A/N: Already sorry for the ending of this chapter. But I'm sure you'll like it. ;)

And sorry about the late update. RL was being demanding.

Enjoy!

Chapter 53: Spies

The whistle of the Hogwarts Express blew loudly, resounding on Platform nine and three quarters. Parents waved from the platform, teary-eyed but smiling.

Hermione turned away from the window and sighed into the empty compartment. The train started moving, the gentle motion making Crookshanks unhappy. He jumped from Hermione's lap and stowed himself away beneath the seat for a comfortable ride.

Hermione again turned to stare out of the glass window at the passing scenery. Her own translucent image was reflecting on the glass, occasionally overshadowed when the light was disrupted.

'Albus is dying.' The words had been blunt, but it was for the first time that Hermione could sense fear in Severus' voice; fear not for himself, but for the entire Light side.

She had sat rather numbly as he had narrated to her the events of the past months, beginning from the summer. She hadn't had to prod him to speak, he had spoken of his own accord. The information was highly classified. No one but Severus had been privy to that monumental secret for months. Hermione couldn't imagine how burdening keeping it all to himself must have been like…

And though he had laid it open to her, he was forbidden to do so to another member. He hadn't told her how exactly the Headmaster had managed to subdue him—but Hermione was certain that the old Headmaster had something against Severus that was refraining him from informing the Order. For he wasn't one to exactly obey baseless orders against a calamity of such degree.

She didn't question him why he was confiding in her of all people. But she knew it wasn't for her inputs, for she had given none. Hermione had not the slightest idea of what to do, except telling the Order and later deal with the consequences, whatever they were.

Hermione wanted to sit up and tell her friends what she learnt last night, every detail. But she knew the consequences—Harry would be furious and reckless, Ron would support Harry in planning something extremely dangerous like trying to procure some magical herb from the Forbidden Forest to save the Headmaster, or something equally precarious. Ginny might drill some sense into them, but as much as Hermione knew the boys, they wouldn't sit idly. Also, the last thing she wanted to do was to weaken Harry's confidence for the upcoming war.

'Why are they opening, then?!' Hermione had asked. 'What if the school is raided-'

'The news is not official, so we cannot show vigilance outwardly,' he had replied. 'Moreover, most of the student body needs protection.'

Students like her—the Muggle-borns, or the Weasleys, the 'blood traitors'. And Harry.

'Why were we not informed?' Hermione had asked heatedly, annoyed at the Headmaster.

'So as not to inflict panic,' he had simply replied. 'At least that is the reasoning given by the Headmaster.'

The compartment door slid open. A rather sullen Ron peeped in. Hermione sat up straight.

"Is it empty?" He asked in a quiet, hoarse voice.

Hermione stared at him for a moment in disbelief before nodding. "Yes, yes, it is." She patted on the seat beside her, but Ron went and sat on the opposite seat instead.

"Everywhere else was full and Harry is…busy…" He murmured. Hermione knew exactly where Harry and Ginny were busy.

"You can be here," she said quietly.

He didn't reply, only looked away at the window. He sat stiffly, more silent than he usually preferred to be. The Trolly Witch passed by, her sing-song calls went unheard or rather unnoticed by Ron.

He looked uncomfortable, and Hermione had a flash of the red-head boy who had sat in one such compartment with dirt on his nose, all those years ago. Oh, how she loved him—love had more than one definition for her; it was not limited to one meaning, one connotation. She loved Ron and Harry like family. God knew they were the among the last few pieces of a family that were left for her.

"Do you hate me?" Hermione said before realising.

He looked at her finally. "What?" He was frowning.

"Sorry, nothing," Hermione's face flushed. She sounded like a sappy tween. Crookshanks came out of his safe-haven and hopped onto her lap as if having sensed the tension. Hermione held him close. He felt like home.

"No."

"Huh?"

"I don't hate you, " Ron said, his gaze fixed in his shoes. "I don't think I can ever hate you."

"Can we still be friends?" Hermione couldn't help but ask.

He shrugged. "We…we are friends. I need time, though, to…"

"I understand," she said.

