Snape paced wildly in his office, a balled-up note in his hands.

His orders had arrived from Granger twenty minutes earlier, and just the sight of her carefully constructed cursive was enough to make his blood boil.

He wanted to throttle her. He wanted to kiss her. Most of all, Snape wanted some bloody fucking explanations from her.

But of course, on that horrible night three weeks ago, he had told her that he wanted none of those things. Granger had dutifully done as requested, and theirs had been a cold détente. To his surprise, she'd not attempted to manipulate him into a deeper involvement in the investigation, nor had she tried to mend their personal relationship at all. It was driving him mad.

Fleetingly, Snape wondered if Lily had ever been this conflicted after their last fight. She had severed their relationship without letting him explain or apologise, much as he'd done with Granger; had a time come when Lily had wished for an explanation? Closure? He was not unaware of the irony in the situation.

Although it's not like I've made any kind of gesture that would indicate that I am open to said reconciliation… and now I'm left to infer and speculate what the hell is going on, just like old times. At least I get the pleasure of doing it under the threat of obliviation, rather than a drawn-out death or a long holiday in Azkaban's finest cell…

The notion held no comfort, however. If his involvement was revealed to the other Unspeakables, there would be hell to pay. Taking a single memory or event from a wizard could be dangerous enough, but erasing something as complex as this, with his mental protections to boot? While most wizards and witches weren't strong at mind-magic, Severus had seen first-hand what a powerfully cast, multi-memory obliviate did to the minds of someone exceptionally talented at mind-magic, and it had been horrifying.

Granger had been correct to worry; sometimes the spell outright failed, but more often than not it took far more than the targeted memories, Gilderoy Lockhart being a prime example. If the witch or wizard had particularly strong shields and could not lower them, such as he did, the collapse of the mental protections could even trap him in the abyss of their own mind forever.

And then, of course, was the stress brought on by the fact that some pure-blood madman was faffing about with blood magic in the foulest way. Little wonder that he'd lost his temper more in the last week than in the whole of the previous year.

"Ahhh, from your glowing and vigorous countenance," a snide and nasally voice said from the far wall, "it would appear that you've just received a note from your lady love."

"She is not my lady love," Snape replied through gritted teeth, scowling at Phineas Nigellas Black.

"My apologies. What did you call her during that exceedingly diverting rant two weeks ago? Ah, yes, a manipulative, cold-hearted, Mata Hari wanna-be, bitch. At least you refrained from calling her a mudblood, unlike the last time you fell for a— "

"Don't make me take the turpentine to you, Black!"

The former Headmaster sneered right back, narrow face turning ugly. "If the good and great Dumbledore couldn't destroy me after all those years, then you hardly have a chance, boy!"

Snape took a deep breath in, nostrils flaring. "If I wanted advice, I would summon you. Clearly, I don't. Bugger off!"

"When you pull your head out of ass, I will be glad to do so. But alas, one of us portraits is magically-bond to act as your conscience, and I drew the short straw on this round. And as your conscience, I will again repeat: pull your head out of your ass and talk to Miss Granger! There is too much at stake for you to pout like a snot-nosed firstie!"

"I am not pouting," he hissed, his own avalanche of doubts about Hermione's motivations and doubts making him a liar.

"Have you told her about the increased incidences of illnesses among the pure-bloods and half-bloods?"

"No."

"Have you mentioned that the Hogwarts' House-Elves are reporting that elves in the service of pure-blood families are dying in droves?"

"No!"

"Then you are most definitely pouting, and more than that, you are putting everything that you bled and fought for in danger!"

Black was correct, damn him; Snape knew all too well how this game was played. His retort was weak at best and they both knew it. "You can't deny that she lied and used me."

"No." He shrugged, expression dismissive. "But do you really think that she did it all out of spite? And do you have a leg to stand on when it comes to that particular argument? You, who killed Dumbledore and watched Charity Burbage scream and die, among others?"

"You go too far!"

"Do I? No, I think not. She is a spy in dangerous times, just like you were. And she's just as ruthless as you were, and just as determined to finish the mission despite the personal costs. I would think that after all this time, you would be pleased to meet a woman who could well understand your particular moral greyscape." Black folded his arms over his chest and stared down at him. "Think of the bright side—now you can say that you understand how McGonagall felt after it was revealed that both you and Albus pulled the wool over her eyes. Stuff your pride, Headmaster, and follow the Scotswoman's lead in this. Forgive Miss Granger before it really does all go to pot!"

