Hermione awoke with a gasp, her heart beating so fast in her chest that she was sure it was going to burst. Her hangings were drawn, and the darkness pressed around her, smothering her. Desperate for fresh air she flung open the hangings and leant over the side of the bed.

Just a dream.

It was just a dream.

Only it didn't feel like a dream. She could feel her heart struggling to keep up with her racing pulse, the sluggish muscle thumping with a dull soreness. She pressed her hands against her ribcage and forced herself to take deep breaths. It was difficult to do with the sounds of her friends' screams still ringing in her ears.

You need to calm down, Granger. You'll have another heart attack if you carry on like this.

Her fingers rubbed in a circular motion just above her left breast, willing herself to relax.

It was the same nightmare she'd had for weeks — Ron and Harry captured by the Death Eaters, Harry forced to stand and watch as Ron was tortured in violent, gruesome ways. The whole time Snape stood on the sidelines, tapping his wand against his thigh as he watched in that cold, impassive way while they begged for mercy.

A wave of nausea overcame her, and she pitched forward, clutching her stomach.

Breathe, you idiot girl. In and out.

Harry wasn't with the Dark Lord. He and Ron were somewhere in the English countryside, hidden from the world as they tried to track down the Horcruxes. They had to be safe. She wouldn't allow herself down the rabbit hole to think otherwise, less it drove her insane.

Hermione wiped the sweaty curls off her forehead with the back of her hand and snatched her watch off her bedside table, angling it towards the window. 5:27. Hours before she had to get up for breakfast, but she knew sleep was forfeit. The thought of closing her eyes made her stomach roil. Pulling a set of robes over her pyjamas and tucking a book under her arm she left behind the snoring forms of Parvati and Lavender in favour of the common room.

The fire was still burning low in the grate when she sunk into one of the armchairs in front of the hearth. She tried to avoid the spot most days, as the sight caused a lump to form in her throat. The armchairs were Harry and Ron's favourites and it seemed like sacrilege to be in their space without them. She was getting better at blocking out the pain of their loss so she could carry on with her day, but she couldn't deny that it was still there. It followed her as the memories of her parents followed her; silent passengers that continually reminded her of the girl she had once been.

'Ignoring them won't make it go away.'

The memories of her parents, Harry and Ron weren't the only ones who haunted her.

After her heart attack, she assumed that her visual and auditory hallucinations were due to stress. Fascinated by the small changes she had noticed in her body, she had devoured every medical journal she could get her hands on, studying stress disorders and signs of anxiety. It was the only logical explanation and therefore the next logical step was to ignore them as much as possible. But her shadow Snape, much like the man of flesh and blood, refused to be ignored. He was always lingering just out of the corner of her vision, whispering to her. Calling her.

Which was why she couldn't talk to him about it. Things were just starting to stabilise between them, a weird truce that bordered between utilitarian and an outline of friendship. The thought that her Snape could be an imprint of darkness growing inside her was shameful in more ways than she could explain. It was imperative that he could never know – not because he might look down on her with disgust, but because he held knowledge.

There were things she had read about in snippets, breadcrumbs scattered here and there throughout the books he had lent her. It teased a deeper understanding of the magic that flowed through her veins, and like the curious girl of 6 who needed to understand how water fell from the sky, she couldn't resist the pull.

Hermione found herself staring at the glowing embers as they smouldered, the coals dark and rich. They reminded her of the feverish look in his eyes when she asked Snape to teach her. It made her belly swoop and brought heat to her cheeks thinking about it, even days later.

'Little by little, it will consume you,' he had warned her.

How could she tell him it was too late, that unknowingly he had extended the offer to follow him into hell and she had gladly tossed aside the pomegranate seeds for a chance at eternity.

Even if it meant losing a part of herself in the process.

'Hermione?'

She jumped, her fingers sliding to her wand on reflex, only to find Dean padding down the stairs from the boy's dormitory wrapped in a fluffy burgundy dressing gown. His eyes were glossy with sleep and his hair was matted on one side. She tucked her wand away, feeling a little foolish as he fell into the armchair beside her.

Ron's seat.

'Couldn't sleep either?' He asked, rubbing away the remains of sleep.

She folded her robes tighter around herself. 'Not these days.'

'I don't think anyone is. Except maybe Seamus,' he added with a smile.

