Severus Snape felt like an idiot. He was a bloody fucking idiot. He'd let her in too far… Again.

He sighed.

Not that he'd been in any sort of condition to send someone so stubborn away at the time. All the same, he should have tried.

When he'd returned to his office, already stressed and angry about the state Montague was in, and seen the Pensive rippling … he'd just known. He'd just known that bloody Potter had stuck his overlarge head straight into his most sacred and private memories. That boy was nothing but a menace. Severus knew he should count himself lucky that the boy had seen his worst memory out of context – he hadn't understood the significance of it, but he didn't feel very lucky. Far from it. But at least Potter didn't know about himself and Lily. He really would have just had to poison himself if that had happened.

He'd been so blinded by such an intense anger, an anger borne of old pain and humiliation that he couldn't even remember what he'd said to the boy. It had taken the all the self control he possessed not to hurt the brat, and even then his anger had been so powerful that he'd wandlessly shattered a jar of cockroaches right by Potter's head. He wasn't sure how much he'd destroyed his office by hand and how much he'd done by magic. He hadn't totally lost control like that in a very long time. After he'd ridden his tantrum out, – and yes, if he was honest it had been a tantrum; he'd thrown jars, torn down shelves, overturned his desk, screaming and swearing the entire time - he'd just felt empty and heavy and sunk into a despair so deep, a tiny part of his brain that had still been active and rational had been panicking that he'd never pull himself out of it. And he'd just fallen to the floor where he stood and lain there, unmoving, wallowing in his own pain, picturing himself with his underwear exposed in front of the whole school, gagging on soap bubbles, calling the only girl who he'd ever loved an unforgivable name. The only girl who'd ever cared about him. Even his Mother hadn't been too bothered. She hadn't wanted him suffering or dead, but other than that she'd been rather indifferent to his existence. Lily had been the only one who'd cared about him, and look what he'd done to her. He'd as good as killed her. Nothing could change that.

'She was the only girl who cared about you, until now…' said a dangerous little voice in his head, but he ignored it.

Lily. It was always Lily.

He'd been so far gone that Granger's voice had seemed to come to him from a great distance, but she'd sounded so worried, and then she started stroking his hair. It had been a very, very long time since someone had stroked his hair, in fact only his Grandmother ever had, and she'd died when he was 7… It had felt indecently good and he'd been desperate to focus on something other than his own misery. And then she'd insisted on tending to his nosebleed, like they were… well … she'd behaved in a manner that had been inappropriate and far too familiar.

And he'd let her.

It had been a long time since he'd let his emotions get so far out of control it had resulted in a nosebleed. And Granger had been a witness. Again. A hot, prickling humiliation spread through him. Oh God, and then he'd lain with his head on her lap. He groaned. He'd been so desperate for her to understand, for anyone to understand; they'd looked at one another and he'd seen such honesty in her face, in her big amber eyes, he'd felt the last of his defences crumble, and then they'd been this weight in the forefront of his mind and he'd felt a heavy concern that wasn't his own and he'd quickly looked away. Best not to focus on what that had been. This was bad. She'd reached for his hand after that, almost as if she understood how desperately and completely alone he was, and wanted to reach out to him, but she hadn't been able to reach and in that second he'd felt such a deep sense of disappointment that he'd just reached out to her, without thinking, and she'd grabbed his hand and held on tight. The feel of another person's hand in his, another person holding onto him had been immeasurably comforting. He'd fallen asleep in that same position. Lulled into a slumber by his complete, bone-weary exhaustion and despair and the feel of her fingers stroking his hair. His horrible, greasy hair. Granger obviously didn't think it was horrible … not that it mattered, of course.

He'd been woken by a nightmare, as he so often was these days, but the details were gone, it had been something about Lily… But Granger had been there, she'd stayed with him, it must have been for hours. And she'd given him yet another bloody glass of water, it was becoming her signature move – if in doubt, give water. He smirked, then frowned. No more glasses of water from her. It had to stop.

