making an effort to conceal his distaste and come to terms with, if not accept, her relationship with the former Potions master.

"And what of us?" Harry asked suddenly. "How do you feel about us?"

"I love you both, too," she assured them. "It's just… it's a different kind of love. You're both like my brothers, though… my wizarding family, if you like."

"Brother, huh?" Ron said, a grin crossing his face. "Does that mean we can hex Snape if he hurts you?"

"Yeah, I think I'd like that," Harry muttered.

Hermione sighed, then. She was pleased – more than pleased, really – that her friends seemed to accept what had happened, but she knew it was too much to hope that Severus and Harry would ever reconcile their differences. Too much animosity existed between them, but she hoped, in time, they might at least work at being civil to one another, if only for her sake; if she had her way, both of them would be part of her life for many years to come.

Seeing her resigned look, Harry said, "We don't have to like him, Hermione. You know I never will, don't you?"

She nodded regretfully.

Harry appeared deep in thought for a moment, and then said, "It's strange thinking about it… but that night I loaned him my Invisibility Cloak, it seemed like I was talking to a different person."

She looked at him curiously.

He sighed. "I don't know… it was just weird. I didn't want to talk to him, but you'd asked me to apologise for you, so I headed down there. On the way, I had this mad idea to offer him the cloak; I thought he hadn't been to the Hospital Wing to see you already because he didn't want to be seen to care, and I was trying to prove it. I thought if he refused the cloak, he really didn't care at all. But then I told him what had really happened, because of course Dumbledore hadn't-" Harry voice grew slightly bitter at those words "-and even though he tried to hide it, I could see he was really worried about you."

"And it's obvious you're happy when you're around him," Ron said. "Merlin knows we all need any happiness we can get these days, and if yours comes from being with him, well, who are we to deny you that?"

Harry nodded in agreement, but Hermione couldn't help but notice he looked rather wistful, too. She smiled at both of her friends gratefully, but couldn't help the guilty feeling which rose in her. Ron was right; they all needed something to distract them from grim reality once in a while, but she feared nothing could do that for Harry now. The end was drawing far too near for him to focus on anything else.

Now she thought about it, this morning was the first time she had seen him smile or laugh in weeks.

"I just wish we could find something for you to be happy about," she murmured, raising her eyes to meet her friend's green ones.

Harry's face darkened.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I don't think that's possible right now. I'll be happy when Voldemort is dead."

She exchanged a frightened look with Ron, disturbed by the steely resolve that had again found its way into Harry's tone.

"It won't be long now, Harry," she said softly, "but please don't rush into a confrontation until you're certain you're prepared."

"Rush into it?" Harry scowled. "I've been waiting my whole life to be rid of him – almost eighteen years! The sooner we're rid of him, the sooner the whole wizarding world can get on with their lives. I'm sick of this waiting!"

He launched himself off the bed to pace across the room.

"The longer we wait," he said in a low voice, "the more people will die. How many people do you think are going to die this coming week in whatever he has planned?"

Ron murmured a sound of agreement, and Hermione looked at him in confusion.

"Haven't you heard?" he asked incredulously.

"Heard what?" she asked.

Harry turned to her, looking surprised, too.

"I thought Snape would've told you," he said. "Malfoy's going home again on Wednesday night."

"His mother's birthday, apparently," Ron snorted.

Hermione gaped at her two friends, stunned and slightly hurt that Snape hadn't told her.

"When did you hear about this?"

"Two days ago," Harry said tightly. "Dumbledore is sure something is going to happen, but he has no idea what or where it might be."

Hermione swallowed, disturbed by the thought of Draco going before Voldemort again so soon as much as what he might have planned for that night.

Severus had been working tirelessly with the Head Boy to prepare him as well as he could, but would it be enough? If Voldemort found a way into Draco's mind, the young Slytherin would be dead, Snape's cover blown, and the consequences for the rest of them would be dire.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and hope," she said cautiously.

Ron nodded in agreement, and Harry said, "Yes, but not for long, I hope."

There was silence for a moment as the three of them each contemplated what might happen come Wednesday. Trying to distract herself from the sudden dark turn of the conversation, Hermione thought back to earlier in the morning, when she had first appeared, and realised something.

"By the way, how did you know I didn't just go to bed early yesterday?"

Ron and Harry exchanged guilty looks, and she raised her eyebrows.

"Uh, well," Harry said hesitantly. "You weren't on the Map."

"Pardon?"

"We hadn't seen you since lunchtime yesterday," Ron put on, "and you said you weren't feeling well, so we were worried! When you didn't answer your door last night, we checked the Map to see if you were in there."

Hermione felt her face flushing again. She wondered what time they had checked the Map, and if they had searched beyond her room to discover her whereabouts.

"I cannot believe you did that!" she finally muttered.

