A/N: Sorry for the delay again. Got busy with work, and suffered a bout of writer's block. And after meticulously re-checking this chapter, I have now discovered just how incompetent Microsoft Word's grammar check really is. Ha ha.

I want to thank my reviewers! Over 1,000 reviews! I seriously can't believe it. You all are awesome.

Bound to Him

Chapter 35

Gathering her thoughts, Hermione sucked in a deep breath before softly knocking on Snape's office door. When no call met her in response, she attempted to turn the knob. The door swung open, revealing the man sitting perfectly still in his chair. His dark hair and robes were still visibly damp as he stared blankly at the wall.

The girl quietly closed the door behind her and stepped over to his desk. A part of her had wanted to storm down to the dungeons to angrily confront him, but upon remembering the pain and guilt that had been reflected in his eyes, she knew she could not do that to him. The man had cared for her – and cared about her, as she now knew – so the least she could do was approach him civilly. And now as she stared at him, undoubtedly lost in his own tortuous thoughts again, she was even more concerned about how she should treat their conversation.

"Professor?"

When he did not answer right away, she dropped his teaching robes onto the wooden chair and glanced at the top of his desk. It did not seem right to rudely bring him back to reality as she had done the last time. Spotting her wand lying next to Ron's and Harry's, she calmly reached for it and whispered a drying spell.

Feeling the magic wash over him, Severus raised his eyes to hers. He lifted his brow in surprise and wiped his face. "Are you alright, Miss Granger?"

"Yes," she nodded with a small smile, leaning against his desk. "I wanted to thank you for saving me. I know it wasn't actually something you had to do."

His eyes narrowed as she handed him the folded sheet of parchment. "What's this?"

"You should know, Professor," she intoned lightly. "You wrote it."

Snape scowled and dropped the paper onto his desk without bothering to look at it. "He should never have shown you that."

"Why?" she asked. "Why wasn't I to know that I'm not responsible for your life?"

The man looked at her for a second, then dropped his gaze and said nothing.

Sighing, Hermione stepped around the corner of the desk and perched on the edge directly in front of him. Cautiously, she brushed the hair from his face. "I know why you lied, Professor. Professor Dumbledore seemed to think I couldn't figure it out on my own, but I do know why."

"Please don't, Miss Granger," he said, batting her hand away and pushing out his chair.

Her eyes followed him as he crossed the room. "You did it to protect me. I know as well as you do – there were several days where the only thing keeping me alive was the knowledge that if I died, so did you. I couldn't bear the thought of taking someone else's life along with my own. I probably would have done it if it hadn't been for you."

His shoulders slumped as he stared at the wall. "The fact that your death would not have immediately resulted in my own doesn't mean my life would not have been forfeit when the Dark Lord heard of your demise."

"Right, because that silver tongue of yours couldn't possibly have saved you again," she muttered as she stood. When he spun to face her with an odd stare, she crossed her arms. "I don't disagree he would have been disappointed in you, Professor, but I highly doubt he would have killed you. His initial plan may have failed, but my death so soon after Sirius's – and by my own hand, no less – would've shaken Harry greatly, which would have been a desirable outcome on its own.

"Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange blundered worse than that, and they are both unfortunately still breathing. Merlin, he even manipulated his puppets at the Ministry to keep Malfoy out of Azkaban."

"Perhaps," Snape shifted his gaze to the floor. "Though Lucius has lost something much more valuable than his own freedom."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What does that mean?"

The wizard shook his head and sat against the edge of a table. When he said nothing further, she sighed. "Look, I can't say that I'm terribly angry with you for not telling me, because I understand why you didn't. What does bother me, however, is the impression I have that you weren't ever going to tell me. You would have let me go on believing that your life was as much bound to mine as mine is to yours, wouldn't you?"

"Contrary to your beliefs, Granger," he answered quietly, "you do not need to know everything."

"But this!" She jabbed her finger into the surface of his desk. "This is something I need to know!"

"Why?" he narrowed his eyes. "How could knowing this possibly change anything for you?"

"Because then I wouldn't have to live with the fear that I could get you killed over my mistakes! When I was in the lake, I was so angry with myself because I thought you were going to die because I stupidly got between Harry and Draco! It's bad enough I have to worry about ruining everything in front of You-Know-Who. I'd like to not have to be afraid you're suddenly going to drop dead because Cormac decides to accost me in the hallway!"

His eyes snapped to her face. "Has McLaggen attempted something further?"

"Not really, no," she shrugged. "But since Ron got his Prefect duties reinstated, I've made sure to keep him with me during rounds to discourage any possible attempts. Cormac certainly hasn't lost interest yet, though."

Snape blew out a long breath and rubbed his forehead. "Granger, you should be no less worried about getting yourself killed than you have been about me. My life is of no greater importance than yours."

"Yes, it is!" she pleaded. "You are so much more valuable to the Order than I am. My death wouldn't cost us the war – yours would!"

Scowling, he silently cursed anyone he could. The Dark Lord for creating the entire mess; Dumbledore for making everything about winning the war; himself for ever being desperate enough to seek out the Death Eaters; and Hermione for not recognizing her own self-worth.

