Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

If she had to look back and chose a specific moment that started it all, it would be her third year she supposes, it had been a decision she made on a whim. One of those moments that have a rather larger impact on the future than anyone could have guessed at the time.

Snape had been _beyond reason, quite deranged_ really, but she'd still felt bad about the three of them knocking him out, she'd only meant to disarm him…

* * *

"_We attacked a teacher … we attacked a teacher…" _She whimpered, staring at Snape's lifeless body.

The events that followed were mind-blowing. Ron's rat was a thirty four year old man. An innocent man had been in prison for 12 years. Said man and her teacher had been about to kill the rat – man. God, it was nearly too much to conceive.

"_What about Professor Snape?" _She asked in a small voice and watched will a certain apathy that scared her as Snape rose _as though invisible strings were tied to his wrists, neck and knees, head still lolling like a grotesque puppet. He hung a few inches above the ground, his limp feet dangling. _He'd only been trying to help.

Hermione _had never been part of a stranger group. Crookshanks led the way down the stairs; Lupin, Pettigrew and Ron went next, looking like contestants in a six-legged race. Next came Professor Snape, drifting creepily along, his toes hitting each stair as they descended, held up by his own wand which was being pointed at him by Sirius._

What happened next was a hideous blur of werewolves, rats and dementors.

* * *

She woke eventually and heard Snape and Fudge's conversation.

_"Shocking business... shocking... miracle none of them died... never heard the like... by thunder, it was lucky you were there, Snape..."_

_"Thank you, Minister."_

_"Order of Merlin, Second Class, I'd say. First Class, if I can wangle it!"_

_"Thank you very much indeed, Minister."_

_"Nasty cut you've got there... Black's work, I suppose?"_

_"As a matter of fact, it was Potter, Weasley, and Granger, Minister..."_

_"No!"_

_"Black had bewitched them, I saw it immediately. A Confundus Charm, to judge by their behaviour. They seemed to think there was a possibility he was innocent. They weren't responsible for their actions. On the other hand, their interference might have permitted Black to escape... They obviously thought they were going to catch Black single-handed. They've got away with a__great deal__before now... I'm afraid it's given them a rather high opinion of themselves... and of course Potter has always been allowed an extraordinary amount of license by the headmaster -"_

_"Ah, well, Snape... Harry Potter, you know... we've all got a bit of a blind spot where he's concerned."_

_"And yet - is it good for him to be given so much special treatment? Personally, I try and treat him like any other student. And any other student would be suspended - at the very least - for leading his friends into such danger. Consider, Minister - against all school rules - after all the precautions put in place for his protection - out-of-bounds, at night, consorting with a werewolf and a murderer - and I have reason to believe he has been visiting Hogsmeade illegally too -"_

_"Well, well... we shall see, Snape, we shall see... The boy has undoubtedly been foolish..."_

_"What amazes me most is the behaviour of the Dementors... you've really no idea what made them retreat, Snape?"_

_"No, Minister... by the time I had come 'round they were heading back to their positions at the entrances..."_

_"Extraordinary. And yet Black, and Harry, and the girl -"_

_"All unconscious by the time I reached them. I bound and gagged Black, naturally, conjured stretchers, and brought them all straight back to the castle."_

**_Shit shit shit shit shit. _**

Hermione desperately tried to formulate some sort of a plan with her vaunted intellect but no easy solution was forthcoming. Naturally Harry had leapt into action the moment he was conscious. After his bellowing at the Minister proved futile she tried a slightly different approach.

"_Minister, listen, please." _She implored. _"I saw him too, it was Ron's rat, he's an animagus, Pettigrew I mean and –"_

"_You see, Minister?" said Snape. "Confunded, both of them... Black's done a very good job on them..."_

Both of their continued efforts were in vain and Hermione silently cursed the adults inability to comprehend their mistake. But then Dumbledore was there. Thanks heavens Dumbledore was there. There was hope.

"_MISS GRANGER HOLD YOUR TONGUE"_ Snape spat at her the moment she spoke but for once she didn't take it personally. After Dumbledore had insisted everyone left so he could speak to her and Harry privately, the look on Snape's face scared her.

"_You surely don't believe a word of Black's story?" Snape whispered, his eyes fixed on Dumbledore's face, _his expression desperate.

_"I wish to speak to Harry and Hermione alone," Dumbledore repeated._

_Snape took a step toward Dumbledore._

_"Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen," he breathed. "You haven't forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven't forgotten that he once tried to kill me?"_

Hermione gasped. Confusion and panic blurred her vision momentarily.

_"My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly._

_Snape turned on his heel and marched through the door Fudge was still holding. _She had seen his expression before he left though, it had been such a mixture of rage, fear and betrayal, and such a contrast to his usual derisive sneer it had hurt to look at and it suddenly struck her that he was human. It was a childish realisation really, but Snape always seemed so utterly inhuman, as if he was discovered rather than born, it shook her and she had to force herself to focus on the task at hand.

Dumbledore's plan was insanity. _Don't think, don't think, don't think. _She told herself on repeat as she threw the necklace round Harry.

* * *

They did it in the end. God, it had been dangerous and stupid and _mental_ but Sirius was safe for now and they hadn't been seen or eaten by a werewolf or had their souls sucked out by dementors so she was definitely going to count it as a win. Feeling rather pleased herself, Hermione happily ate the chocolate Madam Pomfrey offered and relished the warm feeling it gave her as she allowed it to melt in her mouth.

Then _they heard a distant roar of fury echoing from somewhere above them..._

_"What was that?" said Madam Pomfrey in alarm._

_Now they could hear angry voices, growing louder and louder. Madam Pomfrey was staring at the door._

_"Really - they'll wake everybody up! What do they think they're doing?"_

Hermione _was trying to hear what the voices were saying. They were drawing nearer -_

_"He must have Disapparated, Severus. We should have left somebody in the room with him. When this gets out -"_

_"HE DIDN'T DISAPPARATE!" Snape roared, now very close at hand. "YOU CAN'T APPARATE OR DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS - HAS - SOMETHING - TO - DO - WITH - POTTER!"_

_"Severus - be reasonable - Harry has been locked up -"_

_BAM. _

_T__he door of the hospital wing burst open. __Fudge, Snape, and Dumbledore came striding into the ward. Dumbledore alone looked calm. Indeed, he looked as though he was quite enjoying himself. Fudge appeared angry. But Snape was beside himself._

_"OUT WITH IT, POTTER!" he bellowed. "WHAT DID YOU DO?"_

_"Professor Snape!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey. "Control yourself!"_

_"See here, Snape, be reasonable," said Fudge. "This door's been locked, we just saw -"_

_"THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!" Snape howled, __pointing __at Harry and Hermione. His face was twisted; spit was flying from his mouth._

_"Calm down, man!" Fudge barked. "You're talking nonsense!"_

_"YOU DON'T KNOW POTTER!" shrieked Snape. "HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT -"_

_"That will do, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly. "Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the ward ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?"_

_"Of course not!" said Madam Pomfrey, bristling. "I would have heard them!"_

_"Well, there you have it, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Hermione are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further."_

_Snape stood there, seething, staring from Fudge, who looked thoroughly shocked at his behaviour, to Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling behind his glasses. Snape whirled about, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the ward._

_"Fellow seems quite unbalanced," said Fudge, staring after him. "I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore."_

_"Oh, he's not unbalanced," said Dumbledore quietly. "He's just suffered a severe disappointment."_

_"He's not the only one!" puffed Fudge. "The Daily Prophet's going to have a field day! We had Black cornered and he slipped through our fingers yet again! All it needs now is for the story of that Hippogriff's escape to get out, and I'll be a laughingstock! Well... I'd better go and notify the Ministry..."_

Hermione didn't really hear much after that. Snape's fury, his complete loss of control bothered her, she recalled how fast Snape had run to get to them, how manic he'd been in the shack, but he hadn't harmed anyone, not Lupin or Black. He'd seemed so deranged in their company, his usual composure a million miles away; over the course of the night he'd shrieked, snarled, roared, bellowed and howled like a mad man. His whispered plea came back to her….

"_You haven't forgotten that he once tried to kill __**me**__?"_

She was shocked to realise that this must be about so much more than a schoolboy grudge, whatever had happened between them all those years ago, it obviously still an open wound to Snape, and despite all his hatred and yelling he hadn't hurt anyone. He hadn't killed Sirius, he hadn't even hexed him, and she guiltily remembered Sirius allowing Snape's head to bump almost continuously on the low ceiling. She'd watched her Professor collect them after the incident with the dementors and he hadn't exactly been gentle, but he did conjure stretchers for them, Sirius included, she quickly took stock of herself. Nope, no injuries. Snape obviously hadn't used the opportunity to ram her into anything and she probably wouldn't have even blamed him even if he had; he'd run to confront someone he believed to be a murderer and a werewolf who he _knew_ hadn't taken his potion to save 3 students he obviously hated and all they'd done in return was knock him unconscious. And now probably lost him an Order of Merlin. Shit. She made her mind up there and then.

_"You explain," said Harry, helping himself to some more chocolate._

Hermione blinked at him in confusion. Oh. Ron was awake.

"You explain Harry." She replied. "And cover for me if Madam Pomfrey comes back."

And before she could change her mind, she uttered a quick Alohomora, and headed after Professor Snape.

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**Thanks for reading! **

**This story will be pretty much compliant with the books, what happens between Hermione and Severus will sort of be behind the scenes, obviously I'll have to make a few minor changes for this to take place properly. It's going to be a gradual relationship development between them because Severus isn't the nicest person in the world and they're both very stubborn individuals! I have a pretty clear idea as to how this story will develop, my Severus is going to be pretty messed up and I want to keep them both as in character as I can manage, but if you have any opinions as to how you think they should respond to one another or anything let me know.**

**I'm so excited to continue writing!**

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_All text in italics is taken directly from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, obviously by the amazing J.K Rowling. I own nothing!_


	2. Chapter 2

That was how Hermione found herself outside his office door. She didn't know where his private quarters were, but she knew McGonagall's were through her office, so she hoped it was the same set up for the head of Slytherin. Taking a deep, calming breath, she knocked on the door and waited.

There was no answer. She really should have left at that point. She knew her presence would not be welcome and had no idea what she would even say to him, but the injustice of the whole thing made it impossible for her to just walk away. She knocked again, more loudly. Then again. And again. And then again and again and again until she was pounding on his door with both fists feeling like a complete lunatic.

He wrenched his door open and glared at her, his black eyes wild, looking every inch the maniac she had felt herself not seconds earlier. His greasy hair was all over the place; some partially tucked behind his ear, some protruding at awkward angels from the top of his head and some plastered over his face, stuck to the sweat that glistened on his sallow cheeks. It made her feel like she had rather tameable hair for one bizarre moment. She got a strong whiff of alcohol next which was rather alarming in combination with his appearance, and all she could do was stare at this man who looked about as far as anyone possibly could from her Potions Professor, while still actually being the same person.

"Well?" He asked her and his lack of anger was almost more alarming.

"Umm…" She responded, suddenly feeling like a complete and utter fool. What on earth was she supposed to say to him? She hadn't planned anything; she'd just leapt from her bed and rushed down here like the brave, stupid, reckless Gryffindor that she was.

"Well I – umm – I came to see if you were alright." She caught a glimpse of his eyes widening, his expression a mix of surprise and scepticism before he slammed the door unceremoniously in her face. Not stopping to think, she began hammering on his door once more; whatever it was that was so troubling her Professor, it was painfully clear that he was very far removed from being "alright".

"WHAT?" He shrieked as he threw the door open once more. Well that was more like it.

"You're obviously not alright." She told him honestly, and braced herself for his verbal, or possibly physical assault given his behaviour and the strong smell of alcohol on him. But it didn't come. When she dared to meet his eyes she discovered he was just staring at her, a slight frown marring his expression as he silently studied her. Hermione felt the need to fill the long silence that had settled between them.

"And I um, I thought you might like to know what happened to Sirius?" She added. That certainly got a reaction. The mad gleam returned to his eyes and he seized the front of her robes.

"SO YOU DID HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH IT! I KNEW IT – I KNEW YOU AND POTTER WERE INVOLVED I KNEW IT!" Spit was flying from his mouth at a distressing rate and he began to drag her down the corridor.

"The Headmaster will be VERY interested to hear about this I'm sure, helping a convicted murderer escape, no way will you and you're little friends get away with _this_." His voice had gone very quiet now, the kind of deathly quiet that all students associated with impending doom although there was a slight waver to his voice that she suspected was from triumph.

"Please Professor," Hermione whispered breathlessly, struggling to walk alongside him as he was still clutching her robes in a vicelike grip. "The Headmaster already knows. He was the one who told us to help him escape. Well he didn't exactly _tell _us but it was very strongly implied and he congratulated us when we told him we'd done it –" She stopped talking abruptly as Snape had stopped in his tracks, he was staring at her with an intensity that frightened her and he leaned very close to her face.

"What did you say?" He breathed and she could clearly smell the firewhiskey on his breath.

"I said that Professor Dumbledore already knows sir," she told him quietly, not entirely sure what to make of his reaction, "he was the one that came up with a plan - well it wasn't really a plan – but it was his idea, sort of." He continued to stare at her.

"And Sirius really didn't kill anyone sir, he was framed, Professor Dumbledore believed him, and us, that's why he suggested it." She finished, starring back at him in confusion. Snape's face was blank but there was something that looked suspiciously like pain lurking in the depths of his obsidian eyes.

"I'll tell you everything sir, it's the least I can do after you tried to save us." She continued earnestly. "I know you probably won't believe me though, but I was reading in the Library a few days ago and I came across a rather obscure branch of magic," She looked up at him once more, expecting him to interrupt but he was still gazing at her unseeingly. "It's called Legilimency, I'm sure you've heard of it, actually I was wondering if you're accomplished at it, that would explain how you can normally tell when someone's lying? Anyway, I thought that – perhaps - you could use it on me so you could see what really happened and get the full story?" She watched for his reaction apprehensively but she needn't have worried, he blinked at her twice, released her robes and then swept away from her in a billowing of black cloak. Pausing only for a split second, Hermione followed him at a jog.

* * *

And that was how she found herself in his living room, if it could really be called that, it was rather dark even with the torches lit and there were no windows, only two small armchairs, one of which was a lot more worn than the other, a small coffee table and shelves of books lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Wow.

Before Hermione could properly take in her surroundings Professor Snape turned towards her suddenly, roughly grasping her chin, his wand pointed directly at her and she braced herself for his inevitable invasion, but he paused for a second, staring at her mutely, his face hesitant despite the obvious dislike etched onto his harsh features and she understood; he was giving her a chance to run or scream or hex him. So she nodded, and then he was inside her, his presence like a weight in her head and image after imaged raced through her mind at random, finally focusing on her, Ron and Harry knocking Snape out. _No_ said a voice inside her head, _from the beginning. _And so they were watching Ron run from the invisibility cloak, the events of that night flickering forward faster, slowing down at certain points and she felt again the sheer terror of seeing Sirius for the first time, the betrayal of Lupin being there, the confusion at what was being said, the guilt at harming Snape, the horror that was Peter Pettigrew, the crippling fear of Lupin transformed, the hopelessness when no one would believe her and Harry, and the mad, adrenaline filled, Buckbeak-Sirius rescue, all of it, everything over again.

He withdrew from her mind, and sank, boneless into the more worn chair leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands shaking. Hermione lowered herself onto the coffee table opposite him, feeling utterly exhausted for the first time that night. She used this rare, unguarded moment, where her Professor didn't seem entirely mad, to properly study him. He looked shattered, and not the type of shattered someone looks after a long day or a bad night; he looked like he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in months and although his eyes were downcast, there was something around their edges that reminded Hermione of a photo of a war veteran she'd seen when she was very young. They contained a certain depth or dimension that most eyes didn't, a sort of haunting that really didn't belong there.

Her eyes were drawn back to his shaking hands, he was constantly clenching and unclenching them, whether in an effort to stop the shaking or to control his anger -fear? No anger, surely anger? - she didn't know, but it was disturbing to see this unshakeable man, well - shaking.

He reached down and picked a bottle of Ogden's firewhiskey – with a copious amount already missing – and poured a large helping into a glass which he downed like pumpkin juice.

"You are dismissed Miss Granger." Snape said, his voice sounding hollow.

"Yes sir." She replied, automatically standing up. Then she paused as he poured himself another large glass and downed it in one.

"I said you are dismissed you silly girl." He said, and poured a third glass, glaring at her defiantly. She didn't move. As he lifted the amber liquid to his mouth a shudder seemed to run through him and, in combination with his shaking hands, he spilled a large amount down his robes.

"DAMMIT." He yelled, looking entirely demented once more.

"GET OUT GRANGER! OUT!" And he stood and threw the glass at the wall behind her, shattering it completely and glass flew everywhere. He sank unsteadily back onto the chair and ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it even more. Hermione stood frozen. She wanted to leave, he was scaring her more than she'd like to admit, but she'd come to see if he was okay, and he clearly wasn't. So she couldn't leave. She couldn't. She took a deep breath and summoned the some of the courage her house was famous for. With a wave of her wand and a muttered spell she cleared away the broken glass and sat down in front of him once more. He regarded her carefully.

"Why are you here?" He asked her, his voice a little rough. She sighed.

"You're obviously not alright." She answered with a slight shrug, echoing her words from earlier.

"Get out." He breathed, but they both knew she wasn't leaving. He sneered at her, and it was a bit of a relief to see such a familiar expression back on his face. At length he conjured another glass and began drinking once more; Hermione didn't dare say anything, and so she sat and watched her Professor get more and more intoxicated.

* * *

"What did Sirius do to you?" She dared to ask him, well after midnight.

"He tried to kill me." He answered. His speech a little slurred.

"How?" She responded, emboldened by his response.

"It was sixth year, I was curious as to what happened to Lupin every month, obviously I had my suspicions. Black tricked me into going down to the Shrieking Shack at a full moon. I saw Lupin transformed down there." Came his emotionless reply.

"You could have died!" Hermione gasped.

"Obviously." He drawled, those 4 syllables making her disproportionately stupid.

"But he was punished?" She asked, sensing his answer before he gave it.

"Dumbledore gave him … _detention. _And I was sworn to secrecy." The alcohol was obviously loosening his tongue considerably; there was no way he would have told her any of this otherwise.

"That's not very fair."

"Life rarely is. And besides I was never the favourite, I was a Slytherin with an extensive knowledge of Dark magic, why would Dumbledore, the ultimate Gryffindor, side with me? Even now, even after all these years where I've given him nothing but my loyalty, he still sided with Black, a convicted murderer, over me. AND had a nice little joke with his new favourite Gryffindors at my expense, *_'Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Hermione are able to be in two places at once'. *" _He spat the last few words out, his harsh drawl a cruel imitation of the Headmaster, the words seemingly ripped out of him, almost against his will.

Hermione said nothing, she had a huge amount of respect for Dumbledore but she couldn't help but feel uneasy at Snape's story. He had seemed to find Snape's anger rather amusing looking back, his eyes had been twinkling as he's looked at her and Harry, as if they'd been in on a joke together, but she was sure it hadn't been at Snape's expense, and not maliciously at all…

Snape poured another drink and downed it quickly, leaning back on the armchair and regarding her with scared eyes.

"Why won't you leave?" He whispered, his tone sounding confused and desperate in a way that deeply unsettled her all the way down to the bottom of her stomach and she stared at her hands clasped in her lap, trying to think of something she could say, knowing she couldn't reassure him, but urgently wanting to. When she looked back up she was spared the necessity of speech; he was asleep in his chair, his arms wrapped around himself protectively and a slight shiver ran through him. _Well that's why you shouldn't drink so much _she thought harshly, then immediately felt guilty as she remembered the cut on his head, did he have concussion, could that be what was making him cold? She didn't remember Madam Pomfrey treating him, but then she couldn't imagine someone like Snape ever seeking treatment unless they were on the verge on death.

She sighed once more, feeling immensely troubled as she regarded her sleeping Professor. He shouldn't have let her stay, admittedly she hadn't given him a huge amount of choice but when he was his usual self, she felt sure he would have found a way to make her leave. Well, if he was his usual self there wouldn't have been any reason for her to stay. He was obviously still deeply troubled by the injustice of the "werewolf incident" as Hermione had name it, and she couldn't say she blamed him, what he had told her made her view Dumbledore in a different light, which in and of itself was troubling; he'd always seemed so jovial and kind, the perfect sort of Grandfather figure with an undercurrent of impressive magical power. Not to mention she was now seeing Snape in a different light; he was most decidedly human, right down to his alcohol breath. She looked at him again and he shivered. Hermione sighed, she was starting to feel like a deflating balloon, and conjured a large blanket, placing in gingerly around his sleeping form. She considered taking his shoes off but decided she didn't have a death wish; he was sure to be hideous enough when he woke up without the added embarrassment of her undressing him, and he would definitely be extremely hung-over. Slipping her own shoes off, she conjured one more blanket and wrapped it around herself as she settled into the second armchair. She would leave once Professor Snape was alright enough to throw her out, and dock a huge amount of house points, and probably give her detention just for good measure.

She sighed, and slipped into an exhausted sleep.

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**So here's chapter 2, this was a lot longer than I was intending it to be; it just wouldn't end! Hope you enjoy it, I'm hoping to keep up the fast pace of uploading new chapters for a bit to get the story going but then I may have to slow down a little as reality gets in my way sometimes ;)**

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** _Text taken directly from Prisoner of Azkaban. __  
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	3. Chapter 3

It couldn't have been more than 3 hours later that Hermione was woken from her slumber. She couldn't figure out what had disturbed her at first. Aside from the slight disorientation, followed by the 2 second panic once she remembered where she was, everything seemed dark and quiet and overwhelmingly normal. She was just shifting into a slightly more comfortable position, which isn't particularly easy on a second-best armchair, when she heard something that made her blood run cold.

"No." Whispered a miserable voice, very close to her. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom she stared over at Professor Snape, knowing there was no one else in the room. He was _panting._

"_You wait." _He whispered. And Hermione waited, she was fairly sure he was dreaming but she daren't move a single muscle.

He let out a _stream of mixed swear words and hexes _next, as far as she could tell; he was speaking very quietly and not quite coherently. Then suddenly he was coughing and choking, she leapt to her feet and rushed to his side, lighting one of the torches as she went. He opened his eyes for a second, then closed them almost immediately, he was definitely asleep and nothing physical was causing him to choke. She knelt next to him, stilled by indecision. _Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus._ She didn't want to wake Snape, he wasn't a dragon, but he was easily as scary as one at times and she doubted he'd be very pleased to see her. Sleep talking didn't seem very Snape-ish but it wasn't like he was crying or shouting or anything to indicate he was having a nightmare. She wouldn't wake him. It wasn't worth it; he was ok and so was she, and she'd really like to remain that way thank you very much. He was quiet now anyway.

"No." He moaned, louder this time, and her heart rate went through the roof. She looked at him more closely and saw that he was shivering slightly although his face was flushed; slick with sweat, and contorted in misery.

"_**I'm sorry."**_ He whimpered, so quietly she had to strain to hear him.

"_**I'm sorry**_**.** I didn't – _**I didn't mean **_– not you – I'm sorry."

"P-Professor?" She breathed, her voice sounding pathetically timid even to her own ears.

"No, please, please don't go." He begged.

She opened her mouth once more but no sound came out; she'd just been about to say something else when a her Professor made a tiny little sound of absolute despair at the back of his throat, he was so tightly controlled she was sure it would have been full blown sobbing for anyone else and her heart suddenly felt like it had gained at least a stone.

She quickly sat up on the edge of the coffee table, the added height making her feel a little safer and leant over Snape, touching his shoulder. She felt his flinch like a physical blow. She gave him a gentle shake.

"Wake up Professor Snape." Her voice seemed very loud in the silent room.

It happened very suddenly. She was just about to tell him to wake up once more when his eyes flew open, he sat bolt upright and one of his hands closed around her neck while the other pointed his wand between her eyes. He looked utterly mad.

"It's – it's okay Professor." She gasped, his hand still firmly around her neck. "You were having a bad dream and I thought I should wake you."

He stared at her, looking thoroughly confused now, as well as utterly mad. He didn't move or release her. Acting on pure instinct she let go of the hand around her neck, not really realising that she'd been pulling on it, and forced herself to completely relax her body. Professor Snape would not hurt her. His grip slackened slightly and he looked rather dazed. _Shit he's probably still drunk _she thought wildly, and reached her right hand towards him slowly so as not to startle him. When he still didn't move she went to brush some of his hair from his sweaty face but as soon as her fingertips touched him he pushed her away and threw himself backwards, his reflexes still like lightning.

He still looked completely bewildered and she wondered if he was stuck somewhere in between being fully awake and dozing.

"Everything's okay Professor Snape," She told him carefully, leaning slightly toward him, "you're in your living room at Hogwarts and you're safe, you were having a bad dream, so I woke you up."

He blinked a few times then a great shudder ran through him and he flopped back against the chair, running his hands over his face and seeming to come back to himself.

"What in Merlin's name are you still doing here Miss Granger?" Snape demanded.

"I – umm." She faltered, caught off guard by his quick change in demeanour and his apparent alertness. "Well sir, you were very drunk, and then you were asleep and I was going to leave but – well – you were very drunk, I know I already said that, sorry. But then you started shivering and I remembered that you'd been knocked out and I didn't know how bad it was or if you had concussion or something and I didn't think I should just leave and then you were having a bad dream and then – well you know what happened then." She babbled. He continued to glare at her and a deathly silence settled over them.

Not daring to make eye-contact she conjured a glass and filled it with water, silently handing it to him and counting it as a minor victory when he took it and drank greedily, filling it up once again with his own wand. They sat in the quiet together for a time and she listened to his breathing slowly return to normal.

"How are you feeling?" She asked him cautiously and immediately wished she'd kept her big mouth shut; Snape looked furious.

"That is none of concern you insufferable little girl. I'm sure you're very proud of yourself, how _noble _you must feel, leaving your idiotic _friends _in the Hospital Wing to come and fuss over the greasy git of the dungeons, how wonderfully virtuous of you. Well I'll tell you now Miss Granger, your attentions are neither wanted nor needed, you are nothing more than a self-important, self-righteous, unbearable know-it-all and if you don't get out of my quarters in the next 30 seconds I will put you in detention every night until you leave this infernal castle for good. 30 points from Gryffindor. Now GET OUT." He spat.

She looked up at him for a second, angry, tired tears stinging in her eyes and saw the tiny flash of regret pass over his scowling face, and she then she wasn't so angry. Of course this was how he reacted, he was _Snape. _He hated her, and that hate definitely wasn't entirely unjustified. Plus he was a Slytherin, they were famed for their ulterior motives; obviously he wasn't going to believe that she had genuinely been worried about him, and even if he did believe it, he would see it as a character flaw anyway. And of all the people to see him in the state he's been in, and witness his nightmare, he probably _hated_ that it was her; a 14 year old Gryffindor swot, best friend of Harry Potter; The–Boy-He-Hated-Beyond-All-Others.

"Yes Sir." She said, then stood and picked up her shoes from their spot next to the second armchair. She looked at him thoughtfully.

"I noticed last year that Madam Pomfrey keeps pain relief potion and a hangover-draught in her stores sir, that's rather curious don't you think?" He cocked his head to one side and with a somewhat grim smile, Hermione left and snuck back to the Hospital Wing, wondering just how bad Snape had found her attempt at being a Slytherin.

* * *

**So here's chapter 3! I found this one quite hard to write so it may get tweaked a bit over the next few days but I hope you think it's ok. As I said before the pace of posting will slow down at some point but at the minute it's like the story's desperate to get out of my head! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

_Text in italics is from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - J.K Rowling_

___Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus is the Hogwarts motto so all credit obviously to J.K Rowling_  


_**Text in bold and italics is from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - J.k Rowling**_

_Text after that in italics is just for emphasis ;)_

* * *

*SPOILER ALERT* Well not really.

Just in case you were wondering and I didn't make it as obvious as I was intending to, Snape was dreaming about when Sirius and James ambushed him after their OWL exam and he called Lily a "Mudblood". Some of speech is from Chapter 28 "Snape's worst memory" in Order of the Phoenix and some is from Chapter 33 "The Prince's tale" in Deathly Hallows. My reasoning was that the new events surrounding Lupin, Black and Pettigrew would stir up old memories and I'm thinking of saving the "werewolf incident" for a later chapter. Sorry for the rambling!


	4. Chapter 4

Brushing off Harry and Ron's probing questions once they were released from the Hospital Wing hadn't been easy. There was no way either of them would have understood why she'd gone to check on Snape and she had no intention of telling them anyway; what had transpired between herself and her Professor was private, even to her two best friends. Knowing them well, all she'd had to do in the end was mutter something about her time of the month and they'd both looked mildly queasy and changed the subject.

* * *

"_Er – Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin' … thought everyone would know by now … Professor Lupin's a werewolf, see? An' he was loose on the grounds las' night... He's packin' now, o' course." _Hagrid informed them as they stretched lazily by the lake.

_"He's packing?" said Harry, alarmed. "Why?"__"Leavin', isn' he?" said Hagrid, looking surprised that Harry had to ask. "Resigned firs' thing this mornin'. Says he can't risk it happenin again."_

_Harry scrambled to his feet._

_"I'm going to see him," he said to Ron and Hermione._

_"But if he's resigned -"_

_" - doesn't sound like there's anything we can do -"_

_"I don't care. I still want to see him. I'll meet you back here."_

Hermione sighed. It seemed as though Snape was back to his usual, vindictive self. Lupin wasn't to be blamed for the "werewolf incident" in Snape's sixth year, but although Hermione really liked and respected her Defence teacher, neglecting to take his potion last night had been beyond irresponsible. It didn't matter who he'd seen on that bloody map – even if it had been Merlin himself – it didn't justify him forgetting something so important; he was very lucky he hadn't bitten or killed anyone.

She wondered idly if Snape had taken a hangover-draught this morning, she rather hoped he had given the amount he'd had to drink, she didn't know a great deal about alcohol but she was fairly sure he'd had enough to knock out Buckbeak. That made her think of Sirius; she really didn't know what to make of _him_ now either.

* * *

Snape had been treating Harry very badly over the last week. He started to look a step towards insane every time he laid eyes on him, _a muscle twitched unpleasantly at the corner of_ his _thin mouth_ and _he was constantly flexing his fingers, as though itching to place them around Harry's throat._ He was treating her differently too. It wasn't something you would really notice unless it was specifically directed at you, and you were paying attention. She'd gone into the first Potions lesson with him after that night with no small amount of trepidation. Well, if she was being honest it had been more like facing Fluffy or the Basilisk all over again, but at first it had seemed as though he was treating her just the same as always. Then she started to notice him staring at her like she was absolute filth from behind his desk, he'd notice her looking and his face would twist into a smirk, as if he had some superior reason for eyeing her with such loathing. He was more critical of everything she did as well, though that wasn't a huge surprise, it was his staring that bothered her, it made her feel embarrassed and disgusting and humiliated and she couldn't quite fathom why.

Hermione would have liked to be angry at him for behaving so petulantly, she wanted to glare back at him and smirk in the knowledge that _she'd _seen him unhinged and _she'd _seen him drunk and _she'd _seen him miserable after a nightmare and _he _was the one who should feel embarrassed, but then that little noise of sadness he'd made would come back to her and all her anger would evaporate. It was a bit annoying really.

So all in all it was rather a relief when the term ended, she was sad to drop Muggle Studies but heaven knows she needed a normal timetable next year. She'd observed a few nights ago, as she lay in her bed unable to sleep and wondering if Snape was being plagued by more troubling dreams, that each year seemed to be rather packed with drama. They'd been the stone in first year, the chamber in second year and the rescue of an escaped convict who happened to be innocent but then tried to kill her friend's rat, who was really a fully grown man, this year. Things were happening at Hogwarts and she felt sure that more things were to come.

And then she was hurtling home on the Hogwarts Express, greeting her parents on the platform and settling back into the muggle world for a pleasantly uneventful summer….

* * *

**Sorry this chapter's a bit short and uneventful, this and the next one will probably be transitional chapters until the next significant moment between them, I may write the next chapter, or the one after from Snape's perspective so we know what's going on with him. I'll try and get the next one up tomorrow or Sunday to make up for this one being so short! **

**I can't decide whether I should have more scenes with Harry and Ron or stick to it focusing nearly solely on Hermione and Severus, I'll probably do a bit of a compromise but if anyone has any opinions on that I'd be grateful to hear them.**

**Thanks for reading and stay tuned :)**

* * *

_Text in italics from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by Queen J.K Rowling._

**Text after in italics is just for **_emphasis. __  
_


	5. Chapter 5

She felt a little bad not staying with her parents for the entire holidays, but going to the Quidditch Wold Cup really was a once in a lifetime opportunity, even if she wasn't particularly interested in the game itself. And it was good to get back to magic, her parents really were very supportive but she wasn't allowed to practice spells outside Hogwarts so she couldn't properly show them what she was learning, and even if she could she wasn't sure they'd quite understand; some things just don't translate.

It was amazing to see so much magic all at once, wizarding families from all around the globe in the same place. The stadium was incredible too and seated a hundred thousand, she didn't even care that the Malfoy's were there, the atmosphere was just too incredible. She didn't like the Veela; anything that could have that much power over hormone ridden males was dangerous, and since she was friends with two such males, they were doubly dangerous.

Victor Krum was hot. Wait, no he wasn't. He was _thin, dark and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. It was hard to believe he was only 18. _And already on a national team, impressive. The game itself was a blur of scarlet and green and brutality that really had no place in a sport.

* * *

She and Ginny had been fast asleep when Mr Weasley woke them. It was obvious that something was very wrong, the whole atmosphere had changed and she could hear _screams and the sound of people running. _Throwing a coat on over her nightclothes she dashed outside and was met by a horrible sight; there was a crowd of hooded figures, their faces masked, marching across the campsite. _High above them, floating along in mid-air, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. Two of the figures were very small. _Her stomach turned. It was _Mr Roberts, the campsite manager _and his family. They quickly headed towards the woods, Ron fell, Malfoy was there.

"_Granger, they're after __**muggles." **__Said Malfoy, _and her blood ran cold, whether it was fear or disgust she couldn't tell.

"_I'll bet you anything his Dad __**is **__one of that masked lot." Said Ron hotly._

"_Well, with any luck, the Ministry catch him!" Said Hermione fervently, _hating Malfoy and hating that she might be putting her friends in more danger, then, at the arrival of Winky she was struck by the injustice of the house elves as they settled further in the woods and waited.

Was what was happening at the campsite the beginning of something sinister? Hermione had a feeling that it might be, a group of wizards openly attacking muggles right under the nose of the Ministry of Magic was definitely not a good thing.

Suddenly i_t sounded as though someone was staggering toward their clearing. They waited, listening to the sounds of the uneven steps behind the dark trees. But the footsteps came to a sudden halt._

_"Hello?" called Harry. _

_There was silence. Harry got to his feet and peered around the tree,_ but he didn't appear to see anything.

_"Who's there?" he said._

_And then, without warning, the silence was rent by a voice unlike any they had heard in the wood; and it uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like a spell._

_"MORSMORDRE!"_

_And something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky._

_"What the -?" gasped Ron as he sprang to his feet again, staring up at the thing that had appeared._

_For a split second, _Hermione_ thought it was another leprechaun formation. Then _she_ realized that it was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation._

The Dark Mark. **His **mark. She looked at Harry fearfully, gripping her wand, suddenly half expecting to see You-Know-Who materialise before her and try to finish him off. She _had _to get him away from there, she _had _to keep Harry safe.

_"Who's there?" he called again._

_"Harry, come on, move!" Hermione seized the collar of his jacket and tugged him backward._

_"What's the matter?" Harry said._

_"It's the Dark Mark, Harry!" _She _moaned, pulling him as hard as she could. "You-Know-Who's sign!"_

_"Voldemort's - ?"_

_"Harry, come on!"_

_Ron was hurriedly scooping up his miniature Krum - the three of them started across the clearing - but before they had taken a few hurried steps, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding them. _

Oh God please not the hooded figures, please, please, please.

_Each of these wizards had his wand out, and every wand was pointing right at _herself_, Ron, and _Harry_._

_"DUCK!" Harry yelled._

_He seized _her and Ron_ and pulled them down onto the ground. _It was moments like this, when Harry seemed instinctively to know what to do that she could see the great wizard he was to become.

