Ch 5

"Curiouser and curiouser!"

Hermione's POV

Hermione Granger was curled up on a couch in the dark and dreary living room of 12 Grimmauld. She was wearing a sweater and even had a knitted blanket draped over her legs, yet she couldn't fight the chill. As she turned another page of her book she couldn't help but let her eyes wander to the clock across the room. 7:13. Only five minutes had passed since the last time she had checked. She signed and looked back down to her book. Though the story was interesting she just couldn't seem to concentrate. And it wasn't just because of the number of people coming and going and stomping around. With her position on the couch, most people who passed from behind couldn't see her over the top. Not even her brown curls stood out from behind the black couch. She was left mostly to herself and her own devices. And normally she would be thrilled to be left alone to read. Finally a moment to herself. But right now her thoughts were louder than the words on the page.

Growing up Hermione loved to read books. She still did. But ever since she found out she was a witch her interests turned more towards magical theory. But when she was a kid she loved to read fantasy books. Books that detailed amazing adventures to far-off lands. Her favourite was always Alice in Wonderland.

She was so happy when she found a copy hidden in the depths of her bag. It had been several years since she last read it. She immediately cracked it open to reread it. But now as she reread, the story wasn't as fun as it once seemed. Now it seemed terrifying to be stuck in a world with no clue on how to escape. Hermione knew that all too well. Ever since she entered the magical world for the first time when she was eleven her entire world has turned into a Wonderland. But now her own magical world had turned into a nightmare she couldn't seem to escape.

The Adventures in Wonderland was still better than the picture the Prophet is painting. She didn't care for the Prophet. It was clear by her previous experience that they wrote rubbish and sensationalised trivial information. But since the Death Eaters had successfully pulled a coup at the Ministry, it was running nothing but propaganda and lies. If you wanted the truth the Quibbler was where it was at.

She had already read the article earlier but the words had left everyone in a tizzy. She could see over the top of her book as Lupin, Kingsley and Tonks gathered in the kitchen going over what it meant. Their worried looks and hushed whispers when they noticed she could overhear them were discouraging. It didn't help that the words on the paper were still pretty tame and sparse in comparison to the reports Professor Snape gave her.

The world had gone mad ever since Dumbledore was killed.

The air has become denser and the sky has darkened. The air was thick with magic and tension even in the muggle world. Panic and fear spread like a breeze in the air. Not knowing who to trust. Terrified if you say the wrong thing you will be killed and your family will suffer. Anytime you step out the door could be your last. People are leaving the country and going into hiding but most people don't want to abandon what's left of their home. It felt like a polar night where the sun doesn't rise for days on end.

The leader of the light is gone and people are starting to lose hope. The Death Eaters are acting as if they have already won. They might as well as in their eyes. They already have control of the Ministry. And on top of all that, Voldemort is immortal courtesy of his Horcruxes. A rare piece of magic that until a few months ago Hermione had never heard of. And that is impressive considering the number of books she has read.

The only hope left for the Wizarding World is that the Order is still fighting and Harry is still alive. There is a way to destroy the Horcruxes. Which is the task left to her, Harry and Ron.

Despite having complete access to the Black's family extensive collection of books on the dark arts,

if she didn't borrow Dumbledore's books then she would have nothing. She, Harry, and Ron have made progress and now understand what exactly a Horcrux was and how to destroy one.

But all they could do was plan and wait. And try to pretend as though they weren't scheming behind everyone's back. Hermione didn't understand why Dumbledore only wanted the three of them to know about the Horcruxes. But lately, she has started to understand the need for secrecy more than ever.

She didn't get much sleep last night. She was with Professor Snape until around three in the morning.

She wasn't exactly sure what she expected when she agreed to work with him. Hell, she wasn't even sure why she agreed to go along with Dumbledore's plan in the first place. It was insane, to begin with. She could see how Dumbledore was using his immediate death as an opportunity. And it did put Professor Snape in a once-in-a-lifetime position within Voldemort's good graces. But she didn't think she was the best person for the job. But it was clear when she sat in Dumbledore's office it was either her or nobody. And if she refused, Professor Snape would have obliviated her memory.

For two weeks Hermione was plagued with guilt and anxiety as she waited for the day Professor Snape killed Dumbledore. She had to sit in his class and pretend like everything was okay. She had never felt more alone in her life. Dumbledore summoned her to his office two more times before his death. To talk to her and go over the plan and her role. But he also provided her with a safe place to discuss her feelings and not have to hide. It never made her feel better. It must have been worse for Professor Snape. He knew for months what was coming. And had to carry that responsibility. It wasn't fair to him. But he always said that life wasn't fair.

She doesn't regret her decision. But she knew that if it ever got out others would question it. Especially Harry. God, Harry. It was his reaction she was scared of the most. She was there when he came into the infirmary telling everyone that Dumbledore was dead and that Snape did it. She was there as he cried on her shoulder blaming himself for what happened. She told Harry point blank that no one could have seen what was about to happen. And no one could have stopped it. She lied to him.

She was beginning to get good at lying. Though Professor Snape would probably disagree. He was a master liar though.

