A/N: Thank you for your patience while I adjust to being back to work. It's been a rough adjustment, as evidenced by the slow update- I meant to have this out to you a week ago- but the weekends are still good to me!


Chapter Twenty-Nine

Hermione spent the next two days alongside Severus in the lab, brewing beside him and learning the layout. The space was tight, and designed for only one brewer, so it was awkward at times; she would often find herself leaning against a shelf as he reached above her head, or dodging out of his way as he hurried past. She could tell he was frustrated, could see it in the tightness of his jaw whenever they avoided a near collision, but he never once complained.

He didn't complain about her brewing, either, which frankly surprised her. She was sure he would have wasted no time in critiquing her performance, as he had no qualms about doing so in the past, but the most he did was offer her genuine advice to help her improve. "Cut the roots length-wise for this step," he would say as he glanced over, or "Give that potion a few more stirs until the color darkens." As his advice would always garner better results, she didn't once question it.

Whereas before Severus was just as likely as her to work through a proper lunch, he now forced them both to take a break if only so that she couldn't argue against it. The moment they could safely leave the lab for twenty minutes or more, he was shuffling her into the kitchen to prepare them a quick meal. When she would argue that she was more than capable of making her own sandwich, he would wave her off and demand she sit and rest a moment. "Better yet," he said one afternoon, "it would benefit you to go out back and stretch a bit. Hunkering over a cauldron will get to your back and neck soon enough."

"I'm not going out in a blizzard," she muttered, gesturing to the window and the heavy snowfall beyond. He frowned at the glass.

"I would hardly call that a blizzard."

"Fine, would you care to join me?"

He simply turned back to the counter.

He was right, though. She woke up Saturday morning to stiff shoulders and sore forearms. A steaming hot shower reduced the pain a bit, but her hands were shaking halfway through the day. Severus had looked up just in time to see her nick herself with a knife as she was cutting the Pungous Onion needed for the Cure for Boils- which she had finally agreed to brew, once he argued his need to focus on more sensitive concoctions.

"Ouch!" She hissed, dropping the knife and shaking her wrist in the air. He quickly turned from his cauldron, grasped her hand, and held it up for him to view. "Sorry," she mumbled, flushing scarlet and staring at the floor. The sting in her finger was nothing compared to her embarrassment at making such a silly mistake. Of course this was the brew she had messed up on- the very one she had argued she could do in her sleep.

"Does it hurt?" he asked softly, pulling her around the table and taking her to the sink.

She watched him carefully as he turned on the faucet and held her hand under the running water. "Not as much as my pride," she muttered, and he huffed a laugh as he gently massaged some cleanser on her cut.

"You have been brewing with me for two and a half days. Your hands are not used to the constant ingredient prep, the stirring, and all that goes into long term potions making." He dried her hand with care, reaching for a dropper of dittany to seal the cut. He hadn't looked anywhere else but her hand, but she couldn't keep her eyes off of his face. The softness she saw in his eyes, in the slight upturn of his lips, was unlike any she had seen before; it mesmerized her. Checking for any lingering injury, he added, "I would recommend you take the rest of the day to rest."

"What?" she gasped, and his eyes finally flitted to hers. "I can't just walk away from a half-brewed potion!"

"Technically you haven't begun to brew it," he argued, nodding towards the partially prepared ingredients. "I promise you, I can whip up a cure for boils in no time. You have been more than enough help to me."

Shaking her head, she opened her mouth to argue again, but Severus pushed her chin up and closed it. The feel of his finger shocked her into silence more than the act itself, and she exhaled sharply as a lingering heat spread through her. "That's not a request. Go, complete some of that schoolwork of yours before Minerva skins me for keeping you from your studies."

When she looked at her hand- still held in his own- and noticed the continued tremor in her fingers, she sighed defeatedly. "I might as well," she grumbled, frowning in disappointment. "Will you let me know if-"

"I'll be fine, Hermione." Dropping her hand at last, he stepped back to his cauldron, waving her away. "Go. Rest. I'll see you at dinner."

With one more frown at her ruined ingredients, she shrugged and turned towards the door. "Don't be late."


Five days after the potions order was completed and collected, Severus frowned as his floo activated unexpectedly. Standing from the breakfast table, he tossed his napkin down in annoyance and muttered, "What is it now?"