_"STUPEFY!" roared twenty voices - there was a blinding series of flashes and _Hermione_ felt the hair on _her _head ripple as though a powerful wind had swept the clearing. Jets of fiery red light _were_ flying over them from the wizards' wands, crossing one another, bouncing off tree trunks, rebounding into the darkness -_

_"Stop!" yelled a voice. "STOP! That's my son!"_

Oh thank heaven Mr Weasley was there. Mr Crouch tried to interrogate them but _none of the Ministry wizards apart from _him _seemed to think it remotely likely that Harry, Ron, or Hermione had conjured the skull. _In fact he seemed quite mad. Nearly as mad as Snape had been on the night they rescued Sirius, but where Snape had been furious in his madness, Crouch was twitchy in his. It was a rather strange comparison to make.

And then they were interrogating Winky. And she had Harry's wand. What on earth was going on?

_"You dropped it?" repeated Mr. Diggory in disbelief. "Is this a confession? You threw it aside after you conjured the Mark?" _He asked Harry.

_"Amos, think who you're talking to!" said Mr. Weasley, very angrily. "Is Harry Potter likely to conjure the Dark Mark?"_

_"Er - of course not," mumbled Mr. Diggory. "Sorry...carried away..."_

She didn't much like Mr Diggory. He didn't seem to mean any harm but he was rather proud and self-important. People whose mouths were faster than their brains were really quite irritating and the way he was speaking to that poor crying house elf was unacceptable.

_"It wasn't her!" said Hermione. She _was_ very nervous, speaking up in front of all these Ministry wizards, yet determined all the same, _she just couldn't cope with injustice_. "Winky's got a squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was much deeper!" She looked around at Harry and Ron, appealing for their support. "It didn't sound anything like Winky, did it?"_

_"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "It definitely didn't sound like an elf."_

_"Yeah, it was a human voice," said Ron, _and she felt a strong surge of warmth and affection for her boys, instantly backing her up in front of so many important people.

Then she gasped, _horrified, as a gigantic serpent-tongued skull erupted from the point where _Mr Diggory had cast prior incantato_, but it was a mere shadow of the green skull high above them; it looked as though it were made of thick gray smoke: the ghost of a spell. _Harry's wand had created the Dark Mark, this was very, very bad.

_"She might have picked it up anywhere...Winky?" Mr Weasley said kindly, turning to the elf, but she flinched as though he too was shouting at her. "Where exactly did you find Harry's wand?"_

_"I - I is finding it...finding it there, sir..." she whispered, "there...in the trees, sir."_

_"You see, Amos?" said Mr. Weasley. "Whoever conjured the Mark could have Disapparated right after they'd done it, leaving Harry's wand behind. A clever thing to do, not using their own wand, which could have betrayed them. And Winky here had the misfortune to come across the wand moments later and pick it up."_

Hermione felt a huge rush of affection for Mr Weasley, who loved muggles and was kind to house elves even though he was a pureblood and had been taught differently.

_"M-m-master..." Winky stammered, looking up at Mr. Crouch, her eyes brimming with tears. _

_Mr. Crouch stared back, his face somehow sharpened, each line upon it more deeply etched. There was no pity in his gaze._

_"I told her to remain in the tent. I told her to stay there while I went to sort out the trouble. And I find that she disobeyed me. This means clothes." He said slowly._

_"No!" shrieked Winky, prostrating herself at Mr. Crouch's feet. "No, master! Not clothes, not clothes!"_

_"But she was frightened!" Hermione burst out angrily, glaring at Mr. Crouch. "Your elf's scared of heights, and those wizards in masks were levitating people! You can't blame her for wanting to get out of their way!"__  
_

_"I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me," he said coldly. "I have no use for a servant who forgets what is due to her master, and to her master's reputation."_

_Winky was crying so hard that her sobs echoed around the clearing. There was a very nasty silence, which was ended by Mr. Weasley, who said quietly, "Well, I think I'll take my lot back to the tent, if nobody's got any objections. Amos, that wand's told us all it can - if Harry could have it back, please -"_

_"Come on, you three," He said. But _she _didn't want to move; her eyes were still upon the sobbing elf. "Hermione!" Mr. Weasley said, more urgently. She _reluctantly _turned and followed Harry and Ron out of the clearing and off through the trees._

_"What's going to happen to Winky?" said Hermione, the moment they had left the clearing._

_"I don't know," said Mr. Weasley._

_"The way they were treating her!" She said furiously. "Mr. Diggory, calling her 'elf' all the time...and Mr. Crouch! He knows she didn't do it and he's still going to sack her! He didn't care how frightened she'd been, or how upset she was - it was like she wasn't even human!"_

_"Well, she's not," said Ron.._

_"That doesn't mean she hasn't got feelings, Ron. It's disgusting the way -"_

_"Hermione, I agree with you," said Mr. Weasley quickly, beckoning her on, "but now is not the time to discuss elf rights. I want to get back to the tent as fast as we can."_

It wasn't until they were safely back in the tent, they'd exchanged stories with the other Weasleys and she'd taken in their various injuries that she realised how much danger they might have been in. It was a worrying thought. Death Eaters. Harming muggles for fun. The Dark Mark. Suddenly she longed for Hogwarts so much it felt like an ache inside her. It was true that her few years there hadn't been particularly carefree but there was a certain sense of security there, a feeling of safeness and old magic that always settled her when she tuned in.

_"So...whoever conjured the Dark Mark..." _she said _slowly, "were they doing it to show support for the Death Eaters, or to scare them away?"_

_"Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione," said Mr. Weasley. "But I'll tell you this...it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I'd be very surprised if the person who did it hadn't been a Death Eater once, even if they're not now..."_

Her brain felt fuzzy and confused as they went to back to their tent and she slipped into an uneasy sleep, more eager than ever to get back to her school.

* * *

**So here's another chapter :)**

_Text in italics from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K Rowling._


	6. Chapter 6

All things considered, Severus Snape hadn't had a good couple of months. Or a good year really. When he'd found out that Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban, he'd felt a fission of fear run straight through him, followed almost immediately by the hot, angry swell of a hatred so intense he felt his toes curl in his boots. He hated the fact that his first emotion had been fear almost as much as he hated Black himself. He knew he had nothing to fear from the swine anymore, in fact he'd probably rather enjoy duelling him and knocking him on his arse, making him scream and beg for mercy. He'd still believed then that it was Black who betrayed Lily to the Dark Lord, but even now he knew it had been Pettigrew, the loathing wasn't much less intense, it was just on behalf of himself now, rather than the woman he loved. He'd also believed that Black had escaped for the sole purpose of killing the boy he was sworn to protect, the news hadn't made for the best start of the school year. Potter had a knack of walking straight into trouble and he'd known how vigilant he would have to be to try and keep the boy safe.

Even then he hadn't really succeeded, admittedly it hadn't been his fault Potter and his little friends had stunned him but it still turned his insides cold to think what might have happened that night if Black _had _been out to kill to boy. He knew he had a deeply ingrained panic response to Black, and would have to Potter senior if he was still alive; you couldn't go through all those years of associating their appearance with pain and humiliation without developing some sort of a conditioned response, but knowing that didn't make it any less embarrassing. He'd felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach the first time he'd laid eyes on Potter junior, he'd grabbed straight for his wand and then immediately wanted to kick himself for being scared of an 11 year old.

Then Dumbledore had hired the werewolf. He'd been furious about that. He didn't actually hate Lupin, but Merlin knows he's never stopped the Marauders from torturing him and he didn't trust him at all. He'd hardly wanted to risk Black having an ally inside the school. And it had turned out that Lupin did help Black even if he hadn't been guilty, Lupin hadn't had any absolute proof of Black's innocence and running around on a full moon without taking his Wolfsbane potion was unforgivable in Snape's eyes. The transformed werewolf was one of his greatest fears even after so much time had passed; coming face to face with one was not something you forgot in a hurry. Plus there had been the incident with Longbottom's Boggart, how Lupin had enjoyed that, he'd brought it up in the Staffroom nearly every night for two weeks. Being humiliated in such a way, in front of the students no less and by someone who had been a continuous witness to his … dealings with Potter, Black and Pettigrew was not something he'd found particularly amusing. Then on top of that he'd been criticised by the rest of the staff for being unable to laugh at the incident.

To cap off a shitty year he'd managed to completely lose control of himself, and get everything completely wrong, humiliating himself even further in front of the remaining two thirds of the Marauders, the Golden Gryffindors and the Minister for Magic himself, even if he was a bumbling idiot. And then he'd gotten legless right in front of Granger. The thought of her sent a trickle of unease down his spine. He couldn't begin to fathom why she'd come after him, pounded on his door like a harridan, let him invade her mind so he could see what really happened and then stayed with him in his drunken stupor and woken him from his worst nightmare … well, worst memory.

Dumbledore still hadn't even had the courtesy to tell him the truth of it so he didn't know why on earth she'd bothered. Dumbledore. That night had created further tension between himself and the Headmaster. Maybe he was paranoid and overreacting, but he couldn't help but feel as if this just proved that even after all this time, he still wasn't trusted, still wasn't favoured, still was just the little Slytherin with a bad temper and an unhealthy knowledge of the Dark Arts. _**You disgust me**__. _He vaguely remembered Granger's uneasy expression when he'd drunkenly voiced his feelings on the subject, he had no doubt that she had nothing but respect for Dumbledore so her expression was enough proof of the matter to him.

"You're obviously not alright." She'd said to him, and she'd been accurate as always. He'd been exhausted and angry and betrayed by one of the only people he cared about enough for it to hurt. She'd been the only person who apparently cared enough to come and check on him and that realisation had been more depressing than he'd expected. Being in her head had been uncomfortable too. Not because she'd resisted, but because she'd welcomed him into her mind, she'd been relieved he was there. That was not something he felt very often, from anyone. What was more disconcerting was that he'd actually felt her guilt and her concern for him, that was something only an extremely accomplished Occlumens could fake and he was positive the girl wasn't one. That meant her feelings had been genuine and for the life of him he couldn't understand it. She'd sat with him while he'd drank as well and he hadn't been prepared for how grateful he was for the company. Not _her _company obviously, the girl was insufferable, but she hadn't spoken much and it had been nice not be alone for once. He was perfectly aware of how lonely he was, and it was mostly by choice; he was far better off by himself. The feeling of unwanted gratitude for the blasted girl had only increased when she'd stopped him from relieving the entirety of that dreadful day once again, handed him a glass of water and sat with him in the quiet until he'd felt calm once more.

He'd had to throw her out in the end of course, his words had been harsh but he'd had little choice; he could hardly have the girl thinking she was on familiar terms with him and he couldn't stand her anyway. It was the disappointed look she'd given him that had been the most unsettling thing though, like she'd expected better from him. Indeed he'd expected her to judge him and be haughty and condemning, admittedly she had quite obviously disapproved of the firewhiskey, but other than that she's seemed worrying neutral about the whole incident and almost understanding. Now he had live with the prickle of humiliation every time he laid eyes on Granger, she didn't have appeared to have told Potter and Weasley but that was sure not to last, and then they'd all be laughing at the pathetic, drunk, stupid, greasy bat of the dungeons. He ground his teeth. He'd tried glaring at her, giving her his ugliest stares in the hope she'd be scared or angry and everything would return to normal but instead she just looked back at him, something frighteningly like empathy on her face, then return to whatever she was doing. He didn't like it one bit, the whole thing was immeasurably disquieting.

And now there was a group of Death Eaters who'd marched right through the World Cup stadium, openly toying with muggles and someone had conjured the Dark Mark over the woods. All of this right in front the Ministry of Magic. He was sure that the Death Eaters weren't presently connected to the Dark Lord and most of them would fear his return more than most, for they were the followers who had lied and betrayed their Master to avoid Azkaban. Still, it made him feel incredibly uneasy and, though he was sure it was purely psychological, or hoped it was purely psychological, the faint outline of the Dark Mark on his left forearm was starting to itch occasionally.

That terrified him.

* * *

**And here's chapter 6. I originally wrote this and the last chapter together but I got a little carried away and it seemed to go into two chapters quite naturally. I found writing from Snape's perspective quite difficult so I hope I've managed to do him justice. Hope these two make up for the previous short chapter too ;) **

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

_**Text in bold italics from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - J.K Rowling**_


	7. Chapter 7

Well the journey back to Hogwarts hadn't been the smoothest of operations what with Malfoy, the weather, Peeves and the Head of her own house nearly strangling her. The three of them slipped and skidded over to the Great Hall. It was when she entered that she felt the rush of warmth and happiness that her return always brought her, seeing the golden plates, goblets and the hundreds of candles floating in the air, it was all so endearingly familiar. They made their way to the Gryffindor table and sat down. Hermione found herself immediately seeking out her Potions Professor on the staff table. There he was, still hook-nosed, still sallow-skinned and still greasy-haired , why then, did her stomach jolt at laying eyes on him? It was surely because she was nervous as to what her reception from him would be, he really did hate her. Harry had noticed her looking.

"Where's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" She said quickly. They all scanned the table and there was no one new sitting there, Hermione felt a frisson of unease.

* * *

She watched the sorting with a detached sort or interest, rolling her eyes at Ron's desperation for food but with an overall fondness that she felt for both of the boys. But particularly for Ron. Or not. Feelings were tricky sometimes.

She wasn't entirely sure why the issue with the house elves bothered her quite so much but something about their complete submission, their unappreciation and their mistreatment by so many wizards really set her nerves on edge. She just couldn't cope with _injustice._ It was the way everyone just disregarded their rights that really did it though.

*"Slave labour." Said Hermione, breathing hard through her nose. "That's what made this dinner. _Slave labour_."* And she wouldn't eat another bite, not until she had a plan.

* * *

Dumbledore had just begun explaining why there would be no Quidditch this year when *there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black travelling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swivelled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Hermione gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, it looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye - and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."*

Hermione's first thought was that the poor man was in no fit state to teach. Her second thought was that she found him a little attractive. Her third thought was that Harry and Ron had been right all along and she truly _was _mental.

Then she noticed the way Professor Snape was staring at him. He still looked relatively impassive but there was obvious dislike in his expression and something else she couldn't quite identify, something that she would have thought was fear if it had been anyone else, but it made her think that Snape's dislike may have nothing to do with Moody being the new Defence teacher.

*"It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year." The Headmaster was saying.

"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly* and Hermione felt a smile erupt onto her face; she had really missed this.

Dumbledore began to explain the tournament to them and she felt a frisson of trepidation again, maybe she was just getting paranoid but any event that had needed to be stopped because of a high death toll did not sound like a good idea. At least you had to be of age to compete; that ruled out Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, even the Weasley twins and she relaxed marginally and dared to hope, if only for a second, that this year's drama may not be centred around her and her best friends.

* * *

She was glad to make her way sleepily to her dormitory, once upstairs she decided to begin forming a plan as to how to deal with the house elves; it was clear no one else was going to bother. Sitting in her four poster making notes, it was comforting to hear Lavender and Parvati's idle chatter, she wasn't particularly close to them but they were part of the scenery and familiar in a way that was both a comfort and, at times, rather annoying. Eventually she settled into her bed and allowed herself to smile and feel the tingle of excitement down her spine at the prospect of getting back to her lessons tomorrow. She really did love Hogwarts.

* * *

**Hermione and the boys having a drama free year - as if! Sorry this chapters quite sort again, I'm useless at keeping their lengths consistent. The next chapter should be much longer so stay tuned. Thanks for reading!**

**Text in between the two ** is taken from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K Rowling. Thought I'd try this instead of italics ;) **


	8. Chapter 8

The first few days back hadn't been particularly eventful, Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts were sure to be trouble though.

Moody turning Malfoy into a ferret had been really, quite excellent, although Hermione did disapprove of using Transfiguration as a punishment; it had been lucky Professor McGonagall showed up when she did. There was something the ex-Aurour had said though, he'd told Malfoy he used to know his Father, the way he said it certainly implied that he knew Mr Malfoy from his days working in the Magical Law Enforcement Office, it wasn't a huge jump therefore to assume that he'd been a Death Eater, or at least caught up in the Dark Arts in some way. That hadn't come as a huge surprise. It was what he'd said about Snape that had been unsettling.

*"Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"

"Another old friend," Moody had growled. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape..."*

She's heard the thinly veiled threat in his voice and it chilled her blood. He was surely implying that Snape had been a Death Eater too… No. There was no proof, she was allowing her imagination and fear to overpower her logic. Funny really, ever since that night when she'd seen another side to the Potions Master, she didn't seem to be able to be all that logical where he was concerned.

* * *

The first Potions lesson of the year hadn't actually been too bad, Snape had appeared to have stopped glaring at her quite so much which was a welcomed relief although he did *seem to have attained new levels of vindictiveness over the summer and he gave Neville detention for melting yet another cauldron. Neville returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to disembowel a barrel full of horned toads.

"You know why Snape's in such a foul mood, don't you?" said Ron to Harry.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Moody."

It was common knowledge Snape had disliked all of their previous Dark Arts teachers, and shown it - but he seemed strangely wary of displaying overt animosity to Mad-Eye Moody. Indeed, whenever the two of them were together - at mealtimes, or when they passed in the corridors – it seemed that Snape was avoiding Moody's eye, whether magical or normal.

"I reckon Snape's a bit scared of him, you know," Harry said thoughtfully* and Hermione's head snapped up to stare at Harry. When had he become so insightful? She'd been coming to the same conclusion herself and she'd been watching the pair of them like a hawk, morbid curiosity overweighing her sense of caution. Those two definitely had history.

* * *

Their first lesson with Moody had certainly been a spectacle. The image of him smiling at Ron came floating to the front of her mind, he'd looked almost grotesque but she'd felt that slight twinge of attraction again and hated it. Then he'd started talking about the Unforgivables and she'd forgotten everything else except the look on Neville's face when he'd seen the Cruciartus Curse in action; he looked so utterly horrified she'd wanted to march him straight back to the Common Room and make him drink tea and eat chocolate until he forgot all about the twitching spider.

And now here she was, lying in bed, not sleeping, but brooding about the less-than-supportive reception to S.P.E.W and Sirius' intriguing reply.

*Harry -  
I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumours that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore - they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is.  
I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry.  
Sirius*

What signs was Dumbledore reading that everyone else was ignoring? Could he mean the Death Eater presence at the Quidditch World Cup and the Dark Mark? The missing Ministry employee? In combination with Harry's dream about You-Know-Who, Hermione was worried. She turned over in her bed and decided to concentrate on furthering S.P.E.W instead of contemplating on more sinister things. One thing was obvious though; Sirius was worried too.

* * *

The next few weeks passed in a haze of mental Defence lessons, constant talk of the Triwizard Tournament and throwing herself into her S.P.E.W campaign; refusing to be deterred. Before she knew it, it was the 30th of October and they were gathered in the Entrance Hall to welcome the students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Snape looked particularly sour-faced, she noted with interest, he looked exhausted as well, and slightly agitated, but then all the teachers had been lately. He turned and glared at her so she quickly looked away, not wanting to trigger his filthy stares once more.

*"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!" Dumbledore called.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick - or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks - was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid...it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey.

Dennis's guess was closer...As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.*

Madame Maxine was huge. There was no other way to describe her. Hermione was used to Hagrid, so really, seeing another huge person shouldn't have come as such a shock … but it did. Then before she knew what was happening a *ship rose out of the water of the lake, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.*

The Durmstrang students looked mean as they approached but she tried not to judge; Durmstrang did have a bit of reputation for its affiliation with the Dark Arts.

*"Dumbledore!" a man called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd.*

Hermione instantly didn't like him, she was loathe to form opinions of people before she really had any basis for that opinion, but in this case she really couldn't help it. She glanced back over at Professor Snape and almost did a double take; he was staring at Karkaroff with a look of pure hatred. It was different somehow to the looks he gave to Harry, more aggressive and formidable. She could only hope that he _never _looked at her like that; she'd be running for the hills. Suddenly he seemed to notice himself and his expression quickly faded back to the look of bored indifference he usually sported. It was quite an impressive change in such a short space of time…

* * *

*I don't believe it!" Ron said, in a stunned voice, as the Hogwarts students filed back up the steps behind the party from Durmstrang. "Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!"

"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," said Hermione,* firmly quashing the flutter of excitement she'd felt at seeing him, and regarding the frantic sixth-year girls with distain.

She felt a totally irrational swell of jealously when one of the girls from Beauxbatons managed to turn Ron purple just by speaking but she quickly quashed that too. God her hormones must be all over the place at the minute, it wasn't even like she fancied Ron. He was kind and funny, and good-looking in a sort of boy-next-door way. Okay so maybe she fancied him a little bit, but it was natural surely; she was watching him grow up and mature, plus he wasn't the sort of, brother figure that Harry had become.

*"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways.. their magical prowess - their daring - their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."*

* * *

As they were making their way to bed, they ran into the Headmaster from Durmstrang. *Karkaroff froze. He turned his head back to look at Harry and stared at him as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster, the students from Durmstrang came to a halt too. Karkaroff's eyes moved slowly up Harry's face and fixed upon his scar. The Durmstrang students were staring curiously at Harry too.

"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," said a growling voice from behind them.

Professor Karkaroff spun around. Mad-Eye Moody was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang headmaster.

The colour drained from Karkaroff's face. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over him.

"You!" he said, staring at Moody as though unsure he was really seeing him.

"Me," said Moody grimly. "And unless you've got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."*

Karkaroff almost ran from the castle. Shit,another Death Eater? She thought madly, then quickly shut off her train of thought. There was no point panicking every time Moody was rude to someone.

* * *

Hermione felt as though the whole world stopped when Harry's name came out of the Goblet.

*The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it - the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"*

And everyone cheered and clapped and it had been fine. Great even. Then *the fire in the goblet had turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out -

"Harry Potter."

And that was when everything just … stopped. All she could hear the thundering in her lungs as adrenaline coursed through her.

_No no no no no no no._

She turned to Harry in shock and confusion and panic. He was sitting there looking as frozen as she felt.

*"I didn't put my name in," Harry said blankly. "You know I didn't."*

She opened her mouth to respond but uttered no sound. She was terrified. Death Eaters, the Dark Mark, Professor Moody, Bertha Jorkins and now this. Shit. Shit something bad was going on.

*At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.

"Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," She whispered, giving Harry a slight push.*

And he walked down the Hall with hundreds of eyes on him, and disappeared through the door. Hermione felt about a million times worse when she couldn't see him anymore. What the bloody hell was going on?

* * *

She cornered him with toast first thing the next morning and was shocked that Dumbledore, well, that anyone was allowing him to compete; there was something so obviously wrong. She felt awful telling him about Ron but she'd known from the moment she'd seen Ron's face that he was jealous of Harry, really it had only been a matter of time until he freaked out, what with his brothers and all. It certainly was bad timing though – Harry was going to need all the help he could get.

Hermione felt a little of her anxiety ease when Harry wrote to Sirius; at least one grown up was clued in to what was going on and was exclusively on Harry's side. She spent the next few days sat in between the boys feeling extremely uncomfortable and making vague attempts at a normal conversation. It wasn't particularly enjoyable.

Snape seemed to be punishing Harry viciously for becoming Hogwarts champion, he really was being so awful to him that the dislike he'd felt for him before, which had mostly dissipated after the Sirius rescue, was slowly starting to seep back into her mind. She's managed to get Harry through one lesson by repeatedly whispering "ignore him, ignore him, ignore him." But she wasn't sure how many more lessons he could cope with before completely losing his head.

* * *

He actually lost his head rather spectacularly the very next week. She didn't blame him of course; the POTTER STINKS badges really were pathetic and Malfoy had been even more vile than usual.

*"Funnunculus!" Harry yelled.

"Densaugeo!" screamed Malfoy.

Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles - Harry's hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy's hit her. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up - Hermione, panicked and clutched her mouth, feeling something forcing its way out.

"Hermione!"

Ron had hurried forward to see what was wrong and dragged her hand away from her face. She knew it wasn't a pretty sight. Her front teeth - already larger than average - were now growing at an alarming rate; her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin - panic-stricken, she let out a terrified cry.

"And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice she recognised instantly.

Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamoured to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain."

"Potter attacked me, sir -"

"We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted.

"- and he hit Goyle - look -"

Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi.

"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly.

"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!"

Hermione was forced to show Snape her teeth, they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back.

Snape looked coldly at her, then said, "I see no difference."*

She stared at him in horror. How dare he? She felt hideous. She felt betrayed. She felt immeasurably hurt but most of all she felt stupid. So bloody fucking stupid for thinking he might not hate her anymore. For thinking he might have some sort of respect for her after what had happened between them. For thinking he was just another flawed but decent human being.

*Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight.*

As if _he _had the right to make fun of _her _teeth. Fuck him. Bastard. Slimy greasy git. Black ugly bat of the Dungeons. She _hated_ him. She _loathed_ him.

* * *

**Oh dear Severus. **

**And this chapter is much longer than the others. I think it's fair to say at this point that the chapter lengths WILL NOT be consistent. I can only apologise ;)**

**I'm sorry if anyone disapproves of the swearing but this story is rated "M" for a reason; there will be swearing (at least in Hermione's head and I should imagine Snape will do some serious swearing at some point) and there will be sex. **

**Also **SPOILER ALERT** Hermione won't be losing her virginity to Snape. I'm not gonna make her into a slut or anything but I want her to be relatively experienced and confident when they finally get together - obviously I'm not gonna write loads about her other partner/s though! I hope this won't make Hermione seem too out of character to some of you but that's just how I want to write it and I am sorry if that's not how you'd like it to go. I hope you'll read anyway.**

**x**

* * *

*Text in between these things* from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by the amazing J.K Rowling. Queen.


	9. Chapter 9

They'd made Harry face a dragon. A _dragon. _The whole world had gone mad. The teachers had failed them. _Dumbledore_ had failed them. They let _students _into an enclosure with dragons. They let a 14 year old boy face a fifty-foot, fire-breathing, man-eating monstrosity.

Waiting to see if Harry's firebolt was coming had probably been the longest and most traumatic few minutes of Hermione's entire life. They'd had no plan B. She'd seemed to have developed a strange form of bifocal vision; all she could focus on was that awful monster and her best friend's terrified face. Then she'd heard the broom speeding through the air, and once Harry was on it she could finally draw in a breath. He was amazing on that broom. He didn't die. Then Harry and Ron were friends again. And she hadn't been the least bit ashamed when she'd burst into tears.

* * *

But now she couldn't sleep and she'd felt too restless to stay in her dormitory listening to Lavender and Parvati's gentle snores, so here she was; under her hasty, first attempts at a Disillusionment Charm, sat on the floor by a huge arched window at 3:30am. She'd been there for the better part of an hour, looking out the window and trying to process her tangled feelings and the events of the last few days. She truly realised now just how much danger Harry was in. Someone was trying to kill him. She was sure about that. You-Know-Who was behind it. She was sure about that. But who was operating nearby, who had put Harry's name in that Goblet? Karkaroff had been a Death Eater, but for some reason she didn't think it was him.

She'd initially thought by Moody's tone, when he spoke to the Durmstrang Headmaster that he'd been a Death Eater, and it turned out she'd been right. Did that mean Malfoy's Dad was a Death Eater? Was Snape a Death Eater? No. No, she trusted him. God knows why. She'd had time over the past few days to calm down, get over the humiliation he'd made her suffer and think about her feelings for the Potions Master properly. She didn't hate him. What he'd said to her had been unnecessary and cruel though. She hadn't expected him to be kind to her, to treat her with the same respect she'd shown him, to be civil even, but the way he'd looked at her so coldly and said *"I see no difference."* It had been beyond awful. His eyes had been glittering with silent malice and amusement and she'd just wanted to drop dead. He could have just sent her off to the Hospital Wing; there had been no need to say that. But she didn't hate him. She didn't regret the decision she'd made last year to go after him. She needed to remember that he wasn't secretly a nice person; he was Snape. She didn't particularly feel anything for him anymore. He was a human. He was her Potions Professor. That was it.

Hermione had also come to a vague conclusion about her confusing attraction for Professor Moody and Victor Krum. It wasn't their looks (especially in Moody's case) but they both had a certain set of characteristics. They were both very brave, very strong and were the best in their fields, they were also rather isolated and solitary. Were they lonely? A little vulnerable even? Moody was thought by many to be mad. He didn't seem to have any friends, probably because he'd gotten so paranoid. Krum was rather surly. He seemed to spend most of his time alone in the Library, stalked by obnoxious girls who were only interested in him because he was famous. There was definitely a theme.

Death Eaters at the World Cup, the Dark Mark, Harry's dream, Professor Moody possibly being attacked, Bertha Jorkins disappearing in Albania where You-Know-Who was thought to be, Harry's name coming out of the Goblet of Fire. Tears stung in her eyes. These events were leading up to something very bad and it was all centred around her best friend. Dumbledore and the teachers were just letting it happen. How was she supposed to keep Harry safe? Her thoughts swirled round in her head. After a frantic few weeks desperately trying to find a way past a dragon, then manically practising Summoning Charms till the early hours of the morning in the hope of keeping her best friend alive, then the quite frankly worrying adrenaline high she'd been on during the First Task, sleep was not going to be coming anytime soon. How was she supposed to relax? They had that bloody Golden Egg to worry about next.

* * *

Severus Snape couldn't sleep, but that wasn't really a surprise to him. Truth be told he rarely ever slept well and what with Death Eaters, one of which he had to share a table with every day, mad ex-Aurors with a grudge, Potter in a deadly tournament and the Mark on his arm now darker than it had been for over ten years, he had rather too much on his mind to even bother trying to go to bed when he felt like this. He was restless, and that's how he found himself wandering the castle at well past 3 in the morning. He rubbed his left forearm scowling. The implications of the Dark Mark growing darker were very unpleasant. He'd shown it to Dumbledore a few weeks ago, before one of his lessons it had started to burn a little and he'd panicked. If he was honest with himself, he should have shown it to the Headmaster before then, but acknowledging its change was something he'd wanted to put out off for as long as possible.

And now Potter was in that God-awful Tournament. He'd truly believed the idiotic boy had put his own name in the Goblet until he'd seen his face when he emerged from the Champions tent. He'd looked overwhelmed, terrified and oddly let down, as if he couldn't quite believe they were letting him take part. They _shouldn't _be letting him take part. He was a child and a stupid one at that if he didn't have his little sidekick whispering in his ear. He'd been sitting unfortunately close to the Gryffindors for the First Task and had witnessed Granger clawing at her own face hard enough to leave marks. Granger. God that girl was a pain.

"I see no difference" His own words floated into the forefront of his mind. He shouldn't really have said that. It had been right after his meeting with Dumbledore and he'd been stressed and tired and downright terrified and he just hadn't had the patience for their petty squabbles. Insulting her like that had just seemed to slip out; borne of a pathetic attempt to make himself feel better, or more in control at least, by making someone else feel bad. If it had been anyone else it may have even worked, or at least wouldn't have had the opposite effect. She'd looked up at him with those ridiculous teeth and huge brown eyes and look horrified and hurt yes, but also, rather betrayed. It had felt like that look of disappointment she'd given him last year; like she thought he was better than that. Well, he wasn't and at least now she knew. But he had felt a smidgen of remorse – well, maybe not proper remorse – but a touch of slight regret perhaps, for treating her like that when she'd been half decent to him, whatever her motivations had been.

Severus had even been slightly more civil to her in their Potions lessons since but she hadn't seemed to notice. Indeed, he'd expected her to glare at him and the hatred he'd seen momentarily on her face before, to now be entirely obvious when she looked at him. But she didn't and it wasn't. She just seemed entirely indifferent to him and he found that rather unsettling; people he couldn't predict were dangerous. Why didn't she hate him?

The Dark Lord would hate him. He didn't want the Dark Lord to return. He didn't want to return to the Dark Lord. All thoughts eventually led back to this. He didn't want the Dark Lord to return.

Something shimmering slightly caught his eye at the end of the corridor so he removed his wand from his sleeve and moved silently closer. A student. At 3:30am. In a random corridor in the school. Under a pretty poor Disillusionment Charm. He rolled his eyes and swept towards whoever it was, ready to berate them and their stupidity. Raising his wand he uttered the counter-charm. His eyes widened in surprise as none other than Hermione Granger was revealed before him.

"Miss Granger, what on earth are doing _out of bed_ at 4am?" He hissed.

* * *

It was easily 4am by now and Hermione had started to feel sleepy. She'd been about to go back to bed when she'd heard footsteps and frozen. She'd felt the trickle of warmth over her head and realised she wasn't Disillusioned anymore. She actually felt too tired to panic. Then…

"Miss Granger, what on earth are you doing _out of bed _at 4am?"

Shit. Professor Snape. Shit. She'd been staring quite determinedly at her slippers but now she looked up at him, trying to gauge how angry he was. He didn't look angry. That was pretty scary in itself. Why didn't he look angry? Wait, why was _he _out of bed at 4am? He didn't look like he'd even been to bed yet. Merlin he looked exhausted. The perpetual dark shadows under his eyes looked vivid in contrast to his sallow skin. He looked awful. She felt a deep pang of sympathy for the man. Was he unable to sleep because of nightmares? Or was his head too full of worry and wonderings as well?

Oh.

She still hadn't answered him. They were just staring at each other. Was he studying her appearance as she was with his? She really should say something.

"I couldn't sleep sir." Hermione said, proud of how steady her voice was.

"That much is obvious. Why are you not in bed?" He drawled, his voice soft in the quiet of the night.

"I'd been lying there for so long, there didn't seem much point staying in bed sir. My head was too full for the dormitories."

"Your head was too full for the dormitories?" He smirked at her. She found she didn't mind.

"Yes sir. I was just thinking about all that's happened. The Death Eaters, the Dark Mark, Bertha Jorkins going miss-" She stopped abruptly. When she'd mentioned the Dark Mark her Professor's right hand had immediately grabbed his left forearm and she'd seen the panic on his face. Her brain was trying to tell her something.

Oh.

The Death Eaters were branded with the Dark Mark … on their left forearms.

Oh.

She looked up at him once more, her gaze had been fixed on his arm, and he was looking back at her, every bit as defiant as when he'd been getting royally drunk.

Oh.

She should be terrified. She was alone in the middle of the night with a Death Eater. She was muggleborn. But Professor Snape wouldn't hurt her. She knew it. She didn't know how she knew it but she just did. He wouldn't hurt her. And anyway, Dumbledore knew everything; he must know Snape was a Death Eater. He employed him anyway. He trusted him.

"Moody coming out of retirement and now Harry has to compete in the Triwizard Tournament." She finished, not taking her eyes off his face. He visibly relaxed. Why was he less scary when she was alone with him?

"Something very bad is going to happen, isn't it?" She asked him, and all the uncertainty and desperation and the need for _answers _from someone, anyone who might actually have a clue about what was going on came crashing down on her like a physical weight.

He was just staring at her, his expression not angry, or overtly negative, but other than that unfathomable. She stared right back, willing him to give her a straight answer. He sighed and sank to the ground in front of her. It was such an utterly un-Snape-ish thing to do she had to force herself not to gape at him. Professor Snape was sitting on the floor with her.

What? Her mind thought incoherently.

"Miss Granger." Snape said, forcing her to concentrate. "I should be putting you in detention, taking a huge amount of house points and marching you straight to Professor McGonagall."

She paled.

"However … I can … understand why you are unable to sleep. I will answer your question as honestly as I can on one condition. You seem to have made a certain … realisation about me, about my past. Rumours which are based on no actual evidence are easily denied, however, it would make my life somewhat easier if I didn't have a school full of ignorant dunderheads making wild accusations-"

"I won't say anything Professor," she dared to interrupt, wanting to take this rare opportunity to reassure him, wishing he could trust her even a fraction as much as she trusted him, "not even to Harry and Ron." She doubted she would have said anything to the boys anyway; she loved them, but they hated Professor Snape enough already, she had no intention to be the reason his life became a nightmare as it undoubtedly would, if over 600 hundred students thought he was a Death Eater. Knew he was Death Eater. He _is _a Death Eater. _Was _a Death Eater? Dumbledore trusts him. She had a hundred questions she wanted to ask him but daren't push her luck. Why was he treating her like this? Had he expected her to go screaming to the Headmaster?

"Very well." His expression had slipped into one of distain at the mention of her friends but now looked rather more neutral. He looked much better neutral.

"We, that is, myself, Dumbledore and some of the other teachers here, believe that, as you say 'something very bad is going to happen' yes. That does not mean that it concerns you however. We are aware of the signs and we are prepared."

Her whole world was spinning. Confirmation of her fears. Something very bad was going to happen. Snape was a Death Eater.

"You-Know-Who?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"It appears likely." He answered, his voice was its usual calm, deep tones but she thought she caught a glimpse of unease, and maybe even fear around his eyes.

"He'll return?"

"We always knew he would return."

"Yes sir."

They lapsed into a silence that wasn't totally uncomfortable. Hermione rather got the impression he was giving her time to process what she'd learnt. Why he was being so … cordial … at least for Snape was a mystery.

Oh.