"I don't think you do," he snorted but without malice. "You have never lost people."

"Haven't I?"

Ron looked up. "I'm sorry, wasn't thinking. Sorry."

Hermione sighed. "You aren't losing me. I'll be there, as long as you want me to be there."

Ron seemed like he wanted to say something but eventually nodded and looked away again Hermione stroked her familiar's fur. She had an intuition that they would eventually sort it, eventually. Eventually, Ron would know or he would be told in the event that she did not make it in the war. In any case, Ron would know, some day. Maybe after graduating Hogwarts, after the war, one day sipping tea or butterbeer, when they would be older and more mature, she would tell him all that she wanted to, and then there would be no more secrets between them, just like before.

One day, she'd tell him everything.

UUUUUUU

Train rides had always been Ginny's favourite! Since coming to the station to drop her older brothers to the Hogwarts Express, she had been fascinated with this particular train. Especially when the compartment she sat in was shared with her boyfriend.

Yet, today, despite being on her most favoured train, in the company of her boyfriend, Ginny could not help but feel agitated. She had felt that way for a couple of days now.

By nature, Ginny prided herself to be very open-minded and accepting towards every different person, and their needs and choices. Since meeting her close friend, Luna, especially, she knew different was good. She was accepting of Charlie's homosexuality, the age gap between Remus and Tonks, Remus' lycanthropy, Percy's obsession with perfectionism if he was not being a downright prat, Fred and George's decision to drop out of school, even Bill's fiancé, Fleur, now.

But suddenly, she was compelled to reconsider her open-mindedness because never in her life could she be accepting of what she had witnessed two days ago at Grimmauld Place, at night.

Her first thought had been simple—Snape had cursed Hermione, hexed her, put her under an Imperius. But she could not deny that Hermione was too powerful to not be able to fight the curse. Her next explanation to self had been that oh, Hermione was going to become a Healer, include that with her usual caring nature—that was why she was sitting in Snape's room, doing some Healing Charm on him, even though he did not seem very happy or willing about it.

But then, why was she calling him by his first name? To that, Ginny had replied, it was out of panic. Surely, Snape was injured and Hermione was panicking because she was a Healer.

But then why was she crying? Because she couldn't see anyone in pain, duh. But hadn't she seen a lot of patients in pain already, even Ginny herself?

And then why was she—sweet Morgana's pretty shoes—why was she wiping...at the man's face and hands and neck and arms! It could be out of courtesy, couldn't it? Mere courtesy and duty. Her patient was sick, after all.

Ginny might have dismissed the incident entirely had she not seen Hermione...caressing Snape's cheek and...their faces were so close... Which Healer did that?! Why would anyone do that?!

And so it now laid crystal clear to Ginny—Hermione was not merely being a Healer to Snape. There was...much, much more to it. And though she truly supported her friend when it had come to her not wanting to be with Ron, now it did disconcerted Ginny to realise that Hermione's...other option was no Seventh year Ravenclaw, as Ginny had assumed, but it was...Snape! The snarky man who was their PROFESSOR, who hated everyone, especially those in Gryffindor and to be very specific, who loathed Harry.

Hermione had chosen Snape over Ron? Ginny thought she would faint every time she repeated that to herself. Since when was this happening? This odd business.

When she thought in retrospect, she realised that there were signs that none of them had read. Hermione's defensive nature when Ron berated Snape, her desire to remain at Hogwarts for the holidays, then both Hermione and Snape deciding to stay at the Grimmauld Place—together, then Hermione baking just one cup cake out of nowhere and taking it upstairs thinking nobody had noticed—Ginny had obviously been watching her like a hawk all day. Of course, it had to be Snape all along!

Was it even legal?

Snape might still be a Death Eater for they knew!

What was Hermione thinking, for Morgana's sake! And to think that she, Ginny had been supporting Hermione against her own brother... She wouldn't have been this disconcerted had she found Hermione with Percy!

But Snape...!

