A/N: I'm unsure where to begin, but I'll start by saying a massive thank you to anybody who has continued to read this story in my absence. I never intended to take a 2-year break, but here I am. Please forgive me! I fully intend to now resume this story with regular updates.

Thank you to everyone who interacts with this story by favouriting, following, and leaving reviews! It's so motivating to hear how many of you are enjoying this story, and I appreciate you all taking the time to say such kind things.


Chapter 23

Late afternoon on Wednesday, 4th September, Severus was seated at his classroom desk, temple resting against his palm as he willed his headache to disappear. The past two weeks had been a muddled blur, the edges of each day bleeding into the next.

He had intended to compromise Emmeline's meeting with the muggle prime minister. A purposeful, planned decision to expose the witch to harm, and to strengthen the Dark Lord's spindly clutch on Britain. His master's recent unease was seeping through his ranks, each meeting growing in intensity. The Death Eaters were bickering amongst each other, searching for weaknesses to expose and exploit. Severus knew if he could use his insight to bring some good news, it would soothe the mounting discontent amongst his fellow footmen. Most appealingly, it would bring him back into high favour with the Dark Lord, which had seemed increasingly challenging since his second rising.

So on 17th August, after insisting he was Dumbledore's man at Emmeline's final Order meeting, he had glimpsed inside her mind. It would have been too clumsy to cast the incantation; he needed to rely on surface thoughts and emotions only. As they stood in the pokey garden at Grimmauld Place, she admitted her reservations towards his allegiance, repeating that others had skewed her judgement in the Order. Whilst her words spoke of a sudden surge in confidence for him, he could sense the apprehension in her mind; that telling him she trusted him unsettled her. In the moment, it had provoked him further, cementing that this was the right decision. A bitterness in him wanting to fulfil her perception of him. He prodded for information on her planned meeting, and whilst she offered no further details, it was enough. She had been picturing the plan in her mind, and he could skim enough from the top to forward to his master.

Except, was the Dark Lord his master? Or was that Dumbledore? Several years ago, Albus told him he was no man's servant, that he was free to act on his own volition and create a life of his own. The words had chilled him then, goosebumps uncomfortably prickling the back of his arms. He was a double-sided pawn piece picked and placed around a chessboard, waiting on a knife edge for the moment he topples, gracelessly falling on his side to reveal both colours.

But Emmeline - was this their doing, or was it his?

A capable witch, he had presumed she would turn her wand against the dogsbodies sent to capture her. In his mind, it was almost promised she would escape, even if she did so wounded. He had not anticipated they would kill her on sight, the curse being cast whilst her back was turned. She had been oblivious, unknowing of the danger directly behind her.

Severus brought his other hand to his opposing temple, applying pressure to both sides as he considered his role in the aftermath. Dumbledore could not know. Whilst he was trusted to use his judgement when navigating his relationship with the Dark Lord, it could not be revealed that he inadvertently led to the murder of an Order member, least of all one as promising as Emmeline. It was an unmistakable cut to the Order's chainmail.

There had been a questioning look in Albus' eyes when he broke the news to him, the older man carefully watching Severus for any hint that he had expected this. It had been a long while since he sensed distrust from him, another sign indicating that Severus had gone too far this time. His eyes squeezed tightly shut, and his mind flitted to the locket Hermione had given him.

Instantly, he had identified the item as an opportunity to earn some of Albus' trust back. If Hermione were choosing to confide in him, seeking his expertise, surely the silver-haired wizard would regard this as evidence of his true loyalties? Yet the existence of this locket had brought an even more troubling plight with it.

His mind had been so preoccupied with using the item to his advantage that he had heard Hermione's words without listening to them. Alarm bells should have rung the instant she compared it to Riddle's diary. At the time, Albus had confided in him in the strictest confidence, revealing that he understood the unassuming book to be a horcrux.

Every incantation he knew for determining the curse led him to the same conclusion: this was a second horcrux. For years, Dumbledore had been adamant there were multiples. From vincible ignorance, Severus had brushed his concerns aside. The prospect of someone committing to not just one but numerous horcruxes was abhorrent. As a man captivated with the wonders and complexity of powerful magic, try as he might, he couldn't see beyond the perversity of horcruxes. Souls did not exist to be chopped up and grafted onto man-made goods.

It left an inescapable question. If there are two, how many more were out there?

