Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: So sorry for the long wait, but this chapter has been a bad girl... relatively speaking that is. I hope you enjoy, and remember, things aren't always as they seem.

Chapter 8: Seek, and Ye Shall Find

"We seek the truth, and will endure the consequences."

~ Charles Seymour

Two hours later, Hermione's car pulled up outside her building. She turned the key off with a sigh and shot a glance at Severus sitting next to her in the passenger seat. She couldn't tell if he was angry, bored, or neither. Damn the man for making this so difficult, she thought sullenly as she pulled the keys from the ignition and shoved her door open.

He grudgingly followed, his fluid movements and billowing trench-coat a stark contrast to her stumbling over the curb in her faded track-suit. He was smoking again, having barely left the car before lighting up, and motioned with the hand holding the fag for her to precede him up the walk. She did, glaring at him as she pointedly wrinkled her nose against the acrid smoke.

The moments after they had both realized the exact nature of their situation had been tense to say the least. Neither had wanted to be the first to start the inevitable conversation: Hermione because she was ashamed to admit that she needed help if she were to keep her job, and Severus because he was utterly furious at this turn of events and did not trust himself not to verbally lash out, or worse.

Finally, Hermione had spoken. "What do you think we should do?"

Severus had risen to his feet, not bothering to answer her question. Instead, he scowled down at her as she continued to kneel on his kitchen floor, but she didn't notice. Instead, she flipped her hand at the mess in front of her. "Is there a broom? I… I need to get this up before one of us gets cut…"

Again, Severus didn't answer and brushed past her, exiting through the door at the other end of the kitchen. After a moment, he came back with a broom and dustpan. She stood and moved to take it, but he waved her off. "Go get cleaned up."

She backed off, slightly affronted. "What for?" she asked skeptically.

"What the devil do you think, girl?" he growled, tossing the dustpan onto the countertop. When Hermione continued to stare at him, he sighed, running a weary hand over his face. "Has all the glitter and cigarette smoke finally taken its toll?" Her confused face melted into anger at the comment. Good, he thought, maybe she'll start acting like she's more than a nice pair of tits…

He continued. "Obviously there is no way you can live in your flat and I in mine, at least not simultaneously." He started sweeping up the broken glass, the broom moving with swift, exacting precision. "And there's no chance in hell that I'm about to pack up shop and move. So… you'll simply have to find another place closer to this one. The sooner you start looking the better."

If the first comment hadn't moved her to speak, that one certainly did. "Are you insane? Or has all the alcohol and sex finally taken its toll on you, Severus?"

He paused in his sweeping and raised an eyebrow.

A short bark of cynical laughter was her reply. "Has it not crossed your brilliant mind why I work two jobs, one of which is at a strip club? Why I drive that piece of shit car? I haven't the funds to just up and move, Severus… especially not to this neighborhood." Her voice lowered. "I thought I told you that I can barely afford to live where I do now."

Severus swept up the last of the glass and dumped it into the bin. "What do you suppose we do then? Co-habitate? Become roomies?" She could hear the sneer in his voice from down the hall as he returned the broom and dustpan to their place in the cupboard.

She sighed. Honestly, it was absolutely ludicrous, but what other choice did they really have? He wasn't going to move, the stubborn bastard, and she couldn't afford to. "Well," she said hesitantly, while trying to sound reasonable, "it does seem like the most logical solution."

This time it was his turn to laugh. "Now who's mad? If you think I'm going to share my flat with you… with anyone… you're sadly mistaken, my dear. There must be another way."

Her jaw clenched in anger and utter frustration – she hadn't asked for this! God knows she had cared for the man he had been, the man she had known… but that was years ago. There was nothing left between them now, not counting the debt he owed her. She could care less about the man he had become.

No, she chastised herself, that's not entirely true. She had certainly cared last night when he was in the throes of a nightmare. She closed her eyes against the image of him lying shirtless on his sofa, against the memory of his skin so very warm against her own. She shook it away, telling herself she would not cry… no matter how much of an ass he was to her. She had dealt with far worse than him over the last few years.

"Fine. You decide," she hissed. "Either I can stay here with you and pay my way, or you can pay to get me a new flat in this neighborhood, because I most certainly am not." With that she brushed past him, heading towards the bathroom. "I'll be done in a few. Have it figured out, Severus, since you're so much smarter than me."

He heard the bedroom door slam and scowled in its general direction. What the hell had they gotten themselves into?

The simplest answer is usually the right one… his inner voice whispered. Well, Occam could go fuck himself on this one. He hadn't lived with another person since… well, since he was a child. How in the hell could he manage living with a woman – a woman who clearly felt something for him, even if it was only pity – if last night was any indication?

"Godammit!" he swore, resisting the urge to put his fist through one of the glass cabinet doors. Maybe if he cut himself deep enough, he would be able to focus on something besides her. Sighing in frustration, he walked to his desk and pulled a fag from the pack sitting next to his computer screen. As he lit the end and took a long drag, he truly wondered how he could accomplish such an arrangement without, at worst, killing her out of utter frustration – and thus killing himself – or at best… fucking her.

