Author's Note

Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

Thank you everyone that commented on my review question. I seriously thought I was losing my mind or that I'd really messed up a plot point somewhere along the way and hadn't noticed. I hope you all continue to enjoy the story!

I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.

Ch 20: Planning and Confessions

The feel of Snape's erection poking into her leg woke her the next morning. Smiling sleepily, Hermione ducked under the covers, easing down until she could run her tongue along his length and suck the head into her mouth.

"Hermione," Snape groaned throatily, shifting as her actions woke him.

Snape tossed back the covers to stare down at her, blinking hazily as though uncertain if what he was seeing was reality or if he was still asleep. Hermione hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard as she swallowed more of him until he gasped and his hips rocked helplessly.

Apparently, he decided it was the former.

His hands found her hair, threading through the curls as he guided her just the way he liked, slowly fucking her mouth and keeping her from taking too much and gagging as she had the first time she'd tried this. Hermione licked and sucked, tracing the veins underneath with the flat of her tongue before circling the crown.

"Such a clever mouth you have, Hermione." She glanced up in time to catch him raising a single dark brow at her obvious smugness, so he added, "Shame I didn't find such a good use for it sooner. Would have saved myself a – ahh, hmm."

Hermione flicked the slit, using the tip of her tongue to trace its length before bobbing forward again, taking him deeper and thus ending his ability to form a rational thought just then, let alone tease her. The crown hit the back of her throat, and she forced her throat to relax. His appreciation was clear in the way the tendons in his neck went taut as stretched cords.

The night before Snape had been playful and teasing, determined to drive her mad with desire. They'd spent hours in bed talking, and he'd spent even longer working her into such a frenzied state she'd been nearly sobbing with need and the desperation to come. He'd not let her until she practically begged, but when she had…oh Merlin had he rewarded her.

"Hermione," he said raspily.

She rewarded the inherent plea by gently massaging his balls and pumping the base of his shaft, the only bit not currently being savored in the wet, warmth of her mouth. Carefully, she squeezed and tugged them lightly, sending him shooting off into her mouth. Hermione swallowed the salty jets that coated her mouth, relishing her ability to make him lose control. It was such a juxtaposition to his typical calm demeanor.

"Come here, witch," he ordered, wedging his hands beneath her armpits and yanking her up.

"Severus!" she cried as her body was abruptly dragged up to drape over him before he kissed her savagely.

Hermione wondered if he'd have any objections to simply staying in bed all day. That wasn't too decadent, was it? They'd both earned a reprieve – that was for sure.

Fingers delved between her folds, stroking her leisurely and spreading the slickness to her clit and tapping out a random pattern against it. Her back arched, pressing her center more firmly against him, seeking the temptation he was only currently hinting at.

"You're always so ready for me after you do that," Snape commented, a touch of pride or arrogance bleeding through the casual observation.

Snape followed his words up by sinking two fingers into her deeply. All the way to the knuckle. Slowly, he pulled them back out then pressed them back in harder, rubbing against her inner walls until she gasped and moaned.

Hermione wondered if there was ever a time when she wasn't ready for him. Between the smokiness of his deep voice and the total dedication he provided to seeing to her needs, just the thought of being with him nearly had her begging for him. He'd trained her like one of those rats obsessed with pushing a pleasure button to the point that they starved themselves desiring nothing more than gratification.

"I wouldn't mind waking you up that way everyday," she said absently, relishing the way he was easing in and out of her, edging her closer towards her own release.

"Hermione," he said woodenly, all thoughts suddenly closed off from her, but with a remoteness that completely distracted her from the pleasure she'd been experiencing.

He noticed immediately, as capable as ever at reading her reactions. Withdrawing from her, he caught her hip instead, gripping her firmly to keep her from going anywhere.

It was very apparent he had a lot to say, and that she might not like all of it.

Would it really be so bad if this was their life? If they were truly together as they'd been for the last fifteen/sixteen hours?

Snape opened his mouth, but all that escaped was a hiss of pain. Hermione watched as he released her to clutch his arm, his hand clamping down over his Dark Mark.

