This fight was VERY difficult to write. I don't want these people OOC, yet I also want to push their boundaries a bit. Severus overreacting to the idea that Hermione was with, as he sees it, "A Potter" is, I think, quite supportable. He flies off the handle at the mere mention of James Potter in canon, and ties Harry to him with even the most tertiary reasons.

At the same time, I did want Severus a bit sympathetic. The time for Hermione to reveal this was much earlier. As I stated in an earlier chapter, I do think you owe a bit of exposition about your history if not telling would be a material omission. Given the history and the circumstances, I think Harry qualified as an, "I think you should know this about me," explanation. Hermione and Harry, however, are not proud of this and have preferred to bury it, Hermione especially. This is in keeping with her character arc of just sort of drifting and not making decisions. When she goes to Australia, it starts to hit her that indecision can be as final as making a decision, and she starts to realize that this is not a good life plan.

I will be cautiously optimistic and say that I think this was successful, because half my reviewers sided with Hermione and half sided with Severus ;)

She had spoken so softly he was certain he had heard her wrong.

"Who?"

"Harry."

Or maybe he'd only wished he'd heard her wrong.

"Potter?"

"Yes."

He shut his eyes, trying his damnedest to control his breathing. He knew, rationally, that this was not something to be upset about. Oh please let this be some sort of horrible joke.

Severus isn't an idiot, he knows that rationally this is nonsense and he shouldn't get upset. I think it frightens him that in some areas he can't divorce emotion from logic, and this is one of them.

"That isn't something to joke about."

"What makes you think I'm joking?"

"After seeing my reaction to Lily sleeping with a Potter, to then say that you slept with one…"

Severus's feelings about all of this are very complicated. On the one hand, a lot of history has passed between him and the Potters, and you can't just erase that overnight. I do think that Harry and Severus were well into the process of reconciliation at this point, but they certainly weren't all the way there yet. On Harry's end, they were, but not on Severus's. He was getting there. This derails it a bit. (Understatement.)

"You asked. You said you would be okay with hearing the truth. I'm telling you the truth."

He pulled away from her, extended his arms, and backed away slowly. The mask slipped back on. "I did not realise that you and Potter had been involved."

Why was Severus referring to him as 'Potter', Hermione wondered. They had been on a first-name basis for months now.

One example. Severus had always seen Harry as his father's son first and his own person second. He was starting to change that.

"We weren't," Hermione said softly. "It was a one-off that we never spoke about afterward and never repeated."

This was hitting far too close to home. Far too close to the painful memory he had only shared with her. He told himself that he was over it, willed himself to believe that he was over it. Harry Potter was not his father, he knew that intellectually. And it was along time ago. He was forty-five years old now, for fuck's sake. She was twenty-five. Who she slept with as a teenager should be of no matter to him. And there were others in between, he knew. Like Weasley.

As I said in a previous chapter, I wanted there to be a lot of parallels. I wanted this to parallel Severus and Lily's breakup, and I also wanted to parallel Ron leaving Harry and Hermione in the tent. Given what they've been through, under similar conditions, would they do anything differently?

Potter. Weasley.

What brilliant company to be in, he heard a voice say. The voice. The one of his self-doubt and self-loathing, the one that he had banished from his mind the night of Hermione's birthday. The one that had not plagued him for months. He tried to will it away.

I think I've also said this - I didn't need to create a "villain" in this story because Severus is his own worst enemy, and would do the work for him. That was actually the root of the original resolution to getting the girls out of the brothel. Will explain more once we get to that chapter.

"This isn't funny, Hermione."

"I know it isn't."

Always have to share your women with a Potter, don't you, said the voice.

Shutupshutupshutup.

I really do pity Severus in this because he is trying to do the right thing, is trying not to succumb to this, is trying to not get worked up, but is failing despite all the will in the world, and it's hard for me to watch it happen.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice thick.

"What do you mean?"

All the women you love seem to take a fancy to humiliating you, said the voice. They all get off on making you look like a fool.

"Are you mocking me?"

"Of course not, why would you even think that?"

I thought he and Harry were becoming friends now, Hermione thought helplessly. Alright, maybe "friends" was a bit generous, but there had at least been a truce between them for some time, at least since her birthday.

Another way of summarizing things without getting too bogged down in exposition and discussion about the Moral Of The Story.

He stood from the bed and paced around the room, slowly and deliberately. It was eerily similar to what he had done with Lily, but this time he was more… controlled. Despite that, it was far more frightening. Professor Snape had always been most terrifying when he was eerily calm.

Me trying to (subtly) hint that this was meant to be a parallel but without spelling it out completely.

Always coming second to a Potter, a day late and a knut short, said the voice.

No, he thought, fighting the voice's taunts with an iron will. I ought to give her the benefit of the doubt. She's forgiven a multitude of sins on my behalf. Her past has no bearing on our future.

She's no different than Lily, said the voice. You certainly do have a type.

