(Disclaimer: see beginning)

Hello again! I know its been a while since I've last updated, but I'm still having trouble with Doc manager. So until I can get that fixed well :/

to Inthesouth: You're welcome! I'm glad I could clear that up and I welcome any questions!

Any who, this chapter hasn't been beta read yet, but it will at a later date. Until then, if you see any errors, let me know.

Thanks to my betas McGonagall's Bola and Emilia Wolfe

and as always, please take the time to share your comments! They keep me writing :)

Chapter 15

Severus stared at the small metal container on his desk. His fingers drummed an impatient rhythm on its surface. Behind him, a potion was simmering, moments away from being complete. There was just one last ingredient to add, and then he would be ready to do the ritual.

He flipped the lid open again to glance at the dead heart inside. There was no blood smearing the inside of the box, no unsightly drips leaking from the corners or repulsive bits of flesh slipping down the side. There were no puncture wounds, slashes, or tears that he could catch with his sharp eyes either. The veins and arteries that had been attached to it were clinically cut in clean lines that spoke of years of practice and a steady hand.

On the whole, this delicate culmination of tissue were in such pristine condition that it nearly looked unreal.

There was only one problem with it─IT was a HUMAN heart.

His issue had nothing to do with any squeamishness. In his line of work it was impossible to be so. Especially when one had to work with various other organs, some just as unsavory as this. Sheep Brains, Doxie Skin, Rat Spleens, and Lizard Eyeballs. He'd been elbow deep in plenty of these things and more, with little difficulty.

Yet, the idea of a human heart sitting on his desk was extremely unsettling. Perhaps it was because the concept of treating his fellow man as nothing more than a tool to be used and discarded, felt wrong. So very wrong. Add to that, the fact that there was no going back after using vital organs like these. It wasn't like blood or hair, or even teeth, which could all be easily grown back with magic. The minute you took someone's heart out or their liver, that was it. The repercussions of your actions would permanently etch their way into your life and psyche.

Even in his younger years, when he had still been blindly wrapped up in the propaganda of the Death Eaters, he hadn't liked the idea of using ingredients like this. It had always seemed like a step too far into the dark.

He remembered the first time that he had been forced to make a potion that required human parts for Voldemort. The minute he had left the Dark Lord's presence, the contents of his stomach had poured out of his mouth, and he had been shaking and cursing his stupidity. He had had nightmares for days after that, thinking about the poor victims that had died for him.

Because make no mistake, he was the reason they had died. He could've found other potions to make for the Dark Lord, could've experimented or found loopholes like he had at school, so that he wouldn't have to use the vile ingredients, but he didn't. He had kept his head down, obeyed Voldemort, accepted the bloody packages that were given to him without a word, and for that, blood stained his hands.

His grip tightened on the container's lid. Even with his distaste for it, he had done it again a few times after, to appease the Dark Lord. His own fear for his life, stronger than his horror.

Pathetic.

With the memories of his younger years a bitter taste on his tongue, he glared at the heart, hating the fact that he was going to wade back into such dangerous waters again, and hating that he knew it was absolutely necessary.

There was no way he could tweak the potion this time. There were no substitutes, or short cuts. The ritual for freeing someone from a Soul Book was just as dark and…repugnant as the ritual for binding someone. A heavy price needed to be paid, and on this account that price was human flesh. Specifically a human heart. The directions were very clear on that matter.

The only good thing about this whole situation was that it wasn't necessary for the heart to be ripped out in a sacrifice. Most dark wizards or witches went about getting the vital organ that way, to be sure─but it wasn't necessary. The ritual just called for a heart, not death.

Which made his stolen heart, slightly less nauseating to use than a heart gotten by…darker means. No, he knew his contact would never stoop to such levels. It was more likely that somewhere in England, there was a morgue that had been broken into and a cadaver that was one organ less now. The thought, still unappealing, but less so, soothed some of his frayed nerves.

Behind him, the clock struck nine o'clock. He got up to check on his potion, and was pleased to see that it was the proper shade of grey he had been searching for. Grabbing the metal container off his desk, he allowed the heart to fall in. Immediately, red smoke rose from the cauldron in a noxious cloud. The smell of it was so cloyingly sweet that Severus nearly gagged on it.