"No harm done, 'Mione," Ron said quickly. "We just wanted to make sure you were okay. Why did you go to Snape if you didn't feel well?"

She sighed, buying a moment to collect her thoughts. She felt guilty about lying to her friends, especially after saying only minutes before she didn't keep things from them, but she wasn't about to tell them she skived off afternoon class because she was nervous about the approaching evening. They would never let her forget that.

"I went to Severus for a Stomach-Calming Draught – I made some two days ago for Madam Pomfrey, but hadn't taken it up to the Hospital Wing yet. He insisted I stay until I felt better, but I suppose you already knew that even before you asked me where I was," she finished sarcastically. "I hope you enjoyed the show."

Harry and Ron both went pale, stared at each other and then back at Hermione.

"Oh, as if we would-"

"We didn't see anything!"

She raised her eyebrows again in askance, and Harry sighed, pulling the infamous Marauder's Map from his trouser pocket.

"We weren't watching you on the Map, Hermione," he said, unfolding the parchment and activating it with a quick tap of his wand and the usual words. "We were worried because we couldn't find you."

"Couldn't…?" she trailed off in confusion as he spread the Map out on the bed between the three of them.

Ron pointed to a section, and Hermione followed his finger. She could see the curve of the first floor corridor which led to the Charms classroom, and the tiny circle marking the statue of Ignatia Wildsmith. The door and hidden passage to Snape's quarters were even marked on the Map, but beyond that, the lines and markings faded into a blurry grey cloud on the parchment, broken only by the words, 'Mind your own business!' floating in the middle of what would have been Snape's sitting room.

Hermione stared at it in disbelief, then looked at Harry and Ron.

"What…?"

"Trust a bloody Slytherin," Ron muttered. "We couldn't have found you in there even if we wanted to."

Hermione laughed, and the indignant look on Ron's face only made her laugh even harder, until tears were pouring down her face. When she finally managed to compose herself, she felt a little shaky; she couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard, and even though it was a mixture of genuine amusement and slight, panicked hysteria, it felt good to let it out.

"I don't think it was Severus' doing," she finally managed, and proceeded to explain how the quarters had always belonged to the Head of Slytherin, right back to the founding of the school.

"Salazar Slytherin was rumoured to be rather paranoid," she added at their dubious expressions. "I should think he would have placed all sorts of anti-spying enchantments on his chambers; without the Map, though, I doubt anyone these days has realised they're still there."

Harry still looked less-than-convinced, but Ron was staring at her thoughtfully.

"I'll have to tell Severus, though," she said. "He'll get a laugh out of that."

"I'd say he'll be more relieved than amused," Ron said. "That Map could have given away the fact that he's alive if it had fallen into the wrong hands. Maybe the enchantment is Dumbledore's doing; he knows about the Map, after all."

"Good point," Harry added. "It's lucky I don't let the Map out of my sight these days."

Hermione nodded absently, disturbed that she hadn't thought of the Map as a threat to Severus' cover before. Even with the enchantment on his rooms, if anyone managed to see it while he was in the Headmaster's office, they would be in quite a predicament indeed.

She made a mental note to mention it to Severus or Dumbledore. She didn't want the Headmaster to confiscate the Map – surely he would trust Harry to keep track of it at all times – but Pettigrew, although now dead, had known about the Map. What if he had told Voldemort, who then found a way to replicate the magic and pass it on to someone in the castle? Malfoy was the obvious choice, of course, and then they wouldn't have to worry, but there was always the possibility of someone else they didn't know about working against them.


The rest of the weekend passed quickly; Slytherin flattened Ravenclaw in the Quidditch match on Saturday afternoon, and Hermione had to stop herself cheering when Malfoy made a spectacular dive for the Snitch, swerving just in time to avoid colliding with the goal posts. The win also meant Slytherin would play Gryffindor in the final, to be held in the second week of June.

Ron talked non-stop all the way back to the common room, surmising the best strategies to beat the other team, and even Harry joined in. Hermione listened half-heartedly, her mind on what she would do later that night.

She was surprisingly reluctant to go back to Severus' rooms, though she told herself, now the Quidditch match was over, Malfoy would be spending much time there anyway in the lead-up to his visit home on Wednesday night.

Hermione was slightly annoyed Severus hadn't told her about that, and she was also unsure of what would happen when she next shared his bed. Did he expect what they had done the previous night to happen every time, now? Did she expect that? Could she lie beside him and not think about that?

Along with her uncertainty, as the night progressed she found Harry and Ron covertly glancing at her when they thought she wasn't looking. It was almost as though they were waiting for her to stand up and announce she was going to bed. She wouldn't put it past Harry to check the Map when she did retire for the night, to see whether she remained in her own room.

She was starting to think that Dumbledore confiscating the Map mightn't be such a bad thing.