"It's not as bad as all that…" he mumbled, aware that it likely was as bad as all that. When Hermione had picked up a pair of emerald and pearl earrings from him last week, she'd looked brittle and battered underneath a robust glamour charm. Despite his anger, he'd wanted to hold her. He'd wanted to protect her. And he'd done none of those things; Severus had walked away from her.

"What did her note say?"

Snape didn't have to uncrumple the note to recite her brief message. "Bring the Jet and King Ruby Necklace'. Nothing else."

Black cocked his head. "That is the crown jewel of the Prince collection. Why do you think that she is choosing to wear that piece tonight? For fun? Because it matches her outfit? Not bloody likely. She's hunting tonight, and you'd better be there at her side."

Snape turned away, raking a hand through his hair, his thoughts and emotions rapidly seesawing. Was Black correct about matters coming to a head tonight? Was it worth it to try and mend fences with Granger? Could she ever forgive him? Did he even want her to?

In a voice far more sympathetic, Black said, "Go do your job, Severus, before all you are left with is regrets."

The hell of it, Hermione thought, was that despite everything, she still wanted Snape.

His inner rage had only magnified his charisma, and when he stared at her from across the room, it was like being bathed in a blast of pure sensuality. Bastard that he was, Snape had no compunction about using her body's awareness against her. Indeed, he used his weapons well over the weeks, whether it be a hidden hand brushing lightly on her hip, or a whispered comment, voice sliding over her skin like silk. It left her on edge for a variety of reasons.

Hovering at the edges of her mind were the memories of being held with exquisite tenderness, of a man worshipping her with his entire being, and the look of complete surrender as Severus came. It was those memories, more than anything, that prompted her to avoid the Headmaster as much as possible. If those recollections were agony to her, they had to feel even worse to him.

I just need to get through this night, Hermione reminded herself bracingly. Just a few more hours, and this whole wretched mess will all be over…

As if divining the nature of her thoughts, Snape appeared at her side for their customary dance. She hadn't told him that tonight was the night, but a certain edginess in his lean frame indicated that he had a fair idea of what was going on.

"We need to speak," he murmured near the end of the waltz, black eyes firmly fixed on her.

"Tonight isn't good," she whispered back, keeping her smile sultry. She could feel other eyes on her and knew that she was being watched carefully; the sensation made her skin crawl. Evil was in this ballroom, and it was stalking her.

"I don't care. It's important." His hand tightened on hers in clear warning. Snape manoeuvred them near a dark hallway, and when the music ended, dragged her down it. Opening a door, he pushed her into a deserted library.

Stepping back from the glowering man at her side, Hermione composed her expression, trying to hide the fact that her heart had started to pound at his nearness. Anticipation curled through her, and Hermione wondered what it said about her own character that she welcomed- was turned on be- any attention from Severus, even if he was furious at her. Not again, she thought as her nipples crinkled, wondering how many times that she would be doomed to repeat the same mistakes from loneliness and need over and over again.

"What is it?" she asked, voice scrupulously neutral.

Snape watched her for a long moment before speaking. "There have been some anomalies at Hogwarts."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, hands going to hips desire transmuting to anger. "Just what sort of anomalies are we talking about? And how long have you known about them?"

"Three days," he bit out defensively. "And so far, it's nothing conclusive. There have been higher incidences of illnesses among the pure-blood and half-blood students since the middle of last year. It could be coincidence brought on by differences in health care systems and upbringings-"

"But you don't think that is?

"No. I've done the arithmancy myself."

Fuck! "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Because I had only faint suspicions until three days ago, and I didn't think that you would care!"

The bald sentiment was a slap in the face, and it hurt badly. "Do you really think so little of me, Snape? Do you really think that I would just stand by as more innocent school children are hurt by the insane delusions of adults?"

He looked away. Infuriated, Hermione reached out and grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Do you really think that poorly of me?" she demanded again, wanting to squeeze his jaw with enough force that his brain popped out the other side.

"No," Snape finally whispered. "No, I don't. I just don't want to face the fact that once again children under my protection are being hurt and I am powerless to stop it."

His admission was the closest to human as she'd seen in weeks, and it took the head off her anger in one fell swoop. She dropped her hand. "How serious are the illnesses?"

"So far, there have only been more cases pneumonia and bronchitis than usual. Poppy has successfully treated everyone, but that doesn't mean that she will always be able to do so if matters continue progressively worsen."