"Sir, when he returns, will you run or will you go back to him?" She gasped. She saw his momentary look of hurt, rapidly followed by fury and quickly continued. "For Professor Dumbledore I mean sir?"

He stared at her again, a crease between his brows.

"You ask too many questions." He answered shortly.

"I'm an insufferable know-it-all sir." She replied, feeling a smile creeping onto her face; this was probably the weirdest moment of her life.

"Yes you are." His voice held no malice and she couldn't help herself. She smiled at him. She smiled despite all that had happened, all that she had learnt about him and all that was to come. He was a Death Eater, but she didn't hate him. She trusted him. Dumbledore trusted him.

He'd been watching her looking just as entirely bewildered as she felt. Then the exhaustion kicked in and her smile became a gaping yawn that left her feeling dead on her feet. When she opened her tired eyes again, Snape was back on his feet looking every bit the terrifying Potions Professor.

"Get to bed this instant Miss Granger. 5 points from Gryffindor." He snapped.

She nearly started grinning at him like an idiot again for taking such a small number of points for such a large offence. Hermione walked softly back to her bed feeling dazed by the whole encounter. God that man was confusing.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Hope they both still seem in character. Snape won't be going all soft on us don't worry but in this scene, his slight guilt over what he said to Hermione in combination with his tiredness and stress allowed him to be a little nicer. **

**Has Snape redeemed himself? Hmmm.**

**I'd also briefly like to thank those who have reviewed anonymously or as guests - I can't respond individually but thank you so much for your feedback. And to everyone, reviews are the most exciting things ever so thanks to all who take the time!**

***text between these things* from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.**


	10. Chapter 10

Snape treated her exactly the same as before their late night meeting. So much so in fact, that she kept wondering if she'd made the whole thing up. But deep down she knew she hadn't, it had happened, Snape had levelled with her and it had been amazing. Even now she thought he might be being slightly less critical of her in their lessons together, although she couldn't be sure. He was a Death Eater. The fact that she wasn't overly horrified by that fact was rather unsettling. She still trusted him for some reason. Hermione desperately wanted to know why he had joined You-Know-Who in the first place, but she didn't have a death wish; Snape was acting as though that night never happened and so she would do the same, however much she didn't want to.

* * *

Going to see the house elves in the kitchens had been enlightening. Meeting Dobby, seeing his obvious happiness and affection for Harry, and Winky in her misery, how anyone could think they were lesser beings was beyond her. They so obviously had complex feelings and emotions and they deserved to be paid and respected and treated as equals! She was _not _giving up on S.P.E.W. It didn't matter what anyone else thought.

* * *

*The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continued desire to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at its best this Christmas. When the decorations went up, they were the most stunning she had yet seen inside the school. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armour had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them. It was quite something to hear "O Come, All Ye Faithful" sung by an empty helmet that only knew half the words. Several times, Filch the caretaker had to extract Peeves from inside the armour, where he had taken to hiding, filling in the gaps in the songs with lyrics of his own invention, all of which were very rude.*

Truth be told she hadn't been looking forward to the Yule Ball much at all until Victor Krum asked her. He'd just walked over to her table in the Library, introduced himself, as though he needed to, then asked her. At first she'd just stared at him, half wondering if he was talking to the person behind her. Then when she'd finally realised he really was actually asking her to go, with him, to the Yule Ball, well, she did what any self-respecting girl would do in the same situation. She turned bright red, stammered an acceptance, squealed a little once she was alone, then furiously started planning her outfit.

It was crazy, out of everyone in Hogwarts, and all those who came from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, Victor Krum, Triwizard Champion, Quidditch star, the boy she'd found strangely attractive from the first moment she saw him, had asked _her _to the ball. Oh it was good day.

* * *

*"Hermione, Neville's right - you are a girl..." Ron said as she walked into the Common Room.

"Oh well spotted," she said acidly.

"Well - you can come with one of us!"

"No, I can't," snapped Hermione.

"Oh come on," he said impatiently, "we need partners, we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has..."

"I can't come with you," she said, now blushing, "because I'm already going with someone."

"No, you're not!" said Ron. "You just said that to get rid of Neville!"

"Oh did I?" Her eyes flashed dangerously. "Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!"

Ron stared at her. Then he grinned again.

"Okay, okay, we know you're a girl," he said. "That do? Will you come now?"

"I've already told you!" She said very angrily. "I'm going with someone else!"*

And she stomped off to the girls dormitories feeling distinctly angry, until she remembered just _who _she was going to the Ball with. Victor Krum. Hermione dissolved into very uncharacteristic giggles.

* * *

She took her time getting ready on Christmas Day, she showered and moisturised and painted her nails, did her hair with a combination of magic and very expensive hair products and even applied a little make up before she slipped on her dress and heels and snuck off to meet Victor by the Durmstrang ship. He looked very handsome. At 8pm she walked over through the fairy-lit grotto to the front doors with the other Durmstrang students, herself and Victor leading the procession. He had told her she looked beautiful, and she almost believed him. She was certainly looking forward to seeing everyone's faces when they realised who the Quidditch star was with.

*Then Professor McGonagall's voice called, "Champions over here, please!"*

She and Victor made their way over. It wasn't until she was right next to Harry that he even realised who she was.

*"Hi, Harry!" she said. "Hi, Parvati!"

Parvati was gazing at her in unflattering disbelief. She wasn't the only one either; when the doors to the Great Hall opened, Krum's fan club from the library stalked past, throwing her looks of deepest loathing. Pansy Parkinson gaped at her as she walked by with Malfoy, and even he didn't seem to be able to find an insult to throw at her.* It was a wonderful feeling.

*Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall told the champions and their partners to get in line in pairs and to follow her. They did so, and everyone in the Great Hall applauded as they entered. The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.*

It was amazing how easy it was to talk to Victor; he was lovely, modest and so intent on what she was saying, it was a proper, light conversation with just the right balance of give and take.

*"Veil, ve have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking," he was telling her. "Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve have grounds larger even than these - though in vinter, ve have very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying them. But in summer ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains -"

"Now, now, Viktor!" said Karkaroff with a laugh that didn't reach his cold eyes, "don't go giving away anything else, now, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!"*

She felt a stab of dislike for Karkaroff that was rather stronger than she expected. Death Eater. She though viciously, then she remembered Snape and just felt confused.

*"Her-my-oh-nee," she said slowly and clearly, after he'd said her name wrong for the third time.

"Herm-own-ninny."

"Close enough," she said, catching Harry's eye and grinning.*

* * *

Dancing with Victor had been wonderful, he was so good at it. He whisked her around the floor, leading her with an ease that made her feel elegant too.

*"It's hot, isn't it?" she said to Harry and Ron, fanning herself with her hand. "Viktor's just gone to get some drinks."

Ron gave her a withering look. "Viktor?" he said. "Hasn't he asked you to call him Vicky yet?"

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "What's up with you?" she said.

"If you don't know," said Ron scathingly, "I'm not going to tell you."

She stared at him, then at Harry, who shrugged.

"Ron, what -?"

"He's from Durmstrang!" spat Ron. "He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You - you're -" Ron was obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe the crime, "fraternizing with the enemy, that's what you're doing!"

Her mouth fell open.

"Don't be so stupid!" she said after a moment. "The enemy! Honestly - who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?"

Ron chose to ignore this. "I s'pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?"

"Yes, he did," said Hermione, the pink patches on her cheeks glowing more brightly. "So what?"

"What happened - trying to get him to join spew, were you?"

"No, I wasn't! If you really want to know, he - he said he'd been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hadn't been able to pluck up the courage!"

"Yeah, well - that's his story," said Ron nastily.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang around with...He's just trying to get closer to Harry - get inside information on him - or get near enough to jinx him -"

"For your information, he hasn't asked me one single thing about Harry, not one -"

Ron changed tack at the speed of light.

"Then he's hoping you'll help him find out what his egg means! I suppose you've been putting your heads together during those cosy little library sessions -"

"I'd never help him work out that egg!" said Hermione, outraged. "Never. How could you say something like that - I want Harry to win the tournament. Harry knows that, don't you, Harry?"

"You've got a funny way of showing it," sneered Ron.

"This whole tournament's supposed to be about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them!" she said hotly.

"No it isn't!" shouted Ron. "It's about winning!"

People were starting to stare at them.

"Ron," said Harry quietly, "I haven't got a problem with Hermione coming with Krum -"

But Ron ignored Harry too.

"Why don't you go and find Vicky, he'll be wondering where you are," said Ron.

"Don't call him Vicky!"*

She stormed off through the crowd on the dance floor with no real thought as to where she was going. Ron could be such an arse. Tears stung in her eyes and she vaguely headed for a secluded corner in the hopes of getting herself under control once more in private. She had no such luck.

As she entered the shadows of the corner she'd been aiming for, she realised Professor Snape was standing there, blending in almost completely. Shit. She couldn't really turn back now, not without seeming extremely rude or afraid. She was neither. Hermione took a deep breath.

"Good evening Professor Snape, Merry Christmas."

His expression, which had been one of marginal surprise, immediately shifted into dislike. She felt a twinge of unease, but leant back against the wall about a metre away from him.

"Hiding, Miss Granger?"

She glanced over at him but his face was too bathed in shadows for her to decipher much of his expression.

"Maybe. Just for a couple of minutes sir." She answered cautiously.

"What an outstanding little Gryffindor you are." There was no mistaking the sneer in his voice. Were all males out to get her today? She quashed the feeling of disappointment that he obviously was in no mood to level with her again and spotted Victor walking across the dance floor looking for her. She walked away from Snape without another word. She was going to enjoy tonight with Victor and everyone else could go hang.

* * *

After another blazing row with Ron she stomped up to the dormitories cursing his very existence. She sat on her bed and quickly made up her mind. Victor had asked her to sneak back to the ship with him but she'd refused, knowing his intentions. But now, now she felt like it might be a bloody good idea, she didn't like sneaking around and breaking school rules, but on this occasion she found she didn't much care. So she cast the Disillusionment Charm on herself, which was now a hell of a lot better, and slipped down through the Common Room and out of the portrait hole.

Dumbledore and Snape were by the Entrance Hall. Crap. She was just about to turn around and go through another exit when she heard a snippet of their conversation; everyone else walking passed was so engrossed in themselves and their partners it seemed her Professors were conversing quite freely.

** "Well?" murmured Dumbledore.

"Karkaroff's Mark is becoming darker too. He is panicking, he fears retribution; you know how much help he gave the Ministry after the Dark Lord fell." Snape looked sideways at Dumbledore's crooked-nosed profile. "Karkaroff intends to flee if the Mark burns."

"Does he?" said Dumbledore softly, as Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies came giggling in from the grounds. "And are you tempted to join him?"

"No," said Snape, his black eyes on Fleur's and Roger's retreating figures. "I am not such a coward. **I will return to the Dark Lord, if that is what you wish."

**"You are a braver man by far than Igor Karkaroff." agreed Dumbledore. You know, I sometimes think we Sort too soon..."

He walked away, leaving Snape looking stricken...**

Hermione stood frozen in her place by the door, Victor Krum and his intentions now gone from her mind. Snape would return to You-Know-Who if Dumbledore wanted him to, and how could Dumbledore not want him to? Inside information would be too valuable. Snape's life would be in constant danger. How was he supposed to fool one of the most powerful wizards alive?

There were no more students around now but Snape was still stood by the entrance, looking as though his mind was working through something that was causing him a lot of pain. If she moved, he would notice her Disillusioned form. She stood motionless, but he noticed her anyway. She felt his counter-charm trickle over her. His eyes widened in surprise but then quickly narrowed in anger.

"And just what do you think you're doing Miss Granger?" He asked her coolly.

"Umm…" She had no answer. Telling him she was going to sneak out of the castle was suicide. "I just had an argument with Ron and – er – I wanted to go for a walk before I went to bed." Her excuse was flimsy.

"30 points from Gryffindor, you seem to have developed a habit for wondering around the school out of hours under an exceptionally pathetic attempt at a Disillusionment Charm. Tell me, is it your continuing association with Potter that makes you feel as though you are above the rules, or is it the new … _friend _you've made in Victor Krum that gives you such a sense of superiority? I can't help but wonder why you attach yourself to such people when they clearly find you every bit as insufferable as I do, is it another way you can make yourself feel more important than your fellows? Quoting textbooks and hanging around with high-profile men. What a cut above the rest you are."

She was pleased that he'd mentioned the last time he caught her Disillusioned, however indirectly, because there was absolute proof that it really had happened. Then his words caught up with her brain and after all that happened she felt tears in her eyes again, but she would not cry in front her Professor. She would not give him the satisfaction.

"When you return to You-Know-Who, you'll be careful, won't you?" She asked him thickly.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six…

He said nothing so she quickly glanced up at his face. He looked stricken again. She began to walk back towards Gryffindor Tower and smiled to herself a little, despite her tired, angry, frustrated tears. She'd shocked him so much she'd been able to leave his presence without being dismissed and he hadn't even called her back to berate her more.

* * *

**Chapter 10! Time flies...**

***Text in between one asterisk* from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Thanks Amarenima Redwood ;) )**

****Text in between two asterisks** from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. As always, all credit to J.K Rowling. **


	11. Chapter 11

Maybe Hermione really was getting paranoid these days but there was something fishy about Mr Bagman offering Harry help, and all those Goblins after Mr Crouch. Her and Ron weren't mentioning their row and she was actually quite pleased, it was clearly something they weren't going to agree on. Plus, it made her feel less guilty about keeping the time she was spending with Victor to herself. All in all she was pleased she hadn't gone to his room that night but that wasn't to say she wouldn't in the future; she just wanted to get to know him better first.

Rita Skeeter walked into the Three Broomsticks.

*"You horrible woman," Hermione said, through gritted teeth, "you don't care, do you, anything for a story, and anyone will do, won't they? Even Ludo Bagman -"

"Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand," said Rita Skeeter coldly, her eyes hardening. "I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl...not that it needs it -" she added, eyeing her bushy hair.

"Let's go," she said, "c'mon. Harry - Ron..."

They left; many people were staring at them as they went.

"She'll be after you next, Hermione," said Ron in a low and worried voice as they walked quickly back up the street.

"Let her try!" said Hermione defiantly; she was shaking with rage. "I'll show her! Silly little girl, am I? Oh, I'll get her back for this. First Harry, then Hagrid..."

"You don't want to go upsetting Rita Skeeter," said Ron nervously. "I'm serious, Hermione, she'll dig up something on you -"

"My parents don't read the Daily Prophet. She can't scare me into hiding!" She said, now striding along so fast that it was all Harry and Ron could do to keep up with her. "And Hagrid isn't hiding anymore! He should never have let that excuse for a human being upset him! Come on!"*

And just like that she forced Hagrid to speak to them once more, as if anyone cared he was a half-giant, and started planning how to get one over on a certain Daily Prophet reporter. If only all problems could be fixed by yelling and planning.

* * *

*Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting at the very back of the Charms class with a table to themselves. They were supposed to be practicing the opposite of the Summoning Charm today - the Banishing Charm. Owing to the potential for nasty accidents when objects kept flying across the room, Professor Flitwick had given each student a stack of cushions on which to practice, the theory being that these wouldn't hurt anyone if they went off target. It was a good theory, but it wasn't working very well. Neville's aim was so poor that he kept accidentally sending much heavier things flying across the room - Professor Flitwick, for instance.

This class was an ideal cover for a private conversation, as everyone was having far too much fun to pay them any attention. Harry had been recounting his adventures of the previous night in whispered instalments for the last half hour.

"Snape said Moody's searched his office as well?" Ron whispered, his eyes alight with interest."What ... d'you reckon Moody's here to keep an eye on Snape as well as Karkaroff?"

"Well, I dunno if that's what Dumbledore asked him to do, but he's definitely doing it," said Harry, "Moody said Dumbledore only lets Snape stay here because he's giving him a second chance or something..."

"What?" said Ron, his eyes widening, his next cushion spinning high into the air, ricocheting off the chandelier, and dropping heavily onto Flitwick's desk. "Harry...maybe Moody thinks Snape put your name in the Goblet of Fire!"

"Oh Ron, we thought Snape was trying to kill Harry before, and it turned out he was saving Harry's life, remember?" She said, trying hard to stem the feelings of panic and indignation on Snape's behalf that were rapidly coursing through her. Then she was a little relieved in spite of herself; Dumbledore had given Snape a second chance, he knew Snape had been a Death Eater but he still trusted him. She'd been right.

"I don't care what Moody says," she went on. "Dumbledore's not stupid. He was right to trust Hagrid and Professor Lupin, even though loads of people wouldn't have given them jobs, so why shouldn't he be right about Snape, even if Snape is a bit -"

"- evil," said Ron promptly. "Come on, Hermione, why are all these Dark wizard catchers searching his office, then?"

"Why has Mr. Crouch been pretending to be ill?" said Hermione, ignoring Ron. "It's a bit funny, isn't it, that he can't manage to come to the Yule Ball, but he can get up here in the middle of the night when he wants to?"

"You just don't like Crouch because of that elf, Winky," said Ron, sending a cushion soaring into the window.

"You just want to think Snape's up to something," she replied, sending her cushion zooming neatly into the box.

"I just want to know what Snape did with his first chance, if he's on his second one," said Harry grimly.*

She felt a slight pang of guilt because she definitely knew what Snape had done with his first chance and she wouldn't be sharing in a hurry. She'd also wanted to defend Snape far more thoroughly but didn't want to raise awkward questions. Hermione trusted him. He and Dumbledore were obviously on good terms to have been discussing such matters at the Yule Ball and Snape had clearly been reporting straight to Dumbledore. His stricken expression when she'd asked him to be careful came swimming into her mind's eye. She couldn't decide if it had been her unexpected response to his verbal assault that had made him look so shocked or if it had been her actual words; she couldn't imagine that all that many students, and especially Gryffindors, would have requested him to be careful, would have cared enough to. And she did care about him. She cared about all her teachers, although Snape was slightly different because she'd seen him in rather different circumstances. He was her Potions Professor, he was a human and he was someone who she had a lot of respect for, and someone who she'd rather like to have respect for her. But that was it. Oh, that and he was a complete and utter bastard at times; she knew perfectly well that neither Harry nor Victor found her insufferable thank you very much. But then Ron was a bastard sometimes too and she still liked him. Life could be very confusing.

Then she started panicking about the Second Task and buried herself, Harry and Ron in books that may help with trying to survive underwater for an hour.

* * *

She started to live in a whole world of panic as the Task drew nearer and nearer. They day before they still had no idea what Harry was going to do. She felt like she was existing in a nightmare. Then suddenly Fred and George came over to inform her and Ron that Professor McGonagall was looking for them. The nightmare intensified. They couldn't just leave Harry. But they did; they hadn't really had much of a choice. Next thing she knew her Head of House was informing her that she was the thing that Victor would "sorely miss" (Ron had not looked happy) and consequently would be put in an enchanted sleep and dragged to the bottom of the Black lake for the Second Task.

Life.

The last thing she felt before being put to sleep was extreme guilt that Harry would be waiting for them in the Common Room, he still had no idea what to do tomorrow and would now receive no help from her or Ron. Shit. She hoped to God he would be ok.

* * *

Before she knew it she was in the icy cold water of the lake, Victor's arm around her waist. She looked around desperately for Harry but all she could see was Cedric and Cho. Victor helped her to swim to the side then he was hugging her, excited and happy about finishing the Task. She hugged him back but where was Harry? Madame Pomfrey came over and started fussing with a towel. The hour was over. Where was Harry? Oh dear God where was Harry? What had de decided to do? Had he tried to transfigure himself? Had he tried to make a potion? Had he found something effective but been attacked? She looked around frantically and caught eyes with Snape. She gave him a desperate look and he stared blankly at her. Then he took a deep breath in and out, his eyes still locked with hers. He did it once again; breathing deeply, in and out. On the third time she breathed with him. It made her feel marginally less hysterical. They breathed together once again, not breaking eye contact and it felt rather intimate somehow, even from this distance his eyes seemed to bore into hers, as though he was using Legilimency on her again. She focused on all the feelings of gratitude she was having for him in that moment, just in case. Victor was speaking to her. She turned to him momentarily then looked back at Snape. He was talking calmly to Professor Sprout, he didn't look at her again. Victor was asking her something, she mumbled an answer, not really paying attention, still in a state of panic.

Then Harry surfaced with Ron and a girl she recognised as Fleur's little sister. Why was he with her? Then she felt such an overwhelming rush of relief she thought she might fall over. He was ok.

*Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman stood beaming at Harry and Ron from the bank as they swam nearer, but Percy, who looked very white and somehow much younger than usual, went splashing out to meet them. Meanwhile Madame Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur Delacour, who was quite hysterical, fighting tooth and nail to return to the water.

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?"

Percy seized Ron and was dragging him back to the bank ("Gerroff, Percy, I'm all right!"); Dumbledore and Bagman were pulling Harry upright; Fleur had broken free of Madame Maxime and was hugging her sister.

"It was ze grindylows...zey attacked me...oh Gabrielle, I thought...I thought..."

"Come here, you," said Madam Pomfrey. She seized Harry and pulled him over to Hermione and the others and forced a measure of very hot potion down his throat. Steam gushed out of his ears and she'd never been so pleased to have him by her side.

"Harry, well done!" Hermione cried. "You did it, you found out how all by yourself!"

"Well - yeah, that's right," said Harry. He was a terrible liar.

"You haff a water beetle in your hair, Herm-own-ninny," said Victor, trying to draw her attention back onto himself; perhaps to remind her that he had just rescued her from the lake, but she brushed away the beetle impatiently and said, "You're well outside the time limit, though, Harry...Did it take you ages to find us?"

"No...I found you okay..."*

Oh dear. He'd obviously taken the song literally as only Harry would. He'd played the hero. Still. He was alive and well. That would do for now.

*"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision." Ludo Bagman was saying. "Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows...

"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."

"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour. We therefore award him forty-seven points."

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points."

"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect," Bagman continued. "He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own."

She and Ron both gave Harry identical half-exasperated, half-commiserating looks.

"Most of the judges," and here, Bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look, "feel that this shows moral fibre and merits full marks. However...Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points."

"There you go. Harry!" Ron shouted over the noise. "You weren't being thick after all - you were showing moral fibre!"*

And then she was clapping and laughing and so very relieved she didn't notice her Potions Professor finally look in her direction, rolling his eyes but looking oddly pleased with himself, before he turned and headed back to the castle.

* * *

**Sorry there's not much Snermione action in this Chapter, hopefully will be some more soon ;)**

**Thanks for reading.**

***Text in between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - her majesty J.K Rowling**


	12. Chapter 12

So Rita Skeeter had made her out to be some sort of "scarlet woman", as if she cared! Something funny was going on though; how had that dreadful woman known Victor had invited her to Bulgaria? She'd get that bitch at some point.

*"He asked me right after he'd pulled me out of the lake, after he'd got rid of his shark's head. Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets and then he sort of pulled me away from the judges so they wouldn't hear, and he said, if I wasn't doing anything over the summer, would I like to -" she started telling the boys.

"And what did you say?" said Ron, who had picked up his pestle and was grinding it on the desk, a good six inches from his bowl.

"And he did say he'd never felt the same way about anyone else," She went on, going very red now, "but how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? She wasn't there ... or was she? Maybe she has got an Invisibility Cloak; maybe she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the second task..."

"And what did you say?" Ron repeated, pounding his pestle down so hard that it dented the desk.

"Well, I was too busy seeing whether you and Harry were okay to -"

"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is. Miss Granger," said an icy voice right behind them, and all three of them jumped, "I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Snape had glided over to their desk while they were talking. The whole class was now looking around at them.

"Ah...reading magazines under the table as well?" Snape added, snatching up the copy of Witch Weekly. "A further ten points from Gryffindor...oh but of course..." Snape's black eyes glittered as they fell on Rita Skeeter's article. "Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings..."

The dungeon rang with the Slytherins' laughter, and an unpleasant smile curled Snape's thin mouth. The bastard began to read the article aloud.

"'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache...dear, dear. Potter, what's ailing you now? 'A boy like no other, perhaps...'"

Snape was pausing at the end of every sentence to allow the Slytherins a hearty laugh. The article sounded ten times worse when read by Snape. Hermione was blushing scarlet now and Harry looked ready to explode.

"'...Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.' How very touching," sneered Snape, rolling up the magazine to continued gales of laughter from the Slytherins. "Well, I think I had better separate the three of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson. Potter - that table in front of my desk. Move. Now."

"All this press attention seems to have inflated your already over-large head. Potter," said Snape quietly, once the rest of the class had settled down again.

"You might be labouring under the delusion that the entire wizarding world is impressed with you," Snape went on, "but I don't care how many times your picture appears in the papers. To me Potter, you are nothing but a nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him."

Harry tipped the powdered beetles into his cauldron and started cutting up his ginger. Oh God she hoped he wouldn't do something stupid.

"So I give you fair warning, Potter," Snape continued in a softer and more dangerous voice, "pint-sized celebrity or not - if I catch you breaking into my office one more time -"

"I haven't been anywhere near your office!" said Harry angrily.

"Don't lie to me," Snape hissed, his fathomless black eyes boring into Harry's. "Boomslang skin. Gillyweed. Both come from my private stores, and I know who stole them."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry lied coldly.

"You were out of bed on the night my office was broken into!" Snape hissed. "I know it Potter! Now, Mad-Eye Moody might have joined your fan club, but I will not tolerate your behaviour! One more night-time stroll into my office, Potter, and you will pay!"

"Right," said Harry coolly. "I'll bear that in mind if I ever get the urge to go in there."

Snape's eyes flashed. He plunged a hand into the inside of his black robes. For one wild moment, Hermione thought Snape was about to pull out his wand and curse Harry - then she saw that Snape had drawn out a small crystal bottle of a completely clear potion.

"Do you know what this is, Potter?" Snape said, his eyes glittering dangerously again.

"No," said Harry.

"It is Veritaserum - a Truth Potion so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets for this entire class to hear," said Snape viciously. "Now, the use of this potion is controlled by very strict Ministry guidelines. But unless you watch your step, you might just find that my hand slips" - he shook the crystal bottle slightly - "right over your evening pumpkin juice. And then, Potter...then we'll find out whether you've been in my office or not."*

Bastard. What a bloody bastard. Harry technically hadn't stolen anything from Snape, she had though. And it had been Mr Crouch breaking into his office. Why did he have to be so horrible to her best friend when he had been half decent to her in the Second Task when she'd been on the verge of a mental breakdown? Was it just Harry he hated? Turned out it wasn't.

"And Miss Granger." Snape said, more viciously still. "It seems I was right about you after all; you do just associate with … _celebrities … _to fuel your own desire to feel worth something. We should all endeavour to watch out for Miss Granger … she may decide she requires one of us to be her next conquest and, as such, I expect you all to keep an extra close watch on your drinks when she's near in case she'd cooked up … _another …_ Love Potion."

Her face burned. What an utter fucking bastard. There was just no need.

*There was a knock on the dungeon door.

"Enter," said Snape in his usual voice.

The class looked around as the door opened. Professor Karkaroff came in. Everyone watched him as he walked up toward Snape's desk. He was twisting his finger around his goatee and looking agitated.

"We need to talk," said Karkaroff abruptly when he had reached Snape. He seemed so determined that nobody should hear what he was saying that he was barely opening his lips; it was as though he were a rather poor ventriloquist.

"I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff," Snape muttered, but Karkaroff interrupted him.

"I want to talk now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me."

"After the lesson," Snape snapped.

Hermione sneaked a look at the pair of them; Karkaroff looked extremely worried, and Snape looked angry. She could guess what this was about.

Karkaroff hovered behind Snape's desk for the rest of the double period. He seemed intent on preventing Snape from slipping away at the end of class. Keen to hear what Karkaroff wanted to say, Hermione deliberately knocked over her bottle of armadillo bile with two minutes to go to the bell, which gave her an excuse to duck down behind her cauldron and mop up while the rest of the class moved noisily toward the door.

"What's so urgent?" She heard Snape hiss at Karkaroff.

"This," said Karkaroff, and Hermione, peering around the edge of her cauldron, saw Karkaroff pull up the left-hand sleeve of his robe and show Snape something on his inner forearm. The Dark Mark she presumed.

"Well?" said Karkaroff, still making every effort not to move his lips. "Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since -"

"Put it away!" snarled Snape, his black eyes sweeping the classroom.

"But you must have noticed -" Karkaroff began in an agitated voice.

"We can talk later, Karkaroff!" spat Snape. "Granger! What are you doing?"

"Clearing up my armadillo bile, Professor," said Hermione innocently, straightening up and showing Snape the sodden rag she was holding.

Karkaroff turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeon. He looked both worried and angry. Not wanting to remain alone with an exceptionally angry Snape, especially after he had been so foul, Hermione threw her books and ingredients back into her bag and began to leave at top speed.*

Then Snape made a sort of grunting noise. She turned around in confusion and saw her Professor grasping his left arm, his face screwed up in pain, tension radiating from his body.

He was hurt.

She couldn't leave. Even if he was a bastard.

She started walking towards him and he looked up at her.

"Miss Granger GET OUT."

She almost smiled at the déjà vu. Snape looked furious, then he gasped and grasped his arm more firmly.

"Is there anything I can do?" She asked him quietly. He looked confused.

"No there's not you silly girl. Leave." He hissed through clenched teeth. Then the pain seemed to stop. He let go of his arm and sunk heavily onto his desk chair. She stood stock still a few paces away from his desk. His hands were shaking.

"Have you been Summoned?" She asked him gently.

"No." He answered shortly.

"Then wha-"

"It just burned. It wasn't a full Summons. It's been burning on and off for months now, as well as getting darker. That was the most powerful burn so far. Happy? Now go away." He snapped.

They sat in silence for a time. She wasn't leaving. Aside from the fact that she had about a million questions that felt as though they were literally burning her mouth, Professor Snape wasn't ok. She realised that when she'd decided to go after him last year and refused to leave, it hadn't been a one off; she would do the same every time she decided he needed her to. Whether he liked it or not. His hands were still shaking. This was one of those times.

"Does it mean You-Know-Who's getting stronger?" She asked him cautiously.

He'd been staring at his desk for some time but now he looked up at her, it was an incredibly heavy gaze, like he was assessing her very existence.

"Dumbledore believes so." He informed her, not breaking eye-contact.

She swallowed her panic.

"And Dumbledore will want you to go back to _him. _As a spy?"

He stared at her for so long she started to feel really uncomfortable but she didn't break eye contact. His gaze wasn't angry or exasperated as she'd expected it to be, it was rather more as though he was trying to measure out the exact amount of a key ingredient; and any slight differentiation would make the potion blow up. There was something else in his expression that she couldn't even attempt to decipher.

"Yes." He said eventually, his dark eyes cold.

She inhaled slightly, she'd known this to be the case but having confirmation from the man himself was still a lot to take in. Snape was going to return to You-Know-Who on Dumbledore's orders as a spy. He'd never be safe. Would You-Know-Who even welcome him back after he'd spent all these years in the safety of Hogwarts? Actually, how _had _he managed to stay out of Azkaban? She wanted to ask him so many questions but his expression was shifting into the lines of dislike she was oh-so familiar with. She'd better leave before he put her in detention.

"Please be careful Professor." She said softly and she gathered her bag and made a hasty exit.

* * *

*"Well?" said Karkaroff, still making every effort not to move his lips. "Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since -"

"Put it away!" snarled Severus, his black eyes sweeping the classroom, God he didn't need any children seeing that vile thing.

"But you must have noticed -" Karkaroff began in an agitated voice.

"We can talk later, Karkaroff!" He spat. "Granger! What are you doing?" As if he needed that brat knowing anything else personal about him.

"Clearing up my armadillo bile, Professor." She said, striving for innocence and failing miserably.

Karkaroff turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeon.* Severus was furious. Confronting him about something so private in a classroom of all places. He knew what the Mark getting ever darker meant. He had enough anxiety and panic of his own without having to deal with Karkaroff's as well.

Then he felt the hot, prickling pain deep within his left arm. Thinking he was alone, he grunted and grasped the Mark, hating the burning and the trickle of terror and anxiety it sent straight down his spine.

He looked up and saw Granger staring at him.

"Miss Granger GET OUT." He snarled in embarrassment and distress. He was so angry at her. How many times was she going to be witness to his weaknesses?

Then the Mark burned fiercely once again and he grasped his arm more firmly. It wasn't a full Summons, he could tell the difference, but it was getting closer to one. Merlin he was dreading being Summoned with every fibre of his being.

"Is there anything I can do?" She asked him quietly. He looked up and her concern was written clearly on her face once again. It was unnerving and perplexing.

"No there's not you silly girl. Leave." He hissed through clenched teeth, he didn't want one of Potter's cronies seeing him like this. Although if he was honest with himself, he didn't really think of her like that. Then the pain seemed to ease a little. He let go of his arm and sunk heavily into his desk chair, the pain bringing all the foreboding and stress and tension straight to the forefront of his mind. She stood stock still a few paces away from his desk. His bloody hands were shaking and he felt too exhausted to hide them from her.

"Have you been Summoned?" She asked him gently. Of course she knew about that too. Know-it-all.

"No." He answered shortly.

"Then wha-"

"It just burned. It wasn't a full Summons. It's been burning on and off for months now, as well as getting darker. That was the most powerful burn so far. Happy? Now go away." He snapped, then felt disgusting. Offloading onto a 15 year old. Bloody pathetic.

They sat in silence for a time. She wasn't leaving. He was glad. She was insufferable but he didn't really want to be alone right now. When the Mark burned, it seemed to trigger so much apprehension and so many bad memories he felt weak from it. He was weak. He should send her away. For her own good. But he didn't. It was oddly comforting to hear someone else's breathing close to him.

"Does it mean You-Know-Who's getting stronger?" She asked him cautiously.

He'd been staring at his desk for some time but now he looked up at her. He stared up at her, trying to figure her out. She was concerned for him. She knew he was a Death Eater. She was concerned anyway. Why?

"Dumbledore believes so." He informed her, not breaking eye-contact.

He watched her swallow.

"And Dumbledore will want you to go back to _him. _As a spy?"

He stared at her but she didn't break eye contact. She wasn't scared of him. But she knew he was a Death Eater. Her gaze was steady and he could almost feel the weight of her anxiety for him, as he'd felt it for the events she had clearly pieced together that night he'd found her by a window at 4am, and for Potter during the Second Task when he'd been over the time limit to surface. In fact he wasn't sure he'd ever seen anyone look as worried as she had on that occasion; he'd thought she might burst from anxiety. For whatever bizarre reason she obviously cared very deeply for Potter. He knew what it was like to feel so desperately concerned about someone it hurt like a physical pain. And in her panic she'd looked to him. And he'd helped her because he was a fool. Well, really he'd only reminded her to breathe but she'd certainly seemed to need the reminder. Then she'd given him such an intense look of gratitude he'd felt incredibly uncomfortable. It was entirely undeserved. There was no need for anyone to worry quite that much; there were plenty of safety precautions in place … but then again it had been Potter.

"Yes." He said eventually, his insides feeling cold with fear and dread and stress.

She inhaled slightly, seeming shocked despite the fact that she'd obviously worked out what would happen for herself. Her face was very expressive. He could virtually see the hundreds of questions burning on the tip of her tongue, the effort it was taking her to restrain them, and quite clearly he could see her unease for him and her fear of what was to come. But she was brave, as all Gryffindors are. She'd smiled at him that night she realised he was a Death Eater. He'd watched her comprehension dawning on her face, waited for the fear, the disgust, the loathing, but all he'd seen was a slight flicker of unease, followed by confusion, followed by an acceptance so open he'd felt completely staggered. Then she'd just finished her sentence. As though she hadn't just found out one of her Professors was part of an organisation that aimed to kill people like her. Maybe that made her obscenely stupid but maybe she'd thought it through, realised he could have easily killed her a hundred times already, realised Dumbledore would have known what he was when he employed him, and had a reason to trust him…That was why he'd talked to her openly. He'd been so bloody tired and stressed and restless and then there she was, figuring out his darkest secret and accepting it in a way no one else ever had. Then he'd confirmed all her worry's and fears and she'd still smiled at him. Like he wasn't evil. Like he was someone worth smiling at.

And then he'd found her hiding by the Entrance Hall on the night of the Yule Ball, learning more information she shouldn't be privy to. He'd taken out some of his tension and anger on her, and she had deserved some of it for breaking yet another school rule, but then she'd looked up at him, all big amber eyes and worry and asked him to be careful. Even after everything he'd said to her. He hated how confused the bloody girl made him. It was infuriating.

"Please be careful Professor." She said softly and she gathered her bag and made a hasty exit, leaving him staring after her as she shut the door. Today he'd been horrible to her and her best friend. She wanted him to be careful. What the bloody fucking hell was he supposed to do with that girl?

