'Tell me something,' Hermione sniffed, looking up from her roll of parchment. 'How is it that a man who, on top of running a school and a small army of Death Eaters, brews day and night — not that he needs to, I might add, but purely because he's being incredibly stubborn and refuses to let anyone help — and still manages to find time to leave lovely, detailed notes on my essays.'

Snape's head was bent low as he carefully added a slimy clump of Peruvian Salamander guts to the bubbling cauldron. The cauldron belched a thick, foul-smelling mist which made her sneeze and tilt her torso as far back as she could manage.

'I wouldn't have to leave lovely, detailed notes if you simply stuck to answering the damn question,' he muttered, oblivious to the mist that pebbled on his sleeves.

She wrinkled her nose. 'But I answered the question. You asked me to write about known charms and jinxes which use magical electricity.'

'For sixteen bloody inches. You're giving the Dark Lord a run for his galleons by torturing me with sleep deprivation,' he drawled. He uncorked another equally potent bottle of pickled earwigs and tipped it in with force, some of the potion splashing up onto his sleeves. Hermione reached for her wand where it lay next to her parchment, subtly cleaning his robes with a well-practiced twitch of her wrist.

'In my defence, I did intend to keep to the eight inches you asked for, but then I found this fascinating article on the Tempest Jinx. You must admit it was a good find — it's part charm and part transfiguration which can heavily impact weather patterns. It would be spectacular to try out,' she quipped. Snape grunted and began to vigorously mash dogwood leaves in a mortar, several pieces flying over the top and landing on her arithmancy report. She snatched the parchment away. 'Watch it! You nearly ruined my essay.'

'Granger, for the last time this is a workbench for potions.' He jerked the pestle towards the roaring fireplace. 'There is a perfectly good desk in the corner, go work there.'

Her eyebrows raised into her hairline as she daintily picked a few leaves off her paper. 'You're awfully broody today.'

His frown deepened. 'I am not broody.'

'Yes, you are,' she told him. 'You've got that face on. The scowly one. And I'm fairly certain those leaves are supposed to be mashed, not liquified.'

The clink of the stone pestle was unusually loud when he slammed it down on the wood worktop. Hermione worried her bottom lip in her teeth and instantly stilled, her back straightening where she was sat on the high stool. Any hint of amusement had vanished and instead, Professor Snape stood in front of her, his face stormy as though she had blown up a cauldron.

'When were going to tell me you threatened Amycus?'

Ah. That.

Hermione swallowed thickly, considering her answer. Her fingers interlinked in her lap, and she did her best to look contrite. 'When did you find out?'

His nostrils flared as he glared down at her, his arms folding into the depths of his robes. The motion made him appear a little taller and the effect made her leg muscles quiver in response. If they were in a classroom, she was sure she'd be sufficiently terrified.

'It does not matter when. Why didn't you tell me?' He asked sternly.

She cringed and dropped her gaze to her hands. Truthfully, the whole evening had been a blur of darkness. Snape aside, she had never held anyone at wand point before, and for the first time, she had felt the thrum of power in her veins — a sickly-sweet yearning to hurt Amycus the same way he had hurt Hagrid.

She wanted to resist. She wasn't that person. She couldn't be the type who wielded pain like one of them. That wasn't what magic was for.

'That's not us.'

Except that it was. Snape's voice had been replaced by something far more sinister as he hissed in her ear the whole way down the ladder.

Lying, filthy mudblood.

Well. She would show them. She had physically jammed her fingers into her ears as she passed under the vaulted ceiling that reminded her of the young, naive version of herself that once faced off against a three-headed dog. She might have been sheltered from the monstrosities of the wizarding world but at least she had been given a chance. Twelve-year-old Hermione with her overly bright eyes and wild curls had been allowed the opportunity to study and build a connection with the world she now fought to protect.

The same couldn't be said for the other Muggle-born first-years who had arrived on the Hogwarts Express with the same burning anticipation only to have their innocence violently ripped away from them before they had even mastered their first spells.

By the time she arrived in the marble room, her blood was thrumming in her veins. Hermione had always told herself that she wanted to learn about the Dark Arts as a means to an end. If they wanted to win the war then it was only natural that they understood what they were up against. But then her wand pressed against Amycus' chest and his eyes grew wide and she realised that wanted to hurt them. She wanted to see every last one of them burn for abusing the magic she loved so dearly.