He sighed again, exhaling a long stream of gray smoke. If he harmed her – killing was, unfortunately, a bit of a stretch – he would probably suffer great personal harm or even death.

If he slept with her…

Hell, who was he kidding? Murder and sex were both the same – nothing but pain, suffering, and torture. The most terrifying part was that he couldn't decide what would be worse, or what he was afraid of most: the pain that would come from harming her, or the pain that would come if he let himself—

No.

He would not even allow his mind to drift in that direction. She was a nuisance… anything he felt for her – Did he? – or her for him, was a compulsion of the life debt, nothing more. He simply needed to find a way to repay her, and then they could both get on with their lives… separately.

So now, as they climbed the narrow, rickety stairs to Hermione's second story flat – moving past the graffiti on the peeling walls and the snoring drunk slumped in the corner – Severus hoped to hell that this… arrangement… might settle things between them.

Hermione, on the other hand, was simply worried about what he would think of her home.

It doesn't matter, she thought as she put the key in the lock and gave the door the hard shove it needed in order to open. What matters is getting this mess straightened out, and if I have to endure his condescension and sneers to do that, then so be it.

Her maudlin thoughts were swept aside upon entering as she was immediately assaulted by a tiny ball of black, mewling fur. "Cheshire!" she exclaimed, and knelt to pull the black kitten into her arms. She proceeded to cover his tiny face with kisses. "Oh, I've missed you!"

Severus sneered at the display and stepped past her into the room, taking a moment to look around. The living room consisted mostly of one huge, threadbare sofa which had once displayed some sort of floral pattern, which was now all but faded away, and a small coffee table holding several old issues of The London Times. A television that looked to be the newest thing – which wasn't saying much – in the room sat on a chest against the far left-hand wall, while two well-cared for ivy plants grew long and lush in the windowsill behind it.

There was a pathetically small row of shelves against the wall that held the door, dotted with several worn and seemingly well-loved books, and straight ahead he could see what appeared to be the kitchen, the floor of which was covered in lemon-yellow linoleum. It was shabby little place, but looked clean and well cared for.

Hermione stood next to him, holding the madly purring kitten to her chest, and sighed. "Well, this is it… home, sweet home." She shoved the door shut with her foot and moved down the small hallway to the kitchen. Severus followed slowly, his hands in his pockets. "Would you like something to drink? I'm afraid I only have bottled water."

"That will be fine," he replied.

She moved to the small icebox and brought him a bottle, which he accepted with a small nod.

She gave him a tight smile. "Um, I won't need much at the moment. Just some clothes and things for… well, work… toiletries, and…" She snuggled the kitten to her, trying to avoid the issue of her place of employment. "Will Cheshire be a problem? I can leave him here, but I'd have to come back everyday to feed him and…"

"Bring the rat, I don't care. The less I have to inconvenience myself the better," Severus said, eyeing the tiny ball of fluff disdainfully.

She ignored the barb and gave the kitten another squeeze, causing it to let out a slightly distressed 'mmrp'.

"Alright." She looked at him, the expression on her face making him slightly uncomfortable. "Thank you, Severus," she said softly, reaching out and giving his free hand a gentle squeeze.

He pulled away with the pretense of opening his water, giving her a small, curt nod. She smiled tightly. "I'll just be a moment." Setting the kitten down, she moved off down the hallway to the recesses of the apartment.

The black ball of fur sat back on its haunches and stared up at Severus, haughty appraisal in its green eyes. The two black-haired males sized each other up for a moment until Severus prodded the tiny kitten gently with the toe of his boot. "Shoo," he said. Cheshire simply batted one tiny black paw at the offending foot. "Obstinate like your owner," he murmured, moving past the cat in search of Hermione. Cheshire launched himself at his ankle, and Severus sidestepped the impromptu attack with a small huff of amusement. "Hermione?" he called, walking towards the back of the flat.

There was no reply, so he walked down the hallway to his left, which was the only way she could have gone. There was only a small bathroom on the left-hand side and a small bedroom at the end. This was where he found her. He leaned against the doorframe and observed her. She sat on the edge of her bed, her back facing the doorway. The room was, like the rest of the flat, small but well-kept. The double bed took up most of the room, its red duvet a stark contrast to the plain white walls. There was a small nightstand on the side that Hermione sat on, its top drawer hanging open at an odd angle.

At the foot of the bed was a trunk. As his eyes ran over the aged wood, the leather straps and silver clasps, a memory flashed back at him – a virtual sea of black-robed children, stone and flames, a feast of untold grandeur, smiles and laughter and companionship. He shook it away ruefully and went back to his observations.

Immediately across from the door was a window, and underneath sat a small desk. There were bits and pieces of clothing scattered about, as if Hermione had taken them off in a hurry and flung them away from her in a snit. The sun shone through the window, and his eyes caught on something small, white, and covered in sparkling rhinestones.

He stepped casually into the room, stopping next to the desk and fingering the small scrap of glittering lace that hung from the back of the chair. His eyes darkened ever so slightly as the smooth fabric rubbed against his fingers. He slipped them underneath the material, lifting it up a bit.