* * *

**This chapter was a lot longer than I'd planned! Sorry there's quite a lot straight from the book but this bit was important! Hope you like it :) I'm sure there was something I needed to say here but I can't remember what it was. If it comes back to me I'll either stick it in here or on the next chapter. Thanks for reading.**

***Text in between the asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K Rowling - I've actually fiddled with it quite a lot to make it seem from another point of view but some stuff is still word for word so the asterisks give an outline.**


	13. Chapter 13

The meeting with Sirius had been interesting; he'd certainly made her think.

*"Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing ... the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere ... panic ...confusion ... that's how it used to be."* He'd said.

Shit.

Would it be like that again? Death Eaters and the Dark Mark at the World Cup, Bertha Jorkins going missing, Moody being attacked, Harry's name coming out of the Goblet, Mr Crouch's mysterious illness and breaking into Snape's office, the Dark Mark burning and getting darker.

He was coming back.

And Crouch sent his own son to the dementors. That was cold. How could anyone do that? Hermione _hated _Malfoy but she didn't think she'd even send _him _to Azkaban. At least not for long.

*"Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was," Sirius added, and Harry and Ron grinned at each other. "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters. Rosier and Wilkes - they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges - they're a married couple - they're in Azkaban. Avery - from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse - he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater - not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."*

Yeah, and you tried to kill him. She felt a stab of irritation at Sirius. Then all she could think of was a sallow skinned, greasy-haired little boy, unwashed, unloved, with an extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts that fell in with a bad crowd of Slytherins. Not that any of that was an excuse for becoming a Death Eater, but still – it went a way to explaining how he was drawn that way.

* * *

Winky was in a right state.

*"Master - hic - ill?"

Her bottom lip began to tremble.

"But we're not sure if that's true," Hermione said quickly.

"Master is needing his - hic - Winky!" whimpered the elf. "Master cannot - hic - manage - hic - all by himself..."

"Other people manage to do their own housework, you know, Winky," she said severely.

"Winky - hic - is not only - hic - doing housework for Mr. Crouch!" Winky squeaked indignantly, swaying worse than ever and slopping butterbeer down her already heavily stained blouse. "Master is - hic - trusting Winky with - hic - the most important - hic - the most secret..."

"What?" said Harry.

But Winky shook her head very hard, spilling more butterbeer down herself.

"Winky keeps - hic - her master's secrets," she said mutinously, swaying very heavily now, frowning up at Harry with her eyes crossed. "You is - hic - nosing, you is."

"Winky must not talk like that to Harry Potter!" said Dobby angrily. "Harry Potter is brave and noble and Harry Potter is not nosy!"

"He is nosing - hic - into my master's - hic - private and secret - hic - Winky is a good house-elf - hic - Winky keeps her silence - hic - people trying to - hic - pry and poke - hic -"*

And then she collapsed unconscious. What was Mr Crouch's most important secret? Oh she didn't like that man. Mistreating his house-elf who obviously adored him, sending his own son to prison, disappearing to God knows where and breaking into poor Snape's office.

* * *

*YOU ARE A WICKED GIRL. HARRY POTTER DESERVES  
BETTER. GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM MUGGLE.

"They're all like it!" Hermione said desperately, opening one letter after another. "'Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you...' 'You deserve to be boiled in frog spawn...' Ouch!"

She opened the last envelope, and yellowish-green liquid smelling strongly of petrol gushed over her hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils.

"Undiluted bubotuber pus!" said Ron, picking up the envelope gingerly and sniffing it.

"Ow!" She said, tears starting in her eyes as she tried to rub the pus off her hands with a napkin, but her fingers were now so thickly covered in painful sores that it looked as though she were wearing a pair of thick, knobbly gloves.

She would get that bloody bitchface Rita Skeeter if it was the last bloody thing she did. Oooh she would _pay _for this. She'd fucked with the wrong _silly little girl_.

"You'd better get up to the hospital wing," said Harry as the owls around Hermione took flight. "We'll tell Professor Sprout where you've gone..."*

And she rushed out of the Hall so fast, she didn't see Professor Snape until she'd collided with him very hard, and fallen back onto her bum. She looked up at him, his annoyance vanishing when he saw it was her, and his expression shifted into one of cruel amusement. She couldn't help it. Her hands hurt. Her bum hurt. She was humiliated. She was sat on the floor with her hands swollen and lumpy. A couple of tears fell from her eyes. God she didn't want to cry in front of Professor Snape. Hermione leapt to her feet and made to dash towards the Hospital Wing with a mumbled apology. He caught up with her in 5 steps. She braced herself.

"Miss Granger what has happened to your hands?" He asked, his voice oddly neutral.

"Undiluted bubotuber pus sir, hate mail from that article you read out in one of our lessons." She answered. He looked marginally surprised.

"Evidently quite a lot of people _do _find my social life fascinating." She snapped. Then she blanched. It was not a good idea to snap at Professor Snape. She looked up at him; he appeared more amused than anything else.

"Please could I go to the Hospital Wing sir? My hands hurt and I don't want to miss my lessons."

He stared at her for a minute, looking slightly troubled.

"There will be no need." He replied silkily. "Madame Pomfrey is exceptionally busy this morning, some 5th year Hufflepuffs attempted to transfigure each other into various animals. One girl still has a very stubborn set of udders. I shall treat you in my office. Follow me."

And he swept away, his black robes billowing behind him; it was a sight that was endearingly familiar, ridiculously overdramatic and oddly impressive. She quickly went to catch up with him, bewildered in the extreme.

He led her down into the dungeons, taking a short cut she'd never seen before, and let her in to his office. She took the seat opposite his desk and put her bag down, he was looking at her oddly from the other side. Seeming to come to some sort of a decision, he selected a jar on one of his shelves, which she thought contained essence of Murtlap, poured a large quantity in a bowl and added a huge dollop of some other, much thicker substance and mixed them together with the grace that only a Potions Master could possess. He looked at her with distaste.

"Hold out your hands."

She complied and he immediately began smothering her hands in the concoction, between her fingers, her palms and up to her wrists, he was a bit rough, but the paste was so soothing to the throbbing.

"Don't move."

He disappeared through an adjoining door she hadn't noticed when she'd entered and returned shortly afterwards with what looked like a roll of cling film, but was probably the magical alternative. With difficulty he wrapped the film around each of her fingers, then over the rest of her hands so she was basically wearing paste-filled cling film gloves. She looked up at his troubled face.

"They need to remain in this state for at least an hour and a half. You may stay here." he told her emotionlessly then settled down at his desk to mark essays. What was she supposed to do for an hour and a half in Snape's office? She couldn't hold a pen, turn a page, she'd already pushed him to talk to her quite a lot recently; she didn't think she'd get away with it again. She looked around the room; it wasn't a very welcoming place. It was gloomy and dimly-lit, the fireplace stood empty and the lights from the candles cast strange shadows on the walls which were lined with shelves, shelves covered in jars of pickled animals and plants and bits of animals. Charming. She looked at the man sitting before her. He was very tense. Was it her presence or was this tension always evident these days? She'd have to keep a closer eye on him.

"Is there anything useful I can be doing Professor? I can't exactly read one my books, I don't think I'd be able to turn the pages."

He frowned slightly before looking up at her, his face expressionless once more.

"You could count out eels eyes and dead spiders for my lesson with the first years this afternoon. They're brewing a slightly more complicated potion and, imbeciles that they are, I doubt they'll be able to come close to completing the potion if the required ingredients aren't already measured out for them." Snape said.

She suppressed an amused smile at his criticism of his own class; she didn't think she'd ever come across a teacher that hated students as much as he did. Then she waited for him to get up and get the ingredients for her to count but he was still watching her. Why?

Oh.

He was waiting for her to agree. He was giving her a choice. How utterly un-Snape-ish.

"I may as well." She answered with a timid smile. He frowned again, then swept out of his office, returning a few minutes later with a tray of eels eyes, a tray of spiders and a huge stack of bowls. He placed them on his large wooden desk.

"Each student will require 10 spiders and 13 eyes. Put them in separate bowls. There are 19 students. Any marred eyes or spiders with legs missing need to be discarded. Begin." He snapped.

Well that was more like it. It was quite boring work really, made tricky by her hand issues but it was doable. In truth she felt quite pleased she was doing something to make Snape's life easier, even if was something tiny; if she was stressed about all that was happening this year and what it was leading to, she couldn't begin to imagine what Snape must be feeling, knowing he'd have to actually return to You-Know-Who.

She found she was very aware of his close proximity; she could have easily lifted her hand and touched the top of his bowed head. She finished sorting the ingredients for his class and the bell rang. She'd missed the whole of Herbology. She went through the remaining eyes and spiders, fishing out and vanishing the imperfect ones, hoping this small gesture may be of some use at some point.

She was getting closer to finishing when he dropped his quill, and gripped his left forearm, she was sure he was holding on to it so tight he's leave bruises. He was silent but his face was contorted in pain, his eyes shut. She hated, _hated _seeing him in pain.

She didn't know why she did it. It was a bad idea. But she did it anyway.

Hermione grasped his left hand with her right one and held on tight. His eyes flew open, showing her a mixture of shock and alarm but after his initial, flinch - or perhaps it had been a jump, she had grabbed his hand rather suddenly – he didn't move, he didn't hold her hand back, but he didn't pull away either. They stared at one another.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

He pulled his hand from her grasp and turned away from her bodily, he was breathing very fast. She stared at him openly, waiting for a verbal assault that never came; he seemed to be pretending she didn't exist. Well. Ok.

She'd held his hand for 8 seconds.

Oh dear God what was happening to her life? She'd grabbed _Professor Snape's_ hand and held it for 8 seconds. He'd let her hold his hand for 8 seconds.

Maybe he'd been in too much pain to pull away. She doubted it.

Oh.

His Dark Mark had burned badly again.

Shit.

"It wasn't a Summons?" She asked him quietly.

"No." Snape snapped, still turned away from her.

Well at least that was something. She began sorting through the ingredients once more and, after quite some time, Snape returned to his marking.

* * *

"I need to take the film off." He informed her at length.

She held out her hands and he unwrapped them, still not looking at her. Her Professor then applied more of the paste, wrapped her hands in heavy bandages and sent her on her way; he didn't make eye-contact once. She wasn't brave enough to dawdle, or do anything else reckless for that matter. But she didn't go straight to Care of Magical Creatures; she felt way too … something. Her chest felt a bit funny, the feeling intensified every time she thought of Snape's face, twisted in pain and the feel of his hand under hers.

He'd let her hold his hand for 8 seconds.

She'd offered him comfort when he'd badly needed it and, while he hadn't exactly accepted it, he hadn't totally rejected it either. This was definite progress.

So why did she feel so miserable?

* * *

**Is Hermione starting to catch feels? Or is it just indigestion?**

**Hope you like this chapter, I'm a bit worried I'm moving their relationship along too fast but I guess 8 second, one way hand holding isn't exactly falling in love and doing it all night.**

**Just a lil reminder - to myself as much as to anyone else - our Hermione is still only 15 at this point, I shouldn't imagine Snape will start to see her as a sexual being for a while yet, I don't want him to be creepy (what I would perceive as creepy anyway).**

**The next chapter probably won't be for a few days, I should imagine Monday or Tuesday- I'm going away this weekend without my laptop and then I have a crazy busy couple of days at work. Real life can be such an inconvenience. **

**As always thanks for reading.**

***Text in between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by my hero J.K Rowling.**


	14. Chapter 14

Time was flying, it was nearing the end of May and still Snape was ignoring her like his whole life depended on it. Even in lessons he wouldn't make eye-contact or acknowledge her existence in any way. She'd stopped bothering to raise her hand to give answers; it made her feel physically cold every time he ignored her. He was incredibly tense as well, so much so she was sure it couldn't be healthy, but then, that was probably the suspense; he knew You-Know-Who would return soon, he was just waiting for the actual day. She wished she could ask him about his plan for retuning; he and Dumbledore must surely have one. Would she even know when the time came and he left?

The strange events that had been taking place seemed to have reached a plateau; there hadn't been any new developments she was aware of since she learnt the Dark Mark was getting darker. She wished she knew if it had got darker still, or if it was burning more frequently but with Snape behaving the way he was towards her, she didn't think trying to ask him would be a good idea. Holding his hand must have really freaked him out. Hopefully he just needed some time.

Although it had already been weeks and weeks.

With any luck he'd stop ignoring her soon.

* * *

Hermione had been sitting quite happily in the Common Room with Ron, expecting Harry back any minute with news of the Third Task when he threw himself through the portrait hole, looking rather manic. He told them everything he knew.

Mr Crouch had broken into Hogwarts once again, this time to warn Dumbledore of something terrible he'd done. He'd said Bertha Jorkins was dead. If that was true it wasn't a huge surprise but it wasn't exactly ideal. He'd said You-Know-Who was getting stronger. That wasn't a surprise either. And something about his son. Could that be the terrible thing he'd done? Sent his own son to Azkaban? But surely Dumbledore would have already known that and wouldn't need warning…. Then he'd just disappeared, leaving a Stunned Victor behind him. She'd need to see if he was ok at some point.

And Snape had been coming out of Dumbledore's office when Harry had gone to find the Headmaster. What had they been talking about? Was it the Dark Mark? Finalising their plan for Snape's return to You-Know-Who? Then she felt a huge stab of irritation at her Potions Professor, he'd let his hatred of Harry cloud his judgement yet again. Maybe if he hadn't argued with Harry, hadn't held him up, maybe Dumbledore would have gotten to Mr Crouch in time.

They went to bed very late and got up very early to send an owl to Sirius.

*It comes down to this," Hermione said, rubbing her forehead in the hope it would wake her up a little more. "Either Mr. Crouch attacked Viktor, or somebody else attacked both of them when Viktor wasn't looking."

"It must've been Crouch," said Ron at once. "That's why he was gone when Harry and Dumbledore got there. He'd done a runner."

"I don't think so," said Harry, shaking his head. "He seemed really weak - I don't reckon he was up to Disapparating or anything."

"You can't Disapparate on the Hogwarts grounds, haven't I told you enough times?" She said; being tired made her a lot less patient.

"Okay...how's this for a theory," said Ron excitedly. "Krum attacked Crouch - no, wait for it - and then Stunned himself!"

"And Mr. Crouch evaporated, did he?" she said coldly.

"Oh yeah..."*

They weren't getting anywhere with this.

*"We need to see Professor Moody," she said firmly. "We need to find out whether he found Mr. Crouch."*

But they decided to wait till later; waking Moody this early could be dangerous with his track record.

*When History of Magic finally finished, they hurried out into the corridors toward the Dark Arts classroom and found Professor Moody leaving it. He looked as tired as they felt. The eyelid of his normal eye was drooping, giving his face an even more lopsided appearance than usual.

"Professor Moody?" Harry called as they made their way toward him through the crowd.

"Hello, Potter," growled Moody. "Come in here."

He stood back to let them into his empty classroom, limped in after them, and closed the door.

"Did you find him?" Harry asked without preamble. "Mr. Crouch?"

"No," said Moody. He moved over to his desk, sat down, stretched out his wooden leg with a slight groan, and pulled out his hip flask.

"Did you use the map?" Harry said.

"Of course," said Moody, taking a swig from his flask. "Took a leaf out of your book, Potter. Summoned it from my office into the forest. He wasn't anywhere on there."

"So he did Disapparate?" said Ron.

"You can't Disapparate on the grounds, Ron!" said Hermione. "There are other ways he could have disappeared, aren't there, Professor?"

"Well, he wasn't invisible," said Harry. "The map shows invisible people. He must've left the grounds, then."

"But under his own steam?" She said eagerly. "Or because someone made him?"

"Yeah, someone could've - could've pulled him onto a broom and flown off with him, couldn't they?" said Ron quickly.

"We can't rule out kidnap," growled Moody.

"So," said Ron, "d'you reckon he's somewhere in Hogsmeade?"

"Could be anywhere," said Moody, shaking his head. "Only thing we know for sure is that he's not here."

He yawned widely, so that his scars stretched, and his lopsided mouth revealed a number of missing teeth. Then he said, "Now, Dumbledore's told me you three fancy yourselves as investigators, but there's nothing you can do for Crouch. The Ministry'll be looking for him now, Dumbledore's notified them. Potter, you just keep your mind on the third task."

"What?" said Harry. "Oh yeah..."*

The Third Task. Of course. She really shouldn't be getting sidetracked; they still needed to get Harry through that. It was bound to be the most dangerous one yet. A bubble of anxiety rose in her stomach.

As they exited Moody's classroom she saw Snape down the corridor. He looked right at her for the first time in nearly two months. Oh. So now he'll acknowledge my existence, she thought bitterly. He probably just wanted to know what they'd learnt from their DADA Professor as he was obviously too scared of Moody to ask him himself. Well she certainly wouldn't be telling him in a hurry. If Dumbledore hadn't shared this with him, why should she? She quickly looked away from his cold black eyes, wondering vaguely if the Headmaster had ever bothered to tell Snape about Sirius.

Then she began compiling lists of spells that might be useful and her and Ron started training Harry up in earnest. There was no time to lose.

* * *

Harry had had another dream about You-Know-Who. He'd told her and Ron everything he saw in his dream, and everything that had happened in Professor Dumbledore's office afterwards. The boys knew Snape had been a Death Eater, they'd actually taken it better than she'd expected, but then they'd always thought the worst of Snape, particularly Harry, so maybe it hadn't come as a huge shock. It sounded as though Snape had gone through a trial too. That was probably why he was afraid of Moody; he'd said in class that he'd been in charge of Death Eater interrogations. She hoped he hadn't been too hard on Snape.

The man himself had gone back to ignoring her, but it didn't seem quite so aggressive these days. She found she didn't mind as much as she used to, it was a little frustrating but she couldn't be of any help to him if he wouldn't even acknowledge her.

* * *

She realised just how worried she was about the Third Task when revising for the end of term exams didn't even seem vaguely important compared to what was ahead of them. This was going to be the last chance for whoever it was to hurt Harry and if she couldn't go into that bloody maze with him, she was damn well going to make sure he was armed. June the 24th was getting ever closer.

* * *

Figuring out Rita Skeeter's little secret was one of the best feelings she'd ever had, it was even more heady than figuring out Snape's riddle.

*"I've had an idea," She'd said, gazing into space as she figured out the details. "I think I know ... because then no one would be able to see ... even Moody ... and she'd have been able to get onto the window ledge ... but she's not allowed ... she's definitely not allowed ... I think we've got her! Just give me two seconds in the library - just to make sure!"*

And she was right. She knew she was. HAH! She'd have that awful woman now. But first they had the Third Task to worry about. She couldn't believe how quickly it had snuck up on them. But then after tonight, the Triwizard Tournament would be over and hopefully they'd all be able to relax a little.

* * *

*"So...on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!" said Bagman. "Three - two - one -"

He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harry and Cedric hurried forward into the maze.*

Victor entered next, she hoped he'd be alright but she was far more concerned about Harry… Then Fleur entered and all 4 champions were in the maze. Now it was just a case of waiting….

* * *

**So I was back earlier than I thought I'd be and I'd really missed writing so here's another chapter. I know it's not particularly long, exciting or Snermione orientated but it's a necessary transitional chapter. I've started writing the next one and I can promise it will be a lot more action-packed (if that's the right word ;) ) so stay tuned! It should hopefully be up by Tuesday or Wednesday, I have it outlined but I'm not sure if there's going to be an ideal place to end it so it may end up being a very long one but I'm not sure yet. We shall see :)**

**In response to a review from Smiler (I can't respond individually unless the review is from a fanfiction account) as it says in the description, nothing sexual will happen until Hermione is 17, I was referring to their relationship in a friendship way. This story will be as compliant with the real version as I can possibly make it - I like AU stories a lot but that's not what I want for mine :)**

**As always thanks to everyone who reads and to those who review as well. It makes me so happy to know what my story is being read.**

***Text in between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K Rowling**


	15. Chapter 15

It was some time after the task had begun that she started to feel really uneasy. Everyone was excited and cheering all around her, but she found herself feeling on edge and cold, despite the warm summer air.

She had purposely seated herself and all the Weasleys as near to the judges and teachers stands as possible and her eyes kept finding the back of Professor Snape. He was seated next to Dumbledore and, from what she could discern from their backs, they were both very tense. It was when Dumbledore got up and started to patrol the maze as well that she knew something was really wrong; she just knew.

Hermione looked over at the Weasleys; they were all chatting and laughing and not paying her the slightest bit of notice. Good. She cast a quick Disillusionment Charm on herself, snuck down a couple of rows and slid into the seat next to Snape, casting a strong Distraction and Avoidance charm around them both before she revealed herself. He didn't look particularly surprised to see her.

"What's going on?" She asked him without preamble.

He looked at her coldly.

"I believe this is the Third and final Task of the Triwizard Tournament Miss Granger. You really should be paying more attention."

If she hadn't been panicking she might have actually found his response quite amusing.

"Sir I know something's going on, something bad. You and Professor Dumbledore are on edge. I need to know -"

"No you do not need to know anything, you stupid girl. This does not concern you. Go back to your seat this instant." He snapped.

"Doesn't concern me?!" She asked, angry and frantic and really not in the mood to be treated like a 5 year old. "How can it not concern me when it'll be people like me that will be most affected by his return? How can it not concern me when it all revolves around my best friend?!"

She knew at once that she should not have mentioned Harry. Snape's face, which had been showing surprise more than anything else, immediately shifted and curled into a furious sneer.

"This may come as a shock to you girl but the world does_ not_ revolve around your precious Potter." He snarled at her, spit flying from his mouth.

"I'm perfectly aware of that thank you Professor." She answered coldly, nearly 2 months worth of him ignoring her finally making her blood boil. "But You-Know-Who has shown on more than one occasion just how important Harry's death is to him. If he returns, _when _he returns, we both know he'll go straight for Harry, if he hasn't already. Someone put his name in that Goblet for a reason Professor."

Her own words caught up to her and she suddenly felt completely out of her depth. The something bad that was going to happen was You-Know-Who's return. She'd figured that out. But ages ago, ages ago she'd been sure that whoever had entered Harry into the competition had been trying to kill him and You-Know-Who had been behind it.

Snape was saying something but she ignored him.

Could the two be linked? Could You-Know-Who trying to kill Harry, and his return somehow be connected?

"Professor check how many people are in the maze, that spell to check, do it! Now!" She yelled, suddenly sure that someone was in that maze who shouldn't be, someone who was going to hurt Harry.

"Miss Granger don't you dare speak to me -"

"This is more important, take every point from Gryffindor if you want, whatever just listen to me! Do the spell, I can't remember it. You have to check Professor! Please, _please! _I'll do anything, just please check. PLEASE!"

Snape looked rather alarmed and she was sure she would start crying or hitting him if he didn't act soon, she had to know, she _had _to know. This was a bad, bad time for her memory to fail her. With a heavy frown he pointed his wand directly at the maze.

"Homenum Revelio" he said softly, then his eyes widened in alarm and he repeated the spell. She felt the blood drain from her face.

"What is it? How many people are in there?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Snape looked confused and worried and that terrified her more than the awful feeling she had in her stomach.

"One." He said. And for a while she had no idea what to think.

"One?" She asked stupidly.

"One." Said Professor Snape, his black brows knitted together. "Krum was brought out Stunned…"

Stunned?

"So there should be 3 in the maze?"

"Yes. I need to talk to - "

But he never finished his sentence. At that moment, when he was halfway through standing up, he made a low, animal noise of pain in the back of his throat and fell back into his seat, his right hand gripping his left forearm and she knew. She just knew.

Snape was nearly bent over double, his head close to his knees. He was panting. His whole body was trembling.

He'd been Summoned.

For a while she just sat there, completely paralysed. She knew she _had _to speak to Dumbledore. Snape had just been Summoned by You-Know-Who and 2 champions were missing. But then the man himself was sat beside her, in so much pain he could barely breathe. It seemed so cruel to just walk away. But she knew she had to. She _had _to.

"I'll be right back Professor Snape," she said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder, "I'm going to get Professor Dumbledore."

And then she ran from the stands as fast as she could until she got to the Headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore!" She said, gasping for breath. "Professor Snape's been Summoned."

And with that they both began walking briskly back to the stands.

"And 2 of the Champions are missing sir." She informed him, once she had enough breath to talk.

He stopped dead.

"And how do you know this Miss Granger?" He asked her, his voice steady but urgent.

"I made Professor Snape cast the Homenum Revelio spell sir."

She waited for more questions that never came. Dumbledore turned to the maze and cast the spell himself. She watched as his face paled.

"Get back to Professor Snape, I will be along shortly." Said Dumbledore and he swept off in the other direction leaving her standing alone.

She didn't know how to help Snape. She'd thought Dumbledore would.

Disillusioning herself once more she went and resumed her seat next to her Potions Professor. He was a little more upright by the time she'd got back and he'd opened the buttons of his sleeve, rolling it up and revealing the jet back Mark on his pale, bony arm. She quickly renewed and strengthened the charms around them.

"Dumbledore knows sir. He says he'll come along soon." She told him gently but didn't get any form of acknowledgement. "Is there anything I can do?"

He shook his head, staring with a look of mingled fascination, fear and disgust at the Mark, his right hand just below his left elbow.

"Does it hurt any less?"

He shook his head.

"How long will it hurt for?"

He shrugged. It was a very un-Snape-ish gesture.

"When will you go back to You-Know-Who?"

She knew she was pushing it.

"Mind you own bloody business." He ground out through clenched teeth.

She smiled to herself a little. At least she'd annoyed him enough to distract him momentarily.

Hermione looked at his sallow face, taut with pain and dread. His old Master was back and he'd have to go and face him soon. She wished he wasn't going back.

"Do you have to go back?" She whispered, feeling truly afraid now, for herself, for muggleborns, for Harry and for Snape.

He looked at her oddly.

"No." He said tightly. "But I will. It is right."

She had no argument for that.

He was still looking at her. His eyes were desperate in a way that made her heart clench almost painfully in her chest.

She wasn't sure what made her do it … especially after last time … in fact she wasn't even aware of deciding to do it. But she watched, as if in slow motion, as her left hand reached across her and placed itself gently around Snape's right hand, the one that was gripping his left arm so tightly.

They both stared in silence at her hand. She waited in a slight state of shock for him to pull away or shout at her, but he didn't. She forgot to count. They both just sat side by side, staring at her hand. Their heads were really rather close together.

Harry.

Was Harry still in the maze? If he wasn't, then where the fuck was he? Oh dear God. Harry. Please be ok. Please please please.

You-Know-Who had returned.

Her mind felt ready to explode.

* * *

Dumbledore came over to them both eventually, or it might have been seconds later, time had gone a bit funny in all her panic, wild thoughts and feeling Snape's fingers under hers. She didn't remove her hand in the presence of the Headmaster and Snape didn't pull away. To her surprise she didn't feel embarrassed in the slightest.

Dumbledore merely gazed at Snape impassively and Snape nodded his head. Apparently that was communication enough.

She felt quite rude for not offering to move so that Dumbledore could sit down but she didn't much feel like leaving Snape, and Dumbledore was far too busy dashing off here and there and then pacing to do much sitting anyway.

* * *

Suddenly there were two bodies lying motionless on the floor by the entrance of the maze. Cedric Diggory and Harry.

HARRY.

Why wasn't he moving?

HARRY.

There was a torrent of sound, cheering, confusion, screams as people realised what they were seeing.

Dumbledore grabbed Harry and roughly turned him over.

He opened his eyes.

He was alive.

He was alive.

He was alive.

And dimly she became aware of five things.

1) She was crying.

2) Both she and Professor Snape were standing up.

3) She was gripping onto his arm hard enough to leave marks.

4) She was holding onto the skin of his arm which was branded with the Dark Mark.

5) She didn't much care.

They looked at each other briefly and she knew what to do. Giving his arm a quick squeeze which she hoped would be affectionate or reassuring to him rather than painful, she left his side and slipped back in amongst the Weasleys as they rushed towards the two fallen Champions.

* * *

*"My God - Diggory!" whispered Fudge. "Dumbledore - he's dead!"

The words were repeated ... and then others shouted it - screeched it - into the night - "He's dead!" "He's dead!" "Cedric Diggory! Dead!"*

Harry must have been with him when he died. She stared down at her best friend, still lying on the floor. He seemed to have aged a ridiculous amount. He looked years older. He looked like a soldier of war.

Girls were sobbing. Diggory's parents were screaming. It was a scene of devastation and chaos and although she probably had a better idea than most, she still didn't have the faintest idea what was going on. She was still crying.

Then she heard a voice screaming louder than any other

"WHERE'S HARRY? WHERE'S HARRY?"

She realised it was her own.

"WHERE'S HARRY WHERE'S HARRY WHERE'S HARRY WHERE'S HARRY?" She screamed over and over again, sobbing and shaking and more afraid than she'd ever been in her life because Harry had gotten safely back to Hogwarts only to disappear.

Professor Snape appeared by her side, sleeve done up, black and forbidding as ever. He leant close to her and told her to be quiet because he was going to get Harry. He would keep Harry safe. And then she stopped screaming. Because she trusted Professor Snape. He would keep Harry safe.

She wiped the tears from her sopping face just in time to see the Potions Master dashing off across the grass with Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore.

Ron and Mrs Weasley were shushing her and whispering reassurances that she no longer needed.

But where _was _Harry?

* * *

At some point or another she found herself in the hospital wing with the others, demanding to know where Harry was. Then he entered with Dumbledore and Sirius in dog form.

Well _that_ was the last thing Snape needed right now.

*Mrs. Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream.

"Harry! Oh Harry!"

She started to hurry toward him, but Dumbledore moved between them.

"Molly," he said, holding up a hand, "please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him," he added, looking around at her, Ron, and Bill too, "you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening."

Mrs. Weasley nodded and rounded on Ron, Hermione, and Bill as though they were being noisy, and hissed, "Did you hear? He needs quiet!"

"I'm all right," he told them, once he was in bed. "Just tired."

He really didn't look all right.

Mrs. Weasley's eyes filled with tears as she smoothed his bed-covers unnecessarily.

Madam Pomfrey, who had bustled off to her office, returned holding a small bottle of some purple potion and a goblet.

"You'll need to drink all of this. Harry," she said. "It's a potion for dreamless sleep."*

He took a few gulps and fell asleep at once. She settled in a chair beside his bed, resigning herself to not knowing what the bloody hell had happened and just being thankful he was alive.

*"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva -" Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly some time later.

"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled Professor McGonagall. "When Dumbledore finds out -"

The hospital doors burst open.

Fudge came striding up the ward. Professors McGonagall and Snape were at his heels.

The door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward, looking more powerful and impressive than she'd ever seen him before.

"What has happened?" said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you - I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch -"

"There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!" she shrieked. "The Minister has seen to that!"

Hermione had never seen Professor McGonagall lose control like this. There were angry blotches of colour in her cheeks, and her hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury.

"When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events," said Snape, in a low voice, "he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch -"

"I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" McGonagall fumed. "I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but -"

"My dear woman!" roared Fudge, "as Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous -"

But Professor McGonagall's voice drowned Fudge's.

"The moment that - that thing entered the room," she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, "it swooped down on Crouch and - and -"

Barty Crouch was worse than dead. Barty Crouch?

"By all accounts, he is no loss!" blustered Fudge. "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths'."

"But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius," said Dumbledore. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though seeing him plainly for the first time. "He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people."

"Why he killed them? Well, that's no mystery, is it?" blustered Fudge. "He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!"

"Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "Those peoples deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body."

"You-Know-Who...returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore..."

"As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you," said Dumbledore, "we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort - learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins - went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return."

Wait… Barty Crouch junior?

"See here, Dumbledore," said Fudge, a slight smile dawning on his face, "you - you can't seriously believe that You-Know-Who - back? Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders - but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore..."

"When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort," said Dumbledore steadily. "He witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office. I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight."

Fudge's curious smile lingered. He too glanced at Harry, then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, "You are - er - prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"

There was a moment's silence, which was broken by Sirius growling. His hackles were raised, and he was baring his teeth at Fudge.

"Certainly, I believe Harry," said Dumbledore. His eyes were blazing now. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer."

Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. Once again, he glanced at Harry before answering.

"You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who...well..."

Fudge shot Harry another look.

"You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge," Harry said quietly.

They all jumped. None of them had realised that Harry was awake.

Fudge reddened slightly, but a defiant and obstinate look came over his face.

"And if I have?" he said, looking at Dumbledore. "If I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place -"

"Listen to me, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, taking a step toward Fudge, "Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous."

Fudge had taken half a step back from Dumbledore, but he looked no less stubborn.

"You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before..."

"Look, I saw Voldemort come back!" Harry shouted. "I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy -"

"Malfoy was cleared!" said Fudge, visibly affronted. "A very old family - donations to excellent causes -"

"Macnair!" Harry continued.

"Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!"

"Avery - Nott - Crabbe - Goyle -"

"You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!" said Fudge angrily. "You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! The boy can talk to snakes Dumbledore, and you still think he's trustworthy?"

"You fool!" Professor McGonagall cried. "Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"

"I see no evidence to the contrary!" shouted Fudge, now matching her anger, his face purpling. "It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!"

"Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore repeated. "If you accept that fact straightaway Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation."

But Fudge was beyond reason.

"You - you cannot be serious!" Fudge gasped, shaking his head and retreating further from Dumbledore.

"You are blinded," said Dumbledore, his voice rising now, the aura of power around him palpable, his eyes blazing once more, "by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! Your dementor has just destroyed the last remaining member of a pure-blood family as old as any - and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now - take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act - and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!"

"Insane," whispered Fudge, still backing away. "Mad..."

And then there was silence. Madam Pomfrey was standing frozen at the foot of Harry's bed, her hands over her mouth. Mrs Weasley was still standing over Harry, her hand on his shoulder to prevent him from rising. She, Bill and Ron were staring at Fudge.

"If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, "we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I - I shall act as I see fit."

Dumbledore's voice carried no hint of a threat; it sounded like a mere statement, but Fudge bristled as though Dumbledore were advancing upon him with a wand.

"He can't be back, Dumbledore, he just can't be..."

Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.

"There," said Snape harshly. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

That was very brave of him. She quickly tried to gauge how much pain he was in now but she couldn't tell. The way Fudge had recoiled from the Dark Mark … was that how he had expected her to act when she'd realised he was a Death Eater?

Fudge stepped back from Snape too. He was shaking his head. He did not seem to have taken in a word Snape had said. He stared, apparently repelled by the mark on Snape's arm, then looked up at Dumbledore and whispered, "I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry."

Dumbledore turned to look at the group around Harry's bed.

"There is work to be done," he said, "it is time for two of our number to recognize each other for what they are. Sirius ... if you could resume your usual form."

The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore, then, in an instant, turned back into a man.

Mrs. Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed.

"Sirius Black!" she shrieked, pointing at him.

"Mum, shut up!" Ron yelled. "It's okay!"

Snape had not yelled or jumped backward, but the look on his face was one of mingled fury and horror.

"Him!" he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose face showed equal dislike. "What is he doing here?"

"He is here at my invitation," said Dumbledore, looking between them, "as are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other."

Hermione thought Dumbledore was asking for a near miracle. Sirius and Snape were eyeing each other with the utmost loathing.

"I will settle, in the short term," said Dumbledore, with a bite of impatience in his voice, "for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any us."

Very slowly - but still glaring at each other as though each wished the other nothing but ill - Sirius and Snape moved toward each other and shook hands. They let go extremely quickly.

"That will do to be going on with," said Dumbledore, stepping between them once more. "Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher - the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while; I will contact you there."

"Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready ... if you are prepared..."

"I am," said Snape, his voice calm and steady and she had so much admiration for him in that moment she felt like she was swelling from it.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely. She knew he was scared and she wished she could say something to him, anything, but it would have felt wrong somehow in front of all these people. Hermione held her tongue.

"Then good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.*

And then Harry was sobbing in Mrs Weasley's arms. For the second time that night she felt as though the world had gone into slow motion while she carried on at normal speed. There was a beetle by the window. She knew it was Rita Skeeter. She'd be damned if that hideous excuse for a human being was going to write one single word about this. She grabbed a glass on a nearby table and cautiously approached the window the beetle was perched on and allowed all the fear and worry from the day, from the year, to turn into anger. A hot, boiling all consuming anger than left her feeling beyond murderous. She slammed the glass over the beetle hard, relishing in the bang it made. It had taken every inch of her self control not to turn the glass around and crush Rita Skeeter like the bug she was.

