BOY OH BOY OH BOY

So first off, Hiiiiii. It's been a little while. Sorry for that, IRL has been HECTIC and this story had to take a teensy backseat. I'm now back at Uni (4th year ARGH) and still working three days a week, so I don't have as much time as before to write :

This chapter also just took ages for me to conceptualize. It's frustrating knowing where you want to be, but also knowing that realistically you're 4-5 chapters away and you don't know quite how to get there. So apologies for taking so long to figure out the roadmap, as it were.

The good news is that I'm still very clear on the overall direction of this fic, and although updates won't be as often as before (honestly, keeping up weekly updates for the last 16 chapters was an impressive feat for me) it won't be for lack of inspiration. When I can write, I will :)

So enjoy the chapter, please leave your thoughts as usual. The reviews, favourites, and follows really help keep me on the motivation train and it's lovely to see how many of you want to read more. Thank you super super super lots!


She woke once again drenched in sweat, immediately grabbing her wand to check the silencing charms she'd placed around the bed. Thankfully, they were still intact. She dropped back onto her pillow, taking several deep breaths and trying desperately to empty her mind. Her vision was still swimming with purple, and it took a long moment before she was fully back in the present. Breathe, Hermione, breathe. The past week she'd had more nightmares than the entire month combined. What she thought had been a cure-all in the form of meditation was quickly debunked when stress came into play, and Merlin knows was she stressed.

Classes hadn't been that bad, truth be told. The workload was much higher than last year, but the material was challenging in a fun way and the reading material was fascinating. All her essays had gone in with plenty of time, and she had devised a schedule that seemed to be working so far. The only exception had been her Defense classes. Having Professor Snape as a teacher in the subject was refreshing, and she felt like she'd learned more in the few weeks back than she had in the previous five years. It was just that whenever she had to put the books away - something that happened frequently with her new professor - she couldn't help but hesitate. She imagined the others probably felt the same way, all of them had had to fight harder than they'd ever done in their lives. Hermione was a logical person by nature, but she still couldn't shake the feeling that whoever she was paired up with during a lesson was going to cast that horrifying curse all over again. She wanted to talk to Harry about it, since he had spent the most time duelling aside from her. Every time she tried, however, he would change the subject to something completely different. It was probably his way of coping, she thought.

Then there was apparating. Hermione was thankful that apparition seemed to come naturally to her. The theory was simple enough, and her first practice attempts had gone well, although she'd left behind a shoe at one point. She also needed to work on how loud she was - at present her apparition made an audible crack whenever she reappeared, and Professor Dumbledore had been insistent that she would need to be able to apparate quietly before she would be eligible to undertake any outside Order business.

"It wouldn't do to notify an entire street of your sudden appearance, especially if one of our agents is undercover at the time, hrm?"

Hermione had fought the urge to roll her eyes and simply agreed. She wanted to learn to quietly apparate, if only for her own personal achievement goals. As much as her new role within the Order was important to her, the stealth aspect of being a runner came decidedly second next to Hermione's own standards.

The young witch took longer than usual to get ready that morning. Instead of rushing to get through her morning routine, she instead took the time to calm herself and spent extra effort really basking in each activity. She'd seen exercises like this described in one of her occlumency texts, but this had been the first morning she'd really needed to try them out. It had worked - as soon as she left Gryffindor tower she felt lighter than before. Now, standing at the top of a grassy hill on the far side of the Forbidden Forest - an area she had gained access to thanks to the good graces of Professor Dumbledore - she closed her eyes and concentrated on the feeling of moving from one spot to another. Using the same techniques she had spent months crafting and perfecting, Hermione focused her thoughts into that singular point, movement. Then, with the same deft mental precision, she cleared her mind of all other thoughts. Looking inwardly at her mind, it resembled a glossy white painter's canvas, the feeling warmed her. The idea was to remove the noise inside her head, so that there could be no transference through apparition. It also meant that her entire being could focus on the location she wished to go, giving her the best chance at apparating successfully. Taking a deep breath, she once more pictured the spot at the bottom of the hill - next to a fledgling elm tree - and thought the spell. She could feel the familiar if uncomfortable pull of apparition twisting her body around, and when she opened her eyes, she was standing not a foot away from the little tree. Looking down at herself, she couldn't find any clothing or - thank goodness - features, missing. Thinking, she hadn't heard a crack either! On her previous attempts, the audible pop had been almost too distracting, but this time there had been nothing. Had she done it? Grinning to herself, she sat down by the tree to run through a brief meditation exercise before trying again.