So much for two days.

"Hermione, I don't know how long this will take," he warned, his unspoken thoughts clear – or if he'd return alone. She'd have been leaving that night anyways. It wasn't that much different leaving now.

"I know. I understand."

"I'm assuming this is regarding his plans for the fall term."

"Here. I have something for you," she said, darting from the room to get the parchment she'd spent the last month secretly creating in between studying for exams. She began explaining before she even returned, knowing he would be in pain the longer he delayed leaving. "It's spelled so we can communicate and speak more freely than we can with the coins, and only we can read what it says. If anyone else tries, it will read like a list of potion ingredients. Once you read what I've written, you can vanish the words so we don't run out of room."

"Clever. How'd you come up with this?" he'd dressed while she'd gone for the parchment and was already prepared to go.

"Harry's map. I owled Lupin to get the Privacy Charms," she confessed, having been unable to locate the spells the Marauders had originally used to create their infamous map.

A muscle worked in his jaw at the mention of Lupin, and she could tell he was displeased that the werewolf had done anything for her, no matter how mundane. There was no time to discuss it though. The pain he was in was apparent, judging by the way he clenched his fist.

"If the potions stop working, message me immediately," he commanded, running the back of his hand over her, and managing to snag her nipple in the process. It was a deliberate tease, and one that had her aching to return to bed with him.

"I will," she vowed, knowing how much he disliked the idea of her suffering for any reason. He'd proven that much to her repeatedly. It also reminded her of the book she'd found. "Are you still trying to create a counter?"

"Not at the moment. I have exhausted my available resources," Snape said evasively, his eyes darting away from hers as he spoke. A clear indication he was lying. One he'd never normally betray. Did he want her to call him on it? Or did the summoning pain he was in cause him to momentarily lose focus? She couldn't tell for certain.

Regardless, a persistent fluttering had taken up in her stomach. A thousand butterflies all battering their wings repeatedly. Different from the spell. This tasted of…hope.

Subconsciously, Hermione knew it should concern her how easily he found it to lie to her, and how convincingly he was able to do it more often than not, but she was currently stuck on his reasoning for lying. Did he want an excuse to stay with her? To remain married in every sense of the word?

"Does that bother you?" he questioned, pulling her flush against him.

Had he stopped earlier because he wanted to discuss that option as a real possibility?

Ha.

That was simply too much to long for.

"I know I'm not what you wanted, but…." But what? They were surprisingly good for each other? She enjoyed his company and believed he found hers tolerable at the very least? They were turning out to be compatible outside the bedroom as well as within it? In the end, she chickened out, simply saying, "But I think that's the best move. We each have far more pressing concerns at the moment, and other things that we should be focusing our attention on."

"My thoughts precisely," he replied smoothly.

Then he was gone, leaving her to see herself to the Burrow.

"I don't see why they need to be involved," Mrs. Weasley argued, repeating herself for the fourth time in the last twenty minutes. "They aren't in the Order and they're still in school!"

A fact she only believed because Ron was too scared to tell her the truth about what they had planned. Not that Hermione blamed him. The woman had been showing up wherever they were all week. And her aggressive questioning did absolutely nothing to reassure them that she'd handle the news with anything short of an atomic explosion.

"We're going with, Mum," Ron insisted, finally annoyed enough to stand up to her. "It's decided – not to mention necessary."

At the same time, Lupin calmly stated, "They're part of this, Molly. They're of age, and I'm sorry, but we need them involved for the plan to work."

"And what is this plan? We keep getting interrupted before you have a chance to explain," Fred said pointedly, glaring at his mum. Brave wizard. He was lucky he'd already moved out or there'd be hell to pay for sure.

Hermione tuned out Mrs. Weasley's continued protests. Part of her wished to speak up and point out that the woman wasn't her mum and had no right dictating what she did, but considering the woman had been kind enough to take her in a number of times over the years – baring the times she felt Hermione had wronged Harry or Ron in someway – and was currently putting her up, she decided this was one battle she could let Lupin fight for her.