* * *

When Harry and the Weasleys were all safely asleep a couple of hours later, she rushed back to her dormitory to collect more clothes, dump a trapped Daily Prophet reporter under her bed and hurriedly summon the Marauders Map from Moody's desk – from fake Moody's desk – she was going to need some time to process all this. Casting her trusty Disillusionment Charm once again she snuck back down to the Entrance Hall but then froze in alarm, Professor Dumbledore was right by the front doors. To her surprise he looked right at her and his blue eyes twinkled.

"Going to wait for Professor Snape, Miss Granger?" He asked, his voice tired but jovial once again.

"Ummm," she stuttered, blushing, "well, yes sir." She finished; there seemed little point lying.

"Very well." He said softly, surprising her once again. "I'll send Fawkes down to you so he can fetch me if I'm needed."

Of course, Harry had told her all about the Headmaster's phoenix.

"Thank you."

He nodded then looked suddenly very solemn.

"Take good care of him."

And then he was gone.

Did Dumbledore know everything?

She settled herself down by the main gates, still Disillusioned and smiled a little despite herself when Fawkes landed next to her; he really was beautiful.

Her thoughts turned back to the man she was waiting for. He was with You-Know-Who. God she hoped he was ok.

Then she remembered the incident with Sirius. Why had he pretended that he hadn't already known about him? Or had the fury simply been because Sirius was present? But then he'd seen his Animagus form before – well sort of, he'd seen it in her head. Maybe he'd been too preoccupied to notice him?

She sighed. Maybe one day he'd answer the hundred million questions she wished she could ask him. Being a know-it-all could be really exhausting.

* * *

**This chapter did not want to end! Hope you enjoyed it, I know there's quite a lot straight from the book so I'm sorry to those who don't particularly like it when I do that but I felt it was necessary for this part. **

**Tiny point, in the actual book, Dumbledore says to Harry "You have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight after what happened tonight. The moment he took you, I knew - and I followed."**

**Obviously I've deviated from this slightly - but there is a significant amount of time before Dumbledore actually gets to Harry and I just loved the idea that in all the commotion it was Hermione that noticed and went a little hysterical on us.**

**Thanks for reading :)**

***Text in between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K Rowling**


	16. Chapter 16

Severus Snape landed heavily on his feet, stumbling slightly from his messy Apparition. He immediately pulled his off his silver mask, shrunk and pocketed it, wrenched the gates of Hogwarts open and dropped his Occlumency shields once he was within the protective wards. He then fell to his hands and knees and threw up, his body still twitching from the lingering effects of the Cruciatus curse and his head pounding from hours of the Dark Lord marching through his thoughts like they were foreign lands to conquer.

The Dark Lord.

A huge shudder wracked his body but he forced himself to get shakily to his feet; it wouldn't do to fall apart here.

He heard footsteps approaching him. They were too soft to be Dumbledore's. He stared at the floor. At this point he was far too shattered to even begin to know how he felt about anything, but especially about her. She'd been impossible to ignore for long.

And she'd waited for him.

He heard a flutter of wings and Fawkes landed gently on his shoulder, letting out a piercing cry that formed a warm pool in his stomach and seemed to resonate through every inch of his exhausted body. He finally found the strength to let go of the railings behind him and look the girl in the eye.

She looked about as bad as he felt.

"Are you hurt?" She asked him, her face concerned and her voice dry.

"Not badly." He answered, and it was almost the truth. He'd been tortured both physically and mentally but it hadn't been as bad as it could have been, as bad as he'd been expecting. Once the Dark Lord had decided that he was _not _loyal to Dumbledore, the torture had stopped and he'd gone barraging through his memories instead. It had been incredibly unpleasant but he was grateful it hadn't been worse and he'd been more than prepared for the onslaught. It appeared that his Master had vented his anger about Potter's escape on the Death Eaters that had already been present.

Her gaze went slowly over his body from head to toe as if she was trying to measure the accuracy of his answer. She nodded.

"Shall we go inside?"

He nodded and they began to make their way slowly towards the castle as Fawkes flew leisurely out of sight. Her steady, even footsteps next to his gave him strength that even a Phoenix would be proud of.

Then as they neared the entrance, a barb of hot, fiery agony shot straight through him and stole every breath from his lungs, he trod on the front of his robes and reached out in panic to stop himself from falling. He gritted his teeth against the pain, unwilling to scream more than he had already that night, as his left hand found something that he grabbed onto with all his remaining strength. He swayed, and so did what he was clinging to. His eyes screwed shut, he knew on some level that it was Miss Granger, but consciousness rapidly becomes distorted in the face of such acute discomfort. He became aware of something gripping him and falling, albeit rather slowly, to the ground. He kept his eyes shut and focused on trying to draw a breath.

"Professor Snape! Professor … please, please be ok. Should I get Madame Pomfrey? Or Dumbledore, would he be better? Please answer me sir … Please open your eyes."

She sounded frantic. She really was concerned for him. He'd known this, but it still came as an almighty surprise. As the pain began to recede he focused on tuning back in to the present and answering the girl. It wouldn't do for her to become hysterical twice in one day. Although it was probably tomorrow by now. Or something along those lines.

"I'm fine." He snapped, but was still too hurt to put much effort into it. "Just after effects from the Cruciartus."

She gasped. He opened his eyes; they were both sitting on the floor opposite one another. Her face was lined with worry.

"But… You said … you said you weren't hurt! The Cruciartus Curse! Madame Pomfrey -"

"I said I wasn't badly hurt you stupid girl. Surely the great and knowledgeable Miss Granger isn't naive enough to think that anyone could walk straight up to the Dark Lord after 13 years standing by Albus Dumbledore's side, and hours late, without some sort of punishment? And Madame Pomfrey can do nothing for me. Neither can you."

This was no time for her childish antics. Especially since he'd been the only one who could calm her last time. The Weasleys and Dumbledore had all tried to reason with her both before and after they'd realised that Potter had in fact been missing. He'd swept over, leant down to her ear and steadily told her to stop because he would find the boy and ensure his safety. She'd quietened instantly and he'd been unprepared for how powerful it would make him feel; she'd been out of control and _he'd_ been able to calm her. Him. Despised Potions Master and Death Eater. She trusted _him_. He ruthlessly quashed the warm feeling that threatened to engulf his chest. She was a fool. An insufferable fool.

She handed him a glass of water and he almost rolled his eyes at her. Almost. He was actually very thirsty. Embarrassed, he snatched it from her hands and drank. Sometimes water felt like the most wonderful thing. When he was finished they sat in silence for a time and he noticed that their breathing slowly synchronised. How curious. He watched her eyelids begin to droop and it occurred to him that she must have been awake all this time too. He sighed. He knew he should send her away but the girl was beyond stubborn. He doubted even the Dark Lord would be able to wrench her away from someone she thought needed her help. The image of his Master attempting to prise Granger's fingers off of his when he'd been Summoned rose unbidden in his mind's eye and he felt his lips twitch ever so slightly, despite all that had happened. In honesty the feel of her hand, warm around his had been all that had kept him from falling into a full blown panic attack, especially when Potter had appeared lying motionless by the maze. Actually she'd gripped his arm so hard at that point that her fingernails had left imprints around his Mark. But it marginally improved the ugly thing's appearance somehow. Maybe it was just because she'd done the absolute polar opposite to the recoil he was accustomed to if ever it was seen. She was undoubtedly a strange one.

He slowly got to his feet but the girl jumped up and tried to assist him. He brushed her off immediately and they slowly made their way inside. Severus knew it was probably pointless to try and send her away, but he thought he'd better try anyway.

"Go to bed Miss Granger." It sounded weak to his own ears.

She met his gaze impassively and then started to head towards the dungeons. He sighed and followed her, leaning on the wall from time to time to rest. It was obvious the girl was itching to help him but he was glad she kept her distance, even if she did hover incessantly by his side. He hated being touched and with good reason. Sometimes it wasn't too bad, but most of the time he despised it unless it was he who was in complete control. In his experience, touch was used to manipulate and to hurt and as such, it made him extremely uncomfortable. There were certain areas on his body that he actually feared to be touched. He had his reasons. In honesty he'd thought the Dark Mark was one of these but he'd felt nothing but shock and a strange kind of gratitude when Granger had grabbed onto it. Not that she'd realised what she was doing of course, but then that in itself had been almost pleasant; she wasn't so reviled by the thing that it was ingrained in her consciousness to avoid it.

Then there was the time she'd taken his hand in his own office; it had taken him a second to figure out what he was feeling through the pain, the treatment he'd given her had greatly altered what a hand should feel like. Then when he'd realised, he'd felt two things, the first was anger that she dared to touch him but the second had been far worse. He'd wanted to grab onto her hand and hold on for dear life because when the Mark had burned that time, it had been so strong and so fierce he'd thought for a second that it had been a real Summons and he'd been so filled with absolute, spine chilling horror he'd felt almost desperate for another human, any other human, to be afraid with him, and for him and Granger had been shaping up to be the most likely candidate. Then of course he'd pulled away and done his best to ignore the little brat, partly for her own sake and partly because his own reaction had scared the life out of him.

He pulled his mind firmly back to the present. They'd reached his office door which he opened, then paused. He really shouldn't let the girl in. It wasn't appropriate.

"I'm _not _leaving." She snapped.

Bloody Gryffindors.

He walked into his lounge and sunk into his favourite armchair.

"Shouldn't you get to bed sir?"

Insufferable girl.

"Not with you here." He snapped.

Hah. Let her muddle that one out.

She sighed and slumped into the other armchair looking exhausted and totally defeated.

"Please can I stay?" She whispered.

Well that was confusing. Did she actually _want _to stay? He'd assumed it was just because of some sort of misplaced pity or sense of duty. Since he'd informed her that he wouldn't sleep _until_ she left, that should have given her a guilt-free pass to leave him alone. Why hadn't she jumped at such an opportunity? He looked back over at her. The blasted girl was asleep. She'd allowed herself to be in the most vulnerable state possible in the same room as someone she knew had just come back from re-establishing himself with the Darkest wizard of the age. That made her incredibly foolish and unworthy of the brains she was gifted with if she was so reckless with her own safety. Stupid bloody Gryffindor.

He conjured a blanket and placed it over her, smirking slightly as he realised this must have been the very thing she did for him a year ago. He made his way softly over to his bedroom, threw his outer robes onto a chair, pulled off his shoes and socks and then fell into bed, throwing the covers over himself and slipping into an exhausted sleep almost immediately.

As he slept his unconscious mind forced him to relive the reunion with his Master once again, this time without the benefit of employing Occlumency. He woke a few hours later to the sound of his own voice shouting and he was drenched in sweat. The next few things all happened rather quickly; the door flew open and Granger came running in, he cast a quick cleansing charm over himself and the sheets and he realised that everything he'd dreamed had actually happened.

The Dark Lord was back.

He'd been Summoned.

He'd returned to the Dark Lord.

He'd been tortured.

He'd been interrogated.

He'd returned to Hogwarts.

And that was going to be his life for the foreseeable future.

Until they won the war or until he died.

And it was bound to get worse; he'd have to take part in certain activities to maintain his cover.

And he was sure to warrant more severe punishments at some point.

His life was to become a web of lies, distrust, Darkness and pain.

And before he knew what was happening he was shaking all over. Right in front of bloody fucking Granger.

He quickly turned his back to her and threw himself as far away as possible without falling off the bed. He squeezed his eyes shut, pulled his legs to his chest under the covers and prayed that for once she'd just leave him be.

He heard her settle on the opposite edge of his bed. NO.

"Granger…" He tried to warn her off but with his body betraying him the way it was and dread and despair flowing through his body it sounded more like a plea.

"Go." Another plea.

This was what he'd been reduced to; pleading with a 15 year old girl.

She didn't leave. And he couldn't deny that the quiet was nice, her steady breathing gave him a goal to try and match his own to. He could almost feel her weight on the mattress. He was tired and terrified and trembling like a pitiful infant but he wasn't alone.

And then she moved.

And her side was against his back and her hand was on the top of his arm.

She was so warm. Did she have a fever?

He kept his eyes tight shut.

Now _this _was inappropriate. He had to send her away.

But he couldn't.

She cared about him, however slightly. And she was there. And she was warm. And he couldn't pull away from her, or push her away because he was weak and afraid and lonely. And she was trying to comfort him. He wasn't sure he could even recall the last person that had bothered to do so. He was still shaking but he allowed himself to now, allowed himself to truly feel everything he'd been repressing. He knew he'd have to at some point and now seemed as good a time as any.

"What does he look like?" her soft voice pierced the air.

He didn't want to talk about this.

"Tall. Pale. Skeletal." he answered, concentrating on keeping his voice steady. "Red eyes."

He couldn't say anymore. That would have to do. A shudder rippled over him.

She squeezed his arm.

"Sorry." she whispered.

Whether she was apologising for asking or for what he'd been through he wasn't sure. But oddly he found he didn't much care.

Slowly he calmed, mind and body and she stayed with him. She didn't speak again. When she wasn't talking at him he could just listen to her breathing and pretend that she was … someone else. But he did have to admit, although he would only do so in his own mind, that Granger _was _better than no one. As he gradually relaxed she started to rub her thumb over his shoulder. The movement was tiny but it seemed to burn through his clothes. He opened his eyes a fraction to glance at her face. She was staring absently at the wall by the headboard, her lip caught between her teeth. Was she even aware of what she was doing? He opened his mouth to say something but then stopped. It wasn't wholly unpleasant.

He shut his eyes and gradually drifted into a much more restful sleep.

* * *

She was gone when he woke and that was a good thing. Sometimes what could be gotten away with in the early hours of the morning was strictly unacceptable in the light of day. He felt the hot prickle of humiliation creep over his chest and shoulders but quickly tried to shake it off. There was no point to it and it didn't feel as bad as this time last year anyway. He chose not to analyse why that was. Severus sighed. He needed to shower, eat and then see the Headmaster. He had no time to worry about Granger now; there was work to be done.

* * *

**Right, sorry this chapter took longer to write than I thought it would, but here it is :) **

**Hermione got away with snapping at Snape! Shocking. **

**Anyway, the next chapter/chapters will be a little easier on the Snermione action, they're both gonna need a bit of space and Snape in particular is going to have a pretty busy summer - just a lil warning ;)**

**I also may deviate from canon ever so slightly in a few places in future but it's not going to be anything that will overly change what happened in the books. Plus I know it wasn't exactly a year since the last time Hermione ending up sleeping in Snape's armchair but I figured it was close enough.**

**Thanks for reading **

**x**


	17. Chapter 17

Hermione Granger was very angry.

Her summer had started off ok. She'd gone and stayed with Victor for a few days, lost her virginity having had lots of sex, which had even started to be quite pleasant by the end, and Victor had certainly taught her some new … skills. And then she'd spent a couple of weeks with her parents. She hadn't told them about You-Know-Who's return. Or anything that had happened with Harry. Or Snape. In fact her letters to them the whole of the school year had been rather absent of anything that might have made them worry, and now she really had no idea how to even begin to explain anything. So she just … hadn't.

But that wasn't why she was angry. She was angry because she was in Grimmauld Place while Harry had been stuffed back with his awful relatives that were neglectful at best and abusive at worst and she and Ron weren't allowed to tell him _anything_. And she could tell form his replies that he was starting to get pissed off and she really couldn't blame him. After all that he'd been through he'd just been cut off from everything and when he was finally allowed to join them he was going to be furious with her and Ron, when he was really going to need their support. And she was angry because even though she'd managed to ward of Rita Skeeter (who knew blackmail could be so wonderful) the Daily Prophet was still writing horrid things about Harry and Dumbledore.

*'I've just been attacked by dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here.'*

Shit.

Dementors.

Shit.

And now Harry had performed magic, the thing everyone had been worrying about. Well maybe they_ should _have told him what was going on. Adults could be very frustrating sometimes.

Shit.

They weren't allowed to write back either. Poor Harry was probably going mad. She felt a huge stab of irritation at Dumbledore.

But Harry would be coming to them soon. Moody had told her so. She formed a sort of friendship with him. Well, it couldn't really be called a _friendship _but it was something close to that. They were cordial to one another. He trusted her a tiny bit. She'd been to visit him in the Hospital Wing a few days after… Well, just _after._ He'd been very thin and twitchy and afraid. She hadn't said much, just caught him up on all that had happened during his confinement, the finer points that Dumbledore hadn't had time to go over. Then she'd just sat with him for a bit every few days until term ended. His loneliness was palpable. Almost 10 months in a trunk would do that to you. It was a shame he couldn't be friends with Snape really, he was lonely too. Poor Snape. He'd been in a bit of a state last time she'd been with him, as much as he'd tried to pretend otherwise. His trembling, curled up form under his bedcovers came floating to the front of her mind. If it had been anyone else she probably would have lain down with them and cuddled up, especially if had been Harry or Ron, but there was no way she could have done that with Snape and lived to tell the tale. She'd felt incredibly reckless just sitting on the bed with him, then she'd wondered if she'd suddenly become suicidal when she moved and put her hand on his arm, but he hadn't killed her, or even demanded her removal… He'd just lain there, shaking and sweating and struggling to breath.

She pushed her mind firmly back to the present; thinking about the way her Professor had been that night made her chest feel funny again and she didn't like it.

* * *

*"HARRY! Ron, he's here, Harry's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless-but we couldn't tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't, oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got things to tell us-the dementors! When we heard-and that Ministry hearing-it's just outrageous, I've looked it all up, they can't expel you, they just can't, there's provision in the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations—"

"Let him breathe, Hermione," said Ron, grinning as he closed the door behind Harry.

"He seemed to think it was best"' she said rather breathlessly. "Dumbledore, I mean."

"Right," said Harry.

"I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles-"' Ron began.

"Yeah?" said Harry, raising his eyebrows. "Have either of you been attacked by dementors this summer?"

"Well, no-but that's why he's had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time-"

"So why's Dumbledore been so keen to keep me in the dark?" Harry asked, "Did you-er-bother to ask him at all?"

"We told Dumbledore we wanted to tell you what was going on," said Ron. "We did, mate. But he's really busy now, we've only seen him twice since we came here and he didn't have much time, he just made us swear not to tell you important stuff when we wrote, he said the owls might be intercepted-"

"He could still could've kept me informed if he'd wanted to," Harry said shortly. "You're not telling me he doesn't know ways to send messages without owls? And how come I have to stay at the Dursleys' while you two get to join in everything that's going on here?" said Harry, his voice growing louder with every word. "How come you two are allowed to know everything that's going on?"

"We're not!" Ron interrupted. "Mum won't let us near the meetings, she says we're too young-"

"SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS' FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO'VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT- WHO SAVED THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS?

"WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!

"BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING?"

"Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did-" she began.

"CAN'T'VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU'D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR-"

"Well, he did-"

"FOUR WEEKS I'VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF BINS TO TRY AND FIND OUT WHAT'S BEEN GOING ON-"

"We wanted to-"

"I SUPPOSE YOU'VE BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH, HAVEN'T YOU, ALL HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER-"

"No, honest-"

"Harry, we're really sorry!" she said desperately, her eyes now sparkling with tears. "You're absolutely right, Harry - I'd be furious if it was me!"*

There was a long and awkward silence. She didn't blame Harry in the slightest for his reaction, but that didn't make it any easier.

The twins' arrival seemed to facilitate a more civil conversation.

*"Snape!" said Harry quickly, his hunger for information obvious, "Is he here?"

"Yeah," said George, carefully closing the door and sitting down on one of the beds; Fred and Ginny followed. "Giving a report. Top secret."

"Git," said Fred idly.

"He's on our side," she said reprovingly.

Ron snorted. "Doesn't stop him being a git. The way he looks at us when he sees us..."

"Bill doesn't like him, either," said Ginny, as though that settled the matter.*

Hermione sighed. He _had_ been being a git to them, even though he hadn't said one word; the looks of disgust were enough. She'd been planning on cornering him to try and find out how he was and if he was hurt, she'd done so much research into Healing over the summer, but he'd been avoiding her like the plague and she'd only seem like an extra annoyance if she kept trying to speak to him. Instead she'd settled for making herself quietly available to him when he was around, just on the off chance he might, possibly want to see or speak to her. She was aware of how unlikely that was.

* * *

Well of course Harry managed to get more information within a few hours of his return than the rest of them had managed in weeks. But at least they knew something now. The Order was active, You-Know-Who wasn't moving into the open but was instead focusing on some kind of weapon. That didn't sound good. Then naturally she relayed everything she now knew to Ginny.

* * *

Hermione wasn't sure if she liked Sirius. Aside from what he'd done to Snape when they were at Hogwarts, and his continuing rudeness to her Professor, he was rather sulky. And he treated that house elf like filth.

*"Was Regulus killed by an Auror?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Oh, no," said Sirius. "No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort's orders, more likely; I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It's a lifetime of service or death."*

She felt another knot of worry in her stomach for Snape. What would You-Know-Who do to him if he ever found out Snape was loyal to the Order? And why had he turned away from the You-Know-Who? Maybe she should try and corner him at some point, even if he just shouted at her she might have enough time to tell him to be careful…. But she'd have to make sure not to do it in front of the others. She still hadn't mentioned anything about Snape to them, and with good reason, but that didn't mean that she didn't feel bad about it sometimes; she wasn't used to keeping things from her friends. But then she'd kept her stay with Victor from them too. Another stab of guilt. And they didn't know she'd spent some time with Moody either. Oh dear. Maybe she'd eventually end up leading a double life just like Snape himself. The thought was not a pleasant one.

* * *

She in fact managed to corner the man himself two days later. It had been by chance; she'd been coming out of the ground floor bathroom when he'd appeared by the front door, evidently knowing how to open it without waking Mrs Black. He looked tired and on edge but other than that ok.

"Are you alright?" She asked him quietly, not wanting to alert anyone else of his arrival.

He glowered at her.

"Mind your own business."

He must have been tired if that's all he managed to come up with.

"Please be careful sir." She pleaded as he swept down the hall.

He didn't look back.

She saw him at a distance a few more times but if he did look at her, it was a very fleeting glance.

* * *

Harry's hearing at the Ministry loomed and though she was sure there was no way they could expel him, there was no denying she, and everyone else in the house, was worried. And Harry was worried too, even if he didn't say a word about it.

When the day finally came the whole house seemed to be in a state of limbo. Mrs Weasley tried to make them clean but without any real intention. Everyone was so tense and time seemed to have slowed to a fraction of its normal rate.

She felt faint with anxiety when she heard him come back but…

*"I knew it!" yelled Ron, punching the air. "You always get away with stuff!"

"They were bound to clear you," she said, holding a shaking hand over her eyes, "there was no case against you, none at all."

"Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering you all knew I'd get off," said Harry, smiling.

Mrs. Weasley was wiping her face on her apron, and Fred, George, and Ginny were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went: "He got off, he got off, he got off-"*

And everything seemed much funnier and lighter than it had all week.

* * *

Hermione saw Snape properly only once more before the holidays ended. She was in the Library late one evening when he came in. She half expected him to walk straight out once he saw her but his dark, cold eyes just swept over her then moved to the bookcase. She was reading up about Healing again, the books in Grimmauld Place were all rather dark but that meant that there were all sorts of cures for nasty accidents and curses for her to learn.

"Good evening Professor." She tried timidly.

"Is it?" He snapped in reply.

She huffed out a surprised laugh.

"Well it's not a hideous one." She ventured.

He looked at her, a slight crinkle of amusement around his eyes then looked back to the bookcase. He was looking for something specific. This was probably going to be her only chance to speak to him for some time.

"I know you hate me asking, interfering, whatever," she said quickly, "but I just … it's just … are you ok? Or as ok as you can be given the circumstances? We're all scared but you're the one out there, with _him _and I just … I worry about you sir. What if he finds out about your loyalties or what if you're hurt? I just …" She tailed off, frustrated at not properly being able to convey her thoughts.

Snape was staring at her oddly. He didn't look angry. He ran his long fingers over his thin mouth. He had quite nice fingers. Elegant.

"I am not something you should be worrying about." He told her, his voice quiet and his brows furrowed. He looked confused. She didn't know what to say but a slightly bitter smile appeared on her face; he didn't understand that she was worried because she cared about him.

"But are you hurt?" She had to know.

"I'm not." He answered, frowning still. She felt herself sag in relief, not even fully realising how worried she'd been about him. He looked even more confused and she felt a stab of something in her chest. How could he not realise she would care about him after what had happened the night You-Know-Who had returned? Before that even? He returned to the bookcase once more, his hair falling over his face so she could no longer see his expression. His hair looked a little greasier than normal. She sighed and curled into the armchair more thoroughly, slipping off her shoes and tucking her feet underneath herself.

He finally selected a particularly Dark looking book and then turned to watch her for a minute, looking a little indecisive. She wondered if he wanted to stay; he probably hadn't had that much company over the summer, accept at Order or Death Eater meetings, neither of which could be very relaxing. She wanted him to stay.

"I don't like Sirius." She blurted out suddenly, surprised by her own words and their accuracy.

Snape stared at her for a moment, and then he let a big huff of air from his large nose, presumably in amusement, his eyes shining. She beamed at him. She'd almost managed to make Professor Snape laugh! He looked rather surprised and then his face immediately shut down.

"Indeed?"

"He's rude to you, he's horrible to his house elf, he's sulky and sullen and I _know _he secretly wanted Harry to be expelled so that he wouldn't be alone. That makes him selfish too."

There. It was good to voice what she'd been starting to feel from the very first few days at Grimmauld Place.

Snape was studying her face as if seeking to find the truthfulness of her words. She looked steadily back up at him, his expression was wary and now she'd had longer to look, she could see how tired he appeared, huge dark shadows under his eyes and tension radiating from his body.

"And why would this interest me?" He murmured.

"I don't know sir, I suppose I just wanted to express my thoughts to someone I knew wasn't Sirius' biggest fan."

He huffed out a surprised laugh again but his expression was bitter. Amusing him sent a wave of pleasure over her all the same.

"Would you like to join me?" She asked him timidly. He stared at her again, his face impassive, then, to her secret delight, he settled himself stiffly on the sofa next to her armchair and opened his book. She was just about to become absorbed in her own book once again when he snapped his own shut.

"I have things to do you silly girl." He snarled at her and then exited the room so fast he she was sure he was on the verge of breaking into a run. She stared at the door utterly perplexed. What a strange man he was.

* * *

*Down in the basement Mrs. Weasley had hung a scarlet banner over the heavily laden dinner table, which read CONGRATULATIONS RON AND HERMIONE - NEW PREFECTS. She looked in a better mood than she'd been all holiday.

"I thought we'd have a little party not a sit-down dinner," she told Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny as they entered the room. "Your father and Bill are on their way, Ron. I've sent them both owls and they're thrilled." She added, beaming.

Fred rolled his eyes.

Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt were already there and Moody stumped in shortly after. Harry seemed in better spirits, Hermione still found it a little odd that Dumbledore hadn't made him a Prefect, in fact the Headmaster seemed to be treating Harry a little oddly full stop.

"Oh, Alastor, I am glad you're here," said Mrs. Weasley brightly, as Mad-Eye shrugged off his travelling cloak. "We've been wanting to ask you for ages - could you have a look in the writing desk in the drawing room and tell us what's inside it? We haven't wanted to open it just in case it's something really nasty."

"No problem, Molly..."

Moody's electric-blue eye swivelled upwards and stared fixedly through the ceiling of the kitchen.

"Drawing room..." he growled, as the pupil contracted. "Desk in the corner? Yeah, I see it... Yeah, it's a boggart... Want me to go up and get rid of it, Molly?"*

He was a good man.

"So what _does _a boggart look like then?" She asked him interestedly.

He chuckled his rasping laugh. "It looks like a cloud of black smoke with two huge blue eyes."

"Really?"

And just like that her last evening at Headquarters became even better.

'But it's a shame it's not Snape' said a tiny voice in her head. She choked on her butterbeer. Where had that come from? Lately he had never been too far from her thoughts but to actually wish his presence on herself, when he could be so very cruel….

The year ahead was certainly going to be interesting.

* * *

**It sure is! So here's another chapter. I actually don't have anything to say really... So I suppose I should probably stop typing. **

**Thanks for reading!**

***Text in between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (which is probably my fav) by J.K Rowling. **


	18. Chapter 18

Although it was always thrilling to get back to Hogwarts, the torches, the flagged-stone floor, the high windows and floating candles and the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, the thrill was tempered somewhat by Malfoy's foul antics, Hagrid's absence and the warning of the Sorting Hat. That was certainly unexpected.

And Umbridge was trouble. Hermione knew it with a certainty that worried her. Umbridge was nothing but trouble. Her little speech was confirmation. She was Fudge's sidekick and she was here to interfere at Hogwarts, probably to destabilise Harry and Dumbledore. She might be wearing a fluffy pink cardigan but her intentions were darker than Snape's robes.

Snape.

He looked tired. And angry.

Shit. She was supposed to be dealing with the first years.

*"Ron, we're supposed to show the first-years where to go!*

"Oh yeah," said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey-hey, you lot! Midgets!"

"Ron!"

"Well, they are, they're titchy ..."

"I know, but you can't call them midgets! First-years!" She called commandingly along the table. "This way, please!"*

* * *

She didn't know why she was no excited, no, nervous, for her first lesson back with Snape.

*They sat at their usual table at the back.

"Settle down," said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him.

There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence. He was rather impressive.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an "Acceptable" in your OWL, or suffer my ... displeasure."

His gaze lingered this time on Neville, who gulped.

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye."

His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled. Harry glared back.

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell" said Snape softly, "so, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." Hermione sat up a little straighter with a shiver of excitement. "The ingredients and method-" Snape flicked his wand "-are on the blackboard- (they appeared there) "-you will find everything you need-" he flicked his wand again "-in the store cupboard-" (the door of the store cupboard sprang open) "-you have an hour and a half... Start."

Just as they had predicted, Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.

"A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.*

She felt a simmer of pride that her potion was just as it should be. When her Professor passed her cauldron and looked down his hooked nose at it, he swept off without comment and she felt like she was glowing; he'd obviously found nothing to criticise.

But then he started being royal bastard to Harry. She hated it when he started on her best friend. Especially now, was it not enough that nearly the entire school thought Harry was a mad, attention seeking liar? That he was pointed at and whispered about at every turning? Why did her Professor insist on making his life even harder?

*"That was really unfair," she said consolingly, sitting down next to Harry and helping herself to shepherd's pie. "Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's; when he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire."

"Yeah, well," said Harry, glowering at his plate, "since when has Snape ever been fair to me?"

And it was true; all three of them knew that Snape and Harry's mutual enmity had been absolute from the moment Harry had set foot in Hogwarts.

"I did think he might be a bit better this year," said Hermione, feeling disappointed. "I mean ... you know ..." she looked around carefully; there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of them and nobody was passing the table " ... now he's in the Order and everything."

"Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots," said Ron sagely. "Anyway, I've always thought Dumbledore was cracked to trust Snape. Where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?"

"I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, Ron," she snapped, instantly on the defensive on behalf of Snape, even if he could be foul.

"Oh, shut up, the pair of you," said Harry heavily, as Ron opened his mouth to argue back. They both froze, angry and offended. "Can't you give it a rest?" said Harry. "You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad." And abandoning his shepherd's pie, he swung his schoolbag back over his shoulder and left them sitting there.*

And that was where the main problem lay; Harry's temper. He was angry. Even when he wasn't angry he still sort of was, just under the surface. It was shaping up to be a real issue.

Snape walked into the Hall and sat next to Dumbledore. Her trust in him wasn't going to waver just because he was a bastard. He'd always been a bastard and never claimed to be anything else. The fact that she forgot sometimes certainly wasn't his fault. He looked over at her and their eyes met. He looked … worried perhaps? He quickly looked away, his hair obscuring her view of his face once again.

"Harry has _got _to stop taking his temper out on us." She declared testily to Ron. He nodded and their arguing stopped just like that. Just like it always did.

* * *

From the moment Umbridge made them chant 'Good afternoon Professor Umbridge' like 6 year olds, Hermione lost all respect the woman. The course aims said nothing about using any spells and she decided to test the her out. At first it was great, testing authority was definitely something she'd need to start doing more often, more and more people were putting Umbridge through the wringer but then Harry joined in. And from the moment she saw the look of triumph in Umbridge's expression, she knew that she'd inadvertently given the toad what she'd wanted all along. She was trying to undermine Harry, and if he couldn't keep a hold on his anger, he was going to make it easy for her.

She went straight to McGonagall after class.

"She's going after Harry." She said without preamble.

Her Head of House eyed her, half irritable half anxious.

"He still listens to you. You need to control his temper."

"If he can't control it then how am I supposed to?!" It had come out more angry than she'd meant it to. "Sorry Professor. I'm just worried. Maybe if Professor Dumbledore talked to Harry…"

"The Headmaster is busy." McGonagall replied stiffly.

Well that confirmed it; something weird was going on with Dumbledore, Harry needed him, especially now. Where was he?

* * *

The rest of the week passed in a blur and by Sunday she found she was missing certain members of the Order she'd gotten rather used to seeing. Tonks, Lupin, Mr and Mrs Weasley and Moody. She also thought vaguely about Snape, wondering if she could come up with a reason to go and see him. No. She shook her head. There must be something wrong with her. Why would she want to see him? He was a bastard and he clearly didn't think much of her. 'But he doesn't hate you anymore,' said a tiny, excited voice in her head.

And then Sirius' head was in the fire. That man was reckless beyond belief, first leaving Headquarters in dog form and being potentially recognised by Malfoy and now this.

*"So we're being prevented from learning Defence Against the Dark Arts because Fudge is scared we'll use spells against the Ministry?" she said, furious.*

Fudge was the barmy one not Harry. This was ridiculous, they _had _to know how to defend themselves. Sirius became sullen once again when they insisted he stayed at Grimmauld place and disappeared in sulk and a gentle pop.

* * *

*MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM

DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED

FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR

Shit.

"So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this "Educational Decree" and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect the other teachers!'" She cried, breathing fast. "I can't believe this. It's outrageous!"*

But there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. Yet. She'd have to think of something especially nasty to do to that horrible woman.

She looked around the Hall. Dumbledore alone looked calm at the top table, sipping his tea delicately. All the other teachers appeared on a scale from mildly concerned to absolutely furious. McGonagall was topping the scale. Her mouth was so thinned it was barely visible and her eyebrows were so furrowed she looked almost hawk-like. Snape looked bored. But there was a tightness around his eyes and he had a white-knuckle grip on his knife and fork, betraying his anger, to her at least. This school needed Dumbledore, now more than ever.

* * *

She started 'Umbridge-baiting' as she'd named it, again at the next Defence lesson. And once again it had been fun until…

*'Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher,' said Harry loudly, "there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."

This pronouncement was followed by one of the loudest silences Hermione had ever heard. Then-

"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge sleekly.*

Perfect. Harry's hand had barely healed. Just bloody perfect. Harry did not listen to her anymore, not unless it was about homework. She had to do something…

And that was how she found herself outside Snape's office. He was not going to be happy. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and knocked.

"Enter." Came his deep, even voice from inside.

She opened the door and walked up to his desk, he didn't seem surprised to see her. He said nothing, just gazed at her, a slight sneer curling his thin top lip. Her level of nervousness raised a notch. She'd decided not to tell him the absolute truth, mostly because she didn't want to add to his stress, but partly because she was secretly afraid that he'd be able to do nothing to stop Umbridge. She'd also considered Madame Pomfrey, but decided she was more likely to ask difficult questions

"Sir I was wondering what the best treatment would be for a cut caused by dark object?" She asked, proud of how steady she'd kept her voice.

He continued to gaze at her impassively, though the lines round his eyes tightened slightly and his fingers traced his lips. His hair didn't look very greasy today, in fact it looked quite shiny, it was much nicer shiny…

"I thought you'd been researching Healing, Miss Granger." He said softly.

She stared at him. How on earth did he know about that?

"Well yes," she answered, flustered and confused. "but I don't know everything about it and I've only been reading about certain … things and I presumed a simple Healing Potion wouldn't be much use against something so evil so I-" she stopped talking abruptly and looked back at Snape. He seemed troubled.

"How wonderful to finally hear the know-it-all admit that she doesn't know everything." He sneered at her, his earlier expression melting into one of disgust.

Hermione felt her face fall and she stared at her shoes. He wasn't going to help her. She'd been relying on his help, he was in the Order after all…

In one swift movement Snape leant across his desk and grabbed her left arm, pulling it roughly towards him and pushing up her sleeve, examining the skin on her hand. His fingertips were soft. He sighed and released her, looking relieved. Her heart rate increased.

"Potter deserves it." He said.

She stared at him for what felt like several minutes. Then all at once she was hot and shaking and furious.

"HOW DARE YOU?! You know?! You know what she's doing to him, you know she's torturing a 15 year old boy and you do nothing?! You stand there and say he deserves it? How dare you! You_ are_ an evil bastard! And I've spent years defending you! I trusted you! How can you even-"

She stopped at the look on Snape's face. It was murderous.