Soon, but not soon enough for his liking, the smoke died down, leaving a clear smooth liquid behind. The potion was done. Scooping out a spoonful and pouring it into a glass vial, he placed the rest of the potion on stasis to save for later. Checking his robe pocket with a quick pat, he made sure the incantation for the spell was still in there, and was satisfied when he heard the telling crinkle of paper. He separated a couple strands of Granger's hair out from the small sample the House Elf had managed to get him and added it to the pocket for the spell as well.

Now all he had to do was find the book that was responsible for this whole mess. An easy feat, if Miss Granger could help him.

His hands were already going through the process of completing the spell for Astral Projection next. The supplies for it were already set up beside his cauldron, so he could seamlessly move onto his next task. Again, he cut his palm, squeezing the blood to the surface so that it could drench the last of Granger's hair in his fist. Once the mixture was lit, it took no time at all for the smoke to rise and for the familiar sensations of Astral travel to take him over. He soared from his body and onto the allusive plane.

Surprisingly, his trip seemed to be over much faster this time around. In fact, he would say that the trip only took a fraction of the time it did his first visit. His spirit form came to a stop in front of the boundary separating him from Miss Granger. With a firm hand, he pushed at the wall, once again shocked that it gave little resistance. More than a little confused and suspicious, he easily slipped inside, his senses already alert for trouble.

"Miss Granger?" he called out, his eyes searching across the Black Lake and the pebbled shore. There was something different about this place. Something was off─no, that wasn't right. It was the fact that nothing was as 'off' as it had been the last time he was here that wasn't right. Last time, there had been a certain feeling of wrongness. The water had perhaps been too bright, the sky an unrealistic shade of teal. It was the little things that made this world seem so…abnormal.

Now, however, there was no alien feeling lingering in the air, no oddities, nothing to tell him that he was actually in another world, outside of his own. It looked and felt like he was standing beside the Black Lake back at Hogwarts, and that, for all its pleasant appearances, did not bode well.

"Miss Granger?" his voice rang out again, with a touch more authority. His eyes instantly went to the boulders where he had seen her last, but she wasn't there.

"Professor?"

He swiveled around to find Miss Granger patiently standing behind him, only a few steps away. He was pleased to note that he was completely prepared to see her this time, thus his body didn't so much as give a twitch of recognition.

He was also equally pleased to note that the young woman had managed to quell her impulse to jump onto people this time around. Lesson learned, she was instead standing sedately in front of him. Her light brown eyes seemed to widen momentarily in surprise, as they flicked over him, but that was the extent of her reaction.

She gave him a nervous, yet friendly smile. She's probably still trying to adjust her eyesight on the Astral Plane. Typical over-achiever.

Severus stepped forward. "Miss Granger, I'm glad you finally deigned to answer my summons. I have several things I need to go over with you, but first, I need to know; did something occur in the Book since the last time I was here?"

His eyes narrowed when the witch began fidgeting. His voice came out as a dangerous purr. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe the last time we were here, I DID instruct you not to meddle with anything. Did I not?"

Her throat contracted, as she audibly gulped. Her feet shuffled back to create space between them. "Well," she started, "I thought you were talking about going back into the forest. Besides─" her head raised defiantly "─Fera deserves to find a way out for herself as well. It's not just me that's in trouble. If anything, she deserves to get out more than I do."

Ah, and there's the headache I feared would come. Long, calloused fingers rubbed at the sharp pain growing at his temples. "Miss Granger, while I regret that I can't assist your friend as well, I have already explained Miss Rosier's situation to you," he commented, completely exasperated.

"I can't accept that!" she argued. There was a desperation in her eyes, as she silently pleaded with him to understand. "And just look!" Her arm swept back, directing his eye to their transformed surroundings. "We believe that THIS is because the barrier between our worlds is thinning. Which mean she's close, really close to finding the answer. THIS is progress and that can't be a bad thing!"

"There are consequences for everything, Miss Granger, and while it seems for the moment that everything is roses, you don't know what kind of backlash that will occur now. Need I remind you, that you are dealing with a sentient magical object, that WILL fight back." He sneered, quickly losing his patience with the obstinate Gryffindor. Yes, he understood that she was just trying to help her friend, and he couldn't fault her concern or determination, but at the end of the day the girl knew nothing about Soul Books or dark magic. If she did, then she wouldn't be looking at her friend's situation with such hopeful naivety.