Ron was wrong. If they could abuse magic to oppress others, then surely it wasn't beneath a filthy mudblood to do the same.

'Miss Granger.'

There was no warmth in his tone.

Hermione rolled her shoulders back, her gaze still fixed on her lap. 'They were going to harm a first-year, did they tell you that? A Muggle-born named Emma. She tried to protect Hagrid after Alecto attacked him.' She felt a sense of pride towards the girl. 'So yes, I threatened the Carrows.'

Without meeting his gaze, she picked up her wand again and vanished the mangled leaves, carefully plucking new ones out of the jar to grind them into a thick consistency.

Snape's hand fell on her wrist, stilling her movements.

'Granger, look at me.'

She felt her cheeks and neck flush, her skin warm in contrast to his cool fingers. She forced herself to look up and felt instantly caged in by the intensity of the air between them.

'I can never fault you for doing the right thing,' he said, his voice rumbling low in his chest in a way that made her involuntary shiver. 'I only ask that when you do decide to follow your Gryffindor sensibilities you tell me about it so that I can ensure we have adequate plans put in place, should we need them.'

He let go of her and she cleared her throat, pushing the mortar back across the bench with the tips of her fingers. She nodded once towards the cauldron. 'Your fumes are turning amber. You'd better add those.' Taking a deep breath to steady her fraying nerves she slumped forward on her stool and picked at the skin around her thumb while he crushed a cinnamon stick. 'Professor, there is something else.'

Snape sighed and put down the knife with less force this time. 'It's never straightforward with you, is it?' He asked dryly, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. With a shake of his head that she knew to be part-exhaustion, part-exasperation, he crossed the room to sit on the sofa. Hermione trailed after him meekly to perch on the arm.

Twisting the sleeves of her robes around in her fingers a nervous fluttering was beginning to build in her stomach. She knew it was the right thing to tell him everything, but she had come to appreciate this slightly softer version of Snape and loathed to let him go so quickly. Blowing out a breath she said in a rush, 'Well, it's only — some of the students have re-started Dumbledore's Army. The club where we—'

'Yes, I know what your blasted DA is,' he snapped. 'When.'

'A few weeks now. It was after the Carrows started enforcing stricter punishment.'

'I'm going to assume we have Mr Thomas to thank for this? He's been an unusually annoying thorn in my side this year, although his constant needling of Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb borders on amusement.'

She bit back a smile at his Muggle reference. 'Ginny and Neville played a large part too — don't look so surprised,' she retorted when his eyebrows raised. 'You forget he held his own at the Department of Mysteries. And the night we lost Dumbledore.'

Snape grunted and slumped back into the sofa cushions, flinging an arm ungracefully across his face. 'Christ, I swear it's as if you lot are trying to drive me into an early grave,' he grumbled from behind his sleeve. Hermione's stomach sank. 'You should have told me.'

'I know.' Tears blurred her eyes and she swallowed against the thick lump forming in her throat. He had barely raised his voice and yet she felt sufficiently chastised, like a child whose parents were disappointed in them. It was almost worse than if he had shouted; his rage rising to the surface like she had witnessed too often. 'Please don't be cross.'

When the tension between them felt too great he swiped his hair from his face and rested his arms across the back of the sofa. His outstretched fingers brushed her calf. She wiped her nose on her robes and the pain in her chest eased a little.

'It seems I couldn't be angry at you for long even if I tried,' he confessed, making her shift awkwardly on her perch.

'Oh. Well, that's—' Her breath caught as his fingers pressed more firmly against her leg.

'I fought with Dumbledore once,' he told her absently, both of their gazes now trained to the contrast of his pale fingers against her dark tights as they slowly trailed down her leg. 'He wanted us to teach the students more aggressive magic.'

'What's wrong with that? We should be able to defend ourselves.'

'Yes, of course you would agree with him… you with your stubborn notions, standing in my office and refusing to leave until I taught you to fight. You can be a right bloody nuisance when you put your mind to it.'

Her cheeks felt hot, and she chewed on her bottom lip, embarrassed.

'I claimed he was trying to train you all to be child soldiers,' he continued, his hand closing around her ankle. 'But I see now he was only trying to prepare you in the best way he could. I never thought I'd see the day when I agreed with Dumbledore.'

