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A/N: To make up for yesterday's formatting blunder, here's another chapter! Please review!

Chapter Seven

Miss Granger,

First and foremost, please accept my most sincere condolences over the tragic loss of your parents. There are no words to adequately express just how sorry I am. Rest assured that their deaths will not be in vain, and that you have the full support and sympathy of the Order of the Phoenix.

I take full responsibility for this tragedy. I feel that it is only fair to explain the mistakes that led to your parent's deaths. We found what we were looking for, in a remote location that I prefer not to expose via owl. The plan, as you know, was to destroy what we found as discreetly as possible. This, Miss Granger, is where we failed. We cast several protection and discretion charms before destroying this object, in the hopes that its owner would not find out what we had done. It was not enough. Severus has informed me that you know he is our spy, and I have informed Harry and Ronald. However, there is another. For their personal safety, they will remain unknown, but our informant at the Dark Lord's headquarters informed me of your parent's deaths immediately after they happened. Apparently, he was able to feel the destruction of this object as it took place. He then launched into a murderous rage, and, well, you know the rest of the story from there. I am so unbelievably sorry, my dear. If I had known such a thing were to happen, I would have never acted so recklessly. We will try to be more discreet with the upcoming objects, but unfortunately, our methods will remain relatively the same.

I hope that you will also forgive how late this letter is. By my calculations, this should reach you about mid-July. We are quite far from you right now, and it should take several owls to deliver this message. Which leads me to the next piece of information I must share with you. Unfortunately, you will not be able to return to Hogwarts this term. Hogwarts is extremely protected, but even still, we have much to accomplish and will most likely anger the Dark Lord many more times before any final battle. I am not willing to risk your safety, and would prefer if you remained in Grimmauld Place.

Do not write any replies, for this owl does not know our location and it is impossible to locate us. Again, I offer my deepest condolences and hope that you may find some source of light in these dark times.

Regards,

Albus Dumbledore

The light from the fire flickered against the worn piece of parchment, throwing shadows against the words. Hermione read the letter for the fourth time, but it was no use. She already had it committed to memory. She began to methodically tear the parchment into shreds, letting the torn pieces pile into her lap. By the time Snape walked in, she was delicately tossing each individual piece into the fire.

"Ah. The Headmaster owled you too, then?"

"Yes," she replied tersely. "I've been forbidden from going back to Hogwarts."

"As have I."

Hermione's head snapped over to where Snape was standing. He was in his usual pose – arms crossed over his chest, back leaning against the door frame.

"What? But you're a teacher – why would he have you stay here?"

Snape crossed the room and sat in an armchair opposite Hermione, crossing his legs.

"To protect you, probably. The rest of the Order will come and go as the summer comes to an end, so you and I will keep working here. What else did Albus say?"

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"He said…well…It's just that…ugh!" She threw her hands into the air and leapt out of her chair as she began to pace around the room. "First of all, it's been weeks since mum and dad died! It's nearly August. How has it taken him this long to say anything? And why didn't Harry or Ron send anything? Secondly…I just can't believe him. Destroying one horcrux lead to the death of my family. There are four left. What on earth is he thinking? Has he even considered what he's risking? I wish he would think of a different plan!"

"I think you'll find that the Headmaster knows exactly what he's risking." Snape's voice sounded flat and lifeless, but there was barely contained rage just under the surface. "We are at war, Miss Granger, and our beloved Headmaster follows a very Machiavellian philosophy. The end justifies the means. It's time you put this idea of a twinkling old man to rest. Albus Dumbledore is a military man, and he will do whatever it takes to win this war."

That was enough to make Hermione fall back into her chair. A stray curl fell across her face, and she blew it away. Snape continued absentmindedly.

"Besides, I'm sure Albus hasn't even told Potter or Weasley of what happened."

"What? Why wouldn't he?"

"He needs them at their best, Miss Granger. Why would he weigh them down with such information? There's nothing they can do about it. Especially Potter. He does have a knack for sulking."

Not even Hermione could argue with that. Though she despised the thought of the Headmaster withholding such information, she couldn't help but see the common sense behind it. So, with one least exasperated noise, she retreated to the kitchen for some biscuits and tea.

Hermione wasn't exactly sure when it happened. At first she tried to deny it, but as the weeks went by, it became more and more obvious.