Because anyone who dabbled in the dark arts long enough, learned the cardinal rule of black magic very quickly. There were always consequences and steep prices to be paid.

Despite his words, Granger crossed her arms, stubbornly glaring at him. "You can't discount the fact that our experience with the Soul Book is entirely unprecedented. I'm not suggesting that there won't be repercussions, but there is a chance that they won't be as doom and gloom as you're assuming."

Doom and gloom? He looked at the witch incredulously. "Seeing as you are not a Dark Arts expert and I am, I would think you would listen to what I have to say on the subject." His eyebrow twitched in irritation. Really, who did this witch think she was?

"I'm not an expert, no, I'll concede to that point, but Fera is. And, as you know, she's had more than enough time to learn everything there is to know about Soul Books."

If her chin were jutting out any more he'd be looking at her throat, and, oh, how tempted he was to strangle it. Albus would eventually forgive him, he was sure of it. He wasn't above bribing the older man with sweets to look the other way.

"And, are you so sure that she's been telling you everything? Tell me, Miss Granger, if you were in her position, would you be entirely forthcoming about all of the negative side effects that were sure to occur when experimenting with the Dark Arts? Especially if you were desperate to leave? Or would you keep them to yourself, so you wouldn't worry your friend needlessly?"

His words were cruel, but they were the truth, and she needed to hear them. More importantly though, he needed to redirect the conversation back to the original purpose. This conversation was only driving his temper up and he had no desire to keep arguing in circles with the mule-headed chit.

"Regardless," he snapped, when she moved to open her mouth again, "what's done is done. And you won't be around to deal with any of the consequences."

This caused Miss Granger to pause, her frustration slowly leaking away. "Do you mean you have everything set to get me out?"

He nodded briskly. "Indeed. I only need to know where you found the book, so I can complete the ritual."

There was a second pause, as she bit into her lip. His eyes were flickered to the abused lip, and he had to fight the urge to snap at her and get her to stop the distracting habit. And then she was talking, and he was focused once more.

"Oh…there might be a problem with that."

A tired sigh left his lips. Of course there was a problem. Why should any part of this be easy? "And what problem would that be?" he asked, pinching his nose to stem away the headache that was still steadily beating against his skull.

The look she gave him was an odd mixture of bashfulness and aggravation, though it was fleeting and quickly replaced with intense concentration. "The problem is that when I was lead to the room, I was in a─I guess you can call it a trance-like state. So, I didn't pay attention to where I was going, or where I was. Then the second time I went down, I wasn't really paying attention then either."

"How could you not pay attention the second time? Were you in a trance again?"

"No, but I was chasing after my cat, and was more focused on catching up to him than tracking my footsteps."

"You followed your cat." The words were said slowly, without emotion.

"Well, yes I─that's it! You can follow Crookshanks! He'll show you the way to the room just like he showed me." The smile she sent towards him was so bright and excited, as if she had just struck gold, and he just stared.

"You want me to ask your cat for directions."

"Well, Crooks isn't just an ordinary cat, you know. He's half-Kneazle, and much smarter than your average cat. You shouldn't have any trouble finding him. He has shaggy, orange-red fur, and usually hangs out in either my room or the courtyard."

Severus' mouth twitched in displeasure, but he nevertheless agreed. His only other option was wandering the castle and hoping to come upon the right room. So, following around a cat couldn't be that much worse. "Fine. I'll follow your bloody cat." He was already walking down the beach and tugging on his Astral tether, when he turned back to bark out one last command. "And for fuck's sake, don't do ANYTHING else!"

Hermione watched her professor disappear in a wisp of glowing light, still astonished that she had heard him curse. She had seen him lose his composure before, the incident with Sirius immediately came to mind, but that had to be the first time she had ever heard such harsh words flow from the man's lip.

It seemed today was just a day for surprises.

Probably at the top of that list of surprises, was the startling picture Professor Snape had portrayed today. Or perhaps she should admit that his appearance had probably always been the same. The difference was more in Hermione's view of him.