He shook his head. Just because both of the loves of his life had shagged a Potter first didn't mean that they were anything alike. Both times they'd chosen him in the end. He'd messed this up once, he wouldn't do it again.

She's very different than Lily, he insisted to himself.

She hurt you like Lily hurt you, said the voice.

Severus paced furiously, his head in his hands as he wrestled with his inner demons. Hermione stood still, stricken, confused.

He really is almost on the verge of a nervous breakdown here. He's trying so damn hard but he's losing. The Voice has always won and always will. Wonder if anything will make it go away? ;)

He barged into her bedroom the first morning after you shagged her, the voice reminded him. He's always got his hands all over her. They spend all their time together. She talks to him about things she can't talk to you about.

She's been completely faithful to me!

You don't satisfy her. Only Potter can. Only Potter does. Just like with Lily.

She's nothing like Lily!

Is she now? Muggle-born Gryffindors with a talent for potions, lost causes, and fucking you? She's the same. And she'll hurt you the same. Because just like her, she can't keep her hands off of him.

No she won't.

Not if you hurt her first.

And there it is. That line was the one that I'd had written down from the moment I came up with this subplot - that Severus's defense mechanism would kick in, and he'd hurt her before she had the chance to destroy him.

"Severus?"

You always knew that Potter was no different than his father, mocked the voice. Here he is, making a fool out of you again.

No, it's different this time, Potter and I were never in competition for Hermione, she chose me. She loves me. Lily never loved me. Hermione loves me.

"Severus?"

Do you even know what it's like to have a woman writhing beneath you who isn't mentally comparing your performance to that of a Potter, the voice asked.

"Severus!"

Bet she moaned louder with him, it taunted.

But she loves me…

No woman who loves you would ever debase herself with a Potter.

"Severus!" Hermione finally leapt off the bed and stopped Severus in his tracks, bracing his forearms with her hands.

"Not you too, Hermione," he whispered, sounding betrayed.

Same words he used with Lily.

"What?"

"Not. You. Too." He pulled out of her grasp and turned away. After a few moments he turned around. "I will not go through this again. Not again. I thought you were different."

"I am different, Severus. I love you. You know that I love you. I tell you every single day. I'm raising more than a dozen children with you. I would not do that with anyone else. Not even Harry. Do you think Lily would have done this with you? I love you."

She really is different.

He shook his head. "How can you say that when there are still traces of him on you and in you?"

Paranoia.

"Traces? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I see you. You're always touching each other."

Throwback to Chapter 4, where I had them deliberately touching almost the entire time they were in the brothel.

"We're friends! And he doesn't touch me the way you do. We haven't… it happened over seven years ago. Tell me, Severus, how many women have you been with in the past seven years? How many were paid for?"

Aw HELL no.

"None! How can you say that, knowing where most of my girls have ended up? Do not turn this around." His voice was low and dangerous.

This is the third rail for him.

"How dare you stand here and pass judgment on me, given that your love life has mostly consisted of pining for a ghost?"

"Tell me, Miss Granger, are you the only witch who has slept with both male members of the Golden Trio? Or were there other tarts out there who share that honour?"

...

Silence.

Then a crack and an angry red mark across his left cheek.

Deserved, I think.

The noise seemed to bring both Severus and Hermione back into themselves. Hermione cradled her stinging hand as tears streaked down her face, while Severus stood panting, looking at her like he'd never seen her before.

Here begins the parallel to Ron and Hermione. Severus leaving with Hermione begging him to stay. Not a perfect parallel, since she didn't slap Ron (though he deserved it, didn't he?) but similar enough for my liking.

"I'm leaving," he said flatly, his face immediately expressionless.

"Severus, wait."

She reached for his arm. He pulled it away.

"Please don't go!"

Without another look at her he turned on the spot and Disapparated.

Hermione fell onto the bed, in shock, wondering what the hell had just happened. Well, no, not wondering terribly. It was just as it had been with Ron. Once again, her close relationship with Harry Potter had got in the way. Here she was feverishly trying to explain herself, and he had called her a whore.

Just like Rita Skeeter had. In Witch Weekly by implication (first Harry then Krum).

Just like Cho Chang had. Suggesting Harry was interested in Hermione rather than her.

Just like Ron had when he left. No explanation needed, I trust.

Well, not all of them said it in so many words, but it had been implied nonetheless throughout her life. She was bloody sick of it.

The memory of it still chilled her to the bone.

I think she's always been a bit sensitive about this. She seems to have gotten a reputation without even trying.

It was just like that cold, lonely night in the tent when Ron had accused her of sneaking around with Harry behind his back and then leaving her for dead. Only Severus didn't have a Horcrux to blame.

I guess I felt compelled to point out the parallel. I'm not entirely happy that I did.

Harry Potter.

Harry bloody Potter.

Harry bloody FUCKING Potter.

Rage, betrayal, jealousy, confusion, hurt... whole barrel of monkeys here. System overload. Severus is cracking up.

The bar against whom all future partners would be measured. Fuck.

