Author's Note: Wow, you guys are crazy about Severus! I thought you'd be mad at him for what he did, but no: you're going after Hermione! So interesting. But I promise there's a legitimate reason she's scared (yes, not angry, scared), and you'll find that out in chapter 16.

Chapter 15: Anywhere You Could Find Me

"Now wait, wait, wait for me

Please hang around

I'll see you when I fall asleep"

- Of Monsters and Men, "Little Talks"

"Alright, that's enough for tonight. Remember, your potions O.W.L.S. begin at ten o'clock on the dot tomorrow in the Great Hall. Please do not embarrass me by being late."

The exhausted group of fifth years gathered their books, for once, quiet.

"You lot..." Severus coughed. "Erm... you have accomplished a great deal this term. You should be proud. I wish you luck on your exams."

The entire room of sleepy-eyed teenagers stared at him. First, their most loathed potions master had scheduled an additional, optional study session to help them prepare for their O.W.L.S., and now he was being... kind?

Severus knew he was acting out of character, but he no longer had it in him to be unkind.

"Well go on, off to bed with the lot of you!" He growled. That seemed to appease the students; they quickly scurried out of his dungeon classroom.

When the room was empty, Severus wasn't sure if he was relieved, or if he wished to prolong the session just a bit longer. His students had the odious task of taking the Ministry examinations tomorrow, and yet, he envied them. His own difficult task lay before him, one that would test him even more.

Stalling, he tidied the books on his desk without magic and put out the floating candles one by one. Finally, he had no choice but to get on with it. He cast a disillusionment charm over himself-he couldn't risk being seen-and felt the familiar cool, wet sensation slipping down his skin. Then he left the dungeons.

The Fat Lady's portrait swung open for him, no password necessary. She protested a moment, then fell asleep again, her snores echoing in the corridor. Severus crept through the Gryffindor common room, his only obstacle a pair of fifth-year girls fallen asleep over their textbooks. He climbed the stairs to the highest point, meeting a heavy oak door. He removed the charm and raised his hand to knock before he noticed a faint light coming from beneath the Head Girl's door.

"Alohomora." He whispered, and the latch flipped with a click. Then he was inside, his back pressed to the door, and Hermione staring at him a surprised expression that quickly turned angry.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded, her voice angry but quiet. For a moment, Severus couldn't move, or speak. He only looked at her, sitting on her bed, her messy hair piled on her head, her familiar pink pajamas.

"I- I..." he stuttered. His resolve was weakening already. He could see the skin of her belly just slightly above her waistband. He inhaled deeply. "I have something to say to you," he said finally.

Hermione slammed shut her book and stood to face him. "Don't you think you've said it all already, in your letters?"

He hadn't been prepared for her to be hostile. "I-you didn't respond," he replied stupidly.

"What was I supposed to say? She asked. He couldn't answer that. What could he expect her to say? How could she want to be with someone she couldn't trust?

"It doesn't matter." He said simply. He had to say what he came here to say. "Because I'm leaving."

"What?" She looked slightly shocked, and it was uncomfortably satisfying to Severus.

He nodded. "At the end of the term. I've given McGonagall my resignation already. She never really wanted me back, anyway." His chest seized up at the words; leaving here would be difficult.

"Severus, I-"

"No, look, Hermione. I came to tell you I'm finished. I'm not going to try with you anymore. I can't." Severus said this to the floor, not bearing to look in her eyes. "But I can't be here anymore, either."

"But Hogwarts is your home!"

He shook his head. "Not anymore." He met her eyes, which were brimming with tears. She was sad for him? Did that mean she cared? No- he couldn't think like that anymore. He took her by the arm, knowing it would be the last time he'd touch her. "Don't you see, Hermione? I can't be anywhere you could find me, or I'll spend the rest of my life hoping you'll come back."

"Sev-"

"I can't wonder anymore. I can't hope. It'll rip me apart."

And then Severus was finally the one leaving her staring after him as he disappeared into the dark castle.

XXXXX

It was a ridiculously difficult job, packing up nearly twenty years of a life.

Not to mention Severus' packing efforts were hampered by his duty to chaperone the last Hogsmeade trip of the term. Fifth and seventh years would be rip-roaring drunk over finishing their exams, and would likely draw their sixth year friends into the fray as well. There was bound to be a fistfight, and definitely copious amounts of public displays of affection.

It was sweltering for June in this part of the country, and the female students wore the most inappropriately revealing clothing. Severus wouldn't have noticed, but Hermione Granger was one of those students.

She wore a flimsy floral sundress that made the fit of Severus' trousers suddenly uncomfortable, her long hair floating about her in the breeze as Ginny Weasley led her past him. It reminded him of the night-Halloween-when she'd come to his room, tipsy and crying and... in love with him.