'Surely Dumbledore wasn't all that bad.'

'You still believe that after all this time?' Snape asked sharply, causing her to look up. His eyes were steely, and her stomach swooped. 'Dumbledore was a clever old man who knew how to manipulate and exploit others. He and the Dark Lord were my greatest mentors in that regard,' he added with a bitter twist of his mouth.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue with him but there was a lingering question that niggled at her like a dog nosing for scraps at the table. Before she could compartmentalise it and tuck it away neatly on a high shelf she blurted, 'You manipulated me into telling you Harry's secrets by promising to help my parents. But that was after.' Her brow furrowed and she shook her head. 'Why did you agree to teach me if you detested me so much?'

Snape's eyes darkened into something molten, his fingers tightening suddenly around her ankle until his grip was nearly painful and she realised that despite how thin and wraithlike he appeared he was strong enough to break her bones if she so wished. He gave her leg a little jerk and she found herself tumbling down onto the sofa, her skirt tangled around her thighs. Hermione's head felt dizzy with the sudden movement.

'Dumbledore had Potter,' he told her, his voice low and rich as he held her gaze. 'I knew if you were mine, it would even the score.'

Oh.

Heat flooded through her and the darkened room seemed to press in on them until it was just her and him: the apprentice and her master.

'Do you fault me for it?' He pressed. His thumb dug a line from her ankle joint up to her tibia and she shivered. 'You say you no longer desire playing the role of the pawn, but do you see how I have made you so? As long as you are working with me I will always use you to my advantage.'

He dropped her foot then and turned away, his cheeks tinged with pink. Hermione's heartbeat was heavy in her chest as the crackling fire filled the silence. She took in the shape of him: the way he dropped his head to his chest, his dark hair hanging forwards to shield his face from view. His hands rested clenched on his knees and she let out a shaky breath that left her lips dry. Tucking her legs under her she smoothed her skirt back into some resemblance of modesty, careful to leave a measure of space between them.

'This isn't about the Carrows, is it.'

She heard him let out his ragged breath. 'No.'

Her fingers picked at the hem on her skirt, piecing it together in her head. She knew early on that their relationship had been built on questionable foundations. There had always been an undercurrent of push and pull that fell in line with Snape's constant mood swings. But there had been a shift in the past few weeks since she had faced the end of Bella's wand, a tenderness that had settled into the cracks and dark spaces.

'What happened with Bellatrix wasn't your fault.'

'Isn't it?'

She winced at the acidity in his voice. 'It's not,' she tried to assure him, wanting to reach out and touch him but afraid he might lash out like a cornered animal. 'Even if I had gone with Harry and Ron there's no guarantee I would have been safer.'

'At least out there you would have been free from this,' he hissed, gesturing between them. 'Do you not understand? I gave you to her knowing full well that she could have killed you and there was nothing I could do to stop her!'

The intensity of his words struck her, and she placed a hand to her breastbone. Snape had been worried about her.

'It's nothing less than what I would have done for Harry —'

'Do not insult me by comparing me to that boy,' he snarled. 'I should be able to protect you.'

Something deep inside her broke. He still didn't get it.

Slowly she slid off the sofa onto the chilly floor to kneel at Snape's feet. He jerked back from her when she reached for the hands that were still tightly balled into fists and eased open his fingers to clasp them in her own. He scowled down at her darkly from the shadows of his hair, his mouth pulled into a sneer.

'What are you doing?' He protested.

Hermione peered up at him. 'Professor, I don't need you to protect me. All my life I have been mocked and belittled and pushed aside from trying to be too clever or too Muggle. I have been petrified, I've fought a troll and I've gone back in time to save a Hippogriff. I've fought against several dark wizards on multiple occasions. I can handle myself.'

'Like you handled Thorfinn Rowle in the Astronomy tower?'

She chewed on the inside of her lip, her curls falling around her shoulders when she shook her head. 'That was a mistake, and I'm bound to make more of them. I may be young but I'm not naive enough to know that there are limitations to my magic and there will always be wizards that are bigger and stronger than me.' His hands flexed under her own and she gripped them more firmly on reflex. 'But you were right— this is bigger than both of us and if dying in the process somehow aids Harry then it would be worth it.'

