Severus Snape sat with his head in in his hands. He was alone. Sat in the office which had become his since the last occupant had died … at his hand. It was the evening of the first of September. The air was warm but light now that the heat of the day was over, and the sun was low in the sky. There was a calm breeze in the air.

It felt wrong.

Earlier today, Severus had stood up, and addressed the school as headmaster for the first time. He'd felt hatred radiating out from his colleagues sitting on either side of him, and seen it reflected on the faces of almost every student. He hadn't even bothered telling himself he didn't care, because he knew he did. The Gryffindor table in particular had been sending him looks filled with such pure loathing there had almost been a sense of uncontrolled magic lingering in the hall. There had been a fraction of the number of students that were normally there, and Severus couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. The students that were present were going to have an exceptionally hard time, there was no point denying that fact. But the students who were so conspicuously absent were as good as declaring their opposition to the Dark Lord. There would be consequences for that.

Some of his Slytherins probably didn't hate him, but there was no denying that their opinion of him had changed. There was wariness, or distrust on most of their faces. The Carrows didn't hate him, but that was no comfort. His loneliness was much more noticeable here. Somehow, being in a large establishment where not one person knew the truth of him, or cared enough to find out was immeasurably saddening. And Hogwarts was to become a place of nightmares. There was so little he could do to prevent it.

His precious pocket watch had been on his lap for most of the evening. He wanted to contact Hermione, but had no idea what to say. An adolescent part of him still insecure about their … relationship. Another part of him felt a little snubbed that she hadn't spoken to him already, but he did his best to ignore that volatile, oversensitive part of himself that always expected too much. He sighed. This was going to be a hellish year, or perhaps longer. The thought made him groan. He'd never been bothered by isolation much, mostly because it had been self-inflicted, a sort of safe guard against harm, but this was different. He was hated. He wasn't a hated teacher … he was hated.

His pocket watch flared warm, and his heart leapt at the thought of Hermione. He stared in silence at it for a time, his mind taking him back through their time together. She made him the closest to happy he thought he'd ever been.

He remembered the way she'd shouted at Dumbledore's portrait, all fiery anger and crackling magic, so furious on his behalf, he remembered having his arms around her as she'd cried, the most gentle feeling he'd ever experienced playing out on his chest. He remembered their quiet conversations, her concern and compassion, her all-encompassing kisses, the bizarre feeling of being simultaneously painfully aroused and utterly terrified as she'd undone his buttons. He remembered the sense of relief afterwards, achievement, being silently glad that he'd let her so far in. He remembered his heart beating too fast as he'd lifted her against him, her delighted squeal that had made something inside of him sing. The whole experience of having sex with Hermione was just … exquisite. She was wonderful. She made him feel wonderful. She treated him as if he was someone else, someone who wasn't tainted and damaged, hated and cruel. It made him feel entirely out of his depths, scared and so very grateful. When he kissed her, kissed her body, bit her ear … there was a part of him that wanted to tie her up and kiss every single inch of her. There was something about their quiet intimacy, companionship, and the way she accepted him that was so very precious to him though, more than anything else. The depth of feeling he had for her was … terrifying. Terrifying and wonderful. The nightmare he'd had afterwards was fuzzy in his memory now, he knew it had been one of the worst ones he'd had … but the details were gone, just darkness and pain and despair remained. And then Hermione had been there. Silent and wide eyed. And she'd held him against her, as if he wasn't sweaty and panicky and disgusting. He'd felt so utterly out-of-control that night, but she'd been there with him, and he'd never known gratitude like that before. The way she'd looked at him when she'd taken his ugly, sallow face in her hands then, when she'd leaned forwards and kissed his sweaty brow… No one had ever, ever looked at him like that … it was as if … as if she…

He'd never fallen asleep pressed up against someone like that before either. It was intimacy beyond intimacy, after the first few awkward seconds when he'd had no idea what to do with himself, he'd decided to just embrace the madness, because madness with Hermione was a good sort of madness, and he'd pulled her more snugly against himself, relishing the closeness, and fallen asleep incredibly quickly.