She'd asked him if he was ok that night, and by God he'd been anything but. The images of his worst memory had been playing on repeat ever since Potter had seen it, his total humiliation and the loss of something so deeply precious to him playing out over and over again. And Lily had never forgiven him. And now she never could. Not that he deserved forgiveness or ever would. He'd almost wanted to tell the girl everything in that moment, and he probably would have done if the prospect of actually voicing all of it hadn't been so horrific. And he didn't want to see the rejection, the hate in her eyes if she ever found out he was the reason her best friend's parents were dead.

He'd been letting the girl get under his skin, and it just couldn't happen. Aside from it being undesirable and wildly inappropriate, he had more than enough on his plate without adding a stubborn, intelligent, psychologically challenged Gryffindor into the mix. She needed to stay away from him. But he'd been so weak that night, she'd sat next to him, pulled the blanket over their laps and taken his hand. He'd tried to resist, if only for a moment, but she'd clung on and idiot that he was he'd held her hand back, held it tightly, using it's warmth and strength to remind himself why he was in the Order, why he was risking everything, why he would always fight the Dark Lord. He'd needed a teenage girl's strength to help him remember. He really didn't want to analyse why that was.

'I care about you.' Her whispered confession had haunted him ever since that night. 'I care about you.'

And she did care about him. He knew she did and that was part of the problem. She was nice to him, she was growing into an attractive young woman, she was intelligent, witty and brave and energetic and she'd care if he died. That was the crux of the matter, he'd imagine his own death plenty of times, he lived with an ever present threat of it, and what had always made him more melancholy than death itself was the thought of no one mourning him. And no one would, not really, he was useful to people, and that was about it. But for some reason Granger cared, and he'd never imagined someone like her, someone so wholly good, even if she was annoying, would mourn him. And if he was brutally honest with himself, that was why he was finding it so hard to push her away; deep down, he wanted someone like her to miss him when he was gone. He knew his chances of getting through this war were slim, and he secretly, desperately wanted to be missed, at least by one, decent person. And Granger was decent. More than decent. And she cared about him, she even seemed to like him. Maybe he'd just never outgrown that little boy desperate to be accepted.

Shit he was in deep trouble.

He'd decided to push her away after that night but his resolve hadn't lasted long; a mere few days in fact. He'd been patrolling the corridors as he so often did when he was unable to sleep, reliving one of Umbridge's staff meetings where McGonagall had wandlessly and nonverbally Transfigured the Headmistress' teacup into a toad, complete with warts, when Granger had come hurtling towards him, half naked and crying her eyes out and collided with him. He'd grabbed her out of instinct, wondering what on earth had happened to girl and feeling an unfamiliar sense of worry when she'd started screaming. And wailing. And sobbing. He'd stood there completely frozen for what felt like an age, before he'd just yelled at her. And she'd stopped screaming and almost gone limp in his arms, her tearstained face a picture of relief before she'd remembered herself and turned away from him. Granger was probably the only student in history that would be relieved to see him in the middle of the night. And she knew he was Death Eater.

He shook his head.

It had turned out she'd had a nightmare and then he'd been the one who was relieved, relieved that it was nothing worse. And instead of sending her back to her dormitory like he should have, he'd led her into an empty classroom, tried very hard not to look at her long bare legs, and had a hot chocolate with her.

Shit. That was more than what he'd do for a member of his own house.

When she'd asked him about the Dark Lord finding out about his treachery, he'd immediately suspected that her nightmare had involved him, and for it to reduce her to that state was very worrying, even if it did make him feel a little less alone. So he'd remembered his earlier resolve and tried to scare her away, fear and survival instinct could be a very powerful thing. But it had backfired somewhat when the little harridan had yelled at him. 'I TRUST YOU, YOU GREAT BIG IDIOT'. He really, really should have been furious at her for speaking to him in such a manner, but it had come as such a shock he'd almost started properly laughing. Admittedly he'd managed to reduce it to a chuckle but he was still allowing himself far too many liberties when it came to that blasted little Gryffindor and it really, really had to stop.