Snape's face softened the fire from behind her adding a soft glow to his features and reflecting in his dark eyes. He loosened one of his hands from her grip to reach down and brush her curls behind her ear and cupped her cheek. 'God damn Gryffindor sensibilities,' he murmured, and Hermione smiled faintly, leaning into his touch.

'You only have yourself to blame,' she chirped smugly. 'You should have never agreed to those lessons.'

He rolled his eyes. 'You could have avoided this mess entirely by asking Tonks.'

'And miss out on befriending the scary dungeon bat?'

'You flatter me,' Snape snorted and tugged on her hand. 'Now I beg you to cease the melodramatics and get off the floor.' She let him pull her back up onto the sofa where she settled into his side, his fingers brushing her shoulder as he laid an arm across the back of the sofa. It felt natural to rest against him, her thigh pressing into his and her head on his shoulder as though he were Ron or Harry.

'Is that what we are? Friends?' He asked.

She would never admit it aloud, but she didn't like the way the word sounded in the air, all light and carefree. Ginny Dean and Neville were her friends. Harry was… well, more like a brother and Ron somewhere beyond that. But her bond with Snape felt deeper than that. He began to stroke her arm lightly and as she inhaled his thick scent of ink and cinnamon, she felt a flush creeping up from her chest and across her collarbones.

'Something like that,' she remarked, her voice thick. Snape pulled his pocket watch out from inside his robes and she admired the tarnished silver filigree around the outside. 'It's very beautiful.'

'Hmm? Yes, I suppose it is.' He pressed down on the pendent and the case sprung open to display the slightly scratched glass. 'It was my grandfather's. I don't know how my mother managed to hide it for so long, my father would have sold it a heartbeat if he could. That potion will need stirring.'

Hermione's hand went to her sleeve only to remember that her wand was still on the workbench and groaned.

'You and that wand,' he tutted. 'You're doing nothing to ease my worries about your safety.' He made to get up, but she touched his knee lightly, leaving the warmth of his side to tap sharply on the stirring rod with her retrieved wand.

'Have you forgotten so quickly that I once managed to raise a protection shield, sans wand?'

'Doubtless I'd forget anything as spectacular as that anytime soon.' He turned to watch her, and her cheeks burned hot with his praise. 'So. This army of yours,' he pondered, one finger tracing his bottom lip. 'How many students have attended.'

'I don't know. Ginny hasn't mentioned it, and I haven't been.'

'Why not?'

'With what time? First I was down here brewing with you, and then I was cooped up in a hospital bed,' she pointed out incredulously. 'Are you positive you're not going senile?'

He raised an eyebrow that sent the butterflies in her stomach into a flurry. 'Watch it, Witchlet.'

Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling.

'I want you to join them. I need to know how many students and from what houses.'

'So much for keeping my head down.'

Snape smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes that made her knees quiver. 'Time to hide is over. We've been at war the moment you pointed your wand at Amycus Carrow.'

Hermione checked the tampered Galleon for the third time that afternoon before slipping it back into her pocket and reaching forward to tickle the giggling pear on the painting of a bowl of fruit. The heat of the roaring fires instantly chased away the late-December chill and she unbuckled her robes as she stepped into the kitchen. Several house-elves eyed her nervously and she raised her hands in a truce.

'It's alright, I haven't brought any clothes, I promise,' she told the weary figures. 'Unless of course, you want some clothes.'

'It is Harry Potter's friend, miss!' cried Dobby, appearing in front of her in a rainbow-striped anorak that dragged along the ground. 'It is good of miss to come and visit Dobby when Dobby is missing Harry Potter so.'

Hermione smiled warmly at the house-elf, her chest aching. 'I miss him too, Dobby. And Wheezy.'

Dobby's great green eyes shone with tears, and he blew his nose noisily into the sleeve of his anorak. 'There are bad Dark wizards at Hogwarts, miss. Very bad wizards. Dobby is worried about miss.'

She tenderly placed a hand on his shoulder. 'You needn't worry about me. I'm tough.'

'Miss is brave too,' he said, nodding his head vigorously. 'That's what Professor Snape tells Dobby.'

After Dobby had burst into the marble room the evening she had been tortured, logically Hermione knew that her Potions Master and the house-elf had some sort of connection. Even so, the idea seemed wildly improbable.

'Erm, that's sort of why I'm here. I have a small favour to ask.'