It had been … difficult … allowing her to leave. It had been … weird … wanting someone to stay with him. Longing was a feeling he was very familiar with, he'd spent most of his life longing for Lily, but what he'd felt when Hermione was preparing to leave went beyond that. It was something desperate and painful.

"Severus I don't want to leave."

It had been so hard to make her then, her chin lifted stubbornly, but wobbling with emotion, her eyes filled with tears because for some inexplicable reason, she wanted to stay with him too. The sadness he'd felt had been reflected in her beautiful eyes when she'd taken his face in her hands for that final time, staring at him so intently, and he'd tried to memorise the exact expression on her face, the exact feel of her hands on his skin.

He'd stood stock still when she'd gone, trying hard to swallow against the prickling lump in his throat.

Lost.

His hands had trembled when he'd finally remembered to put the wards back up. How had she managed to have such a profound effect on him? He cared about her … so much it felt like his chest was heavy from it. She was … wonderful.

And he'd had no idea how terrified he would be for her on the night they moved Potter from Privet Drive. He'd been frantic, an odd, buzzing noise in his ears, he knew, deep down, that the reason he'd missed Yaxley, and instead struck George was because of the shaking of his hands, the burning fear that Hermione was in danger. He couldn't quite believe that he'd severed a boy's ear off. It was … horrific. What his father had done to him … the consequences of being disfigured… The loathing he'd felt for himself that night had been so intense it had threatened to destroy him. But yet again Hermione had managed to make him feel better, the guilt was still there, of course, but at her insistence, he'd felt a little less horrible. And she'd even managed to make him laugh. What she'd said … about going on some ridiculous holiday … she was his salvation.

After the first staff meeting he'd conducted, with his colleagues' furious faces and subtle hostilities… And having to lecture them, preach to them, threaten them … he'd needed her. Despite his shields … he'd needed her. And there she was, concern and empathy and anger when he hadn't complied with her request. He hadn't wanted to take his shields down. He knew it was pitiful, but they made him apathetic generally, and that was something like a release.

'For God's sake Severus I am literally the only person in the entire world you can talk to these things about!'

Something had struck his chest then. She was right, he had no one else. And although the thought was an enormously lonely one … he was infinitely grateful that she was his one person.

He finally brought himself to read her message.

'How are you?' She'd sent.

Severus snorted, running a hand over his face. What was he supposed to say to that? He was already miserable and it was the first day of term.

'Alive.' He sent with a scowl.

'Well I'm very grateful for that.'

He stared at her answer, his breath catching in his throat, his heart beat accelerating.

'You are the only one.'

'I'm sorry you're having such a horrible time. I wish I could help.'

That almost got a smile out of him. How had he managed to allow himself to become so dependent on her?

'I wish … a thousand things.' He sent back, closing his mind to the many, many things he would wish for.

'As do I.' She sent, and he remembered her earlier messages and smiled. 'I have to go. I'm sorry. I thought about you so much today Severus. At least you've made it through the first day. Perhaps tomorrow will be better.'

'Thank you.' Something about the thought of her, thinking about him, was oddly soothing.

'Take care of yourself Severus.'

'You too. Stay safe.'

And then she was gone. Severus sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. He knew he should get to bed, but sleep was a very elusive thing these days.

And he realised, now that she was gone, that he had been entirely unprepared for how much he would miss her.

His very own insufferable know-it-all.

*"Muggles," whispered Hermione, "In their rightful place. Come on, let's get going."*

The Ministry of Magic had changed. It had been a daunting place in her 5th year, now it was … Dark. The atmosphere was inherently different. The fear and mistrust seemed to seep out of every darkened brick – it was a tangible thing.

She'd been on the verge of silently congratulating herself on how well the plan had gone when everything slowly went to hell. First they found out that the person Ron was impersonating had a wife being interrogated for being a muggleborn, then Dolores bloody Umbridge walked straight onto the lift and sent Harry away.

Hermione remembered reading somewhere that the body could only remain in a state of total anxiety for a limited period of time. After that calm takes over. That didn't seem hold true though, when she was sat in a courtroom with one of the most evil people she'd ever encountered. The trial itself only added to her anxiety, her horror at what was happening. Neither did the dementors, or the petrified faces of the muggleborns brought in for questioning. Her heart beat too fast, her hands trembled, and droplets of sweat ran down her back. She had no idea what to do. They hadn't planned for this. Should she try and get away? Did Umbridge have the locket on her? Should she wait for the boys?