It wasn't like she had anything to prove to them… perhaps she was trying to prove to herself that nothing had changed, that she could still spend a night talking in the common room with her friends until well past curfew, and then curl up in her own bed, alone.

Whoever she was trying to convince, she finally did retreat to her own room just after midnight, and didn't realise how tired she was until she fell asleep soon after that, only waking again with the morning sunlight streaming in through her window.


She had been spending Sunday afternoons in Severus' lab for months, so Harry and Ron didn't blink when she parted ways with them after lunch. They went upstairs to retrieve their brooms for some Quidditch practice, and Hermione made her way down the first floor corridor.

Malfoy was there when she entered the sitting room, and both men stopped their conversation and turned to her as she closed the door.

"Sorry," she said. "Don't let me interrupt. Is it all right if I work in the lab?"

"Of course," Severus said, maintaining a rather indifferent expression on his face, which led Hermione to believe he hadn't yet discussed anything about her with the Slytherin.

She crossed to the lab, its door ajar, and slipped through, leaving it partially open as it had been.

As she unwarded the ingredients cabinet, though, and stood perusing the contents, someone closed the door completely, blocking out all sound from the other room.

Hermione frowned, her annoyance at him keeping Draco's Wednesday night excursion from her increasing slightly.

She had calmed down somewhat by the time Severus entered the lab almost two hours later, but she still didn't speak as he came over, glanced in her cauldron, and then picked up a spare knife to cut up the final ingredient while she stirred the potion the required number of times. Hermione could feel his eyes on her, and finally she broke the silence.

"Have a nice chat?" she asked coolly, and he stopped, knife in hand, to regard her with a surprised expression.

"Is something wrong?" he finally said.

"Is there some reason you felt compelled not to tell me about Wednesday night?" she countered, still not looking at him.

He looked startled, then realisation crossed his face and he murmured, "Potter."

"Yes, of course Harry told me," she snapped. "We're friends; we don't keep things from one another very often."

Pushing the board of chopped ingredients towards her, he pulled out a nearby stool and sat down with a sigh.

"I didn't want to worry you," he said simply, returning her accusing gaze with an even look.

"You don't have to protect me, Severus."

"I wasn't trying to," he said. "I meant to tell you on Thursday night; I had only just learnt of it myself, and I'm afraid to say it was part of the reason I so unjustly snapped at you. When I finally did have a chance to tell you, you were already upset, and I was reluctant to add another burden to your shoulders."

She looked away guiltily; she should have known he would have had her best interests at heart. Still, it hurt to have had to find out from Harry and Ron; now she knew how Ron must have felt being left in the dark earlier in the year.

"You could have told me yesterday morning," she offered.

"Yes, I could have," he conceded. "However, if case you'd forgotten, I had other things on my mind."

She smiled, then.

"Sorry, I just got a bit defensive, and then when you shut the door…"

"The reason I shut the door," he said, "is because your arrival reminded me I had promised you I would discuss our relationship with Draco. I didn't think it prudent to do so within your hearing, in case his reaction was less than favourable."

"And was it?" she asked, suddenly feeling worried.

Snape eyed her thoughtfully for a moment, and an odd look flitted across his face.

"It was quite surprising, actually," he mused.

When he didn't elaborate immediately, she prompted him, "Well?"

"His exact words were, 'I'm not stupid, Severus. Good for you.'"

Hermione gaped at him, and he nodded.

"Wow," she commented. "I thought he would have been angry to realise you're spending time with me when all your time could be spent tutoring him."

"No, he just shrugged and said something about everyone needing time for themselves."

Hermione considered that while she bottled her potion, and then her thoughts turned back to her earlier musing… what he expected of her now.

Coming back over to the bench after putting the potion flasks in the cupboard, she began hesitantly, "Severus, is it… is it still all right for me to stay with you some nights, even if we… we don't…"

She looked up, hoping he had gleaned the meaning of her stuttering without needing further explanation. For all she had snapped at Ron earlier for not speaking plainly, she found she still had trouble articulating some things around Severus… some certain things.

He huffed out a short laugh and slid off the stool, coming around behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle.

"As much as I would like every night to be as thoroughly delightful as Friday," he murmured close to her ear, "I fear we are already both stretched far too thin to maintain such a… demanding schedule."

She laughed sheepishly, feeling silly for even asking. "I know, I'm sorry... I didn't mean for this to be awkward now," she admitted. "I just wasn't sure what... well, what you'd expect, I suppose."

"I expect nothing, Hermione," he said seriously, turning her around to face him. "I want only what you wish to give me."

She wanted to tell him he could have anything and everything he wanted, but didn't he know that already? Did she really have to confirm it in words? Instead, she settled for leaning into him and encircling his back tightly with her arms.

"Having said that," he continued after some time, "my bed was lamentably cold and empty last night."

