disclaimer: No...I do not own any of the characters from Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling is a genius!)

also...while I do use the main characters of the Harry Potter stories, there are a few characters that belong to me...some haven't made their debut yet but two are Thomas Crow, the Lake Snake (who won't make an official appearance until Ch. 27) and Isabeaura Serpentsoot. Please enjoy! And feel free to review, I love feedback! )

I will try to post some more chapters soon. I'm getting married in about two weeks, so I've been ridiculously busy- but I will TRY to get better about posting. Also- as per some of your questions...yes, this will be a romance between Mr. Snarky and everyone's favorite insufferable little know it all...I'm just taking my time with it. And no, Snape is NOT her father, believe me! )

ENJOY!

-boots-

"Isabeaura" It was all Narcissa Malfoy could manage to say as her ice blue eyes focused on the worn down woman before her, driven to the edges of insanity by a man she herself had loved for so long. She looked at the stunned woman and released the spell with a sudden flip of her wrist.

"Who are you? How do you know my name?" she hissed, flicking her tongue around the air.

"Do you not recognize me after all this time?" Narcissa circled the woman, keeping her back against whatever walls she could. She took a great risk in being at St. Mungo's, considering Lucius had practically forbidden her to speak the woman's name aloud in his company. Isabeaura Serpentsoot had never been a close friend of hers but she had known her husband, Phinneus Crowe quite well as their families were old friends. In fact, it wasn't until that fateful night shortly after Katrina went missing that Narcissa had seen Isabeaura since they're own days at Hogwarts. A chill ran through her body as the images of that night rushed through her like a stampede of wild centaurs. The look on Katrina Malfoy's face in the throws of the Cruciatus curse had been forever burned in her mind's eye and she knew that Isabeaura had been haunted by the same memory.

"You… you are of the house of Black" the restrained witch cackled and threw her head back; her tongue wildly licking the air- tasting Narcissa's scent. Isabeaura had been the picture of elegance in her youth, with her oil slicked hair wrapped in tight coils about her head, her alabaster skin and jade serpentine eyes that could stun you faster than any spell. The blonde witch was in fact, so taken aback by the woman's unhinged mind and filthy appearance that she nearly forgot why she was there.

"Your son has grown into a handsome young man" Narcissa said after some careful consideration. Isabeaura looked up at her as if she were an angel but after a minute her expression faded to one of pure misery and she quickly turned away.

"I had a baby once but he's gone…gone, gone, gone" She slowly made her way back to the corner of the room and rested her head on the wall as she let her body slide to the grimy floor. "My little baby- my Thomas…gone,gone,gone…"

"Albus Dumbledore how could you?!" Madame Pomfrey whispered in a husky, disapproving tone "He's just a boy!"

"Now, now Poppy…as you said 'he's just a boy' and he needs medical attention"

The old wizard had mastered the art of changing the subject long ago though the mediwitch's words did resonate in his mind. He thought in that moment of the very first time Severus had come back to Hogwarts looking like young Mr. Crowe; beaten and bloodied but so unwilling to let him down. He sighed inwardly and took a seat next to the boy's bed. On one hand, it was unfair to put the boy through such torture; on the other, it had been the boy that had approached him about taking on such an endeavor for the Order, though Dumbledore knew it had always been revenge that motivated Thomas Crowe.

A few beds over, Remus Lupin was awoken by the low voices on the other side of the curtain. He carefully sat up and leaned forward to push the curtain aside. The werewolf barely breathed as his eyes focused on the nearly lifeless body of Thomas Crowe. The teacher in him wanted to rush to his aid but Dumbledore's presence was the hint that this was no ordinary late night hospital visit.

"He'll need his rest but he should be right as rain by the morning"

"Thank you Poppy", the old wizard beamed and gently glanced over his shoulder. Remus could sense the headmaster's watchful eyes but continued to listen intently.

"I fear matters are about to become quite complicated. Friends may become each others worst adversaries and long standing enemies may form alliances they never dreamed of… I will need to know… that I have beacons to help us find our way when Hogwarts is in the eye of this most inevitable storm." His gaze was intentional and unbreakable. Remus nodded silently and laid his head back down on the overstuffed pillow; his mind racing with questions.

"What are you on about now?" Madame Pomfrey whispered as she dabbed the dark mark on Thomas' arm with some comfrey salve.

"Just the musings of an old fool, Poppy." Albus chuckled softly and stood to leave, lingering for a moment by Professor's Lupin's bedside. "Incidentally, a beacon will do no good without a proper navigator and an intended destination…"

"What was that Headmaster?" Poppy reared her head up from a lower cupboard.