She must have run a thousand different possibilities as to what she should do through her head as time went on. She was glad, in a way, it was better than focusing too much on the atrocities taking place before her. Perhaps if she hadn't been so desperately afraid, she would have been angry. What was playing out in front of her was disgusting. Revolting. At some point or another, Umbridge would have to pay.

It was when it was Mrs Cattermole's turn to be interrogated that Harry declared his presence behind her. She jumped so violently she almost spilt ink everywhere. Then she was so relieved she felt weak from it.

They both caught sight of the locket.

*"That's - that's pretty, Dolores," she said, pointing at the pendant gleaming in the ruffled folds of Umbridge's blouse.

"What?" snapped Umbridge, glancing down. "Oh yes - an old family heirloom," she said, patting the locket lying on her large bosom. "The S stands for Selwyn... I am related to the Selwyns... Indeed, there are few pure-blood families to whom I am not related. A pity," she continued in a louder voice, flicking through Mrs Cattermole's questionnaire, "that the same cannot be said for you. 'Parents professions: greengrocers'."*

She barely had a chance to feel the full extent of her fury at the lie before Harry stunned Umbridge, then Yaxley. She grabbed the horcrux, and then they were off, their patronuses leading the way, the dementors dropping to either side.

*"It's been decided that you should all go home and go into hiding with your families," Harry told the waiting muggleborns, who were dazzled by the light of the Patronuses and still cowering slightly. "Go abroad if you can. Just get well away from the Ministry. That's the - er - new official position. Now, if you'll just follow the Patronuses, you'll be able to leave at the Atrium."*

For a bizarre moment Hermione just wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Then the reality of the situation sunk in. How on earth were they supposed to get out undetected?

As soon as they reached the Atrium everything suddenly became too terrifying to think clearly.

*"Seal the exit! SEAL IT!"

Yaxley had burst out of another lift and was running toward the group beside the fireplaces, into which all of the muggleborns had now vanished. As a balding wizard lifted his wand, Harry raised an enormous fist and punched him, sending him flying through the air.

"He's been helping muggleborns escape, Yaxley!" Harry shouted.

The balding wizard's colleagues set up an uproar, under cover of which Ron grabbed Mrs Cattermole, pulled her into the still-open fireplace, and disappeared. Confused, Yaxley looked from Harry to the punched wizard, while the real Reg Cattermole screamed, "My wife! Who was that with my wife? What's going on?"

Yaxley's head turned and an inkling of truth dawned on that brutish face.

"Come on!" Harry shouted; he seized her hand and they jumped into the fireplace together as Yaxley's curse sailed over Harry's head. They spun for a few seconds before shooting up out of a toilet into a cubicle. Harry flung open the door: Ron was standing there beside the sinks, still wrestling with Mrs Cattermole.

"Reg, I don't understand -"

"Let go, I'm not your husband, you've got to go home!"

There was a noise in the cubicle behind them; Harry looked around; Yaxley had just appeared.

"LET'S GO!" Harry yelled. He seized her by the hand and Ron by the arm and they turned on the spot.

Darkness engulfed them, along with the sensation of compressing hands, but something was wrong... * She could feel Yaxley's arm on hers, then they were at Grimmauld Place, but he was still with them, there was panic, then instincts kicked in and she forced him to let go with a Revulsion Jinx. Before she had a chance to draw a breath, Hermione grabbed onto the boys as hard as she could and turned them away once more.

Ron's arm was … horrible. There were great holes of flesh missing, the tangy scent of blood, and all she was sure she could do to help was splash Essence of Dittany on it, saying a silent prayer of thanks for Severus' potions.

And since she had brought a Death Eater into the Fidelius Charm … they were left with no sanctuary.

They were safely in the protective wards and tent with hot drinks when her mirror grew warm, perhaps it was because her nerves were so on edge, but it seemed to be hotter than usual. It was with relief that they finished talking about the acquired horcrux, and Hermione took the first watch, settling herself a little way away from the tent, in the cover of shadows to make it a little less obvious what she was doing. Cautiously she opened her mirror.