This meeting was going about as well as the last few she'd attended had as they tossed out various ideas on how to move Harry the following week. Kingsley had informed them at the last meeting that the Ministry was too compromised to use any official means, so they were going to have to be creative while leaking lies about the Minister that they hoped made their way back to Voldemort.

Back to the drawing board – so to speak.

Hermione had relayed all of this to Snape, and he'd promised to come up with a solution and work it out for them. She was extremely curious to see how he'd manage that considering she was the only one he could talk to directly. He'd not answered when she'd tried to prod him about it the night before, only mentioning that, 'It was all taken care of.'

Whatever that meant.

She was worried about him. They'd needed to separate before they'd had a chance to discuss how he was coping with Dumbledore's death. Add to that a lack of any close ties or friendships, and he was completely on his own with only his thoughts for company. Dwelling on his circumstances couldn't be a good idea.

"If you all are done arguing and wasting time," Mad-Eye growled. "Mundungus, you can share what you've come up with."

"Wait, Dung came up with this brilliant plan?" Fred asked, stunned.

So that was how Snape presented his idea. Probably hadn't taken much magic either. Mundungus was rather weak-willed to begin with.

"And you trust it?" George added dubiously.

"He is good at subterfuge," Bill pointed out just as Moody growled, preparing to yell at them for interrupting.

"So what are we doing?" Tonks prodded, steering them back on track before things devolved further.

"We're going to fly him, but have a bunch of you all going in different directions so they don't know who to chase," he said simply, shrugging like the idea was obvious.

Ugh. Flying. Hermione hated flying. What was wrong with keeping your feet planted firmly on the ground? Damn Snape for coming up with such an awful idea that put her so far out of her element!

"They're thick, sure, but they're not likely to mistake me for Harry," George commented dryly, exchanging a grin with Fred. Probably he wanted to make a joke about the two of them getting mistaken for one another by their mum all the time.

"Me neither," Fred seconded. He opened his mouth, ready to start in, but Mad-Eye cut him off before he could.

"They will if you lot are disguised," he said gruffly.

"Polyjuice potion," Hermione murmured.

Lupin glanced at her, having heard and nodded, repeating the suggestion loud enough for the others to hear, "Polyjuice Potion should do the trick."

"How many do you think we need?" Kingsley asked. "We should probably stay in pairs to make it believable."

"Oh!" Tonks called, catching on. "One Harry and one guard. I like it."

"Seven pairs then. That should be enough to divide them and get the boy to safety then we can meet back here. Everyone fly a different direction. No sense trying to make detours or double back this time, we'll all just race to preassigned destinations," Mad-Eye said decisively.

"I can help set up the arrangements and protections on the safe houses this week since I don't need to go into work," Lupin offered, earning a nod of approval from Moody.

"We're in," Fred announced, dipping his chin in George's direction. "We're ok looking alike, so we can both look like Harry."

Mrs. Weasley began groaning, making her concerns apparent to all, though this time she thankfully kept them largely to herself. Mr. Weasley wrapped an arm comfortingly around her. "I'll go with one of them, Molly."

"Hermione and I can be Harrys too," Ron chimed in.

"No!" Mrs. Weasley cried, having known it would come to this all along, and unable to avoid returning to voicing her previous grievances. "It's too dangerous."

"Kingsley and I can each go with one of them. They'd be safest with Aurors, and Harry'll be with Mad-Eye," Tonks offered.

"Dora, are you sure?" Lupin asked the witch privately, tugging her closer. If Hermione hadn't been standing right beside them, she'd never have heard him over Mrs. Weasley's hysterics.

"Yes," Tonks said, setting her jaw mutinously.

Hermione wondered what that was about, then she noticed Lupin's hand flat against his new wife's stomach. Oh.

She couldn't imagine carrying a baby and fearing for a child right now. She was abruptly grateful Snape was so fastidious when it came to supplying her with birth control and ensuring she took it. He'd even given her a year's supply back when they were at Hogwarts just in case there came a time he was unable to provide her with it when she was due to take the next dose. The very last thing she wanted was to become a teen mum.