"Oh nothing Poppy… just thinking out loud"

The mediwitch gave him a grave stare and quickly ushered him out the door, latching it behind her in irritation. The werewolf pulled the sheets up to his chin and tried to sleep. If there was in fact a great storm brewing- he didn't want to be caught off guard when it hit and if at all possible, he wanted to avoid getting struck by lightning.

Severus Snape was beside himself with horror. How could she have kissed his insipid skin and not cringed in revulsion? He was her teacher; surely she must have known how inappropriate her actions had been. What was the witch thinking? He was neither handsome nor charming in his mind and the only emotion he could fathom the girl having for him would have been pity. Hermione stared at him dreamily, her eyes slightly lidded still. The truth was, she hadn't been thinking; she was so overcome with emotion in that instant that it had just happened. After a moment her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she recoiled from her professor. His eyes bore into her like a dagger and his mouth formed a hard line that was impossible to decipher. Hermione's fear was visible as she trembled in his overwhelming shadow. He gripped her wrist again and flung her limp body into a chair, pocketing the postcard she had previously thrust at him.

"I will make this perfectly clear to you Miss Granger, you will not visit my private rooms, you will not attempt to speak with me about matters which do not pertain to your potions curriculum…"

Hermione attempted to interject but Professor Snape was seething and his low voice flooded her senses like a tidal wave.

"You will serve a week's detention with Filch!"

"But sir…I…"

"Fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor for your disgusting display…"

"Professor, that's not…"

"The next time you try to humiliate me I will not be so lenient, you insufferable little banshee! Now…get…out"

Hermione was stunned. She clutched the framed photograph of her mother and Snape. How could he banish her from him now? There was still so much to be discovered about her past and he seemed to be her only link to any of it. Her tear filled eyes searched his sallow face for forgiveness, for some softness- but there was none to be found. She had not intended to "humiliate" him and, in truth, was a little thrown when he had used that particular word to describe his feeling.

"Now Granger…out!" he spat.

The young witch stood, her legs shaking like a colt; her eyes, a sea of regret and silent torment. "She… my mother was your friend" her voice was soft but steadfast, "She expected you to care about me…"

Severus promptly turned on his heel, leaving the young girl mid-sentence. Hermione slammed the frame down on a nearby table, a perfect crack splitting the glass.

"You can't care about anything, can you?!" Her voice was unwavering. "You can't because you're wicked! You're cruel and self-absorbed. You're nothing but a great coward and you know what? Harry may feel sorry for you, Professor Lupin may feel sorry for you but I DON'T!" Tears poured down her face as she ran from the room.

Severus stood very still, unable to take another step. He glanced at the door, expecting her to come rushing back in, remorseful and humbled but there was only the whistle of emptiness through the dungeon hallways. The potions master looked down at the cracked frame and his eyes hardened against the onslaught of emotions racing through his head. Slumping into his favorite chair by the fireplace, he pinched the bridge of his nose and forced the girl's face from his mind. Clearly there was more to Hermione's unfolding identity than even he could have anticipated. He retrieved the now badly crumpled postcard from his pocket and read the delicately scrawled words on the back. "Maison des Cinq Serpents" His voice was flat and tired. Again, he folded the postcard into the recesses of his robes and buried his head in his hands for a minute before stiffly standing.

"Headmaster's Office" he hissed against the emerald flames.

The thunder was unrelenting; pounding the castle grounds like an angry giant. In Gryffindor common room, Ginny sat inches away from none other than Harry Potter. Ron had reluctantly left them alone and gone up to bed moments earlier- though it seemed to Ginny that they had been sitting there in silence for hours. She licked her dry lips and inhaled as if about to speak but no words followed; only a heavy sigh. Harry looked at Ginny as if he was seeing her for the first time. She had matured a lot, even in the last few months. Her vibrant hair draped over her slender shoulders like a cloak and framed her face quite beautifully. Harry had never noticed how much Ginny looked like his own mother. He took this opportunity to take her in completely- studying every freckle, every strand of gloriously red hair.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Oh- nothing- I just…" the boy smiled sheepishly "Ginny- you …you look like…I just never noticed…"

"Harry, Neville's right- I have something to tell you…I…I love you Harry Potter, I've loved you from the moment I first met you."

Harry felt as if he had been punched in the stomach by a mountain troll.

"Are you alright?" The young girl's cheeks flushed as red as her hair and she was beginning to think she had made a horrible mistake. Harry just stared at her blankly. How could he have been so oblivious? Was she serious? In truth, he had always found Ginny to be cute and not at all unpleasant to be around, but he had never even considered her in that way before. He swallowed hard and stood, searching himself for the right words.