The floo activated two more times before he had even crossed the hall, and when he entered his now oddly cramped living room, he stopped short at the sight of the three visitors standing in front of his fireplace. Minerva and Kingsley he was unsurprised to see, but he scowled at the sight of-

"Harry!"

Shoving past him, Hermione raced forward and threw her arms around her friend in a tight embrace, one that Potter was more than happy to return with equal ferocity. "What are you doing here?!" she exclaimed, holding him out at arms distance before pulling him close again. "Oh, I'm so happy to see you!"

"I've missed you, 'Mione," Potter told her, and Severus inwardly cringed at the nickname. Her name wasn't that taxing to say. Before the boy could say another word, he stepped further into the room.

"Potter, what the hell are you doing here?" Glaring at Minerva, who had the audacity to look shocked at his displeasure, he crossed his arms and said, "I don't recall extending an invitation."

"He's here on Ministry Business," Kingsley answered in Potter's stead. "You'll want to hear what he has to say."

"Harry," Hermione uttered, stepping back from her friend quickly enough that Severus had to brace her arms when she bumped up against him, "whose blood is that?"

For the boy's clothes were indeed bloodstained, and upon closer inspection there were dark smudges under his eyes and a haunted look on his face. Severus frowned, his concern growing. "What's happened?"

"Werewolves," was Potter's answer, his voice and expression grave. "Dozens of them, spread across the southern half of England."

Hermione's face went white, and Minerva quickly ushered her into a seat on the couch. Severus watched her momentarily before turning his attention back on Kingsley and Potter. "Explain."

The Minister stepped forward as Potter leaned against the mantle, attention focused on Hermione as he listened. "As I'm sure you know, last night was a full moon. We already had a stronger watch on Kewstoke and the surrounding areas, to offer support and protection. While much of our focus was turned on them, however, seven different large-scale werewolf attacks occurred across the country, from Bristol to London. Harry was on the scene in London when it happened."

Hermione gasped. "Harry, are you all right?" she asked hurriedly, her eyes skimming over his form. Grimly, Harry nodded.

Severus looked over at her anxious words, and when she briefly glanced up at him, he could see the worry plainly written on her face. "How many casualties?" he asked, moving behind the couch, bracing his hands behind where she was seated. A poor attempt at comfort, but one he hoped would help.

"Three aurors were killed, nine were injured." Kingsley sat heavily into the wingback chair and sighed. "We don't believe any of them contracted lycanthropy, thank Merlin, but time will tell for sure. As for civilian casualties..." He glanced at Harry, who stood straighter and picked up the story.

"London underwent three separate attacks by three groups of werewolves- nine wolves in total. It's the largest of the attacks with the most casualties, with nearly a hundred dead and twice that amount injured. From what we can tell, they were not targeting magical populations and focused solely on muggle establishments and high traffic areas, though there were still witches and wizards amongst the crowds. Obliviators have been on the scene for hours now, but there were so many people..." Rubbing a hand over his face he continued in a quiet voice, "I was part of a dispatch team to respond. It took the greater part of two hours, but we were able to down five of the nine. The other four disappeared long before sunrise."

After Harry drifted off, a dark, pained expression crossing his face that Severus recognized all too well, Kingsley spoke again. "This same scenario played out in seven different cities and towns across the lower half of England. No less than three werewolves were in each location. And of the fifteen that we managed to take down, none of them were on our registers. Not a one."

Hermione turned her head from Harry to Kingsley, hands twisting in her lap. "Were they foreign or unregistered?"

Kingsley shook his head. "As of now we aren't completely sure. It's harder to identify someone from their wolf form. Of the few that we have I.D'd, I would hazard a guess at them being foreign."

A snippet of a prior conversation flitted through Severus' mind, one he had been part of months ago. Apparently there's a branch of Welsh supporters there that are werewolves. "Did anyone speak with Lucius?"

"Should we have?" Kingsley asked, and Severus began pacing in front of the bookshelves.

"That first day I spoke to him, he mentioned a branch of supporters in Wales. He identified them as being werewolves." Halting mid step, he stared at Kingsley when he added, "He named Fenrir as his informant."