"Of course he deserves it you imbecile. All he would have to do to avoid such treatment is to control that damnable temper of his. He shouts his defiance at her. People who cannot control themselves and their emotions are pathetic and weak and deserve everything they get." He hissed at her his face twisted and flushed.

He was right that Harry could avoid the detentions, she'd been trying to get him to stop baiting Umbridge so obviously herself, and yet…

"But maybe he's doing exactly what needs to be done, regardless of the consequences, even if it isn't for the right reasons. He's shouting the truth. He's being consistent and sooner or later everyone's going to realise he's been right all along, and then they'll see. Maybe everyone needs to hear him shouting. And besides it's hardly surprising he can't control his temper. He's forced to compete in a tournament he never put his name down for, he ends up watching one of his competitors get killed right in front of him, he witnesses You-Know-Who's return, he fights him and ends up seeing the shadows of people You-Know-Who's killed, including his own parents, after all that he makes it back to Hogwarts only to be whipped off and almost killed by one of his Professors and then he's shoved back into a household of abusive muggles with no word from anyone of what's going on for weeks."

Oh God. She'd yelled at Snape. Twice. She glanced up at his face, he appeared furious until they locked eyes, bright amber against cold black. His anger seemed to evaporate and he stared at her oddly once again, leaning back against his desk chair. He looked tired and pale and clammy.

"And do I have fewer reasons to be angry?" He asked, his voice soft as velvet and his eyes boring into hers. "How do you imagine I spent _my_ summer?"

She stood there gaping at him. She had no idea what to say. Several minutes passed.

"You're not a 15 year old school boy." She said finally, her voice very quiet.

"But I was once." He answered, still not breaking eye contact.

She thought again of the unwashed, unloved little boy with an extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts, who was bullied by Sirius.

"And were you angry then?"

He blinked and a slight furrow appeared between his brows. His sallow skin looked almost sickly.

"Yes." He whispered, his voice so quiet she almost didn't hear him. And then she wanted to take the hand that was still on his desk and hold it in her own so much she felt light-headed and quickly clenched her hands together, shaking her head to try and clear it. A silence settled heavily between them. She still wanted to take his hand and had to stop herself from staring at it.

Snape was still angry. She realised that now. Harry couldn't control his temper, but Snape obviously could, at least most of the time, he'd found a way to control his anger. Maybe she needed to find a way to get Harry to control his.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out suddenly, her voice sounding rather loud and making her Professor jump. "I'm so sorry for everything you've been through," she continued earnestly, hoping to God or Merlin or whoever that he'd believe just how sorry she was. "but that doesn't mean that what Umbridge is doing to Harry is ok. Detention is one thing but forcing him to carve his own hand open…" She broke off, unable to control the shaking of her voice from an anger so fiery she felt sick from it.

She looked up at Snape but he was staring quite determinedly at his desk. He wasn't going to help her. She sighed and turned to leave.

"Take care of yourself Professor." She said softly as she neared the door.

"Do you still trust me?" Snape snapped, his voice rough, looking furious, but somehow she knew it wasn't directed at her.

"What?"

"Do you still trust me?" He was avoiding her eyes.

"I… Yes of course I do. I shouldn't have said that sir. I apologise."

She waited for him to say something, but although he had risen from his desk when he'd called to her, he made no further sign of movement and he wouldn't look at her. She put her hand on the door handle.

"You need to strain and pickle Murtlap tentacles, there's a small supply in the student store cupboard."

His voice came out all in a rush and before she'd could turn and thank him he'd disappeared through the door leading to his quarters.

She stood with her hand on the door handle for some time, frowning. What had just happened? She desperately wanted to go after him, hammer on his door until he came out but something held her back. Maybe this was his Slytherin way of thanking her? Maybe she was over thinking things, but then that made it twice in a row that Snape had almost literally run from her. And what did he care if she still trusted him or not? He was so confusing. But at least she knew how to help Harry now, which was something. And she needed to think of an outlet for Harry's anger. Actually maybe she had just the thing…

* * *

*"Here," she said anxiously, "soak your hand in that, it's a solution of strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles, it should help."

"Thanks," he said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks's ears with his left hand.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," said Ron in a low voice.

"No," said Harry flatly.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew-"

"Yeah, she probably would," said Harry dully. 'And how long do you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

Ron opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out and, after a moment, he closed it again, defeated. Harry was right, Snape was proof of that, if he knew then some of the other teachers must know too, and there was nothing they could do. It was a very chilling realisation.

"She's an awful woman," said Hermione in a small voice. "awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in ... we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison," said Ron grimly.

"No ... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any Defence from her at all." She said. "You know, I was thinking today ..." she looked nervously at Harry and then plunged on, "I was thinking that - maybe the time's come when we should just - just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" said Harry suspiciously, still floating his hand in the essence of Murtlap tentacles.

"Well-learn Defence Against the Dark Arts ourselves," said Hermione.

"Come off it," groaned Ron. "You want us to do extra work? D'you realise Harry and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week?"

"But this is much more important than homework!" she said.

Harry and Ron goggled at her.

"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework!" said Ron.

"Don't be silly, of course there is," she said "It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting for us out there. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year-"

"We can't do much by ourselves," said Ron in a defeated voice. "I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practise them, I suppose-"

"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books," she said. "We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong."

"Who?" said Harry, frowning at her.

She heaved a very deep sigh.

"Isn't it obvious?" she said. "I'm talking about you, Harry."*

It was the perfect plan – they needed to learn how to defend themselves and Harry needed to be focusing his energy on something, something that would make him feel involved and useful.

Harry put up a fight naturally and then ended up losing his temper once again and smashing the bowl of essence of Murtlap tentacles she'd spent most of the afternoon preparing. But then she said Vol – Voldemort. And it had calmed him. And he agreed to think about it; that would do for now but this was not something she was going to give up on in a hurry. It was going to happen one way or another.

It had to.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**

***Text between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by the one and only J.K Rowling**


	19. Chapter 19

She bided her time for the next two weeks and said nothing about Harry teaching them. She turned 16 on the 19th of September, apparently it wasn't as significant in the magical world as it was in the muggle one, but she'd still received plenty of presents and cards and had a lovely day. It didn't matter that Snape had walked directly past her while she was carrying her Birthday cake and done nothing but glare at her. Nope. Didn't matter at all. And now it was the start of October and Harry had agreed to teach about 27 of them, they just had to sort out when and where to meet. It was definitely a good start.

But then that bitch had disbanded all groups and _someone _had intercepted Harry's owl. Umbridge was getting more and more full of herself and it wasn't even Christmas yet. They'd carry on with the Defence group of course but they were going to have to be so careful with that toad intent on causing Harry trouble.

* * *

What a shitty few months. 'Shitty life' said a tiny, resentful voice in his head but he quickly suppressed it; he didn't have much time for depressing thoughts. He'd spent his summer being Summoned frequently to the Dark Lords side, he wasn't exactly in favour, none of them were, but the information about Hogwarts and Dumbledore and the Order he'd been able to provide had left him slightly less out of favour than many of the other Death Eaters. As such he hadn't been badly punished thus far, but that didn't make the meetings much less unpleasant, even if he had been spared the necessity of doing any muggle torturing or baiting; once the Dark Lord moved into the open, all that would change, and having to monitor every word and every facial expression and every thought while he was with his Master was beyond stressful. It was a torture in its own right, even with Occlumency numbing it all somewhat. It wasn't like he got much rest now he was back at Hogwarts either, even if he wasn't involved in trying to protect or obtain that bloody Prophecy, what with essays to mark and lessons to plan, as well as Death Eater and Order meetings. And now he had the additional unpleasantness that was an evil old hag in a fluffy cardigan to deal with as well.

He opened the door to his classroom where the 5th year Gryffindors and Slytherins were waiting. A strange sight met his eyes; Weasley and Potter were holding back a purpling and sweating Longbottom from a rather shocked looking Draco. If he hadn't been so bloody tired, this may have interested him, but as it was…

*"Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" he said, sneering at them. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you."

"You will notice, that we have a guest with us today."

He gestured towards the dim corner of the dungeon where Professor Umbridge was sitting, clipboard on her knee.

"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend – instructions-" he waved his wand "-on the board. Carry on."*

As he walked around the classroom his eyes kept drifting over to Granger, he watched her save Potter's potion twice, the boy was really making it far too easy for Umbridge, and she kept shooting the woman looks of such fierce loathing that it almost made him smile. Almost. He scowled, that girl was trouble. She'd almost made him laugh twice over the summer as well. She was so Gryffindor, so open and blunt and after her declaration of worry for him, he'd felt so wrong footed that when she'd just blurted out "I don't like Sirius", all big eyes and honesty he'd felt so startled, and oddly, so pleased that at least someone appeared to like him more than that dog he'd felt gloriously amused. Then she'd looked shy suddenly and asked him to join her, and stressed and lonely fool that he was he'd sat down. The immediately jumped up and left, cursing her and his weakness. She was trouble, he couldn't fathom why she worried about him, and her worry was something that was at once comforting and irritating. He was nothing to do with her, but he noticed her assessing gaze run over him nearly every time he saw her.

And then she'd just walked straight up to him and asked him for help. Him. Hated Potions Master and Death Eater. He'd known at once that she was referring to Umbridge's blood quill, he couldn't help noticing the marks on Potter's hand teaching a subject that required so much practical work and he'd recognised it at once; the man who had taught him for his Masters had used them frequently on his younger students and relished the power it gave him. But he'd liked Severus, or rather, he'd liked the Dark Lord who'd been the one that had set him up for further training, and so he'd never been forced to use one on himself. At first it had been wonderful to be in favour, that was something he'd certainly never experienced at Hogwarts, but by the end it had just made him feel ill to see so many underage students with bleeding hands and defeated faces. That was probably why he'd been so filled with a white, blinding panic when he'd thought that it was Granger who was suffering at Umbridge's hands. As much of an annoyance as she was, he never wanted to see her look defeated. Ever. She was fiery and brave and bloody infuriating and that was how she should stay. He just wasn't used to students coming to him for help. Especially Gryffindors. And especially Gryffindors who looked at him so openly and earnestly and worried about him. Bloody Granger. The amount of relief he'd felt when her hand had been unblemished had surprised and bothered him. Why should it matter if she was being forced to use the blood quill? It certainly wouldn't kill her, but all the same he'd been relieved it was only Potter, and he'd said so. Or something along those lines, he couldn't quite remember, but then she'd looked furious, so furious her hair had seemed to crackle with electricity and she'd shouted at him. Told him off more like. And he'd been furious back and she'd looked up at him, filled with disappointment once more and something in his chest had hurt and he'd felt the need to try and explain himself. Then she'd looked at him with such understanding and empathy it had made him feel physically sick, he didn't deserve a look like that, he was a cold evil Death Eater bastard and good little Gryffindor girls should not look at him like that. And then Granger had apologised to him, apologised for what he'd been through, as if it was somehow her fault and she wanted forgiveness. Stupid girl.

He'd had to know if she still trusted him, in that moment her trust had suddenly and inexplicably become something important to him, something he really didn't want to lose. "Yes of course I do." she'd said, and he'd been relieved again and it had almost made him hate her because somehow she'd managed to become something slightly more than just another student to him, meaning she now had a hold on him and he hated that, yet another person who had something over him. Then instead of sending her running out of his dungeons never to return, he'd actually helped her and then run himself. He was pathetic.

And then, on top of all that, she'd walked past him on her Birthday, carrying some huge and elaborate Birthday cake and she'd smiled at him, all open faced and hopeful. Insufferable girl, if she kept that up he'd have to have words with her. His life certainly wasn't anything worth celebrating but he didn't fancy dying just yet and he wasn't above suspicion within the Death Eaters, the last thing he needed was for anyone to notice the muggleborn best friend of Harry Potter smiling at him. She did have quite a nice smile though... No she didn't. She was plain and insufferable.

Umbridge's girlish voice brought him back to the present.

*"Well, the class seem fairly advanced for their level," she said briskly to his back. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."

The Ministry are idiots, he longed to say but kept his mouth shut. Instead he straightened up slowly and turned to look at her.

"Now … how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard.

"Fourteen years," Snape replied, keeping his expression unfathomable. Potter was staring at him. Brat.

"You applied first for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape.

"Yes," he said quietly.

"But you were unsuccessful?"

So this was where she was going. He felt his lip curl.

"Obviously."

Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard.

"And you have applied regularly for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes," he said quietly, feeling very angry now.

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge.

"I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily, he hated being undermined, especially in front of students.

"Oh, I shall," said Professor Umbridge, with a sickly sweet smile.

"I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed in dislike.

"Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge, "yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' - er - backgrounds."*

Of course. Fudge had told his little crony all about his Dark Mark but naturally she didn't want to question him about that, seeing as the Ministry were doing their very best to stick their heads very far into the sand wherever anything vaguely Dark Lord related was concerned. Idiots.

* * *

Sirius was an idiot and now she was very worried. Not only had Umbridge nearly grabbed his head in the fire, he also thought their illegal Defence group was a great idea. That made her think it just might be a very bad one if it was the kind of reckless, stupid thing Sirius would do himself.

*"I was just wondering," she said, her voicing her fears to the boys the next day, "whether we're doing the right thing, starting this Defence Against the Dark Arts group."

"What?" said Harry and Ron together.

"Hermione, it was your idea in the first place!" said Ron indignantly.

"I know," Hermione said, twisting her fingers together. "But after talking to Snuffles . . ."

"But he's all for it," said Harry.

"Yes," she said, staring at the window again. "Yes, that's what made me think maybe it wasn't a good idea after all . . ."

Peeves floated over them on his stomach, peashooter at the ready; automatically all three of them lifted their bags to cover their heads until he had passed.

"Let's get this straight," said Harry angrily, as they put their bags back on the floor, "Sirius agrees with us, so you don't think we should do it anymore?"

She felt tense and rather miserable. Now staring at her own hands, she said, "Do you honestly trust his judgement?"

"Yes, I do!" said Harry at once. "He's always given us great advice!"

An ink pellet whizzed past them, striking Katie Bell squarely in the ear. She watched Katie leap to her feet and start throwing things at Peeves; it was a few moments before she spoke again and she chose her words very carefully.

"You don't think he has become … sort of ... reckless ... since he's been cooped up in Grimmauld Place? You don't think he's … kind of ... living through us?"

"What d'you mean, 'living through us'?" Harry retorted.

"I mean ... well, I think he'd love to be forming secret Defence societies right under the nose of someone from the Ministry ... I think he's really frustrated at how little he can do where he is ... so I think he's keen to kind of … egg us on."

Ron looked utterly perplexed.

"Sirius is right"' he said, "you do sound just like my mother."

She bit her lip and did not answer. That hadn't gone well, not that she'd expected it to, but still. She sighed. She did think they were doing the right thing but it was incredibly reckless, and it wasn't just her, Ron and Harry's lives that would be affected, there were 25 others. She wondered vaguely what Snape would think then quickly changed her train of thought; Snape would be angry either way. The bell rang just as Peeves swooped down on Katie and emptied an entire ink bottle over her head.*

* * *

The Room of Requirement was just wonderful. It gave them everything they could possible need, it was like the castle itself thought they were doing the right thing. And the first lesson had been great, Harry may not have been a natural leader but he certainly did well when leadership was thrust upon him. She was proud. And she'd noticed his temper had been more in check recently, and that made her doubly proud. She just needed to come up with a way for them all to communicate now.

And Hermione did just that in the next few days. It was all because she'd been worrying about Snape again, he'd started to look more taut and stressed recently and she'd noticed he wasn't eating very much in the Great Hall either. She'd been lying awake one night, thinking about Snape drunk, Snape's nightmare, Snape sitting with her at 4am, Snape shocked when she asked him to be careful, Snape breathing with her when she was scared, Snape in pain from his Dark Mark, Snape healing her hands, Snape in pain from his Dark Mark again, Snape's hand under hers, Snape Summoned…

And then it just sort of, came to her.

*"You know what these remind me of?" Harry asked.

"No, what's that?"

"The Death Eaters' scars. Voldemort touches one of them, and all their scars burn, and they know they've got to join him."

"Well … yes," she said quietly, wondering again when Harry became so insightful, "that is where I got the idea ... but you'll notice I decided to engrave the date on bits of metal rather than on our members' skin."

"Yeah ... I prefer your way," said Harry, grinning, as he slipped his Galleon into his pocket.*

* * *

Snape *booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin Quidditch practice so often that the Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play. He turned a deaf ear to the many reports of Slytherin attempts to hex Gryffindor players in the corridors, and when Alicia Spinnet turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast they obscured her vision and obstructed her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eye-witnesses who insisted they had seen the Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley, hit her from behind with a jinx while she worked in the library.* That was when Hermione decided there may be something seriously wrong with her; far from finding his antics foul and unjust, she found them rather amusing and it seemed like something Ron would do, which made her feel rather fond of him. Oh dear. But it wasn't as if Quidditch was quite so important these days surely? Poor Ron certainly seemed to think it was still vital, seeing him so nervous and pale made something simmer behind her sternum, and she thoughtlessly kissed him on the cheek. Well that was weird.

As she sat back down she noticed Snape glaring daggers at her across the Hall. What on Earth had she done now? Aside from lessons, she'd had very little to do with her Potions Professor since she'd asked him for help in September. It was now mid November. She could think of no reason for him looking at her like that. Strange man. She smiled at her cereal.

She wasn't smiling anymore when all the Slytherins were singing Weasley is our King. That was just disgusting, who would want to win like that anyway? That's what they're like, she thought viciously then immediately felt bad. Snape wasn't singing. But he was smirking. A lot. What was it he said? "People who cannot control themselves and their emotions are pathetic and weak and deserve everything they get." Or they're just … human. It was hardly surprising Ron was making a mess of this match.

* * *

*"Have you seen Ron?" She asked Harry much later in a low voice.

Harry shook his head.

"I think he's avoiding us" she said. "Where do you think he - ?"

But at that precise moment, there was a creaking sound behind them as the Fat Lady swung forwards and Ron came clambering through the portrait hole. He was very pale indeed and there was snow in his hair. When he saw Harry and Hermione, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Where have you been?" she said anxiously, springing up.

"Walking," Ron mumbled. He was still wearing his Quidditch things.

"You look frozen, come and sit down!"

Ron walked to the fireside and sank into the chair furthest from Harry's, not looking at him.

"I'm sorry," Ron mumbled, looking at his feet.

"What for?" said Harry.

"For thinking I can play Quidditch," said Ron. "I'm going to resign first thing tomorrow."

"If you resign," said Harry testily, "there'll only be three players left on the team." And when Ron looked puzzled, he said, "I've been given a lifetime ban. So've Fred and George."

"What?" Ron yelped.*

Harry looked to be in physical pain so she relayed the story. It _was _only a game but this was just another example of Umbridge being an unfair little toad. She hated that woman so much. Harry had really started to seem better recently and now…. He loved Quidditch, and that hag had taken it away from him.

But Hagrid was back, he was beaten and bloody and exhausted but he was back and he was pleased to see them. It didn't matter that he hadn't been successful with the giants – well it sort of did - it was just so good to see him. His homecoming cheered up even Harry and Ron, there was hope for them all.

* * *

She couldn't believe how horrid that evil old hag toad bitch was to Hagrid in their lesson. It was the most underhanded, foul thing she could conceive, and for someone in government to behave that way … the Ministry had hit an all time low. Hermione was sitting in the Library trying to read about Healing again but her focus was slipping, for one she still hadn't really found anything so far about treatment for the Cruciatus Curse, except the odd spell to make the patient more comfortable, and for another, she was still in a towering fury over Umbridge. The image of her speaking slowly and miming to Hagrid, as if he was dim-witted savage kept playing in her mind's eye over and over and over …

The lamp on her table exploded.

"Now now Miss Granger, you may wish to get a hold on that temper of yours or you'll end up like Potter." Said Snape in his cold and sneering voice appearing out of nowhere.

She felt herself flush and took a few deep breaths, looking up into his face. This was the first time she'd seen him up close for months. His sallow skin was almost grey, the ever present dark shadows around his eyes looked almost black and the lines around his eyes looked somehow tight. A muscle by his mouth twitched as they looked at one another, and a fleeting change of expression overtook his face and was gone too quickly for her to decipher it.

"How are you?" She asked him quietly, a knot of worry deep inside her.

Snape glared at her before quickly uttering some spell around them both Hermione didn't have time to identify. He bent very close to her face looking enraged.

"Anyone could be listening you stupid girl." He hissed and she paled. Shit.

"I'm so sorry Professor, I just didn't think-"

"That," he said, his voice soft and deadly, "is obvious."

She bowed her head, feeling incredibly contrite and waited for him to leave. He didn't.

"Why are you researching Healing?" He demanded, indicating to the book lying open in front of her.

"It seemed a good idea what with all that's going on as well as having Harry and Ron for friends." She smiled timidly up at him but her smile faltered at his stony expression.

"The real reason if you please." He snapped.

She remained silent for a time, thinking hard, she'd almost told the truth but her initial motivation had been different; she somehow doubted Snape would much appreciate her researching cures for Unforgivables in case he was ever hurt and needed her. She was well aware how unlikely such an event was but all the same…

"I'm just interested, is all." She answered, not daring to tell him the whole truth.

He glared at her.

She summoned some Gryffindor courage.

"So how are you?"

His face flushed, with anger she presumed, and his glare intensified. She sighed and slumped back into her chair.

"Fine. Don't tell me sir. Leave me here to worry." She said, her voice tired and defeated.

He frowned at her, looked on the verge of opening his mouth, then quickly turned and stalked away, his robes billowing behind him.

She hoped he was alright. Bastard.

* * *

**So here we are, I know this chapter's not particularly Snermione orientated but the next few should be more so I think. Thanks for reading :)**

***Text between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - J.K Rowling.**


	20. Chapter 20

Voldemort's return became much more real when Mr Weasley was attacked. She woke one snowy morning to hear rumours that Harry had had some dream about Ron's Dad and he and all the Weasleys had disappeared in the night, and before she could even feel confused, Dobby had told her to go to the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore was looking out of his window with Snape by his side when she entered. He immediately turned to her, piercing blue eyes twinkling and a slight smile around his mouth, despite his obvious tiredness.

"Miss Granger, I should imagine you already have heard a version of last night's events. The truth is this; Mr Weasley was attacked by a snake last night while on duty for the Order. He is in St. Mungo's and we are hopeful of his complete recovery. I was alerted to his injuries by Harry. He witnessed the attack through a dream." He told her softly, without preamble.

She stood there staring at him, a feeling of heavy sickness starting in her stomach and spreading through her. She had a million questions but couldn't seem to form a single one.

"Tea Miss Granger? Sherbet lemon?"

Words.

"No thank you Professor. Where's Harry and Ron and other Weasleys? Are they at St. Mungo's?" Her voice sounded very hoarse.

"Yes, I believe they will be there by now but I should imagine they'll be staying at Grimmauld Place over Christmas."

"I want to go there."

Dumbledore fixed her with his stare that felt every bit as revealing as an X-ray.

"I was under the impression you were going on holiday with your parents." He said heavily.

"I was." She answered, wondering how on earth he knew about that. "But I want to be with them. Harry and the Weasleys."

He nodded, looking very grave. Snape was staring at her too but she didn't quite feel up to looking back at him, his endless black eyes were entrancing and sometimes really quite frightening.

"Your parents-" Dumbledore began but she cut him off.

"Don't worry, I won't tell them anything, I'll just say I need to study or something."

The headmaster frowned.

"I was merely going that they will be disappointed not to see you Miss Granger. I know you spent the majority of your summer at Grimmauld Place as well."

She felt a huge stab of guilt but quickly suppressed it and stared back at Dumbledore defiantly; this was what she chose a long time ago. She chose magic. She chose Hogwarts. She chose Harry. That wasn't about to change.

"You'll need to wait until term officially ends until you can join them, Professor Umbridge isn't thrilled that 5 students disappeared right under her nose, if another on went missing … well." His eyes twinkled. Hermione hoped Umbridge was sufficiently furious. She smiled grimly.

"I'll arrange for either Professor McGonagall or Professor Snape here to escort you from Hogwarts, you can catch the Knight Bus once you're out of the protective boarders."

"Thank you sir."

She didn't want to have to wait a whole day but at least she could go eventually.

Then something dawned on her.

"Sir, Harry's dreams are normally about Voldemort," Snape flinched slightly but she chose to ignore it, "the snake…"

Dumbledore smiled suddenly and she found herself smiling back a little, although she wasn't entirely sure why.

"Astute as ever."

She waited for him to continue but he didn't. Maybe she'd get some more information out of Harry when she saw him. She sighed. Harry was probably riddled with guilt about the whole thing by now, he'd find some way to make it his fault. Poor Harry. And poor, poor Mr Weasley. She hoped he was alright. Suddenly she just really wanted to be by herself.

"May I leave sir? I need to send an owl to my parents and finish my packing."

Dumbledore pinned her with a piercing stare once again.

"Yes Miss Granger. Be at the Entrance Hall tomorrow at 1pm." He said finally.

"Yes sir. Thank you."

She turned and left, leaning against the wall once she was alone and feeling tears prickle in her eyes. Not yet. She decided to have a huge breakfast, pick up a few more layers, send an owl home and then spend the remainder of the day walking around the castle grounds killing time. She'd finished packing ages ago.

* * *

Hermione watched the school owl fly away from the castle with so many different feelings playing out in her chest she felt like a human kaleidoscope. When it was just a tiny dot on the horizon she turned and began heading down the stairs. Something very black was obstructing her path. Snape. She was so close to tears she didn't much feel like seeing him so she flashed him a quick smile and carried on her way, throwing herself out of the double doors and setting off briskly towards the lake. Logically, she knew that Harry had gone with the Weasleys because he'd been the one that had the dream, but she couldn't help the tiny, illogical part of her that felt left out and angry. She cared about Mr Weasley very much. She knew it was just old insecurities playing on her mind but it was still very unpleasant.

Clearing a hole through the snow with her wand and setting up a few well placed Warming charms, Hermione sat down cross-legged and allowed a few tears to fall from her eyes. For Mr Weasley, for Harry, for her disappointed parents and for the end of peacetime. Sometimes it was very good and very necessary to cry. The grounds of Hogwarts were quite deserted and the snow muffled every sound around her; it started to feel like she was the only person in existence, it was something that was somehow both isolating and wonderful. She dried her eyes and wiped her face. That was enough now.

She wondered absent-mindedly if the lake froze solid, and if it did, what happened to the giant squid and the Merpeople? She heard footsteps approaching her, somewhat muffled by the snow. Hermione turned and saw Snape walking swiftly towards her looking thunderous. She frowned. She wasn't out of bounds, it wasn't after hours…. What on earth was she doing wrong?

"Sitting alone in the snow all because the poor little Gryffindor feels left out and hard done by?" He snarled when he was closer. "Freezing to death will be of no use to Mr Weasley or your little friends."

She growled in frustration, stood, and pulled Snape bodily into her circle of warming charms by his arm. His ever-present snide remarks were tiring and in this case, rather inaccurate. Well, the part about freezing to death anyway. She glared at him as the realisation dawned on his face, followed by shock and he looked down to where she was still holding his arm. She quickly let go and sat back down on the floor with her back to him.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

He sat down next to her and she tried to hide her smile behind the sleeve of her cloak. Neither of them spoke for a minute, then…

"What happens to the giant squid and the Merpeople when the lake freezes?" She asked him, looking at his profile. His hair was greasy as always and he looked tired and tense but oddly much younger when she was level with him. She saw a slight crinkle form around his eyes when he looked at her and she immediately associated it with amusement, then vaguely wondered why.

"I would assume that if it is only the top of the lake that freezes, then they continue with their lives as usual and when the lake freezes solid, they get frozen as well."

It was nice not to hear a sneer in his voice.

"But they don't die?"

"Magic."

She huffed out a laugh and then they settled back into a silence.

"Mr Weasley will be fine." He said stiffly and she stared at him, realising he was trying to reassure her and wondering what on Earth had happened to her Professor.

"Thank you sir." She said quietly.

"I had nothing to do with his recovery." He snapped and glared at her. She couldn't help it. She laughed. Loudly. It seemed to ring in the air around them. Snape stared at her, evidently just as surprised as she was. She grinned at him and he looked even more surprised which in turn made her chuckle. Poor man. His being so shocked at someone smiling at him wasn't really funny but her emotions were all over the place and at the minute she felt gloriously and inexplicably happy. Then an unwelcome and chilling thought entered her head, making her smile fade instantly.

"Will you be punished sir? For Harry seeing what had happened and Mr Weasley being saved?"

He stared at her, a slight frown marring his expression and he sighed, a big, world-weary sigh that left her feeling breathless somehow.

"I doubt even someone as vicious as the Dark Lord could find a way to make that my fault." He answered, but he looked a little worried all the same.

"Do you get Summoned a lot in term time?" She asked, mentally crossing her fingers and toes.

His stare intensified, his black eyes seeming impossibly deep, but she met his gaze unflinchingly and unwaveringly and eventually he seemed to slump and looked at the floor, some of his hair slipping forward and curtaining his face. She wanted to reach out and push the hair back so she could see his expression, she started to reach a hand out then froze and quickly pulled it back, praying he hadn't noticed. This was Professor Snape. She could not touch his hair. However much she wanted to. Wait … did she want to touch his hair? Yes you do, a voice answered for her, and you've wanted to hold his hand before, more than once, and now you want to rest your head on his shoulder. No I don't she thought fiercely, but... Shit. What on earth was going on?

She was interrupted from her startling realisations by his voice, deep and soft and low.

"It's not as frequent while school is on but I'm sure I'll be expected to more than make up for my absence when the holidays start."

She still couldn't see his expression but his voice sounded bitter and desolate.

"I'm sorry." She said softly.

He turned to glare at her.

"It has nothing to do with you." He snapped, then turned to stare at the ground again.

She shivered and renewed the charms around them, wishing she could do something to make his life a little easier.

"If you get hurt-"

"That is none of your concern."

"Even if that were true you can't expect me not to worry about you! I care about you Professor Snape, I care about all my teachers but you're the one that has to go to _him. _The thought of you injured and alone in the snow … at Christmas" she broke off, feeling a lump form in her throat. She stared at the floor.

"The Headmaster normally sends Fawkes to wait for me if he knows I've been Summoned. If I was badly injured, Fawkes would fetch him." His voice sounded very stiff, almost forced.

"And if the Headmaster doesn't know you've been Summoned?" Hermione said, her voice barely above a whisper and she looked up at him, her amber eyes meeting his startled black ones.

He didn't answer for some time, they just looked at one another, and his eyes seemed infinite, so infinite she wondered if she'd fall into them, but she didn't look away and neither did he … time just seemed to slip away…

And then he looked away from her, staring at the ground once more and she found herself so out of breath she wondered briefly if she'd forgotten to breathe the entire time they'd been looking at one another.

"I'll be fine." He said, and it took her several seconds to remember what they'd been talking about.

"I really hope so." She answered honestly, still looking at him, but he was avoiding her eyes.

"Was Umbridge really furious when she found out Harry and the Weasleys had disappeared?" She asked, in an attempt to get back to some semblance of normality, and trying and failing to keep the hope out of her voice.

Snape turned towards her again, smirking this time, the amused crinkle back around his eyes.

"She was bright red in the face and she stamped her foot at Professor Dumbledore. Twice."

His voice had been entirely neutral but Hermione could sense his amusement all the same. She'd noticed that none of teachers liked Umbridge and it felt comforting to know that students and teachers were both united against her, even if it wasn't all that obvious.

She grinned at him again, picturing the toad having a tantrum and wondering what she could possibly do to insight another one.

It was really quite dark when Snape informed her that they shouldn't miss dinner. Time seemed to be slipping away from her rather a lot recently. He stood and told her to wait 15 minutes before following him inside. She watched him leave with a odd feeling in her chest; she knew that she only had to wait because it wouldn't do for him to be seen walking anywhere with the mudblood friend of Harry Potter, but it made her feel as if they were doing something forbidden all the same. The thought was a weird one.

* * *

Hermione told herself very firmly that she wasn't disappointed when it was Professor McGonagall that met her in the Entrance Hall and took her to get the Knight Bus. But then she was hurtling towards London with Moody by her side, gripping his arm tightly and focusing so firmly on not falling over that all thoughts of Snape left her mind. And then she arrived at Headquarters to find that Harry was hiding away because he was convinced he'd somehow managed to become a snake in the Ministry of Magic and bite Mr Weasley.

That boy.

*"Harry, you've had these dreams before," she said. "You had flashes of what Voldemort was up to last year."

"This was different," said Harry, shaking his head. "I was inside that snake. It was like I was the snake … what if Voldemort somehow transported me to London - ?"

"One day," said Hermione, thoroughly exasperated, "you'll read Hogwarts: A History, and perhaps it will remind you that you can't Apparate or Disapparate inside Hogwarts. Even Voldemort couldn't just make you fly out of your dormitory, Harry."

"You didn't leave your bed, mate," said Ron. "I saw you thrashing around in your sleep for at least a minute before we could wake you up."*

And just like that it shaped up to be a very Merry Christmas.

* * *

Mr Weasley was doing well despite his run in with muggle stitches. But then *at the small window set into the double doors that marked the start of a corridor signposted SPELL DAMAGE, a man was peering out at them all with his nose pressed against the glass. He had wavy blond hair, bright blue eyes and a broad vacant smile that revealed dazzlingly white teeth.

"Blimey!" said Ron, also staring at the man.

"Oh, my goodness," she said. "Professor Lockhart."

Their ex-Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher pushed open the doors and moved towards them, wearing a long lilac dressing gown.

"Well, hello there!" he said. "I expect you'd like my autograph, would you?"

"Er - how are you, Professor?" said Ron, sounding slightly guilty.

"I'm very well indeed, thank you!" said Lockhart exuberantly, pulling a rather battered peacock-feather quill from his pocket. "Now, how many autographs would you like? I can do joined-up writing now, you know!"

"Er - we don't want any at the moment, thanks," said Ron, raising his eyebrows at Harry, who asked, "Professor, should you be wandering around the corridors? Shouldn't you be in a ward?"

The smile faded slowly from Lockhart's face. For a few moments he gazed intently at Harry, then he said, "Haven't we met?"

"Er ... yeah, we have," said Harry. "You used to teach us at Hogwarts, remember?"

"Teach?" repeated Lockhart, looking faintly unsettled. "Me? Did I?"

And then the smile reappeared upon his face so suddenly it was rather alarming.

"Taught you everything you know, I expect, did I? Well, how about those autographs, then? Shall we say around dozen, you can give them to all your little friends then and nobody will be left out!"

But just then a head poked out of a door at the far end of the corridor and a voice called, "Gilderoy, you naughty boy, where have you wandered off to?"

A motherly-looking Healer wearing a tinsel wreath in her hair came bustling up the corridor, smiling warmly at them.

"Oh, Gilderoy, you've got visitors! How lovely, and on Christmas Day, too! Do you know, he never gets visitors, poor lamb, and I can't think why, he's such a sweetie, aren't you?"

"We're doing autographs!" Gilderoy told the Healer with another glittering smile. "They want loads of them, won't take no for an answer! I just hope we've got enough photographs!"

"Listen to him," said the Healer, taking Lockhart's arm and beaming fondly at him as though he were a precocious two-year-old. "He was rather well known a few years ago; we very much hope that this liking for giving autographs is a sign that his memory might be starting to come back. Will you step this way? He's in a closed ward, you know, he must have slipped out while I was bringing in the Christmas presents, the door's usually kept locked ... not that he's dangerous! But," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "he's a bit of a danger to himself, bless him ... doesn't know who he is, you see, wanders off and can't remember how to get back ... it is nice of you to have come to see him."

"Er," said Ron, gesturing uselessly at the floor above, "actually, we were just – er-"

But the Healer was smiling expectantly at them, and Ron's feeble mutter of 'going to have a cup of tea' trailed away into nothingness. They looked at each other helplessly, then followed Lockhart and his Healer along the corridor.

"Let's not stay long"' Ron said quietly.*

The whole experience was rather disturbing really, not least because she couldn't believe she'd _ever _had a crush on that man. But then she saw Neville, and found out why he was brought up by his Gran, and suddenly Christmas didn't feel so Merry any more. Tortured to insanity. Somehow she'd never really thought that anything could be worse than dying, or someone you loved dying but this, this was so much worse. They'd been tortured for so long they'd lost their minds. Alive but not living. Poor Neville.

She thought of Snape, having to make up for his absence during term time. 'Just after effects from the Cruciatus' he'd said when he'd got back from his first Summons, so dismissively it had scared her, but she'd never considered that this could happen to him. The thought of Professor Snape in St Mungo's, looking thin and worn and not quite alive with wispy grey hair and a spattering of dribble on his chin was horrifying and haunting and oh dear God she hoped he would never ever ever end up like that.

