Hermione pulled her cloak tighter around her, the mid-May evening air still cool enough to nip at her cheeks and numb the tips of her fingers. The Forbidden Forest felt unusually quiet against the crunch of her oxfords as she and Snape made their way back toward the castle after a lesson on invisibility charms. Even at the late hour the sun had yet to set, the trees casting long shadows in the golden light. Beside her Snape moved as silently as a wraith, his footsteps barely heard over the harsh sound of her own breath.

The evening had been a mirror image of those early days— of that time when he dragged her into the Forest on the premise of teaching her to master fear. She recalled the way she had run to keep up with him. He never once glanced back over his shoulder to check if she was following. In those days he deliberately kept her off-kilter, and Hermione forever had the feeling he would take pleasure in her failings. He didn't trust her, nor did he like her.

But slowly, like a weed, she knew she was beginning to grow on him. He still didn't like her, but he didn't detest her either.

The evidence was there in the small, subtle differences. Like how his biting comments had lost their malice. Or how he actually asked her opinion during a debate, rather than instantly dismissing her. Even now, he slowed his pace just enough to allow her to fall into step beside him. She knew he would never see her as an equal, but there was a level of respect between them that hadn't existed before.

Of course, there was a possibility his softness towards her was all in her head.

They had made a deal, and now, after every meeting Harry had with Dumbledore, she would find her way down to the dungeons to spill the secrets she had promised to keep. Her betrayal was a dirty thing crawling under her skin. It kept her awake at night, forcing her to toss and turn uncomfortably until she saw ghoulish creatures creeping in the corners of her vision.

It was at war with the satisfaction she saw burning in Snape's eyes. He was hungry for every slice of information she could provide him with, rewarding her not with praise but knowledge. His tutelage expanded to include clever spells that went far beyond anything she'd come across in her time at Hogwarts. She knew Snape was playing into the very flaws that he had called out in her detention many moons ago. He encouraged her to embrace in the quest to become something better than her peers.

Hermione knew that after all his years as a spy, Snape was a master manipulator. She wasn't the first person he had exploited for information and she doubted he would be his last.

The thing was… she didn't care.

That moment in his office when his nails dug into hers on top of his old, battered text, Snape had planted his own seedling inside her. It was dark and abrasive, and like a woollen sweater left her skin feeling raw. She knew the way Snape was perceived among the Order. The Death Eater turned spy forever kept everyone at arm's length.

Everyone but her. She had found her way in through a crack and in return he had wormed his way into her very core. His roots had grown and twisted with her own, pulling her down into his murky depths. Instead of kicking for the surface like any intelligent person would do, Hermione accepted the darkness with open arms. She wanted to know. She wanted to understand.

Severus Snape had given her a glimpse of a life that mere mortals were not privy to, and like an addict she was desperate for more.

'Out with it.'

Hermione gave him a sideways glance through a curtain of her hair. The sunset glinted off his black hair and shrouded his face in shadows. She sucked in a deep breath of air, taking in the tangy smell of earth and pines.

'Everything's changing,' she said, more to herself than to him.

Snape stayed silent beside her.

'I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's this feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach,' she continued, placing a hand on her diaphragm. 'Harry's restless. Dumbledore has promised to take him out the next time he hunts for a Horcrux. It's all he talks about now.'

He grunted and she brushed her curls over her shoulder, glancing at him openly. 'Do you think they can really be destroyed?'

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Must you ask so many questions.'

'You asked me what was on my mind,' she reminded him indignantly. 'Besides, I wouldn't have to ask so many questions if you held up your end of the bargain. You barely tell me anything.'

'Simply because there are some things which you are better off not knowing, Miss Granger.'

Her fingernails left half-crescent imprints in her palms. 'So you're deliberately keeping me in the dark.'

'Yes.'

Hermione pressed her lips together and exhaled sharply through her nose. How could one man be so infuriating? 'Why?'

'For various reasons. You must be aware of the possibility that you could one day find yourself in the hands of the Dark Lord. It's imperative that you remain as innocent as possible,' he told her, his voice cold.