"Are you okay?" Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Ginny looked at his face—oh, how she adored that face, those eyes. It was she who had suggested they take a separate compartment because she wanted to spend some time with Harry and clear her mind, but even snogging didn't appeal to her anymore.

Harry. Ginny needed to tell Harry, she knew she couldn't keep this information to herself and spilling it to anyone else would be disastrous. She could not go confront Hermione because...because she bloody didn't know what she would say to her!

Hey, Hermione, is Snape your secret lover?

Oh, Great, Great Merlin's Balls!

But then what would she say to Harry? Hey, Harry, I think Hermione has a secret lover—Snape. Surprise! Your best friend has been betraying you real bad.

No, she couldn't tell this to Harry. He would be heartbroken. Or what if Harry outrightly denied the allegation? He was so protective of Hermione since her accident at the Astronomy Tower, and more than that, he loved Hermione so much. Hell, even Ginny loved Hermione so much! How Ginny hoped she was wrong about all of this.

"Gin?" Harry said again.

No, she would find out for herself what was really happening. She could be very wrong about this, and she couldn't let Harry on this yet. It could create monumental misunderstandings between the two best friends.

"I'm fine," she pasted on a smile and kissed Harry. He grinned fondly and drew her closer for more. Ginny sighed to herself, content.

She would soon get to the bottom of this.

UUUUUUU

Hermione's compartment door slid open again—a red-faced Harry and a grinning Ginny came in. Ron made a face at them, to which Ginny smacked him on the head.

"Hey!" Ron grumbled.

Harry settled beside Hermione and raised a brow in question. Hermione nodded with the slightest of smiles, making her bespectacled friend grin. They weren't fighting anymore at least, even though there were still a plethora of things to talk about, it was far from sorted. But they weren't fighting and Ron didn't hate her.

"Why are there Aurors on the train?" Ginny suddenly asked.

"Huh?" Harry sounded uncertain. "Where?"

"There! That's Auror Cooper, he's Dad's friend," Ginny said. "Isn't he Cooper, Ron?"

Hermione, looked out of the small window on the compartment door. A man in Auror uniform was talking to Remus (who was accompanying the students back to Hogwarts). Yes, Severus had mentioned the increased safety measures—there was apparently a threat on the school.

"D'you think it's because of the Hogsmeade attack?" Ron asked.

"Could be," Ginny mused.

Harry remained silent.

They had all known that the war was looming over their heads, but they had no predicted it to be so soon, or in the current circumstances with their very leader on the brink of dying. The Order was already a weak body, that was no secret. There wasn't much for structure, or clear goals, or trained wizards and witches. Now with the Headmaster terminally ill, Hermione didn't know where it would leave them

UUUUUUU

"Seriously?" Seamus muttered. "What do they think we are? Some Polyjuiced imposter? Just check the Slytherins and get it over with, the jackasses."

Outside the gates of the castle, the students were standing in several files. Before entering, the Professors and Aurors were scanning their luggage and confirming their identify. Hermione noticed how the line for Slytherin students had three Aurors allotted for checking—who were using extensive Charms to verify everyone's identity, while the other lines were seen to by just one, rather disinterested Auror at best. She shook her head at the blatant discrimination between students.

"You knew about this?" Harry whispered to her.

"Huh?" Hermione looked back.

He looked to his side where Ron and Ginny were busy chattering with the other Housemates. "Didn't Snape tell you any of this? There was a secret Order meeting here, at Hogwarts, yesterday."

Hermione looked up at the gates where Severus was standing between the Slytherin and Gryffindor students as the Aurors assessed them, while Professor McGonagall was currently acquainting the other Aurors to the castle.

"He told me that…there will be more safety measures in place," Hermione said in a small voice.

"But why?" Harry asked. "Is the school going to be attacked?"

Hermione bit her lip. "There's some…intel…"

"What, really?" Harry barely kept from shrieking. "What intel? When? How?"

"The school might be…a target, Harry," she said quietly. "That's all Severus had told me." If he were uncomfortable by her use of the man's name, Harry didn't show. But he did go silent.

"Harry?" Hermione touched his shoulder.