Severus Snape has always been an enigma. Hermione could honestly say that she has never met anyone quite like him. He was no doubt mysterious. And most of the time it was impossible to be able to guess what he was thinking. The only emotions he allowed people to see were anger and resentment. He shielded himself from the world. He was very focused and stubborn. He was not a pleasant man and could be extremely standoffish and set in his ways. He was cold and distant. He wasn't the best when it came to talking. He was rude and mean. Sarcastic and snarky. He much preferred the silence.

His appearance didn't help. He was a tall, thin man with sallow skin, a large, hooked nose, and yellow, uneven teeth. He has shoulder-length, greasy black hair and cold, black eyes. His sneer and dark wardrobe acted as a warning sign saying "beware danger awaits ahead if you approach". She never noticed before but there were scars on his hands. They were small and faded as though from little nicks. He never rolled up his sleeves. She wondered how they didn't fall into his potions. She figured he never rolled them up because he didn't want anyone to see the dark mark. And though that was probably true while he was in the classroom. But while he was with her, she wondered if it was because he was hiding more than just the dark mark underneath his robes.

He was not at all how she first perceived him. He completely defied and rewrote her expectations. There was more to him than met the eye. It was something unnameable. He was always four steps ahead and was calculating every step he took. He lived within very tight confines; emotionally and physically. It seemed that he lived a solitary kind of life. A lonely one. He held a responsibility that she never understood before. He was completely and utterly loyal.

Despite how over the years people doubted him and questioned his loyalties. Even before he killed Dumbledore, Harry and Ron always thought he was up to no good. If only they knew the truth.

It was strange how easy it was to keep the secret from her friends. She figured it would be hard. But everyone was consumed by so much she didn't exactly blame them for not noticing how she would sometimes hold back information. But it was difficult to straight-up lie to their faces every time she had to leave headquarters. It was hard to keep her stories straight every time she had to come up with excuses. Her most common one of going to get groceries and potion ingredients has long since run out. The Order was stocked with enough food for a year and held more potions than even St. Mungo's could be needed. She was currently using the line that she was taking a bath and she didn't want to be disturbed. She didn't know how much longer she could use it. If she had to be gone for longer than an hour she would have a problem. If someone got concerned and knocked on the door only to find she wasn't there, there would be a manhunt for her and she would have a lot of explaining to do.

Thankfully he usually summoned her in the middle of the night while everyone was sleeping. She was also lucky that she had her own bedroom. She usually shared one with Ginny but since she was still at Hogwarts, for now, Hermione was alone.

Well not entirely.

When she woke up in Snape's bed, she was initially embarrassed by the way she lost control. She timidly exited his bedroom and entered his private lab, tugging on the ends of her sleeves.

He was sitting at one of the benches. His back was turned to her. He heard the door as it clicked shut but he never turned to look at her.

She hesitantly walked towards him. "What time is it?"

"You were asleep for two hours." So It was 3:30 in the morning. "Would you care for some tea?" They both knew that she had lingered for far too long and that her disappearance could be noticed, but right now the Order was the last thing on their minds.

"Sure." She sat down on the stool beside him and watched as he began pouring her a cup. She didn't care for the taste but she appreciated the feeling of warmth in her hands. And the way her eyes could follow the steam as it raised into the air. She took a few sips after blowing on it gently. He had his own cup but he didn't hold it in his hands like she did. He was overlooking some pieces of parchments. She instantly recognized her handwriting and quickly tore her eyes away from it. Instead she let her eye trail up along his face. His expression, like usual, was dispassionate. She sat awkwardly in the silence before giving in the temptation to speak. "I'm sorry for earlier…" her voice trailed off. Did she really need to explain what she was sorry for?

"You do not need to apologise." It was strange for him to be so passive on a subject that would warrant his criticism. Her behaviour wasn't appropriate, after all. But in a way he was right. She didn't really need to apologise for feeling overwhelmed and expressing her emotional turmoil. Though it wasn't in her usual preferred method. Nonetheless there was one thing she should apologise for. "I should have never asked you to do that. It was unfair to you."

"We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to." He gave her the option, though it was clear that he didn't want to discuss the matter. And that was fine by her.

She took another sip of her tea and swirled the rest of what was left in her cup. She wondered what Trewlanny would say her future held. Or what the fraud of a seer would say. She never felt like she understood the man beside her more than she did at this moment. If what she felt that night was just a fraction of the emotions going on in his head. Then it was a miracle that he was still alive and mostly sane. He has endured so much. And will continue to endure more before this war is over. "Does it ever get better?"

He turned to look at her. There was a softness to his eyes that she never saw before. It was a strange contrast from their usual sharp and piercing features. "Some days. Some are worse." He hesitated for a moment as he breathed out "Today was worse for you."

He wasn't an optimistic man and he wasn't known for his reassurance. He was known for his harsh truths. But his next words helped ease her mind. "But tomorrow might be better."

It was strange being emotionally vulnerable in front of that man. She always tried her best to prove that she was strong enough and confident in her work. It was intimidating but she felt better after talking with him. In that moment there was no lies, no deception, and no false reassurance. In a way that was how most of their conversations went within those four walls. It was different then how she interacted with Harry and Ron.