Snape was ignoring her again. A tiny part of her was quite pleased because she still felt hot and embarrassed every time she remembered crying and snotting all over him. That was probably why he was ignoring her – he must have found it embarrassing too, and she hadn't exactly been fully dressed. She coloured. Well, he could ignore her for now, it was unpleasant but maybe necessary for the time being, it was June now and OWLs were upon them. Maybe having a distraction in black, who she really liked, actively avoiding her was a good thing. Only for now of course, she'd bide her time and they'd soon be back on track.

Back on track for what? Best not think about that right now.

*"Please, Professor," said Hermione, her hand in the air, "when will we find out our results?"

"An owl will be sent to you sometime in July," said Professor McGonagall.*

That was a very long time to wait for something so crucial. The knot of worry in her stomach tightened. She sighed.

There was a war on. Perspective.

Charms came and went, then Transfiguration, then Herbology, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes and it was the weekend. Snape was still stonily ignoring her and it was starting to hurt, which only made her extremely bad tempered. It didn't help that Potions was their next exam and she wanted Professor Snape to wish her luck so much it felt like a physical ache in her chest. Fat chance of that happening.

It didn't happen. She didn't even see him before the exam and it made her edgy for the both the written paper and the practical. Bloody man. The mere absence of his presence was getting to her. Then came Care of Magical Creatures (in which she was almost desperate to do well in the hope it would stop Hagrid getting sacked) then the Astronomy paper, Arithmancy and the Astronomy practical at 11pm.

She was just checking over her work when she heard a roar from the grounds that instantly sent her pulse through the roof.

*Professor Tofty gave a dry little cough.

"Try and concentrate, now, boys and girls," he said softly.

There was a loud BANG from the grounds.

Hagrid's door had burst open and by the light flooding out of the cabin they saw him quite clearly, a massive figure roaring and brandishing his fists, surrounded by six people, all of whom, judging by the tiny threads of red light they were casting in his direction, seemed to be attempting to Stun him.

"No!" She cried.

"My dear!" Said Professor Tofty in a scandalised voice. "This is an examination!"

But nobody was paying the slightest attention to their star-charts any more. Jets of red light were still flying about beside Hagrid's cabin, yet somehow they seemed to be bouncing off him; he was still upright and fighting.

Hagrid gave a howl of fury when Fang was stunned, lifted the culprit bodily from the ground and threw him; the man flew what looked like ten feet and did not get up again. Hermione gasped; none of them had ever seen Hagrid in a real temper before.

"How dare you!" A figure shouted as she ran towards the scene. "How dare you!"

"It's McGonagall!" She whispered.

"Leave him alone! Alone, I say!" said Professor McGonagall's voice through the darkness. "On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such - "

Hermione, Parvati and Lavender all screamed. The figures around the cabin had shot no fewer than four Stunners at Professor McGonagall. Halfway between cabin and castle the red beams collided with her; for a moment she looked luminous and glowed an eerie red, then she lifted right off her feet, landed hard on her back, and moved no more.

"Galloping gargoyles!" shouted Professor Tofty, who also seemed to have forgotten the exam completely. "Not so much as a warning! Outrageous behaviour!"

"COWARDS!" bellowed Hagrid; his voice carried clearly to the top of the tower, and several lights flickered back on inside the castle. "RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O' THAT - AN' THAT - "

"Oh my - " She gasped.

Hagrid took two massive swipes at his closest attackers; judging by their immediate collapse, they had been knocked cold.

"Get him, get him!" screamed Umbridge, but her remaining helper seemed highly reluctant to go within reach of Hagrid's fists; indeed, he was backing away so fast he tripped over one of his unconscious colleagues and fell over. Hagrid had turned and begun to run with Fang still hung around his neck. Umbridge sent one last Stunning Spell after him but it missed; and Hagrid, running full-pelt towards the distant gates, disappeared into the darkness.