"But that isn't my point, Professor!" Hermione re-crossed her arms, continuing before he even had a chance to counter her argument. "My point is… well, the point is I would appreciate it if you were honest with me from here out. I think… I think I've earned that much at least. Please."

The man closed his eyes and turned his head to face away from her. After a few uncomfortable moments, he slowly nodded his head.

"Thank –"

"Before you waste your breath thanking me, there is something …" He grimaced and nervously gripped the edge of the table he was leaning against. "In the interest of honesty, I must confess…"

The young witch frowned at his inability to form his idea in words. Confess what?

He sighed and stared at the floor. "Regarding the death of your parents –"

Confess? My parents? Hermione felt her hands beginning to shake as the blood drained from her face. No, no, no!

"—I was responsible for the memory the Dark Lord –"

"No!" she hissed, cutting off his words. "Don't you dare say it!"

"Miss Granger –"

"No! Please d-don't tell me it was you," she whimpered, struggling to remain on her feet.

"Miss Granger –"

"It can't be you! It wasn't you!" She anxiously placed both hands on the top of her head. "Tell me it wasn't you!"

Severus closed his eyes as she screeched at him. "Hermione, you need to listen to me."

The girl nearly hyperventilated as the images of her parents dying flashed before her eyes. At his unusually calm and demanding tone, however, she abruptly silenced her protests and stared at him angrily.

"I did not kill your parents," he emphasized, opening his eyes to meet her gaze.

"B-but you just said –"

He held up a hand to interrupt her. "What I said was that I was responsible for the memory of their deaths. I only showed the Dark Lord what he wanted to see. I did not kill them."

Her eyes widened as her knees began to buckle. "So, you're saying…"

"Hermione, your parents are alive."

Lips parted in shock, she shakily collapsed into his desk chair, certain she had not heard him correctly. "What?"

"Your parents are not dead," he clarified. "I apologize for making you think otherwise."

Hermione ran a hand through her hair as she kept her eyes locked onto his form. She was afraid to even blink for the fear of it all being a dream. She wanted to believe him – desperately wanted to believe him with all of her heart – but she had to know for sure. She needed certainty. She needed proof.

"How do I know you aren't… you aren't lying to me?"

Snape winced slightly, though he had expected the question. "Think about the memory, Granger. Does nothing strike you as odd?"

"What?"

"Think, Granger," he reiterated calmly.

She let out an exasperated breath but closed her eyes and let the images play out several times. The cat running past and out the door, her mother rushing into the kitchen, her mother writhing on the floor, her father coming to her aid, and then the flash of green and her parents lying lifeless upon the floor….The cat running past and –

Snape let out a relieved sigh when her eyes flared open in clarity.

"Crookshanks!" she exclaimed, standing. "Crooks would never have run from danger. He would've tried to protect them. He would've stayed to fight!"

"Like a demon from hell," Severus muttered beneath his breath, unconsciously rubbing the back of his hand.

Hermione took a hesitant step forward. "My parents really are alive? It was all a lie? You lied to me?"

His eyelids fluttered shut as he nodded in shame. He heard her quickly cross the distance between them and prepared himself for the blow he knew was coming. His eyes flew open in surprise, however, at the sudden impact against his chest.

The girl clasped her arms around him as tight as she could and buried her face against his neck. She did not speak, for a thousand repetitions of 'thank you' would never be enough to express her gratitude.

Snape's eyebrows pulled together in disbelief as her errant curls tickled his chin. He had expected full out rage – another head-spinning slap, at the least. He had betrayed her. He had forced her to grieve unnecessarily for months, caused her immeasurable pain and suffering, and yet she was embracing him. He did not understand it at all.

"I knew you didn't do it," she whispered, turning her head so her cheek rested against his shoulder. Tears of relief began to trickle down her face. "I knew it."

"I am so sorry –"

"No," she shook her head. "Please don't, Professor. You kept them safe so I didn't have to."

Severus glanced at the ceiling in discomfort. "I burnt your house down."

Hermione squeezed him harder and laughed into his chest. "I don't care. As long as they're safe, that's all that matters."

"They are," he confirmed. Tentatively, he moved one hand from the table and rested it gently on the back of her head. When she made no effort to pull away, he relaxed somewhat and placed his other arm across her shoulders. "They are currently residing in a location known only to myself. I apologize I cannot take you to see them, but there are too many curious eyes about."

She nodded against him and sniffled. She could handle not seeing them – it was enough to know they were alive. Letting out a deep breath, she allowed her thoughts to wander back to the memories Dumbledore had shown her. "That's why you had to let Bellatrix hurt you, isn't it?"

The wizard winced and looked towards the wall. He had never meant for her to find out about that, and migraine or not, he never would have spoken of it had he known she was within earshot. Nor would he have opted to use the Dark Lord's crude turn of phrase regarding their arrangement.

"The Dark Lord had offered your parents to her as a reward if she were to complete a particular task. When she was given permission to … collect her reward and found your house already in ruin," he stated slowly. "She was a bit out-of-sorts, as you can well imagine."

