Hermione was awake. Drenched. In tears. Alone.

It was dark outside. She did not know the hour or how long she slept. She had only one word on her mind.

Ron.

She wanted to be wrong about him. He could still be at home, sleeping on the sofa. His robes inside the closet, his boots on the mat, and his Auror pin in the little dish by the bathroom.

She rolled off her bed, casting Snape's velvet cape aside and instantly toppling over. She crawled to the door. Her body ached. Her legs betrayed her. She waved her hand in the air, grasping at the bronze handle.

Help me get up once more. Just more time, she begged, then wrapped her fingers around the handle.

Tensing up her body, she planted her left foot into the carpet. Shaking, she pulled herself up and leaned against the cold wooden door.

Please let me be wrong about last night.

She let her hands drag along the walls of the hallway, not caring how many frames fell to the floor as she walked.

Stumbling by the bathroom, she saw that Ron's Auror pin was gone. He had left the house that evening.

No.

Maybe the pin had dropped somewhere. His robes had to still be hanging in the closet near the front door.

She moved her bare feet faster along the carpet and into the living room. She winced, hitting her toe sharply on the baseboards.

One step at a time, she held onto the sofa to keep herself upright. The telly murmured, the face of a bald man dressed in a suit kept his voice even and firm.

The closet. She had to look into the closet.

Her arms burst open the doors. No Auror robes. No boots.

She sank to her knees and fell into the jumble of keds and slippers.

Gone. He was gone. She did it.

That crowded little alcove filled with the sounds of wails, like a dying animal's last cry for help. Her hands might as well have been covered in his blood instead of her own tears.

Gone.

Her throat dried with every inhale.

But then, a click and a tiny whistle of magic roused her. She raised her head so quickly, her neck gave a gentle snap.

"Mione?" asked the dark figure.

He's gone. Now I hear his voice out of guilt.

"Hey, hey." The figure leaned down. "You're in the way, could you-"

"Ron? Ron!"

She crushed him in her embrace and wrapped her wet face into his robes. "Oh Ron, I thought you- I thought that I-"

"Mione, uh- listen, could we do this another time? We have company and I have work tomorrow morn," he said , pulling her off and walking inside.

"You okay?"

And then, she leaned back for a moment to see Ginny, Luna, and Neville standing behind him.

"I-I didn't send a message," she said, sniffling back a wad of snot.

"What are you talking about, moonshine?" Luna hoisted her up by one arm and Neville by the other.

"The club, I-" she struggled to say. Then eventually gave up and let herself be silently led inside the room, sat on the sofa and wrapped with a warm tartan quilt.

Neville disappeared into the kitchen and the kettle whistled.

"I knew it was a mistake getting back into his cab, but I just had to find out who he really was."

"I don't think I understand," Luna said.

Hermione leaned in close. "Mr. Manden, you know, the driver. The cab?"

"A cab? Sounds mysterious." Ginny smirked, plopping down beside her. "Wish we were there instead of the palace. What a bore."

Hermione winced at contact, pulling her left arm away. It was sore. She pressed it into her chest for comfort.

"The palace?"

Luna's eyes went straight to Ginny's. "You see? I knew we shouldn't have gone without her. Now she's upset."

"You went to the Buckingham ball without me," Hermione said, startled. "When did this happen?"

"You don't remember?" Ginny said as Neville set the steaming cup of tea on the table. "We kept asking you to come 'cause Neville got us all passes from the Ministry. But you kept going on about how you don't have anything to wear and you wouldn't belong and blah, blah-"

Hermione's face scrunched up. "I wouldn't have!"

"You did!"

"We were at the Cheshire Cat Club. Then I left my purse inside our cab and went back to get it, but the driver turned out to be Snape. We went flying over the city in his cab and then snuck into the palace, and he offered me-"

She shut her mouth. Probably best not to tell them about the Silver Mask.

"-we went dancing and then, a large circle of blue flames appeared. And Ron and Neville were both there, but the…we were attacked."

"You danced with Professor Snape?" Ginny said. "Are you sure? Snape is gone-gone."

Luna hushed her and her eyes stayed wide for the duration of the story. She'd stop occasionally to put a hand to her cheek and whisper "oh my".

When the story was done, all stayed silent.

"Sounds like quite the dream," Neville said for the lot. "Are you sure you didn't eat a lot before going to bed? I get awful nightmares when I do."

"I didn't."

"Or you drank too much tea," Luna said. "Papa used to say they put Sleeping Draught in tea boxes. The TeaSnooze Conspiracy has been a great problem lately."

