Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.

Stolen

A/N: Wow! Thanks so much for the influx of reviews for chapter 19. It was exciting to see such a response. Hoorah for fight scenes! I spent a lot of time with the Rita Skeeter article, so I'm gad most of you liked the way that turned out. Several people caught on to some tricky details that will come out later. Good job! Yes, poor Neville. Will he die? You'll just have to wait and see. Last but not least, welcome to all the new readers.

Chapter 20: In Which Hermione Feels Confused

Snape's shout could not stop Ron who was flying through the air when the call rang out across the hall. He collided with Draco, knocking him to the hard floor with a loud, resounding thud. Harry stumbled to his feet, his mouth bleeding, and proceeded to assist Ron in the scuffle in which he and Draco were already heatedly engaged. Just as the others began to emerge from the crowd, siding with Harry and Ron or with Draco, and creating a deadly brawl, Snape withdrew his wand and flung both boys off of Draco with a single spell.

"Everyone!" he all but snarled. "Back to your classes or I'll be deducting 100 points for everyone in your house still standing here in the next minute." They scattered quickly.

"Hermione, Draco," he addressed them promptly.

"Yes sir?" asked Hermione as Draco helped her from the floor.

"You are dismissed." He rounded on Harry and Ron. "As for you two," he growled. "Follow me."

Watching them go, she felt torn in half yet again. She didn't know what to think. They way they had ganged up on Draco like that… It wasn't right. She sighed. Turning to look at Draco she spied his mouth still bleeding. With a quick, wordless spell she healed it.

"I'm sorry." She apologized for her friends, still in disbelief.

"It's not your fault. They didn't act much your friends either." The comment stung her though that was not its intention. The sad truth of it was, they didn't. Then, a little reluctantly he offered, "I suppose I should thank you for defending me."

"Well, I know you didn't do it."

"That's just it though," he said slowly, looking at her carefully. "You don't." Her brow creased in confusion. He explained. "The picture from the paper was taken the day after Neville was attacked. It doesn't prove anything."

"Well," she responded somewhat bashfully. "I was with you the day he was attacked too and I knew you couldn't have done it because you were the hospital wing the whole time. I couldn't exactly announce to the hall that I'd attacked you and put you there, so I scrambled for whatever alibi I could."

"They're going to figure it out." He warned.

"Yes, and when they do I'll tell them the truth, but I'll only have to deal with them then."

"You will?" he asked with air of someone truly taken by surprise by this honesty.

"Yes." She answered, not looking forward to her confession in the least. "You stuck up for me too, you know." She added as an afterthought.

"Well, it's our job isn't it? Besides, I couldn't give up the opportunity to punch Potter." He laughed.

"Draco," she began.

"What?" he asked in a tone that showed he knew he wouldn't like her response.

"I have to go check on them." There was no need to explain. Fighting them was not going to make them trust Draco. She had to salvage what she could, attempt to make amends.

"I'll meet you in our dormitory." He said plainly. She smiled gratefully at him, to which he rolled his eyes and walked away. It only took her a few minutes of frantic catching up to find her friend's retreating figures in a corridor of the dungeon.

"Harry! Harry! I'm glad I caught you. Are you all right?" she huffed as she reached her two friends. They were not smiling.

"I'm Fine." His voice sounded stiff.

"What did Snape have you do?" she asked, worried.

He scowled in response, casting a sideways glance at Ron who now opened his mouth. "How could you Hermione?" he demanded simply, sounding rather sad.

"How could I what?" She asked defensively. "I was jut playing along for the Order."

"Oh yeah. The Order. Right." He scoffed, actually rolling his eyes.

"And just what is that supposed to mean Ronald Weasley?" Hermione thought he was being very hurtful.

"Nothing, except that you've been doing an awful lot for the Order lately." He stressed the word "order" with sick emphasis, dripping with sarcasm.

"I've been doing my job!" she snapped at him, infuriated by his stinging, if implied, allegations.

