A/N: Glad you all enjoyed the last chapter; keep those reviews coming! For those of you concerned about a lack of contraceptives, pleased be assured there will be no unplanned pregnancies in this fic.

A warning that this chapter gets quite gory and angsty.

Thank you to my wonderful beta AdelaideArcher. Any mistakes are my own.

Chapter 12: Blood, Flames, and Tears

The hot bath didn't dry my tears, which kept coming as I scrubbed myself clean, cast the spell I'd been taught in fourth year to guard against pregnancy, and then collapsed into bed without bothering to put on pajamas. I let the tears form a pool of dampness on my pillow as I stared at Severus's empty bed.

The truth was, I thought that all I had to do was get through his fortress walls. I didn't count on the fact that if I made it inside, I'd still have to battle the beast within the ramparts, the one that had refused to allow him any inch of happiness for the past 20 years, the one that honestly thought he deserved to die.

And with that thought I found myself wondering again how Dumbledore believed it was possible for me to save the life of Severus Snape. From their conversations in his office, I knew that Dumbledore's portrait was aware of Snape's desire to die before the end of the war. Why did he think I, a 19-year-old woman with zero medical or psychiatric training, could convince a man who wanted to die for 20-odd years to change his mind in the span of eight months?

If he was hoping that I would fall for Snape, well, he'd had that right. That Snape would fall for me? Considering tonight, he at least desired me on some level, so maybe that wasn't completely out of the question. But to want me enough to want to live? To love me more than the one woman he'd spent most of his life serving? Impossible. Laughable, even. I was nothing compared to Lily; I was a speck of dust beneath an old sofa in an abandoned room.

After Severus ran from me, I didn't expect him to come back. Based on what happened after The Kiss, I thought he'd avoid me for weeks, and I wasn't sure this time I wouldn't let him. For the first time since I arrived in his rooms, I felt completely hopeless about my mission. Based on what I now knew, forcing Severus to speak with me would not change his mind; it hadn't worked before and I doubted very much it would work now.

So I was surprised when, as I was drifting asleep, I heard the bedroom door open and saw Severus enter the room. I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep so I wouldn't have to speak with him, because honestly I had no idea what to say and feared I would only melt into a puddle of tears in front of him. As I willed my breath to sleepy stillness, I heard the rustle of fabric and his feet softly step across the floor, and then I felt his presence appear next to my bed, making my skin tingle. He stood there for what seemed like minutes, and part of me desperately wanted to reach for him, but I focused on my breathing, making my breaths soft and deep and even, even as a lump formed in my throat. When I felt him move away and heard his bed creak, I risked opening one eye.

Severus sat on the edge of his bed, naked except for his boxers, his elbows on his knees as he stared at his hands. His head bowed over his thin frame, his black hair falling forward and covering his face so all I could see was the arch of his hooked nose. Then his right hand went to his left arm, tracing where I knew the Dark Mark scarred his skin, his elegant fingers stroking the flesh in large circles. His body heaved as if he'd taken a deep breath, and he let out a single choked sob that made my heart threaten to burst in my chest, but I stayed still, knowing there was nothing I could say, nothing I could do to comfort him—hadn't I already given it my best shot? Instead, I watched his body shake silently, wondering if tears were running down his cheeks hidden in shadows. Finally he lay back on the bed, rolling over so he faced away from me.

The fact that I still had his trust should have given me hope; instead my heart now felt like it was being hit with a Reductor Curse, exploding into fine particles of red blood and muscle as I stared at his bare back, covered in scars, and knowing that if I could see his heart, it would be covered similarly, lined and puckered by years of torment and pain.

Tears welled up in my eyes again and I let them fall silently to my pillow, wishing that I could mend the fissures of his broken heart, but knowing it was impossible.

I had failed. My goal was impossible. In four months there would be no more scars traced into his skin or his heart, because Severus Snape was going to die.

The next morning I awoke, stiff and sore, bathed in a warm yellow glow spilling in through the uncovered window near the foot of my bed, the bright sun belying my mood, which felt more like dark clouds threatening a storm. I chanced a glance towards Severus's four poster and found it vacant, the bedclothes crumpled in a heap near the centre where he'd thrown them aside.

I sighed, unsure if his absence made me feel better or worse. Somehow I managed to crawl out of bed and wondered what I might say to him when he returned for tea that evening—if he returned for tea that evening. I thought then that maybe it was for the best that I had the day to think; I had yet to find much hope in Severus's actions and had no clue how to approach him or the following months now. If he was going to die, what was I to do? How could I enjoy his company knowing what was to come? Every time I looked into his bottomless eyes, watched him turn the pages of a book, heard his voice rumble, it would be a reminder of what would soon be no more.