Things didn't really cheer up much after that either. Sirius became sulky again once Christmas was over and his mood seemed rather infectious. She didn't much want to stay at headquarters but, for the first time, she didn't much feel like going back to Hogwarts either.

* * *

*"'Harry, dear," said Mrs Weasley poking her head into the bedroom, where Ron and Harry were playing wizard chess watched by herself, Ginny and Crookshanks, "could you come down to the kitchen? Professor Snape would like a word with you."

Professor Snape. Her heart seemed to stop. He was here. At Grimmauld Place. That must mean he was ok, surely? She'd been filled with worry for him ever since Christmas Day, unable to get the image of him insane and decrepit out of her head.

"Squash him - squash him, he's only a pawn, you idiot. Sorry, Mrs Weasley, what did you say?"

"Professor Snape, dear. In the kitchen. He'd like a word."

Harry's mouth fell open in horror. She simultaneously experienced jealousy and irritation. Crookshanks, whom she'd been restraining with difficulty for the past quarter of an hour, leapt gleefully on to the board and set the pieces running for cover, squealing at the top of their voices.

"Snape?" said Harry blankly.

"Professor Snape, dear," said Mrs Weasley reprovingly. "Now come on, quickly, he says he can't stay long."*

Professor Snape was here. Would she be able to see him? Speak to him? Even if she only got a glance at him it would put her mind at ease. This is silly, she told herself, she'd see him tomorrow anyway. But she didn't want to have to wait, not if he was here…

* * *

She followed the rest of the Weasleys downstairs to greet Mr Weasley in a sort of trance, exclaiming and smiling and laughing right on cue but without paying the slightest bit of attention. As they approached the kitchen she heard raised voices.

*"NO!" Harry yelled, "Sirius, don't!"

"Are you calling me a coward?" roared Sirius,

"Why, yes, I suppose I am," said Snape.

"Harry - get - out - of - it!" snarled Sirius.*

And then they all burst into the room and froze, *gazing at the scene in front of them, which was suspended in mid-action, both Sirius and Snape looking towards the door with their wands pointing into each other's faces and Harry immobile between them, a hand stretched out to each, trying to force them apart.

"Merlin's beard," said Mr Weasley, the smile sliding off his face, "what's going on here?"

Both Sirius and Snape lowered their wands. Each wore an expression of utmost contempt, yet the unexpected entrance of so many witnesses seemed to have brought them to their senses. Snape pocketed his wand, turned on his heel and swept back across the kitchen, passing the Weasleys without comment. At the door he looked back.

"Six o'clock, Monday evening, Potter."

And he was gone.*

Hermione stood frozen. Then in the commotion that followed she slipped out of the kitchen unnoticed and looked around frantically for Snape, he was nowhere. In a last, ditch attempt to find him she flung open the front door and the man himself almost fell on top of her; evidently he'd been leaning on it from the outside.

"Fuck!" He cursed as he regained his balance, glaring at her, then looking surprised, then troubled, then something that looked suspiciously like pleased before his face shut down completely. She put the door on the latch and pulled it shut behind them. A slightly uncomfortable silence settled. She was filled with relief that Snape seemed relatively ok but she daren't ask just how he was after his encounter with Sirius. She wanted to say something reassuring or comforting or anything really but came up with a blank.

"I _really_ don't like Sirius." She blurted out, then felt herself go bright red. Surely she could have come up with something better than that …

Snape chuckled.

It was low and quiet and rumbling and beautiful.

Snape had chuckled.

She'd made Professor Snape chuckle.

Chuckling.

A feeling like molten gold started in her heart and seemed to fill every inch of her body. She felt like she was glowing.

She beamed up at him but his face had shut down again and he was sneering at her. She'd never felt more aggrieved to see his sneer.

Taking a huge breath and holding it for a count of 5, she grabbed his hand, gave it a tight squeeze and slipped back inside, getting nothing more than an impression of her Professor's startled and flushed face before she was back in the kitchen, no one noticing her brief absence.

* * *

She tried to hide her jealously when Harry told them about learning Occlumency, she'd read a bit about it and it was really fascinating. Snape must be a wonderful Occlumens to hide his true loyalty from Voldemort. Harry would get to learn from the best.

*"Dumbledore wants to stop you having those dreams about Voldemort. Well, you won't be sorry not to have them anymore, will you?"

"Extra lessons with Snape?" said Ron, sounding aghast. "I'd rather have the nightmares!"*

What an idiot.

* * *

**My 20th chapter! I don't know why I find this so exciting but I really do! Thank you so much for reading this story, I can't even type how amazing it is to know there's people from all over the place reading it and (hopefully) enjoying it. **

**Thank you to everyone who reviews as well, it's so wonderful to hear from you and it's very helpful - I find it impossible to view my writing from an objective point of view. **

**And I just reached 200 follows! It's a good, good day. I'll try and have another chapter by the end of the weekend but it's a busy one, it may end up being Monday or Tuesday.**

**Thank you so much internet and readers and yay!**

**I'll shush now I think I'm embarrassing myself.**

***Text between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by the Goddess J.K Rowling.**


	21. Chapter 21

*"How did it go?' Hermione whispered, as soon as Harry returned from his first Occlumency lesson. "Are you all right, Harry?"

"Yeah ... fine ... I dunno," said Harry impatiently. "Listen ... I've just realised something ..."

And he told them what he had just seen and deduced.

"So … so are you saying …" whispered Ron, as Madam Prince swept past, squeaking slightly "that the weapon - the thing You-Know-Who's after - is in the Ministry of Magic?"

"In the Department of Mysteries, it's got to be," Harry whispered. "I saw that door when your Dad took me down to the courtrooms for my hearing and it's definitely the same one he was guarding when the snake bit him."

She let out a long, slow sigh.

"Of course," she breathed.

"Of course what?" said Ron rather impatiently.

"Ron, think about it... Sturgis Podmore was trying to get through a door at the Ministry of Magic ... it must have been that one, it's too much of a coincidence!"

"How come Sturgis was trying to break in when he's on our side?" said Ron.

"Well, I don't know," she admitted. "That is a bit odd ..."

"So what's in the Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked Ron. "Has your dad ever mentioned anything about it?"

"I know they call the people who work in there 'Unspeakables'," said Ron, frowning. "Because no one really seems to know what they do - weird place to have a weapon."

"It's not weird at all, it makes perfect sense," said Hermione. "It will be something top secret that the Ministry has been developing, I expect ... Harry, are you sure you're all right?"

Harry had just run both his hands hard over his forehead as though trying to iron it.

"Yeah ... fine ..." he said, lowering his hands, which were trembling. "I just feel a bit ... I don't like Occlumency much."

"I expect anyone would feel shaky if they'd had their mind attacked over and over again," she said sympathetically, wondering if Snape was okay; she couldn't imagine he'd enjoyed being inside the head of someone he hated. "Look, let's get back to the common room, we'll be a bit more comfortable there."*

* * *

As soon as she read the Daily Prophet report announcing the mass breakout from Azkaban, her first thought was for Snape. Her eyes immediately found him at the high table. He didn't look hurt. She sighed in relief, then faltered. It didn't look like he'd been involved in the breakout but there would surely be some sort of celebration? And her Professor would surely be expected to attend? She often wished she knew when Snape was Summoned so she could wait for him and make sure he was ok, but she knew her Professor would never, ever allow it. But if she could predict some occasions when he would be Summoned, like this one…

*"I don't believe this," snarled Harry, "Fudge is blaming the breakout on Sirius?"

"What other options does he have?" she said bitterly. "He can hardly say, 'Sorry, everyone, Dumbledore warned me this might happen, the Azkaban guards have joined Lord Voldemort' - stop whimpering, Ron – 'and now Voldemort's worst supporters have broken out, too.' I mean, he's spent a good six months telling everyone you and Dumbledore are liars, hasn't he?"*

* * *

That night she waited for Snape by the gates, surrounded by warming charms, wrapped up in layers of clothing and under a Disillusionment Charm. She'd considered leaving about a 100 times – she didn't even know for sure that he'd been Summoned, she'd given the Marauders map back to Harry at the beginning of the year and could think of no reason to ask to borrow it – but there was this feeling of foreboding in the pit of her stomach that increased tenth fold every time she went to leave. So she stayed. Hermione was a very rational and logical girl most of the time, but once in a while brains had to give way to instinct, and right now her instincts were telling her to stay put and wait, however foolish she felt.

It was past 5 in the morning when she heard the crack of Apparition which startled her out of her sleepy stupor. And there he was. He'd pulled of his silver mask the moment he'd Apparated and she was immensely glad of that; the thing gave her the creeps. He pulled open the gates, shut them behind himself and then slowly slid down them, ending up sitting with his knees close to his chest and his head resting on the gates. Hermione dropped her Charms and his head snapped in her direction, she couldn't see his expression but the lack of shouting seemed a positive sign. She walked slowly towards him and his eyes followed her progress. He said nothing. Finally, when she was standing right in front of him, she thought she understood why. He was just too tired. Professor Snape looked like he'd spent days, weeks even, being violently sick; his skin was sweaty and slick, his skin almost yellow, he was gaunt and he looked liked he'd received two hard punches, one to each eye. Her heart ached for him and in that moment she was immeasurably pleased she'd waited. She slid down the gates to sit next to him, wondering what on earth she should do now. Snape shivered, she turned to him and he'd shut his eyes tight, he shivered again, this time more violently. With an aching chest she cast the strongest Warming Charms around them she could manage and took of her outer cloak, timidly placing it over his slumped form and feeling a wave of panic when he didn't berate her, didn't yell, or protest, or react at all.

"Professor…" She said, fear turning her voice to a whisper.

"Tell no one." He choked out through clenched teeth.

"Of course not. I won't tell a soul. I promise."

Her chest was tight. As if she would tell anyone about this, as if it was shameful or amusing or _gossip_. Oh God she cared about this man. How could she help him?

Hermione shuffled closer, stopping when they were sitting shoulder pressed to shoulder. She felt Snape's entire body tense.

"You're not hurt?" She asked him quietly.

"No." He answered, his voice terse and his body rigid, but he didn't pull away. "Why are you here?"

"I guessed you'd be Summoned after the breakout."

"But why are you _here?" _He persisted.

"Because I care about you." She answered immediately then felt herself blush, well, it was the truth.

Snape turned his head towards her, looking sceptical. Their heads were very close. She could count the lines around his eyes.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

He leant away from her suddenly and threw up. Slumped over he cast Aguamenti straight into his mouth and spat it out again, drawing in heaving, ragged breaths. She stood up.

"Right, that's it. You need to go to bed. Now."

And before he had time to protest she dragged him to his feet, wrapped her cloak around his shoulders and started pulling him towards the castle. It was time to channel Molly Weasley.

"Miss Granger, stop this at once." His voice was feeble.

She carried on pulling him…

"Miss Granger! 5 points from Gryffindor."

She carried on…

"MISS GRANGER."

…

"Fine! Fine! But I can walk you insufferable woman."

She let go and Snape marched off. Or rather, he tried to march off but couldn't seem to keep the pace up. She fell into step beside him, trying to hide her smile. He was stubborn beyond belief. They walked together in silence and he let her into his rooms without protest and fell into his favourite armchair. She sat on the floor and started taking off his shoes.

"What on earth are you doing?" He snapped, yanking his foot away.

"I'm taking your shoes off. You need sleep and you need it now, it's not long till lessons tomorrow. I take it you'll still be teaching?"

"Of course I will."

"Well then."

She started undoing his shoes again. He sighed heavily but let her this time. She eased the first shoe off his foot and pulled off his sock. Black. Naturally. She smiled at his bare foot and repeated the gesture. Snape with bare feet felt very different to Snape with shoes on somehow. She resisted the urge to give him a foot rub. He had nice feet. They were nothing special but they didn't smell and they weren't overly hairy. They were nice. She shook her head.

"Right. Bed. Now."

He glared at her.

"You will speak of this to no one, you will leave now, you will not be here when I wake up and you will leave me well alone. I have enough to deal with without an idiotic Gryffindor acting like a little lost puppy around me. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." She answered, her voice cold, feeling tired and angry and sorry for herself. But then she saw the slight flash of regret in his face and immediately felt better. This was Professor Snape. Of course he wasn't thrilled that the best friend of the boy he hated had seen him in a state once again. She sighed. "Go to bed then."

He glared at her, opened the door to his bedroom and disappeared, slamming it behind him. She sighed again, wondering whether or not she should stay but her Professor had made his wishes very clear, she didn't want to push it and he wasn't hurt, just exhausted, and probably a little traumatised having had to party with some of the most vicious wizards in History.

He had her cloak. The thought made her cheeks feel warm.

Bed. She needed her bed.

* * *

*The students' mood that had changed since the breakout, many weren't satisfied with the Ministry's explanation. It was now also quite common to come across two or three teachers conversing in low, urgent whispers in the corridors, breaking off their conversations the moment they saw students approaching.

"They obviously can't talk freely in the staff room anymore," said Hermione in a low voice, as she, Harry and Ron passed Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout huddled together outside the Charms classroom one day. "Not with Umbridge there."

"Reckon they know anything new?" said Ron, gazing back over his shoulder at the three teachers.

"If they do, we're not going to hear about it, are we?" said Harry angrily. "Not after Decree ... what number are we on now?" For new notices had appeared on the house notice boards the morning after news of the Azkaban breakout:

BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach. The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-six.

Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor

This latest Decree had been the subject of a great number of jokes among the students. Lee Jordan had pointed out to Umbridge that by the terms of the new rule she was not allowed to tell Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap in the back of the class.

"Exploding Snap's got nothing to do with Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor! That's not information relating to your subject!"*

If she kept this up it wasn't going to be long until the students moved into an open rebellion. And Hermione really couldn't wait. In fact she was going to encourage that as much as she could…

* * *

Harry was doing amazingly with the D.A, he was a wonderful teacher and his temper seemed much more manageable. She really wished the same could be said for his Occlumency lessons with Snape. She couldn't decide if he wasn't working hard enough, or if it was something else that was inhibiting him. There was something about his connection to Voldemort that made her uneasy, and if it was now true that Voldemort was aware of their connection and was trying to use it, well then she didn't really think Harry had much chance of blocking him out, although he obviously had to try. This weapon was something else to worry about too. What on earth was it? It must be something horrific for Voldemort to be so intent on obtaining it but she couldn't begin to imagine what it must be… Hermione made a mental note to start reading about Dark weapons in her free time … as well as Healing … and making elf hats.

Before she knew it, January had been and gone and February arrived, bringing warmer and wetter weather, and then the 14th arrived and her plan was about to be set in motion. A fuzzy, warm excitement tingled in her fingers. Oh this was going to be good.

*"Listen, Harry," she said, looking up at him, "this is really important. Do you think you could meet me in the Three Broomsticks around midday?"

"Well . . . I dunno," said Harry uncertainly. "Cho might be expecting me to spend the whole day with her. We never said what we were going to do."

"Well, bring her along if you must," said Hermione urgently. "But will you come?"

"Well . . . all right, but why?"

"I haven't got time to tell you now, I've got to answer this quickly."*

* * *

She felt a little strange walking through Hogsmeade with Luna Lovegood and Rita Skeeter but all the same she was rather excited.

*"I don't suppose I've got any choice, have I?' said Rita, her voice shaking slightly. She opened her crocodile bag once more, withdrew a piece of parchment, and raised her Quick-Quotes Quill.

"Daddy will be pleased," said Luna brightly. A muscle twitched in Rita's jaw.

"OK, Harry?" said Hermione, turning to him. "Ready to tell the public the truth?"

"I suppose," said Harry, watching Rita balancing the Quick-Quotes Quill at the ready on the parchment between them.

"Fire away, then, Rita," she said, fishing a cherry out from the bottom of her glass.*

Blackmail really was wonderful.

* * *

*HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:

THE TRUTH ABOUT HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN

"It's good, isn't it?" said Luna, who had drifted over to the Gryffindor table and now squeezed herself on to the bench between Fred and Ron. "It came out yesterday, I asked Dad to send you a free copy. I expect all these," she waved a hand at the assembled owls still scrabbling around on the table in front of Harry, "are letters from readers."

"That's what I thought," she said eagerly. "Harry, d'you mind if we - ?"

"Help yourself,"

"This one's from a bloke who thinks you're off your rocker," said Ron, glancing down his letter. "Ah well…"

"This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St Mungo's," said Hermione, disappointed.

"This one looks OK, though," said Harry slowly. "Hey she says she believes me!"

"This one's in two minds," said Fred, who had joined in the letter-opening with enthusiasm. "Says you don't come across as a mad person, but he really doesn't want to believe You-Know-Who's back so he doesn't know what to think now. Blimey, what a waste of parchment."

"Here's another one you've convinced, Harry!" she said excitedly. "Having read your side of the story, I am forced to the conclusion that the Daily Prophet has treated you very unfairly ... little though I want to think that He Who Must Not Be Named has returned, I am forced to accept that you are telling the truth … Oh, this is wonderful!"

"What is going on here?" said a falsely sweet, girlish voice.

Professor Umbridge was standing behind Fred and Luna, her bulging toad's eyes scanning the mess of owls and letters on the table in front of Harry. Behind her she saw many of the students watching them avidly.

"Why have you got all these letters, Mr Potter?" she asked slowly.

"Is that a crime now?" said Fred loudly. "Getting mail?"

"Be careful, Mr Weasley or I shall have to put you in detention," said Umbridge. "Well, Mr Potter?"

"People have written to me because I gave an interview," said Harry. "About what happened to me last June."

Umbridge paled.

"An interview?" she repeated, her voice thinner and higher than ever. "What do you mean?"

"I mean a reporter asked me questions and I answered them," said Harry. "Here-"

And he threw the copy of The Quibbler to her. She caught it and stared down at the cover. Her pale, doughy face turned an ugly, patchy violet.

Hermione grinned.

"How you dare ... how you could ..." She took a deep breath. "I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Fifty points from Gryffindor and another week's worth of detentions."*

Seeing Umbridge so furious was truly incredible, and by banning the Quibbler she'd ensured that everyone in Hogwarts had read it. Stupid woman. Hermione could not stop smiling. The student mood really was changing now, more and more people believed Harry, she could feel it and oh God it felt good.

*The teachers were of course forbidden from mentioning the interview, but they found ways to express their feelings about it all the same. Professor Sprout awarded Gryffindor twenty points when Harry passed her a watering can; a beaming Professor Flitwick pressed a box of squeaking sugar mice on him at the end of Charms, said, "Shh!" and hurried away, and Harry told her that Professor Trelawney had broken into hysterical sobs during Divination and announced to the startled class, and a very disapproving Umbridge, that Harry was not going to suffer an early death after all, but would live to a ripe old age, become Minister for Magic and have twelve children.*

She felt like she as floating through the corridors rather than walking, a stupid grin plastered on her face, this was it now, it was going to get better, people would know the truth. It certainly looked like a 16 year old school girl could make quite a difference after all. She saw Professor Snape walking down the corridor towards her, and she couldn't help it, they were quite alone; she beamed at him as they got closer. But then he sent her a look of such anger and loathing she faltered and stopped walking to stare at him in confusion. She hadn't received a look like that for months…

Oh.

Oh.

Shit.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

"I…"

It felt like someone had thrown a bucket of freezing water over her, she felt herself go pale and cold and sweaty and she tripped on her feet and stumbled forwards…

Snape's arms came up grabbed her, pulling her quickly into an empty classroom and warding the door.

"Oh God." She croaked, feeling blindly for a chair to sink into. "You'll be in so much trouble for this." Her fingers starting trembling as she pushed her hair away from her face. "Oh shit. Shit you'll be in so much trouble."

She shakily glanced up at his face. He looked pale and tense but the anger had evaporated. He was staring at her intently.

She put her head in her hands and rested her elbows on the table, feeling tears stinging in her eyes, how could she have been so stupid? How hadn't she realised?

"He'll blame you. _You're_ at Hogwarts so _you_ should have stopped it. He doesn't want anyone to know he's back yet. Oh my God. How bad will it be? I'm so so so sorry." She whispered.

"Miss Granger."

She looked up at him helplessly.

"It was the right thing to do." He said quietly, staring at his shoes, his hair curtaining his expression.

Her brain couldn't quite keep up.

"But… You'll get hurt-"

"This is war. Sacrifices must be made." He snapped, still looking downwards.

She stood up and walked towards him. She stopped when she was close enough to see the light reflected off his greasy roots.

"How bad will it be?"

He finally looked up at her and behind his impassive, sneering mask she could see his fear. She could feel it.

"I'll live."

"I'm so, so sorry." She touched his arm but he jerked it away from her. Oh this was bad. "Is there anything I can do? Professor Dumbledore -"

"Is aware of the situation."

"I'm sorry." She whispered, breaking eye contact and looking desolately at her own shoes.

"Stop apologising." He snapped. "It is done and the repercussions will be dealt with. In future try to remember that the consequences of our actions can be far reaching, Miss Granger." His tone was neutral and it made her feel worse somehow. Oh, he'd been angry, but now he wasn't, he was being decent. She didn't deserve his decency, not when she been so careless and reckless and had not even considered how a public article like that might affect the Order's spy.

"And don't you dare wait for me." He snapped again.

"Please be careful." She whispered, still looking down. She felt her Professor approach her, hesitate, then sweep out of the deserted classroom without saying a word.

* * *

That evening she borrowed Harry's map on the pretence of doing some late night reading in the Library, (Harry hadn't looked convinced, but still) and was hiding in a little alcove, studying the map rigorously. She's watch Snape leave Dumbledore's office, do a lap around the 5th floor then return to his dungeons. Since then he'd been to his office, been to the store cupboard, been in his classroom, been in his quarters, done a lap of the dungeons then returned to his office. Now he was pacing. His nervousness was infectious, even from this distance. She felt another huge stab of guilt. He stopped abruptly and started heading rapidly out of the dungeons…

Out of the entrance hall…

Out of the school gates…

A knot of heavy, panicky anxiety formed in her stomach and she stared at the Snape-free map. 'don't you dare wait for me'. Fuck that. She employed the use of her Disillusionment Charm once again and snuck out of school, waiting outside in a grassy patch she'd dubbed her 'usual spot'. Fawkes was already there. His presence loosened the knot in her stomach slightly. She stroked his fiery chest and settled down to wait.

He reappeared just before midnight. Her heart pounded. He wrenched off his mask and slammed the gates shut behind him. He was standing up ok…

She stood and was just about to reveal herself when …

"Miss Granger I had better not lay eyes on you after I specifically told you not to come." He snarled, sounding exasperated rather than angry but she still felt nervous, this was all her fault after all….

Well then he wouldn't lay eyes on her, it might be better that way. She smiled to herself a little, and slowly walked towards him, stopping much closer than she usually would. He looked stiff and a little twitchy close up.

"Miss Granger, that is not what I meant you stupid girl." He snapped.

She smiled a little more.

"Are you hurt?" She whispered, suddenly apprehensive and nervous again.

He sighed a very long and heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Hermione took this moment, where she could see him but he couldn't see her, to properly examine him. He wasn't a good looking man. He had sallow skin, greasy hair and a big nose. All the same…

She reached out a Disillusioned hand to touch his his face but stopped just short of actually touching him. His head snapped up, his eyes narrowed but she kept her hand there, millimetres away from his skin, sure that he wouldn't know what she was doing and itching, itching to touch his face, to reassure herself that he was there and he was ok and God she wanted to know what the skin on his face felt like.

"Not badly." He answered finally, looking near to where her face was.

She sighed heavily, wondering if he could feel her breath on his skin.

"He wasn't angry?"

"He was. But his attentions are mainly focused … elsewhere."

Oh. The Department of Mysteries?

Snape sidestepped around her and started making his way up towards the castle. She slipped into step besides him, her eyes fixed on his hand swinging so close to hers. She wished she could take it. 'JUST TAKE IT', screamed a voice in her ear but she shook her head. Snape would kill her and besides, he was nothing but a bastard. 'Well that's not true' said the same voice, 'he is a bastard at times but there's so much more to him than that…'

When had Fawkes left?

They'd reached the entrance hall. Snape stopped walking.

"If you take one step towards the dungeons I will take 200 points from Gryffindor." He hissed.

She snorted out a startled laugh at his tone, wishing vaguely she was more elegant.

"Yes sir." She answered and, biting her lip to the point where it hurt, she grabbed his hand, slipped her fingers around his and gave them a tight squeeze. "I'm so glad you're okay Professor Snape." She whispered, catching a glimpse of his lips slightly apart, his brows slightly raised and his cheeks flushed before he was sweeping away from her in a flurry of black robes. She sighed as she watched him go.

That impossible man.

* * *

**Sorry this chapter is up later than I'd said it would be, I ended up deleting what I'd done and starting again so I hope you like it :)**

**I'm not sure when the next one will be ready, I literally have no time this week but I'll get it done at some point never fear.**

**I'd just like to thank those who've reviewed as guests - I can only respond to reviews individually if they're from a fanfiction account - the feedback is very much appreciated you lovely people!**

***Text between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Oder of the Phoenix - J.K Rowling**


	22. Chapter 22

For some reason it was the realisation that Bode had been killed by a potted plant at St Mungo's so he couldn't reveal what he'd been made to do while under the Imperius Curse that truly opened her eyes to the fact that there was a war on. An underground war. A secret war being played out right in front of the Ministry of Magic itself, which was happily turning a blind eye. There was something about the government failing so catastrophically that made her head hurt. It was the _government._ It was supposed to be run by the brightest minds in Britain. And it was letting the whole nation down. Hermione sighed. At what point does someone become a grown up? She felt like she'd done a lot of growing up this year. Or maybe it was years ago. She'd learned that adults weren't infallible in her First Year when it had been up to her and her best friends to save the Philosophers Stone. And then again in her Second year when it had been Harry and Ron who'd found the Chamber of Secrets and killed the "horror within". And in her Third year it had been the three of them who'd discovered the truth about Sirius Black and saved him from a fate worse than death. And then Harry had been made to compete in a deadly Tournament last year. Maybe she hadn't been a child for quite some time…

Harry's dreams about Voldemort were getting worse … or better, more vivid. Which was definitely bad. Occlumency was supposed to be helping. The dream he'd had about Rockwood unnerved her; what if he saw Snape through Voldemort's eyes one night? That felt like such an invasion of privacy.

*"But you shouldn't have seen this at all, Harry."

"What?" he said, taken aback.

"You're supposed to be learning how to close your mind to this sort of thing," she said sternly.

"I know I am," said Harry. "But - "

"Well, I think we should just try and forget what you saw," she said firmly. "And you ought to put in a bit more effort on your Occlumency from now on."*

* * *

Occlumency with Potter after dinner, wonderful.

Severus Snape sighed as he let the boy into his office.

"Let's begin." He snapped, wanting this to be over as soon as possible.

The boy was still useless. He could feel Potter's hatred for him when he was inside his head, he could feel the boy's resistance to his presence but it just didn't translate into his Occlumency skills.

*"Get up, Potter."

Another lesson, another string of pointless memories he'd rather not have to watch. This time most of them had concerned humiliations the Dursley child and his gang had inflicted upon Potter in primary school. Something stood out though…

"That last memory," he said, concerned. "What was it?"

"I don't know," Potter said, getting wearily to his feet. "You mean the one where my cousin tried to make me stand in the toilet?"

"No," said Severus softly. "I mean the one with a man kneeling in the middle of a darkened room ..."

He knew that room, that man and that position all too well.

"It's ... nothing," Potter said. The boy was a terrible liar.

"How do that man and that room come to be inside your head, Potter?" he said.

"It -" said Potter, looking everywhere but at Severus, "it was - just a dream I had."

"A dream?" he repeated, feeling like someone had dropped a lead weight in his stomach.

There was a pause during which the boy stared fixedly at a large dead frog suspended in a jar of purple liquid.

"You do know why we are here, don't you, Potter?" he said, in a low, dangerous voice. "You do know why I am giving up my evenings to this tedious job?"

"Yes," the boy said stiffly.

"Remind me why we are here, Potter."

"So I can learn Occlumency."

"Correct, Potter. And dim though you may be I would have thought that after over two months of lessons you might have made some progress. How many other dreams about the Dark Lord have you had?"

"Just that one," he lied again.

Severus felt his temper rise. Did the boy not know that this was for his own good? Dreams about the Dark Lord were bad news, they were dangerous. Potter already had sufficient knowledge of the Order, its members and its location to put everything at risk if the Dark Lord got far enough into his head.

"Perhaps," he said, his dark, cold eyes narrowing slightly, "perhaps you actually enjoy having these visions and dreams, Potter. Maybe they make you feel special - important?'"

"No, they don't," Potter said, but he could see a shadow of truth in his face.

"That is just as well, Potter," he said coldly, "because you are neither special nor important, and it is not up to you to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters."

"No - that's your job, isn't it?" Potter snapped at him.

His first reaction was one of anger. Then something dawned on him, something that had been nagging at the back of his mind for a long time. The boy had said something rash out of anger, he hadn't put any thought into what he'd said, he'd just reacted with something he thought would upset or anger Severus. But Potter had said nothing about that which had transpired between himself and Miss Granger. His Professor being drunk, or having a nightmare, or being injured or shaking or throwing up would surely be better tools to use against him in that moment… But Potter hadn't said anything along those lines… Miss Granger hadn't told him… That was the logical conclusion… A feeling of curiosity mingled with satisfaction overtook the anger.

"Yes, Potter," he said, his eyes glinting. "That is my job. Now, if you are ready, we will start again."

He raised his wand: "One - two - three - Legilimens!"

A hundred Dementors were swooping towards Potter across the lake in the grounds ... they were coming closer ... Potter's expression was changing, something was wrong … Potter's face was becoming clearer and the image was growing fainter … it wasn't his doing …

The boy raised his wand.

"Protego!"

He didn't have time to react.

Severus staggered - his wand flew upwards, away from Potter - and suddenly Potter was in his mind. A hook-nosed man that should never have been a Father was shouting at a cowering woman who should never have been a Mother, - his mind was black from shock, his reflexes numb - a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner ... a greasy-haired, lonely teenager sat in a dark bedroom, pointing his wand at the ceiling, shooting down flies, being drawn further and further down a Dark path ... a beautiful girl was laughing as a scrawny boy tried to mount a bucking broomstick – his brain caught up, his defences kicked in -

"ENOUGH!"

Potter fell backwards, pushed away physically by the strength of his resistance, he hit some of the shelves covering Severus' walls and something cracked. Severus was shaking slightly, and felt cold and weak but was determined to show nothing in front of that bloody boy.

One of the jars behind Potter had broken when he fell against it.

"Reparo," he hissed, and the jar sealed itself at once, he felt a little more in control. "Well, Potter ... that was certainly an improvement ..." Panting slightly, he straightened the Pensieve in which he had again stored some of his thoughts before starting the lesson, to reassure himself that his deepest and darkest memories were still firmly out of the brats reach. "I don't remember telling you to use a Shield Charm ... but there is no doubt that it was effective ..."

That was all the praise he could give him. He felt violated and stupid. How could he have let someone as thick as Potter into his mind?

"Let's try again, shall we?" he said, focusing on keeping his voice steady. "On the count of three, then. One – two – Legilimens!"

He was hurtling along the corridor towards the Department of Mysteries, past the blank stone walls, past the torches - the plain black door was growing ever larger; he was moving so fast he was going to collide with it, he was feet from it and again he could see that chink of faint blue light – Potter should not be seeing this, what was happening? - The door had flown open! He was through it, inside a black-walled, black-floored circular room lit with blue-flamed candles, and there were more doors all around him, which door ought he to take – This had to stop -

"POTTER!"

The boy had fallen to the floor when he broke the connection, it had been strong, for a terrible moment he'd thought he might not be able to stop it… Oh this was very, very bad. The Dark Lord must have some sort of plan he wasn't sharing with his spy. Well he wasn't in favour, not now the Death Eaters from Azkaban were back … but these visions were incredibly dangerous, and the idiot wasn't trying to stop them.

"Explain yourself!" He demanded, feeling the flighty wings of panic inside his stomach, along with a hot and fiery fury that the damn boy could be so reckless.

"I ... dunno what happened," Potter said, standing up, looking slightly ill but almost excited. "I've never seen that before. I mean, I told you, I've dreamed about the door ... but it's never opened before."

"You are not working hard enough!"

How could the boy not realise how dangerous this was? For all of them?

"You are lazy and sloppy, Potter, it is small wonder that the Dark Lord -"

"Can you tell me something, sir?' He said insolently. "Why do you call Voldemort the Dark Lord? I've only ever heard Death Eaters call him that."

He didn't know why it made him so furious to hear the boy spit 'Death Eater' at him like that when it was nothing but the truth, wherever his loyalties lay. He opened his mouth in a snarl - and a woman screamed from somewhere outside the room.

Severus' head jerked upwards; he gazed at the ceiling.

"What the - ?" he muttered.*

* * *

So Umbridge had finally sacked someone. They all knew it had been coming and it was no surprise to anyone it had been Trelawney, least of all Severus. That woman was getting far too full of herself though, he'd noticed a significant increase in the number of students with bleeding hands. And he could do nothing. Nothing except keep the store cupboard well stocked with Murtlap tentacles and hope Granger would spread the word. A trickle of unease ran down his spine.

He sank into his office chair and ran his hands up his face and through his hair. He needed to speak to the Headmaster. Potter's dreams, visions, whatever, were getting worse and Occlumency clearly wasn't working. He knew Potter wasn't trying hard enough but all the same, it felt like something else was wrong, something was stopping him from being able to block what he was seeing. The fact that he'd gone further down the corridor in the Department of Mysteries during an Occlumency lesson was very worrying indeed. The Dark Lord was up to something, he just didn't know what and he couldn't enquire when he wasn't supposed to know anything; he could hardly confess he'd been teaching that brat Occlumency, working against the very thing the Dark Lord was trying to achieve, whatever that may be. He sighed. So many lies it was getting harder to keep up.

And then there was Granger. He groaned. What on Earth was he supposed to do with her? She was getting worse and he was letting her. She was researching Healing. He was almost sure he knew why; when he'd told her there was nothing she nor Madam Pomfrey could do for him after his first Summons, she'd had that look in her eye, a silver glint amongst the amber she got whenever there was an answer she needed to find. Well she was wasting her time. Why should it concern him? She always wanted to know how he was, the thought made him feel hot and uncomfortable, but there was also a tiny part of him that was pleased and he hated it, but then how many other people wanted that same information? 'Fine. Don't tell me. Leave me here to worry.' She'd said when he'd refused her the information and the thought of her worrying over him had sent a jolt of pleasure through him, followed immediately by anger and humiliation. She was of no consequence to him. She couldn't be.

But then he'd watched Dumbledore tell the girl about the attack on Mr Weasley, he'd expected tears at the very least but she'd just stood there, pale and shaken but calm and determined just the same. She chose Potter over her parents. He's seen it in her face, he'd seen her defiance and it was just the sort of stupid, grand gesture that so defined her house. All the same he'd been impressed. She certainly wasn't a child anymore, and maybe she hadn't been for a long time. Miss Granger hadn't looked at him once the entire time she was in the office. He'd thought she would; she'd looked to him for reassurance on more than one occasion and he couldn't help but feel vaguely snubbed. So after he'd finished talking with Dumbledore, rowing with Dumbledore more like, he'd known from the offset that Potter would be resistant to learning anything from him, and Occlumency wasn't exactly easy, he'd gone to find her. Only to make sure she was stable and wasn't about to go blabbing about what had happened to the whole school of course. And he'd found her in the Owlery and again she'd avoided his eye and run off. It had made him feel angry and slighted. He chose not to analyse why. Then he'd later located her in the school grounds, all alone surrounded by freezing winds and snow. She'd made an oddly poetic figure from a distance, the Gryffindor that had been left behind. But then he'd been furious with her, it was so melodramatic and ridiculous for her to isolate herself like that in such volatile weather conditions; so bloody attention-seeking. And then when he'd told her so the little harridan had actually growled at him, grabbed him and manhandled him into her Warming Charms. That had been a little embarrassing. But she'd taken hold of his branded arm again, seemingly without even realising, and he'd found it incredibly disconcerting; he'd tried not to look or think about that thing as much as possible since Fudge had recoiled from it so whole-heartedly last year. It had been the reaction he'd been expecting of course, but it wasn't exactly pleasant to have something that was burnt onto your arm, something setting you apart from everyone else, forever, that made people react like that to him. Everyone except Granger.

