Author's Note

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

Any dialogue you recognize comes from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Most is changed at least a bit though to fit right.

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


Ch 27: Puzzle Pieces

Gentle fingers stroking and seeking woke Hermione. They explored between her legs, delving into the most sensitive places and coaxing a willing response from her body. Every neglected and abandoned nerve woke to Snape's questing touch, eager to feel what they'd been deprived of for months.

Once he was sure she was awake and alert, he cupped her sex, rubbing her more insistently to ready and prepare her for their joining. Her body cried out for him, begging to be reunited.

"Do you want this?" he breathed, nipping her earlobe.

"You know I do," she answered, shifting her leg to give him more room to caress her slick slit, letting him feel the proof for himself. "I always want you."

"Yes," he agreed, rolling her onto her back and moving to hover over her.

She'd not expected him to initiate anything, but seeing him above her, and feeling the heavy weight of his hot length branding her inner thigh, was enough to have her reaching up to grab his neck. She used her hold to leverage herself up and fasten her lips against his.

His response ignited her, poured fire directly into her blood, fueled by the quick thrust that had him seated to the hilt inside her sheath. Her muscles stretched and burned from the intrusion, unaccustomed to being filled after such a lengthy bit of time without even her own fingers using them in such a way.

The lack of privacy in the tent made it impossible to find release on her own regardless of her need. Though dark thoughts often put a damper on any desire she did feel on the occasions her thoughts wandered to Snape, so it didn't matter most of the time.

"Hermione," he groaned, gasping her name against her lips.

Then he moved, slowly rolling his hips so his pelvis rubbed her aching nub with just enough friction to make her shutter and jerk. She could feel the smirk he wore as his lips trailed down her neck, pressing open mouthed kisses along the column until he reached her thrumming pulse and sucked the tender spot until her toes curled and her nails scraped lines down his back, scoring the toned planes.

He took his time, playing with her and working her into a frenzied state of need. She barely felt like herself as she kissed and touched him, returning the pleasure he offered with equal fervor and squeezing her inner walls around him hard enough to wring a strangled groan from his decadent lips.

The rough pads of his fingers squeezed the pebbled peak of her left nipple when her teeth tugged at his earlobe, and his hips lost the steady rhythm they'd been riding her with. Snape bucked hard, and if he hadn't been pinning her beneath him, she'd have slid into the headboard from the force of it. She nipped him again, and braced for the succession of wicked thrusts he gave her in response, moaning at the bliss he delivered.

Had they always been so good together? If so, why had they ever gotten out of bed? They could have avoided so much unpleasantness if they'd simply revealed in each other and remained a pile of tangled limbs wrapped up in silk sheets, forgetting the rest of the world.

When he shifted, moving to kneel over her, Hermione eagerly wrapped her legs about his waist, drawing him back inside her and groaning at the feel of this thick length filling her completely. Not an inch of space separated their bodies. She could feel him everywhere, surrounding her, enveloping her in warmth and joy.

For the first time in months, Hermione felt safe.

He took her fast and hard then, done with playing and savoring their reunion as he snapped his hips roughly. But he waited until just before she came to lean in and breathe, "Don't forget that I am your husband – not Potter."

His possessive claim sent her over the edge, and he nipped her neck, the blunt pressure elevating her to a higher pinnacle before she crashed to the ground in a hail of falling stars, swearing she'd been granted a glimpse of the hereafter first thanks to his efforts.

Without pausing to catch his breath from his own release, Snape eased down her body to fasten his mouth against her clit, licking her to another orgasm, his infamously sharp tongue being put to far better uses than flaying his ignorant students bare. No doubt he tasted their essences mixed together as he feasted and marked her as his, but that only seemed to make him more wild and hungry than ever.

She was so sensitive that it didn't take long for her to come apart, her nerves electric and sparking, live wires dancing.

"You needn't worry, Severus," Hermione panted, meeting his penetrating gaze as he crawled up her body, sliding his against hers deliciously as he went. "I know I'm yours. You've ruined me for all others."

"That wasn't my intention," he said carefully, though without a trace of regret or remorse.

"This would never be as good with anyone else," she stated knowingly.