His hands moved from his temples, long fingers sweeping over his eyelids, rubbing at the fragile skin there. Hermione can't know, his mind repeated over and over, a choreographed dance throbbing in time with a dull ache reverberating between his eyes. He had sworn to Albus that he wouldn't discuss horcruxes with anybody. Very few texts discourse the existence of such magic, its essence too iniquitous to be addressed in civilised circles. If the wrong ears learned of such a creation, the consequences had the potential to spiral.

He wanted to trust Hermione but knew it wasn't his place. Dumbledore bore the responsibility, and he would not betray his confidence. Not after Emmeline, he thought to himself.

A hollow rap on the wooden door of his classroom startled him, jerking him away from his musings. "Enter," He barked, praying whoever it was would leave him alone shortly.

His heart rate quickened as Hermione stepped inside, allowing the door to shut gently behind her. Excluding her lesson yesterday, they hadn't seen each other since she appeared at his home precisely one week ago.

"Sorry – I wasn't sure whether this would be a bad time." She swallowed, her tawny-hued eyes not meeting his own.

"Incidentally, this is the least tied-up I'll be all week." He answered with a tight smile, taking in her form.

"Oh good," She sighed, relaxing her posture. "I was walking past your classroom and saw the lights were still on. I was hoping you might have a spare five minutes if you were still here."

"You're here about the locket," he stated.

She nodded fervently. "What have you learnt about it?" She asked, walking spiritedly towards him.

"Forgive me, but very little." He lied, features carefully neutral.

"Oh," she exclaimed, taken aback. Her feet came to an abrupt stop. "Right." She blinked.

"It's clear the locket's cursed, but I'm unable to recognise the spell used." He continued apologetically, endeavouring to ignore the guilt writhing in his gut. You can't tell her, he reminded himself.

"It's just - you seemed so sure…" She replied in a small voice, chewing at the inside of her cheek.

"I was – normally, I have little trouble diagnosing curses." He said, standing up from behind his desk. "I underestimated this one. I'm sorry." Tentatively, he stepped towards her.

"It really must have got the better of you if you're apologising," she replied in an attempt at humour, but her tone fell flat.

"I didn't mean to disappoint you." He insisted, eyes flicking back and forth between her own.

"No, it's fine, really." Shaking her head, she briefly closed her eyes. "I've just been desperate to know what's special about it. I got carried away, and that's my fault." She shrugged, sounding dejected. "When can we take it to Dumbledore?"

He visibly winced. "Unfortunately, Hermione, I don't think you should come."

"Why?" She questioned, her brow furrowing.

"I don't know what this curse is, but Dumbledore might. If you're absent, he'll be more inclined to share his opinion." He reasoned.

Gritting her teeth, she looked off to the side, irritation marring her pretty features.

"You said it yourself last week. He wouldn't give you any answers if you went to him personally. That's why you asked me to help." He continued, reaching forward to hold her left hand in his right.

"And you'll tell me if he knows anything." She begged, eyes snapping to his.

"It goes without saying." He assured her, tugging her into an embrace. She released a shallow breath into the crook of his neck, planting a small kiss there.

"We shouldn't do this here," He spoke into her hair, breathing in the chamomile from her shampoo. "You should come to my rooms after dinner."

Taking a small step away from him, she released her grasp and nodded. "I'd have gone straight there but wasn't sure whether you'd be around."

"Understandable. We've both got our schedules for the term now; we can cross reference tonight. It worked nicely last year, knowing when you were visiting." He said, an almost undetectable smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah, it would be a bit tricky taking it day by day," she said, clicking her tongue. "I can't exactly run after you down the corridor." She laughed.

"Quite." He replied, his eyes crinkling. He fought the impulse to reach out and touch her again, and instead said goodbye to her.

As he watched her leave his classroom, curls bouncing behind her shoulders, a gentle warmth swelled in his chest. This summer's sole upside was the developing intimacy between them. If Hermione had spared a second glance back at him, she would have witnessed an honest smile adorn his features.


On the evening of Friday, 20th September, Hermione was patrolling the West Tower, walking shoulder to shoulder with Ron.

"These days, you must know this wing like the back of your hand," Hermione said, grinning at her fiery-haired friend.

Wearily, he flicked a glance down at her. "We both know our way around 'Mione. Our Transfiguration class is literally that door to the right," He pointed at a door no more than five metres away.

Hermione hummed in agreement, "Of course, but this must be your home away from home now. As Hogwarts' latest quidditch prodigy, the flying green next door can never be too close, surely?"

Ron chuckled. "Prodigy? "Well, I suppose it's been said before," he joked, tongue in cheek, "but I believe I owe my success to my adoring fans. You might argue that I wouldn't be where I am today without them."

"Adoring fans?" She laughed.