"I didn't drink tea!" Hermione said, loudly. "Why won't anyone listen to me? It was real, this night…or last….I don't remember when, but Snape and the cab and the ball, I saw and felt it myself."

"We are sure you did," Neville said encouragingly, "Only we were all at the palace right now and none of it happened. You must admit it was a nightmare."

"Or maybe, you are just regretting not coming out with us after all," Ginny piped in.

"And we-" Luna said, turning to Ginny. "We should have encouraged her to come. You should not have told her she looked plump in that dress at Malkins."

"'Twas a joke," Ginny said defensively. "Hermione looks awful in black."

Hermione felt herself fuming under the surface.

When Ron came back into the room, dressed in an old jumper with a stitched 'R', Ginny recounted the entire story to him. Getting exactly the kind of reaction she wanted, Ginny leaned back, relishing in her victory.

"Snape? A flying cab? Bullocks, sounds like a bloody mixup." Ron switched off the television screen. "Mum always said those Muggle televisions do more harm than good. Now you're getting nightmares."

She wanted to snap back, wanted to tell him he was wrong, but her wrist began to sting.

She made her way into the bathroom as her friends recounted the night's events and whispered amongst themselves.

Switching on the light, she rolled up her sleeve. There underneath the sweatshirt, in thick black ink was a tattoo.

Hermione blinked once. Twice.

A giant skull and from its mouth, a snake slithered out.

No, this couldn't be happening.

She summoned her wand and began to cast Evanesco.

The magic flowed over the ink, not even scratching the surface of the Dark Mark.

She opened the cabinets, grabbed a sponge and rubbed it, heavy-duty side down, on the bar of soap. She turned the water to the hottest setting and scrubbed.

Then rinsing, she looked at the red skin. The black shapes stayed there.

She could not show anyone. Not until she found a way to rid herself of it.

She scrubbed again, rinsed again. Did it until she could not feel her left forearm but the tattoo would not budge.

Shutting off the lights, she crept back into the living room, standing long enough at the entry to hear Ginny whisper,

"Don't know what's gotten into her. It's like she's looking for a bit of attention."

"But we're always paying attention to her!" Ron replied.

"She'll come around," Luna whispered back. "Just be gentler with her, will you Ron? She's trying to find herself."

"I'm trying!" Ron's voice said a touch louder than the others. "But you know how impressionable she is."

"I know."

When they saw her, they instantly hushed, and then, gave her a look of lasting pity.


Luna came to visit often, each time with a zucchini stew of a freshly-baked tray of muffins. They would sit and talk for hours on the sofa, drinking valerian tea.

Luna told her about dreams, how they could fog the memory all while brushing her hair. She sighed as she did, as though Hermione was a little girl in need of consolation for her very childish problems. Though she was trying to help, Hermione could not help but associate this hair brushing ritual with an act of pity.

Ginny helped too, in her own way. She apologized sourly, and Hermione figured it was only because Luna asked her to. She invited her once to visit her and Harry, but sensing that Hermione had as much interest in talking to her about Quidditch and housekeeping as cutting her fingernails, the visit ended very quickly.

Dinners with Ron had become more frequent. His attempts at cheering her up became weekly orders of her favorite fish and chips and trips to the London Museum. He didn't bring up visits with his mum nor did he talk so much about work.

Nobody spoke of Snape. She was sure they did in hushed whispers when she wasn't around, but never to her.

She desperately wanted to talk to someone who would listen to her story.

The first night she came home, she tucked Snape's velvet cape into her roomy, enchanted bag. She wrote down everything she witnessed into a new notebook and having filled at least fifty pages, tucked it into the bag as well and stowed it under her bed.

Every night after, when Ron was asleep, she would take the bag out and touch the cape and add to the book. It reminded her that it was real, and she was right. She considered getting rid of it, accepting her life as it was, but every time she had the chance, her hand would not lift to burn the items.

Sometimes, she would wake in the middle of the night to an awful nightmare, one of Ron lying on the floor - unbreathing. She would gently put her fingers on his neck, feeling his heartbeat pulsing.

Other than that, her life had become exactly as she wanted. Only she was the one who had outgrown it.


One morning, Hermione made her usual coffee. She sipped it, walking around the flat and Levitating socks into the hamper. She hated the quiet these days. She turned on the radio, and to her surprise, a Eurobeat song played. Instead of turning it off, she paused and then decided to let it play on.

Hermione prepared a load of laundry, which is what a gainfully unemployed woman such as herself would do when her phone beeped.

How strange? Her mom had just called her, and Ron was at work. That left only one other number.

She opened the screen, two messages in her inbox and both from Harry.

{ Call me }

{ Urgent }

Apparently it was since he was using Muggle technology in the middle of his magical working day. She clicked his number.