She didn't need to be with anyone else to know she'd never feel so uninhibited or connected to another. Sure, she could probably fall in love again someday, but Snape reached her on every level, intellectually, emotionally, and physically. Even now, after months apart and countless doubts, it felt right. She felt like she'd finally come home and found a measure of happiness despite everything else going on.

"Yes," he murmured, kissing her softly. "It's infinitely better with you."

"This year…things have been strained. I didn't know you felt that way. I wasn't sure…," she trailed off, hoping he'd reassure her, but not expecting him to.

"Our relationship is not traditional. We have expectations and obligations that make things…particularly challenging," Snape said stiltedly, but she saw his expression soften before he plainly stated, "I am not sure admitting as much is the wisest course, but I want you. I've missed you. And, Hermione, if you need to hear me say it, though I know I shouldn't, I could not find more pleasure with another than I do with you."

"All right," she said, feeling her throat go dry.

"All right?" he asked, lips twitching at her loss for words.

"As you said, we probably shouldn't say any more on the subject," she said breathlessly, not wanting to ruin the moment by hearing him repeat that he'd never love her. It was enough to know he desired her and enjoyed their time together. After hearing the Horcrux tell her differently for months, even that was a soothing balm for her soul.

"I'm glad you're finally able to admit that I'm always right."

"Hmph," she snorted. "We have to go. I wish we didn't. I've missed you too – so much, Severus. But Harry can't know I brought him here," Hermione said with great reluctance. She'd slept for hours then Snape had staked his claim, pushing the limits of how long they could expect the Dreamless Sleeping Draught to last for.

He didn't argue or suggest they dose Harry again. Snape was far too practical for that. No, he just sighed and began to dress, expecting her to do likewise.

"I have a plan to get you the sword. Be in the Forest of Dean in two days. Do you know the place?" he asked, startling her with the change in topic.

"Yes, I went once with my parents," she said, trying not to think about the fact she'd never do so again.

It had dawned on her in the cemetery that the anniversary of her mum's death had come and gone without her even realizing she'd been dead for a whole year. And with Harry present, she'd had to mask what she was feeling. There wasn't time now to dwell either, but soon, probably the next time she was on watch while Harry slept, she had a feeling she'd break down and finally let herself feel everything – the terror of Voldemort nearly catching them, the fear at seeing Harry trapped in his nightmare, poisonous venom steadily coursing through his veins, loss over her parents, anger over Ron's abandonment, frustration over their continuous dead ends, and most of all, longing for Snape and the life denied them.

Next opportunity she had, she'd let it all in, and hopefully a good long cathartic cry would help release some of it back out. One could hope, at least.

Snape nodded, sliding a hand low around her hip, easing her towards him as though detecting the dark train of thought plaguing her. She felt his fingers trace little circles against the small of her back. It was the sort of touch one did absently, out of familiarity and an assurance that they were welcome.

Hermione studied him, memorizing him in case they were parted for months again. His mussed hair, combined with the spark in his eyes and glow in his cheeks from their recent encounter, made him look years younger. More than that, he looked…almost happy.

"Thank you. For everything," she murmured, going up on her toes to kiss him softly.

"You never have to thank me. I will always help you, so long as I am able," he said, releasing her and moving to a bookshelf that was every bit as cluttered and overstuffed as the ones in the living room downstairs.

Hermione watched him retrieve something, but he kept it concealed within his fist as he returned to her, taking her left hand as he said, "One more thing."

He paused, letting go of her and gesturing for her right hand instead. Curiosity had her obeying without thought. A noticeable flush stained his cheeks, throwing her off, but before she could comment, he was sliding a tiny, delicate ring onto her third finger.

The silver band was so thin she nearly missed seeing it altogether, and spaced evenly around the circlet were just over a dozen small round diamonds that sparkled and shone, casting miniature rainbows where the light hit them. It was feminine and romantic, and made Hermione feel surprisingly…married – particularly given the finger he'd initially planned to place it on even if he had used the other hand to help her avoid questions from Harry.

"Sev," she breathed, too stunned to say more, though his flush had deepened impossibly more.

"I know it looks fragile, but it won't ever bend or break. I've spelled it to be every bit as strong as you," he said meaningfully, echoing his words from the night before, and adding, "then there's the added benefit that it's neutral enough that it shouldn't draw any unwanted attention."