Harry had been a mess when he first arrived at Grimmauld Place. Harry had a big heart. But he always blamed himself for even the littlest of things. He believed that the war was all his fault. When it isn't. This war should have been finished sixteen years earlier by adults and now it is their children who had to finish it. On the first night after he arrived, the three of them were huddled in the library to discuss their plan of action. Harry had a mopey look on his face and even before he opened his mouth to speak. Hermione sat up straighter, narrowed her eyes and smacked him on the back of the head.

"Owww, Bloody hell Mione." He glared at her briefly after wincing in pain. "What was that for?" He asked while turning to Ron for help.

Ron shrugged. "Don't look at me mate. If she didn't do it I would."

"You don't even know what I was about to say," Harry defended.

Hermione huffed at that and crossed her arms. "Really so you weren't going to say you were sorry that you dragged us into this."

"Which you didn't," Ron added.

"That all of this, the war and Voldemort is your fault," Hermione continued.

"Which it isn't." Harry kept looking back and forth not knowing which one to look at before settling on Hermione.

"And that you weren't going to apologise." She arched her brow and gave him an appointed and slightly smug look. "Am I close?"

He looked a little abashed and kept diverting his eyes. "It may have been along those lines," he muttered.

"She's always spot on." Ron was clearly enjoying her being upset at someone other than him.

"If we wanted to walk away we would have done that a long time ago. So get your head out of the gutter cause you are stuck with us."

Harry had always been like a little brother to Hermione. The one she always had to look out for and take care of. Make sure he is sleeping well, eating enough and studying and paying attention when he needs to. She often worried that she acted more like a mother to him than a friend or sister. But she was always pleasantly surprised when she was alone and he would walk up to her and sit down. He would be quiet for a moment but when he spoke he would release his darkest fears and insecurities. He would ask her for her opinion and always felt comfortable being emotional with her. And she could do the same with him. Together they would spend hours either talking on a couch or roaming throughout the grounds of Hogwarts having some deep conversations that would often end with them falling asleep with one of their heads on the other's shoulders. When the two of them talked there was often no anger or resentment. They would listen to one another while at the same time effectively calling out each other's bullshit. That's why it was so hard to lie to him. Harry could turn into such a mother hen sometimes and she truly appreciated the way he cared. But sometimes that boy was like a dog with a bone. If there was a mystery he just had to solve it. Sometimes she wished he would act a little more like Ron who knew to leave her alone when she needed space.

Ron seemed to be in relevantly good spirits. But that could have been because he was surrounded by his family. Or he was just keeping up appearances in order not to worry his mother and Harry, for that matter. Molly Weasley was a master at many things. She had to be as a mother of seven children. But she was not good at hiding her emotions. And no one wanted to upset her more. Ron had truly been a good rock for everyone. With Harry, Ron was able to get him out of his head and distract him. He helped Harry have fun and let go. They often played chess together and played around. Hermione wasn't exactly sure what the two of them talked about when they were alone. But sometimes she would catch them giving each other a knowing look after she said or did something. It was nice to know that they cared though she wasn't exactly pleased about them talking about their concerns for her behind her back.

Hermione and Ron had an interesting friendship and a much more complicated one. People were always concerned and worried by the way the two of them fought constantly. But to them it was different. Both of them had completely different personalities and sometimes it was hard to understand one another. And so they expressed themselves to each other verbally and often very loudly. Especially when they don't agree with one another. To them, it wasn't really a problem. They both felt comfortable and trusted one another to express themselves even negatively without judgement and without reflecting their true feelings. Hermione knew that if one day she and Ron fought with one another like cats and dogs, the next he would still be her best friend. It was odd but it worked. And right now with the war and with tensions high, sometimes they needed that outlet. So whenever it got too much and Ron needed time and space to not be the emotional support for everyone he could let off steam with her. Harry understood this dynamic quite well. It was why he often never got involved unless wands were being drawn. He was never truly worried that their friendship could come to an end. Sometimes she and Ron would bicker over something stupid just to make Harry laugh and be amused. There was also an understanding that no matter what they were going through they would both easily drop everything to help Harry. But they keep that a secret from him.

Together the three of them could talk freely. There was undoubtedly a bond between them that started in their first year and strengthened over the years. Their trust in one another was second nature. She was so glad they were all there together. She honestly thought she would have gone mad without them. Some people didn't understand her friendship with them. But they all had this effect on each other. It was as if a table only had three legs. You take one away and the whole thing falls down.

And yet Hermione kept secrets from them. Just as they kept a secret from the Order.

All of these secrets were beginning to have a toll on her. She wasn't exactly sure which one was the cause of her stress. She was quite impressed with herself for lasting as long as she had without breaking under the pressure. In the dead of night when everyone was asleep, the three of them were awake. Planning and conducting research. Based on the memories Harry had seen and his conversations with Dumbledore they believe they had figured out what the other Horcruxes were. Two were already destroyed, so that made things slightly easier. Slightly, though; that didn't really solve their current problem.