As Kingsley leaned forward and put his head in his hands, Hermione asked, "These attacks... was anyone bitten?"

"We're looking into it, but we don't believe so," her friend assured her, though Severus thought he could sound more convincing. "Our first priority was to stop the attacks themselves... now we can assess the damage."

Severus leaned against the bookshelves and crossed his arms as he stared at Potter, taking in his defeated posture, the weight of his actions rooting him in place. It was clear the previous night had done a number on the young auror, and not just physically. Something was spurring on an all too familiar guilt in the boy, and the Potions Master could relate only too well. "You managed to take down five werewolves?" he asked, probing.

The boy crossed his arms as well, staring back in challenge. "I didn't personally kill them all, but yes, my team and I did. Why?"

"I'm just surprised you had it in you," he shrugged, "considering you were so close to the Order's resident wolf."

Hermione whipped her head around at the same time as Minerva, and hissed, "Severus!"

"That is completely out of line!" snapped the Headmistress, and Severus rolled his eyes.

Potter stood up straighter, a fire lighting in his eyes and his shoulders pulled back in readied defense of his actions. "If I had been given an option to subdue, I would have," he argued. "Do you think I enjoyed killing a potential innocent? None of us did. As it was, it was kill or be killed. I didn't fancy being on the wrong end of that."

And there it is. Potter had taken a life last night, and the guilt was eating him alive. Severus saw it, etched so clearly on his countenance, in the way he held himself as if he wanted to be swallowed by the ground itself. He knew that guilt. And despite their past, despite the hatred he still felt every time he looked upon the boy, he felt the need to ease his mind of it.

Shoving off the shelves, he took a few steps closer until he was once again just behind the couch. Hermione was still glaring at him warningly, but he merely looked Potter up and down and said, "I'm impressed. You're thinking more realistically than I've ever seen you do in the past. It's about time you grew into that big head of yours."

Potter opened his mouth to snap back at him, but once the words set in, he paused. "What's your point?"

"The point is," he replied as he rested his hands once more against the back of the couch, "that against my gut instincts, I find myself actually trusting your judgement for once."

"Because we killed a bunch of werewolves?" Potter frowned, taking a step forward. "Because I spilled what could potentially be innocent blood at the first sign of danger?"

"No," he said forcefully, "because you did a proper risk assessment and chose the correct course of action." Stopping Hermione's protest with a wave of his hand, he said, "How many people could just one of those werewolves injure before you subdued it? How many could it have bitten? Killed? You took the path that ended in less bloodshed. You made the right call. I'm just glad to see you finally thinking with sense."

When Potter didn't immediately reply, only stared at him with a blank expression, Minerva spoke up. "Not that I disagree, but does this have anything to do with the situation at hand?"

"It doesn't," answered Kingsley as he looked between both the boy and Severus. "We are not here to break down the decision-making skills of my men; we are here to discuss the next course of action."

"Talk to Lucius," Severus said as he shoved off the couch, returning to his lounging position against the bookshelves. "He may know more than he admitted to me. What of the Order's role in all of this? Is there any plan of action?"

Minerva turned to him. "The Order is reaching out to the victims in the wizarding world, of which there were unfortunately several. They're offering their services in repairing damaged property, and as always they're collecting information as they are able."

Kingsley cleared his throat, and Severus looked over at him.

When he caught the Minister's eye, he saw the familiar glint of a favor about to be asked of him. "What do you need, Kingsley?" he sighed, knowing in his heart what the answer would be.

"Wolfsbane," he said simply. "Could you produce it for the Ministry? I'm tracking down a supplier of the herb as we speak."

He opened his mouth to argue the logistics of it all when Kingsley interrupted him. "Is money an issue? At this point I'll pay you double what it's worth; we need these victims on our side, need to show them that the government will give them the support they need, before they're convinced otherwise. So, could you do it?"

"That depends," he answered, glancing at Minerva. "St Mungo's has kindly requested my skills as well. I can only manage so much."

"I can help you." Hermione flushed when all eyes fell on her, but she only met his. "I have a few more days of schoolwork at most, and it isn't due until it gets picked up late this month. That leaves me with nearly two weeks of brewing time. I could work on the St Mungo's orders while you focus on the Wolfsbane."

Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That's assuming I would even have the ingredients to do so." Dropping his hands, he did some minor calculations in his head. It was possible, he supposed, to fill the next St Mungo's order whilst also brewing the Wolfsbane. Kingsley was right- the ministry needed to step forward and take control of the situation, and providing aide to the injured was a novel first step. "Get me the ingredients, and I'll see what I can do."

"I wouldn't dream of asking for more than that," the Minister replied as he stood, moving towards the fireplace. "I'll be in touch, but if we're settled, I'm needed elsewhere." Placing a hand on Potter's shoulder, he told him, "Take the rest of the day to recover. I'll see you in the morning."

"I need to get back to the school," Minerva declared as the fireplace flared green. She pulled Hermione into a tight embrace and said, "I'll see you in a few days, my dear." She moved to the fireplace, patted Potter's cheek in a sickening display of motherliness, and shot Severus a warning look before disappearing as well.

Hermione turned to her friend. "Do you have to go right away?"

Potter glanced awkwardly at Severus as he answered, "It might be for the best."

"Oh don't be so dramatic," he huffed as he made to leave the room. "Stay, go, I don't care; just be gone before dinner."


Hermione shoved Harry across the hallway shortly after Snape had made his dramatic exit, and he found himself standing in a decently sized kitchen. "Have a seat," she said as she walked towards the table, picking up the discarded breakfast plates and carrying them to the bin.

He watched her for a moment as she scraped the uneaten food off the dishes and moved to the sink, then looked around the room. "So," he said conversationally, "how's married life?"

The plates slipped from her hand and crashed into the sink. "Harry James Potter," she snapped, turning to face him, "that is inappropriate!"

Grinning at the tinge of pink on her cheeks, Harry waved off her scolding. "It's been too long since I've been able to tease you in person, I had to get a good one in while I had the chance."

"It'll be an even longer wait the next time if you don't behave," she warned, turning back to the sink. "Damn, I broke a dish. Come and fix it, Harry, since you made me do it."

If only to appease her, Harry walked over and repaired the plate with a practiced swish of his wand.

Grabbing at his clothes, she started to examine them closely. "I can get the bloodstains out if you want," she offered. "And you can shower if you want to wash off. I take it you haven't been home yet?"

Between the sweat, dirt, and blood from the fighting that night, he had to admit that a shower was awfully tempting. "Snape won't be mad?" he asked. "What if I accidentally use his soap? I don't fancy going back home smelling like Greasy-"

His words were cut off, however, by two small hands smacking him in the chest. "We are going to be nice," she threatened, waving a finger in his face, "or we are going to leave."

"Okay, okay- understood!" he exclaimed, holding his hands up in front of him. Huffing, she backed off, and he asked, "But honestly, a shower sounds brilliant. Is it really okay?"

"Of course it's okay," she muttered, scrubbing the breakfast dishes by hand. "I wouldn't have offered if it wasn't." She glanced over at him and added more kindly, "It's my shower. We don't share. If anything, you'll go home smelling like me."

Scratching his head- and grimacing at the build-up of dirt in his hair- he shrugged. "Better you than him, I suppose." When she turned from the sink and gestured to him, he followed her back out into the hall and up a flight of rather awkwardly placed stairs.

"This is not at all what I had imagined Snape's home to look like," he admitted as they reached the second floor. Looking around, he smiled. "This looks an awful lot like you, though."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she muttered as she sat on her bed. Crookshanks, sitting in an armchair in the corner as if he owned the place, glowered at him as he took in his surroundings. When he didn't say anything in response, she asked him, "What are you thinking?"

"That Snape must really like you to have gone through all this trouble." At her questioning stare, he explained, "When you told me you were going to live with him, I had imagined a cot in the corner, not a whole bedroom suite."

"I don't think I let myself imagine much before I saw it," she said, hugging a pillow. "I just remember coming up here and being blown away by it all. It really was very thoughtful to have given me so much room. Crooks is pleased, too," she told him, gesturing to her cat. "Severus gave me permission to put in a cat door and let him out into the garden."

"Well, as long as Crooks is pleased, that's all that matters," he teased, earning him a glare from the feline in question.