A thong? How… interesting.

Cutting his eyes to where she sat on the bed, her back still mostly to him, he sneered, and with the grace of a master thief, pocketed the scrap of material.

She must know he was there by now, so he turned to her, intent on telling her to hurry the hell up. He stopped himself when he saw that she was clutching a box in her lap – small, rectangular, and black – with an intricate, interwoven lock on the front. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the whiteness of her knuckles as she gripped the edges of the black wood. Another memory flashed through his mind, and his right hand twitched as the muscles remembered: ebony and dragon-heartstring, 15 inches… unyielding yet pliable. His heart beat in this throat, for he knew exactly what the small, dark box contained…

He owned one just like it.

His right hand flexed again, his fingers brushing the soft lace in his pocket. Unbidden, the words, "How long?" fell softly from his lips.

Hermione stiffened. "What? I… I don't know what you mean…" The tremor in her voice would have been obvious to a deaf man.

"Don't play stupid, Hermione." He stepped around the edge of the bed, wanting to see her face. She turned away from him and he sighed. Damn her for bringing this upon him. He spoke slowly, using all the hypnotic power his voice could hold. She needed to listen; she needed to know.

"There are some things in our lives that we can never truly escape from," he said, "like scars hiding themselves under carefully applied cosmetics. They are there… we know they are… even though we may not be able to see them when we look in the mirror; even though we may wish to forget." The last was said in barely more than a whisper.

She huffed at him, her voice watery with unshed tears. "You should write greeting cards, Professor."

He ignored the use of his former title, instead stepping forward and reaching out with one long index finger to lift her chin. She gave the barest hint of resistance, but eventually turned her eyes to his, her lips set into a frown.

"How long, Hermione?" he whispered again, his voice black silk over sharpest steel. "How long since you've used your magic?"

A deep, shuddering sigh escaped her, and she snatched her chin out of his grasp. So, here they were finally. They had skipped around the subject – she had wondered why she never saw him perform magic, but didn't ask. She was sure the feeling was mutual. Wiping at her eyes, she gave another short, sad laugh. "Why do you care?"

He continued to stand over her, his dark trenchcoat brushing the edges of the red comforter that covered her bed. "I don't."

Liar… Once more his fingers tightened around the lace in his pocket.

She laughed again, shaking her head at his apparent cruelness. "Of course you don't care… yet you stand there and ask me such a personal question? You might as well ask me when was the last time I made love…"

He snorted at the comment.

She remained silent but he could see the tightening of her jaw.

Finally, "About two months…" she whispered.

"That's all?" he said, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

"Yes, that's all. It was a year before that…." She ran her hands reverently over the enchanted box that contained her wand. "I know it's childish and silly, but as much as I've come to hate that world, I lied to you when I said I left completely. I use it once a year, on my birthday. In fact, the box is charmed to only open on that day… so I won't be tempted."

She turned to him then, and the emotions on her face were frightening. They almost… almost made him want to take her in his arms and tell her it would be alright, even though he knew it wouldn't be.

"I can feel it, Severus. I can feel it in my very soul. Churning… writhing just under the surface… begging to be let out. My magic knows what I am… it knows what I am no matter how hard I may try to deny it… to push it away."

She stood, and he watched her warily as she stepped slowly towards him, the black box still held in her hands. He visibly tensed when she stepped so close that he could feel the heat from her body radiating into his own.

"The harder it gets pushed away, Severus, the harder it pushes back. I… I've been thinking, and I believe that in a way… that's how we ended up here…"

A shadow crossed her face as they gazed at each other for a long moment, brown eyes locked with black. Finally, she broke contact and moved past him. "I'll just be a few more minutes."

As he watched her walk back down the hall, her last words rang in his ears.

'The harder it gets pushed away…'

'That's how we ended up here…'

What did she know? What had she done?

He knew that something had happened in the last few months to compel the magic to bring them together – to cause him to move from Spinner's End and her to come to work at the Doll. He scowled angrily; as far as he knew – and he was almost certain she did as well, the lying bint – there was no statute of limitations on a life debt, not in any normal case. Something drastic, something devastating, something far worse than he could have ever imagined, had happened in order for the magic to act.

Suddenly, a cold wave of realization swept over him.

His brain finally caught up with itself, and the answer hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut. Anger unlike any he had felt in recent memory – even more than the previous night at the Doll – came boiling to the surface. Anger at Hermione for what she had done, anger at himself for not realizing sooner, and anger at the magic for bringing them together and making it his fucking problem.

There being together was no accident; it was deliberate.

There was only one thing that could have provoked the magic of the Life Debt… only one thing that could have brought him to her against his will.

Hermione had tried to kill herself.

~TBC

A/N: Has it really been six months since I updated? Geez… I suck! This chapter was a biatch to write, and while it was not my original intent for it to end this way, as always, things happen like they will. I simply couldn't bring myself to change it… and nothing else worked. So, let me know what you think. Reviews are love!