Severus had Disapparated and begun walking without any idea of where he was going. All he could think of was confronting Potter, to demand to know the truth, to find out why he, of all people, had to be the one to ruin this for him.

He found himself in front of a cottage in Suffolk, one he had neither seen nor heard of before, and yet he knew that this was Potter's house. He had been led here by some unknown force, directing his body when he could only feel anger and see red. Vaguely he remembered something he had come across in an obscure volume years ago about, of all things, love magic. There was an old magic that guided a wizard who had been cuckolded to the home of the man who had dishonored him. It allowed him to defend his woman and his honor. It delivered a wizard to the man with whom he planned to duel. It was rarely used anymore and could not be summoned consciously—it would come to the wizard who needed it.

It was triggered by a deep feeling of betrayal.

Poor Severus. And poor Harry.

He would vehemently deny it if anyone ever said a word about it out loud, but he had come to consider Harry Potter a friend. A friend like his mother Lily had been. How could he have kept this crucial piece of information from him?

A friend in some ways but not in others.

What kind of friend does that?

He approached the door of the cottage and rapped on it with an angry fist. He pounded and pounded until Harry wrenched it open, eyeglasses askew, hair even messier than it usually was. Had the boy ever owned a brush?

"Severus?" He read his former teacher's face. It was twisted, insane with anger, not unlike the night he… that Dumbledore had been… that Dumbledore had died.

"What's the matter? What's going on? Are the children alright? Is Hermione okay?"

Without a word, Severus grabbed Harry by the shoulder none too gently and frogmarched him out to the front garden.

"Severus—what's going on?" He fumbled in his pocket for his wand but Severus pulled him until they met eye-to-eye, black eyes boring, positively drilling, into the green.

"What's the matter? What's happened?"

"What's happened?" Severus hissed. "What's happened? You. You are what's happened, Potter."

"Since when do you call me 'Potter' anymore? What do you mean? Is there a problem with the house? The charity fund? The Ministry?"

"No," he seethed. "There is no problem with the house, or with the fund, or with the bloody Ministry. There is only one problem, and it is with you." He tightened his grip on Harry's shoulder and unsheathed his wand.

To do what? I have no idea.

"Severus," Harry said, grasping Severus's wrists and pulling down his arms, "Tell me, what is going on here?"

Severus pulled away from Harry and regarded him with a look of loathing that Harry had not seen since his sixth year at Hogwarts. He racked his brain, wondering what on earth he could have done to make Severus so angry. He hadn't interfered with his plans for the children. Had obeyed every command Severus gave him, had honored every request, had kept his secrets about his mother. Hadn't touched Hermione. Unless… surely Hermione hadn't told him about that… had she? They had agreed that they would never…

Uh oh.

Yeah, process of elimination here.

"You…" Severus seethed, trying to spit out words between deep, panting breaths. "You…"

"Severus…"

"You had her, didn't you?"

Harry took a deep breath, swallowed. This was clearly news to Severus. He was clearly upset about it. Better stall for time.

Good plan, Harry. I'm sure that will work just swimmingly.

"What do you mean, 'had her'?"

"You know damn well what I mean, Potter."

"I'm afraid I don't."

"You were always terrible at hiding your thoughts from me, Potter. Why you thought that would have changed with age is beyond me. You know what I am asking, and you know the answer, and I want to hear it from your lips directly."

"Say it ain't so, Harry. Do it for your friend Sevvie."

Harry sighed, hesitated, and spoke. "If you're asking me if Hermione and I were ever… intimate… in the past, then the answer is yes."

A tendon in Severus's left temple twitched, but other than that he remained disturbingly still.

That, to me, would be more terrifying to watch.

"It was only once, in the last year of the war, we were both alone, and desperate, and in despair. I trust you understand what I mean?"

"No, Potter, I do not bloody understand what you mean."

"I would have thought Phineas Nigellus would have clued you in." Harry made a face of disgust. "I think he watched us."

Ew. But it fits. He totally would.

"For some reason, whether or not you and Hermione ever… it wasn't important at the time!"

"So what makes it so damn important now? I'm with Ginny, you're with Hermione, all four of us are happy with our partners, and none of us want to switch, so what is the big deal? Do you still hold a candle for anyone you were intimate with in your teens or twenties?"

There was no way in hell Severus was answering that question.

I like that Severus makes the command decision that Harry doesn't need to know. I think Harry would be totally cool with it, since in this universe he's touched by what he saw in TPT and thinks it was beautiful. But Severus wants to keep that part of his past for himself.

Taking his silence for acquiescence (Merlin, but Potter could be thick sometimes) he continued. "See what I mean? Now why is this bothering you so much? It was once. In the past. A long time ago. Another lifetime ago. In a very different world."

Severus scoffed at this. "Does Mrs. Potter know about this?" He asked with as much malice as he could muster.

"About me and Hermione? Yes. It's not something we talk of often, but she knows, and she understands."

Part of the explanation for their slight distance, among other reasons.

"Does she?"

"Yes. We had broken up. Hermione and I were on the lam. I never stopped loving Ginny, but, well, what happened… happened."