"Why?"

"Our…anniversary was a few days ago," he explained, ducking his head slightly. Hermione didn't let him hide from her, reaching to tuck his hair behind his ear and letting her hand linger on his neck until he met her gaze again and finished, "It didn't seem right not to acknowledge its passing."

"I hadn't realized," she admitted, the Potters' graves having reminded her only of her family, and not the other outcome of that day. "It hardly seems possible that we've been married over a year now."

"I hope it has not been too trying a year," he said, though she caught the unspoken question.

"I believe surprising might be a more apt description," she suggested, not daring to say more after his silence the night before even if they had broached near enough to the topic just minutes earlier.


"You have it?" Harry asked, panic tinging his voice.

"It's here," Hermione said reluctantly, digging the broken halves of wood from the pocket of her robes.

Relief had him slumping forward, but it quickly faded when he tried and failed to repair the destroyed wand. Then she was the one on edge when he'd insisted on borrowing hers to keep watch that night. Anxiety threatened to drown her the entire time it was out of her reach. And that night, even without the locket, she dreamed of Crabbe and woke up in a cold sweat, half convinced she'd find him leering over her bound form.

Harry hadn't taken the news about his wand well at all, but worse was the betrayal he seemed to feel at finding proof that Dumbledore had once been friends with Grindelwald and had wanted to subjugate Muggles. He'd really believed his mum's letter was just idle gossip. Hermione didn't like it either, but she found it easier to separate the ambitious boy he'd been from the compassionate headmaster he'd become.

Not that he didn't still play games and manipulate to serve his own ends.

But that had been two days ago, and now Hermione was anxiously awaiting Snape's arrival so she could learn about his plan to get them the sword. He'd promised to come, but he was late, which left her pacing before the tent, trying valiantly to stay warm in the frigid December evening.

She couldn't wait to see him. She'd realized something since she'd gone to him for help, and she was furious with him. How dare he –

As though her thoughts had summoned him, Snape materialized before her all black robes and brooding scowl as he took her in.

"Well?" she asked crisply.

"Destroying that locket can't happen soon enough," he said, raising a brow at her as he looked less than pleased by the tone she'd used.

"Yes, yes, I'm constantly waspish with it, and you're tired of it and want to insult me, but you're graciously refraining, I get it. Now, what's the plan?" she snapped, rolling her eyes impatiently. This day had been too long in coming.

"Weasley's been trying to find you. It should work perfectly," he said vaguely.

"That wasn't exactly an explanation," she said shortly, crossing her arms.

"Consider it payback for your recent silences," he countered, probably having expected it to change after she'd left his house two days earlier. Instead, she'd refused to reply at all once she'd figured out what he'd done. She didn't want to speak to him until she could see his face when they had this particular conversation.

"Something has been bothering me since I left your house," she said evenly, willing herself to remain calm.

"Obviously."

"Don't be an arse. Not about this."

"Considering you've yet to be forthcoming about whatever imagined transgression you believe me to have –"

"Imagined?" she shrieked, only barely succeeding in lowering her voice to avoid alerting Harry by the end of her exclamation. "Trust me, there's nothing imagined about what I know you've done."

"Spit it out, Hermione…unless you'd rather I search your mind for the answer," he threatened, not liking how unawares she'd caught him.

He would too. Hermione could tell how frustrated he was with her for the distance they'd been experiencing during their months apart, and now her verbal attack on his person.

"The spell…it hasn't activated since August for either of us," she relayed, staring him down. He inhaled sharply, understanding flashing across his face before he masked his reaction. "You found a way to counter it."

For nearly a minute he studied her before he accepted that it wasn't a question, nor was she surprised that he'd been able to do it.

Snape shifted back, his head tilting as his obsidian gaze narrowed to the tip of an arrowhead. "You saw the book."

"Yes," she admitted, turning to watch a bird, already leaner from the winter months, hop across a snow dusted branch, dollops of white falling when it shook. "You successfully created a counter spell…you ended that…connection…that spell that bound us…and you didn't tell me."

Of course he didn't. You're a child. And a bratty little shrew at that.

Hermione willed herself to take a deep breath and ignore the locket. She could almost swear it released a hissing laugh at her feeble attempt to block the taunts.