"Your job? You slapped Harry! You kissed Malfoy in public! You got us-your friends- into trouble! I think you've taken this quite far enough."

"I had to Ron! They have to believe that I love him!"

"Is that why you were kissing him all over the paper? Is that why you defend him at every turn? For the Order?"

"I do not defend him at every turn! I would not have had to at all if you and Harry had not tried to attack him in front of me and half the bloody castle. He did not hurt Neville. He could not have."

"The alibi is ludicrous, Hermione." Harry snapped. "That picture was taken the day after Neville was in the hospital wing. Draco was missing the day before he showed up. And-"

She cut him off. "I was with him then too and I know he could not have done it. As for kissing him, I am just acting Ron. I don't love Malfoy. I don't even like him."

"Well congratulations. You're a damn good actor. You even look like part of you enjoys his hands all over you-"

"Ron!" She was crying now, openly spilling tears. "This isn't even about Malfoy is it? I think, well, Ron I believe your just jealous!"

"Jealous? I'm Jealous?! Well that-that is- well," Ron stormed off, his eyes sparkling, footsteps resounding angrily throughout the dungeon corridor.

"Ooh I can't believe him," Hermione began as soon as he was out of earshot, but Harry rounded on her.

"So what if he is?"

"Huh?" she asked, dumbstruck.

"So what if he is jealous? What if he loves you Hermione? What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," she answered quietly, regretting her outburst. "I was just so angry it felt like-like part of him didn't even trust me anymore." She looked up pleadingly at her other best friend, waiting, longing, to hear some reassurance of their faith in her. When none came after a moment, she shivered. Harry stared back at her and she looked away, unable face him with sobs swelling in her body.

"So you don't trust me either?" she whispered, horror stricken. A hand rested on her shoulder.

"I trust you, Hermione. I believe you would never betray me or the Order for any reason. I believe you are doing this for us. What's more, I know we couldn't do this without you." She closed her eyes, savoring each of his words like sips of hot chocolate after a dementor attack. "But-"

"But?" She wheeled back around. This time it was Harry who averted his eyes.

"But I don't trust Malfoy. And…Sometimes even the best of us- and that's you Hermione- pretend to be something long enough we sort of become it without realizing it. I don't want you to start believing this game you play with Malfoy is real. I don't want you to get hurt. Just bear in mind, not being a Death Eater doesn't make him a good person. I understand it's your job to fool everyone, and it can't be easy. Just," He paused, unsure if he should say what he felt he must. She nodded him on. "Just be careful you're not fooling yourself."

Harry turned away to follow after Ron, leaving her alone in the cavernous hall with a distinct chill having nothing to do with the weather outside and a tempest of emotions bubbling dangerously inside her. A few minutes later found her pacing heatedly back and forth in the Headmaster's office before his desk as he sat behind it scowling and examining his highly distressed pupil.

"They don't trust me! They really don't know whether I'm in love with Malfoy or not-"

"Do you know if you are in love with him or not?"

"Oh don't you start too!" she snapped at him. She had never spoken to a Headmaster like that before. She must be losing her mind. But really! Of course she was not in love with Malfoy! How could she possibly fall in love with such a –a?

"Do you know how you feel about Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes." She answered; trying to arrange her feelings into words should he ask. How did she feel about him exactly? She had to admit, when he wasn't being a complete ass he as rather good looking. As for his personality, he was as ever changing as the spring weather, freezing one moment and boiling the next. It seemed for each of his actions there was an equal an opposite second action, like some weird law of physics. If he did something especially nice it would soon be followed by his doing something remarkable foul. At times, his biting sarcasm was clever and even humorous, his uncouth absurdity as entertaining as it was annoying. Other times, his humor was too crude and cruel to suit her. Sometimes he was respectful and even a bit honest, other times deceitful, secretive, and seductive. He was maddening! However, he was also intriguing. Even now, he could still surprise her. He certainly roused her curiosity like no other.