"You treat it with such… flippancy."

"Oh, come off it." Harry was angry now. "This was dead and buried. Why are you getting so angry? I admit it wasn't my finest hour, nor Hermione's, but it was over seven years ago. If my wife could get past it, when the memory was much more fresh and it occurred much closer to the time of our own relationship, at a time when we would have been together but for the war, why can't you when you're seven years removed?"

"I do not share, Potter. I made that very clear to Hermione when this began."

"You aren't sharing her, Severus. You never have. Hermione has been completely faithful to you. It would be completely and utterly out of character for her to be anything else."

"I know that."

"So why get so bent out of shape over something that happened years before you were involved or even contemplated becoming involved? When she would have been your student and you would have been her headmaster? When she was a teenager and you were in your thirties? When you were a double-agent and she was on the front line attempting to destroy the master of the dark side? When you and I both know it was impractical, and in fact impossible, to plan for the future? When all of us, you, me, Hermione, and everyone else, woke each day with the understanding that it might be our last? When romantic relationships were more of a liability than an asset? When the biggest favour you could perform for a loved one was to put as much distance between the two of you as was humanly possible? When it was downright inconceivable that you and she would ever have any sort of relationship?"

Go Harry go!

Harry was panting as he finished his monologue, as was Severus. Severus would never, ever admit that Harry was making some good points.

Never. He would never be satisfied with anything Harry bloody Potter told him. Not about this. Not about anything. He had to know the truth. Knew Potter would never hide it from him. Knew that he couldn't even if he tried. For he was hopeless, his mind incapable of any higher purpose.

He had to know. He knew that he shouldn't look, should walk away, should compose himself and then plead for Hermione's forgiveness. But then again, Severus was never very good at doing what he should do. Not if he could help it. Not without cajoling.

He grasped Harry's shoulders again and, with an intensity he had never felt before, cried out, "Legilimens!"

This takes place roughly where the dancing scene in DH 1 was: post-Ron, pre-Godric's Hollow. I'm definitely not the first to come up with the idea of them hooking up when they were alone. In fact, JKR has even said that Harry and Hermione, "Could have gone that way" during this time, and Steve Kloves (screenwriter for the films) took that idea and ran with it. I just ran further. Because that's how I roll.

The rain hammered relentlessly on the soft, worn canvas of the tent. The air was cold and musty. Harry sat in the opening to the outside, keeping watch, with a jar of Hermione's bluebell flames in his lap. They were God-only-knew where. Hermione had mentioned something about Haworth and the moors as they appeared in Wuthering Heights, and that it would be an ideal location because it would be isolated and yet fairly close to civilisation if they needed to replenish their food stocks. They had long since learned to multiply any food they came across, in order to make it last.

The tent felt… empty.

Ron had left them weeks earlier; stormed out in a fit of rage. It had been literally months since they'd seen another living soul. They had found the locket, but had not yet found a means to destroy it. No sword, no Basilisk fangs, nothing. They had to still find the cup and the snake and had nothing to go on. They had to find some artefact of Ravenclaw's, but they hadn't the slightest idea of what it could be. Hermione had spent hours poring over Hogwarts, A History, as well as every book she could acquire about the Founders before she left. Nothing. They were being hunted by Voldemort's entire army, and to ask for help from anyone would have been too dangerous.

The situation was as bleak and dark as the weather outside.

I wanted to paint a picture of complete and utter desperation in this scene, that they really were at the end of their ropes. Each has been putting on a brave face, but Hermione just quits here and gives in. She's out of ideas, and Harry is too, and neither one of them wants to admit that they've been sent on a fool's errand, and neither one knows what to do.

Hermione, seated cross-legged on one of the chairs inside, made a sound of frustration and hurled her book onto the ground, devolving quickly into sobs. Hermione was not one to cry, never had been, but ever since Ron disappeared things had been… difficult. For both of them.

It wasn't so much the isolation as the fact that they had been abandoned, effectively left for dead, by the one person they were counting on to complete this journey with them. They had all agreed: destroy the Horcruxes, or die trying.

Lately, it had seemed like the latter option would be the most likely.

Harry sighed and got up from his post at the entryway to approach his friend. She looked… well, she was a bloody mess. Hair was sticking out in ways that completely defied gravity. Her eyes were blotchy and red. Her face was dangerously thin, her skin ashen, her nails ragged. They had been camping out in the forest for over three months, and it showed. Harry did not want to know how he looked; if he looked half as bad as Hermione, if he had deteriorated half as much as her, he didn't want to know.

I remember in DH Harry hadn't seen his own reflection in months. Which I found really, really odd.

Severus found her virtually unrecognisable. Gone was the fire in her eyes, the fierce determination she had always worn on every aspect of her person. Gone was her flair, her energy, her… life. In her place was a dead woman, an inferius, a zombie.

Severus had thought that the war had been difficult on him. This… this was very different from what he had been expecting, from what he had understood their situation to be. Phineas Nigellus had kept the details minimal, listening only for their location. He never mentioned how positively decimated the two of them looked.