The girl shuddered against him. "That psychotic bitch was bad enough in sorts."

Snape snorted but tightened his hold on her as he remembered her screaming under the attentions of Bellatrix's wand. He frowned and acknowledged the desire to put an end to the sadistic wench if she were ever to lay so much as a finger on the girl in the future.

"I'm sorry you had to do that, sir," she whispered a minute later. "And I'm really sorry about cracking your ribs."

His eyebrows narrowed suddenly, and his mouth opened in surprise. She could have known about Bellatrix from her own recollection, but there was no possible way she could have known about that particular injury. Hermione had been in such a frenzied state during the encounter that he doubted she was aware of anything outside of her own panic and pain, and afterwards he had claimed to be entirely uninjured.

"Which of the intrusive antiques told you?" he asked bitterly, though he was fairly certain of the answer. Minerva was nothing if not fiercely loyal to her friends, and he trusted her perhaps even further than he did Albus. Plus, the Gryffindor Head would have first attempted guilting him into telling the girl himself before she stooped to taking things into her own hands.

"Professor Dumbledore showed me."

"Of course he did," he grumbled, slowly balling his hands into fists. "How much else did he show you?"

"Enough for me to understand but undoubtedly more than you would like."

Feeling him stiffen in discomfort, Hermione lifted her head far enough from his chest that she could look him in the eyes. "You showed the Dark Lord a false memory."

He glanced at her in confusion, startled momentarily by the change in subject. Forgetting his irritation with the Headmaster for the time being, he swallowed slowly and nodded once.

"Can you teach me how to do that?"

The man took in a deep breath but eventually dipped his head in assent. She smiled at him in return and was about to rest her head back on his shoulder when the fireplace flashed green. He immediately pushed her away and rose into an intimidating stance, while she tried to wipe the evidence of her tears from her face.

"Lupin," Snape snarled as the disheveled man stepped out from the fireplace.

Remus raised his head and glanced in surprise between the two of them. "Hermione, I must say I didn't expect to find you here."

She bit her lip and wrapped her arms around her waist. "I, erm, came down to thank Professor Snape for saving me."

"Yes, I heard that was quite the feat," he grinned, giving a wink towards Severus, who rolled his eyes and glared at the wall. "Are you feeling quite well?"

"Yes," she nodded emphatically with a smile. "Amazingly well now. Thank you, Professor."

Snape cleared his throat. "If you wish to chat with her, Lupin, do so in your own office. Otherwise, Miss Granger, you have your wand back, and you know where the door is."

Hermione nodded and started for the exit. "Good evening, Professors… and thank you again, Professor Snape."

Remus watched the other man grumpily wave her away and waited until the door had closed behind her. "Speaking of wands, I see you still have Harry's and Ronald Weasley's."

"I gave those two dunderheads explicit instructions that Minerva is the only one who shall retrieve their wands for them," he responded. "If you assume I would mistake you for her, I will gladly inform the deputy headmistress of your slight to her physical appearance."

The werewolf chuckled and shook his head. "I mean no interference, Severus."

"Yet here you stand," the Slytherin muttered. "What do you want?"

Lupin held up his hands. "You were absent from supper. I only meant to check you weren't suffering hypothermia."

"Oh, but I'm willing to bet Potter and Weasley were absent as well from the meal," Snape stated, crossing over to his desk, "And you really came to check that they were not suffering ill fates at my hands."

"I may have considered it," he conceded, "if it weren't for the fact I personally witnessed Minerva dragging them both away from the Great Hall by their ears."

A small smirk graced his lips as Severus stealthily slipped the parchment regarding the binding process into his drawer. "As you can see, I am fine. Perfectly capable of brewing for you."

Remus ignored the last comment and glanced at the door. "I also wanted to thank you for rescuing Miss Granger as it were. I thought it highly –"

"Unexpected?" he spat with a glare.

The Defense instructor sighed. "I was going to say courageous, and that you should be commended for it."

"She is a student under my care," Snape explained, organizing the pile of essays on his desk. "I was merely following obligations. Or am I to assume you would not have done the same if the roles had been reversed, and Mr. Malfoy had found himself sinking to the bottom of the Black Lake?"

Remus narrowed his eyes. "Is it really that difficult for you to accept a compliment?"

"Is there a particular reason you are so interested in Miss Granger's welfare, Lupin?" the Potions Master asked without raising his eyes from his paper shuffling.

"I have concern for all of my students," he answered, folding his arms. "Hermione has had a more difficult year than some of the others, and as a result, I feel she should receive more of our attention."

Severus raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"Plus, I do admit she reminds me a little of myself at that age," Lupin added with a reminiscent expression.

"She does not appear to be suffering from lycanthropy," the dark-haired man said with a tone of indifference. "She does appear, however, to possess the fortitude to correct her friends' aberrant behavior instead of simply following along like a lost puppy."

The other wizard noticeably winced and dropped his gaze to the floor. "We all made mistakes when we were young, Severus."

"Indeed," he responded tightly. Some far worse than others.

As the fireplace flared to life again, Snape let out a loud sigh. "Did someone neglect to inform me my office was converted into hallway?"