Slytherin's locket was currently in their possession, but they had yet to find a way to destroy it. Nagini was one but it would be impossible to go for her and not Voldemort at the same time. She will have to be the last destroyed. They believe that Hufflepuffs cup is one as well. Though they weren't sure where it could possibly be. Though she had her suspicions. With Voldemort's obsession with Hogwarts and his inclination to the houses. They suspected that the last one was associated with either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Harry and Ron were convinced that it was most likely Gryffindor. Though they know it isn't Gryffindor's sword. They figured that he would have turned one of his relics into a Horcrux to make a mockery of the house, but Hermione wasn't convinced. She was more inclined to believe it was associated with Ravenclaw. But either way, most of their planning consisted of researching the Hogwarts founders and their history. It was hard to pinpoint what historical artefacts associated with their names could be a Horcrux.

And then it was just him. A lone, mortal man. Just protected by dark magical powers and hundreds of Death Eaters.

Piece of cake, Hermione thought wryly as she bit her lip and twirled one of her curls around her finger. Though it quickly got caught on her finger and no doubtedly got more tangled than it already was.

She found herself quite comfortable in her working routine with Snape. It wasn't exactly her preferred method, no doubt not his either, but they made it work. Slowly at first. It was touch and go for a while. But it works. Similar in the way she, Harry and Ron had conflicting personalities and yet they still managed to work together. It was a nice change of pace working with someone so intelligent. She never felt the need to simplify her words or recount them. In fact, in some cases, she was the one who asked him to reiterate. He was like a flame. Her eyes couldn't help but slide to him when he entered a room. His presence demanded to be seen. He had a darkness that trailed behind him wherever he went. But she didn't feel like she was in any danger. Quite the opposite really. She felt as if she was cloaked in protection.

She noticed that his sneer was often at times directed towards others rather than at her. He sneered when he was annoyed rather than when he was angry. He did tend to glare at her. But it wasn't harsh. She noticed that he smirked more than she first thought. She never really saw him smile but sometimes his eyes did light up. He was extremely passionate about potions. She always focused on the fact that he hated children and always sought to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to notice. He loved brewing, he just hated having to teach it. It was clearly a waste of his talents.

He liked being set in his routine. She wasn't sure what he did in his spare time or when he worked alone. Or how he acted normally. But one thing she knew for sure was he did not like people. And he didn't like to accommodate others. But he was adaptable and built a new routine. One that now included her.

He began to summon her in the middle of the night and he never wasted her time by having meaningless conversations. He was consistent in the way he constantly addressed her as Miss Granger. It wasn't used as a term of respect but he wasn't rude in his delivery either. He set aside a section of his lab for her. She had her own bench and chalkboard that only she used. It was on the opposite side of the lab where he did most of his brewing. Though it was highly likely that he did so to keep his distance from her. When he did have to come close to her he always stood and hovered over her left shoulder. It took her a while to realise that she often pulled her hair to her right side. He stood over her left since even though he could probably see over her head her left side was unobstructed. When she ended up helping him brew he would grab the ingredients off the top shelf and leave it on the counter. He did not need them but did it since he knew she wouldn't be able to reach without magic. He was kind in a simplistic way one would never expect behind his sharp and rigid exterior.

One day she ended up apologising for something trivial. Hermione saw the way he was confused and slightly pink in the cheeks as he stammered through a reply. It was then that she was aware he has never really been apologised to. It made her angry. How could she possibly be the only person that saw the good in him? Despite his apparent selfish nature, he was the most selfless man she had ever met. Everyone has always said that the man before her had no redeeming qualities. But to her, he never needed redeeming in the first place. He was flawed, and broken and yet still so strong. He was brave, though he would probably be insulted if she associated him with Gryffindor traits.

He expected the worst from the world. And it was clear that was all he had ever gotten. But somehow he didn't turn out so bad. For the most part, he was calm and collected. Nor had he gone mad and gone on a killing spree. He was self-aware of his flaws. His social skills were abysmal. So he mostly kept to himself. His sarcasm when not on the darker side, she found to be quite humorous. He made her laugh.

"How much coffee is poisonous?" Hermione asked. She looked at Professor Snape, noticing his lack of attempt to respond. "I am asking for myself. I am slightly concerned."

"As you should be," he drawled. He barely even glanced her way.

"I think I have a problem," she sighed as she poured a hefty amount of sugar into her coffee. This was the second one she has had in his presence. Though she already had two cups throughout the day.

"More than one from where I'm standing." He was sitting and his face was mostly hidden behind the newspaper he was reading.

"Rude."

"But not untrue." His voice came out as a drawl. He lowered his paper and looked at her intently. "I am not the one currently drinking coffee as if it is water."

"Hey, I could always leave, you know." She wasn't doing anything she couldn't do back at headquarters. But she preferred the silence and the non-questioning atmosphere that he provided.

"Yes, I am sure you would prefer the company of the over watchful Molly Weasley instead of haranguing me."

"I don't harangue." She pointed at him in indignation. "I give constructive criticism. And I may make a suggestion here and there."

He half scoffed and half laughed. "Well here is a suggestion. You're cut off from coffee." He reached over and grabbed her mug and he took a sip. He placed it on the other side of him. Far out of her reach.

She knew it was probably for the best to cut her off. But at the same time, she was a little upset that he would take it from her. "I didn't think you liked coffee."

"What gave you that idea?" He asked with an arched brow.

"I have never seen you drink it." Now that she thought about it. She never has seen him eat or drink anything while in her presence. Not even a glass of water.

"I enjoy coffee but I mostly drink tea."