"They're planning to take down Hogwarts?" Harry's voice cracked with emotions. Hermione squeezed his shoulder. For Harry, the school was his only real home. "We'll all fight it, Harry, if it happens. And honestly, it's not an easy task to invade the school, past its wards."

Harry looked up at the castle, standing proudly, its towers touching the sky. "I'm not letting them harm Hogwarts."

"No, we won't," Hermione said with determination. "Hogwarts will remain unscathed." She looked around at the students, ranging from tiny Firsties to the experienced Seventh years. The crowd carried many a friendly faces, many acquaintances, many people whom she had watched losing their baby-faces and gaining maturity. People she had grown up with. "We'll all fight for this, Harry."

The line moved along slowly. Harry again whispered, "We must warn the others. We can set up a Defence group again."

"Yes, that's a good idea," Hermione agreed. "But you can't tell them about Hogwarts, Harry, they'll be panicked."

Harry nodded in understanding. "We can just say that we need to prepare for the upcoming battle. It's no longer a secret."

Hermione approved of the idea. They better be ready for when it was time to fight, that would inevitably come. The war was imminent. No matter how it frightened her to realise, she couldn't be blind to the very evident truth.

By the time they could make it inside the castle, it was past time for dinner. Apparently, the Welcome Feast was starting later than usual. The students were filling the Great Hall slowly, in small groups, after their checking.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, everyone!" The Headmaster's voice pervaded the Great Hall. All heads turned towards the podium where the great wizard stood, starting his customary welcome speech, but all that Hermione could think about were Severus' words, the Headmaster's lies. Whether she was imagining or not, she couldn't say, but the old wizard looked weary, sounded weak, and perhaps even stood with a slouch.

She wondered how long the man was granted—and the bizarreness of the thought sent chills down her spine. How long? She glanced at Harry and the faith with which he looked at the Headmaster. Professor Dumbledore was the guiding figure in Harry's life, how would he bear another loss after losing his Godfather? It was cruel! Harry needed to know, he deserved to know and prepare himself!

No… No, she couldn't decide. She couldn't decide what would be good for her friend. What if the news broke him? What if it was the last thread holding Harry together and she snapped it?

"Hey?" Ginny placed a hand on her shoulder, startling her. "You seem so lost today."

"I… Just tired…" Hermione mumbled. Ginny didn't insist further.

The feast appeared and disappeared, Hermione barely ate much. Her mind played back and forth between Ron, Harry, Severus and the Headmaster.

"Attention, students," the Headmaster's voice pervaded the Great Hall. Some students groaned at the delay in retiring for the night, but everyone's attention was drawn towards the podium.

"Hogwarts is known for many things, one of which is its quality to always provide the students with what time demands. A few years ago, we have provided defence classes for the student body, with our former professor-" The Headmaster faltered. The student body suddenly sat in shocked silence, even the few whisperers among Slytherins seemed had their attention on the old man.

Professor McGonagall, who was thankfully standing close by, leaned towards the Headmaster and whispered something in his ear.

"Ah, Gilderoy Lockhart, of course, of course! Do forgive an old man's slips, students," Professor Dmbledore seemed unbothered, but some faces on the Head Table looked quite pensive, even concerned.

"He's definitely growing too old," Seamus sniggered light-heartedly, joined by a few others. But to Hermione, it was yet another proof of their leader losing his touch.

"As I was saying," he continued, "In these times when darkness lurks around the corner, Hogwarts is offering extra Defence Against Dark Arts lessons to the students. The approach will be mostly practical, so as to train you all to defend yourselves if stuck in jeopardy like the Hogsmeade attack that had occurred before the holidays.

"The sixth and seventh year students will be trained by a few selected Aurors of the Ministry, thrice a week. These lessons are, of course, not compulsory but I personally advise you to consider it. A consent form from your guardians is all that is needed to sign up. Any questions?"

Ginny raised her hand high.

"Yes, Miss Weasley?" The Headmaster called.

"Why is this course not offered to the junior years?"