She shuddered. The truth was she had considered it on more than one occasion. Ron had told her stories from the first war, about how witches and wizards were captured and tortured under the Cruciatus Curse. Snape had a point — for all her Gryffindor braveness she wasn't sure she was strong enough to go through that and maintain her secrets.

'If you think it's a possibility, then why do you still refuse to teach me Occlumency?'

He gave her a pointed look, his eyebrow raised. 'You let your temper guide you. Occlumency requires both physical and mental control of the highest standards. Something which neither you nor Potter are capable of demonstrating.'

Hermione ground her teeth together. 'I can manage my emotions just fine.'

'I disagree.'

She kicked angrily at a stone and watched it bounce down the path ahead of them, then cursed herself for her foolishness. Snape had a way of making her feel two feet tall. She was gripped with the urge to make him see that she wasn't as childish as her Gryffindor friends. She could rise above that.

'Would you like to hear my theory?' She asked.

'I daresay you'll tell me anyway.'

'I think Dumbledore's going to send Harry on a hunt for the Horcruxes. It's why he's been sharing all of the memories about You-Know-Who, isn't it?'

She expected him to dismiss her idea; to tell her that Dumbledore wouldn't possibly send a sixteen year old boy out into the world to complete such a dangerous mission. True, learning more about his enemy could help Harry in that final battle, but the moment Dumbledore actually offered Harry an opportunity to find one…

No. Dumbledore never did anything without motive. She could see that now.

When Snape didn't say anything, she offered up her other theory. The one that had begun in September and slowly festered inside her. 'Unless it's not Harry he's sending away. Unless it's you.'

That got his attention. He stopped in his tracks, and Hermione watched a breeze stir the hair around his shoulders.

'And what makes you think that,' he replied slowly.

Hermione chewed on her cheek. 'I'll admit, I can't quite make the puzzle pieces fit. Why wouldn't Dumbledore tell you about the very thing he expected you to find. Unless he was doing it to protect you.'

Ron's voice from the summer came roaring back to her. Perhaps Snape had fallen out of favour with Voldemort because he had already begun searching. Dumbledore told Harry one Horcrux had already been destroyed that past summer — the ring. What if Snape had been the one to do it?

When he remained silent she pressed on. 'Even if I'm not right…' she licked her lips, her heart thundering in her ears. 'I know you're leaving, sir.'

The muscles in his back tensed, his shoulders curling up towards his ears.

'Miss Granger—'

'You took the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. It means something, doesn't it. There were rumours the position is cursed, but they're not rumours. It's true. Harry saw it in Dumbledore's memories. Everyone who takes that position leaves. Or dies.'

Now that the words were out there in the world, they couldn't be unsaid. The tiny grain of fear had been given life. A small part of her hoped she was wrong, hoped that he would tell her she was wrong and that actually, they had found a way around the curse.

'That's enough,' he commanded.

Snape turned to face her at last, and she was once again struck by how utterly exhausted he looked. Her fingers twitched with the impulse to touch the purple hollows under his eyes. He hadn't entered her mind since that disastrous time in his classroom, but the look he gave her made her feel small and vulnerable. He appeared to be assessing her, weighing her up. She held her breath, refusing to allow even the smallest of twitches.

Despair washed over her when he ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply. The crack in his wall had widened and she was in danger of falling through. 'Not every answer must be shared with the class, Miss Granger.' He shook his head. 'Potter will begin his hunt for Horcruxes before the year is over.'

Hermione's stomach took a tumble. It wasn't the response she was expecting.

'You're sure?'

'Unfortunately. I won't tell you anything more. And if you ask me again, do not doubt that I will obliviate you within an inch of your life just to stop that insistent prattling.'

The dark look in his eyes made her heart race. He started off down the path again and she rushed to fall into step with him again. As she suspected, Dumbledore was sending Harry out into the world. The forest began to thin out around her and the shadow of the castle loomed before them.