'You were in the MINISTRY OF MAGIC? YOU TOOK POTTER THERE? HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND GIRL? FREEING MUGGLEBORNS IS NOT A PRIORITY! Where are your infamous brains? What in God's name possessed you to go there? I doubt I could possibly be more furious with you Hermione Granger.'

'I'm sorry' she sent, tears in her eyes, 'it wasn't about muggleborns. We had to go.'

'What could possibly be worth the risk?' He sent, and she could picture the gleam in his eyes, her harshness in his face, hear the hiss of his furious words.

'Please trust me. We had to go. We had to.'

It felt like she sat for a long time after she sent that, the events of the day finally catching up to her, making her feel panicky and vulnerable.

'Very well.' He sent. 'Are you well? I heard it was a close call, you must not go back to Grimmauld Place; the defences have been breached.'

'I'm okay. But Ron got splinched –' she sent, tears starting to fall from her eyes 'he'll be fine, but it was so close, Yaxley grabbed onto me as we disapparated and I took him straight to headquarters. Now we're camping and we have no food and it's … it's my fault.' She trailed off as she tried to get herself under control.

'Can you talk properly?'

'No, I'm outside the tent on the first watch, the boys are inside.'

'Fine. But I want you to listen to me very carefully. As stupid and foolish and ridiculous as your actions seem, if they had a point, if it was worth it, then you've done well Hermione. There are very few people who could break into, and then out of the Ministry of Magic, and I think we both know who the brains behind the operation was.'

She smiled wetly at her mirror. He was a wonderful man.

'It was worth it. Thank you Severus. I – I hope what we did won't make things harder on you.'

'He's mostly just allowing me to run the school, I wouldn't wish to be a Death Eater stationed in the Ministry for a while.'

'No.' She agreed. 'How was your day?'

'A little better than yesterday.'

'Good, I'm glad. Is there anything you can do to make sure your days keep getting better?'

'Run away?'

She chuckled at his reply.

'Take me with you?'

There was a pause and her stomach clenched.

'Of course.'

She grinned.

'Thank you. You know the students would be in a lot of trouble without you though.'

'As Potter and Weasley would be without you. There is little I can do for the students Hermione.'

'Perhaps, but imagine if someone else was in charge. Imagine if Bellatrix was head.'

'I'd rather not.'

'Severus!' She sent, half amused, half exasperated. 'What I mean is; your presence is doing a lot for the students.'

'Perhaps.'

'It is! Don't think that you're not making a difference.'

'I … thank you. I – I … I miss you.' He sent.

She blushed, pleasure warming her chest and stomach.

'I miss you too. Very much.'

'I – good. Goodbye Hermione, look after yourself.'

'You too. Goodbye.'

They moved around a lot after that. The lack of food was one thing, but Ron's mood because of the lack of food was quite another. And the horcrux was an evil thing, cold and hard and evil. Whenever she wore it, her thoughts would turn to how far they still had to go, how unlikely it was that she would see Severus again, and how she might die, in love with a man who loved another. It seemed silly as soon as she took the bloody thing off, but wearing it became like a sort of punishment, all things growing darker.

Her and Harry talked constantly of possible locations for more horcruxes, possible ways to destroy them, while Ron sat brooding and angry in a corner, with no ideas himself. And she'd still received no word from Severus. She would occasionally wonder if he'd be able to help if she told him what they were doing, but it was far too risky to tell him by any other means than face to face, and part of her wondered if she was just desperate for an excuse to talk to him.

Things only went further downhill when they discovered that the orphanage Voldemort had grown up in had been demolished.

*"We could try digging in to foundations?" She suggested half-heartedly.

"He wouldn't have hidden a Horcrux here," Harry said.*

And so they moved on, each morning packing up, and setting up camp somewhere different.

It was a cold and lonely night that she finally sent Severus a message.

'I miss you.' She sent. 'How are you?'

'I miss you too.' His reply came quickly. 'I'm … alive.'

'I'm glad to hear it. Things are that bad?'

'Worse.' He sent, and something deep behind her sternum ached for him.

'I'm sorry. Tell me what happened.'