'I expect Ron would be the same.'

Dean laughed. 'Mate, the Hogwarts Express could be rolling through his bedroom and that kid wouldn't budge.'

'I do love him, but he is so oblivious,' she agreed fondly. 'How anyone as gormless as he gets through life is a wonder.'

Dean's smile faded. 'Is he as sick as everyone says he is? Is it like… you know… fatal?'

Right. The spattergroit. She chewed on her lip. 'No, I shouldn't think so. But it was best he stayed home. It's quite contagious, you know.'

'Neville says spattergroit usually clears up after a month.'

Hermione looked away, feeling a familiar heat creep up under her collar. She was never very good at telling lies, as Snape was fond to point out. 'There can be complications.'

'Really?' Dean challenged. 'Because if it's as contagious as Neville says it is, then shouldn't Ginny also be at home?'

'Dean—'

'It's okay Hermione, I'm not about to report him to Snape.' He tucked in the edges of his dressing gown and burrowed further into his chair. 'He's with Harry, isn't he.' When she opened her mouth to object, he shook his head. 'You don't have to tell me. Just know that it brings people like us a bit of hope, yeah? Knowing that wherever Harry is he's got brilliant people like Ron by his side. Bringing down the baddies Bruce Wayne style'

The thought of Harry and Ron as Batman and Robin brought a smile to her face. They certainly made a dynamic duo. She just hoped that whatever they were doing, they were being safe. Harry was known for being reckless and charging head-first into danger.

Dean went quiet for a while and Hermione opened A Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7. Although she possessed her own copy, tucked safely in her trunk, Snape had given her another one of his schoolbooks. It appeared that his habit of challenging authority and finding creative solutions that pushed the boundaries of the obvious answers went far beyond Potions. It was exactly what she suspected since her first-year: Severus Snape was a genius. Not for the first time, Hermione wished that she could teach herself Legilimency so she could crawl inside his head.

'Hey, have you ever thought about… I dunno, leaving this place?'

She looked up from her book and frowned. 'What like… Hogwarts?'

'Maybe? I dunno. Maybe it was a mistake coming here. It's getting pretty obvious that we're not like them and they hate us for it,' he said solemnly.

Hermione remembered voicing similar fears to Snape. 'Because we're not like them.'

'It's not right, we've magic. Same as them.'

'Yes,' she agreed, closing her book. 'But… imagine you had been born with fins.'

Dean's brow furrowed. 'Like a mermaid?'

'Sure,' she shrugged. 'Except, less like the scary mermaids who live at the bottom of the Lake and more like the Little Mermaid.'

He chuckled. 'Right. I don't see how that has anything to do with magic.'

'Well, swimming would be second nature to you, wouldn't it? You couldn't see any other kind of life. And then I come along and strap some flippers to my feet. It takes me a bit to figure out, but soon enough I can swim just as well as you can. Maybe better. How would you feel?'

He pondered it for a second. 'Bloody annoyed. Why should you be better at something I was born with.'

She nodded her head. 'Exactly. They don't like us because we've proven we can start with a disadvantage and still beat them.'

'Your brain words in very strange and mysterious ways Granger,' Dean smirked. 'But I get you.'

If only he knew how strange her brain truly was as of late.

'The point is,' she continued, 'we can't let them push us out just because we're different. We have as much right to be here as they do.'

'You make it sound so easy.' Dean covered a yawn with the back of his hand.

'It's really not. I haven't got any idea how to stop them without angering the Carrows.'

'I knew it would be bad returning, but I just didn't realise how bad. They make Umbridge look tame,' he said with a shudder.

She thought about the scars that were still etched into the back of Harry's hand. 'I recon they're all on the same level of evil.'

Dean drummed his fingers on his thigh. 'You know, Granger… That's not a bad thought.'

'Sorry?'

'Last time we fought against Umbridge by starting the DA. We could do it again.'

Hermione froze, her spine aching with the phantom pain of Snape's Cruciatus Curse. 'I don't think that's a wise decision. Umbridge was an annoying puppet from the Ministry with too much power. The Carrows are literal Death Eaters.'

He grinned at her. 'C'mon, Hermione. Where's your sense of danger? The younger kids, they can't fight like us. The Slytherins are getting worse, and the teachers can't protect us with Snape sniffing around.' He leant forward in his chair excitedly. 'But we could teach them.'