"No, it doesn't… is there anything else I need to know about?"

"The Matriarch of the Hogwarts House-Elves came to speak with me. Elves in the service of pure-blood families are dying in extremely high numbers."

"Of course," Hermione murmured, the picture abruptly becoming clearer. "Since the House-Elves are directly tied to household bloodlines, it would make sense that they take the brunt of it at first, and once they have all died, it would transfer to the humans of the house…"

"Talking about the state of your household help isn't really done in these circles," Snape confirmed. "And a house-elf dying unexpectedly is a sign of bad luck on the House. Hence the reason you likely haven't heard anything about it."

"No," she agreed, moving towards the door as she started to reassess her plans in light of his new information. "Anything else?"

Snape shook his head mutely.

Hermione took a deep breath in, gathering her thoughts. "I need you to go and tell Terence all this immediately. It's important that he knows."

Dark eyes focused on her, for once not full of rage. "Granger, what is wrong? What is it that you aren't telling me?"

"Nothing," she said crisply, lying her ass off. She had to get out of here and make her way to the orangery to wait for her foe before it all went to hell.

He didn't believe her denial and closed the gap between them instantly. "What is wrong?"

For one moment, she let herself think that maybe he cared about her, that his questions were about her wellbeing and not the case. But the weight of reality quickly crushed that dream, and she couldn't quite disguise her bitterness.

"What's wrong? Besides the obvious?" The gonging of a clock interrupted her. It was half-past ten, and she knew that she didn't dare linger in this room much longer. The last thing she wanted was to put Snape in more danger than he already was. "You've made your feelings clear enough, Snape. Go and tell Terence what you've told me. This will all be over soon enough."

His face twisted, black eyes a riot of conflicting emotions. "'This will be over soon enough?' That's all you are going to say? Do you have any idea what you have done to me, witch?"

"Nothing you haven't returned a thousand times over!" she hissed, infuriated that he dared to bring the personal in at such a moment.

"You lied to me!" he shouted back, and she could feel the antagonism rolling off him.

"Yes, to save your sorry hide! And I gave you every speck of truth that I could that night-"

"And I am also supposed to believe that your display of lust wasn't a ploy?" Snape interrupted with a sneer.

It was all too much. Yanking him by his robes, Hermione pulled herself into his heat and rose on her tiptoes. "Yes!"

Hermione lunged forward and kissed Severus, letting her need and anxiety drive the moment. Three weeks of fear and heartbreak, not to mention a lifetime's worth of loneliness came flooding out. He met her halfway, and she tasted his rage and betrayal, as well as the cost of his long-held isolation. At last, they spoke the same language, finding common ground as their tongues swirled and sparred.

"Is this all some sick game to you?" he hissed, pulling back abruptly. It was less of a question and more of a demand. "Or do you really want me?"

Panting heavily, Hermione looked up him, letting him see everything of her battered soul. "Yes. I want you."

His eyes glittered with a strange black fire, and when his hands reached for her neck, Hermione flinched. Fingers sliding over the heavy jet of the necklace, Severus swiftly undid the clasp and pulled it from her superheated skin. Hermione stared at him with confusion.

Holding the necklace away from his body, he dropped it onto the ground with deliberate distaste. "Mine," he rumbled. "This isn't about any stolen jewels...Right here, right now, you are mine."

He bent and dragged his lips over the exposed skin of her neck and then breasts, sparks chasing over her skin. Head falling back, Hermione moaned, caressing the silk of his black hair. His hands found her waist, and he picked her up; in less than a second, her back was hitting a wall, and his hips were grinding into hers with wicked intent.

"We can't," she gasped, quivering at the shameless stroke of his tongue in the vale between her breasts. "It's too risky!"

"I don't give a damn," he replied gruffly, breath washing over her breasts in hot exhalations. Gathering her against his rock-hard body, he kissed her again. "This isn't about anything but us…"

Panic mingling with desire, Hermione fought to keep her head. But her body was helpless against his demanding hands, and Severus pulled roughly at her dress. In no time at all, his palms hit her stockings and then slid over the bare skin of her thighs. She gasped as his fingers glided between her legs, pillaging and fondling her soft mound until she writhed with desperation.