Minerva rolled her eyes. "If you were that opposed to having visitors, Severus, you would disable your Floo."

"I have tried," he muttered disdainfully. "However, the Headmaster and the castle have seen fit to foil all of my attempts."

"Oh, you poor child," she cooed maliciously before glancing at the other man in the room. "Remus, how are you?"

The man opened his mouth to answer but found himself cut off.

"He's absolutely peachy, Minerva," Snape responded, snatching up the two students' wands and handing them to her. "If there's anything else you need from him, he'll be happy to discuss it with you as he escorts you back to your office."

McGonagall snorted, pocketing the wands and offering a farewell to Lupin as he took his leave. She then transfigured the rickety wooden chair into a maroon armchair and flopped into it.

"Well, you'll be pleased to know I had to sack my prefect," she sighed, straightening her skirts.

Severus grunted as he took his own seat. "I told you it was only a matter of time. I never understood why you ever considered that Weasley as prefect material."

"And you believe Draco Malfoy to be?" Minerva raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"You forget, woman, that I am not as free to run my House as you are yours," he answered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

She tensed her lips into a thin line and stared at the corner of his desk. "Well, anyway, I'm now faced with the daunting task of choosing a replacement."

"A sixth year male prefect, eh?" he sneered, crossing his arms. "Who's left, now that Weasley's proven yet again to be an eternal disappointment? Longbottom… Finnigan… Thomas… Potter? You are right, Minerva – your candidate pool is rather pathetic, isn't it?"

"Though they may not be the cream of the academic crop, Severus," she admitted with a haughty grin, "you'll note, however, that not a single one of those boys even considered a position on the Inquisitorial Squad… which is more than I can say for two-thirds of Slytherin House."

"Don't you have wands to distribute?" Snape asked pointedly.

The Deputy Headmistress waved her hand dismissively at the fireplace. "Oh, let them stew a bit longer. I think it might do them a spot of good."

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

Hermione sat curled up in a chair in the Gryffindor Common Room, staring absently at the parchment in front of her. It was supposed to be her Charms essay due the next morning, but so far she had only managed to scratch out a few sentences. Instead of focusing on the similarities among and differences between the Avis charm and the Papilio charm – which conjured several different species of butterflies – her mind was continuously drifting towards her parents. Though she stood by her declaration to Snape that she was alright with not seeing them, she could not help but wonder where they were and what they were doing. She wondered how much they knew about what had happened to her, or if they even knew she was alive.

No, they know that, she corrected herself, glancing down at the ring on her right hand. Reflections of the fire danced in each facet of the sapphire and the smaller diamonds, and she found herself smiling as she stared at them. The first thing she had done after returning to Gryffindor Tower had been to tear up to her room and yank out the drawer of her bedside table. She had immediately snatched at the ring box and had carefully slid the piece of jewelry onto her quivering finger. Her parents were alive, and this ring was the most recent connection to them she had in her possession.

Her quiet musings were soon interrupted by the opening of the Fat Lady's Portrait and the loud grumblings of her two best friends.

"I can't believe she's replacing me!" Ron groaned, holding his head. "Hermione's gonna kill me!"

Harry was about to respond when he noticed the girl watching them. "Hermione!"

The redhead looked up, and both boys quickly scampered toward her. Ron pulled her into a giant hug as soon as she rose from her chair.

"Are you alright?" he asked worriedly, squeezing her against his chest.

The witch winced, trying to pull away. After a few seconds, she managed to extract herself from his grasp. "I'm fine, Ron."

"You sure?" He looked her up and down as if she might have obvious wounds. "I was – I mean, we were so scared. You weren't breathing!"

"I'm fine, Ron," she reiterated. "Honestly, I'm alright. Madam Pomfrey put me back to rights after Professor Snape saved me."

She cast Harry a pointed look and added a mental 'again.' The boy seemed to get the message for he quickly looked down at his shoes.

"I'm really sorry, Hermione," he mumbled, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have done that – I should have listened to you. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Obviously you weren't, Harry," she said forcefully, before turning back to the other boy. "Now, who's replacing you?"

Ron sighed and scratched his head. "McGon – Professor McGonagall. Since I've already been suspended as a prefect once this year, she said this was the last straw. Took my badge and everything."

Hermione let out a long sigh and rubbed her face. "And what about you, Harry?"

"She's suspending me as Captain for a month," he answered glumly.

"But not until after Saturday's match!" Ron piped up. "So that's something, right? And we don't play another until next term, so really it's not the big of a deal, mate. Katie only gets to run practices."

"I guess that's true," Harry agreed with a shrug.

The girl smiled at her friends but sighed inwardly. She wondered if Snape knew McGonagall had purposely lifted Harry's punishment until after the match against Slytherin. If he did, she rather doubted he would be very pleased with the decision.

"Is that everything, then?" she asked. "I am sorry you both got in trouble."

"It's not your fault," Harry replied. "You tried to stop us, and we nearly got you killed. I think we deserved to lose more than a hundred points."

"A hundred?" she grimaced.