Aside from the addition of a deep red glowing halo around his body, he had been dressed as she always remembered, in a black frock coat and thousands of buttons, his black hair hung loose and parted down the center. It was all the same, except it wasn't.

Her memory of him, glued into her mind from the first time she saw the formidable man her first year, was a culmination of her fear from his imposing presence and a desperation to fit in. To eagerly accept the mocking whispers of her peers, and allow them to distort his image into something that was so far past reality that he became almost cartoonish.

In her young mind, he had become a scarecrow thin man, with skin that was paler than moonlight, eyes that were beady and so bruised that it looked as if they were ringed with black paint. His hair had become so lanky and greasy that each strand looked like a slick piece of string, and his nose─God his nose─had become so large and hooked that it took up the majority of his face.

A cruel approximation of his appearance, but children were often cruel in their flustering naivety, and Hermione wasn't particularly ashamed of that. What kind of child didn't indulge in a bit of exaggeration? What child hadn't looked at a tall man and immediately conjured images of him being so tall that his head touched the clouds? Or looked at a larger woman, in a stuffy dress suit and compared her to a balloon?

No, that was just the natural perception of a child, who looked at the world in simple shapes and colors, often with a touch of whimsical imagination. There was nothing wrong with that. However, she was embarrassed that she had let that image of her professor superimpose itself over her vision for so many years, and to such a point that seeing him without it had been a shock.

Which it most definitely shouldn't have been. She shouldn't have been shocked that Professor Snape's hair, though oily, wasn't nearly as grease-ridden as she remembered, or that his skin, while pale, was an even tone of ivory and not a ghostly white. Nor should she have been surprised that his eyes weren't little black beads, but deep black orbs surrounded by thick fans of dark eyelashes, or that he actually had nice cheekbones, and small, but full lips. Most importantly, she should have known better than to expect his larger nose to be the caricature that she had created for him when she was younger.

Basically, she should have never been so astonished to see her professor as an actual human being.

Inevitably, this clearer picture of Professor Snape, made her wonder who else she had cartoonified. Were Harry's glasses really as big as she remembered them? Was Ron's hair as bright red? What about Professor Flitwick─was he as diminutive and was his voice as squeaky? Was Draco as nasty? How many people had she not been paying attention to? How many changes had she missed?

Fera had once told her, that she was as blind and unobservant as a bat scrambling around in the sun, and apparently she had been right.

She had gone through school with a single-mindedness, only focused on her grades and keeping Harry alive. She had never looked away from her task to take in the changes that were continuously evolving around her. With the constant buzz of school, Harry, Voldemort, attacks, parents, distracting her, she had forgotten to take a step back, to allow herself to breathe and properly grow.

Except now she had had the opportunity. The Soul Book, the terror and blessing in disguise all wrapped up in one, had given her the space she needed, the fresh outlook she had needed to settle into her maturity. (Though Fera would no doubt argue against that).

The book was evil, an abomination that had destroyed a lot of innocent people─and once she got herself and Fera out of here, she was going to burn this book to high Hell─but it had also given her many things that she would forever be thankful for. Perhaps she would give it a quick 'thank you' before she reduced it to ash.

A sudden pain in her shoulder, like she was being prodded with a blunt instrument, snapped her out of her thoughts. Looking around, she realized that she was still lingering on the Astral Plane and had been for quite some time. Longer than she had meant to be. Already, her previously distracted body was feeling the pull of the in-between dimension, and reacting quickly, Hermione cut her tether line, allowing her spirit to plunge straight back into her waiting body.

With a sharp gasp, Hermione jerked up in her seat, fighting the disorienting effects of body and spirit being reunited so promptly.

"I can sympathize with your pain, my dear, but you should not have lingered on the Astral Plane. It is very risky business."

Blinking, Hermione carefully moved her head to the left, flinching at the prick of pain in her neck. Beside her, Fera was watching her with amusement. In her hand was a half carved wooden wand, which was most likely the culprit behind her shoulder pain.

"I'm well aware, thank you, Fera. I just didn't realize that I was there for so long. How did you even know that I was Astral traveling?"

Giving her a long look, Fera responded, "Actually, I thought you were dead. I assumed it could not hurt to try poking you awake."