"Severus… not now… if someone finds us…" she panted weakly, body straining towards him in direct contradiction to her words. "Later-"

"No." It was his turn to groan as he discovered how wet she was, a single digit slowly penetrating her slippery channel. "You wanted it fast, that first time. You wanted me to pound you into that mattress like the naughty girl you are… Shall I fuck you against this door right now? Make you scream so loud that everyone knows exactly what we are doing in here? Make sure that everyone knows that you are mine?"

Hermione met his intense stare, shivering at the possessive tone.

"Yes!" she whimpered, finally breaking.

Removing his hand, Severus fumbled with the fastenings of his trousers. Her knickers seemed to vanish of their own accord. Then he was urging her legs to twine around his hips, and she felt the heated press of his erection. Pressing her against the door, he flexed his core, and they both moaned at the sensation of slick flesh meeting.

The fear of discovery only heightened her senses, magnifying her need until she thought that she would burst into flame. Hermione deepened their kiss again, opening to him eagerly, desperate for his possession. His erection nudged against her insistently, all hot hardness and silken length, her hips jerking in an instinctive movement to accommodate him. Pushing more strongly, Severus entered her in one deep, sure thrust.

Hermione groaned as he filled her completely, body clamping tightly around the delicious invasion. One of his hands grasped her knee from beneath, urging her leg higher against his, and he pushed more strongly within her before withdrawing, setting a brutal pace.

She shuddered, her body clenching around his shaft, fire skating up her spine. Their clothes rustled together, crushed velvet and fine wool separating skin everywhere except where his cock drove into her heated core. She arched her back harder against the door, her body rising joyfully to meet his with each upward drive.

Utterly overcome, Hermione no longer cared about the risk, conscious only of the ecstasy of his flesh joined to hers. Muttering 'mine,' fiercely into the curve of her neck, he thrust faster, harder, creating silken friction. Each stroke made the ball of inescapable heat at her centre swell, and just as she thought she would blackout, a scalding orgasm washed over her. Smothering her hoarse cries with his mouth, Severus buried himself inside her a final time. His large body shook with the force of his violent release, and his groan rolling across her damp skin like thunder.

They remained fused together in the pulsing aftermath, breathing harshly, while his mouth moved gently over her slender neck in a series of tender kisses. Hermione tasted alluringly sweet and salty, and he longed to strip her completely and suckle every inch of her body until she surrendered to him once more.

Finally pulling away when his back threatened to give out, Severus grunted slightly as he took her full weight, stepping back from the door. Stumbling slightly, he turned them towards a long, low settee, making it to the leather seat without dumping her to the floor like a graceless clod.

Withdrawing from her body, he performed a cleansing spell over both of them and laboriously tucked himself back into his trousers. Her knickers were nowhere to be seen, and giving them up for a lost cause, pulled her black dress down and her into his lap. She didn't resist, curling up in his arms limply.

Feeling dazed, Severus could think of nothing to say.

The sound of nails clicking across the wooden floor caused him to look up. A crup had entered the library from the opposite door, and Severus belatedly wondered if the side door had been open the entire time. Merlin, but have really turned into a piss poor spy...

The black and white dog wandered closer, something in the stubby-legged gait striking him as odd. Mechanical, even. In his arms, Hermione stiffened, and a terrible sense of unease came over him.

Then the crup growled menacingly, and Severus saw that its eyes were glowing red.

Both of their wands came out in a flash.

The beast stopped, body vibrating with malevolence as it stared them down. From the shadows, seven more crups emerged, double tails wagging with vicious, gleeful excitement.

Hermione slid off his lap and onto her feet, fiddling with her bracelet oddly. He rose as well, keeping a hand on her hip and wondering what the hell she was up to.

"What is this?" he asked softly, half knowing the answer already.

Granger was composed as she silently summoned the Prince necklace to her from where it had been lying on the carpet. "Sir Edward?" she called in a conversational voice. "I do believe I have something that you want, but you are going to have to come out of the shadows to get it."

The balding, stooped-shouldered wizard came into the room, a wand pointing back at them.

"You mudbloods are always so brash and overconfident," he said with distaste, eyeing the necklace dangling from Hermione's fingers. "But that is down to breeding, isn't it?"

"And pure-bloods are almost always inbred, idiotic bigots," Hermione returned sweetly. "Alas, the game is up, Montblanc-Rowle. Put down your wand if you want to make to Azkaban alive."

The older man laughed nastily. "Oh, I don't think so, you filthy little whore. You'll not be giving me orders in my own manor. You hand over the necklace, and I won't make you suffer too much before I kill you."