She smiled into his shirt at that confession.

"So was mine, actually, although Crookshanks was glad to have me there."

"I don't doubt it," he said, frowning in mock consternation. "It seems I shall be forced to share you with that wretched ginger fluffball."

Hermione laughed.

"I could always bring him with me."

"Absolutely not," Severus said, drawing back to glare down at her. "There's certainly not room enough in my bed for three, and in any case, I do not intend to share you."

As if to prove his point, he leant down and kissed her, a bruising, hard kiss for the sole purpose of claiming her as his own. When she was finally able to catch her breath a few minutes later, she found she had no wish to be shared at all.


After dinner that night, Hermione found herself back in the lab with Severus, laying out the ingredients for the modified Wolfsbane potion. He was attempting another variation on the one which had failed two nights ago, in the hope Lupin could find a test subject for it amongst his counterparts. Many of the werewolves the Defence teacher had managed to contact were without the benefit of even the original Wolfsbane, so a brew that may or may not work was a chance worth taking for a month of respite.

Severus was still reluctant to have her assist him in case something went wrong, but he caved in when she reasoned the failed brew hadn't been volatile in the least, and if charming the potion alone exhausted him as much as it had every other time, he would be of no use to Draco leading up to the boy's mid-week excursion.

In the end, he had conceded her hand was steady enough to take over the stirring while he added ingredients and cast the required charms. It wouldn't save him much of his exhaustion; the spells were the most tiring part of the potion, but at least he might be able to rest and relax for a few minutes in between the castings.

Four hours later, and with hours of brewing still to go, Hermione was wondering how Severus had ever managed to complete the potion on his own. Her feet were aching and her eyes becoming scratchy from a combination of tiredness and the rancid steam wafting from the brew. She clenched her jaw together to keep from yawning as Severus raised his wand for yet another round of charms. Sweat was already pouring down his face, but his wand was steady and his voice strong.

Two hours after that, the only thing that was keeping Hermione on her feet was the remembrance of Severus' complete and utter exhaustion the first time he had made the potion. If, through her meagre assistance, she could save him even a fraction of the toll it had taken on him, it was worth her own tiredness.

Even with her help, he still staggered slightly after casting the final charm and setting his wand aside. It took all her self-control not to drop the stirring rod and reach out to steady him, but all his effort would be for naught if she faltered now. Clenching the rod a little harder in her fist, she counted her stirs and watched for the colour-change she knew was imminent.

She rebuffed his attempt to take over the final minutes of stirring, and he nodded and turned away, barely managing the scant few steps to his desk before sinking heavily into the rickety chair.

As the potion abruptly changed from deep glowing yellow to the familiar murky green, she withdrew the stirring rod and used her wand to set the flame beneath the cauldron to a low simmer. It would have to stay like that until mid-morning, at which point it could be cooled and bottled.

She cleaned up the workbench and then turned to Severus, who was still sitting listlessly at the desk.

"Severus?"

He murmured a soft sound of acknowledgement and stood up, his gaze falling on her, somewhat unfocussed.

"Come on," she said quietly, taking his arm to steady him and lead him out of the lab. "Let's get you to bed. You'll be useless tomorrow if you don't sleep for a while."

He nodded, but pulled away from her for a moment to peer into the cauldron and check the height of the flame beneath it.

"It's fine," she assured him, taking his arm again.

This time, he allowed himself to be led, and as they shuffled through the sitting room, him leaning heavily against her, she commented, "How you ever made it to the bedroom on your own after last time, I'll never know."

"A near-overdose of Invigoration Draught roused me enough to clean the lab and get to bed," he said. "I'd prefer not to resort to that again, though."

"Luckily, you don't have to," she said, using her free hand to push the bedroom door open. He was sagging against her by the time they made it to the edge of the bed, where he sank down gratefully with a heavy sigh. When he moved to lie down, though, she halted him with a soft sound.

"You're not going to sleep in your clothes," she scolded.

"Believe me, Hermione," he said, "if I thought I had the energy to remove them, I would."

"I'll do it, then," she said.

He huffed out a noise which might have held amusement or annoyance – she couldn't tell – but didn't move again, so she stepped forwards and knelt down beside the bed to remove his boots.

She tugged gently on one ankle for him to extend his foot. He started slightly at the touch and then, realising what she meant to do, allowed her to wrestle with the tight-fitting boots and then pull his socks off as well.

"Why do you wear these heavy things when you don't go anywhere?" she muttered, stuffing the socks in the boots and setting them both aside.

"Protection," he said. When she looked up, surprised, he added, "They're dragon-hide; the best protection one can have against volatile potions spillages."