There was a long minute's quivering silence as everybody gazed open-mouthed into the grounds. Then Professor Tofty's voice said feebly, "Um ... five minutes to go, everybody."*

But she didn't even look at her paper again. First they'd got rid of Dumbledore, now they were going after those who were closest to him. Snape would surely be next, he was in the Order. An eerie cold settled over her shoulders. She'd get Umbridge for this, no matter how long it took, she'd get her. She could feel herself shaking and she honestly didn't know if it was from rage, fear for McGonagall or just from an unhealthy surge of adrenalin.

Though she was extremely tempted to sneak to the hospital wing to see if McGonagall was okay, something held her back. The thought of seeing her fierce, strong, fiery head of house lying motionless in a bed was almost too much to bear. How could they do this?! How could they get away with it there were so many witnesses?! But deep down she knew they would, the Ministry of Magic was corrupt these day, rotting with fear, and there was nothing she could do about it. She punched her pillow into a more comfortable shape letting out an angry huff of breath. It felt like they were at war with the Government, as well as Voldemort. How many battles were ahead?

She faced her last exam with a growing sense of relief, not knowing that today would be the day she faced death, in a silver mask.

*"Harry!" she said, very frightened. "What happened? Are you all right? Are you ill?"

"Where have you been?" demanded Ron.

"Come with me," Harry said quickly, looking manic. "Come on, I've got to tell you something."

He led them along the first-floor corridor, peering through doorways, and at last found an empty classroom into which he dived, closing the door behind them the moment they were inside, and leaned against it, facing them.

"Voldemort's got Sirius."

The world seemed to slow down.

"What?"

"How d'you - ?"

"Saw it. Just now. When I fell asleep in the exam."

"But - but where? How?" said Hermione, whose face was white.

"I dunno how," said Harry. "But I know exactly where. There's a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls and they're at the end of row ninety-seven ... he's trying to use Sirius to get whatever it is he wants from in there ... he's torturing him ... says he'll end by killing him!"

Harry's voice was shaking, as were his knees. He moved over to a desk and sat down on it.

"How're we going to get there?" He asked them.

There was a moment's silence. Then Ron said, "G-get there?"

"Get to the Department of Mysteries, so we can rescue Sirius!" Harry said loudly.*

And after that everything turned into a hideous blur. It didn't matter that she didn't like Sirius, he loved Harry and Harry loved him, Harry needed him, and no one deserved to be tortured for hours on end. And there were no members of the Order left that they could turn to.

Snape.

How had she not thought of him?

But there was no way Harry would go to Snape for help, he didn't trust him an inch. And right now Harry was so frantic and angry and wouldn't listen to reason at all. There was something very dodgy about this whole thing, but all she could focus on was forming some sort of a plan before they went running off to rescue Sirius.

And that was how they ended up in Umbridge's office.

And that was how they got caught.

When Umbridge and the Inquisitorial Squad laughed about Professor McGonagall's condition, a fury so intense swept through her, and she was filled with so much anger and hate that it simultaneously scared and excited her, she could feel it stirring her magic, her pulse increased and her mind was moving so fast she knew she'd do whatever it took to protect Sirius and Harry and whoever else from evil. And right now Professor Umbridge was the evil.

But then Snape was there, looking wonderfully indifferent and hope flared bright and clean on her chest, but she couldn't quite see him properly, if she could just make eye contact, maybe he'd be able to get into her head… She struggled more violently but to no avail.

*"'You took my last bottle of Veritaserum to interrogate Potter," he said, surveying her coolly through his greasy curtains of black hair. "Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient."

Umbridge flushed.

"You can make some more, can't you?" she said, her voice becoming more sweetly girlish as it always did when she was furious.

"Certainly," said Snape, his lip curling. "It takes a full moon-cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month."*

She felt such a rush of affection for him in that moment that she almost cried.

Afterwards she didn't have much time to think of her Potions Professor again, except to wish she could have frozen time in that moment and spoken to him openly.

All too soon she was leading Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest, terrified but fiercely determined, steel flowing through her veins. As if she would have let that evil old had cast a single spell against her friend. She'd been rather good at Drama in Primary School.