'I … I'd rather not.'

She frowned, but decided to let it slide, for now.

'Very well.'

'How are you?'

'Alive.'

'Hermione … are things that bad?'

'No, of course not.' She sent quickly. 'I'm just feeling sorry for myself.'

'I … you are not particularly prone to doing so, if my memory serves me correctly.'

'Is that a compliment Severus?'

'No.'

'Ha bloody ha.'

'Tell me what's happening.'

She sighed.

'We're fine, I'm just cold and tired and hungry and bloody Dumbledore could have made things a bit easier for us.'

There was a pause.

'Are you safe?'

'Yes. Relatively.'

'Dumbledore was painfully eccentric. I'm sure he thought he was doing what was best.'

'Yes.' She answered, a surge of anger rushing through her that had nothing to do with the vague instructions the late headmaster had left Harry.

'Could … could I be of any assistance, Hermione?'

'Thank you but no, it's only supposed to be us 3, and it would far too dangerous to tell you where we are.'

'You're right, do not disclose that information. Bloody Dumbledore.'

'Severus do you miss him?' She sent, then sat holding her breath, waiting for his reply.

'Yes.' He finally answered. 'As infuriating as I found him at times … I miss him almost every day.'

It wasn't surprising really, she thought, a tear escaping from her eye, Severus was effectively taking the place of Dumbledore, of course he'd think about him. And if he was thinking about him, then he was probably missing him. Dumbledore was a leader, and there was something less terrifying about following a leader, rather than having to make every decision alone.

'I'm sorry. He asked far too much of you Severus, he was incredibly lucky to have you.'

'He asked what was necessary.'

'Yes, but that didn't mean that what he asked was easy.'

'Indeed.' He sent. 'You shouting at his portrait is a memory I will always cherish.'

A slow smile overtook her face as she read his response, she could picture the amused crinkle around his eyes, the smirk on his lips.

'I'm glad I could be of service. I'd better go Severus, Ron's taking over my shift in a few minutes. Take care of yourself, be safe. I hope things improve'

'Thank you. You too.'

She missed Severus so much, it was like a constant weight that she had to carry around with her. She missed his smirks and sarcasm, she missed his limp hair and sallow skin, she missed his touches, his rare smiles, the shy, sweet expression that sometimes crossed his face when they were together. She just … missed him. But that night she fell asleep much easier than usual.

As the days stretched into weeks, Ron became more and more dissatisfied with Harry, and the rambling journey they were on. She herself had to admit that she was growing increasingly frustrated. She didn't blame Harry, it just seemed that the three of them were never going to get any closer to finding or destroying any of the horcruxes, and when Ron would come to her, and voice his thoughts on the matter, it was becoming harder and harder to find counter arguments. They were hungry, isolated, no closer to anything, and completely ignorant to what was happening in the war. She could of course, ask Severus, but she was sure if there was vital information he would tell her, and anything else she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know.

The moment they realised the sword of Gryffindor could destroy horcruxes was like a sudden beam on sunlight on a cloudy day. Finally, finally they had something, and it was more precious than just news of what was happening, more precious than hearing the familiar voices of Ted Tonks and Dean Thomas, it was a step forward, finally a step forward.

*"The sword can destroy Horcruxes! Goblin-made blades imbibe only that which strengthens them - Harry, that sword's impregnated with basilisk venom!" She cried.

"And Dumbledore didn't give it to me because he still needed it, he wanted to use it on the locket -"

" - and he must have realized they wouldn't let you have it if he put it in his will - "

" - so he made a copy - "

" - and put a fake in the glass case -"

" - and he left the real one - where?"*

They gazed at east other, suddenly faltering. Did Severus know where the sword was? It certainly didn't sound as if he did, he'd thought the one he was transferring to Gringotts was real. Should she tell him? If You-Know-Who found out he was sure to be in trouble … but the fake had fooled everyone, perhaps it would be safer if he didn't know.

*"Think!" whispered Hermione. "Think! Where would he have left it?"

"Not at Hogwarts," said Harry, resuming his pacing.

"Somewhere in Hogsmeade?" She suggested.

"The Shrieking Shack?" he said. "Nobody ever goes in there."