Hermione unbuttoned his shirt next, and he let out a tired laugh as she instinctively reached for the bottom button first. He was barely able to summon the energy to shrug out of the shirt himself, and she hesitated in drawing him to his feet again to remove his trousers. She managed to unbutton them while he still sat on the edge of the bed, only coaxing him to his feet long enough to allow them to drop to the floor.

She cast a cleansing charm over his sweat-soaked skin and drew the duvet aside before allowing him to sink onto the bed again.

A few minutes later, after stripping down to her own underwear, too, dousing the torches and setting her wand aside, she climbed in beside him.

"Thank you for your help tonight," he murmured, exhaustion already taking hold and slurring his speech.

"You're welcome," she replied softly, turning on her side to face him. He didn't speak again, and she watched him in the near-darkness as his eyes drifted closed and his breathing became deep and even.

Yawning, she shifted closer to him, marvelling at how different the atmosphere had been tonight as opposed to the previous one. Strangely enough, being with him tonight had been just as enjoyable, albeit in a different way.


Before Hermione knew it, Wednesday afternoon was upon them, and she found herself using Severus' lab to practice some of the more complicated potions that were likely to appear in her NEWT practical.

Severus was understandably unsettled waiting for Malfoy to appear after the last class of the day. He was at his desk when Hermione arrived, but without a quill or parchment in sight, she knew he wasn't working. Half an hour or so into her brewing, he came into the lab and set about reorganising the ingredients cupboard. Having done so, he then moved everything back the way it had been when he started, before going back out into the sitting room where she could hear him pacing in front of the window.

He was still pacing when Hermione completed the simple potion half an hour later, and she joined him in the sitting room, leaning against the edge of his desk as he wore a path behind it.

After some minutes of silence, uncertain of what else to do, Hermione stepped in his path as he crossed in front of her again. He stopped, looking down at her, the dullness of his eyes conveying his worry over what was to happen that night.

Without saying anything, she simply stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around his waist. Words would offer no comfort, she knew, but perhaps just being there might help, even if it only distracted him for a few minutes.

He returned her embrace, and she was still in his arms when the fireplace flared green. She stepped back quickly before Malfoy appeared, though, travelling cloak over the top of his school shirt and trousers. He looked exceptionally pale.

He glanced at Hermione for a moment, and she sighed inwardly.

"Do you want me to g-" she started to say.

"No."

Both men spoke at once, and she looked from one to the other, surprised.

"Perhaps we should all sit down," Severus suggested, looking at Malfoy approvingly.

"Are you sure the Dark Lord will be planning something for tonight?" Malfoy asked as he sank into the armchair nearest the fire.

Severus sighed and sat down in the other chair. Hermione perched on one corner of the couch, regarding the two men before her, who both looked weary beyond their respective years.

"It is not my intention to frighten you, Draco," Snape said seriously, "but we have spoken of the significance of the date. If nothing happens, well and good, but it is best to be as prepared as you can."

"You have no idea what's going on, then?" Hermione asked, and the Slytherin turned his gaze on her.

He was shaking his head even before she finished speaking. "I haven't spoken directly to my father; the Headmaster received the request for my leave and informed me of it only after he had accepted on my behalf. If anything is planned, I have no knowledge of it."

"It would have been foolish of Lucius to divulge any information before you left the school," Severus stated. "Foolish for him, but useful for us if he'd have slipped. He would be wary of Albus' suspicion, though, and concerned he may try to extract any information from you before allowing you to leave."

"Once I'm there," Malfoy said, seeming only to have heard half of Severus' speech, "if something is planned, I'm not going to be able to get word to anyone."

"No," the older man agreed. "You must appear fully supportive of whatever takes place tonight, regardless of your true intentions. You must hide your reluctance if you are to remain in the good graces of both your father and the Dark Lord."

"I'll try my best," the younger man said, exhaling a shaky breath and looking anything but confident. He rubbed his arm absently, a gesture which reminded Hermione of Severus after his Mark had been removed.

"That will suffice," Severus said, nodding approvingly. "I have every confidence you can do this, Draco. We would not send you out there if we believed you to be unprepared."

Malfoy nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but then tightened his grasp on his arm, a grimace forming on his pale features.

"That's the sign," he said, standing up and looking towards his former Head of House. "Dumbledore said he'd escort me to the gate so I can Apparate."

"Professor Dumbledore, Draco," Severus corrected reproachfully, following the younger Slytherin to the fireplace. They stood facing one another, and Hermione watched the scene from her armchair, feeling more like an intruder than an observer.

Severus cleared his throat and placed both hands on Malfoy's shoulders, waiting until the Head Boy looked up at him.

"Remember your training," he cautioned. "If you are taken before him, keep your shields up and avoid his eyes if you can. Do what is requested of you without hesitation; no more and no less. Most importantly, remember that whatever happens – whatever happens – it is not in your power to stop it. It would be happening whether you were there or not. At best, seeing it now will prepare you for the future."