With a lurch Hermione realised that if Harry was leaving, then her and Ron would be soon to follow.


Like half the school's population, Hermione, Harry and Ron found themselves on the lawn by the Black Lake, enjoying the sunny warm weather. She and Ron lounged on a blanket she had transfigured from her robes while Harry skipped rocks. Despite the looming exams she had chosen to leave her revision and books behind in her dorm, actively making the decision to spend as much time as possible with the boys. Snape's words loomed over her like a storm breaking on the horizon and she was desperate to cling onto every last semblance of normality while she still could.

'Is it just me, or does Malfoy look paler than usual?' Ron asked. Hermione looked away from where Crabbe and Goyle were teasing the Giant Squid to Malfoy sitting under the shade of a tree scowling.

'It must be all that time spent lurking around the dungeons. If anyone needed a suntan, it would be Draco Malfoy,' Hermione giggled, rolling a stone around in her hand. She poked it with her wand and it sprouted legs, scurrying across the blanket. Ron let out a noise she could only describe as a squeal and nearly knocked her over in an attempt to move away from it.

'Can we talk about something other than Malfoy?' Harry muttered.

'Mate, you're the one who's still convinced he's a Death Eater,' Ron pointed out. '5 knuts says you've got your map in your back pocket, ready to follow him.'

Harry aggressively threw his stone into the water with a loud splash. 'Just drop it, will you?'

Ron gave Hermione a funny look. Since the incident in the toilets Harry's obsession with stalking Malfoy had only increased. Day and night Harry poured over his father's map, watching Malfoy's every move. It was almost as if losing the Prince's textbook had created a crater in Harry's life, one which he was now plugging with his renewed efforts to prove Malfoy was up to something.

Snape's book, she reminded herself.

Harry nor Snape had requested the book back from her. As far as Harry was concerned she had hidden it away somewhere in the castle for safekeeping. What she had neglected to mention was that her version of safekeeping was to stash the book at the bottom of her trunk.

It was her new guilty pleasure. Tucked into bed with the curtains drawn around her and Crookshanks curled in her lap, she studied the notes left in the margins. She wasn't a stranger to Snape's markings. The books he lent her were often covered in them. They were insightful but clinical. Factual, rather like tiny reminders to himself.

The notes in his old potions text were far more fascinating. Ideas were expanded upon; trains of thoughts rather than bullet points. Here between the lines was evidence of his genius. Hermione would trace the letters on the page and wonder what sort of boy Snape had been. Sirius and Lupin had been quick to point out Snape's flaws: he was a Slytherin who enjoyed the Dark Arts.

She couldn't excuse him for his past. Harry had told her and Ron all about the effects of Sectumsempra and how it had literally torn Malfoy's skin to shreds. She couldn't be sure, but from the scribblings she found elsewhere there was probable that Snape had created the dark curse himself. The alarm bells should have been ringing in her head. She should have heeded Lupin's warning and stayed away.

Snape was dangerous.

But she couldn't break the spell. The image of Snape, not much older than herself, huddled on the floor clutching his newly formed Dark Mark haunted her dreams. Even now she could still feel his anguish in that moment as it sat heavy on her chest as if it were her own.

'Have you heard anything more from Dumbledore?' Ron asked, his voice low.

Harry dropped onto the blanket and shook his head. 'No. And it's not exactly like he's been around either.'

Ron's fingers played with the shadow of stubble growing along his jaw. 'I bet you parents would be absolutely fuming if they knew.'

Hermione frowned. 'What do you mean?'

'Everyone knows Dumbledore is the only one You-Know-Who fears— no offence, Harry. If he's not around, then I bet a lot of parents would question whether Hogwarts is actually safe.'

'That's silly. It's not like Dumbledore is the only one who can fight. It's public knowledge the castle is being guarded by Aurors,' she replied. 'And don't forget members of the Order.'

'You mean like Snape?' Harry spat.