"Herbal grey with lemon and sugar right." She said it jokingly. Guessing his answer.

"Herbal grey with milk and sugar." He looked at her inquisitively. Both of them were surprised by how close she was. She didn't even know that about him. He continued to look at her before a smirk grew on his lips. "And you drink your coffee after midday and during the night. You like to have tea in the morning. Peach with honey and milk. You take your coffee black with sugar. Lots of it," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"I'm surprised you noticed." Not even Harry and Ron had picked up on that. She wasn't offended though. Teenage boys didn't exactly have the greatest observation skills.

"I am an observant man," he said as their eyes connected. It was for a brief moment before he turned away. At that moment she wasn't thinking about Harry or Ron. What the Order was doing or how to hunt down the Horcrux. She couldn't explain it. She felt safe and strong while in his presence. There were no lies and yet she felt as though everything was going to be okay.

Severus POV

With the way she organises her notes and meticulously places her quill on the table, Severus honestly thought that her room would be a lot neater. And less like a tornado came barging in.

Severus was bored. He was sitting at his desk in his office bored out of his mind. It wasn't that late, only around 10 pm. He didn't have any plans for the evening. After making an appearance at dinner and a draining meeting with Minerva, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. Dumbledore's portrait was snoring softly on the wall. Therefore he was severely lacking conversation.

He took out his galleon and held it loosely between his fingers. The gold hue continuously glowed in the law light. He could feel the smoothness of the surface and toyed with the ridges on the side. He wished that he could summon her. But that wouldn't be fair to her. It wasn't often that she had a night off. And she did deserve some rest. But after spending most nights in a fast-paced environment that requires a lot of mental capacity, it was hard to switch the flip off and simply relax. Quite frankly, he wasn't sure if he really knew how to. He wished that his galleon would heat up, signalling her need for him to meet up with her. He sighed and scowled. But that wasn't how their partnership worked. She always came to him at his every beck and call.

An idea sparked in his mind. It would be quite brash for him to enact this idea. But he was getting a little stir crazy and leaving the castle would be a way for him to relax and clear his mind. It would be good for him after all. It's not like he would let himself be caught. He wasn't a reckless Gryffindor, he could be discreet and was always careful. In a way, this could be fun. A nice little challenge. And he couldn't deny that he wasn't curious to see what things were like on her end. He was aware of the comings and going of the order and he knew that he could sneak in without them noticing. It would also be fun to see how she would react to his appearance. No doubt she would try to scorn him before biting her lip and going along with it since he was already there.

He looked over at the portraits and saw that Dumbledore was still sleeping. Good, he won't be chastised, at least by him.

He placed the galleon into his pocket and stood. He cast a disillusionment charm over himself and made his way out of the school. It wasn't that hard. There were many secret passages in and out of the school including ones that no student could possibly know of. Enchantments made it so only the Headmaster was aware. It didn't take him long to make his way to Grimmauld place and to find her room. He figured that she would continue to use the same one she was assigned in the summer before her fifth year. And he was correct in his assessment. Her ginger monster of a cat was the dead giveaway.

He didn't anticipate her room to be such a mess. And now he almost felt sorry for intruding, almost.

All of her things were practically strewn across the floor. Thankfully at first glance, it didn't appear as if her clothes were added to the floor. The room had a simple layout. Her bed was pressed up into the corner with a desk in the other corner. There was a dresser and a bookshelf. Though the bookshelf was overloaded with books, some appear to have fallen to the floor. The walls had no decorations and the paint seemed to be fading in some spots.

And if it wasn't for the fact that her bed was oddly made he would be concerned that she was falling down the rabbit hole again.

Her sheets were of a rich purple. Her cat was softly purring on the end of the bed. He woke up briefly when Severus entered the room. His yellow eyes glowed in the darkness. He jumped down off the bed and got closer, He strutted toward him and came closer. It wasn't until he sniffed the air that he deemed him not a threat. And snaked his way around his legs, rubbing his side as he did so. He then proceeded to jump up onto the bed and fall right back to sleep. Severus could see the way the orange fur raised and fell in a rhythmic pattern. It had a calming effect.

Severus didn't like just standing around and decided against snooping too closely at her stuff. Though the temptation was there. He ended up sitting on the bed near Crookshanks. An odd name for a cat, though who was he to judge with his own. He placed his hand on the fur and felt the softness between his fingers. He scowled as the cat rubbed himself against his leg.

He wasn't sure where she was but he doubted it would take her long to return. Besides, the change of scenery was a nice change regardless of the lack of company.

Never in his life did he ever think that he would be sitting here on Hermione Granger's bed. Not that the thought ever occurred to him in the first place. But then again there were a lot of things he never thought would occur. She was full of surprise.

Just over a week ago. she surprised him again. After a long day of managing and talking with the Dark Lord, it was always such a relief to pass through his office and private quarters to enter his home. Though he wasn't completely comfortable with Miss Granger's presence, she had a place in it.

"What do you plan to do once the war is over? He asked curiously. He, like all of the other professors, had wondered what would happen to her after she graduated. There was much speculation but he wasn't sure if she had ever been asked. "If we survive." He said reminding her that any future plans depended on that little fact.

