A/N: cloudshape to ennien, I have answered your question at the very end of this update. :)

Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 28: A Friend In Need...

Hermione's face was drained of colour. She could feel her breath caught in her chest. On the Marauder's Map, which Harry had handed her, a slew of names floated from one destination to another in the castle. And among those names, her own flashed as 'Hermione Granger-Snape'.

The world froze around her as her gaze remained fixated over the words. Her name, with a change that she herself had never expected.

"H-Harry... It's..." She swallowed. Her hands were trembling, holding the Map. How would she ever make him understand? What was she supposed to tell Harry? Would he ever understand? Or would he start hating her for not telling him the truth. He hated Professor Snape, would he hate her only for associating with him?

In her peripheral vision, she watched the Professor casting a Privacy Charm around the room, scowling darkly.

She had never considered that her name would be changed... Hermione Granger-Snape? The idea that the infernal bond, the Dark Wedding, would work like a true marriage was absurd. Every time she thought she might be learning to cope with the situation, something happened to undo the progress she had made.

Looking at Harry, she quickly tried to weigh her options—perhaps she could tell him the Map was tampered with? But knowing Harry, she knew he would never believe her. Then her eyes met Professor Snape's, now not Harry's doppelgänger anymore. Though not outwardly, he seemed just as conflicted as her. They had never assumed something such happening. At the most, Hermione had feared someone spotting her with the Professor or perhaps spotting the band on her finger. But never had she considered the Marauder's Map. For all their adventures with it, the prospect had never crossed her mind.

"I've seen this change when I was looking for you on the night of that accident." Hermione could not decipher what laid behind his voice. "What is this, Hermione? And why is Snape here, looking like me, for God's sake! And he was here that night, too, when I came after curfew to visit you, wasn't he? I saw him on the Map! In fact, he's here every night-"

"Potter!" The man growled. "You will mind your own business. If I hear one more accusation leaving your mouth-"

"This is my business!" Harry shouted. "Hermione is my friend! And whatever you're doing is the reason she's like this!" Harry was pointing at her Charmed-Chair, glaring at the Professor. "You are to be blamed, I know it! That's why you were the one to go below the Astronomy Tower when she fell. How did you know what had happened when I only told McGonagall!"

"You foolish boy, your Head of House was in my company that evening!" The older wizard was fuming. "Moreover, I am not answerable to you, Mr. Potter."

"You bloody well are!" Harry yelled. "What did you do to her? Why is her name changed! I won't be shocked if I get to know that you pushed her off the Tower!"

"Harry!" Hermione cried. "Please."

Harry turned to her. "No, Hermione, you don't have to defend him. Trust me, tell me whatever he's done-"

"He has done nothing, Harry," Hermione could feel her eyes already stinging. "Please, just drop it."

"Drop it?" He spat. "I cannot just 'drop it'!"

"Potter," Professor Snape said, "Do not poke your nose where it does not belong. This does not concern you, boy."

"It bloody well concerns me!" Harry bellowed. He turned to Hermione, "Are the rumours true? It was a Slytherin, after all. While we all were thinking it was Malfoy, this bloody Death Eater was the culprit."

"Potter," Professor Snape hissed, now practically towering over the younger wizard. "If you have any sense of self-preservation in you, you will exit this room and not dare to open mouth regarding this, later."

Harry clenched his fists. "And you think I'm afraid of a Death Eater like you-"

"He is not a Death Eater!" Hermione shrieked.

"He is!" Harry said with fervour. "He killed Sirius and now he's after you!"

"He did not kill Sirius, Harry," she slammed the table with a fist in frustration. "He, in fact, informed them that we've gone off to the Ministry."

"It was because of his constant taunting that Sirius went there!" Harry hissed as he glared fiercely at the other man.

"Sirius was not a child to have overlooked his own safety because somebody said something to him," Hermione said with a slightly quavering voice. "He was your Godfather, Harry. He came to make sure that his Godson was safe. That's what parents do. It is nobody's mistake."

"Is he blackmailing you?" Harry turned a wary eye at her. "I cannot possibly believe that you would take his side without him blackmailing you. The likes of him have no limits, no qualms about getting what they want."

"For God's sake!" Hermione huffed. "Harry, please, he has done nothing of that sort!"

"So why's he here?" Harry yelled. "Why is he with you every night? Is he blackmailing you? Has he-"

"Enough!" The Professor snarled. For a moment, Hermione was certain he was going to draw his wand at Harry, but the man did not lose his composure. "Mr. Potter, this discussion ends here. If you have inquiries, you are free to approach the Headmaster. But other than him-"

"Dumbledore won't see a fault in you even when you cast an Avada at him!" Harry spat. "I won't stay silent and let the Order worship you!"

"Potter, you-"

But before the Professor could finish, Harry's wand was pointing at him, swiftly followed by the Potions Master's wand, pointing at Harry.

"Stupefy!" Harry shouted.

Hermione panicked. "Stop this!"

Professor Snape's gave a lazy twitch to his wand and deflected the spell. "Really, Potter? At least, honour my instructing and pose a little better challenge."

