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She tugged nervously on the hem of her overly large t-shirt as she tried to think of a way to rationalize what she had heard, or perhaps convince herself that she hadn't heard it at all.

It was only when she looked up that she was forced to accept the obvious. It was his eyes. They pierced her very soul with their sharp black knives, scraping past any barriers she thought she had erected and seeing all of her. Judging all of her.

"How can you know?" the words slipped like butter from her tongue. And then encouraged by her focusing thoughts, more furiously she added, "How can you tell? How can you know - when everyone else -"

She stopped as her voice broke, her words cut off by her straying mind, it wasn't everyone that she cared about, it was just the one, the one that above all should have been able to tell...

Severus still stood in the same position. Steady and silent, and judging with those hard black eyes. If anything he might have moved backwards from her. Pushing himself against the wall, wanting to be as far from her as possible, like she was dirty.

"Maybe it is my constant association with murderers, or being one myself. Perhaps it makes it easier to recognize one," he sneered at her.

It took her only three strides to cross the room, her hand raised above her to slap his cheek. He caught her before she could of course, his long thin fingers digging bruisingly into her wrist.

Ashamedly she whimpered under his cold malice filled face. She suddenly wished she hadn't crossed the room. Wished she had stayed away, that his face wouldn't be so close right now. That she wouldn't have to see how much he truly despised her ... how much he must blame her.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and he released her, throwing her hand away from his grasp with such force that she almost fell to the ground. She didn't, though she stumbled a little. Her tears chocked her throat and she raised her hands to her face, as much to wipe them away as to block the hateful gaze of the wizard in front of her.

She felt cold. She wished she had taken the time to grab her robe. She wished he would comfort her. She wished he would wrap her in his arms and take away her pain.

But he didn't.

They stood in silence; her erratic sobs the only break to the building tension of the room.

"How could you do this?" Was she talking about the headmaster or herself? She did not know.

She could see him raise an eyebrow, wise to the duplicity of her question. He choose, however, only to answer one side of its plea, "I did kill Albus. I will not deny it, but only know that there was more in play than what Potter witnessed."

"He asked you to it didn't he?" Hermione asked one of the suspicions that had been plaguing her every since Harry had described the pure look of revulsion that had crossed Severus' face as he had cast the curse.

Severus flinched visibly at her words, but did not answer. Hermione thought he need not have too, she could read him better than Harry could, she could see the pain that filled his very being even thinking of that night.

Severus seemed to have taken her silent acceptance as the prompt to end that particular conversation. His eyes hardened once more and his mouth moved, words slipping from his tongue like a well rehearsed speech that needed no thought behind its content.

"I have information for the Order, obviously I am unable to deliver it myself. Therefore, you will give it to them for me." His voice was hard and detached; she scrambled to right herself and allow herself to listen to his words, absorbing them as if it was one of his lectures. "I do not care for what you tell them how you got the information. They might however be reluctant to accept the information from such a source as I for sometime, it hence might be prudent to leave my part out of this for now."

He had been looking ahead but now his eyes snapped to her.

"I will not allow his sacrifice to go to waste. Make sure they get this and make sure they use it."

His eyes swept up and down her shivering form.

"How did you know that I would be here?"

"I didn't," was his short reply.

"But you might have died. They would have killed you on sight. Severus -"

"I had no choice...I had to try."

He pulled out a thick roll of parchment from his long black robes and tapped his wand to the scroll. She could see the words appearing as the concealment charm was lifted.

So absorbed was she in the magical scroll that she almost missed the movement that was Severus as he turned to leave.

"Wait. Please..."

He stopped before he reached the door but he did not turn to face her.

"Severus please," she talked quickly as if trying to beat him before he would change his mind and leave. "I didn't plan for this to happen, I didn't mean for it -"

"STOP!" he turned, his face was furious and it was more that than his words that stopped her flow of speech.

"I do not want to hear one. More. Word.

"Lily is dead, and it is your fault!

"I may have murdered Albus but I had NO choice! You, however, knew. You could have stopped it. And you didn't... You made your choice and I'm not sure if I can ever forgive you."

There was nothing she could say. Every word he had spoken was true.

