"Hermione, it is time for you to make a choice…"

Hermione had spent a sleepless night with Severus's words unwilling to release her. Why would he say that to her? A choice between what, who? Was he thinking of her incident with Ron, and asking her to make a choice between a life with Ron in it, and a life without, simply so she could stay safe?

Certainly he would have just said so.

But, truthfully, she could not deny the…tenderness she had seen in his eyes more than once in the last few weeks. This suggested another explanation for his words, one that seemed far too incredible to believe.

He couldn't have meant a choice between him and Ron. Merlin, he couldn't have meant that.

And then there was the note Severus had given her, seemingly written in her own hand. He had refused to explain it. Instead, he had sent Hermione home with none of her questions answered. The words on the note implied something else far too incredible to believe. She looked down at it again.

use what you find

She was embarrassed to admit that, in all of the chaos of the war and its aftermath, it was lost. Did the note mean she would find it? And use it?

She would never do that, would she?

Hermione was still holding the cryptic scrap of parchment when a tentative knock sounded at her bedroom door. Stuffing the note into her pocket of her denims, she opened it up to discover Ron, cleaned up and apparently sober. He thrust a bouquet of flowers towards her. He appeared…contrite.

"Gods, I'm sorry, 'Mione," he began. "I know I'm not always the man you want me to be, or even the man I want to be, but I'm trying." He paused to glance down at the roses. "Come away with me this weekend and we'll be good as new. It's just this house and the memories here. When we get back, we'll find a new place to live, just you and me. Take me back, I'm begging you here, 'Mione."

He was so sincere, so much like the Ron she remembered, it made her want to weep. "Everything is going to be all right, Ron," she said, putting her arms around him.

"Just don't go seeing Snape anymore," he whispered in her ear. "Ever."

"Hermione…?"

"Hey, Ginny," Hermione glanced up to find the smiling face of her best girlfriend in her doorway.

"Whatcha doing?" Ginny pushed some debris aside to make room for herself and plopped on down next to an open suitcase on the bed.

"Packing. Ron asked me to go away with him this weekend."

"You're not really going, are you? Don't. Harry and I are frantic about you leaving with him." Ginny frowned. "I heard him and mum talking. I think he's going to ask you to say the bonding words with him this weekend."

"I don't think that's happening," Hermione forced a laugh. "I'm not mental, Ginny."

Ginny gave her a hard look. "Look, Ron's a complete arse, but he's right about one thing, isn't he? You're in love with Snape aren't you?"

Hermione winced. "Ginny…I…"

"You are, aren't you?" she pressed, not unkindly.

Hermione turned away from her friend and pulled open the top drawer of her dresser to remove a few pairs of wool socks deep in the back. A thin golden chain was wrapped around the last pair. She gasped. Well, there it is. Hermione moved the chain tenderly to the side, pulled out the socks, and shut the drawer a little more quickly than necessary.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Hermione sat down on the bed next to her friend, hands heavy with clothes ready for her suitcase. "What am I going to do?"

"It's pretty simple. Tell Ron to get lost."

"You know it's not that simple. Ron's been through so much," Hermione said with a sigh. "What will happen to him if I tell him no?"

"Hermione—"

"He'll snap out of it," Hermione said. "I know Ron is in there, if I could just reach him…"

"Look, we've all been through so much. Every single one of us, including you. But we're not acting like Ron. He's changed. He's never going to be the same. He's not the guy you had a crush on for years. If you can't reach him, and Harry and I can't reach him, he can't be reached. He's not going to get better, Hermione, he's going to get worse," Ginny said evenly.

Hermione touched her finger to her lip, finding the thickened skin of her new scar. She looked at Ginny. Eyes pooling with tears, she whispered, "But if I push him away, who else will I lose? You? Harry? Your mom? I've already lost my parents…and Tonks…Lupin…Fred…I don't know how much more I can bear."

"You're never going to lose us, and you shouldn't try to make things work with Ron because of us. That's mental. He's already hurt you." Ginny indicated Hermione's lip with a nod. "It will be worse next time, I know it. And you do, too."

"But Severus doesn't want me!"

"This is not about Snape. This is about you and Ron." Ginny looked her in the eye. "Don't confuse the two. You need to do what's right for you." Hermione huffed a wry laugh at how Ginny's words echoed Harry's advice from earlier in the week. "Besides," Ginny added with a small smile, "you don't know that."

But what, in fact, did Hermione know? Did she know for certain that Severus wanted her? Did she know for certain that she wanted him?

What if Severus turned out to be like Ron? She hardly knew this new Severus, all soft smiles and wit and clever sarcasm, all teasing and flirting; she did, however, know years of the harsh Professor Snape, who wielded more malice than she cared to remember. What if this Severus wasn't who he appeared to be at all? What if she had been utterly fooled, taken in by a few precious smiles and insincere chuckles? As much as she commanded her skittish heart to focus on Her Potions Master and how his eyes alighted when she walked into the cottage, her heart wouldn't listen.

But to Ginny's point—this wasn't about her and Severus. Hermione had to make a decision about Ron.

Was she using her relationship with Ron—in whatever form it currently was—to entice him out of his dark behavior? To try and fix him? Wasn't that akin to a trick, a lie? Like a promise she would never fulfil because she no longer wanted him in that way? Even worse, was she using her broken relationship with Ron as an excuse not to pursue Severus? Was she trying to hide behind something that no longer existed so she wouldn't risk getting hurt by the one she truly loved?

Ginny had retreated to her own room, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts. Tomorrow. Tomorrow afternoon she was supposed to leave for a weekend with Ron. A fun weekend between friends was one thing, but a bonding? Merlin, she could not imagine marrying Ron. And if that was what he was expecting, it was not good news. Ron was not…pleasant when disappointed.