The phone rang twice and then Harry's voice came from the receiving end.

"Mione, I couldn't tell you yesterday with Ginny home."

"Right," Hermione said, phone tucked between shoulder and ear. She tossed a few pairs of pants into the tub of the washer. "What is it?"

"You wouldn't believe who I saw on Saturday."

"Who?" Hermione began to pour detergent into a tiny cup, eyes focused on meeting the line for a light load.

"Snape," Harry said, the sudden pop of the letter 'p' on the other end sounded very crisp despite the honking traffic.

" Professor Snape? Shit-" Hermione said, using her finger to wipe a giant spill of blue detergent off the floor.

"Last night, I'd been at the pub with the Aurors. You know,The Black Dog. Great special on chips and half-off pints, you should come next time. Anyways, I called for another Guinness on tap. I said, 'Marty another for the boys on me'. You know, cause last time Phil paid and-"

"-Harry-"

"Right? I asked Marty for a round on me. Marty is- well, you know Marty, the guy whose wife works for the Prophet?"

"-get to the point!"

"Sorry. So, I said that. Only it wasn't Marty behind the stand. This man had dark shades in the middle of the day and his collar pulled up. Bloody weird, I thought. But he's giving me my beer so why the hell not? Who am I to judge? And when he pulled down the tap and his shirt sleeve rose up, I could see his…tattoo."

Hermione shuddered. She remembered the way Snape dressed that day in the cab. This could not have been a coincidence, could it? "You're really sure?"

"Cross my eyes, err- heart."

"Meet me at the Black Dog at five today."

"You think it might have been him?"

"I don't know. But we're about to find out."

She needed to get to the bottom of this. Why was Severus Snape back in London and why had he visited the two of them?


When Harry had Apparated to the Black Dog, Hermione was waiting on him with her book and expanding bag. The tea she'd ordered lay cold in the mug beside her. When he came in, she threw her arms around him and pressed him close.

"Blimey, you know you can't still get an Outstanding for research?" Harry said, returning the hug.

He settled into the adjacent seat, but not before he'd scanned the bar for his mysterious bartender. "Gods, you think it was really Snape ? I've been going mad thinking about it."

"He's not there, I've been sitting here since morning."

"You know, you're going to draw attention drinking tea at five in the evening at a bar-"

"Shush and look closely." There was no telling what sorts of wizards may be in the Muggle pub after hours.

"I've mapped out the exact timeline between when we'd last seen him before his death and now the two instances he'd been in London. Here are all the numbers for the pubs that we can call. And if we take the description you gave me, we can describe him to the staff."

"Mione, listen," Harry said, but a cellphone was thrust into his hands.

"I bought the cheapest one I could so we could save some time."

"I don't think we should-"

"Of course we should! If you told me sooner, we would have been ahead. No use talking now, let's get to work."

"I just don't think Snape wants us to find him again," Harry said nervously.

"Then why did he reveal himself to me? To you?"

"Maybe he just wanted to check up on his old students. You know, keep tabs? The man was just curious."

"But don't you want to know what really happened?" Hermione cried. "Why did you tell me all this if you didn't mean to look for him-"

"Because I didn't want you to feel so alone." Harry leaned in, hands on the table. "Mione, we all love you. Ginny loves you, too, only she's too stubborn to make up. And blimey, I hate seeing the two of you losing touch over some made up story."

"It was…not…a made up story!"

"Come on, you're willing to give up all of us for Snape?"

"Yes!"

She said the words and then watched as the blank look turned to a knowing one on his face.

"It's been years. I've forgiven Snape for what he's done. Why bring up the past? The bloke deserves a break. He doesn't even associate with his name anymore. Works all over the place. Man with no home. Is that what you want to be?"

"I don't think I have a home," Hermione said. She could feel herself on the verge of bursting. Instead, she slammed her hands on the table. "You are just like Ron. You don't listen to me! I've been telling you the truth and nobody will listen!"

With that, she gathered her items in her bag and prepared to Apparate home. She stopped at the pub door for long enough to take three slow breaths and circle back inside. She was not about to lose the only other male friend she had.

"I'm sorry Harry. I know it sounds positively mad, but I know what I saw that night. There's something awful that I've done and if I don't fix it, if I don't find Professor Snape again, I don't think I'll ever be able to look into your eyes honestly."

She wiped a hot tear from her eye.

"Mione you're my best friend. And you are the most brilliant girl I've ever met. Besides Ginny. You will always mean something to me. And just to make it clear, there is nothing you could could do to any of us to change that," Harry said with a smile, wrapping his arms around her.