"I can't take Potter. Too obvious. He can go with Hagrid. His giant blood will make him be the hardest to take out," Mad-Eye told the assembled group, having had enough of Mrs. Weasley's arguments and apparently deciding that ignoring her was the best option.

"Are you sure he's the wisest choice? He has a tendency to behave a little rashly. I think I'd prefer Harry with me," Lupin suggested, wincing slightly at the unkind, though no less true, remark.

Honestly, Hermione had been thinking the same thing. Hagrid had a bad habit of not considering the consequences of his actions. He refused to see the world, and individuals, as they were instead of always giving them the benefit of the doubt when he shouldn't. It was a quality Harry suffered from as well.

Hermione bit her lip as she realized how much her internal thoughts had begun to take on Snape's tone. Not that she hadn't always been that way – Marietta Edgecombe could attest to her lack of faith in everyone – but still.

"Remus, please," Tonks and Mrs. Weasley both appealed to him at once.

"Go with one of the twins," Mrs. Weasley said earnestly, trusting him to look after her boys.

Lupin looked undecided. Hermione understood, Harry was like a son to him, but Dora's look said everything, 'Please don't put Harry above your own child. Our baby needs you to survive.'

"I agree. Hagrid really is the best option, Remus," Mr. Weasley said sympathetically.

"Another reason I can't, is because I'll be taking Dung with me," Mad-Eye added, considering the matter settled. "I don't trust him with any of you."

"What? No! I didn't volunteer for this suicide mission!" Mundungus argued, shrinking back and glancing about, a cornered rabbit searching for the best route to flee the approaching fox.

Mrs. Weasley looked distressed all over again. At this rate they'd never get done, and Hermione needed to contact Snape to inform him that it was all taken care of and his plan had worked.

"We need you. It's about time you did something useful for the Order," Bill said, shrugging when Dung turned to give him a look of betrayal.

"I came up with the plan, didn't I? Isn't that enough?" he tried feebly.

"No," Mad-Eye denied curtly.

"All right," Lupin conceded gracefully, "Harry goes with Hagrid, and Mundungus goes with Alastor. I'll go with George, Arthur can take Fred, then Bill and Fleur will go together while Kingsley goes with Hermione and Dora is with Ron. There, all settled then, so no need to keep debating it."

Hermione was ambivalent about being paired with Kingley. On one hand, he was a remarkable fighter and extraordinarily capable. On the other, those qualities were likely to make him a target early on. Hermione would probably have to fight, and she'd have to do so in the air – while flying. Wonderful.

"So they get to the safe houses, and what, Portkey here? How are we going to get the Portkeys from the safe houses approved? Someone at the Ministry might figure all this out if one of us register a bunch heading here," Kingsley pointed out.

"A pre-wedding dinner or stag night. Would that work?" Mr. Weasley asked, glancing about for approval. "The Ministry wouldn't think twice about non-Order members requesting Portkeys, especially if they're from places far from his aunt's house."

"Might work. I'll float it around tomorrow and see how it goes," Kingsley agreed.

"You're all overlooking one key factor," Hermione said impatiently, annoyed no one else had thought to bring up the obvious. Her interruption had gained the attention of everyone in the room. Flushing under their scrutiny, she explained, "Harry isn't going to go along with all of us putting ourselves at risk by pretending to be him. He knows how much they want him dead. He won't let –"

"You really think he can stop all of us?" Ron asked, shrugging off her concern.

"We need a bit of his hair for this to work. He won't give it willingly," she insisted, frustrated that Ron was treating her concern as a joke.

"He can't stop us if Hagrid sits on him," Fred suggested, grinning like a fool at the thought. To be fair, he was probably right.

"He won't like this," she persisted stubbornly.

"You're right. But he'll cooperate because it's the best way to keep him safe and get him in a position to do what needs to be done," Lupin said knowingly.

