A/N: W.O.W. 5 reviews on just the first chapter...O.O...I am indebted to you! *bows* Here's chapter two, so let's double that, eh? XOXO :) Scenes that look familiar are from DH; Chapter 33; pages 675-76, The Prince's Tale. But you knew that right?

She was acutely aware of being in the presence of another, it was akin to the feeling of being watched, only slightly different. The fog had gotten heavier lately, as if she was going the wrong way. She didn't stop or turn, if she did she might not make it to whatever lay on the other side. She heard the sound of grass, of what seemed to be ground beneath her feet.

Curious, she called out, "Hello?"

But only silence greeted her, she wrapped her arms tighter around herself, walking faster through the haze, wanting some place warm as this fog had become cold. She almost had the flash of thinking rain was coming. She could almost smell the delightful scent of fresh rain, mingling with the rising smell of freshly cut grass. If she listened she could hear trees being thrown about by a nice wind, the grass making a constant hissing sound.

She closed her eyes on the haze to sigh and opened them to the meadow she had imagined. It was stunningly beautiful. The color of the grass was unusual. It was the most lush green she'd ever seen, a deep green. The trees were just a shade lighter. The sky was cloudy, nighttime skies filled with stars and the lazily hanging moon shining light onto the ground at her feet. About twenty feet from where she stood was a dark blue plaid cover laid out flat on the ground. She walked forward and sat, looking at the surrounding trees, amazed. What was this place? She shivered and the wind died down a little. She frowned and began thinking...I need a fire, a nice warm fire. She opened her eyes to just that, flames teasing and dancing with logs placed neatly together.

Smiling, she stretched out her fingers, warming herself. Whatever this place was, it was very comforting, aside from being attacked by vicious shadows and cradling what had said they were her Professor. She thought of the boy, alone and scared. He had clung to her, seeming to be his only protection. He needed her, but she couldn't understand why. She thought she might have to talk to the real Professor soon, she had questions. She closed her eyes, envisioned a teapot with water in it and packets for the drink. She imagined a stick contraption she'd seen in old pictures to hold the pot. She placed the pot on it, letting the water heat, it felt nice to do something normal.

He felt a presence and was immediately on guard. More of those fiendish shadows and a little girl version of the Know-It-All was likely. He paused in his walking, staring into the fog, looking for something. He dug in his pocket for his wand, but found nothing. He was unarmed. This did not bode well, nor did it reassure him. He narrowed his eyes to the dense surroundings, watching for movement.

The only thing moving was his own body, aside from the swirling of the fog. He felt the tick start in his jaw. All those years teaching those dunderheads about proper timing, adequate attention, the simple necessities of brewing and yet it never failed that one out of two would blow something up. He had placed his hopes too high that this year would be different. Even defeating the greatest dark wizard to terrorize the world couldn't make them smart up.

He tugged his cloak around himself, trying to fight the sudden cold. He was uncomfortable and wished he was back in his quarters in front of his fire. He need to start this day over. This cold made him think of dementors, all writhing and dark, menacing like those shadows. He glanced around again, smelling rain. The strong feeling of wind made him think of that night, standing opposite Dumbledore with his dignity gone, pleading for the life of his true love. How long had it been since then? He shook his head, focusing on the sound of crunching grass. Where was he now?

He arched a brow as with every blink the place around him changed. He saw a large meadow, green grass being moved by the breeze. He noticed the trees and the moonlight sky and clouds. He stepped forward and saw a light. A flickering light in the distance, casting a glow upon a woman. He ran towards her, thoughts of questioning, threatening, he needed his question answered.

As he neared the light he saw a fire, then he saw the woman. Long curls, not bushy but still wild, almost black in the firelight, she was wearing what he remembered her wearing in class, sans her school robe: a pair of jeans and a black long-sleeved cotton shirt. She was smiling faintly into the flames, sipping from a white cup.

He was pulled up short by her, for an unknown reason he was speechless. He gazed at her for a few more moments. She looked up just as he was about to speak and she smiled more.

"Oh, Professor!" she jumped up, rushing over to him. For a second they both thought she was going to hug him. She paused mid-hug, dropping her arms quickly. She blushed, gazing quietly up at him through her lashes. A moment of awkward silence reigned over the area.

"You aren't an illusion, right, sir? You're not going to just up and disappear?" her voice was wavery, like she was about to cry. She wasn't, she had no reason to cry, not right now. She was happy, even if it was the Professor that hated her, it was nice to be in the company of someone living.