Once again, the Great Hall went silent. The Headmaster stood with a rather blank face in front of the entire student body, as if he had not even heard the question.

A few Slytherins were heard sniggering behind them. Harry turned to them with a deep frown, but Ron held his arm and pulled him back.

"What's the matter?" Ginny murmured to herself.

"He's gone nuts," a junior year Gryffindor snorted from down the table.

"Shut up, Harrington!" Harry spat indignantly.

"The curriculum," Professor McGonagall's voice pervaded through the silent Hall, "For the course is designed for senior students, keeping in mind their educational understanding of concepts as well as the development of their magical core."

Meanwhile, the Headmaster seemed to have regained his composure. He cleared his throat, "Thank you, Professor McGonagll for the clarification. I believe all further questions should be addressed to her, too." He left the podium with his usual genial smile that looked a little strained today.

Hermione watched as Hagrid said something to him, to which Professor Dumbledore shook his head and smiled lightly. The others on the Head Table, too, looked as confused as Hagrid, but nobody spoke again. Hermione noticed Severus' trained expressionless face, as if it was least of his bothers that his employer was losing himself.

"Any more questions?" Professor McGonagll asked. A few students did have queries but Hermione paid little attention to their questions.

It was bound to be a very tough year for them.

UUUUUUU

"Merlin, what an odd day," Minerva sighed wearily as she all but collapsed into an armchair in Severus' quarters.

Severus had been expecting her to pay a visit after dinner after the incident in the Great Hall. "Tea?" He offered.

"Something stronger, perhaps."

"Little regard for classes tomorrow, I see," Severus raised an eyebrow, flashing an amused smirk.

"Oh, come now," she said irritably.

Severus summoned a glass for her along with an open bottle, and soon poured his colleague a drink. Neither of them spoke until each of them had a drink in their hands, albeit Severus nursed a cup of tea against the stronger beverage preferred by the lady.

"Do you suppose he is too stressed?" Minerva asked.

Severus resisted his urge to roll his eyes—the Headmaster is far from stressed, he is merely dying. "I suppose."

"He is taking up far too much workload, "Minerva took a sip. "Far too much for his age. I am concerned, Severus. I suppose there are aspects to this war that are troubling him greatly; perhaps our position is more infirm than he makes us believe. Or perhaps, there are matters relating to the Ministry that he is keeping to himself-"

"Minerva," Severus held up a hand, "Maybe it is time that you play a more important role in the Order."

She frowned, "Whatever do you mean?"

Severus would have opened up to her, but as Minerva was not an Occlumens, Albus could easily know that Severus had blatantly disregarded his warning. The image of Granger in Azkaban cell flashed before his eyes.

"You are his Deputy," Severus said. "Share his workload. All of it."

She peered at him with clear suspicion. "There is something that you aren't telling me."

"There is always information that I keep to myself," he said with a straight face. "I am a spy, woman."

Minerva snorted. "Oh, the theatrics."

UUUUUUU

"Why don't you just forge their signatures?" Ginny pulled the consent form from Harry. "What's your Aunt's first name?"

"Are you sure they won't know?" Harry asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"They will get to know if they check, but I don't think anyone would bother to spell check each form," Hermione said. "And besides, it is for a good purpose."

"Her name!" Ginny asked impatiently.

"Petunia. Petunia Dursley." Harry replied.

"Petunia…" Ginny murmured and expertly penned the name on the form. "Ta da!" She held it up proudly.

"Thanks! They would have never signed," Harry grinned.

"I wish fifth years were allowed, too, I would have forged Dad's signatures in a jiffy," Ginny smirked.

"I'm glad that we'll finally learn something to help us in the war," Harry said, pocketing the form. The few, remaining students in the common room looked up and then quickly away at the mention of the war. "C'mon, it's obvious that there will be a war. Everyone is signing up from our batch, at least all Gryffindors are."

"Um, Hermione," Ginny said hesitantly, "Who'll sign your form?"

'Oh?" Hermione bit her lip. "Maybe Professor McGonagall will. But I doubt I'll be able to join until I'm on crutches."