"What?!" the younger witch sputtered, then Fear started laughing. Realizing that her mentor was just making fun of her, Hermione poked her back in the shoulder, pressing into the joint with an extra shove. "That─" she poked her again, "was not funny."

Fera shrugged, unashamed. "Tomato, strawberry," she said, butchering the saying without a care.

"It's to-ma-to, to-mah-to," Hermione corrected her instinctually.

"I like the way I say it better. I am not that fond of tomatoes, you know."

"Seriously, how did you really know, though?" Hermione glanced at her curiously.

"Ah, my little bat," Fera grinned at her mockingly, "it was the little things. It is always the little things."

Before, Hermione could attempt to drag out a real explanation, Fera was already heading towards the library's exit, humming to herself quietly. It took only a half second of deliberation for Hermione to decide to follow after her.

"Fera, do you remember when I was talking to you about how it's rude to just walk away from a conversation before finishing it?" Hermione called after the blonde witch, trying to keep up with her ground-eating strides. "Well, this was a perfect example of that!"

The two stopped in front of Fera's bed chambers.

Pausing with her hand on the doorknob, her companion looked at her innocently. "Nonsense, I had nothing further to say. So, the conversation must have ended."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione huffed. "Yes, because you were the only one in that conversation with something to say," she replied sarcastically, but Fera didn't hear. Said woman was already across the room, rummaging through a chest by the foot of her bed. When she turned back to Hermione, she handed her two vials, and a clipped-off braid of her hair

Hermione took them, turning them over in her hand. "What are these?"

"Memories, and some of my hair."

"What?" Hermione's head shot up. "Why are you giving me these?"

Blue eyes looked steadily at her. "Because you are about to leave, are you not?"

"How…"

"You abruptly left our conversation to go to the Astral Plane. It was not hard to make the appropriate connections from there. Someone came for you, yes?"

Unable to speak, Hermione simply nodded.

"As I thought. These memories are all that I have left of my research. They're incomplete, but they should be some help to you, and if you have any further questions, you can use a bit of my hair and summon me to the Astral Plane as well."

Finding her voice, Hermione spoke up. "You know that I won't give up finding a way to get you out. I'll keep searching, and I'll figure out how to send you the ingredients you need, or books, or─or whatever!"

She was rewarded with a warm smile from Fera. "Yes, I know, child. I would expect nothing less from a fool hearty Gryffindor. Now as for my research…You will recall our first conversation on the subject?"

It took only a moment for Hermione to bring the memory forward, even though it was from so long ago the task was easy. Fera made quite an memorable first impression.

"Of course."

There was a small hesitation as Fera chose her words carefully. "Then, you will remember my condition on letting you snoop through my notes…"

"Ah," Hermione replied, finally seeing what her mentor was alluding to. "I agreed to keep the research a secret and to destroy it after Voldemort was defeated," she supplied. "You don't have to worry. I'll keep my promise, but just to show you how serious I am, I'll make a vow."

Lifting her wand in the air, Hermione cleared her throat. The magic of the wizard oath was already thrumming in the air.

"I, Hermione Jean Granger, solemnly swear to destroy all research on the Reservoir Stone after Voldemort is defeated. This includes any notes, journals, experiments, and creations that come from it. I also swear to keep said research private and hidden, only to be shared with those that have been approved by you, Fera."

"Very, well," Fera said, her shoulders visibly slumping in relief.

Had this been anyone else, and had they not been talking about a very dangerous alchemy stone, Hermione might have been insulted by the implied mistrust. But, she understood Fera's concern all too well. The Reservoir Stone was an infinitely dangerous tool that could cause a catastrophe if it fell into the wrong hands. So, she had no problem taking the oath if it would assuage the witch's fears. Fera had done so much for her already that it was the least she could do.

If only there was a way I could thank her. Like really thank her.

An idea struck Hermione then, and before she could change her mind, she turned her wand over, presenting it to Fera. "Here," she said, simply.

Taking the wand, Fera looked at it curiously. "I am afraid I am not following you, my dear. What would you like me to do with your wand?"

"I want you to keep it," Hermione stated, holding her mentor's gaze so she knew that she was being absolutely serious.

"Hermione, I can not take your wand. The offer was lovely, truly, but─"

"I can get another one easily, Fera. You can't. Besides, it's better than playing with those dinky little toy wands you keep carving up."