Now furious and teary-eyed, Hermione yelled. "Stop instigating him, Professor!"

Harry's face crumpled in fury. "Diffindo!"

Another lazy twitch and the curse was defied. "Mr. Potter, you will soon learn that attacking a former Death Eater is a little more complicated than attacking a fellow batchmate."

"Former?" Harry gave a dark chuckle. "You're still every bit of a Death Eater, Snape! Everyone will know of this! Everyone will know of whatever you've done to Hermione! That you were the reason she fell off the Tower."

"No, Harry, that's not true," she cried. "Please, put your wands down!"

"Then what is?" He demanded. "You think I'd believe the shit story we've been told? That you, of all people, just slipped? I've known you for six years, Hermione, you cannot expect me to believe this! Somebody pushed you!"

"Nobody pushed me!"

"This Death Eater did!"

"Harry!"

"He pushed you, Hermione. He's the reason you can't walk today. He wanted to kill you!"

"No, Harry!" She shrieked. "He didn't do anything but bring me to Madam Pomfrey when-"

"Of course he did that to save his ass!"

"I JUMPED!"

Silence fell over the room. Hermione could only hear her own panting breaths in the quiet. What her anger and pleading couldn't do, her silence did—both wands were down and sheathed immediately.

Harry was staring at her, appalled. Professor Snape, for his part, was assessing Hermione, a knowing look in his eyes.

"What?" Harry whispered.

She averted her eyes away from the two men. All she was aware of was her own trembling and tearful eyes. She had never before admitted it to anyone in the open. The ones who knew the truth had already surmised the fall to have been a suicide attempt. The confession left her light-headed and shaky.

"You...jumped?" Harry said in shock, as if testing the word on his tongue for the first time. "Why?"

Hermione covered her face with her hands. What could she say to her best friend now? What could she tell him, if not the truth? Would he hate her to know how cowardly she had behaved, how she had wanted to escape her troubles and...die? Would he understand that she wasn't proud of her actions? That she couldn't think soundly that night?

"Why would you...do that?" Harry asked quietly. "Did he force you to?"

"God, Harry, no!" Her voice was muffled by her hands. "I did it because I wanted to."

"You wanted to?" He sounded at a loss of words. "I don't believe it."

"Then believe what you will," she said in exasperation, bringing her hands down on her lap. "I jumped off the Tower, and nobody coerced me to. I just didn't want to live!"

The first tear rolled down from her tear filled eyes. Hermione looked down and braced herself for the berating that was to follow. The Wizarding World never took kindly to such acts, she knew. Harry, who had had such a tough life, and still never took such measures, would abhor her for her weakness.

Harry knelt before her armchair, his own emerald eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "You...didn't want to...live?" He said so quietly that it was almost lost between Hermione's sniffing.

"I'm sorry..." She whispered.

But what followed was not words. A set of slightly hesitant arms pulled her gingerly towards a warm body and held her tightly. Hermione found her face buried in Harry's shoulder as he knelt there on the cold stone floor.

For a moment, it was hard to register, the movement, the action, when all she was anticipating was a bitter berating. When her shock dissipated, she felt relieved, like she had that day at the Grimmauld Place.

Hermione brought her own hands to hold her friend to herself. And soon, her sobs followed.

"I couldn't be...brave enough..." She mumbled, her quivering voice muffled into his shoulder. Maybe he heard her, maybe he didn't, but little mattered.

Harry tightened his hold on her, for which she was immensely grateful. Because her best friend's arms were keeping her from breaking. Harry, who hardly ever showed affection by his actions, was keeping her grounded today. Maybe, she had always given Harry less credit than he deserved.

Raising her eyes, Hermione saw the Professor standing in a corner, clearly discomfited. He seemed conflicted between giving the friends privacy and staying behind, just in case.

I must go, he mouthed to her.

Hermione barely registered when the door opened and the Potions Master took his leave.

No words were spoken between the friends as her sobs gradually subsided. When they parted, both faces were morose and blanched. Maybe for the first time she noticed that her friend with his unruly hair and wire-rimmed, round glasses held maturity that of an adult. Her childhood friend had grown up, too. And why wouldn't he not? After all, he had understood death at far younger an age than she did.

"Why?" His barely whispered. But his voice held no accusation, whatsoever. There was only concern... A question that he needed an answer to, because he cared.

Hermione shook her head, at a dearth of words.

Harry got up and dragged the stool closer, that the Professor was occupying earlier, for himself. "All these years, Hermione... Every time I did something dumb or got us in trouble, you came up with solutions..." He sighed and trailed off.

From her years of knowing Harry, she knew he seldom spoke so freely about how he felt.

"Last year," He looked every which where but at her, "You kept nagging me to talk, to eat, even though I kept pushing you away. And now...when you need us... Damn! I could see something was bothering you since I found you alone on the train."

Hermione sighed, suddenly feeling weary. She dabbed her eyes with her hanky.

"What happened?" He asked, looking at her intensely. He held the Map up, "I didn't bring this up before because you weren't well. But I know this has a huge role to play here..."