"Our marriage binds us, not a spell. And I should point out, you didn't mention knowing I had a way to do so. Something you have also known for months," he countered defensively, crossing his arms as well as he tried to shift the blame.

"And you think that makes what you did all right?" she demanded, huffing incredulously.

He was acting like a petulant child. Not that she was much better, but this was her first real relationship. He'd had years more practice – some other mystery witch he'd loved and lost – surely that meant he was supposed to be doing a better job at this than he was. Better than she was at least.

"Did you want to remain subject to a spell's whims?"

"Of course not!"

"It was too dangerous to leave it intact. There was no guarantee one or both of us wouldn't suffer and be exposed as a result of it," he argued.

"I know that," she snapped, unable to deny the truth of his statement.

"Then I don't see the problem –"

"You didn't think to inform me before doing something that affects both of us!" she hissed, poking her finger into his chest. "You made a unilateral decision. We're in this together, Severus!"

"If you're expecting an apology –"

"No. I'm not naive enough to think you'd ever apologize for anything," she snorted, knowing he'd never admit to being wrong. It simply wasn't who he was. He was more in the habit of extending gestures when he wished to make amends.

"Then what do you want, Hermione?" he asked coolly, stance rigid as he braced himself for her response.

That was a good question. She hadn't gotten that far in her musings, having focused more on convincing herself that confronting him about it was the right move.

For months the locket consistently urged her to snap at every little thing. This, by contrast, was a rather big thing, demanding a bigger than usual reaction on her part.

Finally, she said, "I want you to admit that you want this too. That you want to be with me, despite the spell."

Hermione winced at the pleading quality that rang clearly through the still night air. The locket taunted her, accusing her of being pathetic and young. Blocking out the internal thoughts was nearly impossible, but she willed her mind to quiet.

When Snape didn't immediately reply, she continued, accusing, "You didn't want me to know because you wanted things to continue as they have. But it doesn't have to be like that, Sev. We don't need a spell forcing us to be together to simply be together. I want this. I want –"

"You don't know what you want," he barked, spinning away from her. "You've completely shut me out for the last few months. Now, for the first time, mind you, you're saying something you've given absolutely no indication of wanting prior to now."

The hurt he felt by what he probably saw as an abandonment was nearly tangible, but the words pricked her temper, making her hiss, "Don't treat me like a child. You know that was the Horcrux's influence."

"This," he said, stepping closer to gesture between them, "only ever seems like it's working because it's secret. No one has an opinion or chance to interfere."

"You think I'd let someone talk me out of caring for you?" Hermione gasped, shaking her head in denial.

"You needn't say it as though the idea is absurd. It has merit," he said smoothly, mask of careful indifference descending. Quietly, pain streaking across his face like a shooting star before he could mask it, he whispered, "It's happened before."

"Before? When has public opinion ever mattered or swayed me?" Hermione demanded hotly, furious that he'd think so little of her. "I'm not so weak willed as all that, and I wouldn't still be friends with Harry if it could."

"Potter. You truly think he won't weigh in on this?" Snape sneered acerbically, hatred shattering the blank expression in an instant. "You think you won't turn your back on me the second he sneers his disgust at the idea of you caring for me? The instant he shutters in revulsion upon learning you've willingly touched me, let alone slept with me?"

"Oh, I'm sure he'll try," Hermione said sourly, wishing she could deny it, but knowing it was the truth, "but I've always made up my own mind."

"It's moot regardless," Snape said, burying his face in his hands.

"Because you don't want to survive," she hissed, wanting nothing more than to knock some sense into him. He was so blasted stubborn – worse than her. Why couldn't –

"I want to," he whispered, unraveling the inferno of rage blistering her from the inside out. The quiet confession stopped the flames right in their tracks, dousing them with an ocean of freezing arctic water.

"What?"

"It doesn't matter," he said.

"Of course it matters! You can't say something like that then –"

"When the Dark Lord discovers my true allegiance, and I don't see how he wouldn't, given what will happen, he'll kill me. You know he will," Snape said, regret as solid and frozen as ice.

"No," Hermione argued, "he doesn't ever need to find out. We'll finish this before he can."