"Are you still mad about that?" Fera smirked at her.

"No, I just can't believe that I couldn't tell that you had been using a fake wand this entire time. And I will admit, that there are some feelings of inadequacies to deal with as well."

There was a sympathetic pat on Hermione's shoulder. "Ah, well, when your father takes your only means of defense, you adapt swiftly because it is necessary. If it makes you feel better, consider the fact that I have had more time to make my wandless magic appear more…polished, than you."

Waving her hand in dismissal, Hermione brought them both back on topic. "Noted, but that doesn't stop the fact, that you may need a wand one day. So, you might as well keep this one."

Elegant fingers tightened around the handle of the wand. With a shaky, yet heartfelt smile, Fera thanked her. Clearing her throat, she then pointed to the door. "You should go back to the Mirror Room, and wait there."

"You're not coming with me?" Hermione asked, a little stung that her friend didn't want to wish her a goodbye.

"Ah no," Fera said, turning her back on the younger witch to shuffle through the papers on her desk. "I cannot spare a second. Too much work to do, you understand." Her voice cracked a little, but she quickly covered it with an impromptu cough.

Realization struck Hermione. Fera didn't want to go because she didn't want to watch her leave. After she left, the older witch would be stuck here, all by herself again. Her chest tightened at the thought. No wonder she didn't want to deal with goodbyes. If she was in Fera's shoes, she wouldn't want to deal with them either.

Surging forward, Hermione wrapped her arms around her friend in a fierce hug. "Thank you," she whispered into the woman's robes, wrapping the inadequate words in as much gratitude as felt.

With one final squeeze, Hermione walked away. For Fera, she kept her head high and her tears at bay until she was far enough away that the other witch couldn't hear her crying.

"You must be Crookshanks," Snape said without preamble. His face was as impassively smooth as the pug-faced feline that was staring back at him, calmly lying in his favorite armchair, in his sitting room.

To say that Severus was surprised to see the creature patiently waiting for him in his rooms, the minute he left the Astral Plane, was an understatement. Although, he supposed he shouldn't have been that startled. Miss Granger had warned him that hers was not an ordinary cat. Like all magical cats, Kneazles (or half-Kneazles as the case may be) had a bad habit of popping up wherever and whenever they pleased. Kneazles were also known to be one of the few magical creatures that could mysteriously appear whenever they were needed. Like now.

Even knowing that, it didn't make its arrival any less annoying, nor did it stop Severus from clenching his wand instinctively.

A matted tail twitched ever so slightly, as if the cat had heard the thought and did not approve. With a cranky "meow", Crookshanks hopped off the chair, his claws digging slightly into the cushion spitefully as he went.

Severus watched the cat (Crookshanks, was it?) go, through narrowed eyes. Of, course the creature was as annoying as its owner. Why should I have expected anything less? The two probably got along swimmingly.

Gritting his teeth, Severus rushed back into his lab, and snatched the potion up before he hurried after the cat through the open door. Mentally, he reminded himself that he preferred the orange menace over dawdling through the halls mindlessly, and therefore couldn't hex him.

His black eyes traveled over each wall, brick and stone, memorizing the trail he was following. Unlike Miss Granger, he had no desire to be dependent on a cat for anything. Thankfully, the journey didn't seem like it would take too long, as the cat led him to a small stairwell not too far from his classroom. Ducking into the cramped space, he descended into the bowels of the castle, where there was a congested network of tunnels.

They were in a deplorable state. Cobwebs fell from the ceiling in tangled nets, and dust clogged the air. On the ground, puddles of water were everywhere, formed from the murky drops of water leaking through the ceiling.

With a practiced ease, the cat maneuvered his way around the various puddles, shimmying between the groups of water gracefully. At the end of the passage, Crookshanks made a left, slipping into another corridor.

With not nearly as much care, Severus stepped through the maze of puddles, grimacing in displeasure when the ends of his robes dragged through the grimy liquid. Cursing under his breath he walked into the corridor he'd seen the cat go through. It was completely dark, and the only sounds he could hear were the pattering of water dripping and the soles of his shoes scrapping against stone. The sound of a cat running ahead was disconcertingly not present.