She returned the hug, digging her nose into his familiar jumper. For a moment, it felt like the Dark Mark was no longer there. Like she hadn't hurt Neville. Like she hadn't killed Ron.

"You think?"

"I know so." He paused for a moment, stroking her hair. "Let's Apparate you home."


No sooner did their feet hit the street before the flat, did they see Ron stumble down its front steps. His eyes were wide and empty as though he forgot where he was.

"Ron?" Harry knelt down slowly and then started to shake his friend by the shoulders. "Ron! Hermione… let's get him inside."

Hermione cast one of her Levitating spells and the ginger floated back through the door and settled swiftly on the sofa.

When Ron finally woke up it was half past ten. Harry had sent a Patronus to his wife and Hermione was looking through an old potions book.

"It-t was…it-" he stuttered.

"Who? Who was it, Ron?"

"It-t was t-the old b-bat." Ron finally managed to say. "S-Snape."

"What was Professor Snape doing at the flat?" Hermione asked. Ron only pointed to a package lying on the doorstep.

It was a large package, wrapped in black gossamer. Unwrapping it, Hermione found the Silver Mask.

Breathless, she clutched it to her chest. She was right. She was right!

Tucking it into her side, she walked out, ignoring Ron and Harry.

"Mione, where are you going?" Harry yelled after her.

"I'm going to make things right."

Then she ran, closing her eyes and vanishing into a swirl of smoke.


When she opened her eyes, she stood at the dark intersection, blocks away from the Cheshire Cat Club.

The February wind crawled up her jeans. She kept the package tight against her chest.

He had to be here. This was a sign, a message. Rounding the corner, she found the bench. Above it, a streetlight.

There Snape was, leaning against his cab. His figure was tall and lean, his hair tied back and draping over his shoulder like a serpent.

She swallowed, hard.

He did not show that he noticed her at first. He stood, a small blue flame licking his hands. It went over and under his fingers like a tiny toy ball.

She came closer, then closer still. Only when she had come very close did she notice that his face was no longer a pleasant warm tone. It was sharp and hard, like roughly chiseled clay. He opened his mouth, his teeth glimmering against his lips.

"Miss Granger." It was a voice that ran up her spine line a staircase.

"Professor," she said.

"Good evening," he replied in a slow and controlled tone. "What brings you here?"

She took out the mask, and to make her point clear, tossed it before him. He looked over lazily, the flame still playing in his hand.

"You gave me a mask-" she said.

"Did I?" His tone, was one of playful confusion.

"You did."

"What I gave you was a choice. You accepted it."

"Because you tempted me to," she cried out. "And now, look at me. Look at my arm."

She rolled back her sleeve to show him the inked snake tattoo. "How am I supposed to explain this to Ron? To Ginny and Luna and Harry? I've been living in fear of having one of them see it."

"Oh, do not go into hysterics," Snape said dryly. "I have the very same one."

He lifted his own sleeve. His Dark Mark was burnt sinfully deeply into his skin. Compared to her lightly engraved one, his carried all the weight of a well-worn life of evil misdoing.

"Let me make something very clear," he said. "I offered you to leave my cab, correct? I offered you a way back home at the palace. Correct? I warned you about the mask, about its ways."

"But-" she stuttered. "It's not fair. I didn't know the outcome! I would have never chosen if I knew the outcome."

"And what of it? Did you not receive the attention you so desired."

"Everyone pities me," she said quietly. "They don't say it, but I know they do. Poor Hermione. Poor girl with nightmares and delusions."

"No wish is perfect," he said with no remorse in his tone.

"You've tricked me. This was your fault."

"No, Miss Granger," he said sweetly. "You have allowed yourself to be tricked."

She did, and she stood there, unable to reply.

"Don't we always find excuses to justify what we really want?" Snape said. "Did you not, for one second, want to feel the full potential of your power?"

"In the end…I think that what I wanted most was to feel something," she said finally.

"Do you feel?"

She nodded.

"Then my work here is done. " He tossed the blue flame up one last time and then crushed it between his gloved fingers.

"I don't know where else to go. Don't know what else to do." She looked up at him.

"You are a very clever young witch. You will figure it out."

"Not when it comes to Dark Magic. Can I come with you?"

"My route is not easy."

He clicked the car keys, the cab blinked his eyes back at him. "Make a wise choice, Miss Granger. You know the price of my offers."

She looked behind her. Pity and safety lay at her flat. Freedom and uncertainty were with him. She still had a chance to return. She also had a chance to learn about darkness. She did look good in black.

The snow swirled before her feet. She pulled her sleeve down. The cab's engine turned on. She took one final breath and made her choice.