"Are you absolutely certain?" Snape inquired again, recalling her from her thoughts. His look was a stiff one.

"Yes!" she affirmed.

"Good. Because it is very, very easy Hermione to loose ourselves behind our masks. Sit down. "

"No." she blatantly refused, astounding even herself.

"Pardon me?" he asked, outrage creeping through his dangerously soft and low voice.

"No. I- I just don't think I can do this anymore, professor. One minute I think I can trust Draco, and the next minute I'm sure that I can't. Now my own friends, the Order, and everyone I threw away my freedom for is doubting me. Why? Because I'm doing what they asked me to do, that's why! I'm doing exactly what they wanted and now they're bothered because I do it too well?

"I am completely alone. The people I'm surrounded by are my enemies and I must pretend they are my friends. I must pretend my friends are now my enemies. It's madness. There is no rest, no honesty. Day in day out, all my decisions are made for me. My reactions are predetermined. I have not a grain of liberty. Every move that I make, every word that I say, if chosen badly can mean death, for me or others. I'm sick of pretending! I'm sick of lies and the danger and the loneliness. All the nobility and prestige of being a spy is lost on me. I want my life back!" she ended by stomping her foot childishly, her eyes threatening to spill tears again, her voice threatening to break.

"You have reached an excellent point, Miss Granger." His reaction was far from any she would have expected. "Sit down." He once again requested. This time she did.

"It is very simple really. If you are good spy, then even those you serve will mistrust you. If you are a bad spy, then you die. Yes, there are no choices. The life we have chosen has stripped us of our liberties and much of our identity. But you are wrong. You are not alone."

"Draco?"

"Draco. I cannot see why the two of you remain so distant when your lives are so intertwined. You barely tolerate one another's presence. Are you afraid of getting too close? You have to be honest with each other to maintain your sanity. When I was lying to the world, even I had Dumbledore. The time I was alone, my mind started to slip from reality. Potter talked about losing hold of truth by pretending too much. It's highly possible. You must learn to confide in one another in a true partnership. I'm not asking you, by any means, to develop the same relationship you display in public, but an entirely different one, an honest, deeper bond. Your lives depend on one another. You are not as different as you think.

"Teenagers!" he exclaimed in frustration. "For Merlin's sake, just speak to him about it. It will help. You cannot keep coming to me, nor can he. It looks too suspicious." She was taken off guard by this fact. It had never occurred to her she was the not the only one seeking help in their situation, the only one for whom this was a difficult and grueling lifestyle.

"Draco has come to you as well?" she questioned him.

"Yes, and let me clarify something for the both of you: I am not a crisis counselor for troubled teens. I have a school to run. Either you can handle this yourself, or you cannot. Is it time to abort this mission, Miss Granger? Is that that what you both want, to give up?"

Hermione thought hard about that as well. She certainly did not want to give up. Hermione Granger had never given up on anything (but skiing) and she had no desire to abandon her mission for the Order, but something vexed her still. There was something she must ask.

"But can I- can I do this?" She needed to know.

"That is up to the two of you." He replied. She bit her lip in concentration.

"But you will do it," he said quietly, almost reluctantly. "I have no doubt." His answer surprised her. He elaborated. "Neither of you can afford to fail. You would not walk away from you friends if you thought you could help them. It's ironic. There is no cause for which people are truly willing to sacrifice themselves save one- for the sake of another. For such selfish creatures as humans this truth seems a paradox, but it is solid. The Dark Lord fails to understand this. Do not let that become your shortcoming too." It was true. Thus she made her decision. She nodded.

"Then you must be strong and endure. Keep in mind that the trials you face today will help you tomorrow. They may doubt you now, but the vindication you will experience from your role in the fall of your enemies and the saving of your friends will far outweigh the hardships you must suffer now. Take comfort in this assurance. Alas, down these roads, there is no turning back." He sighed here, clearly thinking of his own fate as much as hers. Then he was standing to round his desk and usher her out.