"Mione?" Harry asked cautiously, using a nickname that hadn't crossed his lips since third year.

"Mione" is actually one of my pet peeves, because it's a totally fanon thing, but for some reason it fit here that he would call her by a different name, like this was a different life and a different world and things that happened here wouldn't happen anywhere else.

She drew her knees to her chest and buried her head in them. Her body convulsed with desperate, frustrated sobs.

"Mione," Harry tried again. He was at his own breaking point, and he needed Hermione to be strong for him. If she lost hope, she who always had the answers, always had a plan, always knew where to look, where to go, what to do… then all hope was truly lost. Harry did not want to accept or admit that they were there yet. He couldn't.

What point would it be to continue living if it were true?

He pulled her down from the chair and into his embrace. They knelt on the hard wooden floor together, young knees already tired and achy and protesting against the floor, rain pounding on the canvas, with small droplets escaping ever so often, and just held each other. In each person's arms was the only other person, only other thing, that they still had in the world. They just had to make it through this. Had to.

I actually am kind of surprised that JKR didn't have a "moment of truth" between them like in the movie (they dance and silently agree to remain just friends at the end). What other reason, narratively speaking, would there be to get rid of Ron if not to test their resolve? I guess there are reasons; I just would have made a different decision.

"Will it ever end?" Hermione asked through the tears and sniffles.

"Somehow," Harry mumbled.

"I mean… I don't know if I can do this anymore," Hermione wailed. "I'm sorry, Harry, I just… I don't know how to go on."

"We'll find a way, Hermione," Harry said in an exhausted voice. "We always do."

Obnoxious author moment: I'm immensely proud of the dialogue in this flashback. I wrote it all in one sitting and I don't think I ever had to edit or change it, if memory serves. It was surprisingly one of the easiest passages to write in this entire story.

She shook her head. "How? How? We don't know where the bloody sword is. We don't know where half the bloody Horcruxes are. We don't even know what the last one is. Anyone who could possibly help us is either dead or in hiding. And Dumbledore," she spat out the name, "gave us absolutely nothing to go on. A book of children's stories? An old snitch? A bloody Deluminator?"

What the hell is a Deluminator, Severus wondered.

Laying the groundwork for Ron to give it to Severus in the next chapter. Reminding everyone that it exists.

"Ron was right, it's nothing, all nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing is all we have. We have nothing to live for but getting caught and tortured and killed. We have no friends left in this world. We have no way of obtaining information. We have nothing, Harry, nothing!"

Prolonged periods of isolation really can make people go mad and start to question their reality. I think it would have affected them more of others because of the presence of the Horcrux. I don't know if it's influencing any of the behavior here. It could be read that way, but I don't recall it entering into the equation for me while writing it. Then again, I wrote this chapter 18 months ago, I could have forgotten. But like i said, I don't think it did.

Harry tightened his hold on his friend. He had never seen her, or anyone, for that matter, so distraught and hopeless.

Neither had Severus, who had spent much of his life distraught and hopeless.

"Are we even alive anymore, Harry? Are we even real? Is this life?"

"Of course it is, Mione," Harry said, a twinge of fear in his voice. Hermione was never, ever one to question reality. "We're alive and we're real. You're still here, and I'm still here."

"You'll leave, too," she whimpered.

"Never," he said emphatically, squeezing her and planting a kiss on her cheek. He pulled away a bit and cupped her tear-stained face in his hands. "Not for anything or anyone. I can't do this alone, do you understand me? I need you, Hermione, and I am not going anywhere. Ever." He punctuated this promise with a kiss to her forehead.

"But Ron said the same thing and he…"

"But that's not what I'm going to do," Harry said firmly. "Do you understand?"

He's kind of pledging himself to her here. Affirming the commitment that Ron broke by leaving.

She nodded.

"Tell me."

"I und—understand," she replied.

"That's my girl," he said. He pulled her face to his and kissed her on the forehead again, this time letting his lips linger. It felt good to feel the skin of another person beneath his lips again. It had been so long he had almost forgotten what it felt like. "Mione," he whispered. Then on the nose. "I didn't choose this mission, it was chosen for me. But you… you could have walked away. You chose this. You are the most courageous, intrepid, wonderful friend I could have ever asked for in this. For that, I will never, ever let you go."

I wanted the buildup to this to be very natural; not too OOC, not too forced, like something that could naturally unfold under the right circumstances. So I tried to create the right circumstances. They're desperate, they're in close contact - closer than they've ever been with each other. They're high strung and afraid. Each is, for all intents and purposes, the last person on earth for the other. They're not made of stone. They caved.

They embraced again. "I miss him," she whispered.

He nodded. "So do I."

She shuddered. "Do you miss Ginny?"

He nodded again. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "Every moment of every day."

"D'you think they're together, wherever they are?"

"I… I don't know," Harry answered truthfully. "I like to think that they are, that they're taking care of each other, the way you and I are taking care of each other now."