She recalled Emma sitting timidly in the middle of the hospital bed, trying to take up less space. The girl had never shown up to collect Hermione's textbook, presumably too worried about any repercussions.

'We have a chance to make a difference in their lives.' His face glowed passionately in the ember light and she was reminded fondly of the same light that often appeared in Harry's eyes.

She shook her head. 'You mustn't go rushing into it. If Snape or the Carrows catch on they'll punish you for sure.'

'Yeah, yeah,' he nodded, standing up. 'Wait 'till I tell Seamus and Gin in the morning. You're blooming brilliant, you are.'

Hermione stared at the winding staircase after he left, feeling a bit like a tiny tornado had run through the room. She had a very, very bad feeling about this.

'Deansaysyou'restartingDA,' Ginny said in a rush, her shoulder bumping into Hermione's as she sidled up to her in the corridor.

Hermione blinked. 'I'm what?'

Ginny huffed and rolled her eyes. 'Dean says—'

'No, I heard you perfectly well the first time. What do you mean I'm restarting DA?'

They slowed down to let a group of fifth-years pass.

'That's what Dean says.'

Hermione shook her head. 'Well on the contrary to what Dean says, that isn't what I said. We talked about it briefly this morning but I never agreed to anything. If you and Dean want to do it, then go for it. But count me out.'

Ginny stopped, her hands on her hips. 'Are you serious?'

Hermione pushed back the sleeve of her robes to check her wristwatch. They had seven minutes to get to the next class. 'Ginny think about it logically, I can't. I'm already on thin ice for supposedly causing mischief, and I'm Harry's best friend. If I got caught partaking in anything that remotely sounded like a rebellion you know they'd take me to the Dark Lord straight away.'

Not to mention she had only just repaired things with Snape. If they got caught and he found out that she was somehow involved, he would undoubtedly be beyond furious with her. She couldn't risk it.

Especially not when she was so close to learning more.

Ginny's eyes narrowed. 'The Dark Lord?'

An icy tendril ran down her spine, startling her from her thoughts.

Shite.

Shite.

'You-Know-Who,' she said casually, trying to brush off her mistake. 'Voldemort.'

You idiot, Granger.

'Yes, I know exactly who you're referring to. Only the Death Eaters call him that,' Ginny pointed out, her expression wary.

Another group of rowdy students passed by and Hermione pressed against the wall, anxiety clawing at her chest and causing the back of her neck to sweat.

Don't just stand there! Bloody think.

'Death Eaters like Snape, who used the Cruciatus Curse last time we were caught stealing the Sword of Gryffindor. Which was your plan, might I add,' Hermione replied, summoning as much haughtiness as she could. 'Do you think he wouldn't do it again if he found out?'

Ginny had the good grace to look a little sheepish. 'You know I'm sorry about that.'

Hermione felt her shoulders relax, the tension draining away momentarily. 'I know. But you see why I can't be involved.' She sighed. 'I'm not telling you to not do it, but please be safe about it. The Muggle-borns need you to protect them from the Carrows, not shine a torch on them.'

'A what?' Ginny's nose wrinkled.

'A light,' she said, feeling slightly exasperated.

'Right.' Ginny opened her mouth before pausing. 'There is one thing.'

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

'Do you think you could make more of the Galleons? So we could communicate?'

Hermione sighed. 'I suppose so.' The corridor around them had nearly emptied of students and she checked her watch again. 'We're going to be late to class.'

Ginny grabbed Hermione's wrist, checking the watch for herself. 'Oh bugger, there's no way I'm going to make it to the Dungeons on time.'

Hermione stared at her in shock. 'You have Potions? What on earth are you doing up here? You'll never make it down there on time.'

Ginny grinned and touched a finger to the side of her nose. 'It's a good thing I was part of the Slug Club then, isn't it.'

'You're lucky I'm not a Prefect anymore, otherwise, I should dock you points for the sheer audacity.'

'Oh please,' the Weasley girl laughed. 'If you're going to dock points from me, you'd have to dock points from yourself as well.'

As if on cue the great bells run, signalling the start of class. Hermione swore under her breath and started off down the hall. She was partway down when she stopped and spun around.

'Hey, Ginny?'

There was a cloud of red hair as Ginny looked over her shoulder.

'It's what Harry would have done.'