"If we survive," she conceited. She gave it more thought than he anticipated. He figured that she would have a twelve-step plan already in the works. "I don't know. I always assumed that I would go into the Ministry to try to do some good and fight injustice. After I finished by NEWTs top of my class of course." There was a teasing smile on her face that began to fall off. She bit her lip. "But now I don't know if I could do that." She was almost hesitant to admit it.

He looked at her expectantly. Waiting for her to elaborate. "I am practically a general making battle plans in the war and yet when this is all over I will be expected to sit in class and wave my hand in the air and obey the teachers who pretend that I am a child again. Then I would have to work in a Ministry that would rather sweep this whole thing under a rug instead of admitting that their inaction caused this war to happen in the first place. It would just make me bitter and resentful. And I don't think I can go through with that," she said truthfully. He respected that. It wasn't as if she was saying she was incapable or weak to not do it. Just that she shouldn't have to go through something that would negatively impact her.

He thought about it for a second. He knew that she was legally an adult and a soldier in this war but he never considered that she would have to revert herself into a subservient role. But if there was anything he has learned in life is that there is always another way. "Once this is over you could always just take your exams at the Ministry. You don't have to go back for your seventh year despite the fact that everyone is expecting it. We both know you are excited to take your NEWTS." He couldn't deny that he was curious to know how her results compare to his own. "And screw the Ministry. If they won't listen then take the issue higher. Go to the United Nations. Make Britain take action and responsibility." He wasn't sure it would come down to that. If they survived this war a lot of people will be angry and call for justice. The Ministry wouldn't be able to afford to ignore the community or be able to stop the revolution coming their way.

She gave him a small smile with a little shake of her head. "You make it seem so easy."

"It won't be and that I think is the problem."

"And what about you? Will you go back to teaching?"

He guffawed at that. So she does have a sense of humour. He was glad that she didn't mention his current role as Headmaster. "Merlin no. Once this is over I will never be a teacher again." He had given this idea much thought in the past. "I probably won't even stay in Britain." His voice lowered softly as he thought about a life where he had a choice. "Maybe travel. See the world. I hear there is still goodness and beauty out there. I would like to see it."

She had a pleasant look on her face. "That sounds like a good idea." She looked at him quizzically. "If you have always wanted to travel, why haven't you?

"If I left I don't think I would ever come back." He signed and looked at her, giving her a knowing look as he explained, "Let's just say I might wander off in my search for a home." They both knew that there wasn't much here for him. Not anymore. But she was a different story. "And why haven't you ever left?"

"I have been to France. But I went when I was a child with my parents." It was clear that she was enjoying the memory. Before a sudden wave of sadness overcame her and she snapped out of her thoughts. "Travelling by myself just seems lonely. I don't think I want to be alone."

"Some things you have to do alone," he pointed out. He knew that many students right after they graduated did some travelling during the summer. It was seen as a right of passage. One last hurrah of fun. While at the same time being introduced to adulthood, independence, and the world. Some people did it as a group while others preferred to do it alone. He didn't see the merit if people did it as a group.

"Only if you don't ask for help." He felt as though this passive comment was directed towards him.

"You could always come with me," he suggested as an offhand comment.

For a brief moment, she had a shocked look on her face. Before she realised he was joking. He looked at her waiting for her answer. She laughed in mild confusion and fun. "What, like run away with you?"

"I wouldn't say no. Your company isn't horrid," he said, after giving her a once over.

She laughed again in feign indignation. She thought about it for a moment. "I have never been to a beach before."

Neither did he, now that he thought about it. At this moment, it was all fun and games but realistically, it wasn't that simple. He couldn't just pack up and go anywhere he wanted. "It's not like if I survive this I will be welcomed back with open arms." He thought about it for a moment. He never gave much thought to what would happen to him after the war. He always just assumed that he wouldn't live to see the end. It was probably an easier option than what the Order had in store for him. "I will probably be executed for my crimes. If not, locked up in Azkaban, then they will throw away the key."

"You really think that I would let that happen?" she asked in a small voice. She shook her head and placed her face in her hands. Almost in disbelief that he hadn't figured it out yet. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. But he had a hunch that this was one of those times where he was surprised by people's kindness. She looked at him, not with a sad or pitying look. But instead looked at him with a heartened expression. "I have been collecting and recording our interactions and the information you have been passing on to me. I have also made a copy of my memories of that meeting with Dumbledore. Anyone who watches it will be able to see that the memory is not fabricated. I also locked them up and hid them inside a muggle bank under heavy enchantments. No one but me will be able to find it. Any person who sees this evidence couldn't possibly deny that you are still an active spy working on Dumbledore's behalf. So yes you may have to go to Azkaban but at most, you will be imprisoned for a week. In the end, you will be free though."

Silence. Absolute silence. He could feel his blood rush to his ears. And his breathing slightly increased. He… He didn't know what to say. He was truly incapable of speech at this moment. It was almost as if for a second this gnawing feeling of guilt was rising. Before it gave way to this pleasant feeling of gratitude. As his silence grew so did her worry. It amazed him that her caring nature in this instance made her believe that she had crossed a line. He only had himself to blame. He rarely experienced kindness in his life. But this was something else. She was giving him not only a second chance but a chance at freedom. No one had ever given him such a choice before. The choice to make his own decisions and start over. Not be bound to expectations and regulations. If he wanted he could leave these halls and never return. He wouldn't have to hide and pretend and take orders from other people. He could go to a place where no one knew him and glared at him with suspicion. It was a beautiful dream. And for a moment he could entertain the thought. But then reality set in. And he remembered who he was and what he had done. People like him didn't get a chance to be happy. He didn't deserve to be.