"I cannot stop myself from sounding like Moody when I say you must maintain constant vigilance. Be watchful. You will need your wits now more than ever. We must wait patiently for our time to come and our service to end. Soon enough, we will be free either by the end of this war or by the end of our lives. For it is all a game of time. Sooner or later, the delicate status quo will be disturbed. Sooner or later, everyone makes a mistake and that, for a spy, means death. The rules are very simple, but the game of deception is anything but easy. One of us will last and the other fail, our deceptions or our enemy's. "

"Professor I must ask you one last thing. You said we do not fight for a cause, but for another. Who do you fight for?" He did not answer. "I mean, you are on Harry's side aren't you?"

"I am not. I fight to destroy that which destroyed me. She would have wanted this. I could deny her nothing."

By 'she' he meant Lilly, of course. "You miss her, don't you?" Embarrassed for asking, she immediately excused herself. His voice stopped her.

"Are you on Harry's side, or Draco's?" he asked.

"Both?" she guessed for the answer he wanted, feeling like she was fishing blindly.

"No Granger. You are on Draco's and it's up to Harry to be on yours." He paused thoughtfully, then looking grim he added heatedly: "Of course I miss her, you foolish girl. Don't you dare pity me!" He snapped, turning away angrily. The harshness of his usually quiet voice made her jump. He redirected his gaze to the fire which was far easier to look at and she saw that strangely softer yet tragic look come over him. He said: "I still see her sometimes."

"Sir?" she asked, confounded and somewhat concerned.

"I find her here and there. I see in her son's eyes every now and then, like that night. That night. I catch a glimpse of her in your eagerness at study and in Draco's fiery temper. I see her gentleness in Lupin, her friend. I even spot her memory, from time to time, drifting along the corridors of Hogwarts. Occasionally, I see her face swimming in my dreams on those rare occasions when I have dreams instead of vile, violent and screaming memories. Whenever I do something for the Order, I think I see something of her even in me."

He was standing at the headmaster's window now, looking out over the grounds and the lake. It seemed so odd to hear Snape talk with love in his voice. It did not seem to fit somehow. It rather looked like a formidable dragon that sang like a dove.

"Sometimes I think I'm going mad." There was indeed a mad hint of amusement in his voice that unnerved her then, but it soon changed, darkened. "If this is madness let it come. Still, it is amazing what it can do to the mind."

"Which exactly, love or loss?" she asked, trying to grasp something beyond her tender years of experience.

"Yes." He replied.

There was always a reason; she had been certain, more than rivalry and humiliation behind Snape's intense hatred for James Potter. Because of this suspicion, that night over the summer Snape had referred to, she had been the least shocked of her friends to hear of the real reasons. The memories came rushing back to her just as they had in the hospital wing when Neville had described his attack.

The three of them, she, Harry, and Ron, had returned to Hogwarts one summer night in search of clues, of anything, Dumbledore may have left behind to help direct them to the rest of their Horcruxes. Once they had arrived at the castle, they had actually managed to break into the Headmistress' office, at the time McGonagall's, only to find no evidence of Horcruxes before the alarm was raised. Unable to sneak into the library, Room of Requirement, or the Chamber of Secrets, the three had fled to the edge of the forest. From the shadowy border of trees they could 

still spot the luminous, white tomb of Albus Dumbledore as they watched the castle lights come to life, dancing in the windows.

Not far off somewhere behind them they heard the baying of Fang quelled by Hagrid's familiar, rough voice. Exchanging significant glances the group rushed further into the darkness of the forest. They soon wished they had not.