"I'm not an illusion, Miss Granger. Rest assured, I'm not going to disappear." He said, gesturing for her to sit again. She nodded, sitting down. She watched him, amazed that she wasn't alone. But how had he gotten here?

"Would you like some hot chocolate?" she asked.

He glanced around at the fire, the pot, and the cup in her hand. "How am I--?"

She shook her head, closed her eyes and thought of another cup. She served him, smiling.

"This place is so odd. If you think, it will appear. I couldn't get a wand though." She explained, stretching back and setting her cup down. "How did you get here?"

He sipped from the cup, savored the taste, then looked at her. She was laying flat, her hands behind her head, her legs crossed. She looked peaceful.

"I was covered in the potion as well, Miss Granger."

She smiled and leaned up to take another sip. When she resumed her position she closed her eyes and another cover appeared. She wrapped this around her before speaking again.

"No. I mean, how did you get here? This meadow?"

He looked at the meadow again, unsure. All he had done was wish for warmth.

"I...I was cold, so I was thinking about warmth and the next I knew I was here."

She nodded, wriggling under the cover like some sort of worm. "Same as me. I found it first though. I had to fight a shadow man."

He frowned, taking another gulp of the hot chocolate. "Why were you fighting it?"

She bit her lip before quietly muttering. "He was hurting you."

This made his frown deepen. She watched his reaction, not sure if she should continue. "Me? But I was fighting my own shadows protecting you."

It was her turn to frown. "I fought your father, you were young. He was beating you, he threw me around. He said your mother was dead, said no one was there for you."

His eyebrows came together then parted before meeting again. "My father? What--you fought for me?"

She smiled slightly, thinking out his possible reactions. But he had fought for her, right? He did say that...

"I did. I couldn't stand by and watch him do that to you, illusion or not, it was wrong." She sipped her drink, sitting back up now, the cover wrapped around her back. "But who did you fight?"

"A boy named Billy Langston and his two shadowy friends."

Hermione giggled. "Oh, not that idiot! I loathed that boy. He beat me up for no good reason almost all of elementary. I had nightmares for years..." She sobered, nodding to her Professor. She raised her cup in a toast. "Well, thank you...sir."

He hesitated, tapping her cup but not saying anything. He wanted out of here...talking to this gir--woman like she was his friend, drinking hot chocolate and sitting on a cover in a meadow near a fire...it wasn't right. They weren't meant to be here. As soon as he thought this the fog returned, swallowing the meadow and sending them into darkness.

A small hand touched his chest, then traveled to his neck, his cheek, his hair. He shivered, grasping the hand with his own. He heard a sigh and then felt another hand on his. It felt oddly comforting, like the warmth after the cold. He stepped back and felt through the darkness till the fog seemed to lighten up. He glanced back and saw her holding his hand, shoving her hair behind her ears as she squinted through the fog. He looked to their hands.

Why did it feel so right? He felt safer with her hand in his and it confused him.

She watched his eyes as he thought, until suddenly the area was dark. Immediately she was frightened. This place could not be trusted. She stood, the cover gone along with all the other things she had imagined. She reached out, touching something solid. She trailed her hand up, trying to discern what it was. It was warm, that much was certain. She touched a cheek, or at least that's what she supposed. She trailed it further, meeting soft, silky hair. She frowned, could it be--?

A hand touched hers, sending a shiver down her spine, she sighed happily. He wasn't gone. She never thought in her wildest dreams she'd be happy to be holding Professor Snape's hand...but right now she didn't care. The fact that the blood running through his veins made him alive, warm and real was enough. She wasn't alone. His hand held hers and she brought her other hand up.

They were moving, walking through the heavy, blinding fog. Suddenly it lifted and she clearly saw again. He was looking around suspiciously. He turned to her, his eyes burning into hers. She felt her breath catch. He looked at their hands and she nodded dropping it quickly. He probably didn't want her touching him. She'd really never seen anyone touching him, much less holding his hand.

He looked at the now cold hand, wondering why he wanted to grab her hand again. This wasn't right, he needed time to think. He gazed around and he distinctly had the urge to go left. He walked forward and she followed, her light footsteps and his the only sound.