A decision had to be made before tomorrow. It had to be made tonight. Now, even. She had to make a choice.

Whatever Severus had meant by his words—whether he had meant a choice between continuing to try to help Ron and ending their relationship forever, or whether Severus had meant a choice between himself and Ron—she had to figure out what to do as soon as possible.

She reached into her pocket and removed the scrap of parchment Severus had handed her.

use what you find

Could it be what she suspected, that she had sent a message to herself? That she was telling herself that should use what she had just found in her drawer? Maybe if she used it, she could be certain—well, at least more certain than she was at this moment—of her feelings for Severus and his feelings for her. But should she use a Time Turner for that?

Hermione got up, crossed the room and opened the top drawer of her dresser once again. There it was, glinting in the light, snaking through the socks that remained. It called to her. As she pulled, the chain caught on something. Reaching deeper into the drawer, her fingers found a book. She pulled it out, untangling the fine gold from a green leather cover. It was her favorite, lost to her since she moved into Grimmauld Place months before: Watch Over Me.

"I cannot watch over you when you are not here."…watch over you…Sweet Merlin, she'd almost missed it. He'd as good as told her, hadn't he? Merlin, it was her copy of the book he'd been holding all this time.

The hourglass in the center of the Time Turner shone as she turned it over in her hand, and she knew.

She'd already done what she was about to do.

Hermione was going right now, before she changed her mind. Before she talked herself out of using the Time Turner for something so mundane. Before she thought all the ramifications through, damn it. Exactly how many turns would she need to arrive the night of her first visit to the infirmary? And can the Time Turner even transport me that far back? Wait, my journal…

After consulting her notes, grabbing her wand, and several old Muggle newspapers—thank Merlin she had not cleaned up the mess in her room—she smiled. The gold of the thread glinted in the room's light. I only want to know. I don't want to change anything.

Hermione placed the chain around her neck and held the pendant in her fingers, turning it, turning it, and turning it. She felt the world around her obeying in its own turning, swirling around her in a blur of color and sound.

And then she was gone.

Hermione entered the echoing loneliness of the infirmary, squinting to see in the semi-dark. Nearly all of the healers were gone for the night. Would tonight's single visit be worth the next seven weeks until she caught up to herself in time?

As she opened the door to the room she knew so well, she saw him. She padded over to his bed to brush his dark hair tenderly away from his face. He didn't move. Hermione smiled sadly. Poppy must have snuck him Dreamless Sleep. When she reached for his hand everything seemed so simple, so clear. I love this man. And it doesn't matter if he loves me or not. I could never love anyone else.

She gently sat down on the edge of the bed simply to watch him sleep.

The moon had begun to rise, its cold light caressing the tiled floor of the room. Hermione looked up to gaze out over the grounds, and Severus stirred. She turned back to him to find his black eyes watching her.

"Miss Granger?" he whispered as if he was unsure she was truly there.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Is this a dream?" he asked. "Why are you here?"

"Because…" As she started to stand, the moonlight hit her face. He reached up to touch her, brushing the scar on her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "A dream…" he murmured, then closed his eyes to sleep once more.

Now that she knew the answer to her question, it was time to go. She would leave her book, hoping somehow he would glean some the message from its title. But would he know that she had left it? Perhaps a note… She pulled a quill and ink out of his nightstand drawer and ripped the last page from her book to use.

Severus,

You may think my salutation impertinent, but I assure you that we have become very close these last few months, which you have not yet lived. I don't know if you will remember this when you awake in the morning, but I used a Time Turner to come to visit you during the night. I came to you with the benefit of the experience of the last few months of memories of us.

Yet even as close as we are, I know that you are a private man and would never speak out of turn at the risk of embarrassing us both. I came back to say that if you think there is a chance for us to have, well, a future together, I only ask of you that you find it in yourself to tell me, somehow, at the time you think it best.

In the meantime, Watch Over Me, Severus.

-Hermione

She slid the parchment inside the cover of her green book and snuck it under his motionless hand. She bent to softly brush her lips to the top of his forehead, and left the infirmary.

Hermione walked to the edge of the Hogwarts property, planning to Apparate to her parents' empty home and stay there for the next seven weeks or so. But what would she do to occupy her days besides visit W.H. Smith to play the National Lottery with winning numbers from her old Muggle newspapers?

When she arrived, Hermione found the front door to her parents' darkened home was stuck in its frame. She managed to force the door open with her shoulder, dust swirling in the stifling, stale air of the foyer. Hermione peered into the darkness. It was lonely there, the echoes of abandonment permeating the walls and saturating the air. Would she ever see her parents again? Even if she did, would they remember her? Thinking of them made her feel just like the house: empty, discarded, forgotten.

So she found she would not be able to stay.

Severus. The image of his weakened body lying in the infirmary burned in her mind. He needed her there. Besides, she had never felt empty, discarded, or forgotten when she was with him. But how would she know when it would be safe to visit him? How could she possibly remember the exact times when she had been there before, so as not to arrive when her past self was already there? If she only knew exactly when…? Well, of course.

She Apparated back to the Hogwarts main gate, made her way through the darkened castle to the infirmary, and crept inside Severus' private room. He lay there, moonlight whispering on the folds of the sheets. He looked so frail, she felt her eyes prick with tears. Hermione silently pushed her chair nearer so that it touched the side of his bed. Pulling out her wand, she transfigured the wood into a cot for herself. Then she conjured a pillow, and curled up to go to sleep.

"Miss Granger, you're here," he whispered.

"I couldn't stay away," she answered in a whisper.

"But why?"

"Please, Severus..." She paused briefly. "When I come visit you tomorrow afternoon, you must ask me to create a journal…"