He looked back over to her. Her big brown eyes were waiting in anticipation. He licked his lips as he decided on what to say. He hated that she had gone through all of the trouble, when it was all for naught. "Maybe people shouldn't know the truth."

Whatever reaction she had been expecting, it wasn't that. It almost seemed as though she would have preferred if he had yelled at her. But instead, she was left flabbergasted. "The truth is that you are a selfless man and a hero."

From her perspective, those characteristics may be true. But others will think differently because they know differently. "What do you think the Order, Potter and Weasley will think when they find out you lied and manipulated them for months while you were sneaking around everyone's back and were with me." His voice was sharp in accusation. He wasn't gentle in his statement. That was just a taste of what others would say if they found out the truth. Especially her friends. He knew that she was willing to sacrifice many things for this war. But he didn't think her friendships were one of them.

He didn't want to have an argument with her. Or tarnish what she was hoping to accomplish. His voice got quiet. "I want you to make me a promise." He hesitated again as he tried to find the right way to word his thoughts. He licked his dry lips and looked down. He couldn't look at her as he said this. As he admitted this. His hair fell down like a curtain around him. "If I don't make it. I don't want you to tell the world the truth about me. Don't wake sleeping dogs," his voice almost came out as a plea. The closest thing he ever said in a long time that almost sounded like begging for help. But he wasn't asking for her to help save him. He was asking her to let him drown. She tied off a rope for him. But it was his decision not to use it.

He was aware that his statement left a loophole. If he did survive this war she could march into the courtroom with as many documents as she could carry for all he cared. But if he was already dead, it was pointless to even try. She had memories of him, the real him. No need to paint a realistic picture of him for others to only see abstractly. It would just cause her problems in the long run.

He knew he should have thanked her. But he couldn't do it. She seemed to understand that it was a complicated subject. He thought for a moment she would fight it. Not understanding his hesitation. But instead, she seemed to accept his answer. For now. She looked down for a moment collecting her thoughts before making a decision. "Fine, then I want you to promise me something. If I don't make it, promise me you will tell the truth." She looked at him with a steady eye as she stood tall in her resolve. It was clear that she wasn't backing down from this. If he wanted her to lie, then she expected in return for him to tell the truth. It was a fair trade and a reasonable compromise. Though an unrealistic one.

Nonetheless, he looked back at her eyes, and with the same voice and conviction he gave the Dark Lord he said, "You have my word."

Most people accomplish occlumency by making their mind blank and empty. But Severus was past such basics. He could produce a faux layer of mentality that could trick the legilimencer into thinking that what they were seeing was real when it was really false.

Occlumency also had another use for the individual. It could help with defecting the Imperius curse and Veritaserum. Two things Severus could do. It required a great deal of willpower. The main point of occlumency was to control one's own emotions. A difficult task indeed. But it could be done. It could help not only with the burying of one's emotions but the acceptance of overwhelming ones as well.

Usually, it was done in the form of a shield. A mental projection of an object or environment. A constant image that contained the emotions. Some people imagined a door or a chest and only they kept the key. Another common was a labyrinth. But Severus preferred using the image of him standing on the beach. On the rocks, while the ocean pushes and pulls in front of him. The sky is always dark and cloudy with thunder crashing in the horizon, but he never lets it rain. Sometimes he will let the water trickle down from the sky but never a downpour. He wasn't as cold and unfeeling as others presumed. Even when he felt the raindrops on his cheeks, he felt everything.

It was easier for him to work when he wasn't distracted by his own personal feelings. It allowed him to remain objective

Hermione had an interesting effect on him. It was as if when that storm raged over his head he moved to sit on the wet rocks and sat next to a fire pit. He allowed the wetness to soak his clothes but the heat and glow of the fire kept him warm as the storm continued around him.

Hmm. Interesting. This was the first time he referred to her as Hermione. He often referred to her in his head as Miss Granger, as well as when he addressed her directly or in the third person. Though it wasn't as if he said it out loud, it was still clear that his thoughts had shifted when it came to her.

It was clear that she didn't see him at first. She walked in wearing a pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt. She was wearing a long silver chain necklace hidden beneath her shirt. She had a towel in her hand and was attempting to dry her hair. Despite its damp state, it was already starting to bounce back into curls.

It was obvious when she first took notice of him. She staggered back and turned away slightly once she saw him, giving a small yelp. The towel she was holding dropped to the floor in a structureless heap. She was breathing heavily.

Severus found her reaction quite amusing. Though for some reason he found his pulse quickening at the sight of her.

There was a range of emotions flickering across her face once she realised that she was not in any immediate danger and who was sitting in front of her. "Oh god. Who's dead?" She asked in a whisper panic.

He shrugged casually and simply replied, "Someone, somewhere in the world but no one of importance to me."