They came to a spot, stumbled upon it really, that seemed to be the smallest of clearings in the woods. Something about the place sent chills down Hermione's spine immediately. Just as she reached out to motion to Harry that they should move on, her hand came in contact with something other than her friend's familiar shoulder. It was something rough and wet. Turning slowly to peer through the night, Hermione listened to the breathing of her friends become rapid once more as they two surveyed their eerie surroundings. She spied Ron who was looking up into the high canopy. Automatically, she did the same only to see that the trees all around them were covered in something strange, dripping with it. The sinister nature of the sight was procured by the substance on the trees that was darker than both the trees themselves and the dim air about them. It did not drip like water. Rather, it drug itself slowly, slithering lazily downward like syrup. Rubbing her fingers together, the solution proved to be not very thick, but fairly sticky and oddly recognizable. It had an odd smell, almost metallic. Then it hit her. The trees and the moist ground, on which they were lightly stepping, were entirely covered with blood. Hermione gasped. What had done this?

Together, they stepped backwards until they were away from the clearing once more. There, they looked at one another. Now that understanding had dawned, fear and disgust marked every countenance. They did not hesitate in changing course, but suddenly Ron froze in his tracks, shushing them. Harry and Hermione grew still and quiet as well, straining their ears and eyes to find what had caused Ron to stop. Soon, she began to pick up on it too. At first, it was so faint that she barely believed it was a significant sound at all. Perhaps, it was just the wind. But there it was- swelling and growing like an orchestra-: a low rumbling. As it grew, the ground began to tremble ever so slightly and Hermione's eyes widened. Wordlessly, for there was no time to explain, she grabbed her friends' arms and took off at a dead sprint back towards the castle, dragging them along. If the boys were confused by this action they soon figured out the reason for it; for the rumbling grew to a roar, the pounding of hooves gradually made distinguishable, and ground reverberated as they darted through the already treacherous terrain of the forest. They ran clumsily, tripping and stumbling often upon a stationary root or shaking stones in the darkness. Not once, however, did they dare to stop though their sides ached and lungs stung.

At last, they broke the forest line, but still the pounding army approached, closing the gap between them with twice the speed and agility with which the friends could manage. Heading towards the castle, none of them could help but glance back as the source of the tumult too breached the tree line and came barreling out of the woods. A risky pause to look back and satiate her thirsty curiosity revealed the thundering multitude to Hermione. There was a rising, dipping sea of bodies of shinning, ghostly unicorns. There were dozens of them, lead by majestic gold-horned stallions. Storming with them were many of the warlike, elusive centaurs, possibly their entire forest population. They clamored out of the forest rampantly in massive waves and the trio quickened their pace, still attempting to hide under the cloak. They were only a few meters' dash from one part of the castle into which they could duck in and hide as the horde raced by, but the stampede was gaining on them too quickly. It would be close.

She looked back again as the noise grew to a deafening level. It was unclear whether the heard was running for their lives from something or towards something to attack, but one thing was evident: they were neither pleased nor rational.

Hermione's legs were tiring and the shelter looked as if were getting further away rather than closer, when a unicorn, detached from the group and far ahead of them, tore past her at lightening speed, the wind from it hitting her in the face. Thinking quickly, she tore the cloak off of them. It obstructed their ability to run properly and the equines certainly would not dodge them if they could not seem them in their way. They would not make it to cover before the entire mass converged.

Harry yelled in protest, but soon seemed to spy her reasoning, or was too out of breath to argue further. They could feel, like the propelling force of an invisible magnet behind them, the horde coming closer, pressing in on their backs. Oh to be trampled under foot of those heavy beasts, and so many of them! They would never survive.

Somehow, though she could not imagine how, they had sped up more, pushing their screaming bodies to go faster, faster. The swarm was close now but they could almost touch the stone of shelter ahead. Hermione extended her hand in anticipation and touched something else, the soft, silvery back of a passing unicorn. It paid her no mind, but she exclaimed at its satiny feel even in the midst of such commotion. From behind, she admired its magnificent muscle and speed. An angry looking centaur, smaller than others she had seen, rode by as little more than a blur to her other side. The front of the storm had caught up. She wanted to scream, but didn't. She did not have the breath.