'Or McGonagall,' she reminded him. 'Besides, even without those extra measures the school is heavily guarded. Voldemort wouldn't be able to just break into the castle, it doesn't work that way. I read it in—'

'Yes, yes, Hogwarts, a History. We know,' Ron teased. 'Anyway, the point is, Dumbledore should be here.'

'He's trying to find the Horcruxes. That's more important than sitting around watching school children,' Harry pushed back.

'The cup, the snake, the locket. Something from either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw,' Hermione intoned, ticking them off her fingers. 'It'll be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.'

Harry ran a hand through his hair, and Hermione's stomach fluttered at the sight of his pale hands raking through dark tresses.

'I know. But if anyone can do it, it's Dumbledore,' he told them stubbornly.

His blind adoration of Dumbledore pulled her thoughts away from a similar conversation she had with Snape in the Forbidden Forest. She bit her lip sharply, trying to stay focused on the present. 'Has Dumbledore ever given any indication as to how a Horcrux could be destroyed?'

Harry thought about it for a moment. 'No. But I destroyed Riddle's diary with a Basilisk fang. So we know that's an option.'

Ron snorted and laid back on the grass. 'Ah yes, we'll just nip down to the Chamber of Secrets again, shall we?'

Harry laughed at the absurdity and followed Ron down onto the grass.

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Ron this is serious. Harry, you've got to ask Dumbledore the next time you're with him. This could be important,' she insisted.

Harry smiled and tugged on her elbow, guiding her to lay down between him and Ron. The three of them lay shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the blue sky. The warmth of the sun caressed their faces.

'It'll be fine, Hermione,' he promised.

'Assuming we get through exams, of course,' Ron pointed out.

'Which you'll fail if you don't study,' Hermione countered.

'I've studied enough. Your colour-coded timetable has seen to that,' he jested, nudging her hip with his own. She playfully shoved him back.

The sounds of their laughter ripped a hole in her chest. Suddenly the clouds were blurry and a hard lump had formed in her throat. If Snape was right and Dumbledore was about to send them on a hunt for Voldemort's soul across the country, then everything was about to change.

'I wish we could stay just like this. No Horcruxes or war,' she whispered.

Harry squeezed her hand. 'Just one normal school year without someone trying to kill me would be nice.'

Ron snorted. 'But then you wouldn't be the boy who lived anymore.'

'No, I'd be the boy who was bloody boring.'

Hermione rested her forehead on Ron's shoulder, memorising the gentle pressure of her best friends' bodies against her own.

'Nah. Where's the fun in that? C'mon, we all know you love a bit of adventure,' Ron laughed.

'If you call having to kill a psychopath an adventure,' Hary joked darkly.

'Oh stop being so melodramatic,' Hermione groaned. 'Do you really think we'd let you face him alone?'

'But the prophecy says—'

'Stuff the prophecy,' Ron interrupted. 'She's right. It's always been the three of us. Whatever happens, we'll be right there with you.'

Hermione squeezed both of their hands fiercely. Ron was right. They would follow Harry anywhere.

Even if it meant sacrificing everything to do so.


'What's this?'

Hermione picked up the heavy text Snape had dumped on the desk in front of her.

'It would appear to be a book,' he drawled.

She hoped she would never grow out of the tingle in her fingers at the sight of new knowledge.

'Clearly. I think you're overestimating my abilities though, sir. There's no way I can get through this, my exams are in two weeks. Unless…' She couldn't help the faint smile, 'it's a parting gift.'

The sour glare he gave her was worth it.

'Hardly.'

She bit the corner of her lip, trying to contain her myth. A tendril of dread swept through her as she flipped open the book to the ageing first page. Moments in Memories.

'This, Miss Granger, is how we will protect your parents.'

Hermione swallowed thickly and closed the book with a snap, all humour gone. 'But these are memory charms. How will that protect them? I don't understand.'

'You disappoint me. A clever witch such as yourself should easily be able to surmise the task ahead.'

Panic welled up in her chest, her mind racing. 'I asked you for help.'

Snape folded his arms across his chest. 'And so you shall have it.'