As she walked into Professor Snape's office, Hermione was surprised to see him seated by the fireplace, waiting for her. On the small side table, two pots of tea and an assortment of biscuits had already been laid out, and the fire crackled happily away in the hearth. Her professor didn't look up as she entered, instead focused intently on the warm hues dancing before him. Stopping momentarily to take in the peculiar scene, she gently set her bag down by the door and - taking care to walk as quietly as she could - moved to join her companion by the fire. Settling into the cosy, if worn, armchair, she held the mug of piping hot peppermint tightly between both hands and took a satisfying deep breath in, letting the aroma cloud her senses. Relaxing immediately into the scent, she brought her legs up under her and curled into the chair. Something felt both very off and still very comfortable about the whole environment, and Hermione decided to push her luck.

"I feel as though I've missed the first half of the session." She spoke softly, a quiet smile playing on her lips. The low chuckle from her professor was deep enough for her to drown in, but as soon as it had escaped his lips his face settled back into the neutral indifference she had always associated with the man.

"My hope for these sessions is that you are able associate them with feelings of comfort, even if the subject matter can get a little.. Difficult. Therefore, today I want to forgo the occlumency portion of the lesson and go straight to discussion." He glanced across to the other chair where the witch was curled up. "After all, I believe there is much for us to discuss, is there not?"

Hermione's face dropped slightly, and she felt her shoulders tense. Memories of endless corridors, panic, shades of sickening purple filled her head, fighting to push out the warmth that the tea provided. The sensation of reliving that scene while she was fully awake was harrowing, that Professor Snape had also experienced that feeling was nothing short of mortifying. She knew that she'd need to discuss what he'd seen eventually, but with everything else on her plate it had slipped her mind.

"I- I suppose so."

Snape set his tea on the table and leaned back into his chair, placing his hands into the familiar position under his chin. He crossed one leg over the other, and stared into the fire for what Hermione felt was an eternity, before beginning to speak.

"I must admit, I have made assumptions about what you have experienced based on what I witnessed last session. Forgive me for that. However, during this discussion I will not attempt to disclose these assumptions until you feel you have divulged all you can. This discussion is designed to help you.. Get things off your chest, nothing more."

That was at least a good sign, Hermione thought to herself. Although she had come to see Professor Snape in a different light to what she had witnessed during her earlier years, she knew he could still be cold, and he could still be hurtful. It would be easier to talk about what she was feeling if she knew there was no danger of being judged, and even though a part of her still worried that he would make some harsh comment, she wanted to believe him.

"I'd.. appreciate that sir. I'm not sure how well I'll be able to articulate what you.. Saw."

Snape rubbed his chin with one long finger. "Would you prefer it if I were to ask questions about the event.. Lead the conversation, as it were. Not to question your answers, but to help you get to the root cause."

Hermione stared into the fire, weighing up her options as quickly as she could. "..Yes. Yes I think that would be best."

"Very well." Snape sat forward in the chair, reaching into his outer cloak and withdrawing a small black notebook. It was held closed by a thin length of leather, and when he opened it Hermione could see that notes had already been scribbled inside in Snape's spiky scrawl. He then withdrew his wand, flicking lazily towards the office desk, where a black feathered quill flew from its position in the inkwell and into his hand. Hermione watched as he began to write, turning slightly so as to obscure her view. "Let's start with perhaps the easiest question. When did the nightmares begin?"