Ron nodded enthusiastically and plopped onto one of the couches. "Yeah, but Slytherin got it worse. Snape actually took a hundred and fifty from his own house! Never thought I'd see that."

Hermione felt a smile creeping onto her face and immediately bit down on her lip to stop it. When that failed to stop her good mood, she cleared her throat and gathered up her supplies. "I think I'm going to go to bed early. I really am exhausted."

Both boys nodded in understanding and wished her a good night. She had just stepped onto the staircase into the girls' dormitory when she heard Ron give a loud sigh.

"You know, Harry – I never thought I'd ever be grateful for anything the Greasy Git did, but you have no idea how happy I am he was there."

The girl leaned against the wall of the stairwell and let out a long breath. She was going to have to do something… and soon.

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

"Perhaps he would be less likely to bother you if he had some sort of… distraction."

Hermione scrunched her nose as she contemplated the suggestion during breakfast in the Great Hall.

Distraction… some sort of distraction… She glanced about the Gryffindor table, ignoring the Quidditch strategies being discussed around her. Where am I going to find a bloody distraction?

She had just turned her back to her plate when a familiar high-pitched batch of giggles caught her attention.

Wait a moment. Hermione surreptitiously watched Lavender Brown laughing at something one of the seventh year boys said. If she remembered correctly, her former roommate used to have a crush on the youngest Weasley boy. In fact, that was part of the reason she and Lavender had never become good friends. The blonde girl had always been out-of-sorts since Hermione started spending so much time with Ron and Harry, and the two girls had not really worked things out since.

But could it work? Hermione pushed a chunk of sausage around her plate, sopping up the extra gravy. Popping the delicious bite into her mouth, she considered the possibility. Lavender was not the most intelligent biscuit in the tin, but she was pretty with her curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes. It seemed God had granted her with a larger chest than Hermione, and the girl knew how to purposely hold a guy's attention.

She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes at Ron, who was oblivious to the scrutiny he was under. She was fairly certain the redhead occasionally sneaked glances at Lavender in class and the Common Room. Taking another bite of food, she decided it was worth a try.

The only problem now was setting the plan in motion. Hermione Granger was not the sort of girl who thought about playing matchmaker. She never really noticed when boys paid attention to her until they were painfully obvious about it. There was no way she could manipulate the situation from Ron's end – that was likely to blow up in her face.

So, that leaves me with Lavender. The young witch smiled as she finished her breakfast. If there was one thing she knew about Lavender Brown, it was that the girl was more competitive than the Quidditch World Cup.

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

By Thursday evening, Hermione was practically vibrating out of her skin. Snape had instructed her to meet him in his office for their scheduled appointment. If they were working on apparition, they always met outside of his quarters; with defense, they met in the classroom; but the office meant Occlumency lessons. He had promised to teach her to project false memories, and she was itching to get started. The sooner she started practicing, the more ready she would be when Voldemort summoned them again.

The girl shivered at the thought of the Dark Lord and effectively pushed her fear away. Snape was going to teach her lie, and she was going to be that much better able to protect him…and Harry.

"Good evening, Professor," she greeted after he bid her entrance to his office.

Snape grunted in response and set down his red-tipped quill while she claimed the chair, which had already been transfigured for her. He studied her a moment before leaning back in his seat. "Miss Granger, why did you ask me to teach you this?"

Hermione straightened. "Well, Vol – erm, You-Know-Who ordered me to find out why Harry keeps meeting with Dumbledore. I imagine it wouldn't be a good idea if I just ignore him and not ask Harry, and I really doubt whatever they're doing is something we should let him see. If it were, Ron and I would already know what it is."

The man took a deep breath and glanced at the fire briefly. He wiped a hand across his face and nodded. "I'm afraid you're right on both counts, Granger."

Though the situation did not call for it, she felt her cheeks flush at the admission.

"So you've decided the best option is to show the Dark Lord a bold-faced lie," he continued. His face was pinched in consideration. After a few minutes of silence, he dropped his arms to the armrests. "There is one slight hiccup in your plan, however."

The witch's face fell slightly. "You don't think I can lie."

"On the contrary," he smirked, "I've found you to be quite the clever little liar. No, the issue is with the actual content of the memory that you plan to produce."

Frowning, Hermione rested her forearms in her lap. "Well, I hadn't gotten that far yet."

"Before you can offer up false information, you need to know what it is you need to keep hidden," he explained. "If you don't have knowledge of what you are protecting, you run the risk of doing more damage than not."

"You're saying I have to figure out what they're up to anyway?" she raised an eyebrow. "Then hide that information at the same time I'm showing him something else?"

"Precisely."

The girl let out a deep breath. "Well, couldn't you just ask Professor Dumbledore?"

Severus sighed and crossed his arms. "Regrettably, the Headmaster hasn't seen fit to inform me of his meetings with Potter, which means he does not desire me to know. I have already inquired about it and was given the distinct impression he would rather the truth not be in either of our heads if our mental shields are corrupted."

Hermione wrinkled her nose and slumped back in her chair. "Is this seriously what you do all of the time? Figure out what Professor Dumbledore doesn't want you to know, bury it in your head, manipulate it into something it's not, and tell You-Know-Who?"