Hermione slumped back into her chair resignedly. She truly wanted to tell Harry, tell him everything and let a part of the burden off her chest. But...would he understand it for what it was? Or would he continue to blame Professor Snape?

"Harry," she said in a slightly quivering voice, "I well tell you, but promise me that you will not breathe a word of this to anyone. Anyone. Not Ron, not Ginny. Nobody."

Harry looked conflicted. But he nodded, nevertheless. "Okay."

"And please, when I tell you, keep your prejudices against Professor Snape at bay," she said clearly. "Can you do that?"

"Hermione," he ran a hand down his face, "From where I see this, he has...done something absolutely terrible to you... You can't expect me to do nothing if you tell me that he has been...mistreating you or something..."

"He has never mistreated me, Harry." As Hermione said it, she herself, too, realised just how courteous the man had been to her, as much as he could—which was quite a lot for the Professor. Yes, he had been temperamental at times, talked to her harshly, especially when he addressed her as 'girl'... But hadn't Hermione been extremely insolent with him, too? She had given back just as good as she got... They were humans, after all, no saints.

Harry shrugged, not too convinced, "Fine, I'll...try to be unbiased."

Hermione nodded slowly. For Harry, it must be tough to get over his hatred for the Potions Master. They had too much bad blood between them for a miracle to happen. Yet, she wanted her best friend to know of whatever had transpired with her since the attack.

"The attack that happened on my parents..." Hermione took a deep breath, "...I was right there, when it happened..."

"What?" Harry was shocked. "But Dumbledore said that you were..."

"He lied. He had to..." She sighed, feeling more shaky now. "I was there. The Death Eaters...they kidnapped us, took us to Voldemort."

"Hermione..." Harry took her hands into his.

"They...tortured them...so much..." She could feel a sense of dread seeping into her skin as she recalled the night. "So much that...they were as good as dead." Her words came out in a whisper. "They shuffled through my mind to get any information they could, before deeming me useless. I was of no use to them, Voldemort decided that I die..."

Harry gently squeezed her hands but Hermione barely registered it. Her eyes, though fixed at Harry, were watching the faces long gone, pale, agonised faces on which she had only always seen kind smiles.

"Voldemort called Professor Snape," she went on, hardly aware how her voice was wavering. "He was ordered to kill me to prove his loyalty. But...he somehow tricked Voldemort into believing that...I can spy on you." Her eyes refocused on Harry's face. She looked for accusation or doubt but she found none.

"He made Voldemort believe that I can...turn you deeper into your...supposed depression after losing..."

"Sirius," he finished for her in a voice just as low as hers.

"Yes," she sighed deeply. That one word, one name out of Harry's mouth depicted how painful it was for him to still remember his Godfather. And fortunately or rather unfortunately, Hermione understood exactly how he felt with that void in his heart, for she, too, harboured a similar void into hers.

"So...Voldemort agreed, but he ordered Professor to...kill my...kill my Mum and Dad," a lone tear slipped down her tearstained face. "He had to kill them... I was there, I watched, I just watched..."

"That bastard!" Harry growled.

"No, Harry," Hermione squeezed her friend's hands. "For months, I continued to blame the Professor for murdering them. But when I watched his memories, I understood how utterly difficult it was for him and how much he regrets doing it."

"His memories?" Harry asked. "He's an Occlumens, Hermione. He can easily fabricate his memories."

She shook her head, "Professor McGonagall had given me those memories. Professor Snape didn't even know of it. They were not fabricated or at least the Headmaster would've known. He, too, saw them."

"Dumbledore and McGonagall, both know of everything." He repeated to himself more than questioning her.

"They were told the moment we returned from Voldemort's Headquarters," she replied. "I don't exactly know what happened, but when I had woken up, Professor McGonagall was there with me."

"Woken up? Returned where?" Harry was clearly confused with Hermione's patchwork of explanation. "And that still doesn't explain the name change."

She could not delay any further, Hermione knew. Whatever his reaction might be, she had to tell her friend. "After the...killing, Voldemort decided that he needed a tool to control me," Hermione continued, realising that it was for the first time that she was narrating her version of the events to someone. "But an Imperius would not have worked for long on me. So...he came up with a...ceremony...a bonding ceremony. The Dark Wedding."

"Bonding ceremony?" Harry spat. "To...to Snape?!"

"Harry, please," she closed her eyes against the fresh tears. The narration already wearied her.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Sorry, I just... Hermione, you're like my sister! You can't expect me to... God, this is insane!"

"It's bizarre, I know," she mumbled. "It was terrible, the first few weeks, especially. The bond has...terms that I- that we have to abide by."

"What terms?" He asked gravely.

"I don't want to discuss this in detail, Harry, please," she shook her head. "Just know that...we are both stuck in this. We're both suffering."

"Wait," he said. "You weren't in a safe-house in Wales, were you?"

"No," she told him honestly. "One of the term says that we have to live under the...same roof."

"You had to stay with Snape?" He muttered to himself in disgust. Then he looked directly into her eyes. "Hermione, be honest, did he...did he take advantage of this...of you..."