Malfoy nodded, and the older man dropped his hands from the boy's shoulders. Taking a handful of Floo powder from the jar proffered by his former Head of House, Malfoy glanced back at Hermione for a moment.

She opened her mouth to wish him good luck, inadequate though the wish was, but the words caught in her throat and she was able to do nothing more than offer what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

He nodded once more to Severus and then stepped into the flames, calling out for the Headmaster's office.

"Be safe." She finally found her voice, but the flare of green had already vanished, and she doubted whether he heard her.

Severus stood staring at the fireplace for a good many minutes, and Hermione couldn't help but be reminded of the time she'd seen another spy sent back to his former master. In her fourth year, after the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Dumbledore had looked just as despairing when he had sent Severus back into Voldemort's ranks. She hoped, for all their sakes, that her classmate would be able to do what was asked of him without faltering. Severus had been distraught enough knowing that he had been unable to prevent Malfoy taking from the Mark; if the younger Slytherin was killed, she suspected it might very nearly break him.

She came back from her thoughts as Severus turned and walked to the window, gazing at something in the grounds below.

She stood up and went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind and resting her head on his back, between his shoulder blades. He didn't say anything, but clasped one hand over hers as he continued to gaze outside. She lifted her head, peeking around his shoulder to follow his line of sight. Far below, two figures were making their way along the path leading to the main gates and Hogsmeade. One was tall, his long white beard billowing out in the wind, and the other was a slighter figure, a dark hood drawn up to obscure his face.

"He'll be all right," Hermione whispered as the two disappeared behind a bank of trees lining the path.

"Will he?" Severus said, more of a statement than a question. "He's even more unlike his father than I had imagined. If things go badly tonight, he may not be able to conceal his horror at what he sees."

"It will be hard," she agreed, "but I think he can do it. You've taught him well, and he is determined to play his part."

He didn't answer, and Hermione dropped her hands, moving around to stand in front of him.

"He'll be all right," she repeated. "Besides, we don't know what is going to happen tonight; we might be worrying for nothing."

"No." he shook his head. "Something will happen, of that I am certain."

"Why?" she asked. "Why are you and Professor Dumbledore so certain?"

"Do you know what day it is?" He looked down at her, his dark eyes more tired and resigned than she had seen them in some time.

"The thirtieth of April?"

Severus nodded, but at her look of confusion, he explained, "Otherwise known as Beltane Eve - the cross-quarter day opposite to Samhain. It is the festival celebrating purity," he finished, his lip curling in a derisive sneer.

His concern for Malfoy made much more sense to her now. It would be just like Voldemort to twist the meaning of purity to suit his own ends, and use the annual celebration as just cause to stage an attack. Disturbing as the notion was, it was out of their hands, and it would do neither of them any good to dwell on it.

"Come on," she said, nudging his shoulder to turn him from the window. "What can we do to distract you?"

"Nothing," he said flatly. Brushing past her, he sat at his desk and picked up a quill, staring at the mess of parchments laid out before him. "I have work to do."

She stared at him for a moment, seeing the line of tension in his jaw. She tried once more, saying, "Anything I can help you with?"

He sighed and leant back in his seat; his face was set in a frown, but it softened slightly as he saw the concern on her face.

"No, but thank you," he finally said. "I think it would be best if you left me my own devices for the time being."

"How about later, then?" she persisted.

He smiled wanly, not quite able to manage the usual smirk at her determination to help him however she could.

"Later would be acceptable," he finally conceded, "after I have worked my way through some of these."

He waved his hand at the nearest parchment, half-filled with Arithmantic workings, and Hermione nodded. She placed her hand briefly on his shoulders, and a quick, soft kiss on his cheek, and then crossed to the fireplace to Floo back to her own rooms. Glancing over her shoulders as she stepped into the hearth, she saw him sitting back, quill poised to write. A blank, faraway expression on his face gave away his lack of concentration on the task in front of him, though, and Hermione suspected very little work would be accomplished before she returned.


The nights were lengthening towards summer, and it was still early when Hermione left Snape's quarters. Meeting Harry and Ron coming back from dinner, the trio took advantage of the twilight for a walk in the school grounds, out near the edge of the lake.

She told them of Malfoy's departure, and though they moved on to speak of other, more trivial things, there was an underlying tension in the air that Hermione couldn't explain.

Darkness had fallen almost completely, and they had just turned back onto the path towards the main castle doors when a burst of orange light suddenly flashed on the horizon across the other side of the lake, followed shortly afterwards by a deafening bang.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron exclaimed as Hermione blinked a few times. Orange spots still danced in front of her vision from the sudden, blinding light.

"It came from Hogsmeade," Harry said, shading his eyes as a shower of blindingly bright sparks flashed in the air where the flames had dissipated.