Hermione gestured to the door behind him. "The bathroom's through there. The towels are clean and you can use whatever soap you want. Just chuck your clothes out the door for me and I'll see what I can do about getting them clean."

With a word of thanks, he opened the door and slid inside.

"Hey Hermione, can I trade you out with Ron?" he called from inside. "This bathroom is pristine!"

"Go ahead and ask Severus that question," she shouted back. "See what he says about it!"

"Yeah that'll go over well," he chuckled to himself as he stripped and tossed his clothes out the door as requested.

His joyful mood diminished slightly as he stepped under the hot stream of water, groaning in relief as his tense muscles began to relax. His head fell forward, and as he began to rinse out his hair, he stared at the rivulets of darkened water running off of him. He hadn't realized exactly how filthy he had become, but staring down at the visual proof of his late night escapades, he couldn't help but grimace.

Finding a bar of soap, he began to scrub his arms vigorously. Small cuts reopened as he tore open their scabs in his assault, the bright droplets of blood washing away as he let the water rinse over him. Here, a scratch from the pavement as he was thrown to the ground. There, a scuff from the bark of a tree. With each exposed injury, his mind flitted back to the events that caused them, and it wasn't long before he leaned his forehead against the shower wall, fighting his racing heart.

Flashes came to him, his mind forcing him to revisit what he hadn't given himself a moment to process, giving him no option but to do so now. "Stop it," he hissed, squeezing the bar of soap a bit too hard, leaving indents where his fingers gripped. But still, the memory came.

He was running down the streets of London, forcing his way through a panicked crowd of people, when he laid eyes on the first werewolf. His team lead was shouting, gesturing as he gave instruction, though Harry could not hear him over the screaming. The wolf was weaving through the edge of the crowd; the snarls and growls as he hunted carried on the wind. Wand in hand, he raced forward towards the terrifying encounter, shoving past men and women alike in his frenzy.

When two other werewolves tore around the corner to flank the first, Harry's heart stopped.

Though much like regular wolves, these three were undeniably cursed creatures. Mercilessly they hunted, chasing after the large gatherings of people both muggle and magical, giving no preference over one or the other as they pounced, tore, and bit their way through their victims.

The wizards in their midst had their wands out, terrified looks on their faces. It was clear they understood the danger before them. The muggles were as wild as the wolves in their panic. Harry grabbed whoever he could, one after another, shoving them down the road, shouting at them to run to safety. The wolves were approaching rapidly, and ignoring the threat to his own wellbeing, he joined the wall of aurors and raised his wand alongside them.

The stinging hex he cast did nothing but glance off the wolf's shoulder, but it did distract the beast long enough to let its chosen victim grab their child and apparate away. Others weren't so lucky. Blood pooled in the streets as victim after victim was downed before them. The few spells that hit their mark only enraged the beasts, and noticing this, his auror lead started shouting orders accordingly.

"A TEAM, DISTRACT THE WOLVES! B TEAM, SHELTER THESE PEOPLE! GET THIS STREET CLEAR!"

As a member of the latter, Harry rushed to the left and shielded a near attack on a muggle male, the wolf having broken past a gap in their forces. Grabbing the man's arm, he apparated them farther down the street and shoved him forward. "RUN!" he yelled, and the man made no attempts to disobey.

A large crashing sound came from behind him and he turned in time to see an auror at the front of the lines levitating a car, dropping it immediately behind a fleeing family and just missing the head of one of the beasts. Distracted by the assault, the wolf ripped into the car's undercarriage, parts flying around him as he tore claw and teeth into his attack.

He turned his head to the left in time to see a wolf use another vehicle as a spring board, leaping over the heads of the aurors and preparing to land in the middle of a crowd. He dashed forward as the aurors cast spells at the beast's exposed belly, slicing hexes cutting down the length of its torso. Yelping in pain, the wolf flailed in the air, and it was all Harry could do to erect a shield before its body could collapse on top of a fallen woman. The wolf crashed into the shield and fell to the ground before them, twitching as the life left its human-like eyes. When the shield fell, blood coated them both.

A middle aged man ran towards them, shouting for the woman, who was clutching her leg. The moment he reached her, Harry took off, apparating close to the front of the lines and erecting shield after shield as spells ricocheted back into the quickly dispersing crowd.