The smile on Ginny's face was spectacular and carried her through to Ancient Runes.

Hermione sat in class, listening to Professor Babbling explain the Medieval uses for the rune Kenaz. As fascinating as it was, the wheels in her brain were whirring at high speeds, circling around Ginny's request for producing more Galleons. She was annoyed at herself for not thinking of it sooner: if she could charm a coin to help the DA communicate, why couldn't she create one for her and Snape to communicate? So far their communications outside of their evenings in the Room of Requirements had been completely one-sided, with mysterious scraps of parchment showing up on her bedside table at random times. It would be nice to be able to send a message to him on occasion should she need it.

Like now.

There hadn't been a single note from him since he had abruptly left after their conversation on the Dark Arts, and that was nearly been four days ago. It wasn't entirely unusual and she had often gone more than a week without anything from him but she was sure that evening he had been summoned, which heightened her anxiety. Her mind had come up with a million different reasons why Voldemort had called on him, and none of them were very pleasant.

Which was why if he didn't summon her by that evening, she was going to take matters into her own hands and go to him, whether he liked it or not.

By dinner, there was still no message from Snape. Hermione sat by Ginny and Dean who had their heads ducked low together as they spoke quickly in hushed voices. To any other student, it would appear that the two former love birds had gotten back together. But from the smile she had flashed in the hallway, Hermione knew Ginny's heart belonged to Harry alone.

Hermione picked at her salmon pasta between tentative glances at the High Table. Snape wasn't present. In fact, he hadn't been present in the Great Hall at all that week. Likely if anyone had noticed the Headmaster's absence they were not going to raise the alarm, for he was still Hogwarts' most loathed Professor. The staff detested him and the only students who might feel an inkling of worry would be the Slytherins. But one glance at them told her they didn't consider anything to be amiss.

But she knew the truth. She had watched him on the map as he paced up and down the length of his old office. Whatever he was going through, Hermione was determined not to let him go through it alone.

Complaining of a headache, she squirrelled herself away after dinner to her dorm room, shutting the curtains around her bed and watching the dot labelled Severus Snape while she worked on the bright silver Sickles. The Protean charm wasn't difficult in theory, but the magic was mentally draining. She now understood it was pulling on her well, as Snape called it, and chastised her younger self for attempting to charm too many coins in a row before she passed out from exhaustion. Such an act was incredibly foolish, not to mention downright dangerous.

She held the Sickles in her palm, stacked on top of each other as her wand passed over them slowly. She focused on willing them to submit to her. As she expected, the metal glowed periwinkle before a deeper shade of crimson when she felt an unfamiliar tug behind her naval. All at once her body jerked forward as though a fishing line had been cast and she was being dragged to shore. Fireworks sparked through her blood, and she flung the Sickles away as though they had burned her.

'What on earth…'

Still eyeing the Sickles warily, she pressed two fingers against her wrist to feel for the frantic pulse.

She hadn't imagined it.

You feel it too, crooned Snape in her ear.

Unnerved by the odd sensation she dropped a heavy book on top of the Sickles, banishing them from her sight.

'You're being daft, Hermione,' she told herself aloud before pulling Snape's Charms book into her lap and burying herself in her studies.

It was quarter past eleven when Lavender and Parvati finally ceased their gossiping and went to sleep. Hermione waited for what felt like ages before tiptoeing out of bed and down the spiral staircase. She held the map in one hand, her wand in the other: she wouldn't make the same mistake twice. The corridors appeared to be relatively empty with only Filch and McGonagall on rounds. There were Death Eaters dotted around the castle as always, mostly names of older Slytherins who had long since graduated. Still, Snape sat behind his old office desk, unmoving.

The dungeons were near frigid in the November air, and she mentally cursed herself for only wearing a jumper and jeans. Afraid a knock would wake the entire school, she tried the door and was thankful when it opened under her hands. Quietly she slipped inside.

The ticking clock atop the fireplace beat out a sharp staccato that echoed through the old dungeon office. The air was icy and damp, the grate empty and cold. The only light came from a single candle lit on the desk; the wax burnt low.

Hermione leant on the closed door, chewing on her bottom lip as she surveyed the man before her. Usually so composed, Snape was slumped forward on his desk, his head buried in his arms.

Something had changed.

'Coloportus.' The tension was nearly palpable as she flicked her wand to cast the locking spell. 'Professor?'