He would never move on from her; this he knew. But he needed to move on with his life. He needed to find somewhere away from her where he could try to forget.

But for now, this one last time, he indulged himself and followed her, keeping a safe distance behind her as she wove her way through Hogsmeade. He watched her enter the bookshop, come out with a parcel. She and Ginny bought sweets at Honeydukes and wandered through the streets. Hermione sucked a candy and again, Severus was aroused, remembering the feel of her mouth on him. He knew he was being a masochist, but told himself this was the last time; after the term ended, he'd never see her again. He filled his mind with memories of her.

Then, in front of Zonkos, she squealed, throwing her arms around a tall boy... with bright red hair.

Fury pulsed in Severus' chest. He wanted her to be happy, and he couldn't expect her to pine for him the way he pined for her. But Weasley? He didn't deserve her. She hadn't loved him, and he'd tried to take advantage... Severus nearly growled at the thought. He could throttle the boy, ring his neck for trying to force himself on her.

The group was stalled in front of the joke shop, Hermione's head thrown back, laughing. She touched Weasley's shoulder, running her hand down his arm. Severus felt as though he might implode. The last time she touched him deliberately, he had violated her mind and betrayed her trust. She had cradled him against her, her fingers rubbing circles on his back, consoling him, assuring him she was there... and he had destroyed it all with one word.

Severus crept closer, careful to not be seen. The ginger boy turned, and... it was definitely Weasley.

George Weasley.

Severus hurried past, retreating into a dark alleyway. He walked briskly through the streets until he was sweating in the afternoon heat, then kept walking, attempting to clear his mind of what he'd just seen and felt.

He had to get rid of her, get her out of his head. She hadn't loved him in months, and yet she consumed him completely, her presence in his every thought and movement. Everything he did, he realized, was for her or because of her or about her. She was the sun, around which he spun like mad, unable to escape her pull.

He thought of the sparks, the way his magic reacted to hers when they touched. He'd never seen that, even read of it before her. The attraction, the emotions were so strong, it sent his magic on the fritz, and he couldn't control it. Did she inspire that kind of reaction in other men? In Weasley?

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. It had been there from the beginning, the reaction, the purple sparks. From that very first day in his classroom, when their hands had touched around a jar of wolfsbane. She'd invaded his dreams, even before that. He'd been drawn to her, then. Now he was completely enraptured, unable to think about anything else.

As Severus herded the last of the tipsy students up the steps and into the castle, he wondered what would become of him. He'd have to move away, but where? The Netherlands, perhaps? Or further? America, maybe, but the North. He favored the cold. A giggling Hufflepuff bumped him, and he righted her without a word. He could make an easy living making and selling potions, that he knew. He could live out his days in a snowy place, where he would be left in peace. But what would he do, for the remainder of his life?

For a brief time, he'd let himself dream of Hermione in his bed and travels abroad and even maybe a little curly-headed child. The truth of his future seemed unfulfilling in contrast to that ideal. It was empty, a long, sad life that lay ahead now.

Severus had thought many times before of killing himself, and thought nothing of sacrificing himself for the good of their cause. At one time, he had wanted so badly to die; now he couldn't dream of it. He couldn't bear to make her think it was her fault. Even if she didn't want him, he wouldn't leave her. For despite what he told her, he still had hope. Hoping, it seemed, was the only way he knew how to go on.

Exhausted and sweaty, Severus unbuttoned his shirt as he descended into the dungeons. Not a lot of chance of seeing anyone down here; the students had gone to dinner or to bed, drunk. He undid his sleeves, relishing the cool dungeon air on his overheated body. Yes, he'd definitely like to move somewhere cold.

Hardly inside the door to his rooms, he stripped off the damp shirt, tossing it to the stone floor, and slipped off his shoes. His last Hogsmeade trip as a chaperone was over. Never again would he have to escort the little brats down the path, never again would he have to give one detention for throwing dungbombs in the square. No, his next trip to Hogsmeade-perhaps far in the future-would be as a solo adult without responsibilities to anyone. He couldn't decided if the thought made him relieved or a little depressed.

A light was on in the kitchen- he'd thought he'd put them all out. Drawing his wand at his side, he crept shirtless and barefoot toward the door.

There, sitting on the table with her legs swinging beneath her, was Hermione Granger. She wore that infernal floral sundress and a look of abject terror. Her hands pulled at the fabric nervously, and her cheeks flushed when she saw Severus.

"Hermione," he breathed, lowering his wand. "What are you doing here?"

She nodded resolutely, her eyes shut tight. "There's something I have to tell you."