Hermione fidgeted in her chair, wringing her hands softly as she thought about her answer. She knew, of course, exactly when they had started. She had entertained the fleeting thought of starting a journal to document the various imagery she'd experienced, but quickly found that the nightmare returned so frequently that she could almost see it when she closed her eyes.

"I didn't regain consciousness until a week after the battle at the Ministry, but I know I had them before that, multiple times. It was like.. It was like I was trapped within it." She said, not daring to speak louder than a whisper. It hurt to think back to that night, and the emptiness that plagued her for days afterwards. The only respite from nothingness had been the dimly lit corridor. She could see the slight raise of Snape's eyebrows, but he said nothing, merely continuing to make notes. Sensing that he was waiting for her to continue, she pressed on.

"I remember overhearing Madame Pomfrey speaking to one of the teachers, after I'd woken up, saying that I'd been screaming in my sleep. She'd had to cast silencing spells around my bed so as not to alert the other patients."

Snape jotted it down quickly, reflecting as he did. He had remembered the night well; Poppy Pomfrey near frantic with worry that Miss Granger was experiencing trauma that would not abate, him trying incredibly hard not to lose his patience with the witch while promising he would bring extra vials of Dreamless Sleep to try and curb the issue. That she was still having the same dream, so long after the event, only proved just how savagely it had impacted her.

"Have they continued, all this time?"

"Sometimes they won't be as frequent, perhaps only once a week. But yes, all this time."

Snape made a noise that sounded close to agreement, but didn't look up from his notebook.

"The meditation exercises I instructed you to perform. Did they help?"

Hermione smiled into her tea. "For a time. However, if I've had a particularly stressful day, or if I'm worrying about something, it feels as if nothing I do helps." As soon as she had returned home, she'd meditated every day. Spent extra amounts of time clearing her mind, not daring to go to sleep until her head was a blank slate. She wondered if her dreamless nights were as much to do with meditation as it was to do with exhaustion.

"Miss Granger.." Snape paused, thinking how best to proceed. "Tell me about that night."

The room seemed to chill, time slowed to a halt. Hermione had spoken to no one about that night, not Ron, Harry, or any of her friends who had run into the Ministry building. Whatever words could have passed between them didn't need to be spoken - they all knew what had happened, all had their own monsters to confront.

"Why?" She whispered, as much to herself as to Snape. It bothered her that he still wouldn't look her way.

"Because if you don't, if you keep this memory bottled up along with all those emotions you felt, it will destroy you. It will eat away at your every fiber of your being until it becomes all you know, and it will change how you view the world. Turn you bitter and hateful. Believe me, you don't want that to be your life." Snape kept his eyes trained on the fire but they were no longer neutral, instead holding something close to sorrow. Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes, she knew he was right. It felt like an eternity before she was able to talk.

"I knew it was a trap. Part of me, deep down, knew we were going to get hurt. I couldn't articulate it well enough to convince the others. I'm not sure anything I said could have stopped Harry. When the fighting began, I thought I was ready. We'd been training all year, naive enough to believe that simple hexes and jinxes could take down seasoned killers." She laughed, a bitter laugh. "I tried.. I tried to keep everyone safe. I think, I don't know but I might have killed one of them.. Then Ron got hit, and it was like I couldn't think properly anymore. I kept trying to focus on the battle, but everywhere I looked someone else was getting hurt and I knew- I knew we were losing." She took another deep breath, trying to still the lump that was quickly forming in her throat. "When I came across Dolohov… I didn't think I could win, but I was so afraid and I knew I had to do something so I kept firing. I threw everything I could think of at him. When I'd finally disarmed him, it was like I could breathe again. I was stupid enough to think it was over." She stopped again, staring deep into the fire. It was as if the flames dancing in the hearth twisted and contorted into the silhouettes of duelists, her mind feeding the imagery the longer she looked.

"I turned back just long enough to see the shot come at me, crude purple flames. The pain… It felt like someone had taken a burning blade to my chest and was slowly opening me up. There was no fire but god.. It burned. Seared." She was crying, she could feel how wet her face was, but she didn't dare look away from the fire. "The last thing I saw was his face, eyes that were needlessly cruel. He mouthed something at me, he had this- just the most twisted grin. He said, 'you're all alone'. Those words echoed in my mind, even when I was unconscious it was like I could hear them over and over."