It was her fault that Lily was dead. She had known, and he was right she had the opportunity to warn someone, anyone, yet she had done nothing... said nothing.

Severus was the more the victim than she could ever be, forced to physically commit the murder of his friend and watch as all those he knew turned their backs on him, ready to kill him on sight if he dared approach them.

Tears fell down her cheeks again and seemingly satisfied Severus took this as his sign to leave.

She didn't watch him go but she still heard his soft spoken words as he pushed the door open and stepped into the dark night.

"You said you would be there for me..."

oOo

"Mr Shacklebolt! - Ouch!" Hermione stumbled as her foot caught on the edge of a large box stationed outside of the library door.

She rubbed her foot as she stared accusingly at the heavy cardboard box.

"Sorry Hermione," Kingsley's rich warm voice soothed as he bent down to pick the box up and place it with the rest. A small pile was assembled outside of one of the spare rooms.

"Did you want something?" he enquired as she realized she had been staring at the boxes a little too long.

"Um - yeah..."

Kingsley nodded for her to go on as he leant to pick up another box and take it into the room, it looked heavy.

"Why don't you just use magic?" she couldn't help but ask as the Auror set the box down inside and appeared again for another.

"Whatever for?" he asked genuinely as he picked up the next one.

Hermione shook her head to stop her gaze from straying to his rounded biceps for any longer than was necessary, for she suspected they had already been doing that.

Kinsley's melodious laugh filled her ears and she couldn't help blushing as she ducked her head in embarrassment settling her gaze on her hands instead and the thick scroll they held.

The scroll! Right.

"Ah... Mr Shacklebolt?"

"Yes, Hermione? And please, call me Kingsley," he smiled at her as he came back into the hall for his next load.

"Um thanks, ah...Kingsley," stop blushing! "But actually I have...something, for you, and ah...well the Order I guess."

"Mmm?" Kingsley rested from his activity, leaning his elbow against the stack of boxes and giving her his full attention.

"It's from what Harry and I, and Ron I mean...well what we've been doing." She felt guilty about the lie but she hadn't been able to think of another way that night and she didn't want to wait any longer in case the information was time-hinged which it undoubtedly would be.

Kingsley raised an eyebrow as he extended his hand.

She looked confusedly at his hand for a moment before she remembered the parchment in clasped in her hands and hurriedly handed it over.

He unrolled it and she watched as his eyebrows continued to rise. She imagined that if he had had any hair they would have quite disappeared beneath it.

She suddenly felt extremely nervous. She hadn't read the parchment. Should have read the parchment? Of course she should have - she had just given it to the Order - but she trusted Severus didn't she? Of course she did. Her internal debate was cut off as Kingsley rose from the parchment, he had barely read and inch of its length but he seemed completely shocked and worried at it's contents.

"How did you get this?" his voice was stern and she felt impossible small next to him.

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you." She almost shook with nerves as he looked between the parchment and the young witch in front of him, deciding where his trust should lie.

"But you say this is, in a way, from Dumbledore? He asked you to do this?" Hermione gulped down her conscience as she spilt the somewhat lie, "Yes".

"Please, just please, promise to consider using it!" Hermione felt the need to reiterate it's importance.

He nodded slowly before he rolled up the paper. "If this information is correct, you have just saved unaccountable lives Hermione."

She nodded, hating to accept the praise for Severus' sacrifices.

"Tell Tonks I'll help her unpack tomorrow," Hermione flinched a little at her name but Kingsley didn't seem to notice, "I'm going to take this to the Order now."

"Thank you," she said, but he may not have heard her, he was already halfway down the hallway.

oOo

Boxes.

They were everywhere.

They were haunting her.

Reminding her that there was only one day left.

Just one day left of peaceful loneliness.

Harry and Ron came back, unharmed and horcrux-less.

She was just glad that they were safe.

She wanted them to keep her busy, keep her distracted, but unfortunately they didn't want to talk about horcruxes. Dejected from their unsuccessful search they wanted a couple of days to 'rest'.

Hermione couldn't really argue with them but now she was stuck with the boxes.

The damned cardboard articles that haunted her throughout the house and in every room.