"No," she quickly clarified. "No, Harry, never. In fact, he worked to make these terms as easy on me as possible, honestly. He never did anything to...he never took advantage of anything, never intentionally." That brought back the sour memories of the consummation. Hermione shook her head to clear her mind of them. But even then, the man had never taken advantage of her. Now that she thought of it, he had never laid a hand on her—literally and metaphorically. Be it on that horrid night or since then, he had been nothing but courteous and chivalric—for the most part, if not all.

Though she would never recall that accursed night of consummation without feeling sick, she could see clearly that it was a torture on both the parties.

But she would not tell Harry of the consummation. He would obviously blame the Professor. Anyone would. She herself would have, had it not happened with her own self.

"Does he control what you say?" Harry asked, now guarded.

Hermione blinked at him. "No, it doesn't work like that. He can give me orders, but-"

"Orders?" He growled. "How dare he-"

"He doesn't," she clarified. "He has never. But sometimes the bond takes mere words to be an order. He even phrases his sentences mindful of that."

Harry ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know, Hermione... It's just all so freaking morbid."

"I know it is," she compressed her lips together. "You mentioned seeing the Professor with me, on your Map. That's because that's another term—we are bound to spend at least thirty minutes together, every day."

"Every day?" To him, the idea was nothing if not absurd. But Hermione didn't share that feeling anymore, she realised. She had even come to enjoy their meetings now.

"Oh, God, it's getting worse and worse," he muttered. "And what if the terms are not followed?"

Her hand unconsciously went to her third finger. "You remember what happened in the Great Hall that day, when Professor McGonagall had to take me away?"

At first, he looked blank. Then realisation donned on his face. "It was because... Oh, shit. What had happened?"

"Doesn't matter," she did not want to get into details.

"It does, Hermione," he insisted. "Did Snape-"

"Harry," she sighed, "He never does anything to hurt me intentionally. But sometimes, it just happens. We're both suffering in this." She vaguely recalled the night when his grip on her hand had led to the incident with the glass vial—that, she reflected, was what she meant by unintentional.

"You are, more," he said in a steely voice. "You're bearing way more than you should. That's why you...did this."

"I was not thinking straight," she told him. "I was just so overwhelmed that... I didn't think, Harry. I couldn't."

"Then, you should have!" His tone was mildly accusatory now. "You're Hermione Granger, you think before acting, not like us. Do you know what we went through when we saw you like that! We thought we've lost you! Pomfrey was saying something about a brain damage. We thought we'll never have you back as you are."

"I'm sorry..." She mumbled and looked away. "I couldn't think straight at that time. I don't know what came over me."

"Hermione," Harry said seriously, "Will you do it again?"

Then, she did look up. Her friend's eyes showed naked worry and concern, mingled with fear, intense fear. "Sometimes, Harry, I think I won't, ever. But other times...I feel so overwhelmed that..." She paused. Her own admittance shocked her. "Professor Snape said that I might have...depression."

Her hands were again taken by Harry's. "I'm not an expert on this, but I have lost too many people to know how it sometime gets on the nerves."

"How morbid it is the similarity that we share," she muttered.

He snorted bitterly. "Shouldn't you see a Therapist?"

"Mind-Healer," she corrected. "And no, I won't. I can't talk to a complete stranger about all this."

"How does Snape know that it's depression?" He asked.

Because he's seen it from too close a proximity. "I don't know," she said, instead. The Professor had entrusted her with his secrets. She would never break that trust.

"Can't he brew something for you?"

"He can, but Anti-depressants are more harmful than they do any good," she said. "But he gave me a diary. He said that writing might help. It does."

"Snape gave you a diary?" Harry repeated in shock.

"I told you, he's been nothing but courteous," she said earnestly. "He's not a bad person."

Harry opened his mouth to say something but then snapped it shut. Hermione could tell whatever he had in mind was something she wouldn't like. But she still said, "While we are at it, just say it."

"You can't deny that he killed your parents," he said in a low voice.

Yes. She couldn't deny it. How could she? After all, she had watched it with her own eyes. And then she had watched it in the Pensieve with the Professor's eyes. Now when she ruminated over it, she could tell why it had been important.

Yes, maybe without the Killing Curse, her parents would have lived—for an hour or two more. Suffering. In pain. Pain from the numerous curses that they were tortured with. Being Muggles, there was no cure for the damage the magic had done to them.

So how could she stay blind to the fact that the Professor had ended their suffering? And especially after watching the events unfold from his vantage point and hearing his conflicted thoughts, she couldn't deny that he was reluctant to do it. Although Hermione was also not blind to his faults either. The mere idea that his Killing Curse had worked so efficiently on her parents said in no uncertain terms that it was far from the first time he had cast it on someone.

But she already know that, didn't she ? He had once been a Death Eater, was a spy now. He must have cast the Curse on many, intentionally or unintentionally. But wasn't he redeeming himself now? Working for the Order, risking his life. Didn't he deserve a second chance, too?

"Hermione?" Harry's voice brought her back. His statement still hung between them.