"But Snape knows how to get in?" She reminded Harry, barely remembering to use his surname.

"Dumbledore trusted Snape," Harry said.

"Not enough to tell him that he had swapped the swords," She responded, keeping the bitterness out of her voice with difficulty.

"Yeah, you're right!" said Harry. "So, would he have hidden the sword well away from Hogsmeade, then? What d'you reckon, Ron? Ron?"*

And then, once again, everything went to hell.

There was something about Ron leaving that felt like a death. Somehow she'd always thought that as long as the three of them were together, they'd be okay. And now there was only 2. Two people on the run felt much more hopeless, much more terrifying and bleak. It was only her and Harry. Two people on an impossible mission, two people against the world. Perhaps her grief was making her thoughts melodramatic, but right now they were as good as alone. She had Severus of course, and she was immeasurably grateful for that, but there was so much she couldn't tell him, so much she didn't dare, and he wasn't the most open of people either. There was so much she wished she could tell him, she wanted his knowledge, he was sure to have plenty about horcruxes, perhaps he would even have an idea of where some were, but if Voldemort ever got past his defences and found out what they were doing ... all would be lost. And it seemed unlikely they would get to talk face to face again anytime soon.

She lay awake nearly all night, her thoughts dark and hopeless, she wondered where Ron was, she wondered what she and Harry would do now, she wondered if Ron would be safe, she wondered what Severus was doing, she wondered if she was starting to feel as hopeless as he did.

'Ron's left us.' She sent, when the sky was finally starting to get lighter. His reply came so fast she wondered if he'd been to sleep at all.

'Of all the useless, dunderheaded things to do… Why?'

'He's … he's just had enough, we're not getting anywhere, we're hungry, he misses his family…'

'And are you not in the same situation?'

'Yes, but-'

'Weasley is a coward. Pathetic.'

'Severus-'

'How could he abandon you?'

'Severus you don't know what it's like! I've … I've thought about it to.'

'But unless you're neglecting to tell me something … you are still with Potter.'

'Yes.'

'Are you suffering very much?'

'It … it's not that bad. Nothing compared to what you're going through, it's just … draining.'

'I don't want you to feel as if you cannot tell me something just because you believe my suffering to be greater than yours.'

For some reason that last message made her start crying again.

'Thank you Severus.' She sent. 'I miss you so much, I wish I could tell you what we're trying to do.'

'It would not be … prudent. Particularly not through this means of communication.'

'I know. So how are you?'

'Well enough.'

'How's Hogwarts?'

It was a long time before he replied.

'It is a place of nightmares.'

They spoke more often after that, each sensing the others' need for companionship. The conversations were brief; 'take care's and 'I miss you's. It might not have been much, but with Ron's absence hanging over them like a fatal illness, Hermione found each and every message to be a salvation.

She knew, from the infrequent and snide visits from Phineas Nigellus, that Severus was facing a constant, if underground rebellion. It sounded as if Neville, Ginny and Luna were forerunners. She knew that their actions were commendable, but all she felt was a tired sort of annoyance that they were causing Severus more problems. From the weird hours of the late night and early morning that they would sometimes talk, Hermione suspected that he was getting even less sleep than her. She was worried for him, but somehow inquiring about how much he was eating, or asking about his sleeping habits seemed entirely wrong, and he never seemed to want to speak of the day to day happenings. There was a tiny part of her that still thought of Severus as the unapproachable, inhuman, nasty Potions Master, and asking him how many hours sleep he was getting was unthinkable. Of course, a much larger part of her saw him as her Severus, his vulnerability and beautiful eyes and scarred and pale body, his burning kisses and awkward concern and his clever hands.

She ached for him constantly.

The weather got steadily colder until life became a constant battle with frost and snow. She wasn't sure her toes would ever get warm. And then one day they found themselves in Godric's Hollow. It wasn't quite as simple as that of course; they'd planned and talked and were both heavily disguised, but they were there, nonetheless. It looked like a Christmas card. The village was covered in snow, there were Christmas decorations twinkling in the windows, and the dark blue sky littered with stars above them. But from the moment they arrived, a heavy sort of forbidding found its way deep into her stomach.