Hermione sighed. "Will we ever see them again, Harry?"

"We will," Harry said resolutely. "Whether in this life or the next, we will all be together again." He swallowed thickly. "I promise."

He was speaking of more than just Ron and Ginny, and Hermione knew it.

"Mione, don't give up on me. I can't do this without you," he whispered.

"You're all I have left," she whispered to him.

"So are you," he replied.

They pulled apart a bit and looked into each other's eyes. In their world, their universe, all that existed was the two of them. Two people who lived eternally in the present—neither dwelling in the past, which was too painful to think of, nor the future, which they could not afford the luxury of thinking about. Two people clinging to each other for survival, desperate for hope.

Distantly, the thunder rolled.

Fact: You must hook people up for the first time during a thunderstorm. Thunderstorms are an aphrodisiac. Fact.

Hermione clutched Harry a bit closer, and as they held each other he kissed her on the forehead once more. Then on each cheek. And then… well, it wasn't clear exactly what happened next. The memory turned a bit fuzzy at this point. All they knew was that their lips met tentatively and chastely, then more desperately. Distance between bodies disappeared. Inexperienced arms and legs intertwined. Articles of clothing were removed one by one. Thin bodies somehow fit in the large armchair after awkwardly climbing into it. The chair had more than enough room to fit two weak, skeletal figures who fought to get closer.

The best way I can describe this is just giving in to gravity. Just let yourself fall and trust you won't be too badly hurt on impact.

They did not speak to one another, but thoughts roared through Harry's mind.

'I miss Ginny. Hermione's here, she's real, and Ginny's a memory. I don't know if I'm going to make it out of this alive. For a few minutes, just a few minutes, let me think of something other than the war. Let me indulge in the pleasures that other teenagers do. I wish she were Ginny. But Ginny isn't here, Hermione is, and she feels good. This will change everything. This will change nothing. My life has been anything but ordinary—this is what ordinary people do, isn't it? When I kiss her, I think of nothing, and I like that. Let me think of nothing. Let me just feel. Let me just act. Let me just…be.'

I felt the need to provide extra exposition as to their thoughts, mostly because I was afraid I'd be tarred and feathered for this!

Severus decided to go in all the way and perform Legillimency on Hermione within Harry's memory. Legilimency-within-Legilimency was nearly impossible, but could be done by someone with enough skill. Like him.

My original idea was for Severus to just deduce all of Hermione's thoughts below based on her facial expressions, but then I thought it would be cooler to go Inception-style and have Legilimency-within-Legilimency. Because why the hell not?

'I might die tomorrow. If everyone else disappears, do I still exist? Harry's here, and with him I exist, if only for a few minutes. Ron will be furious. Ron left, who gives a fuck what he thinks? This is so unlike me. This is exactly what I need. I need Ron. I need a warm body. I need to know I'm still alive and still whole and still human. Here, right here, I am.'

That's what they were, really: two warm bodies clinging to each other, reminding each other that they were still alive, still breathing, still human in an inhuman world.

The coupling was frantic and inexperienced. It was desperate and pleading.

It was exactly what they needed.

Severus watched his lover make love with another man, the son of the man he hated. He looked so much like James at that age, even with the weight loss and other effects of stress on the body. It was like watching James Potter make love to Hermione.

Kind of perverse, in a way.

The thought should disgust him, pull him into a rage. Instead it… it didn't.

This wasn't his Hermione. His Hermione made love with her eyes open and firmly locked with those of her partner, making soft moans of pleasure. This Hermione kept her eyes screwed tightly shut, averting the eyes of her partner, and made low grunts. His Hermione knew exactly what she wanted and when she wanted it. This Hermione looked tense and submissive. His Hermione kissed and caressed as she moved. This Hermione clung to her partner as if he were a life raft. His Hermione vocalised her pleasure during sex. This Hermione seemed to feel only release.

This and the brothel chapter are as explicit as I seem to get, folks. Use your imaginations :)

When they finished, they just held each other for a long while. They said nothing as they drifted off to sleep. In the morning, Hermione would wake first, disentangle herself, and quickly retrieve her clothing. Harry would find her sitting at the entrance, head in a book, back to him, as he did every morning, as if nothing had ever happened. Harry would prepare her a cup of tea and leave it by her side without a word, like he did every morning, as if nothing had ever happened.

They had found release with one another. Each needed something from the other. They would never need it again.

I don't think it was out of shame or anything like that that they never spoke about it again or repeated it. They let themselves fall, enjoyed it while it lasted, then dusted themselves off and moved on with their lives. They had a mission, and it came first. This was just to recalibrate themselves a bit.

Inside the cottage, through the window, Ginny and Ron watched the scene unfold. Harry had placed a silencing charm on the window months ago to keep outside sounds out; they had learned the hard way that a loud lorry or other sudden noise outside was enough to wake James and, by extension, his parents. So though they were only a few feet away, the interaction played out in complete silence.