Hermione gave up arguing though. Harry should be part of this discussion. He'd absolutely hate that they were making decisions about him behind his back.

"Done? The only thing he'll be doing is staying safe long enough to go back to school," Mrs. Weasley said fiercely.

Ron exchanged a speaking glance with his father, but no one denied her claim or corrected her assumption.

Mrs. Wealsey had protested every suggestion they'd made, though the more she had, the more feeble the complaints sounded and the more they were ignored by the occupants of the room aside from her husband and Lupin. None of her sons commented or dared attempt to calm her, each knowing all they'd accomplish was reminding her that they were endangering themselves.

Afterwards, Hermione laid out the entire plan for Snape, seeking confirmation that it was as he'd intended. He didn't reply, so she figured he was occupied and wouldn't be able to read it until later. Ron had thrown himself face down on her bed as she wrote, but he turned over to glumly say, "If you need to post that, Pig should be back soon."

"It's not a letter, just a few plans and lists for this next year." Ron nodded absently, and rolled to flop on his back with a tremendous sigh. "Ron? Is something the matter?"

"I sent Pig with a letter to Lavender," he answered, covering his face with his hands.

"I take it you weren't sending an invitation for her to be your date to the wedding," she prodded, knowing he wanted her to ask more.

"No."

"Are you going to tell me or do I have to drag it out of you?"

"I broke up with her," he mumbled, the words garbled and muffled by his arm and the obvious regret he was feeling.

"Why would you go and do a fool thing like that?" Hermione demanded, not having expected him to do that.

"I wanted to do right by her. I don't know when I'll see her again, and it's not going to be safe to contact her at all this year. I didn't want her waiting around for me when who knows how long this will take, or if being with Harry will be a death sentence for us – don't look at me like that, Hermione, we both know it's not an unreasonable assumption to make."

"I know it's not. We've both always known, but neither of us have ever actually said it before," Hermione said softly. That was what it meant to be Harry's friend and be part of the fight.

"The people around Harry have a tendency to get hurt," he said bluntly. "To die."

"Are you worried about yourself or Lavender?"

"Both. I'd never tell Harry, but I'm bloody terrified. If the three of us make it through to the end it'll be a bloody miracle."

She'd been so worried about Snape dying. Was he equally worried about her? Probably. He was significantly more pragmatic and knowledgeable about these sorts of situations. Although….

"Are you in love with her?" Hermione asked suddenly, not willing to venture down the path of guessing Snape's thoughts or emotions. She was bound to be wrong. The path was too murky and treacherous, with hidden traps and trip wires every few steps.

"I think so. I mean we – is it all right? Us talking about this," Ron said, visibly flustered. Red tinged his cheeks.

"We can. I think we can…yes," Hermione declared, giving a brusque nod.

"Well we…you know…"

"Oh! At Hogwarts?" Hermione squeaked. Had she really thought she was the only one sneaking around? Of course not. Though it did surprise her that Ron had taken that step given how little he'd regarded Lavender initially.

"It's not that uncommon," Ron mumbled, then sat up suddenly. "But Harry didn't…he wouldn't…." Ron looked faintly ill at the thought.

"Highly doubtful. Given the way he's been treated all his life, affection of any sort is difficult for him. I'm sure Ginny is easing him in slowly," Hermione said crisply, trying not to roll her eyes at the double standard and the obvious influence of Mrs. Weasley on Ron's ideals. He was such a handful at times.

"Better be," Ron said menacingly, making Hermione give in and visibly roll her eyes at him, huffing loudly as she did. Ron flushed a bit more, but she could tell from the mutinous expression he wore that he refused to change his stance where his sister was concerned. He'd probably believe her an untouched virgin up until the day she died – even if she had a dozen or more kids at that point. "But yeah, we did and I can't stop thinking about her."

"Her or sex?" Hermione wondered if a teenage boy could actually separate the two, but who was she to judge. Snape had warned her not to do that very thing herself. She was confident she hadn't, and that her feelings had developed for other reasons – not that he'd ever believe it.