He snorted and gave a small smirk. "When I'm not figuring out what the Dark Lord doesn't want me to know, burying that in my head so he doesn't find out, and then telling the Headmaster."

"My head already hurts, and we haven't even started yet," she groaned, covering her face. When a minute passed, she let her hands fall back into her lap. "Could I just figure out what they're not doing, and use that?"

He dipped his head in acknowledgment of the validity of the suggestion. "If you can ascertain with complete certainty it is not the subject of their sessions, and it is a viable possibility, we can proceed with it."

She nodded slowly and wrapped her arms around her torso. "So are you going to teach me how tonight?"

"I can promise you, Miss Granger, it will take much more than one night to accomplish this." He cleared his throat and rested his elbows on his desk. "In order for a fabricated idea to be accepted as a memory, you have to believe it happened just as much as you wish the viewer to."

The witch narrowed her eyes. "I have to believe it's real even though I made it up?"

"Indeed," he smirked. "Needless to say, we shall start small."

Hermione gave a weak smile.

"Did you use the east or west set of staircases to reach the dungeons this evening?"

"Erm, the east," she answered.

"In that case," he stated, "your first task is to convince me you came by way of the west staircases."

When he offered no further instructions, she frowned and closed her eyes. Mentally, she started walking through the corridors necessary to get from the Fat Lady's Portrait to the far staircases. She catalogued the paintings and statues she would have encountered on the way and attempted to remember the path from the western end of the dungeons to the Potions Master's office door. After several run-throughs of the route, she opened her eyes.

"Okay," she whispered.

Snape picked up his wand. With a smart flick, he wordlessly slipped into her head and viewed her first attempt. He withdrew almost immediately, not bothering to hide his sniggering.

The girl let out a heated puff of air. "What?"

"Too many details, Granger," he sneered. "Or do you habitually document everything you see every time you walk through the halls?"

"I don't understand."

The man stood from his chair. He opened up a cabinet and pulled out a pensieve that was smaller and less ornate than the Headmaster's. He carried it over to his desk and gestured for her to stand beside him.

"I am going to extract the false memory, as well as the real memory of your walking here, and I want you to note the differences." Snape held up his wand. "May I?"

Hermione exhaled nervously but nodded. "What do I do?"

"You'll picture the real memory in your head first, and when I say so, you will focus instead on your production," he explained. "I promise you, extraction does not hurt."

"Okay." She pinched her eyes closed as the tip of his wand came to rest gently against her temple. She continued focusing on the memory, vaguely aware of what he was doing. He had not lied – it did not hurt, but she could not quite describe the sensation. Almost like the feeling of peeling away dead skin from a sunburn. Then suddenly, the feeling was gone, and Snape was telling her to focus on the fabrication.

She tensed her eyebrows at the realization that the memory was still there. "Erm, shouldn't this one be gone?"

Severus gave a short chuckle and shook his head. "Memory extraction is a bit of a misnomer, Granger. It does not remove the memory so much as it withdraws a copy. You can only physically block memories with an Obliviate, but even then they can be recovered. Now, focus."

A few seconds passed before he instructed her to open her eyes. When he pointed her toward the swirling liquid in the brass bowl, she breathed deeply remembering the last trip she took into a pensieve. This time, however, she knew what to expect. These memories were completely harmless and would not leave her in tears.

She touched her head to the cool liquid and felt herself fall into place beside her memory self as they walked from Gryffindor Tower to the dungeons. The haziness she had noticed in Dumbledore's memories was present here as well. As soon as she had reached the familiar wooden door, it collapsed and sent her back to the Fat Lady's Portrait.

Her jaw dropped in astonishment as she noted the difference. Whereas the edges of the real memory had been fuzzy, everything was crisp and clear in this one. As she walked the alternate route to his office, she realized what he meant by 'too many details.' In the real memory, she had been aware of everything she passed but had not focused on them. The pictures were blurry as a result. In the fabricated images, however, the contents of every portrait and landscape stood out in much greater detail. The contrast between the two scenes was almost nauseating.

Hermione groaned as she was thrust out of the pensieve. "How do I fix that?"

"With practice," he smirked, gesturing for her to return to her seat. "To produce a believable image, you have to recognize what you would focus on if the situation were legitimate. Memories are variable, Granger. While no one remembers anything in the startling clarity of your first attempt, some do contain more information than others."

He winced and dropped his gaze to the top of his desk. "I imagine when viewing the Headmaster's memories, you noticed they were quite detailed."

She nodded, knowing better than to say anything.

"I have never seen anyone with more meticulous recollections," he stated, re-taking his seat. "Most are much more disjointed and nowhere near as thorough. As with verbal fabrications, mental lies are more often exposed for containing too much information than not enough."

"That makes sense, I suppose," she muttered, crossing her arms.

Severus gave a nod and linked his hands together. "For Monday, then, you will put together another attempt for me to view. I advise you to spend time considering how to prioritize the information you wish to convey."

Hermione nodded in agreement, then shifted on her feet. "How many times did you have to go through the images of my parents?"