"Hermione, use that brain you value so highly. When the end comes, I will side against him. I have to for so many reasons. I won't stand on the sidelines. I've told you before – it's driven me this far, and now…given what he plans, and what needs to happen," he shook his head, continuing, "…anyways, I've waited too long for my revenge," he said fiercely, his broken thoughts making little sense beyond the absolute determination and commitment he felt regarding his decision.

"But…."

"This is why I didn't want to tell you how I regard our time together or how I feel," he said bleakly.

"How do you feel?" she pressed, willing him to open up even more to her.

"Enough. This discussion is over. It must be. You should get some sleep. I'll arrange for Potter to get the sword during his watch at dawn," Snape said abruptly, ending the conversation with a chilling finality.

"You think I can sleep after this?" she said, releasing a single, near hysterical laugh. "Between what you've told me and the locket twisting all my thoughts up constantly –"

"I could give you a sleeping potion," he offered, the unwanted consultation scraping her skin like sandpaper.

"If I'd wanted one, I could have prepared my own," she stated flatly.

He merely nodded. "You'll be fine on your own, Hermione. You'll have no trouble moving on when this is over."

Desperate to shake his unflappable control or steer him towards a different path, Hermione threw herself at him, kissing him with all the longing and aching love she felt for him. Snape surrendered himself to the kiss, or she thought he did, returning it with equal passion, but after a minute he ended it.

"Stay safe, Hermione," Snape intoned sadly.

He was already gone when she said, "You too, Severus."

It was incredible how much it hurt knowing he had no intention of heeding the words. She'd always understood what he'd intended, but now she saw that she'd been hanging onto a kernel of hope. And now even that was gone.

Waking Harry for his shift, Hermione barely registered when she handed over the locket. Her thoughts never improved. But she found she could sleep after all. All it took was about two hours of crying first before she drifted off, utterly spent and emotionally drained.


It was the sound of the boys' excitement that finally woke her less than three hours after sleep had claimed her.

She was groggy and disoriented when she faced them, spent from the tumultuous encounter with Snape. Her eyes were swollen and blurry, gritty from already having expelled too much moisture. So when Ron offered a sheepish smile, she lost it. Hermione launched herself forward and began hitting every inch of him that she could reach, determined to take all of her stress and anxiety out on his person.

"Ouch – ow – gerroff!" he cried, batting her hands away.

"You – complete – arse – Ronald – Weasley! Oh, where's my wand?" she hissed, searching for Harry as she continued raining blows down on Ron, secretly wishing he was Snape.

"Hermione! Calm –"

"I will not calm down!" she snarled, recalling the weeks of silence between herself and Harry, the disastrous encounter at Godric's Hollow, and her certainty that she'd be a widow when the war ended. It was too much, she had to release some of it or she'd explode. She felt like a wild animal raging out-of-control, and she didn't care in the least. "Give me back my wand! Give it to me!"

"Hermione, will you please –"

"Don't you tell me what to do, Harry Potter!"

Ron tried again, taking advantage of her redirected anger, pleading, "Hermione, I'm sorry, I'm really –"

"Oh, you're sorry!" she mocked, steam practically billowing from her ears.

A loud buzzing whistle, like that of a teakettle, blocked out most of Ron's explanation as he defended himself and made excuses before relaying how he and Harry had destroyed the locket, not even bothering to wait until they'd woken her to do it.

Even if she'd not been too infuriated to listen, her mind would have been too wrapped up by the one detail that had snagged her attention with an unprecedented completeness.

"It was a doe. Who do you think cast it?" Ron asked, repeating the singular fact that truly mattered.

A doe?

Hermione knew who'd done it – Snape. But a doe? His Patronus was a doe?

The female counter to a stag. The female half of James Potter…

Lily.

Lily Potter – no, Lily Evans.

It all made sense.

All of the puzzle pieces snapped into place, a complete picture forming before her, so clear it was amazing she'd been so blind to the truth prior to that moment.

Hermione was a bloody fool.

The mystery witch was Lily Evans.

Perfect. Beautiful. Brave. Brilliant. Legendary Lily.

Severus – not Snape, not the man she'd grown up knowing, not the man who had reluctantly married her, not the enigmatic spy, but the complete person – Severus – had loved Lily, but she'd chosen James over Severus.