Snape hadn't stopped writing, his brow furrowed as he filled the pages with everything she'd said. In the moments filled with silence he took the opportunity to make his own observations in the margins, crossing them out and rewriting. He knew Dolohov far too well for his liking, the sadistic streak the man had was notorious. The fact that Miss Granger had survived that particular curse - one designed to mutilate and destroy - was nothing short of a miracle. His hope had been that she had been knocked unconscious before the worst of the damage had been done, but it seemed he'd been wrong. As she described the scene, the emotions that had raged through her, the nightmare he'd witnessed began to make perfect sense. For what was it if not a classic manifestation of her most feared moment - the moment she thought she was running to her death.

"I'm sorry Professor."

The quiet resignation in her voice pulled Snape from his thoughts. "..For?"

"This problem has stopped me from performing as well as I can in your class, sir. I hesitate every time I go to cast a spell. It shouldn't affect me like this."

Snape contemplated this. If he was being honest, he hadn't been watching the girl as closely as he perhaps should have, given her experiences. He had - incorrectly - assumed that she would excel in whatever lessons he set for the class, instead focusing on those with weaker abilities. It had never occurred to him that she might not be performing to her usual standard.

"If that is the case, Miss Granger, then you hide it well. I apologize that I hadn't noticed before. It is, however, something you will need to push past. I fear there will be more fights ahead of you, some much worse than what you endured in the Ministry."

Hermione sat quiet for some time. Every now and then she would blow on her tea, although by now it was likely no more than lukewarm. She had the smallest crinkle in her brow, like she was debating in her head. Eventually, she spoke again.

"The guilt.. of hurting someone. Does it ever leave you?"

He turned to her then, the question catching him off guard. Her eyes were filled with sadness, and he realised then how unprepared she had truly been for the events of last year. He sighed, closing his eyes and turning back towards the fire.

"No."


Snape had ended the discussion shortly after that, citing the late hour and her obvious need for some rest. She hadn't said much, a murmured thank you and a hushed goodnight as she left. It was clear she needed time to process what she had spoken of.

Almost as soon as she left, Snape immediately sank back into the armchair, scrubbing his face with his hands and staring up at the ceiling. Never before had he been so on edge around a student, what a fool he'd been. It had taken all his willpower not to look at her throughout the evening, only faltering when she caught him off guard with her question about guilt. He wished he'd kept his resolve.

It had been his intention to push all thoughts associated with that damn peppermint smell firmly out of his mind. There were a myriad of reasons why, not least because the person tied to the scent was a student and in a state of mind that wasn't completely stable. It didn't slip his mind that he was still a double agent, fighting both sides in what would likely be a very messy war and that affection was something he had zero time for. Ever since their last session, he had spent whatever free time he could afford scouring every potions book with a mention of Amortentia that he could get his hands on. He could find nothing on what might cause a person's reaction to the potion to change. In reality, he knew why. In this instance, the most obvious answer was likely correct. Regardless, he needed to keep his distance and maintain the boundaries he had instilled for the last 6 years.

And yet, he had requested the same tea. He had taken the opportunity to breathe in the familiar smell, allowing himself to be washed away in the emotions it provoked. He had needed to know. Although he had not looked at her, he had gone out of his way to be kind. He had led her through the memory, asked questions to steady her but didn't push for an answer. He allowed the quiet to settle, had listened intently to every word. He'd even allowed himself to divulge a part of himself, hoping it might make her understand that the last person she wanted to end up like, was himself. He couldn't cross a line, the last shreds of his own integrity would see to that. He could, however, form a partnership of sorts with the girl. They were both Order members, sooner rather than later she would be privy to information no one her age should have to deal with. She had faced danger up close and instead of running - like her nightmare would lead her to believe - she was stepping forward to face it once more. Anything he could do to help the witch stay on her feet, he would.