"Both maybe? Bloody hell, this is hard to talk about with you," Ron said, face scrunching as he puzzled it out.

"Is it easier with Harry?"

"Nah, not really. He gets all weird about discussing emotions," Ron admitted, which came as little surprise to Hermione. She'd known he was stunted in that arena – had already commented on it, in fact. "But it feels wrong, what with you being a girl and all," he explained matter-of-factly. "It's indelicate or whatever Mum calls it."

"Funny how you remember now. For years you didn't notice," Hermione teased dryly. Interesting how her tone when she did was beginning to mimic Snape's eerily closely.

"Guess I just don't think about it much," he said, offering her a sheepish smile. It was all the evidence Hermione needed that he'd finally stopped fancying her.

"Will you try to repair things with Lavender after the war?" Given his dark thoughts earlier, she wondered if he dared hope for such a future the way she was.

"That's the plan. Assuming Mum doesn't try to lock me in a tower or something. Can you believe how she was tonight? She just wouldn't lay off in there," Ron complained, punching her pillow with his fist.

"She's just worried about you. You're lucky she cares as much as she does," Hermione said quietly, feeling a pang in her chest at knowing just how much the Weasley parents loved their kids. Hers had once loved her the same. But that was gone now, and she couldn't ever get it back.

"Ah, Hermione, I'm sorry. Bugger it. I completely forgot what you told me," Ron said, moving to drape an arm over her shoulders. It was uncomfortably heavy, but she appreciated the gesture anyway.

"It's all right," she allowed.

Not long after she arrived, Ron had cornered her and asked why she'd come to the Burrow so soon. She'd folded immediately, feeling vulnerable and frustrated after her time with Snape was cut short. It hadn't helped that Ron and Mrs. Weasley were fighting when she got there, and he'd carelessly said something about her being lucky her parents weren't nagging her the way his were. The story she'd concocted just sort of spilled out, and she'd finally been able to take some comfort in her friend at her loss. It hadn't been until it was happening that she'd realized just how much she'd needed the support. And it had almost been like he was comforting her for the rest that had happened as well, even if he was still in the dark about things like Crabbe's attack. But that had been almost two weeks ago, and she'd refused to discuss it again. It was easier to keep track of the lies if said as little as possible – a trick Snape had taught her.

"You sure?"

"Yes, go on complaining," Hermione urged.

"No, 's fine. I don't feel right about it now. What're you working on?" His question made it clear he'd not actually listened when she'd mentioned it earlier. Course that was nothing new.

"Making sure we have all the ingredients necessary to make all of the basic potions in case we need them while we're gone," Hermione said, glancing down to see Snape had finally replied.

'I don't want you there.'

'Too bad.'

His response was immediate, though she should have expected it. He wasn't used to people refusing to obey him. But he let her get away with it.

'Insufferable Know-It-All.'

Hermione's amused snort went unnoticed as Ron spoke, saying, "Bloody hell. I didn't even think about that. Not like we'll just be able to hit up the hospital wing, is it?"

"No," she said, suddenly realizing the boys would have been hopelessly lost without her help. They'd have stood no chance. Harry wasn't any better at preparing than Ron was.

'There will be a fight, and it will be deadly. The Dark Lord is leading the attack personally.'

Hermione's breath caught. She'd not anticipated that. The knowledge was terrifying.

Luckily, Ron was too focused on himself to notice or pick up on her sudden distress.

'Sit this one out,' he wrote again, attempting to persuade her.

'I can't.'

"Guess it's a good thing we'll have you along then," Ron said happily, always grateful when someone else was willing to do the work for him.

"Someone has to plan ahead and prepare for all of the various contingencies," Hermione said drolly, having resigned herself to that role long ago.

'Harry will be with Hagrid. Make sure You-Know-Who doesn't target them. Direct him towards the rest of us if you can,' Hermione wrote quickly, taking advantage of Ron's brief silence.

'And who will you be with?'

'Not sure yet. Only Harry's placement was decided,' she lied, not wanting him to spend the whole time protecting her instead of looking after Harry as he was meant to be doing.

