Disclaimer: Pshah. Nicht mein.

A/N: This chapter was hard to write, but it just came out. It has a lot of back story on Severus. It also had an alternate ending that would turn this whole fic into a dark fic. I'm not capable of writing a dark fic well yet. I'm a sucker for happy endings, and not deciding whether this one will have one is ALREADY killing me! So, please excuse it, and excuse for time to keep skipping around. I can't promise if it will or won't or how long this'll have stuff unexplained. I hope this chapter clears up the Remus/Hermione issues

Enjoy.

Chapter 4:

Severus Snape did what he had known all his life to do: he sat in his room with his curtains pulled shut, to leave him in complete darkness while he stewed. Ever since he was little, he preferred not to show any sort of emotion. When his parents simply insisted that he go to St. Mungo's for an injury, even when he was little, he was the little kid that sat there calm and composed. Even with a cold touch or spell that sent shivers through his body or potion that hurt him, he kept completely shut off and blank from anyone trying to read into his feelings and thoughts. Through different kinds of experiences when he was younger, he learned to keep to himself. He learned the best ways to not let anything get through his rough experience. Years of this had created a tough sort of exterior.

This made befriending anyone almost impossible. He didn't mind in the least, however. He knew he was different than the rest of them were. They were unintelligent and uncivilized. They wanted to play with their brooms that hovered a few feet above the ground. They fawned over pet Puffskeins and fake play wands that allowed them to cast Lumos and spark a few times. He never had a phase where he was like that. At age six, if he remembered correctly (which he did), he had made a well composed speech of the importance of being apt with a wand at an early age. This caused his parents to take him to Ollivander's that weekend.

That's when he bought his wand- the wand he'd had for eleven years now- the wand that he'd done his first spell with- the wand he'd first killed with. He was in the shop for almost nine hours. Even old Ollivander sat stumped as he tried dozens of wand. Each sparked nasty colors in protest, and some even downright exploded. His parents were about to resent and believe he was too young for one when he'd laid his hand on this one. Willow. 13 inches. Asphodel core. He was the only one he knew with this core. He hadn't even been aware it had been a core until he had it.

He had immediately made sure his parents set up magical detection wards around his manor, so that he could practice magic without disturbance. By the time he entered Hogwarts, he was already well armed and had practiced his first unforgivable (albeit on an innocent fly, but nonetheless an unforgivable). He didn't realize that they had been used for anything bad. He was still young and quite naïve. He thought there had to be some practical application- to put someone out of their misery or something. Severus wasn't introduced to evil yet, only to the loneliness he felt and to the closure becoming evil provided.

And then there was Hogwarts itself. The sorting hat fought with him, but in the end could not refuse his request to be put into a house where he would gain power. In Slytherin, he was met with a life choice he could not refuse. To a young man that had only ever known inferior people, to meet cunning people gave him a purpose in life- to do whatever he had to so he could associate with more of these cunning, intelligent people and gain more power.

Then, he had his first muggle raid this summer after he took his mark. He shook the events of that out of his head. He couldn't think about that and wouldn't think about that now. He did know that he was starting to question his decisions. This was mainly due to the little know-it-all brat that invaded his life and space. She was also the one that currently had him brooding in the comforts of his bed. Even when he submitted that he didn't hate her (to himself, because he never would to her), he still despised her and was annoyed by her greatly.

He was, however, both pleased and dismayed to know that she was having as profound of an effect on everyone else as she was on him. Black had stopped trying to curse him and insult him at every chance, submitting to merely glaring and mumbling "Snivellus" under his breath now. Potter had even given him some half-assed attempt at an apology (though he knew that was a combination of Evans's work and Hermione's). Pettigrew showed more and more guilt at every Deatheater meeting held by those still in Hogwarts. Lupin stayed the same.

The thought of Lupin caused him to stiffen up. He was also part of the reason he was now brooding. He couldn't possibly be jealous. He was just bothered. He was bothered at the shy, sick display of affection they had so openly shown at dinner for everyone to see. What were they thinking? Were they thinking that no one had anything better to do than gossip and talk about the new couple that had formed among one of the most known people in the school, James Potter's and Sirius Black's comrade, an infamous Marauder, top marker in the school in a tie with himself and Lily Evans, and a girl that popped out of nowhere, someone who was quickly taken into that same group of the most popular kids, a sharp tongued, gentle girl that quickly lent a helping hand to anyone that had asked her, even if she needed to focus on her own things?

