Two chapters to go

Hermione swept a decreasing spell over her dress and the smooth warmth of the refreshed cotton fell against her legs. Was that easier? It seemed...but she couldn't concentrate on what Severus had given her—

She breathed. In and out. Focused only on that, because the roiling pain of her time with him being done, finished churned in her belly and threatened to riot over her.

She'd escaped to Severus' en suite with her bundle of clothes and fell back against the shut door. Cleaning charms applied, she slipped into her knickers and pulled on her bra. Her dress followed. And now she stood before a gleaming white sink. Fading sunlight was a glow of colour through the long stained glass window. Blues and reds and golds limned her reflection in the mirror set above the sink.

Did she look different? An awakened witch?

Hardly.

Her hair was a tangled mess of curls, her cheeks and neck and...and chest a rough and mottled red, and her lips…

Hermione traced a light finger over her kiss-swollen mouth and the light scent of Severus filled her. She swallowed, the pain in her throat tight and sudden.

It was over. Finished with. Done.

Then why did her escape from him feel as if she were tearing her magic in two?

Was that a part of the power invoked by the Earl's codex? Severus didn't seen to be pining for Perenelle Flamel, but then his heart had long been caught by another witch…

Hermione dragged a hand over eyes and groaned. She slumped forward, turned on the tap and splashed water on her face. The cool rush was another distraction.

It was time to go. She couldn't hide in his bathroom forever. She glanced around and huffed a half-laugh. Though it was a very nice bathroom.

Hermione sucked in breath and straightened her shoulders. She would be the non-clingy witch and when she got back to Grimmauld Place, she'd devour that bloody codex from cover to cover. Merlin, she's acted more like Harry, hadn't she? Haring off without all the facts.

But then, the chance to have this wizard for herself. It had been a prize and utter temptation.

Said tempting wizard was buttoning up a fresh shirt as she opened the bathroom door. His hair was a curtain of black silk and the golden light on his pale skin...mesmerised her. Her mouth and fingers had trailed and savoured that chest… Severus Snape was tall and lithe and, gods, she could almost taste the power of him. His magic, burning on the very edges of his body—

"Yes, Hermione?"

Black eyes speared her and his mouth had curled into that dangerous little smirk that tightened her flesh in —now— all the wrong places.

She opened her mouth...and words fled. What could she say?

Thank you? Thank you and I had a lovely afternoon? A marvellous afternoon? We must do this again sometime. Lots of times? Forever. And start now. Take me to bed, Severus. Keep me here. Don't...don't let me go… Please?

Her throat grew tight and her eyes burned. Fuck. She pressed her lips together and willed herself not to cry.

"Here." He lifted his hand and silently, wandlessly summoned a small vial. "For those deflowering aches and pains."

A bark of sharp laughter broke from her, but she bit the inside of his cheek as his fingers brushed against hers in handing over the potion. Her magic swirled, thickened and the ache for it to rise, to find his magic and wrap around him made her heart pound. "Thank you." It was dry, half-strangled and she cleared her throat, before taking the potion. It eased through her, formed under his hand and by his magic and it was a torment. She vanished the vial. "Will...will you be at the Order meeting?"

Gods, she wanted him to say yes. Perhaps, he would miss her? Or she could simply make a complete fool of herself and fling herself at him?

Those all-seeing eyes fixed on her. "I couldn't get a reason out of Minerva why we should gather."

And she wouldn't tell him it was likely that Ron was going to make an idiot of himself and propose. She didn't want him to intrude on any of her final moments with Severus. But Merlin, maybe idiocy was catching? "I'll be there for the food, then escape to the library."

His head tilted. "I see."

Hermione held back a frown. What? What did he see?

Severus stepped back and her magic strained to follow him, her wild hair a shifting cloud. His gaze flicked over its writhing mass as she tried to pull it into some kind of order. She wanted to believe it was a little bit of affection in the endless dark. Needed to. And gods, what did he see? The man was infuriating.