Without waiting for an answer, he flipped a purple bolt of lightning in their direction; it smacked into their combined shield spells with a wet hiss and shower of sparks. In the resulting silence, Severus could hear the faint strains of music and laughter coming from the ballroom.

Montblanc-Rowle inched closer, the crups mirroring his movement and forming a half-circle around them.

Hermione nodded slowly. "That's how you gained access to all of the houses. The crups."

"You're a clever slag, I'll give you that," Montblanc-Rowle sneered. "Yes, my precious crups are found in every pure-blood household in Britain. They are the most fashionable familiar, after all, and everyone recognises the superiority of my breeding lines. But they don't recognise my superiority, even though I have the purest lineage of anyone. Even the dirty Muggle Queen calls me Sir, but this selfish, ignorant lot? No, I am nothing but a joke to them. Sir Edward and his prized crups! But the joke is on them, isn't?" He chuckled, crooked teeth flashing. "Easy enough to spell a crup at birth for possession, and when people are foolish enough to make them familiars, I can use that magical bond to get through household wardings without issue."

He withdrew a tangled, glittering mass from his robes. With mounting horror, Snape realised that it was all of the jewellery that had been stolen, fused together by an act of dark magic. "And now, I have these… blood-tied magical stones from almost every family. They will recognise my dominance, or they will die in enormous amounts of pain."

Throughout the madman's rambling monologue, it was an effort for Severus to remain passive. Given that she had apparently known the identity of the thief, it stood to reason that Hermione had a plan. Still, his fingers itched and wondered if he could get away with casting some latent protective spells around them as the fool babbled on.

As if sensing his intent, the crups came nearer, one perilously close to his ankle.

Do I chance kicking it away?

"Such dirty, nasty thoughts, Headmaster," Montblanc-Rowle called in a singsong voice, jabbing his wand into the jewels and twisting it violently.

His blood—his very magic—seemed to give an odd jangle before an avalanche of intense, electric pain ripped through his nerves, dropping Severus to his knees. The world went grey for a moment, and he didn't even have enough control to draw in breath to scream; after an eternity, the agony ended, and he was left sweating and shaking on the hard floor. He had almost no control over his limbs.

"It's such a pity he's only a dirty half-blood and doesn't get to experience the full effects of the curse. Ms Granger," Montblanc-Rowle continued calmly, "you will give me the necklace or I will kill him right now."

"No," she responded, and magic exploded around them in a ferocious, disorientating thunderclap.

The chaos of the detonating library was like being turned inside out at the same time as hurtling through a floo. Severus felt the wards of the house shatter, and an instant later, a flurry of red-robed figures apparated into the library, wands belching out binding spells as they landed. The crups were suddenly howling along with their master, and each yipping emission sent a bolt of dark magic through the air. The foul curses took out several of the Unspeakables instantly, the metallic tang of blood filling the air. Vaguely, he recognised several of the faces as their hoods fell back in the fight.

Severus had dropped his wand when he had been hit and was frantically scrabbling along the floor for the ebony length, half-hidden under the settee. Hermione was covering him with a shielding spell while also repelling Montblanc-Rowle's furious advance; one of the crups leapt at her, a flash of purple hitting Hermione square in the abdomen. For a moment, she did not falter, and he thought that her shield had dissipated the spell.

But it wasn't to be. Arm coming up to cover her stomach, her face went strangely slack, and she crumpled to the ground. There was blood—a truly massive amount of blood—and he thought he could see something that appeared suspiciously like intestines leaking out of a deep wound.

A broad-shouldered, red-robed figure whirled protectively in front of Hermione, throwing out a Reducto that took out half the wall. Montblanc-Rowle finally went down. Hermione didn't even twitch.

No… Nononono…. Not again!

Severus' fingers finally closed around his wand, and he lurched towards Hermione's still form… only to be confronted with a glowing tip of a wand.

"Obliva-" he heard someone roar, and with a superhuman effort, spun himself into an Apparition and towards the sanctuary of Hogwarts.

Hitting the floor of the Head's office, Severus blacked out.

A.N.~ Any thoughts, dear readers? ;)

As always, my most sincere thanks to everyone who is continuing to follow this story, and hugs to luv4edwardcullen, maritinkerbell, ForsakenKalika, Daphne, JM2010, ZoeyOlivia, pgoodrichboggs, RubyFiddlesticks, Silvermary as well as several guests for leaving comments.

Happy reading!