She observed his walk, the way his arms barely swung, his legs move surely, as though he had been here before. His back was incredibly straight, his posture perfect. She had always envied that. He could be as crazy as a banshee and still walk like an aristocrat. He turned again and she followed, unsure as to where they were headed to.

She thought of Harry and Ron in that moment, wondering what they would be doing, who would be taking her from the class to the infirmary...how long had they been in here? Surely dream time and real time were dissimilar? She bit her lip, staring at nothing in particular. Did this realm deal like Narnia? Would they wake after this, stuck in the same class room, having lived countless light years past the people surrounding them?

Minerva and Dumbledore remained near the pairs beds as long as possible, Minerva ending up leaving first, going about her business. They had been sleeping for three days. Though Albus was patient and understanding, she feared for them. They were each like her children and she felt that they were slowly slipping away. She made it to her office in enough time and with enough of her strength to make it to her quarters before she collapsed. She sobbed, praying, wishing, hoping they'd come out alright.

Albus stared at their faces, both in peaceful tranquility, both unaware to the outside world. He touched their hands again and closed his eyes.

"Be strong now and return." He whispered, slipping his hand from theirs and clasping them on his lap.

Severus stopped suddenly and the thinking woman behind him kept walking. He felt her bounce off his back and he turned to her. She was looking embarrassed.

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking."

He didn't feel like yelling at her so he nodded. Yes, they needed out of here. The confinement was changing him and he wasn't sure he liked it. He began walking again and the fog transformed to a hallway in Hogwarts. His eyes widened as he stared. Not with Granger here!

She saw the hall, the oh, so familiar hall. This was right outside the Gryffindor common room. A girl appeared and looked at the Professor. She knew that face from the pictures Harry had shown her. That was Lily Evans, a young Lily Evans. The girl didn't look happy. Her night clothes were on and Hermione looked out a window to see the night sky. Why were they here? The Professor stepped forward, a slightly fearful look on his face. Lily scowled fiercely and put her hands on her hips.

"Lily." the pleading tone in his voice shocked her. He sounded like a teen, lost and hurt. "I'm sorry."

Hermione stepped forward, but both of them ignored her, facing each other. It was as if the Professor became part of the memory-like action. He had his hands out in surrender, begging the woman. Hermione was pained. Lily was dead. It wasn't right for him to keep thinking he could change this. She'd seen this memory in the pensieve that he had left Harry when he went away from Hogwarts. He couldn't hold onto this.

"I'm not interested." the girl said, her arms then crossed in front of her, a furious air about her. Hermione was compelled to defend him, she could do that. But this was his issue, not hers. She couldn't possibly be connected.

"I'm sorry!" he cried, trying with all his might.

The girl simply spat at him. "Save your breath." It was so calmly angry, she wondered if this girl had ever cared for him like a friend. Of all the things that Harry and Ron had gone through with her, there was never a moment in time when she felt she could truly abandon them. Regardless of insults, situations, disagreements, lies, truths, pain, or betrayal, she would never leave them. Her heart couldn't handle it. "I only came out here because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here."

The Professor seemed compelled to repeat everything he'd said, forced to re-enact something that had plagued him ever since it had happened. She stepped forward, but it was as if she was invisible.

"I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just--"

"Slipped out?" She sounded vindictive, almost vengeful. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends--" He didn't retort and she smirked. "--you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be!" Lily stepped forward, a finger pointed towards him, green eyes narrowed. "You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?"

It was like an insult, like a biting remark meant to cut. He gaped almost like a fish, unable to find solid evidence against her theory. He closed his mouth, his eyes diminishing some.

"I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine." It was said with finality, a person ending something they'd wanted to end from the beginning.

He grasped onto the only chance he had left, trying to touch her, hold her hand and convey his remorse and inner good.

"No--" she pulled away from him. "--listen, I didn't mean--"

Lily sighed as she stepped away, through with this conversation. "--to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus, Why should I be any different?"

Hermione could read his reply, lingering on his tongue, shining from his eyes. Because I love you! But his mouth didn't move again with words to her, she didn't listen to what he might have said. She glared at him and left him there. She just walked away. The Professor hit the ground, his shoulders shaking, his hands over his face. She felt like crying for him. All his hopes and dreams had just been decimated, destroyed by a single word and words unspoken. She rushed to him, unable to do anything but hold him. He shook like he was dying from a mortal wound, and Hermione thought, he might just be.