"Yeah, you know, the kind that turns up to all your games – the sort that gets in the competition's head for you." He said with mock sincerity, tapping his temple.

"Oh," she dragged out, eyes wide. "Those fans."

"Yeah, you wouldn't know any, would you?"

"No, funnily enough, I don't think I do." She said with an exaggerated frown. "I do know someone who, on unrelated matters, might have cast a Confundus charm on someone that may have been your opposition."

"And what unrelated matters would those be?"

"They were being a nasty, two-faced slug to her friends," She answered primly, straightening her shoulders. Just less than a week ago, she had sabotaged McLaggen after hearing him criticising Ginny and Ron at the quidditch tryouts.

"Two-faced slug?" Ron shuddered. "Thankfully, that time I hexed Malfoy didn't inspire you then. Mind you; I can't imagine you'd muck up a simple spell like that."

"You didn't muck it up," Hermione rolled her eyes, "your wand was just a little… broken at the time."

Ron scoffed. "I'd say – generally, they need a bit more than Sellotape to keep the core together."

Hermione laughed, thinking back to his skewwhiff wand from their second year. "At least it had character." She said with a straight face, glancing up at him. Ron snorted.

Soon after, companionable silence fell between the pair as they continued their rounds in the Bell Tower Wing.

"I keep thinking about Hannah." Hermione blurted, some moments later. Her voice was a whisper as they walked over the suspension bridge.

"About her mum?" Ron asked, coming to a stop next to her. The woman had been discovered dead in her home last week, and the school had sent Hannah home. The Order swiftly confirmed it was a Death Eater attack.

Turning to face him, she answered, "Maybe this is a selfish way to look upon it, but I just – I just can't help but draw comparisons. It could have so easily-" she paused momentarily, choking on the words. "It could have been my parents. It nearly was."

"It's okay to be scared 'Mione," Ron reassured her. "Worrying about your family isn't something you should feel guilty over."

Her eyes pressed tight, Hermione exhaled, wishing her anxiety would disappear with each breath she released. She was struggling to move past what she'd done to her parents in the name of protecting them. Naively, she'd hoped the sadness would've faded after nearly six months.


Late on Thursday, 26th September, Hermione was sat in Severus' rooms, her legs tucked under themselves on the brown leather of his sofa. Absentmindedly, she was flicking through The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 7, her mind barely cognizant of the words before her.

Severus was on the sofa opposite, marking a stack of parchment belonging to his third-year class. He had warned her earlier in the week that if she visited tonight, there was a good chance he'd make poor company. Naturally, she'd ignored that detail and focused on the invite to spend more time with him instead. Sat there in the quiet, her predictable boredom was now encouraging her mind to wander.

Biting at the skin on her left knuckle, she reflected on the locket she had presented to Severus almost six weeks prior. Something about this pendant was gnawing at her insides, her tummy twisting with the ceaseless contact, much like her own teeth nipping at her flesh now. It doesn't make sense, she thought to herself.

They'd only talked about the cursed item once since he'd given it to Dumbledore. It was she who had to bring it up in conversation. Despite her confessed longing to understand more, he hadn't considered relaying his exchange with the headmaster. Stifling a sigh, she leaned her head against the cold leather. Severus maintained that there was no update of any importance.

Supposedly, Dumbledore noted his piqued interest and immediately pocketed the item, not sharing his thoughts further with Severus. He reiterated that there had been a recent breakdown in trust and reasoned that this was why he was being secretive. Hermione believed that part; after all, he had expressed it six weeks ago in his home.

What she struggled to comprehend was Severus' lack of curiosity. If he truly had no idea, no starting place for what this curse could be, why wasn't he researching it? There had been no follow-up questions, rhetorical or otherwise. He had simply handed it over and moved on with his life.

It hadn't gone ignored that Harry had disappeared for the evening two days later. Ron had been with her, and Ginny was sat with the other fifth-year girls in the common room. Her gut told her there was a bigger picture here, one where she was being pushed out of frame.

"I don't know why you bother reading that book." He said to her, breaking the silence as he sipped his coffee.

Blinking in surprise, she looked between him and the text, "It's an important book to know, considering I'm being tested on it at the end of the year."

"I don't deny that. I am, however, arguing that you can already recite it cover to cover." He drawled, raising his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes, a half-smile playing on her lips. She swung her legs around to a normal sitting position and leaned forward to take her mug of tea.

"If you're bored and looking for something to read, you know you're welcome to my collection." He offered.

"No, I'm perfectly fine with this. Thank you, though." She said, finishing her sentence with a tight smile. His dark eyes stared back at her, an inscrutable expression on his face.