'Not like this,' she pleaded, shaking her head. 'I won't obliviate my parents. There has to be another way. Why can't we just… place a Fidellius charm on them or something?'

Despite her obvious agitation he sat unmoved and emotionally closed off in front of her.

'The Fidelius charm only works on a location, not a person. To lock your parents away would be a death sentence. There is every possibility you will not survive this war.' He placed a hand on the book, millimetres away from where hers rested. 'This is the human way.'

Hermione thought of her parents on house arrest, unable to go to work, her father unable to go to band rehearsals or her mum to her knitting club.

The gaping hole in her chest was growing, burning at the edges. She pressed her fists against her eyes, angrily forcing away the tears. Snape was finally offering her a lifeline and she was too terrified to face the truth. She was sure Harry wouldn't think twice about wiping his parents' memories if it meant protecting them. Or Ron, for that matter. She knew both boys would do whatever it would take to save the ones they loved.

Hadn't she promised to follow Harry, regardless of the cost? She just hadn't realised how brutal the reality of that could be.

She dropped her hands limply into her lap and pushed her shoulders back. 'So we wipe their memories, and then what?'

Something in his eyes flickered. 'The solution is more delicate than that. A straightforward Forgetfulness Charm on a muggle would destroy them. You need only to wipe your existence from their memories. Give them new identities and send them away.'

'Away where?'

He shrugged. 'Somewhere outside of the UK. The farther the better.'

His casual approach did nothing to soothe the ragged edges of the hole in chest.

'It sounds complicated,' she commented.

'I dare say it is. But it's perfectly within your capabilities. Do you really think I would let you meddle with your parents' memories if I thought it was outside the realm of what you were capable of doing? Do not be humble at a time like this, Miss Granger.'

Hermione rubbed at the headache forming around her temples.

It wouldn't be easy — memory charms were so complex they weren't even touched upon until seventh-year, and even then it wasn't something that was openly practised. The thought of manipulating her parents' memories was horrifying. Things could go catastrophically wrong, and fast.

Her voice was raspy when she spoke. 'How can you stay so calm?'

Snape looked at her for a long moment. 'War changes your perspective. It forces you to do things outside of your comfort zone, because you must.' His lips pinched together. 'I will not lie to you: the road ahead will be long and hard. The casualties will be high before the Dark Lord can be defeated.

'You must protect Potter, and see that he only goes after the Dark Lord once he has destroyed all of the Horcruxes, and not a moment before. Do you understand?'

There was something about his words that pulled at her navel, making her eyes prickle. Although he would never say it out loud, she had the feeling that he was, in his own Snape-ish way, saying goodbye. There were only a few weeks left of term and then uncertainty.

The Hermione Granger of last year would be anxious of the unknown. But the Hermione Granger of now saw it as a storm that could be weathered.

Hermione realised then, clutching Moments in Memories to her chest, just how much the man in front of her had changed her.

After Sirius' death and her injury at the Department of Mysteries, her world had crumbled around her. And it wasn't Harry or Ron, but Snape who helped her pick up the pieces. Not with pleasantries or kind words — quite the opposite in fact. His lessons on discipline and focus would stay with her for the rest of her life. They had been ingrained in her bones. For better or worse, he had moulded her into something that was bigger and harder than the Hermione Granger she knew before. With sharper lines and thicker skin.

She gave him a firm nod. 'I understand, Professor. I promise I'll do my best to be with him until the end.'

When he said nothing further, Hermione collected her things and stood up. She paused at the door, realising it was likely the last time she would be alone with Snape. The thought left a funny sort of feeling behind her breastbone.

'You'll take care of yourself, won't you? Wherever he sends you,' she asked him tentatively.

There was a common understanding between them that by he she meant both masters.

Snape inclined his head, his eyebrow raising. 'I always do, Miss Granger.'


Author's Note:

As Marshall Mathers would say, get ready, 'cause this shit's about to get heavy.

Playlist:
Time in a Bottle, Rob Lane & Jim Croce.