I love how they just sort of go with it, not too much panic. They figure that if Severus was going to kill Harry, it would have happened years ago.

They watched as Snape railed against Harry, who, for once in his life, responded calmly and rationally in the face of an irrational Snape.

"Is Snape going to kill Harry?" Ginny asked nonchalantly, rocking a fussy James. She might have been asking Ron if he thought it might rain later.

"Doubt it," Ron said. "Hermione will kill him if he does."

Can you imagine this pantomime? Anger anger anger - deflect deflect deflect - stop and stare.

Suddenly the two men outside began staring into each other's eyes intensely, expressionlessly, and remained that way for a long time.

"What are they doing?" Ron asked.

Ginny considered for a moment. "Don't suppose Snape is watching Harry's memories, do you?"

"Maybe Harry is watching Snape's?"

"He's still standing with all his parts intact, isn't he? Can't be. Must be the other way round."

"Wonder what's going on."

"He'll tell us once he gets back in."

"Ifhe comes back in."

"You know better than to think that, Ronald. Besides, if Snape wanted to kill him, he would have done so by now, and would have made sure we weren't here to witness it."

"True." They watched for a bit longer before Ron spoke again. "Do you think he knows we're watching?"

Neither one is aware of anything but the other, even without the Legilimency.

"He must. He's Snape. He notices everything."

Severus was panting hard as he withdrew from Harry's memories, as if he had run a long distance. So was Harry. Legilimency performed for more than a minute or two caused great physical and mental fatigue. Both men wearily settled themselves on the stone fence surrounding the cottage, neither quite meeting the other's eye.

This would be emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausting for both. Harry's just had to relive something that he'd rather bury, and Severus has just been slapped in the face with how wrong he's been.

Harry had had no desire to re-live that experience, or most of his time in that tent. He vowed to never set foot in a tent ever again after that year, and he meant it. He had banished this memory from his mind and never let himself think on it. He didn't want to.

Severus felt as if he'd been slapped in the face.

Had to go and think the worst of her, didn't you, the voice derided him. Had to accuse her to her face. Had to interrogate her about something that was none of your damn business. Couldn't be bothered to give the benefit of the doubt to the one sodding person in this world who saw you as a real person, not as a Death Eater and not as a teacher.

What had he done?

Again, own worst enemy. He goads himself into doing bad things, then berates him for having done the bad thing he convinced himself to do. Unholy, vicious cycle.

You accused and insulted and berated the one person who ever loved you in your entire life, the voice answered. You hurt the one person who approached you with no ulterior motive. You fucked this one up royally.

He had to see her. Had to make this right. He would do anything she wanted, anything she asked, without question.

Too little, too late, the voice mocked in an almost singsong tone.

"Harry…" Severus said in a brittle voice. Oh, we're back to "Harry" now, are we? He wanted to Apparate but was too shaken to do it without splinching himself. He dug deep into himself and retrieved some of the techniques he used to use to steady himself enough to Apparate after meetings with the Dark Lord. Controlled breathing. Picture a calm, dark lake late at night, stars reflected on the surface of the water. Breathe in, breathe out.

That's how you Occlumency, no?

"Severus," Harry spoke. "I'm very sorry we never told you. Honestly, it's something we both wanted to forget. It was a lapse in judgment. We took no precautions. It was pretty uncharacteristic for both of us. Our hearts belonged to other people. We both felt as if we betrayed those people. Please don't think to badly of us."

Severus shook his head. "No, I…" He was still working hard to steady himself. He scrambled to find words but none would come.

Take a photo, Harry. That doesn't happen often.

"I know," Harry said. "Once, long before we got together, I walked in on Ginny snogging Dean Thomas in a corridor. I had no claim to her back then, and in fact was convinced I'd lost my chance with her for good. Dean was my roommate and a dear friend. She was just as into him as he was into her, and she was snogging him just as fiercely and passionately as he was snogging her. And yet… I wanted to rip him limb from fucking limb for what he was doing to her."

Those chapters of HBP were exhausting. Note to JKR: if you're going to do unrequited love, build a freaking foundation, rather than, "Oh, I hung out with Ginny all summer and noticed she was a girl and now I want her." Give the girl a character at least! /rant

Severus remembered that relationship well. He had caught the amorous couple more than once in various alcoves and closets around the castle that year. Which was odd; students in relationships with members of the same House often got off in the relative safety their own common rooms; only inter-house lovers dared to risk discovery in the corridors. Especially nights when Severus had been wandering the corridors.

"Is there a point to that rambling diatribe about the adolescent fumblings of two randy Gryffindors?"

"When our hearts are at stake, we lose our heads."

That was an understatement.

"Look," Harry said. "I know you probably hate me and always have and probably always will, regardless of what I say or do. I know that you put up with me now for the sake of the children and for the sake of Hermione. I'd like you to consider me a friend, but I can accept that that may never happen. And if our roles were reversed, and I learned that my girlfriend had slept with the one person I despised more than anyone else, I'd probably react like this, too. Honestly, Severus, it was very Gryffindor of you to come here, demanding that I come out and face you, defending your honor. And hers."