"They were so tortured that...Professor only gave them a painless death," she said in a whisper. "He even retrieved their...bodies, and arranged for their burial."

"Of course, he'd say that," Harry was not convinced at all.

"Professor McGonagall told me," she said. "He never breathed a word of it to me. In fact, the kind of things I said to him while I was under the wrong impression, I feel so ashamed about that now. But he never retorted, never contradicted me."

"I can't believe this," he muttered.

"I even attacked him physically," she said sheepishly. Recalling the incident brought humiliation to her. She could feel her face heating.

"What?"

"On the first day," she explained. "Right after the entire attack... I was so incensed that I attacked him. And you know, Harry, he never even raised a hand to defend himself."

"It seems, the Snape you know is very different from the Snape we know." Harry had said that acerbically. But Hermione suddenly realised how true that was.

The Professor Snape they had known for years was not the same as the man she had come to know in the last few months—the man who shared his life story with her; who was open enough to share Order secrets with her; who gave her the diary to combat depression; who talked to her and listened to her; who sometimes hid a genuine smile behind his fingers raised to his lips. Of that man, she was not afraid to present her opinions, her thoughts. That man was kind, even empathising. Never in the open, though.

"He's a good man," she found herself saying.

"I can't believe Snape without talking to Dumbledore," Harry declared.

"Harry..."

"Hermione, please, I honestly can't believe that Snape would take a chance at his life to save anyone, especially one of my friends," he announced. "I need to talk to Dumbledore. He already knows, anyway."

"Alright, talk to him if you want to," she granted.

"I just can't understand why Dumbledore trusts him so much in the first place!" He huffed.

"Professor Snape is bound by an Unbreakable Vow to Professor Dumbledore," she told him as the Headmaster had informed her on the first day after the attack.

"And doesn't Voldemort bound his servants in a similar vow?" Harry pointed out.

"Professor Snape is a spy, Harry. Voldemort thinks that he's spying for the Order. If he bounds the Professor in an Unbreakable Vow, he will not be able to spy for Voldemort," Hermione explained. Nobody had given her that explanation, she had drawn the conclusion from her own research on the subject of such vows.

"He must have a way to defy the Vow." Harry said accusatorially.

"One cannot defend the Unbreakable Vow, you know that," Hermione clicked her tongue. "The only thing that can possibly override an Unbreakable Vow is a Life Debt, and I highly doubt that Professor Snape owes one to Voldemort!"

"You mean to say that I can make Pettigrew break an Unbreakable Vow because he owes a Life Debt to me?" Harry inquired.

"Yes," she nodded. "A Life Debt can override almost all sorts of vows and curses. It's very strong magic. After all, one owes their life to another."

"Maybe, we can use Pettigrew's Life Debt in our favour!" Harry perked up.

"I think the Headmaster already has something in mind," she mused. "Did you talk to him about joining the Order?"

"Not yet. But I have a lesson with him on Tuesday," he told her. "I'll talk to him then, about the Order and about Snape. By the way, when will you be free of this bonding?"

Hermione blinked at him. Harry might have thought that it was temporary... "I won't."

"What do you mean?" He frowned.

"There's no way," she gave him a sad smile.

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean to say that...you will forever be stuck with...Snape!"

"I'm trying to accept that," she compressed her lips together.

"Hermione," he whispered, "This can't be! You can't be like this!"

"But I'll have to," she sighed again and slumped back.

"Is that why you aren't approaching Ron?" He gapped. "Is it another...term?"

"It's a clause," she clarified. "Infidelity Clause."

"What the fuck!" He bit out. "What infidelity! You're not his wife or anything!"

"He has not made these rules, Harry," she said calmly. "This bonding system was invented long back, when the mindset of the society was rigidly patriarchal and misogynistic."

"And what clauses does he have to follow?" Harry seemed disgusted. When Hermione shook her head as an answer, he cursed again. "So he can do as he likes and you'll be stuck with him! Forever!"

"Don't say it like this, please," she said softly.

"Sorry," he replaced his hand on hers and gave another gentle squeeze. "It's just that...when I think of getting to an end of all this chaos, it's always the war that comes to my mind. After the war, I'll be free. But you, Hermione-"

"I won't be, and neither will Professor Snape," she finished.

"It's all because you're close to me," he muttered.

"No," she said firmly. "Don't you dare say that. I am a Muggle-born. I would have been targeted, anyway. And, Harry, being your friend is a choice I have made on my own. And I will never regret that, so don't you dare imply that."

He sighed and hung his head low. The silence grew. Hermione knew, to some extent, that Harry would blame himself eventually. But she genuinely never blamed him or her friendship with him. She blamed her magic or used to blame her magic. But never her friend.

"And Ron?" He broke the silence. "Won't you tell him?"

"I don't know how will I ever make him understand," she shook her head resignedly. "He has feelings for me. I don't know how I'll tell him otherwise."

"Don't you feel the same?" He asked.

"Even if I do, is there a point?" She said wearily.

"That doesn't answer my question," he said insistently.

"I will never know for sure, I think," she mused. "I can never date him to know what I truly feel for him. But I think it's not Ron who bothers me, it's just the knowledge that...I will never find love, in that way."