"You already know so much, it won't take yoy time to catch up later," Ginny said. "Now, you, Harry Potter, if you didn't come back and teach me every single spell that they teach you-"

"What do you have to learn them for?" Ron, who was mostly silent, asked.

"The same reason you want to learn it for," Ginny retorted.

"Didn't you hear Mum and Dad? You will not fight in the battle," Ron stated.

"And didn't you hear me? I said I will." Ginny folded her arms defiantly.

"That is not happening," Ron said seriously. "You are too young."

"I am hardly a year younger to you," Ginny argued. "And when the battle actually takes place, I might as well be of age."

"That… That's not a guarantee," Harry mumbled.

"What do you mean?" Ron frowned.

Harry looked at Hermione, who sighed. Perhaps it was time to reveal to the Weasleys, too, what she had told Harry earlier.

"Hogwarts is a target."

UUUUUUU

The first few days of term proved to be as hectic for students as was expected. After the holidays, returning to classes was no less than punishment. Classes started as usual, so did Quidditch practices, and within a mere couple days, the defence training classes were organised with high number of students participating from Sixth and Seventh years, though the participation from Slytherins was the least.

As promised, Aurors from the Ministry were appointed to take classes thrice a week in the Great Hall. About all eligible Gryffindors attended, except Hermione. Owing to her injuries, she was unable to participate in extensive duels, especially now that she wasn't even on her Charmed-Chair but crutches. Though she regretted it, she was just as much needed in the Hospital Wing to attend to the injured students after the training sessions.

She had not gotten enough time to be alone with Severus again since the starting of the term to talk more about the situation with the Headmaster. The half-hour that they had spent together on Thursday, as was the schedule to adhere to the terms of the bond, was also spent in the Hospital Wing where Severus was requested to assist the medi-witch with preparing a list of all the potions that he would be brewing for the term.

UUUUUUU

The darkened streets of the Knockturn Alley were covered in melting sleet, mingling with the mud beneath. The streets were silent, save for the distinct commotion that could be heard from the pub a few lanes ahead.

"How many?" Severus asked, his voice hard, manners business-like.

"Eighty-ninety, give or take a few," the diminutive man replied. He reeked of stale smoke. "They're good, that much I can tell ya."

"What are they being offered in return?" Severus asked.

The man chucked. "What d'ya give an outcast? Power. Promise of power and they come runnin' like dogs, the lot of 'em."

"I want their identities," Severus demanded.

"All of 'em?" The man gawked.

"As many as you can provide."

"Names have their rates," the man smirked.

Severus pulled out a pouch from the inner pocket of his robes, and tossed it to the man. He shook the pouch and grinned when it jingled. "This will do—for now."

"One week. Or I will personally pay a visit to your residence," Severus warned, his face straight and expression-less. With a last look around, Severus turned and walked into the shadows to apparate away.

If the Dark Lord is preparing ninety wizards and witches to raid Hogwarts, Severus doubted the castle would hold up for long. For a wizarding population of around three thousand, having a standing army of ninety people from the Knockturn Alley and the rest Death Eaters was far too much in comparison to the untrained members of the Orders and the amateur students.

A sweat broke out on Severus' brows. After a very long time, he could admit that he was genuinely afraid for the future of the Wizarding World. It seemed as bleak as the moonless night sky under which he stood.

Only strategy could save them, for they were too feeble in number.

As soon as he landed at the gates of the school, he marched to the Headmaster's office to notify him. He had had very little to no interaction with the Headmaster since the last meeting. In a way, Severus had absolutely lost trust on the judgement and sanity of the old man. His week had gone by working alongside Minerva on Order matters that were now delegated to her.

He reached the gargoyle and submitted the password, all the while recalling his meeting with Rafe Stark, his informant. The man had been in contact with him for quite a few years now. Money did a fine work of enticing him.

Severus knocked on the door but didn't wait for a reply before entering—good thing, for Albus was fast asleep in his chair again. Severus huffed. "Wake up, Headmaster!" He barked.