Had they been together before Lily and James? As far as Hermione knew, Lily hadn't given James a chance until seventh year. That could have been because she'd been with Severus up until that point. It'd make a twisted sort of sense. It wasn't as though anyone would be rushing to share something like that with Harry, so it was certainly possible.

It would also explain Severus's jealousy over Harry – he was seeing the past repeat itself. Sirius and Severus both seemed to mix Harry and James up, believing the two interchangeable. Severus had even brought up Hermione choosing Harry over him multiple times. For him, it'd be Lily and James all over again.

Because he had loved her.

No, not had loved her, he was still in love with her.

Lily was the reason he'd turned traitor and agreed to spy for Dumbledore. He'd been trying to save her. Everything was for Lily. Everything. And when that failed, he'd devoted his life to protecting her son.

Even the night before he'd admitted that his revenge, revenge for her death, was worth more to him than trying to live.

It was all for Lily. It was all about Lily. Everything that mattered to Severus – it was all Lily.

What was Hermione compared to all of that?

Severus's heart had belonged to another for longer than she'd been alive. She'd never stood a chance with him. Which of course he'd warned her about at the very beginning.

I'll never love you.

A bloody, naive fool.

"Well? What do you think?" Harry asked, throwing the destroyed locket onto her lap and breaking her free from her unwanted revelation.

Hermione looked at it, but she barely saw the shattered glass framed in each half's window.

Her heart was breaking, shattering into more pieces than the locket she held. Wordlessly, she shoved the necklace into her bag and climbed into her bed, burying herself beneath the blankets and casting Muffliato so they wouldn't hear when she cried herself to sleep for the second time in less than twelve hours or hear when Harry tried to make excuses to Ron on her behalf.


The next morning Ron cornered her. He didn't say a word about the obvious crying jag she'd had. More surprisingly, he didn't assume it had centered around him.

"I know you're still angry with me, and you have every right to be," Ron began solemnly.

"Oh, I know I do," she said tartly, only managing to keep her temper in check because he wasn't brushing his part in everything aside the way he usually did. And he had destroyed the foul locket…

"Right. Well, the thing is…I need your help," Ron said beseechingly.

"My help," she repeated dubiously.

"I need you to teach me how to fight," Ron explained, his entire face turning a concerning shade of puce. "I want you to teach me everything I was too lazy to learn these last seven years."

Hermione studied the wizard before her. Ron never admitted when he was wrong, but he just had. He also never asked for help without it being a joke or ploy to get her to do the work for him. Yet right then he was as serious as she had ever seen him, and he was facing a truth he'd buried his head in the sand about since long before Hermione had ever met him.

"What happened when you destroyed the locket?" she asked, thinking back and noting they'd glossed over that bit in their recounting the night before.

"Do you remember mum's boggart? It was like that," Ron said gravely, ghosts dancing hauntingly in the blues of his eyes. His voice was thick with barely suppressed emotion as he confessed, "Lavender was dead. Ginny and my brothers too. My parents. You and Harry. And it told me it was my fault for not being enough.

"It was right. That messed up, vile piece of soul was right about me. It saw me clearly – clearer than I could see myself or those around me –and forced me to face the truth. All those doubts it kept whispering in my head – they were all true."

It saw the truth. The locket made Ron confront what he'd never been brave enough to on his own…was the same true for Hermione? It had said she wasn't enough for Severus, and that seemed to be the case. She wasn't Lily, and she never would be.

Hermione swallowed, determined not to think about it anymore. She'd had her cry, and knew there were more important things happening that she needed to focus on beyond her destroyed heart.

"I know you've always been a bit insecure," Hermione allowed, trying to be sensitive in the face of his obvious pain, feeling a kinship form between them as they both suffered from facing harsh truths.

"More than a bit. But it's my fault. I've never done anything about it. I've never tried to fix the root of the problem. I didn't study harder to surpass my brothers in my parents' eyes. I didn't do anything courageous to earn fame like Harry from our classmates. I made this bed for myself. That's why I need your help," he insisted, intensity and determination visibly driving him. "Time to face reality and do something about it."

Ron was facing a truth he'd long denied, unable to deal with what it entailed prior to seeing his fears played out before him. But now things were different.