The wards...twitched, a thrum of magic that caressed her own. "I have shifted the wards. You can leave from here." He nodded his head, his hair a swing of black silk. "Good day. Hermione."

"Good…?"

Her focus snapped around her and before the sob caught in her throat could escape, she committed her magic. Her last image, before she disapparated, was of narrowed black eyes—

—then she was stumbling over a plant pot in the wild stretch of garden to the back of 12 Grimmauld Place.

Her legs almost gave out, but she willed herself upright.

She'd find that bloody codex and scour every last inch of it. Something had to explain why her magic, whilst stronger, thick and heavy in her flesh, felt…tattered. Torn. Was it simply growing pains and the raw edges would soften and heal? Severus would've known…

But he couldn't get her out of his bedroom fast enough, could he?

"Hermione, caught the sun?"

Harry sat on the backstep, with a white-spotted kneazle kitten on his lap. It butted its little brown head against his negligent fingers and he scritched between its large, fur-tipped ears.

Gods, she had to look a mess if Harry had noticed, and stopped her hand from covering her throat or pushing down the wildness of her hair. She deflected. "Escaping with Custard?"

"Quiet time. And it's nice to simply…sit with a cuddle-fiend like this." His mouth quirked upwards and Harry looked…happy. A man just turned nineteen. One calm and without a care in the world, except for the attention of the deeply purring kneazle kitten in his lap. Then he went and ruined it. "You'd feel less stressed if only you'd agree to Ron—"

"Stop." Her hand snapped up. "Right there. No. None of that today, Harry James Potter."

Harry's lips pinched together in something reminiscent of Molly Weasley. "You're leading him on."

Hermione blinked and stared at her friend. How many times could a woman turn down a ginger idiot before he —and his friends and family— got it through their thick skulls that she had Ron was a bad idea? But she wasn't going to argue with him. Harry wanted everything neatly packaged. Him and Ginny. Her and Ron. All standing together on Platform 9 3/4s in some far distant future waving of their progeny, set on their way to Hogwarts.

And there was a glaring problem right there, wasn't it?

Hermione pushed down the fresh rise of old pain and shook her head. "No, no and thrice, no." She twitched him a sour smile. "Have fun with Custard."

"Hermione…?"

But she was past him and striding into the long, dark kitchen.

The codex. She had to focus on that to chase away old and new pain.

And the second attic was just has she left it the day before. Thick with dust and cobwebs, clutter and mouldy school trunks. Her nose twitched at the clogged air and she flicked a spell, cleansing her path to the hidden and warded book.

She would settle and read and find out what she had committed herself to.

Severus could turn up to the meeting. And maybe he wouldn't. But she would…cope. Move on. Fix her priorities.

She simply needed to read the codex and everything…everything would be fine.

With an ease that pricked at her fingers, she lifted the wards on the dark little corner where she'd stashed the book. The tip of her wand shone bright, illuminating cracked plaster, split floorboards and silvered threads of ancient cobwebs…but no leather-backed tome.

"No…"

It was half-strangled and Hermione was on her knees, sweeping her hand over the floor, the walls, tossing aside a crate and broken toys, that whined with faded magic.

It had to be there. It had to be.

She had to have the written proof that the churning pain, the raw tatters of her magic would heal. That she would…

She curled over into a ball and clutched her knees, welcoming the bite of pain. He didn't want her. And she wouldn't —wouldn't— force herself on him. She had to be his free choice.

Now, with the book whisked away to its next victim, she wouldn't know that she'd…she'd get over him.

It was insanity to be so caught by Severus Snape. A bastard by his own admission. A thoroughly dark wizard. But funny. And Merlin, clever and quick and…and deft. Her teeth ground together. A crush and their exchange. That's all it was. It shouldn't slice at her heart.

But gods, her absence from him, hurt.

Hermione crushed her eyes shut and let the tears fall as her heart…shattered.