After a stretch, Hermione considered asking if everything was okay when he remarked, "Somethings on your mind."

"I think something is always on my mind these days." She replied with a hollow laugh.

"Nothing you wish to share?" He asked conversationally, standing to take his empty mug to his kitchenette.

She shook her head, although his back was to her. Following him, she spoke matter-of-factly, "It's nothing important."

"If you're certain." He answered nonchalantly. "Another drink?" He asked over his shoulder.

"Please. I think I'll head back after this one." She said, absentmindedly twirling a curl around her finger.

Severus glanced up at the clock on the wall. The time was only 8:45 pm. "I've nearly finished marking. I thought you might stay longer."

"You're welcome to convince me otherwise." She replied. When he turned to look at her, she smirked, looking up at him through her curled, mascaraed lashes. His eyes locked to hers, his gaze growing dark.

She approached him then, fingers reaching to brush the buttons on his frock coat collar. "Or I could try and convince you to leave your work alone for a moment or two," She spoke, her nails grazing his Adam's apple as she loosened the first button.

He placed his hands on her waist and slid them up her ribs, his thumbs resting less than an inch from her bust. "I wouldn't have invited you here had I known you'd be such a distraction, Granger." He murmured, staring at her lips.

"I don't believe you." She breathed, her right hand gripping the back of his neck as he leaned down to kiss her.


On Saturday, 26th October, Hermione was walking into Hogsmeade, flanked by Harry and Ron on either side. The trio bantered and laughed as they made their way to the Three Broomsticks. Hermione had got talking with Sirius after an Order meeting a couple of weeks back. After hearing how much he was missing Harry, she suggested the four of them get together for a butterbeer on their Hogsmeade weekend. Harry and Sirius loved the idea, both eager to catch up.

The bell above the door announced their entry into the inn, and it wasn't long before Sirius stood up from his table and waved them over. The four exchanged pleasantries; Sirius hugged Harry and merrily patted Ron and Hermione on the back. He took their drink orders, insisting on getting the first round in.

Once all four were seated around the wooden table Sirius had reserved, they began to recount everything noteworthy that had occurred over the previous two months. They told him about the Slug Club, including Ginny's invitation after hexing Zacharias, a story that delighted Sirius. Ron revealed he wasn't picked, and Sirius reassured him, explaining he and James weren't either. He grew wistful as he told Harry that his mother had passed muster and was a club member, affirming her brilliance was unquestionable.

The minutes passed quickly, and soon the four had been chatting for nearly two hours. It didn't go unnoticed when Ginny continued peeking over at their table, her friends poking and giggling with her when Harry smiled back.

When Sirius saw this for the third time, he patted Harry on the back and said, "Go to her son, don't waste your time talking to your boring, old godfather." Hermione bit her lower lip, trying not to laugh at Harry's flushing cheeks.

Less than 20 minutes later, something comparable happened between Lavender and Ron. Sirius and Hermione caught each other's gaze and fought to suppress a shared chuckle.

"You can go too, Ron. If you like." Hermione said, smiling at him as she looked between Lavender and Ron.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ron said, straightening his shoulders. He spoke in a squeaky voice, feigning ignorance.

"She's been asking after you recently," she said quietly so that only their table could hear. "Asking what subjects you took this year, if you've always been interested in quidditch, whether you're seeing anyone..." She trailed off, grinning.

"Really?" He inquired a little too eagerly. "I mean, it's cool. Whatever." He shrugged, coughing to clear his throat.

"Tell you what, mate, why don't you get yourself and her a drink," Sirius said as Hermione watched him slip Ron a couple of galleons. It's on me." He offered quietly, a gleam in his grey eyes.

Ron nodded, standing up stiffly, not looking unlike a deer caught in headlights. Trying not to be too obvious, she observed from the corner of her eye as he approached Lavender, stealing her away from Parvati.

"Thank you," she told Sirius. "I think he needed that push."

He chuckled. "It may be hard to imagine, but I was a teenage boy once. I remember all too well the struggle in approaching a pretty girl." He took a long sip of his lager, having long abandoned the butterbeer. "What about you, 'Mione? Is there any boy you want my help pursuing?"

Hermione released a throaty laugh, surprised by his question. "No, Sirius, that's fine; I appreciate your kind offer of assistance." She peered up at him, drinking her cider.

"The offer's on the table." He shrugged, the glitter in his storm cloud irises never disappearing.