'Go away, Granger.'

Granger. Not Miss Granger. That was a start, at least.

Letting out a slow breath she crossed the room and stopped to grip one of the chair backs in front of his desk.

'Are you alright?'

'I'm not in the fucking mood. Leave,' he snarled.

His vulgar language made her flinch. 'Professor—' Her word died in her mouth as Snape unfurled his arms and sat up. 'You look dreadful,' she gasped.

Her fears that he hadn't been eating were confirmed as he appeared to have lost a considerable amount of weight in a short period of time. His face was gaunt, the sunken shadows under his eyes a stark contrast to his sallow, waxy skin. His hair was greasier than usual and hung in clumps around his face.

'Perhaps I would be more appealing if I were half as young and ginger,' he spat. There was a slight slur to his words.

She noted the empty tumbler by his elbow and wrinkled her nose in disgust. 'Have you been drinking?'

He lounged back in his chair, his eyes roaming her form in a way that made her blush. 'It's of no concern to you.'

'I disagree, it's incredibly careless,' she challenged, crossing her arms.

'You… disagree?' He arched one slow eyebrow at her, his head tilting to the side as he studied her. He was in a dress shirt once again, the top two buttons undone. She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat. 'I was not aware that you, a student, held any authority over me.'

She licked her lips, his glossy eyes following the movement. Her adrenaline spiked and she had the sudden awareness that she was in way over her head. 'I'm sorry, sir. This was a mistake.'

She was halfway to the door when he hissed, 'Yes, go on. Leave. It's what you do when things are tough, isn't it?'

She stopped. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'The Gryffindor Princess would rather hide away at Hogwarts while her friends put their lives on the line to end this war once and for all,' he told her coolly.

Hot rage rose fast inside her, filling her eardrums with a loud ringing.

Even now, even after everything, he still questioned her loyalty.

'You are truly an insufferable man sometimes,' she bit out. 'If you actually think—' She swallowed the words on the tip of her tongue and took a steadying breath to quell the flames. 'Enough! I'm not playing your stupid games anymore.'

Without looking back, she reached for the door handle when there was a loud scrape of wood against stone and suddenly his hand closed around her elbow. She found herself yanked back violently against his chest.

'If I think what, Granger.'

Instead of trying to wriggle away, she glared back at him. 'It doesn't matter! Regardless of what I say you will always twist my words against me. I am exhausted by your push and pull. I cannot keep doing this.'

His fingers dug into her elbow, his dark eyes smouldering. 'And I've never claimed to be anything other than what I am— you knew exactly what you were getting into when you came here.'

Absolutely not. He wasn't pushing this back on her as though it were her fault.

Digging her heels into the ground she stood taller, meeting his fiery gaze. 'Risking myself for the greater good? Yes. Dealing with the tantrums of an overgrown child? No, I didn't sign up for that.'

Snape's face lowered closer to hers until his hair brushed the sides of her cheeks and she could count every one of his dark eyelashes. Her breath hitched in her chest. 'I am your Headmaster. You dare to speak to me in such a way?'

She shivered. 'Let us not forget how you came to be in that position, shall we?'

His eyes darkened and for a moment she was sure he would strike her. His chest was heaving, the spiciness of the Firewhisky he had drunk a steady breeze against the soft skin of her face. The air felt wild and electric, and something deep inside her tightened like a coil ready to spring. She imagined this must be what it felt like to be a lamb standing in front of a wolf. She knew he had the power to devour her, and she wanted it.

Merlin, she must really be broken to long for a pain that could rip her to pieces.

He must have realised it too, for his expression changed and there was a shift between them. All at once he was the broken man in the alcove and she wanted nothing more than to put her arms around him and shield him from the world.

'You don't scare me,' she said quietly. 'I know what you're trying to do and it won't work.'

His grip on her loosened but still his hand remained on her arm, steadying them both. 'And what is it, pray tell, that I'm trying to do.'

'You're pushing me away. But it won't work. You're stuck with me now.'

He snorted. 'You're a bloody idiot.' He backed up then and she tried to reconcile the strange disappointment as he slumped into one of the wooden chairs in front of his desk.

'It's not the first time someone's said that,' she conceded. She followed him, resting her hip against the edge of his desk. 'I only came down here to check on you. You left so quickly, and you haven't been coming to meals. I wanted to see if you were alright.'