Jostled by the people panicking around him, Harry was taken by surprise when a boy as tall as his waist crashed into him, knocking them both to the ground. Scrambling up before Harry could grab him, the boy shouted, "MUM! WHERE ARE YOU?!" as he dashed away, back into the crowd.

A man not much older than Harry grabbed his hand, helping him up to his feet. He held a wand in his hand and a fiece determination in his eyes. "Let me help!" he shouted, grabbing Harry's sleeve before he could leave. "What can I do?!"

Gesturing sharply towards the still fleeing crowd, he yelled, "Help them! Protect them!" The man nodded, dashing away, and Harry gave him no more thought as he reached the front of the line.

A barrier of vehicles had been crudely constructed across the street, and one of the wolves was attempting to scramble over it. Aurors spread out in front of it, shooting stunners at will- how many did it take to knock down a transformed werewolf? And where was the third?

As he glanced around them, a piercing scream rang out from a neighboring park. The aurors heads all jerked in that direction; the auror lead shouted, "POTTER! ANDREWS! GO!" and Harry took off with his teammate in the direction of the scream.

Another shrill cry led them to the center of the park, where a young woman was huddled under a playscape, the third werewolf digging at the ground in a desperate attempt to reach her. His jaws snapped at air, the shortness of his snout preventing him from reaching her as she screamed and sobbed against the wood brace she clung to.

Andrews stormed forward, shouting, "OI!" as he sent a scorching spell into the creature's flank. Distracted, the wolf whipped its head around and raised its hackles in a terrifying growl before launching towards the auror. Andrews, for his credit, dodged easily out of the way of the physical attack, sending the wolf careening across the lawn. Harry ran over to the terrorized woman still in hiding.

Crawling under the playscape, he held out his hand. "Come with me!" he shouted, and when the woman just shook her head, sobbing, he reached out and grabbed her arm, apparating her a safe distance away. "Run!" he commanded, pointing in the direction away from the other attack. "Get away from here!" She wasted no time in obeying, and neither did he, apparating back to the fight as soon as she turned from him.

The moment he rematerialized he was thrown backwards, falling to the ground so hard the air left him. Struggling to breathe, he fought against the werewolf's body as it tried to stand above him, its curled claws grazing his arm and tearing through his jacket. He scrambled to his feet, sending a tripping jinx behind him and hoping beyond hope that that spell worked on four legs as well as it did on two. When he heard a surprised yelp and thud, he turned, wand at the ready.

Andrews ran forward, breathless, blood dripping down his forehead. The werewolf's head whipped around at the sound, and he leapt to his feet, paws swiping towards the auror as a growl tore out of his throat.

"FLIPENDO!" Andrews shouted, and Harry found himself once again hit with the full weight of the wolf's body. "Look alive, Potter!" Andrews called out as Harry was thrown back into a tree, the sharp bark slicing into his skin.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow and pushing himself away from the creature. Casting another stunner on the animal before it could leap for Andrews, who was doing an incredible job at angering the beast and a terrible job at subduing it, he attracted the creature's attention long enough for the other auror to send a slicing spell into its side.

The werewolf being unable to determine the source of the injury, he snarled at Harry, and ran at him. Harry made to back away when his heel caught the edge of an upended root; stumbling backwards, he turned his body in a last minute attempt to dodge the attack and was sent sailing as the wolf's shoulder collided into him.

"POTTER!" Andrews shouted, sending stunner after stunner into the wolf's hide, but it made no difference to the angry beast now looming above him. "No," Harry whispered, giving in to a moment of panic before grasping his wand tightly and shoving it in the werewolf's throat. "Expulso!" he cried, and the wolf's throat was blasted away.

A gnashing of the wolf's teeth was all it could manage as Harry kicked its body off of him, dripping with blood and dirt and who knew what else. He was staring into the creature's eyes when the throes of death took over, and for a brief second, right before the light left it for good, Harry could see the human staring back at him.

His stomach twisted, and he barely made it to his knees before he was sick on the grass.

The soap fell from his hand, its clattering pulling him forcefully from his recollections. His breaths were coming in fast, his heart was racing, and he could feel even beyond the shower's water that tears were dripping down his face. "I killed them," he whispered, a panicked edge in his words as he fell to the floor of the shower, letting the water rain over him. Head on his knees, he hugged his legs and tried to breathe.