She had been trying not to think of the day that Remus and Tonks were to be joining them at Grimmauld Place. She didn't know what she had wanted. Did she really not want them there? Or did she secretly hope that Remus, in everyday contact with her would realize her return. Perhaps, before her visit from Severus she had really hoped the latter. But now? What if he felt the same? She had left him. She had left him alone. She had lied to him. She was responsible for his friends' deaths, their betrayals. How could he still care for her? If he found out, would he be more likely to kill her?

She wanted to burn those damn boxes.

It was late in the afternoon as she sat in the library contemplating the best hex that would incinerate the book filled boxes that stared at her from the corner.

Frustrated she left the room and went to seek a place safe from their haunting presence. She could go back to her own room but she had been sitting there all morning and didn't really feel like going back there.

When she finally stopped her search she was outside of the attic. She smiled grimly as she remembered the room as the one Sirius would use to escape to, feeding scraps of meat to Buckbeak; she would sometimes come up here to sit with him too. They would sit in silence. Sirius had always treated her different then all the other adults, he had been so relaxed around her...

She brushed away the tears as she opened the door.

It was deep in shadows but she knew her way to the place they would use to sit.

Only there was a box in her way.

She screamed. Unable to bear it any longer. She pushed the box with all her might.

She was actually surprised when it did indeed bow to her pressure and topple on its side. She felt some surreal kind of satisfaction as she watched its contents roll out of its flimsily closed flaps.

She sat on the floor as she listened to the objects roll around and bounce of each other until they extinguished their momentum.

The commotion ended with a muffled thud as a small worn red leather book fell to its side.

The small rays of light that battled their way through the lone grubby window in the dingy attic illuminated the book's battered front and Hermione couldn't help but stare at it. There was something about the book that she couldn't quite place. Its cover was faded, the edges of the leather curled. It looked like a thoroughly worn and loved book. But at the same time it looked...odd. It took her a few minutes to place her discontent with the small object. Yes the red leather front was faded, the leather damaged by its years and constant handling, but the pages...the pages looked as new as they were bound today.

She barely remembered to breathe as she launched herself the small distance across the room, crawling towards the book... it couldn't be...could it?

As if they had been waiting for her touch the book's cover jumped to meet her hand as her diary recognized her magical signature and bared its pages for the first time in over 20 years.

She flipped through the pages; just enough to see that it was exactly how she had left it. Obviously the charm had lasted. Although it seemed to have been attempted, judging on the war-torn cover, the diary had survived untouched all these years. She put the book down as she reached to pull the box closer.

She sat in the attic all afternoon. When the sun set, she lit her wand to give her the light to continue. The box held her life. Everything she had ever owned in that time or even touched seemed to be within the box, all of her clothes, even some of his, photos, more photos than she had ever remembered posing for. There were some things that she would have to place in her hand, turning them over in her hand as she turned her memories through her mind before she could settle a connection to the thing.

She was confused.

What did the box mean?

Why had he kept all these things?

Did he...NO! She couldn't hope, she couldn't wonder, she couldn't do that to herself...she had to leave the box.

But she couldn't.

Wasn't the box proof that he has at least once loved her? To keep such little things, all that reminded him of her...

oOo

Harry found her.

Curled up asleep on the hard wooden floor of the attic.

He pushed away the box in front of her, not sparing a glance to its contents as fought his way to her through the junk.

She was sound asleep. She was clutching onto a man's shirt but when he tried to pull it away from her she seemed to grip it even tighter. Not wanting to risk waking her he allowed her to keep hold of the old shirt as he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the drafty attic and down towards her own room.

He sighed as he laid her gently on her bed. She still clutched the shirt to her chest, her head burrowing down to brush against the material.

Harry knew something was wrong with his friend. Perhaps it was wrong of him and Ron to shut her out of this horcrux thing so much? ...They were only trying to protect her.

Harry knew she hadn't been sleeping well. He had the room next to hers and could hear her tossing around during the night.

She looked so peaceful now though.

He swept a lock of hair away from her eyes and bent down to kiss her cheek.

She hummed contently in her sleep.

With a wave of his wand her blankets rose up to tuck around her and he left her to her much needed peaceful sleep.