"Enough," he said in a gravelly voice, flicking his gaze away from her. He had replayed it so many times he had lost count, and because of it, he still found it difficult to look her in the eyes when anyone mentioned her family. Even though they both now knew the Grangers were still alive, a small part of him could not shake the feeling that what he had shown the Dark Lord had been true. During the night, he sometimes awakened in a panic, fearful he had actually killed them.

Sighing, he shook away the dark thoughts that were beginning to surface. When he noticed she was furiously avoiding his gaze and trying to hold back a question, he waved his hand. "I will not have an aneurysm on my conscience. Ask."

A faint blush tinged her cheeks as she let out a rush of air and brushed hair out of her face. "Well…I was just thinking… I mean, I know I can't see them, but I was wondering if perhaps… Could I write to them, maybe?"

Snape sucked in a nervous breath, and his gaze settled on the sapphire ring that had been featured on her hand since she learned the truth. He rubbed at his forehead before finally nodding. "I suppose that may be acceptable. When you wish, bring me your letter and I will see to it they receive it."

At the smile that erupted across her face, he was half grateful for the desk that separated them. Had they both been standing, he did not doubt she would have thrown her arms around him again and attempted to squeeze the ever-loving life out of him.

As Hermione rose from her chair, she cleared her throat. When he glanced up at her, she grinned again and wrapped her arms around herself. "I just wanted to say, Professor, that if you wanted to use our connection…in a non-emergency situation… I would not be opposed."

"Miss Granger?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I mean, it would be easier, wouldn't it?" she shrugged. "You've had to go out of your way to communicate with me for meetings and such, when you could just talk in my head. I know you wouldn't abuse it, sir. I trust you."

With a duck of her head, she was gone, leaving Severus to stare after her in surprise.

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

Saturday brought with it not only the first Quidditch match but also the first hints of winter. Specks of snow were being battered about by the heavy November wind, and the grey sky showed no signs of clearing soon.

If that were not depressing enough, Severus currently found himself seated immediately between Minerva and Lupin. Like some atrocious Slytherin-Gryffindor sandwich.

His only current comfort was the fact Slytherin was ahead by fifty points. It seemed Weasley was panicking as his broom whipped about in the wind and was not fully focused on the location of the Quaffle. It was all to the delight of the Slytherin student body – the lyrics to "Weasley is our King" were audible even above the roar of the weather.

"Pish!" Minerva hissed as Maria Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, blocked another shot by Ginny Weasley.

Snape smirked at the witch's frustration. Bletchley, a third-year, had yet to allow any points to the Gryffindor team. He was rather impressed by the girl's abilities. She was more talented – and much more well-mannered – than her older brother Miles, who had graduated two years before.

"Weasley, get your pathetic arse in the game!"

"Perhaps you sacked him from the wrong position," he sneered, watching another ten points add to his House's score.

Her glare was intimidating even with her wearing tartan ear flaps. "If you know what's good for you, Severus, you'll shut that trap of yours."

"Is Longbottom busy?" he continued. "I daresay he could do your team no worse."

Though amused by the dark expression that crossed her face, he became less so when the man beside him cleared his throat.

"Speaking of Neville Longbottom," Remus stated quietly. "He's been doing exceptionally well in Defense this year."

Severus frowned as his eyes followed Malfoy and Potter streaking towards the nearly invisible Snitch. "I think you must have mistaken someone else for the boy."

Lupin chuckled and shook his head. "No, he really has improved. Thanks to Miss Granger's instruction."

The dark-haired man flicked his gaze towards the Gryffindor stands. His attention was immediately drawn to Lavender Brown, who was jumping up and down, cheering like mad and dressed in more scarlet and gold than was necessary.

"Finally!" Minerva sighed as the Gryffindor Keeper managed to knock the Quaffle out of the way. She momentarily took her eyes off the match to glance at the Defense instructor. "What were you saying about Miss Granger?"

"He claims she's finally managed to pull Longbottom up to snuff," Snape muttered, continuing to scan the stands opposite the pitch from them. It took a few seconds, but he spotted Hermione sitting alone at the top of the stands.

"Not just up to snuff," Lupin corrected, "but surpassing expectations by leaps and bounds."

"Is that so?" McGonagall queried.

"It is," he nodded. "I was pleasantly surprised by the girl's marked improvement in nonverbal defense, but when she paired up with Neville and taught him, I was absolutely dumbfounded. I can't even begin to imagine how she has become so knowledgeable in the area. I think she might even rival Harry in Defense now."

"Perhaps she read it in one of her numerous books," Severus grumbled. And Potter wouldn't stand a chance against her.

Remus shrugged and turned his attention back to the Quidditch match. The Deputy Headmistress, however, bore a knowing grin as she glanced at the man beside her. It was not until he glared at her that she shifted her attention away from him and cursed as a Bludger nearly knocked Ginny Weasley from her broom.

Snape let his scowl fade away as his eyes sought out the young Gryffindor witch again. He found it curious she had separated herself from the others in her House. It was almost as though she were hiding, and her only show of team spirit was the scarlet and gold scarf she had tucked beneath her jacket. If he had not have been looking so determinedly for her, he would never have noticed her.