"I'm sorry Harry…I…I should never have told you." Before Harry could even breathe to protest, Ginny ran up to her dormitory, leaving twin trails of unrequited tears behind her. The boy-who-never-knew-what-to-make-of-girls slumped back into his chair and suddenly felt very guilty that he had never noticed the love of his life when she had been right in front of him the whole time.

Hermione ran as hard as she could before collapsing to the floor in a heap of embarrassment and hurt. In truth, she had barely made it out of the dungeons. She wiped the rims of her eyes with her sleeve till they were quite raw, leaning against the cold stone wall for support. She smoothed her hair down and tucked some loose strands behind her ears. When she felt composed enough to continue to Gryffindor Tower, she stood, straightened her robes and was on her way. She casually glanced at her watch and was shocked to see it was nearly two in the morning. Time hadn't seemed to exist since she had received that damned letter from Gringotts. She swallowed back another round of tears. 'I really must learn some restraint' the young witch thought as she ascended the first set of stairs on the grand staircase.

Hermione's mind was filled to the brim; N.E.W.T.s were practically around the corner and she had fallen severely behind in Arthimancy. She shook her head; 'around the corner'? Final exams were not until June and it was only mid November! Her thoughts suddenly turned to the approaching Christmas break. Where would she go? Would she go "home" to the Grangers? She paused on the steps to take a breath and thought about her Potions Master. She realized what she had done had been entirely improper and yet somehow she couldn't help but relish in how utterly rebellious it had been of her; how very "Slytherin"-like she had acted the last few days and oddly enough, how soft his hair had been when her cheek had brushed against it; not at all greasy as she had grown accustomed to thinking it was. Naturally, the latter thought struck Hermione as bizarre, yet she wasn't sorry she had kissed him. In a way, the young witch was actually a little hurt that he had rejected her affection for him. She paused again; "affection?" she mumbled…was it really?

As she approached the last set of stairs, Hermione's musings were abruptly interrupted by the soft sound of crying coming from somewhere on the sixth floor. She just barely peeked around the corner and a wave of nausea came over her at the sight of a very pitiful looking Draco Malfoy, slumped over himself in a corner. She sighed inwardly and turned back toward the stairs but as she was leaving, she caught her foot on the rug and tripped.

"Who's there?" Draco stopped crying immediately but didn't stir. "Is there anybody there?"

Hermione stood very still. True, he intimidated her but she wasn't afraid of Malfoy; so why hide? Without thinking, Hermione rounded the corner and carefully approached the blonde wizard.

"Granger? Sod off!"

"Why were you crying?" The young wizard stared up at her with a cold and skeptical look.

"I wasn't"

"Draco- you were sitting up here in a darkened corner crying…I heard you from the stairs" Hermione took a few steps closer to him. He was, after all, her cousin and at that moment she felt an inexplicable connection to the spiteful young man that she had never felt before.

"I just want to… Are you hurt? Do you need help to Madame Pomfrey's office?"

His icy eyes were fixed to the floor.

"Fine" she sighed and turned to leave.

Draco watched her disappear from view and when he heard the stairs move, he gently rose to his feet, clutching his arm and, wincing a little, hobbled over to the grand staircase. A part of him had wanted to tell her everything but the pureblood in him was too proud, and spilling his guts to anyone let alone a nosy mudblood would have been very un-slytherin-like. The truth was; Draco had suffered through a horrible weekend at home. His father had been ruthless in his mother's mysterious absence and his "initiation" had been both painful and humiliating. All he wanted at that moment was a shower and a warm bed. As he made his way down the steps, clutching his throbbing arm, he was completely unaware that he was being watched by a pair of golden eyes at the very top of the staircase.

"The dark mark" she whispered and swallowed a hard lump in her throat. Could the Death Eaters be reassembling? Hermione, like most people in the wizarding world, believed that the final battle had been won the previous summer. It was well-known fact that Harry and Lord Voldemort had fought each other in the depths of the Forbidden Forrest. It was also widely believed that Harry had vanquished the dark wizard. Hermione recalled an article she had read in The Quibbler concerning theories that the Dark Lord had survived the attack – but she rarely believed anything that Looney Lovegood's father wrote.

Hermione's eyes flashed with worry; if the Dark Lord was indeed still an active force she would have to alert Dumbledore immediately, but she was just so tired. She lazily made her way to Gryffindor common room and was fully intent on flooing to the Headmaster's office straightaway, but somehow she found herself curled up on the overstuffed couch by the fireplace. Her eyes languidly followed the flames as they softened into ash and before she could tell herself to get up, she had drifted off into a dream.