"Maybe something went wrong at Zonko's," Ron suggested. "Fred and George said Zonko's manufacturers are hopping mad they can't match the quality of their fireworks. Maybe they're experimenting."

"This late at night?" Hermione asked sceptically. As much as she hoped it was something as innocent as a fireworks mishap, something told her that was wishful thinking. Harry, too, looked unconvinced.

Not a moment later, another explosion rent the night air, close to but slightly west of the original one.

The other students down by the lake were gaping at the lights, curiosity and fear mingled on their faces.

"I think we should go back to the castle," Hermione said uneasily.

Before the other two could either protest or agree, Dumbledore's voice boomed out across the grounds, magically magnified to tenfold usual volume.

"All students to the Great Hall immediately!"


It was well past midnight when the last of the frightened younger students finally went to bed and Hermione was able to retreat to her own bedroom.

Everyone had been confined to the Great Hall until the Headmaster had been able to gain more information about what had happened, but it was still a mystery to most of the students.

Rumours had circulated throughout the Hall, each one more fantastical than the next, and blaming everything from Zonko's to Death Eaters for the fires still burning in the wizarding village a short distance away.

Hermione, Harry and Ron knew better than to think it was a coincidence – Draco's departure, his burning Mark and the significance of Beltane Eve in the twisted ideals of the Dark Lord. Though he had tried to conceal it, Hermione had seen Harry wincing a number of times throughout the night, and openly rubbing his scar once.

Dumbledore confirmed their suspicions after over an hour of tense waiting. Death Eaters had attacked Hogsmeade.

Fear was thick in the air, a horrified murmur rippling throughout the Great Hall, and although the Headmaster assured the students there was no threat to them, the other teachers all appeared tight-lipped and worried as they flitted amongst their students. Even the Slytherins looked nervous.

The younger students were simply confused and scared, and Professor McGonagall charged Hermione with seeing them all to their dormitories once they were permitted to leave the Great Hall. The older Gryffindors, Harry and Ron among them, remained in the common room, discussing what might have prompted the attack in low, uneasy voices.

She stayed there only for a few moments, before giving her two friends a meaningful look and Flooing through to Severus' quarters.

The sitting room was empty, the curtains closed, and she stepped quietly into the bedroom. If he was asleep – which she highly doubted, given what had happened - the Floo would have probably woken him anyway.

He wasn't though.

The duvet was unrumpled, and he was sitting in the armchair in front of the window, staring out across the grounds to Hogsmeade in the distance. The moon, just past full, was shining in the clear sky, the cold, bluish light setting his pale skin almost aglow.

Instead of the usual twinkling lights of the wizarding town in the distance, though, the night air was filled with red and orange, new fires blooming just as old ones died out. High above the ruined town, the grotesque, twisting shape of the Dark Mark cast a sickly green light over the landscape.

Wordlessly, she went to stand beside him, glancing from the scene outside to his face. He made no acknowledgement of her presence, and his face was blank and expressionless.

"Severus?" she said softly.

He blinked, but made no other movement, and she laid one hand lightly on his bare shoulder. His skin was icy to the touch, gooseflesh rising as she trailed her hand across the top of his back. Looking around, she spotted a blanket folded across the back of the other armchair, and she retrieved it, unfolding it as she moved behind him.

"You'll catch your death sitting here," she scolded quietly, draping the blanket around his shoulders.

"I'd not be the first tonight," he said, his voice strangely flat.

Hermione sighed softly, staring at the distant fires again. "I can't believe it…" She trailed off, not knowing how to even put into words the fear crawling deep within her as she surveyed the scene.

"I would have known about this, had I not been discovered," he said at length.

She looked down at him and noticed he was rubbing his forearm – something she'd not seen him do in months.

"You don't know that," she reasoned, laying her hand across his and pulling it away from his arm. She entwined her fingers in his, squeezing gently.

"They're all out there, Hermione," he said, his voice bleak. "That isn't a few of his most trusted servants carrying out his orders. It's a good portion of his whole army, and only a preview of the havoc he is capable of wreaking on the wizarding world."

She swallowed, trying to conceal the fear that rose, choking, in her throat when she thought of what was to come if this was only a preview.

"Why, though?" she asked. "Why Hogsmeade? He hates Muggles, so why attack the only all-magical village in the country? It doesn't make sense."

"He's angry," Snape said. "His young servants failed at the tasks he set, his snivelling servant is dead, and Potter is still alive. Things are not progressing to his liking, and this is his retribution. An entire village for his displeasure."

Hermione bit back a sob, trying not to think of all the witches and wizards in Hogsmeade she had made acquaintance with in the past five years, since her first visit to the town. Surely some of them would have managed to escape? Surely the Ministry and the Order were there to help them now?

Severus bowed his head, raising one hand to tiredly rub his eyes.