Finally, the three of them leapt with what strength they had left under the safety of the castle's outdoor covered walkway, collapsing in a messy, breathless pile. In a flurry of color, heat, sweat, and motion the mass passed them, cutting the corner around their hiding place uncomfortably close. Unable to help themselves, they watched the display closely, amazed. It was a stupendous sight. Perhaps one the world had never seen. She had certainly never read about it.

Once the mad dash was over and only a few, panting stragglers ran past, the three cautiously- laughing no less- left the safe confines of their covered corner and came out onto the grounds just outside the courtyard. She vaguely recalled their babbling exclamations as they emerged, still in awe. A last leg of the runners tore past around the corner, taking them by surprise and passing so quickly and closely that they knocked into Harry, throwing him off balance so that he 

toppled over and fell to the ground. As the group watched the animals go thundering by, something leapt from the shadows and took down a large unicorn with a loud thump and a vicious snarl. They all froze in surprise and terror as the two beasts struggled on the castle lawn, but only for a moment. The unicorn's final screams were unnatural, and horrible. Hermione clamped her hands tightly over her ears in hopes of keeping them out, but it only softened the truly blood-curling notes. Her eyes stung. She directed a hex at the predator. Big mistake.

Already, the trio was racing back to their cover, attempting to pull the cloak over them as they went, but they ran too late. Harry had barely pulled himself up from the ground before something large and snarling crashed into him as well. He shouted. Hermione turned back to seem him leaping up, the animal thrown aside by a curse, but the creatures were too fast for them. More appeared from no where, a pack of indiscernible brutes. In the moment, all she could register was the sheer size of the canines that were grinning maliciously back at her from the darkness, the yellowness of the eyes around the black pit pupils. The teeth, whatever animal they belonged to, were like nothing Hermione had ever seen, except perhaps in Fluffy first year. The fiends were dark and hairy, the latter she could feel as one reached her. Their breath was horrible she discovered as the foul odor engulfed the air around her as it came close.

Teeth tore flesh in hot agony and ripped and tugged at her legs like they were ropes in a game of tug-a-war. Her body was losing. The blood, her blood, she could feel it seeping- yes seeping- from her, draining her of strength, chilling her even, spilling onto the dew-damp grass in warm, wet waves. She screamed in pain, fear, helplessness, to no one. Her own screams were echoed by her friends nearby though she could not seem them. Her head was bursting with pain and panic. The merciless snarling was louder than before, the night growing somehow darker. Why was her curse not repelling the beast?

Then, very abruptly, something changed. Things became, by some means, quieter, and the flailing her body had been doing ceased. She felt strong hands slide under her arms and pull her painfully away; unbeknownst to her, lifting her to safety. That part she remembered very well. The rest was another matter.

She was weary from loss of blood and confused when she awoke, nudged by Ron. They were back in the forest. The faint light there gave the impression it must be day. Harry was standing, though he could barely do so in the shape he was, over the figure of their former professor Snape. He had saved them. But he had killed Dumbledore. It made no sense.

She had long ago learned to look for an answer before acting on presumptions, but Harry, for all his strengths that surpassed her own abilities, could not yet see this. He was rash. Snape, a very skilled dueler put up so little of a fight, her suspicion grew. The man looked as if he had not eaten in days, nor bathed. He needed the attention of a healer as well. Had he been living all this time in the woods? She pleaded with Harry to wait, to see reason. He refused. The mere memory of the look in his eyes disturbed her even now.

Thus Harry had gone to kill Snape, blaming him for the deaths of everyone he loved, but something had made him stop. It froze him. It took him off guard and shook him in ways even she would not understand.

"I never hurt Lily." Snape had protested.

"Wh-What did you say?" Harry asked. "What did you call her?"

"Lily." He repeated with bitterness beyond what their years could comprehend. "I was you mother's friend, at one time."

"No." Harry shook his head in disbelief.