"Does this bonding restrain you even from having feelings for someone?" He frowned.

"No, but I can never approach someone I come to love," she said. "That would be infidelity."

"You can't approach someone in a...physical sense," he said awkwardly. "But what about platonic relationships?"

Hermione gave him a watery smile. "And who will waste his entire life loving me without expectations? It's not a fiction we're living in. I've always idealised my parents' relationship. They were madly in love till they breathed their last. They lived a fulfilling life, they dated, got married, had a family. They always had each other. I will never have anyone in that capacity."

"I just can't help hating Snape even more after realising how deep you're into this," he huffed.

"Trust me, Harry, he would want nothing more than breaking this bond," she said calmly.

"How did you even live with this burden so long, without telling anyone?" He asked in almost disbelief.

"You can see how," she snorted, gesturing towards her Charmed-Chair.

"You have promised," he said seriously.

"I know," she gave him a tight-lipped smile. "You've promised, too. Don't tell anyone."

"I won't," he promised. "But wait, why was Snape imitating me here? And how?"

"Polyjuice."

"Where did he get my hair from?"

Hermione gave him a sheepish look. "Sorry..."

"But why?" He asked, completely ignoring her implication.

"Madam Pomfrey found him in the Infirmary with me, the other day- the other night," she rolled her eyes recalling the fiasco. "We wanted to be on the safe side. So Professor Snape impersonates you with the help of Polyjuice."

"That's more than a little disturbing to know, but I'm fine with it if it's helping you," he said carefully.

"Actually, Harry, there's more to this than coming here to see me," she told him, ready to make him privy to the fake memories they were working on. Harry had a right to know.

UUUUUUU

Sir, I've told Harry about the bond—in brief. He won't tell anyone. He also knows about our subterfuge. There was no way that I could conveniently lie to him. Honestly, it was more convenient for me to tell him the truth. I hope you can understand, I needed a friend to confide in.

It was a shock to Severus when Potter's infernal map showed his last name to be added to Granger's. But he should have analysed the implications of the bond in legal terms. The Dark Wedding was a counterpart to a Wizarding marriage. And similarly, the documents would change on their own accord, if the woman in marriage did not decide otherwise and informed the Ministry first that she would not have her name changed. Granger's other legal documents could only be viewed by Albus and Minerva, in the capacity of the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress. Thus, it had never posed a problem before.

In all honesty, Potter was the last person Severus would have liked to inform about their predicament. The boy was exceedingly reckless. The truth might just slip his tongue someday and incinerate their entire subterfuge. Not to mention his mental connection with the Dark Lord. Regardless of what Albus claimed, Severus had his suspensions—the Dark Lord might again try to invade Potter's mind. Granted, the chances were low, as the dark wizard had suffered rather viciously after his attempt to possess the boy at the end of the last term. Severus himself had to brew batches of potions for his former master. Yet, the threat wasn't entirely lost. But now that Granger had relayed the information to him, there was not much Severus could do, except, of course, teaching the boy Legilimency again—and the Potions Master would rather befriend Bellatrix first than teach Potter again.

Severus wouldn't deny his own prejudices against the boy. In his better moments, he sometimes recognised how pointless his bitterness was, only based on his enmity with Potter Sr. But since the brat had dared to trespass into his Pensieve, Severus didn't think he could ever see Potter in a better light. Had his mother not been Lily, he would have...

But Granger. That boy was a close friend of Granger. Close and nosy. Extremely officious. Yet, a confidant to the girl.

Severus had been flabbergasted when the boy had offered comfort to Granger rather than rebuking her for trying to commit the heinous act of suicide. Loathe as he was to admit it, the brat did posses some solicitude in regards to Granger. And Merlin knew how she needed it.

It was when the two Gryffindors had embraced each other, Severus left. He knew the matter had become private, that those two could handle without his interference.

Perhaps, confiding in a friend would help her fight her depression. He hoped the boy was sensible enough to help Granger. If he was anything like his father, Severus doubted the possibility of Potter proving to be of any aid to Granger. But if he possessed any sense inherited from his mother, he might prove to be a good friend.

Severus glanced at the waiting house-elf Granger had sent with the note. He picked up a quill and wrote at the back of Granger's note.

Miss Granger, I do not have any issue with Potter being cognisant of the situation. But I do hope your friend understands and respects the secrecy of the matter.

He folded the parchment and handed it to the elf, along with one of his clean handkerchiefs and the photo frame that he usually took to Granger. The elf popped away along with items.

UUUUUUUU

Hermione was on the verge of having a panic attack, she realised. The sun was up and the clock was ticking. She needed to get out of her lair. She needed to face the students, sitting in her Charmed-Chair, with her face still bearing the marks of her supposed accident.

What was I thinking!

"You weren't thinking, Hermione," she mumbled to herself.

"Miss needing help?" Karly asked.

Hermione looked down at her robe that was concealing her bandaged feet well. She readjusted the hem only out of nervousness. "No, thank you, Karly."

Go now, Hermione!