Who was it, the human beyond the wolf? Who had he killed? Did an innocent die last night, by his own hands? His own trembling hands, now rid of the filth that covered them, though nothing could wash away the guilt. And how could it? He had never taken a life before, not really; hell, even Voldemort had technically cast the killing curse on himself. Yet tonight he had, and he had done it without pause.

The memory of those eyes staring back at him, eyes that were so much beast until they suddenly weren't, was seared into his mind. He doubted he would ever forget them.

The water had begun to run cold, yet Harry couldn't be bothered to move. He didn't know how long he sat there. It was only when he heard a soft knocking on the door that he lifted his head.


"Harry?" Hermione called from the other side of the door, growing concerned. It had been nearly forty minutes since her friend had gotten in the shower, and while she didn't want to intrude, she was worried he had fallen asleep. Surely the hot water had run out by now?

She couldn't make out his response, but it was only a moment before the water shut off and she could hear him moving about. She stepped back as the door opened, and a towel-clad Harry gave her a guilty half-grin. "Sorry about that," he said, scratching the back of his head. "I guess I lost track of time."

His eyes were red and weary, his wet hair clinging to his forehead. "Are you all right?" she asked, and when Harry's brow furrowed, she explained, "You just look... tired."

You look like you've been crying, she'd almost said, but judging by his expression, it was not a good time to pry. His clothes were bundled in her arms, and she handed them over instead. "Well, anyway, I did my best by these, but I'm sure if you wait for Mrs Weasley to come back she could fix them up good as new."

A genuine smile crossed his face as he looked over the pile of clothes. "Thanks, 'Mione, I really appreciate this."

"Of course you do," she teased, stepping away from the bathroom. "Are you hungry?" At his noncommittal shrug, she said, "I didn't finish my breakfast so I was going to make some food. Come down to the kitchen when you're done, all right?"

When he turned and closed the door, she hesitated for a moment, nibbling her nail. But seeing as there wasn't much she could do- it wasn't like she was going to go in there and dress him herself- she turned and went downstairs.

She was pulling out some bread for sandwiches when he joined her, looking tired but refreshed. "Seriously," he told her as he leaned against the counter next to her, "this is not at all what I expected when Kingsley told me to come along. Where are the floating jars of questionable objects? Where are the dark arts posters he seemed to love so much?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, smearing spread onto a piece of bread. "He has a personality outside of his Hogwarts persona," she grumbled, giving him a reproachful look out of the corner of her eye. "As to his jars, some of them are in his lab. They're rather fascinating specimens, if you ask me, and expertly preserved-"

Grimacing, Harry made a disgusted noise. "I really don't want to know," he whined, reaching over and grabbing a slice of cheese.

"You seriously can't wait another minute?" she reprimanded as he took a bite from the slice, and he gave her another guilty grin.

"I haven't eaten since yesterday," he admitted. "I'm famished."

"Well then, take this." She handed him a plate. "Go, sit and eat. Would you care for some tea?"

A bite of sandwich already in his mouth, he nodded as he walked to the table. "Fanks again, 'Mione. 'Sgood!"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," she scolded as she set the kettle to boiling, and his grin widened.

Setting a cup of tea before him a few minutes later, she sat with her own plate of food across from him. "Well, you didn't waste any time," she joked as she stared at his near-empty plate.

"I told you, I was famished."

"Well here, have more." Dumping her sandwich on his plate, she got up to make herself another one. While I'm at it, I should make Severus one as well. He didn't eat much more than I did. "So," she said conversationally as she worked, "where was Ron during all of the excitement?"

Taking a moment to chew and swallow, Harry replied, "He was sent as back-up to one of the smaller towns, I'm not sure which. I saw him briefly in the hallway on my way to Kingsley, so I know he's all right, but I didn't get a chance to speak with him."

"Well, it's good that he's safe." Setting Severus' sandwich on the island counter, she walked back to her plate. They ate in silence for a few minutes, Harry now devouring the crisps. "I'm not going to have to make you more food, am I?" she asked, an amused smile tugging at her lips. "We only have so much, and we can't exactly leave for a shopping trip."