That is almost an insult to Severus. Fo realz.

The attempt at levity did not go over well with Severus, and Harry continued speaking quickly.

"Anyway, now you know what happened. Hermione's very sensitive about it, she isn't proud that it happened by a long shot. I hope you won't take it out on her, and that you'll understand the situation. I think you of all people could."

Severus still said nothing. He felt calmer now, somehow. He was almost ready to Apparate.

"I'll… give you your space. Come inside if you need to talk. And, well, thanks for not killing me."

I like Harry's awkward attempts to lighten the mood. (This is apparently the chapter full of shameless self-congratulation.)

Harry got up to leave. He made it halfway up the drive before turning around.

"Just so you know, Severus… I've never seen Hermione look at anyone the way she looks at you."

Severus stood up and turned away from Harry.

"You're wrong," he said, just loud enough for Harry to hear. "I don't hate you."

In psychology, I believe we call that a breakthrough. I wrote this section to lead up to that admission.

Without another word, he thought hard of the bedroom where he'd left Hermione back at Grimmauld Place and Disapparated.

Severus was thrown back to the courtyard in front of the house. He shouldn't have been; all wards were set so that he could Apparate and Disapparate into any room at any time, should he need to in an emergency. Hermione must have overridden him. He had added her as someone who had absolute control over the wards, should something happen to him. He was not counting on it; all his old enemies were dead and the Wizarding world as a whole saw him as a hero for some reason, but he had spent too many years as a spy to not plan for a contingency. Old habits were hard to break.

Someone's in trouble.

Clearly Hermione was upset with him and meant to keep him from Disapparating back into their room. Fine; he would walk through the front door, climb the stairs, knock on the bedroom door, fall to his knees, and beg her forgiveness. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done so in order to win back the love of a woman he'd hurt.

From confident strut to simpering supplicant. Severus in a nutshell.

When he reached the bedroom, he found that it was unlocked and Hermione was gone. Something seemed… off about the room. The desk seemed clearer and something was different about the layout of the books on the shelves, but for the moment he dismissed it.

He descended the stairs and went into the kitchen, where he found Luna sitting with a mug of tea in her hands, looking thoughtful.

"Luna, have you seen Hermione?"

She shook her head. "I heard someone leave earlier. I actually assumed it was you."

Severus frowned. Hermione must have gone out to clear her head. He had said some terrible things to her. He thought of sending his Patronus to her, but decided against it. If she needed time and space, he would give her time and space. It was a Saturday; the duties of the adults in the house on weekends was limited merely to minding the children. No lessons. He could cover for her today.

But as the hours ticked by and day turned into evening and into night, there was no word from Hermione. Frowning, Severus decided to go to the floo. If she was planning to go anywhere else, she would have, at the very least, informed Harry. He felt a twinge of pain at the thought that she wasn't speaking to him, but put it out of his mind for now. He knew he deserved it.

Kneeling before the fire, he flooed Harry's home.

"Harry!" Severus hissed. When he received no response, he shouted, "Potter!"

Harry knelt at the fireplace warily, as if wondering what infraction he had committed now. "Yes?"

"Where's Hermione?"

"Wherever you left her, I would imagine."

"You haven't heard from her?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "No. Should I have?"

Severus sighed. This wasn't a good sign.

"She hasn't been home all day, and I haven't heard from her. I know that if she was planning to stay elsewhere, she would likely let you know…"

"But given the subject matter of our conversations today, I could see her wanting her space," Harry mused, finishing Severus's thought for him. "Have you tried sending her a Patronus?"

Severus shook his head. Why hadn't he thought of that? "I'll do it now." He hesitated before leaving. "Harry… you don't suppose something happened to her, do you?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm sure she's fine." He gave Severus a faint smile. "Really."

Severus closed the floo, whispered a message to his Patronus inquiring after her well-being, and sent it off. The doe returned to him a few minutes later. He scowled at the Patronus and sent it again, and again it returned. Patronuses only returned to the sender if they had been unable to deliver the message, which meant that Hermione was not within its range.

Which meant that Hermione was no longer in Britain.

He trudged up the stairs and inspected their bedroom, properly this time. He hadn't been inside it all day. He noticed that the room was indeed missing things. Her books were gone, as were all items of clothing and photographs. He walked into the bathroom; her never-ending pile of hair products was gone-he could see the counter for the first time in months. The entire room had been cleared of all things Hermione.

Severus heaved a heavy sigh and staggered against the doorway. He understood now. Hermione had left him. Hermione had left them. Hermione was gone.

I myself had mixed feelings about that. I didn't want to her to abandon the kids, but for her to need some space and decide to go make up for one of her choices and see her parents. We'll get into it more in that chapter, but it was always intended that that would be a fool's errand for her. The specifics changed a few times before I hammered it down.

This incident basically forces Hermione to face her past and all the things she's been running from. She runs from this, too, but this is the last time that will happen. This is it.