Dobby appeared on the brink of tears again. 'Anything for Harry Potter's friends.'

'I wasn't allowed to leave the castle for the Hogsmeade, so Ginny and Neville had to do my Christmas shopping for me, which isn't a problem except, well,' she realised she was babbling. 'There is one gift that I'd rather them not know about. A book.'

'If miss tells Dobby where to find the book, then Dobby can go tomorrow morning after breakfast.'

She pulled the coin purse and folded the parchment out of her pocket. 'Are you sure it wouldn't be too much trouble? I don't want to distract you from your work, it's only,' she bit her lip, 'this gift… it's for someone very important to me. I'd very much like to get him something.'

Dobby patted the pocket where he had safely tucked the parchment. 'Leave it with Dobby, miss. Dobby knows all about gifts for important people.'

Feeling a little giddy that her plan had worked, Hermione left the kitchens with a basket of warm biscuits and cauldron cakes. Managing to dodge a group of fourth-year Slytherins and a disgruntled-looking Mrs Norris, she found herself in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy at exactly twenty-three minutes past seven. There were footsteps at the end of the corridor, and she held her breath before the Patil twins came into view, arm in arm with Lavender.

'Hermione!' Shrieked Lavender. 'Neville told us you weren't coming.'

'Shh. Keep your voice down,' warned Padma.

'Oh, you fret too much,' Parvati told her sister. 'There's no one here.'

'And how do you know that for definite?' Challenged Padma, her hands on her hips. 'Have you suddenly been gifted with the ability to see through invisibility cloaks while we all slept?'

Hermione eyed the end of the corridor. 'We probably shouldn't congregate like this.'

They all stood back as Lavender walked up and down the hall, her eyes screwed shut in concentration. On her third pass, a door appeared, shoving the other bricks away with a quiet groan. Lavender looked especially pleased with herself. 'Come on then.'

They all hurried into the room. Instead of the tall windows and floating candles that had appeared the last time Hermione visited the Room of Requirements, the space was filled with small pillows and practice dummies.

'Oh, sugar quills,' frowned Lavender. 'Those pillows were supposed to be bigger.

'It's alright Lav,' said Neville from behind them. Hermione turned to see him, and Luna arrive with a group of young students. Neville stopped to survey the room before raising his wand. Moving it in a big sweeping arc, the pillows enlarged ten-fold and multiplied. Another swish and they had dispersed evenly throughout the room.

Hermione's eyes grew wide. 'Neville Longbottom! That was brilliant!'

Luna tugged on Neville's arm with a serene smile on her face. 'He's quite handy at charms work. Nearly better than Ginny if you ask me.'

Neville's ears turned pink, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. 'It's good to see you, Hermione. It will mean a lot to the others to have you here.'

'Yeah,' piped up one of the students, pushing her way through the group to get a better look. Hermione's heart swelled to see it was Emma. 'That's because you're bloody brilliant. You should have seen her; she nearly made the Carrows cry.'

One of the Hufflepuffs stared up at Hermione with eyes wide as saucers. 'Is it true you fought Mermaids?'

'What? Oh, no.' She frowned. 'I mean, I was taken down into the Great Lake by the Mermaids as part of a task during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but I was never in any danger.'

'Oh wow,' gasped another first-year boy. 'My brother told me all about the Tournament. He said Harry Potter rode a dragon. Is that true? Did he really do it?'

'Dragons are real?'

'Don't be stupid,' interjected a boy with a dirty smudge on the end of his nose that reminded her fondly of Ron. 'Of course, you can't ride dragons. That's impossible!'

'It's not actually. My brother Charlie has done it before. Mind you, it's not the safest route of travel,' Ginny told them. 'Go on, you lot, spread out and start working on your Knock-Back Jinxes, just like we practised last week. Leave poor Hermione alone otherwise, she might not come back next time.' The group began to grudgingly move towards the far corner. 'And I don't want to see any more foolishness from you, Devon. One more strike and you're out.'

Hermione peered around at the other students slowly filling in the room. Ginny stood with her arms crossed, a bright grin on her face that Hermione couldn't help but return. 'Gin this is…'

'I never thought we would get this many signing up. But every night we always get a few more.'

Tears prickled in the corners of Hermione's eyes. 'I wish Harry could see this. He'd be so pleased; you know that don't you.'