He muttered a spell that undid the barrier he had cast around his bed. He was starting to go into feeling sorry for himself, and he could not allow himself to do that. So, he walked through the darkness of the room and down to the dimly lit corridor into a fairly well lit common room. Slytherins were socializing with each other and playing various games. He ignored both Trevors and Hudson each trying to get his attention for their own purposes and walked out of the common room and almost straight ahead until he reached the point, where he could take a shorcut he had discovered in his fourth year. He could go straight from the dungeon to the astronomy tower. It was stranger than any other passage he had found, because he had to argue with the mouse that guarded the passage to get past it, and he didn't have to go up any flights of stairs to reach something that usually required many stairs. It was quite convenient and a lot shorter of a trek.

When he reached the passage, he heard a voice, a deep voice he had heard before, one that was softly whispering. He slunk back into the shadows. Obviously, whoever this was, he was not planning to be overheard. His natural curiosity that always got him into trouble kicked in almost instantly. He cast a wordless charm on his shoes so they wouldn't make any noise as he quietly crept around the corner and spotted just who was talking. It was Lupin, and he was talking to Hermione… to Granger.

Keeping the growl from escaping his throat, he watched Granger lean against the wall, Lupin only a few centimeters in front of her. He stained to hear what the conversation was about. It had to be important if two Gryffindors who were all about following the rules (minus the occasional pranks) were missing curfew to be talking about it in a place they assumed was private. He did wonder why they were in the dungeons, though. The castle was huge; there were bound to be hundreds of other places to be alone in peace and talk in private.

"…miss them terribly. I wish there was something I could do." The werewolf said, the darkness of the corridor helping to etch his worried face even more.

"There's nothing you can do. We have to keep going, and you have to let me handle this." She let a tear slip down her cheek.

He knew she was strong. She faced ridicule and questions and constant attention. She was annoyed with it deeply, but she kept going with a brave face. She smiled at everyone and answered everything. She always did everything she did to please others, as if she knew that happiness was rare to come by and even more rare to keep. She didn't even flinch at the dark comments the other Slytherins had made towards her, her choice of friends, and her own heritage. He had said harsh things toward her himself in those moments that he wanted to take his wand and end her life, but she just talked reason into him, never doing anything more than comforting him. It was as if she could read into each and every single person and their individual wants and needs.

This bothered him even more. Right now, he didn't care about that as much as the fact that she was actually crying. It didn't stop at the single tear she let down. They kept going. He wanted to go over and rush to her, take her in the arms and fix whatever she needed him to fix. He didn't care what it was; he would fix it. He tried to ignore the strong desire to do this along with the pang in his heart. He didn't care about her. He still had remnants of a conscience… of a heart… that he would soon watch wash away.

He did let himself feel the deep desire to knock the dirty bastard werewolf out when he saw him cross the short distance between them in a split second and take her in his arms. One of his hands was tangled through her unruly, aggravatingly messy hair, and the other was on her back. She pressed her face into his chest and sobbed, putting her arms around him for support. The sight disgusted him more than anything he was prepared for. He wanted to throw up and kill them at the same time.

"Shh. It's okay. We'll fix this. Have you ever just thought about…" He trailed off.

"I…" She couldn't get her words through.

"I know you have. It was a stupid question to ask."

Two months since he had talked to her. Two months. Two months he had to watch her not affected the way he had been. Two months he hadn't felt her hand on his, pulling him over to see something interesting she had found. Two months he had been spending the nights alone in his room. Two months he had not dared to go to the library in fear of his actions, if he saw her. Two months of watching her spend every waking moments with him. Two months he wanted to kill her and everything else. Two months for him to realize he didn't hate her or want to kill her. Two months for him to realize he didn't want to destroy her, even though he had the inclination to at times. Two months.

And it had been the longest two months of his life. He could remember her pouting her lips out when Dumbledore announced it was too risky to have a ball at the moment. He overheard her arguing furiously with him, stating it was in "times like these that everyone, yourself included, needs to get away". She talked to him as if she was an equal.

Cold February was upon him, the fourteenth was just a few hours away, reminding him how truly alone he was because he messed up. And he realized he had. He had messed up royally. He would never admit that to anyone else; it was a big step that he had to himself. It was as far as he was willing to go. It was the end.

"You're the only one, Remus, who is left. I love you so much. That's why I'm here."

Clearly, it was too late. She was in love with the wolf. He had lost. He had lost her. He had lost her before he even had her. He didn't admit to himself that his feelings were not just that of platonic ones. He didn't admit that he was slowing falling for Hermione Granger. He didn't even consider the possibility that they were talking about something completely different. He didn't analyze further into the way she had talked to Dumbledore. He didn't think about what she meant by "coming here".

Deciding for the second time since she had come into his life to not worry about things, he finally submitted to the absolute misery he felt. He didn't feel a cold rush of fury that usually caused him to kill or hurt something or someone. He couldn't explain what he felt.

He swallowed hard. Turning around, he headed back to his cold confines, too caught up in his emotions to hear words about him being muttered.

"I need to save, Severus. Merlin help me, but I've grown to love him."