Hermione kept her book bag on her lap and controlled her Chair towards the door to her private room.

Don't go colliding with the walls and make a complete fool of yourself! She reminded herself rather harshly.

She passed through the small corridor of the Isolation Ward and entered the main Infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was setting a screen around one of the beds. She turned to look at Hermione and passed her a winsome smile.

"Good luck, Dear," she wished her.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Hermione returned a forced smile of her own.

She made her way to the door, chanting the mantra—be a Gryffindor! She wasn't scared, she was nervous of the unwanted attention that she would attract. Two weeks in seclusion had spoiled her.

She opened the door and moved her Chair out, only to meet with three smiling faces.

"You?" She found herself grinning like an idiot. Instant relief washed over her on seeing Ron, Harry and Ginny waiting for her.

"Finally!" The red-head flashed her a mildly annoyed look that depicted a hungry Ron.

"Of course!" Ginny returned her grin.

"Thanks for coming," she said with genuine gratitude.

"Didn't you expect us to come? C'mon, Hermione," Harry was smiling widely. They shared a knowing look, and for a second Hermione wondered if Harry had said something to the others, but the doubt quickly left her as Harry gave her a small nod in confidence. He wouldn't break his promise.

"Now can we move before there's no breakfast left to eat?" Ron rolled his eyes.

"Shut up!" Ginny elbowed her brother. "Hermione, are you ready to conquer the world with your brains again?"

Hermione laughed. "Sure!"

"C'mon, then!" She said cheerily. "Let's move, boys!"

The four of them made their way toward the Great Hall. When it came to descending the stairs, they paused and eyed each other in apprehension. Hermione had never tried her Chair on the staircase.

"Catch me if I tumble down?" She joked lightly.

"Wands at the ready!" Ginny smirked.

"You sure you don't want us to lift you or something?" Ron asked, studying the Chair in concern.

"Or spell you down?" Harry added.

"No, it's meant to descend on its own accord," she reassured herself more than her friends. "And there's a mild Sticking Charm on it, too."

"We'll stand ahead, just in case." Ron and Harry descended the stairs and stood a few steps below her. Their stance portrayed their readiness in case she really did fall off. Hermione gave them a smile and controlled the Chair to move forward, only barely aware of her teeth worrying her lips at the prospect.

Slowly, the Chair rose a few inches into the air. Hermione yelped, too afraid to find herself in mid-air.

"Chill, girl, you aren't on a broom!" Ginny chuckled from behind her.

Much to her relief, Hermione found herself descending the stairs gradually. She was immensely grateful that the Chair was not tilting itself while it descended, but remaining steady. Soon, she found herself on the landing, safe and sound. The Chair took its previous height again.

"God, I hate flying," Hermione whispered, not for the first time.

"That's some real good magic," Ron sounded impressed.

"Magic will never cease to amaze me," Harry snorted.

"Is it weird if I wanna try this Chair, too?" Ginny laughed.

Hermione's nervousness was reduced to a manageable degree. She followed her friends to the Great Hall. Thankfully, as they were slightly late, they did not encounter anyone on the way. But that meant entering into a packed Great Hall.

"Now listen," Ginny said, catching the push-handle on the Chair before entering the Hall, "These kids are idiots, and idiots gawk. Okay?"

"Alright," Hermione tried to sound cheerful.

Ron's hand landed on her shoulder. She looked up at his lopsided smile, then at Harry's. Hermione felt comfortable warmth in her heart to know how much they cared. Those realisations were important. For when the drearier thoughts took over, she latched onto the string of hope to return to herself.

They opened the door and stepped into a crowded Great Hall.

UUUUUUU

Even while Severus was in a conversation with Vector, Granger's entry did not go unnoticed. The sudden silence that had befallen the Great Hall, just as the double doors were pushed open, was a telltale in itself.

General conversations forgotten, low murmurs and pointed looks greeted her. The morons of the students left their meals and copies of the Daily Prophet to rubberneck at Granger.

Her friends were by her side, though, flanking her like knights entering a battlefield. The Weasley girl was walking right behind Granger's Chair, while the Potter and Weasley boy were on either sides. They headed for their House table, walking in a militant strides and glaring at the entirety of the student body. Granger, on her part, was pale and uncomfortable. She was biting her lip, so she was nervous. She made eye contact with nobody as they moved.

Severus observed his own Slytherin table. Granger's batchmates were unabashedly whispering and sniggering. Draco looked exceptionally pompous. The Parkinson girl was openly smirking. He did not need an ear to hear the lewd comments the imbeciles must be passing. Severus reminded himself to mirror the expression of his Slytherins.

The Ravenclaws were trying to assess the situation, some of them not even bothering with a cover for their wide, studying gazes that were sure to be discomfiting Granger. The Hufflepuffs looked sympathetic, some shaking their heads and some gapping at their fellow student with pitying eyes.

The Gryffindor table looked conflicted between some murmuring students and some students trying to throw encouraging smiles at their housemate. The Longbottom boy got up from where he was seated to greet the girl. The Brown and Patil girls, too, came pouncing, but their interests seemed more to be in the Charmed-Chair than their batchmate. Some juniors like the Creevey brothers also stood up to welcome their housemate. Well, all in all, Severus reflected, at least the Gryffindor House was appearing to be supportive.