"I tried to protect her." The man before them gasped out, as if desperately confessing a sin kept to himself for years, eating away at him.

"No." Harry repeated, as it were some incantation to put things right for him.

"I was promised she would not be harmed!"

"Just me and father killed then, was that the plan?" Harry demanded of him viciously. "Once we out of the way you would get her back then?" He screamed at the older man.

"I hated Potter!" Snape spat in response. "He was an arrogant pigheaded fool and he didn't deserve her. I may have stood by and let him die but I did not know Voldermort was going to hurt you."

"Don't pretend you suddenly care about me?!" Harry roared, the hurt in his shaking and furious voice matching Severus note for note.

"Your mother loved you very much. When the Dark Lord killed her I swore vengeance. I swore to become a spy, help defeat him. I swore to protect you. If it wasn't for me you and your friends would have been eaten by those beasts, torn apart! You ungrateful little-"

"But you are a traitor! You killed Dumbledore!"

"Dumbledore asked me to kill him!" Snape shouted, looking madder than Harry. Surely, such a thing could not be possible, Hermione thought, shaking her head in disbelief and looking at Ron who was equally skeptical. Surely.

"Dumbledore found out that Draco had vowed to the Dark Lord to kill him though Voldermort knew he would fail. In order to o keep my cover, I had to swear to his mother to help Draco in his mission. I took an unbreakable vow, and Dumbledore was set on saving us both when you told him what you had over heard. I would have died willingly. I would have easily, gratefully even. We argued many times…but he was certain, resolved. He had his reasons. He was going to tell you when the ambush took place on the tower last year. You were there Harry. He was begging. The potion, it did terrible things to him. He knew he would die-"

"Enough!" Harry shouted, unable to bear anymore. "I'm taking you to Azkaban where you belong. The dementors can have you." He said, reminding everyone of what he had told Wormtail back in the Shrieking Shack years ago. He was trembling, sweating, exhausted by hate and love and fear.

Snape suddenly came alive at this, apparently set against going to Azkaban. With a yell, he leapt up attacking Harry. Ron and Hermione stood, too dumbstruck to react right away, wandless. Within moments Snape had Harry alone in the forest at this mercy, but his steady hand faltered for once. He turned away. Hermione alone understood immediately why. Everyone had always told Harry he had his mother's eyes.

At long last, Harry had seen it too, a glimpse of the true Severus Snape. That man was never to been seen again.

"Will you help us then?" Harry had then panted. Snape nodded with the air of man who had nothing left but a ghost reflected in the eyes of an enemy, a hope for vengeance that would not satiate his need nor end his suffering.

When they arrived back at Headquarters, the three had to interfere to save Snape from being massacred by everyone else. Harry looked at Hermione amidst the tirade of questions and she understood without need for words. He was going to honor Snape's privacy, keep his secret. She could never forget how noble her friend had looked as the Order grilled him with questions of Snape's loyalty.

"If you trust me, then you must trust him." Harry had stated simply. She had felt something like a strong mix of pride and sadness, not unlike the feeling she got when she read the end of A Tale of Two Cities, when someone had snapped: "Who killed Dumbledore then?" and Harry had responded: "I did." No one asked anymore questions after that.

"Miss Granger if you are quite through staring into space, kindly take your things and get out of my presence. "

She left him in peace to delve into her own dismal thoughts. Once she returned to her dormitory, however, she found more immediate things to worry about than her dilemma. Such as, where was her fiancée?

Important A/N: Where is Draco? Want to see? Review and the next chapter will be posted soon! As for the flashback sequence, I hope this answers most of your questions about Snape, if not please let me know. This story does pick up from the end of book six, but it will not follow the seventh installment in canon since I wrote the plotline and beginning of Stolen before the last book came out. A lot of it is similar though, as you have noticed with the Lily excerpt, but only 

because I guessed at it beforehand. Some will be quite different, so keep that in mind to avoid confusion. As always, reviews are GREATLY appreciated. Thanks for reading.