He shook his head, downing the last of the crisps and sitting back. "No, I think that'll be enough."

Watching him as he reached for his teacup, Hermione could see the tension behind his eyes even as he tried so hard to mask it. "Are you sure you're all right?" she asked. "What happened out there?"

Harry slowly set the teacup back down, his face troubled. "I..." shaking his head, he said quietly, "It's not something I want to talk about."

"That bad, huh?" He nodded, and she reached across the table to grab his hand. "When you are ready to talk, I'll be here."

His lips turned up in a lopsided grin as he squeezed her fingers. "Knowing where you are and being brave enough to visit are two entirely different things." At her laugh, he let out a breath. "Thank you. I'll... Maybe I'll write about it."

"Maybe I'll read about it," she replied cheekily, and was rewarded with a chuckle.

"Hey," he asked, his voice rising in his attempt to lighten the mood. "I wanted to ask you something." She nodded him on and he continued, "Christmas is coming up, and I was thinking, I bet we could make Grimmauld Place secure enough if you wanted to spend some time there. I'd love it if I got to spend Christmas with you, 'Mione, and-" At her troubled expression, he paused. "I know it's awkward with Ron right now, but I can ask him to-"

"Do not kick Ron out for me!" Hermione said firmly, then dropped her shoulders and sighed. "I don't want to disappoint you, Harry, but I can't. I'm sorry."

Instead of looking downhearted, Harry simply nodded and said, "Okay, I figured that would be your answer, so I have a follow-up offer for you."

"Harry-"

"No no, hear me out!" Sitting forward eagerly, he asked, "What about New Years? All of the Weasleys will be back, so it won't just be me and Ron. You can avoid each other much easier in a crowd, right? Plus, you'll get to see Ginny again! I promise you'll have fun. Please?"

"I..." Hermione looked around the room. "We've never discussed me leaving before. I don't know if Severus-"

"Why does he get a say?"

"Because this is his house, Harry, and he's done a lot for me to keep me safe. It's only fair he has a say in it."

Harry scratched his cheek as he considered that. "He can always come with-"

She laughed sharply. "Yeah, I'm sure he would love that."

Grinning at the image, he agreed. "Say, though, that he is fine with it. Would you come? Say you'll come. Please?"

Staring into the hopeful face of her friend, she gave it honest consideration. Did she want to be in the same house as Ron? Not really, no. But seeing Ginny again, seeing Mr and Mrs Weasley and all the others... "I do miss everyone terribly."

"Yes!" Harry shouted, and she shushed him.

"I didn't say I'd go!"

"But you're thinking about it!"

She nodded. "I am. And I will. I'm sorry, but that's the best I can give you right now."

Harry stood from his seat and tugged her up as well. "That's plenty," he told her as he pulled her into a tight embrace.

A door opened from down the hall, and Hermione gently stepped out of Harry's arms. "Severus?"

She and Harry shared an amused look when they heard his heavy sigh. He walked down the hall and leaned against the doorjamb, his arms crossed. "Yes?" he asked, glowering at Harry.

"I thought you might be hungry," she told him, gesturing to the plate behind her, "so I made you a sandwich." When he only stared, she said, "I just wanted to let you know."

He looked over to the plate in question and his expression softened. "Thank you, Hermione."

Her eyes followed his progress into the kitchen as he went to retrieve the sandwich. "I've also made tea, if you'd like."

"I'm all right," he dismissed, walking towards the hall once more. He turned before exiting, and glanced between the both of them. "If that is all?"

Snorting, she replied, "It is."

"Then I'll leave you to it." Pausing on his way out, he turned back again. "Potter."

Hermione could feel the wave of tension flowing from Harry as he responded, "Sir." Rolling her eyes, she studied Severus as he took in her friend's cleaner appearance. She couldn't decipher much from his expression, but it didn't feel negative.

He only said three words before disappearing down the hall: "You did well."

In his absence, she and Harry stared at each other in bewilderment. "Did you just get praised by Severus Snape?" she asked as a door clicked shut.

He swallowed, a nervous smile on his face. "Yeah, I think I did."


A/N 2: I do enjoy writing Harry's POV. I hope you enjoyed a bit more plot in this chapter!