Absently, Hermione touched the ring on her finger, wondering if she should take the meaningless symbol off. But she'd not quite reached that level of acceptance that Ron had. Even if Severus didn't love her, she loved him, and she was still his wife – if only for a bit longer.

Ron's eyes tracked her movement, and he stared at the unfamiliar ring, but he said nothing, letting it go for once as he waited to see if she'd be willing or not to teach him.

Somehow, it was the easiest thing in the world for her to acknowledge the degree of bravery it had taken Ron to approach her and admit all he had, and for her to agree. "All right. Let's get started today."

For the next few months, Ron was a machine. He poured over Hermione's books, studying every defensive spell he was unfamiliar with and having Hermione help him master how to cast it. Then he spent hours dueling with her and Harry, the latter was thrilled by the physical outlet, needing it after his months of brooding.

Hermione welcomed the distraction as well. Anything to avoid thinking of Severus and her own revelations.

Only once had she considered writing to inform Severus of what she'd discovered, but there didn't seem much point. He'd clearly kept it to himself because the matter was private, though in her more gracious moments, she wondered if he'd also been trying to spare her feelings.

She was desperate to handle the situation in the most mature manner possible. The very last thing she wanted to do was remind him of how young she was, and why he'd had some of his reservations in the first place. He'd grown to care about Hermione, she knew he did, but not enough for it to matter in the end.

She stopped checking the parchment altogether, and he didn't appear to check on her, so she guessed he saw his role as complete, at least until the next time the trio landed themselves in trouble. She wondered if he'd even come then.

At least training Ron gave her an outlet and filled her days with something productive.

The only break they took from training was to visit Xenophilius Lovegood, which had been an adventure all on its own when Death Eaters had almost captured them.

Hermione was terrified for Luna, her unexpectedly loyal friend. Death Eaters had her, and they had for months. What were they doing to her? Hermione could only imagine, the dark thoughts providing not an ounce of comfort or assurance.

When they weren't training or worrying about Luna, all of them having recognized they'd never be able to rescue her and survive to finish things, they were pondering the significance of what they'd learned, primarily Harry's new obsession with the Hallows.

Hermione regretted ever deciphering the clue Dumbledore had left her in the book because it had distracted him so thoroughly from their hunt for the Horcruxes.

In the end, it was Ron who recognized their need for a diversion and helpfully supplied it in the form of Potterwatch. It was incredibly uplifting to hear updates on what the rest of the Order were doing. She'd not properly recognized how cut off they'd been this year.

"But did you hear what Fred said? He's abroad! He's still looking for the Wand, I knew it!" Harry exclaimed, a feverish light setting his face aglow the way it always did when he believed he had finally found proof to support one of his crazy schemes.

"Harry –"

"Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol –"

"HARRY, NO!" Ron screamed, lunging forward to try and clamp a hand over Harry's mouth, but he dodged and finished anyway, heedless of the danger he was bringing down on them.

"- demort's after the Elder Wand!"

Ron was up and darting forward in an instant, kicking the discarded blankets aside as he scrambled towards the tent flap. "The name's Taboo! I told you, Harry, I told you, we can't say it anymore – we've got to put the protection back around us – quickly – it's how they find –"

Hermione had barely stood, intending to help him when the arrival of several uninvited guests sounded just outside.

Fear curdled in her stomach as one said, "Come out of there with your hands up! We know you're in there! You've got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don't care who we curse!"

"You've got this?" Ron asked, nodding at Harry.

"Yes," Hermione gasped.

The word had barely left her lips when Ron ducked outside, firing a spell as he went, determined to give her time to disguise Harry before they were captured.

"R–" Hermione broke off, not wanting the Snatchers to hear his name.

"What is he think–"

Harry started to go after him, probably intending to help, but she caught his arm and aimed her wand in his face, bringing him up short as the Stinging Jinx hit him full in the face. The skin around his eyes and nose began swelling immediately against the backdrop of spells being exchanged only a few feet away as she snatched his glasses off and stuffed them in the purse she grabbed from the ground.

"There's no time to do more," she moaned, stumbling as a spell hit the tent, sending the poles collapsing and the top caving inward.

They only barely made it to the entrance before the ceiling smothered them, but others were waiting just outside to grab them.