When he had seen her, he had known what would happen. He knew this scene, this moment in time better than anything else. She had abandoned him, left him out her alone...to die. He couldn't stand any longer, couldn't hold his own weight when he knew this body would not be his any longer. He felt the earth meeting his knees and wished it would swallow him. Even in a dreamworld he was doomed to be left here alone. He cried then, wondering why the Fates were so cruel. Never once had they favored him. They put him on this earth, ugly and unwanted, but allowed him to feel. Allowed for the emotions of the world to affect him. He was shattering now, breaking apart all over again. For years he had held her as his north star, led by the things that made him good in her eyes. But there was only so many things he could avoid. Didn't she realize he had no choice, that if he denied You-Know-Who he would be just another victim of the Lord? He shuddered as arms enveloped him, warming him from the cold artic hell that was crawling around him. He turned, needing to be held without knowing it.

It was a girl, he could barely see her through his tears, but she was holding him. He thought of Lily, up in her dorm room, happy in the knowledge that they were no longer friends. Why? Why was she killing him like this? Hadn't he been a good friend, a shoulder when she didn't have one? But as he thought about it, he never actually told her that he cared for her beyond what was their friendship. Maybe if he called her back down...or was this Lily, holding him and muttering softly in his ear? He grasped her face and kissed her, wanting to convince her that he was more than she thought.

Hermione was caught off guard. Were those his lips on hers? He...He wasn't kissing her, was he? He pushed her back and she was backed against the wall. She still had her arms around his back. He held her hips, then hugged her to him. She didn't fight, whether because he needed this, needed to know he wasn't alone or because he was so skillful, she wasn't sure. His eyes were closed, his hair wild around his head. He was trying to press his tongue into her mouth. She stopped him. This wasn't her Professor, this was the boy who'd been crushed in the hall. She held him from kissing her, waiting for him to open his eyes. He finally did and he looked hurt.

"You aren't Lily." he muttered, stepping away. He started to walk back to the Fat Lady's portrait, about to settle in for the night. She grabbed his hand before he totally disengaged it.

"Professor...you have to let this go. You can't change what happened." she said, holding his hand tighter when he tried to pull it away.

He glared at her. "Stop acting like you know me." he growled, stepping away. She ran forward and hugged him. He fought against her, but there was no real intention to get her away. He put up a good show though, trying to pull her away. But eventually he melted, crying against her, burying his face in her hair and letting it out. She let him, unsure if she should say anything. It didn't seem like the right time. They remained like that in the hall, him supported against her, relieving his pain.

"Let it go." she mumbled, pulling him from her hair. She looked in his eyes and she saw something there. He sniffed, stepping back.

"How? I love her...she left me alone. I can't let her go."

Hermione shook her head. "No. You don't have to let her go. She will be with you always. But it isn't about letting her go. It's about letting this go. You've held onto this for too long, letting it fester inside and eat your heart." She grabbed his face, the face of her Professor, lost, hurt and searching. He was so vulnerable, so unguarded in this moment. She brushed his hair away from his face, just like she had when he was a child in her arms. "Love her. Keep her in your heart forever...but let this go."

His eyebrows were working, his mouth poised to speak. He touched her hair and frowned.

"Why are you helping me?"

It was simple, straightforward. And would most likely be answered with the most Gryffindor of answers. She couldn't care enough to be helping him. No one ever did. She smiled faintly and he saw the tear marks on her face, trails that led to her chin before disappearing. Had she been crying for him? She brushed his hair back again and he felt something...something deep. They were connected somehow and he couldn't explain it.

"Because everyone deserves to have someone, Professor. We came in this world alone, but we don't, and shouldn't, have to live in it alone."

He stared at her, confused as to why she would feel obligated to be his someone. Surely out of all the people in the world, he was not the one she would extend her hand to? She had been holding him, her arms almost like a familiar warmth, melting any fears he had away. Though they needed to leave, he wasn't sure he wanted to. He had found something in this dream realm that he couldn't readily find in the real one.

In that moment he did in fact let go, the scene dissolving around them. But it wasn't fog that met their eyes. It was a living room, a regular muggle living room. He had hugged her back, liking the smell of her hair. He was smiling for the first time in a long time and he didn't want this moment to end. Until he heard her say in a wounded, almost wincing, tone.

"Mum?"

A/N: Alrighty then!!! Chapter Two, hope you loved it. As with every chapter, please review and let me know what you're thinking. XOXO