I tried my best to follow my normal routine, but felt I had neither the motivation nor the energy, and so I gave up shortly after lunch and slumped down on the couch, choosing instead to stare at the ceiling. It was actually quite beautiful for a ceiling: large, dark beams crossed it in a grid pattern, the crossing points carved into swirling leaves and knobbly thistles like those often found on the grounds. In between the beams the ceiling was painted a muted gold, with one of each of the four Hogwarts House animals in each corner. I smiled sadly to find a red Gryffindor lion roaring above my head, which made me think of Harry and Ron.

I'd never been separated from my boys for so long, and suddenly I missed them terribly. I'd never really felt lonely in Severus's quarters until that moment, and I rubbed my eyes to stop the tears from falling down my cheeks.

I thought about the other-me, who was also suffering from a broken heart. But she had Harry for comfort and Ron was not planning to die; the task she and her friends had been set was achievable and together they would find success. I knew that sometime in my future, Ron and Harry were waiting for me; how would they feel when they found out I'd failed spectacularly at saving Severus? Would I see disappointment in their eyes?

My gaze shifted to the image of the curling Slytherin snake and for the first time in many months I thought of Severus's death. What I remembered most was the blood: the way it spilled out of his neck like a bubbling spring even as he tried to stop it with his hands, and the deep, slick pool of crimson that formed beneath his crumpled body. I also recalled the sadness in his eyes before they went blank, when he'd asked Harry to look at him, ensuring that his final moments would be of Lily's boy, of Lily's eyes.

If that wasn't proof of my utter failure, I didn't know what was.

Rolling over onto my side, I rested my head on my arm. I'd been so sure I could succeed when I arrived. Of course, that was before I knew the whole situation, before I really knew Severus and the demons he carried inside.

Damn you, Dumbledore. Could you not have set a simple task for once?

But I knew there was no point in blaming Dumbledore for my situation. I was the one who fell in love and I was the one who failed. I could spend years scouring through the world's biggest library and never find a way to make Severus want to live.

Not so brilliant any more, are you?

Unable to bear my thoughts any longer, I closed my eyes and drifted into a fitful sleep.

I dreamed of making love to Severus. We were on his bed and he was moving slowly above me, his eyes dark and his hair spilling over his shoulders, tickling my cheeks. He felt amazing pounding into me, heat radiating from his body into mine, and I was so focused on the pleasure of it all that I did not notice the sheets were soaked with blood until I clenched my hands in their folds, finding them squishy and wet between my fingers. I placed my hands back on Severus's lean arms, leaving red handprints on his biceps, but my dream-self was not yet concerned.

"Hermione," whispered Severus, and several drops of crimson trickled out of his mouth and dripped onto my bare chest as he rocked above me.

A tendril of panic sprouted in my chest at the sight, but he felt so good, so right sliding in and out of me that I did nothing except continue to rise my hips in time with his. The blood increased the harder he thrusted, and soon his lips and chin were coated with blood. It dribbled down his neck, painted lines across his chest, and splashed onto my naked body below him until my skin was like a splatter painting with only two colours: crimson blood on pale flesh.

"Hermione," he called as he orgasmed, his voice clear and smooth despite the scarlet liquid spilling over his lips in great bubbling waves. I somehow knew that his climax was filling me with blood instead of seed, and I looked down to see my crotch and thighs coated with scarlet.

"Hermione," he said again as his orgasm waned and his body suddenly lifted away from mine, slowly rising towards the ceiling. The curtains ripped as his body moved upwards away from the four-poster. He was coated head-to-toe in blood, and crimson rained down on me as I knelt on the bed, trying to grasp at his limbs, the terror in my chest beginning to take over.

"Severus!" I yelled and I threw myself upwards and wrapped my fingers around his limp ankle, but his skin was slick with blood and his leg slipped free. True terror rushed through me as the golden ceiling folded open and Severus floated upwards away from me, getting smaller and smaller against a blackened night sky.

"Severus!" I screamed, my body covered with Severus's blood. It saturated my hair, dripped into my face, coated my limbs and chest and vagina like scarlet grease. Red dripped from the curtains, the ceiling, the walls, pouring down onto the floor as I screamed, unable to stop Severus from leaving.