She was attracted to Professor Snape.

It all started in the potions lab. Due to her lack of experience, much of her time was spent watching Snape demonstrate techniques and procedures. During this time, Hermione started to see things in her professor that she had never noticed before. His skin was surprisingly clear and unwrinkled for a man nearing forty. His hair was not greasy, as many believed, but rather very fine and shiny. His nose was abhorrent and his teeth were definitely on the crooked side, but for the most part he had a rather handsome face.

It was his stature, however, that made the biggest impression on Hermione. He had gained weight over the summer, so instead of looking sickly thin all the time, he actually filled out the billowing robes he so often wore. In the heat of the potions lab, he often forwent the heavy robes and instead worked in black slacks, a white shirt, and a black or silver waistcoat. This outfit was always Hermione's favorite – it made him look tall, lean, and positively dangerous. On rare occasions, he would even take to tying his hair back with a piece of ribbon, which Hermione thought made his face even more handsome.

His mannerisms also captured Hermione's attention. Everything he did, he did with the grace and confidence of a king. His movements were quick and precise, and he kept his sentences short and to the point. There was a certain mystery about him that drew Hermione in, despite her constantly trying to talk herself out of this attraction.

He's a teacher! She would tell herself. He's nearly twenty years older than I am! And besides, he would never look at me in such a way. I'm wasting my time, and my emotions. This is all probably some symptom of post-traumatic stress – nothing more!

And yet, every time she tried to change the way she felt, she failed. Her heart would begin to race whenever he entered the room, and she savored each word he said, his voice wrapping around her like dark silk. She tried to distract herself with books and research, but it was never enough. When they were in the same room together, she was unable to focus on anything else. It was for this reason that she found herself dropping a bowl full of flour on the ground when he walked into the kitchen one morning.

"Damn!" She swore, frowning at the flour which now covered most of her and the kitchen. Snape actually chuckled at that, and she shot him a glare in return. He rolled his eyes before flicking his wand in her direction, vanishing the flour.

"What are you doing?"

"I was trying," she said while measuring out new flour, "to bake a cake. But someone had to startle me, so now I'm beginning again."

"Why on earth would you bake a cake?"

Hermione suddenly felt very shy as she moved a stray curl out of her face.

"Because it's my birthday today," she explained softly. Snape made no comment at that, but instead began to pour himself a cup of tea.

"And tell me, Miss Granger, is it a muggle custom to prepare one's own birthday cake?"

"No, but Molly is spending this week at the Burrow. I think being here all the time puts too much stress on her, and she desperately deserved a vacation."

"I'd hardly call the Burrow a vacation spot."

"Yes, well, it's a far cry better than here."

"Getting cabin fever already? I shouldn't have to remind you that you'll probably be here for at least another year."

Hermione groaned and threw her head back.

"Don't remind me – would you grab the milk from the fridge?"

Snape complied and handed the carton over to her. Her heart leaped when their fingers touched briefly – his skin was warm and smooth. How strange! She had always imagined his skin to be as cold as ice, like some marble statue. He leaned over her shoulder and observed the mixing bowl.

"Tell me, is there much difference between brewing and baking?"

A laugh escaped Hermione's lips. "Not much, to be honest. One could argue that baking requires a certain type of magic. Even if you follow the instructions perfectly, it may not turn out. It needs a little extra something to make it perfect."

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

Hermione turned around and was startled by just how close Snape was. If she were to move her hand forward two inches, she would be able to feel the fabric of his waistcoat. She looked up into his eyes and found that those dark pools of coal were gazing down into her own with a curious expression. His face was not pulled into a sneer or a frown, but a genuine expression of interest. If she were to push herself up on her tiptoes, she could capture his lips with her own. She found herself leaning forward slightly, her heart racing.

"Love," she breathed. Snape's brow furrowed and he stepped back slightly. Hermione busied herself with wiping her hands on a towel. "Well, that's what mum used to say at least. I like to think it's just plain old luck."

"Indeed," he murmured. Snape stalked out of the kitchen without any kind of goodbye, leaving Hermione breathless by the oven.

Oh no, she thought, what have I gotten myself into?

A/N: Hope you liked it! Please review! Next time: Snape's feelings! Hermione's birthday night! Someone will get hurt! Stay tuned!