They progressed slowly through the village, looking into the snow-covered houses and peering down the lanes.

*"Harry, I think it's Christmas Eve!" She said.

"Is it?"

"I'm sure it is," she said, her eyes upon the church. "They... they'll be in there, won't they? Your mum and dad? I can see the graveyard behind it."*

And so they headed towards a graveyard, the feeling of foreboding rising up into her throat, but she remained silent, because she knew how important this was to Harry.

It was strange seeing James and Lily's gravestones. Despite the slight resentment Hermione carried for the woman who Severus loved so deeply, she still felt the loss of her in the graveyard, and James too. It was a strange feeling; they'd died long before she'd even known she was a witch, but here, their absence felt significant. And she realised Harry was crying with a similar painful stab in her chest that she'd felt when she'd realised that Severus was crying all those weeks ago in Grimmauld Place. Two of the men who meant most to her. She squeezed Harry's hand tightly, relived when he returned the pressure, then they lay flowers on the graves, and left.

An old woman appearing from nowhere with the eerie ability to see through invisibility cloaks should have stood out as immensely fishy. Perhaps on some level it did, but the two of them were desperate for answers, desperate for help … and the thought that old Bathilda Bagshot might have the sword of Gryffindor was far too alluring for either of them to resist.

Her house smelled disgusting. The gloom and flickering candlelight made Hermione feel slightly sick. In hindsight, she really should have known something was seriously wrong the moment that the woman took Harry away from her.

She heard a thump, and called out for him, but he didn't reply. Something cold and throbbing seized her stomach, so she ran up the staircase, her heart beating in the throat … and suddenly there was snake everywhere.

She got a terrified impression of its huge body, its slitted eyes, and then it lunged for her. She dived away, catching a fleeting glimpse of a bleeding, and wandless Harry, before she fell painfully on her side. Her mind was filled with the need to protect Harry, and she shot a curse from her wand, throwing the snake into the air.

*"He's coming! Hermione he's coming!"*

There was no need to aske who "he" was.

She knew she only had a few moments to get them out of there, but then the snake fell, hissing madly, smashing shelves, breaking china … and then Harry grabbed her, pulling her roughly backwards, she only just managed to keep a hold of her wand. He was screaming in pain, the snake reared, only narrowly missing them, and Harry pulled her back again.

*"Confringo!"* She screamed, and her curse smashed around the room, her aim off, breaking apart the wardrobe, shattering the glass, she screamed as Harry threw them both out the window.

The last thing she saw before she apparated them away was a sight she knew she would never forget. In the seconds before she had turned them into darkness, Voldemort had coming running through the bedroom door. Tall and frighteningly pale, his red eyes flashed manically, he saw them falling … his scream of rage mingled with her scream of terror … and then they were gone.

They reappeared in a wooded clearing, Harry fell to the floor, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands tearing at his own face.

"Harry!" She shouted, but he could not hear her.

The wound from the snake was nasty, but not too deep, Hermione shoved the bezoar down his throat, then hurried to put the protective enchantments around them. Then he started screaming, tearing instead at his chest. She rushed to his side and spelled off his jumper, barely holding in another scream when she saw the horcrux digging into his pale flesh. Pushing his fingers aside, she tried to pull it off herself but the thing was stuck, almost welded to him. She reached for her wand but no charm she could think of removed it either. Harry's screams turned more frantic and something deep and desperate in her chest sprang into life, fear taking hold, Voledmort's face flashing into her mind. She grabbed Harry's shoulders and started shaking him, noting that there were tears down her cheeks but disregarding the fact as irrelevant.

"HARRY!"

It made no difference.

Frantically she reached for her mirror, tearing off her restricting layers of clothing and all but screaming Severus' name into the night.

It felt like a long time later that his face appeared.

"What's happened?" He asked quickly, "Who's screaming?"

Procrastination is a powerful thing. My exams start this week and go on for two weeks so it will be at least that long until the next chapter, probably longer, sorry!

*Text in between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by Queen J.K Rowling.

guest "Please do not kill Severus..." - Ah now that would be telling ;)

Guest "I really like this chapter..." Thank you! There's something rather intriguing about a vulnerable Snape ;) Thanks for reviewing.