'Inform me immediately once you know,' he ordered, confirming her suspicions of his plans.

"Speaking of…Harry's got a plan for us, right?"

"I think so," she said, then paused, really thinking about it. Slowly, Hermione met Ron's worried gaze. "I mean he met with Dumbledore all those times. Surely…."

"Yeah, but why didn't Dumbledore just take care of everything himself then?" Ron asked, showing a surprising amount of awareness.

"I'm not sure, Ron. Maybe he couldn't?" she ventured, dread settling over her in a heavy mantle that threatened to send her to her knees.

She couldn't believe the thought had never before occurred to her. Did Harry actually know what to do? Had Dumbledore given him all of the necessary information? Had his injury and declining health prevented him from doing more himself? Or was he as clueless as the rest of them….

"Maybe…."

The sound of Mrs. Weasley charging down the hall alerted them to her imminent approach.

Hermione glanced at the charmed paper, she really didn't want to waste the opportunity to speak with Snape.

Ron sighed, announcing in a woebegone voice, "Don't worry, I'll head her off." Such a martyr.

He'd barely exited the room before his mum began, saying, "The hedges out back need trimmed –"

"It's nearly dark out!" Ron complained.

"Then you can help Ginny tie ribbons in the kitchen," Mrs. Weasley countered, and Hermione could easily picture her hands on her hips as she bossed her youngest son around.

"I'll take the hedges," Ron conceded ungraciously.

"That's what I thought. Now, have you seen Hermione? She can help Ginny."

"No. Not since the meeting. I think she mentioned owling her parents," Ron said evasively, covering for her as promised.

"Oh, well, yes. I'm sure they miss her and would appreciate hearing from her," Mrs. Weasley said thickly.

A pang radiated through Hermione's chest at the words. If only they were true. But they weren't. She had no one. No one except Snape.

No. Put that way, it sounded wrong. She didn't want him because he was her only option. It was so much more.

All the chaos in her mind seemed to funnel down her arm and into the quil she suddenly found herself using to write, 'I don't just want you to survive this war. I want you to live for me. I want to really be with you.'

Hermione stared at the words, hardly daring to believe she'd just admitted that to Snape.

It was so much easier to admit this way. He'd know she meant it, even if he couldn't read the truth for himself in her mind. But this was the only time she felt truly brave baring her emotions to him. Now, when there was no chance of seeing pity in his eyes.

'We've discussed this.'

'Not this exactly.'

'I can't give you what you need. It wouldn't be fair to you. You deserve to fall in love with someone your age and be happy.'

It sounded like what Ron had said earlier regarding Lavender. It sounded like Harry when he'd broken off with Ginny. It was so stupid. They didn't know what was going to happen. They could all be dead in a month's time. Why were they wasting the opportunities they had?

'You make me happy. I'm your wife.'

It was the truth. She loved the way he kept her on her toes, always forcing her to think four moves ahead and consider every alternative. Adored the way he challenged her, encouraging her to form her own opinions versus repeating others' thoughts. Relished the way he touched her, bringing every inch of her body to life in ways she'd never anticipated.

The only thing she didn't like was thinking it was all temporary. That it could be snatched away from her as quick and violent as a flash of lightning tearing the sky apart.

'Hermione, this isn't the time. Was anything else said at the meeting?'

Frustrated, she let it go, knowing he'd simply refuse to reply if she persisted further. Stubborn git.

'Nothing relevant.'

'Nothing? Are you positive I can't get you to reconsider your role during this scheme?'

'No. Of course I'll be a decoy. It's the logical move.'

'Of course.'

'Are you worried about me?'

'Always.'

The word, a truth she knew he was loath to admit, was a balm to her wounded pride after his previous dismissal. Yet it left her with a sense of hope. The blasted hope that remained flickering within her, refusing to die out entirely because he just kept adding fuel to it bit by bit.

'Stay safe, Sev.'

No response. Apparently he'd exhausted his store of vulnerable emotions. Next time.