Feeling helpless in her inability to comfort him, she settled for resting one arm across his shoulders and standing close as they both surveyed the distant sight of the burning village. He leant towards her but didn't speak

Eventually, she straightened and said softly, "Come to bed, Severus. There's nothing we can do for now."

He stood up, letting the blanket fall from his shoulders, but then stopped, gazing out the window again.

"Draco is most likely out there, too," he said softly, despair ringing clear in his voice.

It had occurred to Hermione earlier that Draco could be out there, that he would be forced to prove his loyalty to Voldemort and his father by partaking in the events of the night.

"I'm sure he's safe," she said, trying to convince herself as much as Severus that it was the truth.

He shook his head.

"Safety is one thing… if he's out there, tonight… what he's seen… it's…" He shook his head, and Hermione saw him swallow thickly.

"Let's wait and see when he returns," she said quietly. "Come on. Even if we can't sleep, we can try to rest."

Eventually he nodded and walked listlessly across the room to climb into bed. When she lay down beside him after shedding her outer clothes and shoes, he reached for her straight away, pulling her tightly against his chest.

"What did Albus have to say to the students?" he asked after a while. "I can imagine they would have been rather confused."

She nodded, and told him in a quiet voice what Dumbledore had told them, and what she, Harry and Ron had surmised. Unspoken to her friends, she voiced one worrying question to him.

"If they can get to Hogsmeade, do you think they can come here?"

"No," he said firmly. It was the surest he had sounded all night, and she took some measure of comfort in that.

"There are many more walls than the visible ones which surround and protect this school, Hermione," he said. "It is safer than most places."

She closed her eyes and burrowed closer to him, wishing for the first time she could get up and close the curtains. On any other night, the soft glow of moonlight was preferable to complete darkness. Tonight, though, the room was lit with an eerie mixture of dull orange and green, overpowering the white light of the moon.

Lying as they were, Hermione suspected Severus was still gazing out the window over the top of her head. She didn't try to move, though, content just being with him on a night of such uncertainty and fear. Somehow, despite the myriad of thoughts running through her mind, the warmth of his embrace soothed her, and she eventually drifted off into a restless sleep.


Hermione awoke in the darkness to feel of Severus' hands on her shoulders, lightly shaking her.

"W'sit?" she mumbled sleepily, blinking as the torches in the room suddenly flared to life at his spoken word.

"Hermione," he said urgently. "You need to get up. Hurry."

The strange tone of his voice had her wide awake in a moment, and as she sat up he crossed the room and began quickly pulling on his clothes.

"What's happened?" she asked, climbing out of bed and moving to dress herself, too.

"I don't know," he said. "Albus is in the next room waiting for us."

She spun around sharply. "Here?"

Severus nodded grimly, running a hand through his sleep-dishevelled hair.

Hermione glanced at the clock as she pulled her shirt over her head; it was just after four in the morning. What on earth was so urgent for the Headmaster to be summoning them at this hour?

It suddenly dawned on her.

"Is it Malfoy?" she asked fearfully.

Severus shook his head, waiting at the door for her to join him.

"No. It's something else. Draco has yet to return."

Her worry increasing, she stuffed her feet quickly into her shoes and grabbed her wand from the pocket of her robes, and Severus ushered her out into the sitting room.

Dumbledore turned from where he was leaning against the mantle.

"Miss Granger," he greeted grimly. "Severus, I am sorry for my intrusion, but I would not be here were it not of the utmost importance."

"What is it, sir?" Hermione could hear something in the Headmaster's voice, an undertone which set her nerves on edge.

"I must ask you to come with me to my office, Miss Granger," he said heavily. "Severus, I would have you there, too, if you will. I am afraid I must inform you that Hogsmeade is not the only place the servants of Voldemort have struck tonight."


To be continued

Thank you, as always, to everyone who continues to read and review!

Eternal gratitude and a never-ending supply of chocolate to Potion Mistress, the most tolerant beta ever, for making this a much better story than it would have been without her input. Mistakes are all mine, and usually a result of my silly tinkering with the chapter after she's sent it back.

The Gaelic holiday of Beltane is celebrated around May 1st each year. Traditionally, Druids would create a need-fire on top of a hill on this day and rush the village's cattle through the fires to purify them and bring luck People would also go between the fires to purify themselves. It seemed fitting that Voldemort would observe this celebration in his own sick way.

Also, thank you to BastetAzazis and Ferporcel, who have decided to take it upon themselves to translate this story into Portuguese. You can find the first three chapters on this site and at OWL.

Lastly, those of you who read my LJ will know I've just landed my first full-time job, starting on Monday. I'm not sure how it will affect the frequency of updates – I'll try to keep them at least fortnightly - but it might take a while to settle in to the strange new routine of actually have to go to work on a regular basis. :P