"Hermione!" Severus called out to me, his body shrinking and curling in on itself, until it was only a shining red spark in the sky, barely distinguishable amongst all the stars except for its colour.

"Severus! No!" I screamed again, sobbing now, my tears as red as Severus's vital fluid, and I shook violently against the bedclothes, burying my face in my hands.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

I awoke with a gasping breath to find Severus kneeling beside me, his hands gently shaking me by my shoulders, his face a deep scowl of concern.

"Severus!" I gasped, my hands instinctively reaching out and grabbing fistfuls of his robes and pulling him close to me. His body stiffened somewhat, but he allowed me to press my head into his chest.

"Hermione, you were dreaming," he said quietly.

"You can't leave, Severus! You can't die!" I sobbed, my mind still filled with blood and his body drifting into nothingness. Severus said nothing as I clung to him, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Let me get you a Calming Draught," he said, picking up my hands from his robes and placing them gently in front of me. His robes brushed my fingers as he spun and went to the potion cabinet.

Attempting to reclaim my thoughts from the horrors of the dream, I stared at the table and wiped my eyes. Snape was in front of me a few moments later, prodding me to sit up and then pushing a vial into my hands. I downed the potion without so much as a grimace, and felt the terror of the dream ebb away as it settled in my stomach.

"Thank you," I said quietly, handing the bottle back to him. I drew my knees to my chest, hugging them to my body, my head tucked between their peaks. The potion may have deadened my panic, but it did not remove the deep hopelessness that filled me, as if a Dementor stood over my back. The only thing that stopped me from checking over my shoulder to see if one was in the room was the warmth of the fire against my skin.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Severus, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch, leaving distance between us. His words sounded concerned, but his eyes were blank and emotionless, and I found I couldn't look at them.

"Not really," I said honestly, staring at my feet. "But it doesn't matter."

"Should I go?" he asked.

"No, you don't need to go," I said, and I would have been shocked at how listless my voice sounded if it weren't for the fact I wasn't sure I could feel anything at all. "Summon some tea, if you like," I said flatly.

Severus shot me a furtive glance, but waved his wand and summoned our tea set. He filled the cups and then settled one in my hand before retaking his seat.

"I wanted to speak to you about last night, but it can wait until another time," he said smoothly.

"No, it's fine. Go ahead," I said, taking a sip of my tea. It was warm and delicious, but somehow it didn't make me feel any better. What did it matter when or if we spoke? What did it even matter what I said? It wouldn't change a thing. I rested my cheek on my knee so my face was angled towards the fire, and I watched the flames dancing in the grate.

"First, I would like to apologise," he began, his voice smooth and even. "Last night I was not in my right mind. I never should have let things go so far."

I sighed. I didn't regret it, would never regret having sex with Severus. A flame tickled the edge of one of the logs, slowly engulfing it in orange tendrils.

"It's fine," I said.

"It's not fine," said Severus.

"Yes, it is. You're forgiven," I reiterated with a shrug. No point in holding a grudge when the man will be dead soon.

"I—I thought… you don't seem fine, Hermione," he said.

"Maybe I'm not. But like I said, it doesn't matter, does it? You love Lily and you're going to follow her to the grave no matter what I say or do. It doesn't matter that we had sex, or that I wanted it. It doesn't even matter that I love you, or how desperately I might want you to live. None of it matters. So it's fine."

"Hermione, I—"

"Forget it, Severus. I get it. Let's just get through these last four months," I said coldly.

There was a long pause, and then Severus said, "If that's what you'd like."

"What I like has nothing to do with it," I said bitterly.

The log was now fully immersed in an orange glow, burning brightly, but doing nothing to pierce the black fog that hung over me.

"Hermione…" Severus started, but I quickly stood up, not liking the ache that was rising into my chest like a curling snake, fighting against the Calming Draught, threatening to cut off my breath and to fill my eyes with tears.

"I'm going to bed," I said, not looking at Severus as I stumbled off the couch, sloshing tea on the coffee table as I set it down. I stopped at the door to the bedroom and chanced a glance back at the man for whom my heart was breaking. If only he could wrap me in his arms, could tell me everything was going to be okay, that he was going to live; but instead he looked at me with eyes filled with sorrow and shame, his tea cup in his hand, a frown etched into his curved lips. The snake struck, and my eyes filled with tears.

"See you tomorrow, Severus," I choked, quickly opening the door and stepping into the bedroom so he wouldn't see me cry.

"Goodnight, Hermione," I heard as I shut the door behind me.