He frowned slightly, noticing the nervous expression on her face. If she was worried someone would blame her for a Gryffindor loss, she was clearly mistaken. He was not going to tell anyone what she had done, and he knew she was too intelligent to say anything on her own.

If it wasn't that, then what? Severus opted to keep an eye on her for several more minutes while pondering the question. When he noticed her continuously glancing at the annoying blonde in the front row, he shifted his own gaze towards Miss Brown. While he had assumed Miss Brown to be cheering for the team in general, he now recognized her attention was primarily directed at the Gryffindor goal hoops.

Huh. He glanced back up at Granger, observing her concerned expression. It was obvious she was monitoring Miss Brown's attentions toward the Weasley boy. At first glance, it might look like jealousy, but given she was doing whatever she could not to draw attention to herself, he suspected she was following his earlier advice.

With a brief glance back at the high-strung, blue-eyed witch, he snorted at the strange sympathy he suddenly felt for the gingerhead. Miss Brown is as minor a distraction as is a car bomb being detonated in a quiet street.

"You needn't be so smug about it," Minerva chastised, mistaking his snort as commentary on the match.

XxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxX

Hermione winced as the Common Room launched into another, louder round of "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow." She cast Harry a sympathetic smile as he was again hoisted atop the shoulders of two of the rowdier seventh-year boys.

Though Slytherin had kept their lead for the rest of the match, Harry finally managed to catch the Snitch, nearly breaking Draco's arm in the process. The Slytherin fans had immediately broken out in boos and allegations of cheating. Malfoy, however, only gave a half-hearted sneer before vacating the pitch in the direction of the Hospital Wing. Hermione was surprised to see him disappear without even attempting to play-up his injury.

Sighing, she rubbed her shoulder and carefully picked her way through the crowded celebration. Reaching the edge of the room, she perched in a window seat and swept her eyes over the loud throng of Gryffindors. When her gaze fell upon a familiar tuft of red hair, she felt her breath catch in the back of her throat.

Ron was seated in one of the large armchairs near the fire and around his neck were the arms of Lavender Brown.

Hermione bit her lip, trying to ignore the pain gnawing in her gut as she watched the blonde plant a series of kisses upon her friend's lips. She had tried to prepare herself for the eventuality of the situation but was still surprised at how much it hurt. She honestly never thought it would take so little effort…and so little time.

Lavender's reaction was not what shocked her. Playing to the girl's catty sense of competition was almost too easy. All it had required was a rushed conversation in the girls' dormitory in which Hermione pretended to ask her former roommate's advice on how one might ask out a friend, and the rest fell into place on its own. The blonde had immediately bestowed her attention upon the redhead – sitting nearby at meals, chatting him up during class, and laughably seeking him out for help on her homework at night in the Common Room.

What had left Hermione in a state of disbelief, though, was how easily Ron soaked up Lavender's affections. For all his conversations with Harry and the obvious care he displayed for Hermione, it was quite the bruise to the ego to be so easily forgotten over a giggling, brainless tart.

Perhaps that was a bit cruel, she mused. Lavender was not that bad. After all, she easily pulled Ron out of his funk after his poor performance on the Quidditch pitch. But Hermione could not help but feel an inner rage rising, directed at both her former roommate and her best friend. It was neither of their faults, as she had been the one to push it into play, but she felt bitter watching them experience something she would never have.

"He'd rather it be you, you know."

The girl looked up, startled by the presence of the boy beside her. Harry had wrenched himself away from the crowd of younger girls that had surrounded him and had joined her on the window seat.

"What?" she asked.

Harry gestured with his head towards the pair canoodling by the fire. "If you would just go over there and talk to Ron, he'd much rather be snogging you right now."

"Oh." She attempted a laugh but found it hurt too much. Instead, she shook her head.

"You know I'm right," he pressed.

"I know," she sighed, glancing briefly at the two of them. "But I just can't."

The dark-haired boy frowned, noticing the pained expression in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Hermione struggled to find something useful to say. "Ron and I… it just won't happen. It can't."

"Care to elaborate on that?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

The witch winced. "Not really, no. It's… it's complicated. I'd rather not discuss it."

Harry sighed, then nodded slowly. "You know, if there's something wrong, Hermione – you can talk to me. I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

"Like last time, you mean?" she returned , managing a small smile.

He grimaced and hung his head in shame. "I am sorry about that. I swear it won't happen again. I really will do whatever you want, I swear it."

Hermione giggled softly and squeezed his hand. "I believe you."

"Thanks." His eyes followed her as she rose from the bench. "Where are you going?"

"Bed, I think." She stretched and wrapped her arms around her waist. "I just want to have some alone time."

"I understand that," he chuckled.

She smiled at him and ducked her head. "Please don't mention any of this to –"

"I won't tell Ron anything."

"Thanks." The witch turned to leave but paused. "And if Professor McGonagall comes to break this up, tell her I told everyone to go to bed an hour ago."

Harry grinned widely. "I will."