The older man did wake up, but he looked barely awake. This fatigue, Severus could recognise, was a sign of his worsening health. His body was not able to cope with his activities.

"Severus, my boy," he said, butr the cheeriness of his voice was severely lacking. Severus felt a pang of shock and incomprehensible sadness. For all his recent aversion towards the man, he had still been something akin to a friend, even if the friendship was only a means to an end for them—for Albus, it was the way to keep Severus' allegiance intact; and for the Potions Master, it was a way to stay out of Azkaban.

"Lemon Drops?" Albus offered. His eyes were unalert and drowsy.

"The Dark Lord is preparing ninety men ansd women from the Knockturn Alley," Severus laid the information out bare.

"What is your source?" The older man asked

"My informant, that is all you need to know."

Silence pervaded the circular office. Albus did not speak for a long while and Severus suspected that he had already fallen asleep. His head was hanging, his beard pooling in his lap. He looked like a frail, old man—far from a leader, far from the dynamic Albus Dumbledore.

"Albus?"

But soon, the chorus of snores, coming from the portraits, had included the snores of Albus, too.

Severus stared at the figure of the man for a moment. The figure was unrecognizable. A realisation, that he had been blocking from entering his conscious thoughts for many days now, finally came to him, they were going to lose.

The realisation made him feel full and empty all at once. With resigned steps, he left the office. Severus seldom admitted to feeling so resigned, but today he had no qualms about admitting to it.

If they lost, ironically, he might be the only one to have a chance at survival, if he kept up his pretence of his loyalty towards the Dark Lord. But everyone else around him would, most definitely, be dead. The handful of people whose survival would actually matter to him, would be all gone—Minerva, Granger…

"Professor?"

Granger? Severus blinked. He hadn't realised when his feet had carried him to his office. Granger sat outside the locked door, struggling to stand up from the floor.

Rather unconsciously, Severus reached out and gingerly helped her regain her balance on er crutches.

"Thanks," she breathed, finding her feet. "Should have conjured a chair."

"Foolish girl," Severus lightly admonished. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

"Your note," she said but he looked at her cluelessly. "It's Saturday… You asked me to come at this time."

It took Severus' conflicted brain to realise that she was referring to the term of thirty minutes. He quickly checked the time and sighed in relief—there was still more than an hour left for the day to end. "My apologies, Granger. It had-"

"It's alright," she quickly said. "I know you're busy."

Severus ran a hand down his face. He needed to be more attentive. His carelessness could have caused Granger today—again. He had completely forgotten about their meeting after sending her a note.

They went inside his office.

Severus felt haggard to say the least. Once again, he was overworked and thus got very little time to rest. Moreover, he was suspecting a summon rom the Dark Lord tonight, too. Each time he went among the Death Eaters, their confidence of the upcoming future and the Dark Lord's smugness not only rattled but also concerned him. They were prepared.

"I didn't see you at dinner today," Granger's voice broke his stupor.

"I was with-" He paused. No, he had already revealed too much to her. There was no point in worrying her more with the recent developments, or the lack thereof. "I was busy."

"Oh," she murmured, then sat quietly. The silence that fell was not awkward, but heavy.

"How are your training sessions getting across?" He asked for the sake of initiating a conversation.

"I…cannot train yet," she said quietly, her eyes flickering between his face and her crutches.

Severus mentally kicked himself. "Of course. Yes," he murmured, clearing his throat. "I was not thinking."

"We don't have to force ourselves into having a conversation, Severus," she said lightly.

Her straight-forward attitude still took him by surprise, at times. He released a weary sigh and sat back. Now that he thought of it, they had hardly conversed in the past week, owing to their respective schedules. In fact, since burdening with the news about Albus,, he had even forgotten to ask how she was holding up.

"Um, would you like a Butterbeer?" Granger fished out two bottles from her satchel. It reminded him of their little trip to Hogsmeade a few months ago.

"I wonder what else you keep hoarded in that bag of yours," he snorted, accepting a bottle.