That damn cat better not have left me behind.

Silently, he conjured an orb of light to hover over his head. His black eyes combed over the empty tunnel. There was no matted ginger fur in sight.

"Damn!" He stomped down the corridor, pausing when he got to a fork in the path. He looked between the two tunnels before him, his irritation welling at his abandonment. Where was he supposed to go now?

Down the left tunnel, a flash of orange in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he quickly followed it.

At the end of the tunnel, sitting in front of a solid stone wall was the cat. Severus looked around, noticing that there were no other turns, or passageways for them to go through, just the one wall.

The little beast had taken them to a dead end. Perfect.

Sneering down at the animal now sitting calmly at his feet, Severus snapped at him, "I hope you know, your mistress will be receiving a Troll first thing when she gets back, on your behalf."

"Meorw!" Crookshanks, non-too-pleased, swiped at his leg. Snape jumped back before its claws could snag his pant leg.

"Watch it, cat," he bit out. "I can and will hex you into a foot stool."

Ignoring him, the cat turned away, lifting its tail up in the air in a show of indifference. Raising a paw, it pressed it against the wall. There was a shimmer of magic in the air, as the wall transformed into a worn wooden door.

Job complete, the cat shot him a look that practically yelled, it's magic, you simpleton, before it trotted back down the tunnel and away.

"Sassed by a cat. Minerva will never let me live this down," Severus muttered as he pushed open the door, and flicked his wand at the sconces on the wall. A soft glow lit the room.

It wasn't hard to find the book, since it was sitting upon a pedestal in the middle of the room. Had he not been aware of what he was looking at, he would say it was just an ordinary book. No different than any other leather bound tome that could be found in the castle's library. There was nothing to mark it as special. However, there was a certain vibe around it. An aura that tasted of danger and death.

Cautiously, he stepped closer, drawing his wand out. Just in case. He set up several wards in the room and around the book as a precaution. Then, rummaging through his robes, he took out the incantation, the hair and the vial of potion, before he shrugged his robes off, rolled them up and pushed them into a corner and out of the way.

Smoothing down the bent corners of the paper, he looked over the incantation, making sure everything was in order. He ran over each line, humming the tune that went with each word until he was sure that he wouldn't make a mistake.

"Incendio Circulus" he muttered. Fire shot out from the tip of his wand, swirling around him and the book in a fiery ring. With his teeth, he pulled the cork top from the potion and spat it out.

Everything was ready.

With a deep breath, he cleared his mind, counting to ten until he was completely calm and focused. Bringing the paper up to his eyes, he began the incantation. The words, a mixture of old Latin and Goblin, came out harsh and guttural on his tongue.

The book's reaction was immediate. The fire blazed higher like spikes shooting towards the ceiling. It loudly crackled, growing with the power in the air. A hum rose from the book, as inky black tendrils of dark magic leaked from its cursed pages, groping towards him.

With a sharp crack, the book broke open forcefully. A horrifying shriek filled the room, clawing at Severus' eardrums and nearly sending him to his knees. Disoriented, he gripped the pedestal, forcing himself to keep standing. It was almost done…He was almost there.

Throwing the potion onto the book's exposed pages, then the lock of brown hair, he finished the ritual, the last words falling from his lips in a broken growl.

Like an animal wailing in the throes of death, the book let out one last painful screech before it shuddered in defeat. White light engulfed the room, and suddenly a body was flying towards him, falling into his arms with such force that it threw them both to the ground in a heap of limbs.

The blinding light receded, and the book was quiet and sealed shut once more.

Using the last of his strength, Severus pushed his head up and looked at the small body that he was too weak to move off of him. Light brown eyes, partially hidden behind a riot of curls, stared at him in dazed confusion.

"Professor?"

"Welcome back, Miss Granger," was the only thing he could croak out before his head dropped back to the floor and he fell unconscious.

A/N: Okay, and there's another chapter. Hermione finally got a good look at Severus, through the eyes of an adult, she said goodbye to Fera and Severus met Crookshanks. I know usually people write that Crooks takes an immediate liking to Snape, but I thought it would be more fun to have them do a little stand off-that Crookshanks would win of course ;)

Up next: Hermione wakes up and the Order is called for a meeting.

Review!