Ginny chewed on a fingernail before nodding. 'Yeah. He would. But I bet he'd also be jealous that I managed to get more numbers than him.' She snorted and gestured towards the room where Neville was instructing everyone into a circle. 'Let's get started.'

For the next hour, they set to work, Neville and Ginny checking everyone's shield charms before setting them off into groups to learn new spells. Ginny, Antony Goldstein and Michael Corner practised some advanced jinxes with the older kids while Neville and Luna worked with some of the younger years. To her surprise, Ernie McMillan and Dean had pulled a small group of first and second-years into a corner which Hermione soon realised were Muggle-borns.

'You're not the only ones forbidden from the core subjects,' Ernie told her quietly as they watched Dean teaching a young boy how to cast a Levitation Charm. 'The Muggle-borns never even stood a chance. They've got no one to show them how to cast a simple spell.'

Hermione was struck with emotion. 'And you volunteered to teach them? But you're Head Boy. If Professor Snape or the others found out…'

Ernie gave her a sad smile. 'I just keep thinking about Justin and those Dementors, you know? He could have just sworn allegiance like the rest of us, but he stood up for what he believed in right until the end.'

She swallowed against the burning in her throat. Truthfully, she had been so wrapped up with Bellatrix Lestrange and the Dark Lord's potion and everything else that had occurred over the last few months that she hadn't had a moment to properly stop and consider the impact the war was having on those around her. Yes, she had read the headlines in the Daily Prophet in horror alongside everyone else, but she hadn't thought about what those deaths meant to their loved ones. So hung up on her borderline-obsessive relationship with Snape she hadn't thought about Mathew Darcey or Rebecca Moon. She certainly hadn't thought about the fate of Justin Finch-Fletchley.

'We'll get him out.'

But Ernie just shook his head. 'I know you mean well but grown Wizards don't survive Azkaban unscathed. I'd rather do something productive in his honour like teaching these kids how to hold a wand than pretend he'll be the same Justin. If we ever manage to win this war.'

Shame washed over Hermione then as she slumped against a wall and watched the students practice their spells. Hell-bent on supporting Snape she had inadvertently shoved her head so far in the sand she had lost sight of what they were fighting for to begin with. Why Harry and Ron were out there, to begin with? Yes, she could allow herself to be angry. Yes, she could start a war with Carrows or the Dark Lord but it wasn't just about her.

There were fifty-seven students crammed into the Room of the Requirements. Some, like Ernie, want justice for their friends and family. Others like Emma itching for the opportunity to develop their magic like the Muggle-borns before them had been promised.

Kneeling at Snape's feet she had only half-believed that the war was worth all the pain and misery. If she were to be honest with herself, there was a part of her that said it because she knew it was what he wanted to hear. She wanted to be big and bold like him, to be a force of nature to be reckoned with and to prove herself to be an admirable partner for the fight ahead. But standing in a room filled with fifty-seven other voices who were shouting to be heard gave her the realisation that there was a world bigger than her or Harry, or Snape.

Voldemort be damned, they could burn the world down together if they all tried.

'It's something, isn't it?' Dean asked her quietly as they trudged back to the Common Room after.

'I hate to say it, but you've achieved far more than Harry ever did,' Hermione admitted to him.

Dean let out a hoarse laugh. 'Yeah, well, I dunno about that. I'm sure if he were here right now he'd probably have half the castle fighting under him.'

'Maybe,' she agreed. 'Or maybe You-Know-Who would have everyone turned against him again.'

'I doubt it. We've been oppressed for too long now. With or without Harry something's gotta give, I can feel it in my bones.'

'I suspect that's your magic,' she said with a laugh. They reached the top of the stairs and Dean watched the backs of Seamus and Lavender for a moment before grabbing Hermione's wrist and tugging her into an empty classroom.

'What on earth—'

He pressed his finger against his lips and listened at the door. 'Hold up,' he whispered. 'Ghosts. Or other students. I can't tell.'

'Slytherins? Because if it is, then should we warn the others?'

He tapped the door handle with his wand before backing away from it, his hands in his pockets as he perched on the edge of a desk. 'No, not like that. I wanted to talk to you. Alone.'