Her face caught a pinkish hue at that. "Well, I guessed you'd be Hungary, so I…" She shrugged but with a genial smile.

Something deep within him released, perhaps a part of his stress drained away. Her minor gesture meant something deep to him, something he couldn't decipher himself. How could someone be bothered enough to notice whether he had eaten or not?! In all honesty, he himself did not care for those trivialities of his day. Neither ad he ever cared so much for another person in a long while, perhaps since his mother and Lily had died. He had only ever cared so much for those two people in his life. And he had been initially worried about Granger's deteriorating health soon after the summer break. But he realised that it had been the bare minimum he could have cared for after th events of the fateful summer.

But this witch who so candidly sat before him cared for his headaches and his missed meals and his stressors. And though it used to rattle him, but nw that he knew that Granger was not under the influence of the terms of the bond, and that her caring was genuine, it did something indecipherable to him.

"Severus?" She again broke his train of thoughts.

Severus looked at the bottle in his hand and reminded himself to be attentive. He twisted the cap open and took a long swig of the cool beverage. It was much needed.

"How was your week?" He asked, this time out of genuine curiosity.

"Hectic," she sighed. "There was a lot of work in the Hospital Wing, and the first week of classes is always a bit overwhelming. How was yours?"

"About the same as yours—hectic," he took another swig.

"Can't wait for the next vacation," she chuckled.

They spent the remaining time mostly in comfortable silence, sipping their beverages.

After Granger left his office and called it a night, Severus sat back and reflected. After the kind of week he had had, he realised that perhaps this comfort was exactly how he would have wanted to end it. Rather than finding this comfort in his quarters, with Firewhiskey for company, he could easily find it her with Granger and Butterbeer.

He pulled open his desk drawer and fished out the bottle of balm that Granger had given him. He could not deny its efficiency. Severus massaged his forehead and temples with the brew. He breathed in the magic of the Charm—the essence of familiar magic that made him feel Granger's presence around him. Unknown to him, a smile graced his face up. Even this illusion of her presence brought peace to his heart.

UUUUUUU

Unbeknownst to both Severus and Hermione, a figure, outside the Potions Master's office, under Invisibility Cloak, quietly walked away, following after Hermione.

The figure removed the Cloak in the safety of an alcove. She ran a hand through her long, red hair, before casting a Tempus. It was nearing Twelve. Whatever guilt she felt at stealing her boyfriend's Cloak, and spying on her friend was quickly overpowered by the question—what had Hermione being doing in Snape's office for about an hour?

Ginny Weasley had a slew of questions and shock to battle through.

Yet, she made her way back to her common room with commendable calmness. She kept a straight face. And even though she had every intention to tell Harry and even Ron, she controlled herself. She would first confront Hermione herself, not that there was much to confront about at this point. Ginny knew the truth—there was an illicit affair between the two most unlikely of people.

The portrait door swung open to an almost empty common room. Only Ron sat by the fire, other than a few Fourth years who were chatting about in a group. Everyone seemed exhausted after the week of training and classes to have retired this early on a Saturday night.

"Has Hermione returned from… her rounds?" Ginny asked Ron with forced calmness.

Ron looked up at Ginny. "Where were you?"

"None of your business," she said in her casual bickering tone. "Has she?"

"Yeah, she just went up to her dorm," he replied.

Ginny clenched and unclenched her fists then shrugged before upstairs to her own dorm. Tomorrow. She'd talk to her tomorrow.

But what Ginny didn't notice was the moroseness on her brother's face, and the piece of parchment in his hands.

Ron looked down at the note again, and read it for the umpteenth time, only to find the words meaning the same again.

Miss Granger,

Please come to my office at Ten Thirty. My apologies for choosing the late hour today but I am required to attend to some work that will consume my hours. Please be careful, in case Mr. Filch is patrolling the dungeons at that time.

-S. S.

The words glared at Ron mockingly. Hermione's lie of going on rounds mocked him on his face. At the same time, a realisation dawned on him—it had been Snape all along.

A/N: Oh my! She is stuck, hasn't she? Please review! Very excited to hear from you.