It was then that they realised the apparent problem. How would she sit at the table?

"What'ta do, Sir?" Hagrid asked Albus, looking at the Gryffindors, standing by their table in a dilemma.

"Excuse me," Minerva murmured before getting up.

Severus watched as his colleague went down the Head Table to her students. She said something to Granger that made the girl flash a smile and nod.

Minerva gave some instructions to the students at the table. The students shifted to one side of the bench, leaving the last position empty. Their Head of House waved her wand adroitly over the empty place. A part of the wooden bench vanished to open the space.

She gestured Granger towards the empty space. The girl mouthed something to Minerva before taking her Chair to adjust into the space. The Weasley girl sat beside Granger while the two brats took their seats opposite her. The others, too, returned to their places.

As the Weasley boy started putting a muffin into his mouth directly from the dish, Severus averted his eyes away. He did not wish to revisit his breakfast, watching Weasley eat.

Minerva returned to sit beside him. "Adolescents can be really apathetic at times," she complained. "Especially boys at this age."

"Every age," Vector snorted.

Indeed. He recalled how bluntly the Weasley boy had commented upon the scars on Granger's face. And Granger had forgiven the boy. The girl was too forgiving for her own good. After an insult of that nature, Severus would have held the grudge to his grave.

But when she had the capacity to forgive him after his hideous crimes, the Weasley boy's actions were nothing more than a friendly banter. Instead of despising him as she had earlier, she bizarrely found herself indebted to him, grateful to him. He could never solve the mystery that was Granger.

Severus did not contribute to the conversation that bubbled up around him, regarding Granger. Yet, he found his eyes moving back to her, every so often. She was picking at her perfectly decent breakfast, not really interested in her chattering peers. Her eyes met his briefly before both of them looked away.

"Minerva," Horace made a miserable attempt at whispering from across the table, "Is she really fit enough to attend to brewing?"

"Yes, Horace." Minerva was terse. She was extremely protective of her students and especially her favourites—which she would never admit having. "Poppy gave her a clean chit."

"And isn't Miss Granger apprenticing with Poppy, too?" Pomona added. "If she's fit enough for that, I am sure she would be for classes, too."

"But the potions that I am making my Sixth years brew are very volatile," Horace objected.

"And need to be brewed by feet instead of hands?" Severus muttered under his breath. "How was I unaware of the method, I wonder."

Minerva seemed to have heard him as she snorted into her cup.

"Horace," Albus said too blithely for his taste, "Miss Granger is an exceptional student. I assure you, her injuries will not affect her performance in class."

"As you say, Albus," Horace said with an awkward smile.

"Granger told Potter," Severus suddenly told Minerva without preamble.

"Excuse me?" She frowned.

"About the bond," he elaborated.

"Did she?" Minerva whispered. "How did Potter take it?"

"We stopped far before the duel became gruesome, if that gives you an idea," he said dryly.

She furrowed her brow. "Duel?" Then shook her head, as if taking the last comment to be a merely a result of Severus' sarcasm. "It's actually good for her," she said with satisfaction. "She deserves to have someone to talk to. We should have thought of it earlier, before-"

Severus made a show of clearing his throat, silencing his colleague.

He ceased from discussing Granger anymore. He concentrated on his breakfast, instead. One week of meetings and two people had them exposed. If the Potter boy, in his inherent foolishness, decided to disclose the matter to a third party, nobody could stop the catastrophe. Or the boy from Severus' wrath.

A/N: I had a lot of comments and even PMs (which ffnet is not letting me conveniently reply to for some unknown reason, ugh!) guessing that Hermione will lie to Harry or Harry will fight with her over this, basically that he'll not be understanding. (Honestly, most of your ideas felt actually great and made me almost rewrite the whole thing) But then I thought—would Harry really not cooperate with his best friend who had been through hell in the last few months? He is an orphan, has only his friends as a family, shouldn't he be more supportive of Hermione? Moreover, Hermione—who can't act/lie too convincingly—wouldn't want to complicate her life further by lying about this. Also, she clearly needs a confidant in an old friend. And it's needless to say that Ron can't be that confidant, at least not yet by any means. So I decided to let things go as I had planned already. Harry will not be an absolute git about it. C'mon, we love Harry Potter, don't we? ;)

Please let me know if you agree with me on this? And what do you think about the budding romance? :)

To cloudshape to ennien: Hi! Let me start with thanking you for all your comments. I'm glad you're liking my story and are reviewing all the chapters. Now onto your question (if the bond knew that Hermione's couldn't fulfil the terms when in a coma), yes, the bond did not react badly to Hermione's inability to perform the terms because, I believe, that when the bonding ceremony was created, centuries back, it must have been assumed that a person could, at some point, be physically unable/unfit to satisfy the terms (in extreme conditions). So until she was asleep, there was no problem. But she can't do that willfully. I hope that answers your questions. Hoping to hear more from you! :)