He leant over his desk, plucking a small scroll from the tidy mess and handing it to her. 'I've been given a task.'

When he said no more, she scanned the parchment quickly. Thick bile rose in her throat. She had read about the poisonous potion once or twice in one of Snape's textbooks and knew the particulars enough to understand how it would be used.

'You have to do it,' she stated aloud.

He groaned and ran his hand down his face before staring at the offending parchment. 'I know. I have spent the better part of the last few days trying to find another solution, and when I couldn't find one…'

She sniffed. 'You tried to drown to drown yourself in alcohol.'

'Two glasses is hardly drowning myself,' he replied dryly.

'On an empty stomach,' she pointed out.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that they were continually being forced into positions that went against their moral compass. Snape had given himself over to the war enough times now that soon there would be nothing left to give. He deserved more than that.

Hermione growled with frustration, slamming the parchment onto the top of the desk before jabbing it with her wand. 'Incendio.' The parchment spectacularly burst into flames, causing Snape to startle. His wand was out so quickly she was sure it had been in his hand all along, a jet of water extinguishing the fire.

'Bloody hell woman,' he barked. 'You can't just burn it.'

She tucked her wand neatly back into her sleeve. 'Oh I'm sorry, did you still need it? I would have thought it had been etched into your memory by now.'

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. 'There are books on my desk.'

'And you saved them.'

He rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated, but he didn't shout at her. He also wasn't looking like a drowned man anymore. She shifted closer to him, her leg brushing against his knee in the small space. 'He wants it in a fortnight. That was four days ago, which leaves you with ten days to brew. How long will it take?'

'A little longer than a week,' he said without pause. 'One hundred and thirty-seven hours and three minutes to be exact.'

'Well that's—'

'For one batch. Twice as long for two. It is impossible to brew that amount in one cauldron, and there are times when the potion needs near-constant supervision. In fact,' he pressed a hand to his brow 'most of the steps need constant supervision. It's a day and night job.'

'Which means it would be impossible to complete your role as Headmaster, leaving the Carrows without supervision,' she finished. She chewed on her bottom lip, mulling it over.

'Yes. He wants me kept busy.' His head tilted back, and she watched his Adam's apple move in his throat.

'I'll do it.'

Her earlier rush of adrenaline had returned, causing her heart to beat steadily in her chest.

Snape's face suddenly turned thunderous. 'No. Absolutely not.'

'Professor—'

'Do you understand what you're saying? This potion will kill tens if not hundreds of people. Innocent people. It will not be quick or painless.'

She pushed away the vision of Ron screaming in agony from her nightmare. She needed to be brave now. 'I can handle it.'

'I cannot ask—'

Hermione caught his hands in her own and held them tightly. She needed to touch him, to ground herself in her decision. 'You're not asking, I'm offering.' She met his steely gaze, refusing to back down. 'Show me what to do and I'll brew it. I know you think my skills leave much to be desired but I'm capable of following instructions. And, funnily enough, I find myself with a free schedule most days.'

His fingers twitched under her palms. 'Their blood will be on your hands.'

'I know.' Because she did. She could feel the weight of their lives on her shoulders, all those souls with dreams and families and talents… 'But we'll do it all the same.'

'You can, because you must.'

Snape stared at her for a long time, the light from the low candle flickering across his features. If he was using Legilimency she felt no pain, only the cold air of the dungeons sending prickles up the backs of her arms. Finally, he slumped back in his chair, and Hermione let go of his hands, mirroring his body language.

'I should dock you points for calling me insufferable,' he commented, but there was no menace behind his words. She grinned at him foolishly.

'Perhaps if you could hold a level conversation instead of getting cross at me every time you're in a mood, I wouldn't need to say it,' she blurted out.

He gave her a look. 'My, we are all for overstepping our boundaries this evening, aren't we, Miss Granger?'

She pressed her hands to her cheeks and felt herself blush. 'I'm so sorry, sir.' But there was a hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth.

He was teasing her. The realisation set off a flurry of butterflies in her stomach.

'Oh!' She hopped off the desk to dig the Sickle from her back pocket. 'A gift.'

His eyebrows arched into his hairline as he picked it up, studying it in the dim light. 'You do know the Ministry pays me a salary.'