The pair continued to talk to each other despite Harry and Ron having long left. Another hour flew by, and this time it was Hermione's turn to get the drinks in, feeling grateful that her birthday last month had legally marked her as an adult in the wizarding world. The two fell silent when she returned to their table with drinks in hand.

Before she could talk herself out of asking, she glanced up at him and murmured, "Has Harry..." She exhaled, her shoulders slumping as she thought about her following words. "Do you know if Harry has been meeting with Dumbledore?"

Sirius frowned, his brow pinching together as his head flinched backwards in surprise. "No, he's never said anything like that. Do you think he is?"

She attempted to explain while discreetly casting a Muffliato charm over their table. "I'm not sure, but something is going on. It's a long story, and I can only partially explain here. I recently acquired this... necklace. A locket. I understand it to be cursed, though I never found out more. Somebody passed it to Dumbledore, and then Harry vanished for the evening not two days later. He disappeared again last Friday, precisely six weeks after. Maybe it's a stretch, but I've got this feeling in the pit of my stomach there's more to this." She said with a shaky breath.

"What in Merlin's beard would a cursed locket have to do with Harry?" He queried, both perplexed and concerned.

"I haven't figured it out yet, but there's more. We spoke about the Slug Club earlier, and Harry has been growing closer to Professor Slughorn. He's feeding the 'chosen one' narrative that surrounds him." She insisted.

"That doesn't sound at all like Harry."

"Exactly," Hermione agreed. "I'm still trying to work it out and connect the dots as best I can. But this locket appears to have something to do with Slughorn's return to Hogwarts. He didn't approach Dumbledore; it was the other way around. Dumbledore wanted him here this year." She continued in a hushed voice, edging closer to Sirius.

"How do you know?" He whispered, leaning towards her in turn.

"I overheard Snape mention it to McGonagall." She lied. After all, she could hardly reveal Snape had told her directly.

"How do you know the locket was cursed? Did it harm you?" He asked worriedly, eyes skimming her person.

"No. I only had it for two weeks. It never hurt me, but I fell asleep next to it one night and could hear it whispering. As if it were sentient." She said fearfully. Pausing momentarily, she asked, "Has Harry ever told you about the Chamber of Secrets?"

Sirius shook his head, worry spreading across his countenance.

"I've got so much to tell you." She breathed in realisation, eyes wide.

"It's what, 3 pm now? Thereabouts." He said, looking down at his watch. "If we head back to Grimmauld now, we'll have plenty of time to speak in private before people arrive for tonight's Order meeting." He said, uncharacteristically serious.

"Yes, thank you." She exclaimed earnestly, relieved he hadn't dismissed her concerns.

The pair quickly finished their drinks and made to gather their coats and other belongings. They rushed towards the door to exit the inn. Stepping onto the cobbles outside, Hermione nearly collided headfirst into the black-clothed chest of a man in her haste, her feet stopping at the last second. She looked upwards, her eyes meeting Severus', who was looking back and forth between her and Sirius.

"Careful, Miss Granger," he said tersely, his eyes landing on hers again. "I'd hate to deduct points for your lack of spatial awareness."

Hermione stiffened, readying herself for Sirius' retort, knowing he couldn't resist temptation and keep his complaints to himself.

"Take a day off, Snivellus. It's a Saturday, for Merlin's sake." He said exasperatedly, rudely dismissing any authority Severus was laying claim to. "Or has that overgrown nose of yours been inhaling too many potions' fumes? Maybe you're too disorientated to comprehend the day of the week."

Severus' eyes widened as his lips thinned in unconcealed disgust for his former classmate.

"Are you drunk, Black?" He spat, glaring at Sirius. "Or perhaps you've become so far removed from ordinary society that you've abandoned the concept of rules. Miss Granger here, whilst a student at Hogwarts, must display respect for her professors." His eyes narrowed, their focus returning to her.

"I'm sorry, Professor Snape. For my clumsiness, and uh, my friend here." She swallowed, gesturing towards Sirius. Turning to look at him, she saw he was already disengaged from the conversation, impatiently kicking loose stones like a child. She shook her head in disbelief.

"It appears there's no accounting for your endlessly poor choice of friends, Granger." He said, lip curled in distaste. He stepped around her, continuing with his intention to enter the Three Broomsticks. Hermione stood still, staring at the space he had occupied.

"We need to go," Sirius said, refocusing her.

With a light hold on her upper coat sleeve, he dragged her away from the gawping faces surrounding them. They continued down Hogsmeade high street as Sirius grumbled about Severus, his criticisms only ceasing when they found a quiet side road. Once away from prying eyes, they apparated together to 12 Grimmauld Place.