Realisation hit her. He wasn't here for an emergency. So why on earth was he here? "Are you insane? What if someone had seen you." She started to backtrack to the door making sure it was closed and locked. She then frantically ran to the side of her bed, grabbed her wand and started to throw up every silencing and protection charm she could think of.

He just watched as she ran about. He didn't think to mention that he had already done all of that. "You really think that I am that careless?"

She whirled to face him so sharply, it was a miracle she didn't lose her balance. "Are you drunk?" He was amused to see that in her flustered state she neglected to answer his question.

"No. I have some matters to discuss and was already out running errands." She glared at him, they both knew he didn't have any errands. He had no need to leave the castle unless it was on the Dark Lord's orders.

He looked away and made it obvious that he was inspecting the room. Even though he already did that. He decided that it was just best to move on. He was here now, and that wasn't going to change for the time being. "What on earth happened here?"

"Oh," It almost seemed that she was abashed that he caught her in such a state. "As you can see you've caught me at a really bad time." She stood awkwardly and bit her lip. Though she made no move to attempt and clean while he was there.

"That's rather obvious," he said dryly. A smirk grew on his face. "I always figured that you would be neater and more organised. Especially considering your notes and exam reviews."

She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. "You know what. I think we need to talk about boundaries. I don't exactly appreciate the criticisms here. But if you must know, I was trying to find my copy of Historical Artefacts." He gave her an amused look. Of course, that was why her room was a mess. Because of a book. She bent down and picked up the towel. She made her way to one of the piles on the floor passing him. She bent down and started sorting before she turned back to him. "Don't just continue to sit there looking at me. Help me look. "

He slowly got off the bed, making a show that he was reluctant to help. He wasn't sure what she wanted him to do. Nor did he particularly want to help but it was a nice distraction and he wasn't going to ruin it by reminding her she could just accio the book. He made his way to a bookshelf overflowing with books and began to read the titles. He took his time reading each one. A part of him was curious about her collection. It was an odd mix. Mostly it was magical books but there were a few muggle ones poking out here and there. He wasn't surprised by the number of books on dark magic. They were probably already here due to the previous owner.

He could see from the corner out of his eye, her sorting each book she came across into three distinct piles. Though he wasn't sure of the categories. They worked in silence for a few minutes before she said. "Your lucky Harry and Ron didn't want to help me and went to bed."

He bit his tongue to stop himself from making a comment he knew she wouldn't appreciate.

She saw the look on his face. "They are my friends."

"Hmmm!" Was all he could say.

She gave him a curious look. The both of them had stopped their search and were facing each other from across the room. "What does friendship mean to you?"

"If this is scrutiny due to my lack of friends at the current moment, I would tread carefully."

"No, that's not what I mean." She seemed hesitant. Not sure if she was about to cross the line. "I get that you disliked my friends. For whatever reason. I know we made it difficult for you at times. But you have probably observed us for years. And yet you doubt our friendship. I genuinely want to know why."

He lowered his eyes for a second as he thought about his answer. "Friends don't make each other cry. At least they shouldn't. He looked at her intently. Now curious himself. "How many times has Potter and Weasley walked away from you?"

She stuttered for a moment before becoming silent. He could see that her eyes fluttered when he asked. He didn't mean to upset her or to make her doubt herself. But he could see the resilience in her eyes. "At least they always come back." She looked at him in a way he couldn't describe. "Friendship doesn't eradicate our individual flaws. It means we forgive each other and help one another grow past them."

She had a fair point. But he knew that it wasn't as simple as she made it seem. He turned back to the bookshelf. But stopped mid-stride.

His blood ran cold and he stopped breathing. He felt a tingle run across his skin ending at his left arm.

She was bent over again. There was a space between her skin and shirt. He could see the swell of cleavage but that was not what drew his focus. Her necklace had slipped out of her shirt. At the bottom of the chain was a gold locket. He couldn't tell for sure from his distance but it appeared as though there was a green S on it. Just the sight of it made his blood flow with anger.

He gulped heavily and could feel his muscles contract and restrain him. He couldn't describe this feeling. The range of emotions going through him was inconsistent. Anger, rage, fear, sadness, and compliance. It reminded him as if he was kneeling before the presence of the Dark Lord and just waiting for orders. But at the same time, he felt as if he was in the middle of a duel and every step and spell he cast was fuelled up by adrenalin.

She stood up slowly and gave him a confused look not quite sure what had caused his reaction.

He was so close to storming up to her and ripping that abomination off her neck. But he couldn't bear to touch it. If just being in its presence caused this reaction in him he couldn't imagine what he would do if had it in his hands.

He hesitantly took a step back and looked at her. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why in the world do you have that?' His voice came out as a whisper.

She was quiet for a moment, not quite sure what he was referring to. But then she followed his gaze down to the locket. She never realised that it had slipped out. She looked back to him and under any other circumstances, he would be impressed that she hadn't turned away from his intense glare. "You know what this is?" Her eyes were big in shock.

"Yes. but the better question is why do you?"

She was fumbling trying to think of what to say. She looked at him hesitantly. He could see that she was afraid to tell him. When she found the words, would she lie or tell the truth? And what would her decision say about their relationship if she did tell him the truth?

He only had a moment to ponder that thought before she opened her mouth.

I would like to thank my beta demonbarber14.

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