She waved her hand. 'Yes, of course. It's paired, you see. When one of us wants to get a message to the other, all you have to do is transfigure the lettering on the coin and the other will update instantaneously.'

'A Protean charm, I presume,' he stated, brushing his fingers along the serial numbers. 'Not quite its usual use. What gave you the idea?'

'Well…' her eyes flickered towards his covered left arm.

'I see.'

Hermione squirmed, unsure of whether he considered her idea clever or if its link to the Mark on his arm had further angered him. While his mood seemed to have improved considerably, she couldn't quite trust that he wouldn't lash out at her again.

His pale fingers spun the Sickle on the desk before his palm slammed it down, making her jump. 'This room of yours…'

'The Room of Requirements?' She offered.

He hummed in confirmation. 'Could it produce a lab?'

She considered it. 'I'm sure it could but… once we leave the room, there's no guarantee it would stay that way.'

Plus, it would mean Dean and the others wouldn't be able to use it for the resurrection of DA. The thought made her feel guilty — she knew she should tell Snape what the others were planning but couldn't mention it just yet. She knew it would only be another cause for worry and didn't want to add to his mounting stress. Especially not now.

'Change of plans, then.'

She looked at him curiously. 'We're still going to brew the potion though?'

'Unfortunately, yes.' He pocketed the Sickle. 'Time for bed, Granger. It's past midnight and we've got work to do tomorrow.'

She felt a yawn coming on and stretched her arms above her head. 'Yessir.' Snape pressed a fist to his mouth to cover his yawn, and she smiled at him sleepily. 'You should get some rest too. You look like you haven't slept in weeks.'

'Hmm.'

He ushered her to the door and she pulled the map out from under her jumper, consulting it for the location of Filch and any of the other Professors on duty.

'That bloody map,' Snape growled from behind her.

She peered at him over her shoulder. 'You're not going to confiscate it are you?'

He rolled his eyes dramatically and shook his head. 'No. Lupin's precious map will survive another day.'

'Hang on… This is Lupin's map?'

Snape leant against the doorframe looking rather smug at her surprise. 'I take it Potter never mentioned it?'

'I knew there was a connection through his father, and I suppose it makes sense given that his father and Lupin were friends…' She looked down at the intricate lines and little dots outlining the castle and its inhabitants. 'It must have taken some serious magic to produce this.'

He huffed and crossed his arms. 'A few connected charms are hardly what I would call serious magic.'

'Your standards are too high,' she said, yawning again.

He unlocked the door and swung it open. 'Goodnight, Granger.'

Her eyes feeling gritty and tired, Hermione pulled off her jumper and folded it neatly inside her trunk. As she did, a flash of gold caught her attention, and she reached inside the depths to pull out her DA Galleon. The serial numbers had changed.

16.11

That was next week.

A heavy lump formed in her throat as she dug her Sickle out from under her pillow before falling back onto her duvet. She held the coins above her head, the metals a striking contrast to each other. Gold and silver. Light and Dark. Two different paths to follow, but both fight towards the same goal.

She had promised to stand by Snape's side, even if it meant facing difficult situations. Tonight, she had made good on that promise by offering to assist him in brewing poison that could be used to kill innocents. Truthfully, behind her mask of Gryffindor bravado she was sickened by the idea. Sure, she had done some morally questionable things, but that was nothing in compared to this. Knowing that she would be partially responsible for people's deaths…

But it had to be done. Snape couldn't brew the potion and keep a close eye on the Carrows, and he needed to keep his place secure by the Dark Lord's side. There was no other possible way around the situation.

She could do it. She had proven herself capable of carrying out difficult tasks when she had wiped her parents' memories to save them. She would do this to protect Snape and ultimately aid Harry.

Hermione curled onto her side, the coins clutched tightly in her fists as she fell into a fitful sleep, a lightning-bolt scar and a shock of ginger hair keeping her company.

Author's Note:

THANK YOU! I've been absolutely floored by the incredible response from the last chapter. I love hearing all of your reactions and theories!

I've always envisioned this fic a bit like a rollercoaster with a slow rise to the the midpoint and a near-vertical drop towards the end. So with that in mind, I hope you continue to enjoy Severus and Hermione's journey.

Playlist
Gasoline, Halsey
Monster, Pomplamoose feat. Dodie (although Dodie's original is also lovely!)