Well, this certainly wasn't the conversation she was expecting to have with Dean Thomas, of all people. 'Dean…'

He smiled. 'Relax, Granger. It's not like that. No offence or anything.' When Hermione folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow he chuckled. 'Has anyone ever said you look like Snape when you do that? It's freaky.'

'Once or twice,' she muttered. 'Are you going to tell me what this is about?'

All the humour drained from his face as he chewed on his bottom lip. 'I'm leaving,' he said after a long moment.

Her head jerked back as if he'd tossed a bucket of cold water over her. 'You're what?' Her mouth opened twice before she shook her head furiously. 'You can't be serious.'

'I am. Dead serious. I've been thinking about it a lot actually.' He pulled out his wand and began to flip it over in his hands, his long fingers brushing against the soft birchwood. 'I thought I was doing the right thing by coming here, you know? I still had the trace on me and I thought maybe by coming back I could learn better magic to protect my family. But then all the reports started coming out about Muggles and Muggle-borns going missing and I realised that maybe I made a mistake. Because if I'm in here, and my family is out there… they don't stand a chance, do they?'

The recollection of standing on the backstep after wiping her parents memories hit her in the gut and she placed a hand on her abdomen to staunch the invisible wound. If it hadn't been for Snape, would she have found a way to protect them, or would she have banished herself from the Wizarding world in an attempt to save them?

'You can't just leave. Dementors surround the castle. They'd take you straight to Azkaban if the Death Eaters don't catch you first,' she protested.

Dean tapped his wand against his temple. 'Ah, but what if there was another way out?' Hermione thought of all the secret entrances marked on Harry's map. 'What if there was, I don't know, some room that could somehow grant wishes?'

A queasy feeling came over her. The last time someone tried to use the Room of Requirements as a gate to the outside world it had ended in Death Eaters storming the castle. 'No. I mean, it hypothetically could work, but it's not safe. Where would you even go? The moment you leave here you know they're only going to go after your family.'

He nodded in agreement. 'I'd have to take them with me. My mum'll be furious when I tell her my sisters need to leave school but she'd understand.'

Hermione pressed her fingers into the corners of her eyes and took a deep breath to settle her nausea. It felt reckless to let him try and escape but all the same, she couldn't stop him. 'Why are you telling me this?'

'Mate. You were tortured by Bellatrix Black,' he pointed out. 'I might not be pureblood but even I know how crazy that bitch is. I know you won't tell anyone. Besides, I erm… I thought you could come with me. We could hide our families away together and then go find Harry.'

Go find Harry. God, what she wouldn't give to see her best friend. There was a brief second where she could almost imagine herself slipping out with Dean through the Shrieking Shack and reuniting with Harry and Ron somewhere in the Scottish Highlands. But then cold reality doused her. Even if they managed to escape, they had no way of contacting him. She had no way of knowing where Harry was and even if they did he might not want to see her again after their last conversation.

'Dean, I can't. I'm sorry.'

Dean pocketed his wand again before rubbing at the back of his neck. 'Yeah, I know. I didn't think you would, but it was worth a shot.'

The thought of another friend leaving her bothered her more than it should. For the second time that evening, tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. 'When are you going?'

'Tomorrow. I figured there'd be so much commotion with the trains leaving for Christmas break I could slip out,' he explained.

She crossed the small distance between them and flung her arms around his neck.

'Easy there, Granger,' he squeaked.

'Please be safe,' she pleaded, squeezing him tightly.

Dean's arms locked around her waist and Hermione thought that through all the false bravado she could feel him trembling. 'You too. And Hermione? I'm glad you came tonight. You might not believe it, but those Muggle-borns look up to you. If you're staying, you gotta promise me you won't let them down.'

She sniffed and pressed her cheek into his shoulder. 'Promise.'

Author's Note:

This is the first time I've posted something I'm not 100% in love with, BUT I wrote it, and it's here. And if you find some weird prose or spelling errors, no you didn't . We'll just go back and fix those later!

Anywhoo, thank you to everyone who left kind words of support! I'm still here, still limping along. I don't want to make any promises but I do finish my last university assignment at the end of the month so maybe, hopefully I should have more time for writing in the near-ish future. Thank you all for continuine to stick around and support, every comment and read motivates my silly author brain to push this thing up the hill. We will get there!

Playlist:
The Kids are Ready to Die, Airborne Toxic Event