It hadn't gone exactly to plan with the centaurs, in fact they were quite savage when they turned on her and Harry, all the same the triumph that overtook her when Umbridge was carried off, screaming and shouting more than made up for it. Revenge was wonderful.

Then Ginny, Ron, Neville and Luna were there and she was soaring through the night air, an invisible body underneath her and dread in her heart. This wasn't right. If she could have just got back to the castle and spoken to Snape … but it came to a choice between staying with her friends or leaving them. And she couldn't leave them. She would never, ever leave them.

The Thestrals flew very fast and she was terrified and cold and unbelievably uneasy. Twilight fell and the Thestrals flew on, eventually changing direction rather too abruptly and heading for the ground.

She would have enjoyed looking around the Ministry under different circumstances; it really did have the most interesting history… But then they entered the dark depths of the Department of Mysteries and foreboding thrummed through her body like a drug.

There were brains swimming in eerie green liquid, an archway with a decaying black curtain that entranced and mesmerised those who got too close, a shining room covered in clocks and jars containing time itself, and then they were in a dusty room, taller and larger than a church with glimmering orbs and a heavy silence.

*"Ninety-seven!' whispered Hermione.

They stood grouped around the end of the row, gazing down the alley beside it. There was nobody there. Her stomach twisted.

"He's right down at the end," said Harry dryly. "You can't see properly from here."

And he led them between the towering rows of glass balls, some of which glowed softly as they passed …

"He should be near here," whispered Harry, "anywhere here ... really close ..."

"Harry?" She said tentatively, but he did not respond.

"Somewhere about ... here ..." he said.

They had reached the end of the row and emerged into more dim candlelight, there was nobody there. Only an echoing, dusty silence and she knew something was very, very wrong.

"He might be ..." Harry whispered hoarsely, peering down the next alley. "Or maybe..." He hurried to look down the one beyond that.

"Harry?" She said again.

"What?" He snarled.

"I ... I don't think Sirius is here."*

And then everything dissolved into chaos as her very worst fears were realised in the form of numerous tall, robed figures with glinting masks and wands pointed straight at their chests. If she got out of this alive she knew that this moment would haunt her for many years. But Harry, she had to keep Harry safe.

Hermione thought of Snape. She wasn't sure if she wanted him to be behind one of those masks or not. On the one hand they would stand a much better chance if he fought alongside them, but she didn't want him to be faced with an impossible decision. He'd have to reveal himself as loyal to the Order if he helped them, eliminating him as one of the most valuable tools the society had, and then Voldemort would hunt him to his death. Or he'd have to stand back and watch them die. Her chest filled with worry for him. No, she didn't want to be here, she hoped wholeheartedly he was somewhere else, somewhere safe where he wouldn't have to suffer for their stupidity.

And then there was glass shattering everywhere and pearly white figures un-furling into the air around them and they were running, running faster than they ever had before and all she could hear was the mad thudding in her ears as her blood rushed around her body.

She only got vague impressions of flashes of spells and glittering lights before they were hiding under the desks, and she was so much more afraid than she'd ever been in her entire life. Then they were fighting, 3 children fighting Voldemort's elite.

She was just starting to think they had a chance when there was a bright flash of purple, a stab of pain and the world dissolved around her…

Right here it is! Sorry it took so long, because the whole Department of Mysteries bit is so big and important it's taken me ages to figure out how to write around it. Obviously I know what I'm doing now so it shouldn't take as long for the next chapter to be posted.

I have been working crazy hours this week, and I will be next week too, in a last ditch attempt to get more money before I go back to University so please bear with me :)

I'm also sorry there's no Snermione scenes in this one but there will be soon I swear ;)

Last thing - I've started a fandom fashion account on Instagram, I've been meaning to for an age. They'll be lots of Harry Potter pieces but items from other fandoms too. Check it out if you're interested - search "fandom_merchandise_"

Thanks for reading

*Text in between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - J.K Rowling