He'd sat down next to her. The truth was that he was lonely and scared and she cared about him. It was rather hard to believe but all the same… She wasn't particularly bad company; she could be amusing at times, tolerable. It was rare for him to feel amused, particularly these days and the warm feeling it brought him was something he desperately needed, however much he tried to deny it. He'd made her laugh. Twice. The warm little sphere in his chest had spread outwards even as he'd tried to fight it. Then she'd smiled at him again. That warm, open, honest smile that made something ache under his ribs. And then they'd talked and she'd been worried about him getting hurt and it had felt so good to just talk to someone, someone who worried about him and smiled at him and laughed. Her laugh was loud and strong and slightly musical without being at all girlish. It wasn't nearly as insufferable as she was. As she could be. Sometimes. He'd let a whole afternoon slip by sitting with Granger. That was reckless and stupid and the girl was a bloody menace. A bloody menace with a nice laugh.

Of course he'd managed to almost get into a fight with Black over the holidays. He should have been above it, and he was most of the time, but there was just something about Black's arrogant face that took him right back to the days he was nothing but an resentful, lonely, bullied teenager. He was more than that now. He'd survived spending copious amounts of time with the Darkest wizard of all time. He'd survived lying to his face. Multiple times. But then Black had stood up and he was taller, and a shiver of fear had run straight through him, which had only made him more furious and he'd been determined to hex him into oblivion, whether Potter was in between or not, when all the Weasleys and Granger had burst in and the red and the pounding in his ears had slowly receded. Who'd have thought he'd ever see the day when a Potter was trying to stop Black…

And then he'd practically run out of the house. He'd stood on the top step with his head on the door wondering what they were all saying about him and trying to convince himself he didn't care anyway when the door had opened and he'd almost fallen. Granger. Again. She'd come to him rather than staying inside with everyone else. She'd chosen him…. Which was bad of course. Very bad. But the thought made him flush all the same. The relief he'd seen on her face…

'I _really_ don't like Sirius.'

The memory made him chuckle. _Again. _Damn it what was that girl doing to him?

His slip back then had been worrying, but still he hadn't sent the girl running, he'd glared at her, but his glare didn't seem to have much of an effect on her anymore, especially judging by what she'd done after. She'd taken his hand, and squeezed it. Remembering it made him feel completely out of sorts, befuddled and bewildered. He honestly couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched him so innocently.

Granger had waited for him after a Summons three times now. The first time he'd returned to the Dark Lord, after the breakout from Azkaban and after that bloody article in the Quibbler. He'd been grateful she'd been there after the return of the imprisoned Death Eaters and cursed himself for it. He hadn't been hurt, quite the opposite really, he'd been part of a huge celebration. But then a celebration among some of the most evil and cruel wizards of the age was hardly going to be enjoyable. And the newly released Death Eaters, the _truly loyal_ ones could do no wrong. So they were allowed to question _his_ loyalties. He'd been something of a spectacle that night. They'd taken it in turns to question him, including the Dark Lord, all part of the fun of course, he'd felt like he was being circled by sharks. He'd had his Occlumency shields up so rigidly that night and had to monitor everything he did with such vigilance that when he'd finally returned, pulled down his defences and tried to make his exhausted body and mind relax somewhat, he'd just collapsed. It had been beyond exhaustion. And then she'd appeared. At first he'd half wondered if she was even real or if he was just so far gone he was conjuring her. But she'd been very real and he'd been desperately and pathetically pleased she was there. He'd shivered, whether it had been from cold or tiredness or just the knowledge of who he'd spent the night with he didn't know even now, but the girl had cast her Warming Charms around them and given him her cloak. She'd just taken it off her own shoulders and put it over him. That gesture haunted him. It was just so … kind … people weren't that kind to him. They just weren't. He didn't deserve it anyway. 'I care about you.' She'd said, and then blushed. Blushed. He'd made Hermione Granger blush.

When he'd thrown up, far from being disgusted, she'd pulled him up and started marching him towards the castle. She really was insufferable. And she'd taken his shoes off… He was letting her get too far in, she was getting too familiar with him… But she cared about him. She did. He didn't revile or disgust her. She'd touched his feet. And she could be so damn bossy.

The thought made his lips twitch … no … he didn't like her … not at all…

He'd tried to send her away for good but it had been a half hearted attempt and she hadn't paid all that much attention. She was too brave for her own good. Or too stupid.

And then she'd done that bloody fucking interview, how she'd managed to set that up he had no idea, and all he'd thought about her caring for him had come smashing down around him. He'd felt like an idiot for ever believing it. The girl was bright, even if he'd never admit it, and if she was so concerned for him she would have surely realised that the Dark Lord wouldn't be best pleased about Potter going public? And_ that_ surely would have led her to the conclusion that _he_ would be held accountable? So he'd decided that either she _had_ realised but just didn't care, or she hadn't realised at all, in which case she couldn't possibly care much about him. The thought made him feel hollow. It hadn't helped that she'd been walking around beaming like an idiot either while he'd been left fearful of his punishment and furious with her, and furious with himself for caring what she thought of him. Then she'd had the tenacity to grin right at him. But he'd watched the realisation dawn on her face, he'd seen her go pale and clammy, seen the horror in her eyes, the guilt, the worry… It had been an honest mistake. She'd apologised about 100 times and meant it and fool that he was he'd forgiven her. Because he was relieved it was just an honest mistake. He hadn't wanted to believe that none of it had been real… And she'd waited for him again. To make sure he was okay after what she'd done.

The thought made him feel warm inside and he scowled. Bloody girl.

She'd stayed Disillusioned that night. It had made him uncomfortable but not excessively so … he couldn't allow himself to trust her though, not that he did or wanted to anyway. Nope. Not one bit. She'd sighed in relief when he'd said he wasn't badly hurt and he'd felt her breath, warm on his face. She must have been very close to him… Why? And when they'd gotten back inside the castle she'd held his hand, properly this time, slipped her fingers through his and squeezed. And he'd let her.

He groaned again.

The feel of her delicate little hand in his had sent a jolt of … something … straight to his chest, he'd felt his heart rate increase, his cheeks flush, and then he'd just run from her. Again.

Bloody fucking hell.

* * *

The day Umbridge found out about the D.A was one of the worst days she'd ever had.

*"Harry, come on!" she'd shrieked from the centre of the knot of people fighting to get out.*

He was right behind her so she ran, blinded by panic, adrenaline coursing through her, praying that everyone would get away…

But then Harry was gone and she was terrified and this was all her fault.

But Dumbledore saved Harry and now he was gone. She felt so filled with guilt it was like a physical weight she was carrying. Dumbledore was gone.

*BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-eight.

Signed: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic*

She could only hope that Dumbledore would be back soon, and the rumours about the Head's office sealing itself against her were true. Toad. And although she disagreed with the general idea of causing 'mayhem', she couldn't help but pray the Weasley twins gave Umbridge _hell._

* * *

**So here's chapter 22! (22's my lucky number)**

**I thought I was working all day today - well, technically yesterday - but I got the date wrong and it's tomorrow - or technically later today where I am, it's just gone midnight. Anyway I felt like writing all day since I didn't have work so here we are! **

**Firstly I know there's a huge chunk straight from the book and I apologise to those who don't like it when I do that, but it is from Severus' perspective and I just couldn't help myself- it was so much fun to write. Secondly I'm sorry there's no Snermione scenes in this - by the time I was done writing from Severus' POV it was pretty long and so I thought I'd just do a little from Hermione's POV after to lead us into the next chapter - which should hopefully be up by the Saturday but I can't promise. A significant Snermione scene in that one though I can promise! **

**I know this chapter feels a little patchy so I may do some tweaking at some point, but I hope you like it all the same.**

**Thanks for reading.**

***Text between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - J.K Rowling. I've done some serious fiddling with certain parts though so the asterisks give more of a guideline. **

**:)**


	23. Chapter 23

The fireworks were wonderful. They really were, and it wasn't just that, the Weasleys twins seemed to have led the school into a much more open rebellion.

*Professor Umbridge spent her first afternoon as Headmistress running all over the school answering the summonses of the other teachers, none of whom seemed able to rid their rooms of the fireworks without her. When the final bell rang and they were heading back to Gryffindor Tower with their bags, Hermione saw, with immense satisfaction, a dishevelled and soot-blackened Umbridge tottering sweaty-faced from Professor Flitwick's classroom.

"Thank you so much, Professor!" said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky little voice. "I could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but I wasn't sure whether or not I had the authority."

Beaming, he closed his classroom door in her snarling face.*

And Hermione spent the afternoon Stunning or Vanishing the fireworks whenever she had the opportunity just to add to the mayhem, because 10 fireworks were naturally, much better than one. She'd been doing just that on her way to the toilet when she'd spotted Snape and Sprout watching her. Neither of them said a word.

Wonderful.

* * *

*"But why haven't you got Occlumency lessons anymore?" said Hermione, frowning.

"I've told you," Harry muttered. "Snape reckons I can carry on by myself now I've got the basics."

"So you've stopped having funny dreams?" she said sceptically.

"Pretty much," said Harry, not looking at her.

He was a bad liar.

"Well, I don't think Snape should stop until you're absolutely sure you can control them!" she said, confused. "Harry, I think you should go back to him and ask – "

"No," said Harry forcefully. "Just drop it, Hermione, OK?"*

She frowned again. Something really wasn't right here. Although it was normal for Harry to come back from Occlumency lessons looking pale and shaky, this time was different somehow. He was avoiding their eyes and he looked … traumatised? Ashamed? What on earth had happened?

She thought of Snape. Was he ok? An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. Why would Snape suddenly end the lessons when Dumbledore was so insistent of their importance?

She mumbled something about the Library and slipped out of the Gryffindor common room. It was still just about before curfew but she was grateful for the lack of interruptions on her journey down to the dungeons. She didn't even really know why she was going there, Snape was probably fine and would not appreciate her presence… All the same… It wasn't going to do any harm just to check…

She reached his office door and her heart seemed to be pounding in her throat. As she lifted her arm to knock, she noticed the door was ajar. Her sense of unease increased.

"Professor Snape?" She called quietly as she gently pushed the heavy wooden door open.

She gasped.

The sight that met her eyes was such a shock that it seemed to take her brain several minutes to process what she was seeing…

Snape's office was in shambles; broken class littered the floors from the smashed jars; they looked as if they'd been hurled into the walls judging by the smelly liquids that were running down some of them and dripping into different coloured puddles on the floor. Dead bits of plants and animals were interspersed on the flagstones and some were stuck to the wall where their jars had perished around them. Snape's desk had been overturned; there was paper everywhere, some disintegrating in the puddles and it looked like the wooden chairs had met the same end as the jars.

The man himself was lying motionless in the centre of the room with his back to her. She shut the door behind her, ran to him and dropped to her knees near his head. His arms and legs were flailed around him, as if he'd fallen and not bothered to get up or make himself more comfortable and his greasy hair covered his face, hiding his expression.

"Professor Snape!"

"What … did Potter … tell you?" He asked desperately, not bothering to move or even look at her, his voice hoarse and scratchy and his breathing ragged.

"What? Umm, he just said that he'd mastered the basics so you'd said it was ok for him to continue on his own."

Snape snorted and something gurgled.

"Are you hurt? Who did this? What happened?"

"I'm unhurt … and I did this." He answered.

Her brain hurt. Snape had done this to his own office? Why? Did this have something to do with Harry?

She opened her mouth to ask her questions but instead her hand began to push Snape's hair off his face. Her heart stuttered. What was she doing? But she didn't stop herself. Slowly she combed Snape's hair behind his ear, not caring for one second that it was greasy. Snape was staring straight ahead with cold, dead eyes, but there was pain around their edges, she could see it. Her heart ached. For the final few stands she placed her fingers lightly on his temple and dragged them through his hair, behind his ear and down to the base of his neck. Snape's eyes fluttered closed. Emboldened, she repeated the gesture. His eyes stayed closed. She dragged her fingers across his temple and down again, this time with more force. His limp body shifted slightly, as if he was getting more comfortable. She smiled down at his neck.

His nose was bleeding. Sighing, she dug for some tissue in her pocket and finding a significant wad, she took a few pieces and placed them under his nose. Snape's eyes flew open and he glared at her reprovingly, shifting away from her hand.

She rolled her eyes at him and reapplied the tissue.

"No." He snapped, shifting away from her again.

"There's no point bleeding all over yourself." She snapped back, and in a moment of reckless abandon, she shifted closer to him, lifted his head onto her lap and shoved the tissue back under his hooked nose.

His eyes were wide and fearful when he looked up at her.

In a rare moment of absolute clarity, she pushed away her own fear and confusion and all the questions she had about what had happened and inhaled a deep, calming breath. She gave him a gentle smile, knowing that words would do little to reassure such a man, and with her free hand she began raking her fingers through his hair again, slowly but with greater pressure, and his eyes began to flicker shut once more. Her chest ached. She'd need to explore the depth of feeling she had for her Professor at some point, but not right now.

They passed a substantial amount of time in this way, she'd started stroking the skin under his ear with the back of her fingers as well at some point, still without protestation, until she noticed his nose had stopped bleeding and gently removed the tissue, fetching a clean one and wiping away the dried blood. He looked back up at her, his eyes startled rather than fearful, and for a moment when they stared at one another, his eyes seemed to soften, she seemed to drift into their black depths and for a second, she thought she felt the depth of his pain. It felt like neglect and abuse and isolation, it was betrayal and fear and humiliation, it was loneliness and insecurity and rejection and a hot, burning anger...

Her eyes stung. Snape was staring at the floor. She blinked. What had just happened? It hadn't been Legilimency exactly, but….

Snape sighed heavily, his breathing was uneven.

She started stroking his hair again, wishing for calm. She'd felt a tiny fraction of what he was feeling, she was sure of it, and it had been enough to make her want to crawl into a hole and never get out. She felt completely out of her depth. She discarded the tissue and went to take his hand, it was slightly beyond her reach, she went to stretch but his hand came up to hers, stopping short of actually touching. He was still staring resolutely at the floor. She took his hand and held it tightly, wishing she could pour everything she was feeling into his head through their joined hands so he would know he was cared about, and maybe she could ease a tiny, tiny bit of his pain. A tear rolled down her cheek. That was almost the worse part; she didn't really understand what had happened or why she was crying and she knew she couldn't ask. He'd throw her out. And right now she was exactly where she needed to be. She squeezed his hand.

Something had changed. It was something obvious but she couldn't quite place it… She frowned, trying to concentrate on what it was…

Oh.

Her hand.

She was holding Snape's hand, and it wasn't limp. He was holding her hand back. She felt her cheeks redden. Professor Snape was holding her hand. She smiled to herself, feeling a thrill of pleasure run over her. She was holding his hand, and he was holding hers back. And his head was in her lap. And she was stroking his hair.

Life could be very weird sometimes.

* * *

A while later she began to notice that her knees hurt and her feet were starting to go numb. A Cushioning Charm held it off for a while but then it returned with a vengeance. She glanced down at her Professor and her heart stopped. He was asleep. She felt a huge rush of affection for him, followed by a trickle of frustration down her spine. What was she supposed to do now? Her knees really hurt but she didn't want to wake him … or would it be better to wake him anyway? He needed a proper night's sleep surely…

She let out a heavy sigh and ran her fingers through his hair one last time. It was very soft. He looked so peaceful asleep, his face and body relaxed. She Transfigured one of the tissues into a blanket and levitated it over his sleeping form. Maybe she'd wait until she really couldn't stand staying in that position anymore, and then she'd wake him… It was a daunting prospect. She looked down at her sleeping Professor. It felt like the world had gone a bit mad tonight. Something had happened between Harry and Professor Snape that had resulted in the discontinuation of Occlumency lessons, had made Harry look traumatised and had made Snape have some sort of fit, destroying his office and making him … well…

While she'd been lost in thought a change had overtaken Snape; his body was tense and his eyes were moving rapidly beneath his closed lids.

"No." He whispered franticly.

Her heart constricted.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

He sat bolt upright panting.

"Professor?"

He turned like lightning and she was faced with his wand at her throat. She almost smiled at the déjà vu. He blinked and looked at her properly with a mixture of surprise and confusion. As he lowered his wand she noticed his hand was shaking.

They were kneeling facing each other. Snape was still panting. She was worried that if she said anything at all he'd throw her out. Silently, she conjured him a glass of water and handed it to him with a sheepish expression. He let out an amused huff of air and took it from her. She remembered her aching knees and shifted to sit cross legged before him.

"Now please don't yell or throw me out," she said imploringly, her hands palm up before him, "but are you ok?"

He gave her a long and calculating stare that left her breathless before running his hands through his hair roughly and slumping forwards, resting his elbow on his knees and his head on his hand.

"You shouldn't be here." He said finally, his voice sounding oddly resigned.

She said nothing.

"Why did you come?"

"Harry came back from your lesson all … weird. And he said you'd cancelled them … I just … I knew something was wrong." She said truthfully.

"So you came to check on me?" Snape said slowly.

"Yes."

"I do not need a babysitter." He snarled, lifting his head and glaring at her.

But there was something defenceless in the way he was sitting.

"I know sir, but maybe … well," she inhaled and said in a rush "everyone needs a friend."

He glared at her frowning.

"Is that what you think we are, you idiot girl? _Friends?" _He spat out the word like an insult.

"I'm the brightest witch of my age. Of course I don't think that." She snapped.

Snape's lips twitched, he looked caught somewhere between anger and amusement.

"I think everyone _needs _a friend, or at least someone who really cares about them." She said softly, reining in her temper.

He looked away.

His hands were still trembling in his lap.

She shifted and sat herself by his side, pulling the blanket over them and reaching over to take one of his hands in hers. He resisted for one stubborn moment but she gave his hand a tug and he gave in, wrapping his fingers around hers and holding on rather tighter than she'd expected.

"I care about you." She whispered, to no response.

It was probably the middle of the night by now.

As his hand slowly relaxed around hers, she looked up at his face and was surprised to see him looking down at her. She offered him a timid smile which was not returned, but his face seemed to soften slightly as she looked at it.

"We should probably tidy up at some point you know." She said hurriedly, looking away as she felt herself go a brilliant shade of red.

"Yes." He agreed, pulling his hand from hers and standing up stiffly.

She immediately wished she hadn't said anything.

And so together they Reparoed what could be saved and Vanished what couldn't, slowly but surely making the room look normal again. When they were done Hermione looked round the office, blinking slightly with a furrowed brow; it was like it had never happened.

"I shall escort you back to Gryffindor Tower, Miss Granger." Said Snape formally, looking almost back to normal as well.

Her throat hurt.

"No need sir." She said, making a conscious effort to keep her voice light.

And she Disillusioned herself before him.

A slight smirk curled Snape's lip.

She grinned.

Her Charm was almost perfect these days.

"Take care of yourself Professor." She said quietly, the smile fading from her face.

He nodded stiffly and she let herself out, almost running back to her dormitory. She threw herself into bed and felt a few frustrated tears fall from her eyes. She still didn't even know what had happened to make Snape behave like that. The memory of touching his hair and holding his hand made the tears flow anew. So maybe she had a bit of a crush on her Professor. That was no big deal. Her chest constricted. Okay, so it felt like a big deal. But there was no need to panic. This sort of thing happened all the time. Everything was fine. Totally, totally fine.

She screamed into her pillow.

* * *

It was the Easter holidays. She'd seen her Potions Professor a few times in passing since Harry's last Occlumency lesson and it had been fine; no deadly glares, no snide comments, no horrible smirking. Her final realisation that she had a crush on him shouldn't have come as a surprise; really it had been going on for a long time, but all the same she felt like she was blushing every time she laid eyes on him. The feel of his hair seemed to have left an impression on her fingers that simultaneously made her feel wonderful and terribly uncomfortable. But at least she had a couple of weeks to process everything that had happened before classes resumed again.

* * *

And now Harry was planning on breaking into Umbridge's office to talk to an escaped convict.

There were no words.

She spent the whole day trying to persuade her friend to change his mind but it seemed pretty set. By their Potions class neither of the boys were speaking to her but that wasn't important. She kept a continual flow of warnings in the hope that at least one would filter through Harry's skull and into his brain but it wasn't looking good. 5 o'clock loomed ever closer.

But Snape was ignoring Harry. Completely ignoring him.

It was curious.

And then *Malfoy gave a gleeful yell of laughter. Harry's potion sample lay in pieces on the floor and Snape was surveying him with a look of gloating pleasure.

"Whoops," he said softly. "Another zero, then, Potter."

Harry strode back to his cauldron.

Oh shit.

"I'm sorry" she said, with her hands over her mouth. "I'm really sorry, Harry. I thought you'd finished, so I cleared up!"

He didn't speak. When the bell rang, he hurried out of the dungeon without a backwards glance.* That hurt, but she couldn't blame him. Snape had deliberately smashed his potion sample, she'd seen him do it, and Harry had actually done well today. She shot her Professor an angry glare, wondering if there was a particular reason he'd been so vicious, and hurried out after Harry.

* * *

*"Harry, don't do it, please don't do it!" She said in anguished tones as the last bell rang at the end of the class.* But her friend had that look in his eye and she knew she'd failed; he was going to break into the toad's classroom to speak to Sirius. What on earth was so important?!

He managed to get away with it. Which was good of course but she couldn't help but feel like he deserved some sort of punishment for being such an idiot. And the Weasley twins exit had certainly been a good diversion; that swamp really was excellent magic. *Umbridge and Filch had been observed trying different means of removing it but without success. Eventually, the area was roped off and Filch was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms. McGonagall or Flitwick could have removed the swamp in an instant but, just as in the case of Fred and George's Wildfire Whiz-bangs, they seemed to prefer to watch Umbridge struggle.

A great number of students were now vying for the newly vacant positions of Troublemakers-in-Chief. In spite of the new door, somebody managed to slip a hairy-snouted Niffler into Umbridge's office, which promptly tore the place apart in its search for shiny objects, leapt on Umbridge when she entered and tried to gnaw the rings off her stubby fingers.

Filch prowled the corridors with a horsewhip ready in his hands, desperate to catch miscreants, but the problem was that there were now so many of them he never knew which way to turn. The Inquisitorial Squad was attempting to help him, but odd things kept happening to its members. Warrington of the Slytherin Quidditch team reported to the hospital wing with a horrible skin complaint that made him look as though he had been coated in cornflakes; Pansy Parkinson, to Hermione's delight, missed all her lessons the following day as she had sprouted antlers.

Meanwhile, it became clear just how many Skiving Snackboxes Fred and George had managed to sell before leaving Hogwarts. Umbridge only had to enter her classroom for the students assembled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers or else spout blood from both nostrils. Shrieking with rage and frustration, she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering from 'Umbridge - 'itis'.*

Open rebellion.

Marvellous.

* * *

On the other hand Harry's flimsy reasons for being so desperate to talk to Sirius were really starting to bug her; he obviously wasn't telling them the truth. And then there was his obvious hesitancy to go and ask Snape to resume Occlumency lessons; what in God's name had happened between the two of them? She daren't ask Snape, especially since she'd only just got over blushing whenever she saw him, and if she brought it up with Harry he would just deny anything had happened.

*"You can't tell me you've stopped having funny dreams," she said, on another attack about resuming the lessons. "because Ron told me you were muttering in your sleep again last night."

Harry threw Ron a furious look.

"You were only muttering a bit," he mumbled apologetically. "Something about 'just a bit further'."

"I dreamed I was watching you lot play Quidditch," Harry said. "I was trying to get you to stretch out a bit further to grab the Quaffle."*

She frowned, she was almost sure he was lying but once Harry was on the defensive it was a lot harder to argue with him. But she wouldn't give up.

* * *

Hagrid had a giant hidden in the forest. A _giant. _

*"You have to keep him tied up?" she said faintly.

"Well ... yeah ..." said Hagrid, looking anxious. "See - it's like I say - he doesn' really know 'is own strength."

"So, what is it you want Harry and Ron and me to do?" She asked apprehensively.

"Look after him," said Hagrid croakily. "After I'm gone."

Harry and Hermione exchanged miserable looks.

"What - what does that involve, exactly?" She enquired.

"Not food or anythin'!" said Hagrid eagerly. "He can get his own food, no problem. Birds an' deer an' stuff ... no, it's company he needs. It I jus' knew someone was carryin on tryin ter help him a bit ... teachin' him, yeh know."*

And they promised they would, because they were good friends. 'IDIOTS' yelled a voice in her ear but she shook her head. They'd promised and that was that.

She got an early night and fell asleep almost immediately.

Ron was being carried by singing Gryffindors holding the Quidditch cup. She and Harry went to join him but the Centaurs wouldn't let them back in the castle, they raised their crossbows and they had to run, run past Sturgis Podmore who was being strangled by a Dementor, and into the forest. They thought they were safe when a 16ft Umbridge came towering over them, she picked up Harry with her stubby fingers and started carving words into him with a scalpel while Hermione screamed for help from the ground, being covered in Harry's blood. Snape was rushing towards them both, he lifted his wand to help Harry when Voldemort appeared from Umbridge's earring and saw that Snape had betrayed him… He raised his wand… AVADA KEDARVRA!

She woke with a start, sweating and shaking and she just ran. She ran straight out of the dormitories, through the common room, out of the portrait hole, down the corridor and then randomly through the school, blinded by tears, her brain still on her pillow. She turned a corner and smacked straight into something dark and hard, something grabbed hold of her and then she was just screaming and sobbing and the sound was echoing around her and she just couldn't stop…

"MISS GRANGER!"

Snape's voice.

Snape was here.

Snape was alive.

Oh thank God.

She stopped screaming and almost went limp with relief, his arms on hers…

Then…

Oh shit.

Snape was here.

Oh _shit._

She was in nothing but an oversized t-shirt.

She'd been screaming and crying.

Hermione quickly turned away from him, but his hands were still on her bare arms.

"Miss Granger what has happened? Are you hurt?"

She mutely shook her head, still facing away from him and wishing she had a tissue or could at least stop the tears still falling from her eyes.

"Why are there twigs in your hair? Where have you been?" He demanded, but behind his brusque voice she hear … concern?

Wait, twigs? She felt herself go hot.

"Just in … in, m-my bed sir." She stammered, struggling to draw in a breath.

"Ah," he said quietly. "a nightmare?"

She nodded.

"Come."

He released her and walked down the corridor, she followed, trying to wipe her face on the back of her hand but she was still, still crying. Why couldn't she stop?

Snape let her in to an empty classroom, shutting the door behind them and conjuring a large fire in the middle.

"Here."

He handed her some trousers he must have Transfigured and turned away. She slipped them on gratefully, trying to fight the hotness in her cheeks.

"Binky, I would like two hot chocolate, a plate of biscuits and some tissues." He said quickly to a girl house elf with exceptionally pointy ears.

"Sit down, Miss Granger." He said in an unusually gentle voice.

She sat but turned her face away from him, the occasional tear still leaking from her eyes.

"I'm s-so sorry Professor Snape," she began, wishing it had been anyone else who had found her in such a state, "I'm ju-just being silly."

She hiccoughed.

"As I'm sure you are aware Miss Granger, we all have nightmares."

She quickly glanced at him and he was giving her a look heavy with meaning. She coloured. Yes, even the Potions Master had bad dreams, she knew that. She offered him a weak smile.

At that moment Binky reappeared with a large tray.

"Excellent." Said Snape, and the elf blushed, bowed and left with a crack.

Snape had never said 'excellent' to her.

He pulled a table in front of her and placed the tray on it, sitting himself next to her and handing her the tissues. She wiped her face and blew her nose, feeling juvenile and foolish.

He passed her a hot chocolate and took one for himself, placing a couple of white marshmallows on top.

"I wouldn't have p-pictured you as the hot chocolate type sir." She said timidly, looking up at him properly for the first time. He was still in his teaching robes. Evidently Professor Snape hadn't even attempted to sleep yet.

He sent her an amused look that made her stomach lurch.

"What did you dream?" He asked, fixing her with a piercing, soul revealing look that made her heart stutter.

"It was nothing, lots of things, it was stupid. It just -"

"Felt real." He finished for her and she nodded, staring into her hot chocolate.

They finished their drinks in silence.

"He won't find out about you, will he?" She asked him desperately, dream-Snape's death still fresh in her mind.

"The Dark Lord?" He asked slowly and she nodded. "Find out about my loyalties?"

She nodded again. Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It it unlikely." He answered finally, not putting her mind at ease in the slightest.

"How unlikely?" She demanded.

Snape's eyebrows rose.

"I suppose I would say very unlikely; I've lasted this long." He said, his voice full of warning. "But of course," he continued. "it is a moot point if I _am_ loyal to him."

She gasped.

"Why would you say that?!" She cried.

"Miss Granger you ran into me in the middle of the night with nothing but a t-shirt on, and only screamed until you realised who I was. I am a known Death Eater you stupid girl, you should have carried on screaming and RUN FOR THE HILLS." His voice had risen steadily until he was bellowing at her.

He was angry. He was trying to scare her off. Why?

"I TRUST YOU." She was surprised to hear herself yell. "I TRUST YOU, YOU GREAT BIG IDIOT, OF COUSRE I STOPPED SCREAMING WHEN I KNEW IT WAS YOU, I'D JUST WATCHED YOU DIE."

Oh.

Yelling at Snape.

Whoops.

"Sir you could have killed, or kidnapped me, or whatever a thousand times already if you'd wanted to, and I don't see what difference my attire makes to that. I trust you." She continued more calmly.

Bracing herself she looked up at his face. He looked a little shocked but he was smirking.

"If you ever call me a 'great big idiot' again I will put you in detention Miss Granger."

She paled.

He chuckled.

Oh how she loved his chuckle, it was low and sinister and beautiful. Something inside her tightened.

"I'll walk you back to Gryffindor tower."

Hermione was glad he wasn't angry anymore but his quick change in demeanour was confusing. Why had he suddenly become so angry when he'd been … nice? And why wasn't he angry now? There were always more questions than answers with that man.

They reached the portrait hole.

"Thank you sir, and sorry for being so … well."

She looked up at his face, it was back to a sneering mask and she sighed.

She quickly reached forward and grabbed his arm.

"Get some sleep too sir."

She squeezed his arm and then disappeared into the common room, hoping she'd left before she'd started blushing again. She ran her hands over her face.

God how embarrassing.

* * *

**Thanks for reading :) I know there's a long bit of text straight from the book but I just love it when everyone unites against Umbridge, I couldn't resist including it...**

***Text in between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - J.K Rowling**


	24. Chapter 24

Severus Snape felt like an idiot. He _was_ a bloody _fucking _idiot. He'd let her in too far… _Again._

He sighed.

Not that he'd been in any sort of condition to send someone so stubborn away at the time. All the same, he should have tried.

When he'd returned to his office, already stressed and angry about the state Montague was in, and seen the Pensive rippling … he'd just known. He'd just known that bloody Potter had stuck his overlarge head straight into his most sacred and private memories. That boy was nothing but a menace. Severus knew he should count himself lucky that the boy had seen his worst memory out of context – he hadn't understood the significance of it, but he didn't feel very lucky. Far from it. But at least Potter didn't know about himself and Lily. He really would have just had to poison himself if that had happened.

He'd been so blinded by such an intense anger, an anger borne of old pain and humiliation that he couldn't even remember what he'd said to the boy. It had taken the all the self control he possessed not to hurt the brat, and even then his anger had been so powerful that he'd wandlessly shattered a jar of cockroaches right by Potter's head. He wasn't sure how much he'd destroyed his office by hand and how much he'd done by magic. He hadn't totally lost control like that in a very long time. After he'd ridden his tantrum out, – and yes, if he was honest it had been a tantrum; he'd thrown jars, torn down shelves, overturned his desk, screaming and swearing the entire time - he'd just felt empty and heavy and sunk into a despair so deep, a tiny part of his brain that had still been active and rational had been panicking that he'd never pull himself out of it. And he'd just fallen to the floor where he stood and lain there, unmoving, wallowing in his own pain, picturing himself with his underwear exposed in front of the whole school, gagging on soap bubbles, calling the only girl who he'd ever loved an unforgivable name. The only girl who'd ever cared about him. Even his Mother hadn't been too bothered. She hadn't wanted him suffering or dead, but other than that she'd been rather indifferent to his existence. Lily had been the only one who'd cared about him, and look what he'd done to her. He'd as good as killed her. Nothing could change that.

'She was the only girl who cared about you, until now…' said a dangerous little voice in his head, but he ignored it.

Lily. It was always Lily.

He'd been so far gone that Granger's voice had seemed to come to him from a great distance, but she'd sounded so worried, and then she started stroking his hair. It had been a very, very long time since someone had stroked his hair, in fact only his Grandmother ever had, and she'd died when he was 7… It had felt indecently good and he'd been desperate to focus on something other than his own misery. And then she'd insisted on tending to his nosebleed, like they were… well … she'd behaved in a manner that had been inappropriate and far too familiar.

And he'd let her.

It had been a long time since he'd let his emotions get so far out of control it had resulted in a nosebleed. And Granger had been a witness. Again. A hot, prickling humiliation spread through him. Oh God, and then he'd lain with his head on her lap. He groaned. He'd been so desperate for her to understand, for anyone to understand; they'd looked at one another and he'd seen such honesty in her face, in her big amber eyes, he'd felt the last of his defences crumble, and then they'd been this weight in the forefront of his mind and he'd felt a heavy concern that wasn't his own and he'd quickly looked away. Best not to focus on what that had been. This was bad. She'd reached for his hand after that, almost as if she understood how desperately and completely alone he was, and wanted to reach out to him, but she hadn't been able to reach and in that second he'd felt such a deep sense of disappointment that he'd just reached out to her, without thinking, and she'd grabbed his hand and held on tight. The feel of another person's hand in his, another person holding onto him had been immeasurably comforting. He'd fallen asleep in that same position. Lulled into a slumber by his complete, bone-weary exhaustion and despair and the feel of her fingers stroking his hair. His horrible, greasy hair. Granger obviously didn't think it was horrible … not that it mattered, of course.

He'd been woken by a nightmare, as he so often was these days, but the details were gone, it had been something about Lily… But Granger had been there, she'd stayed with him, it must have been for hours. And she'd given him yet another bloody glass of water, it was becoming her signature move – if in doubt, give water. He smirked, then frowned. No more glasses of water from her. It had to stop.

She'd asked him if he was ok that night, and by God he'd been anything but. The images of his worst memory had been playing on repeat ever since Potter had seen it, his total humiliation and the loss of something so deeply precious to him playing out over and over again. And Lily had never forgiven him. And now she never could. Not that he deserved forgiveness or ever would. He'd almost wanted to tell the girl everything in that moment, and he probably would have done if the prospect of actually voicing all of it hadn't been so horrific. And he didn't want to see the rejection, the hate in her eyes if she ever found out _he _was the reason her best friend's parents were dead.

He'd been letting the girl get under his skin, and it just couldn't happen. Aside from it being undesirable and wildly inappropriate, he had more than enough on his plate without adding a stubborn, intelligent, psychologically challenged Gryffindor into the mix. She needed to stay away from him. But he'd been so weak that night, she'd sat next to him, pulled the blanket over their laps and taken his hand. He'd tried to resist, if only for a moment, but she'd clung on and idiot that he was he'd held her hand back, held it tightly, using it's warmth and strength to remind himself why he was in the Order, why he was risking everything, why he would always fight the Dark Lord. He'd needed a teenage girl's strength to help him remember. He really didn't want to analyse why that was.

'_I _care about you.' Her whispered confession had haunted him ever since that night. '_I _care about you.'

And she did care about him. He knew she did and that was part of the problem. She was nice to him, she was growing into an attractive young woman, she was intelligent, witty and brave and energetic and she'd care if he died. That was the crux of the matter, he'd imagine his own death plenty of times, he lived with an ever present threat of it, and what had always made him more melancholy than death itself was the thought of no one mourning him. And no one would, not really, he was useful to people, and that was about it. But for some reason Granger cared, and he'd never imagined someone like her, someone so wholly _good, _even if she was annoying, would mourn him. And if he was brutally honest with himself, that was why he was finding it so hard to push her away; deep down, he wanted someone like her to miss him when he was gone. He knew his chances of getting through this war were slim, and he secretly, desperately wanted to be missed, at least by one, decent person. And Granger was decent. More than decent. And she cared about him, she even seemed to like him. Maybe he'd just never outgrown that little boy desperate to be accepted.

Shit he was in deep trouble.

He'd decided to push her away after that night but his resolve hadn't lasted long; a mere few days in fact. He'd been patrolling the corridors as he so often did when he was unable to sleep, reliving one of Umbridge's staff meetings where McGonagall had wandlessly and nonverbally Transfigured the Headmistress' teacup into a toad, complete with warts, when Granger had come hurtling towards him, half naked and crying her eyes out and collided with him. He'd grabbed her out of instinct, wondering what on earth had happened to girl and feeling an unfamiliar sense of worry when she'd started screaming. And wailing. And sobbing. He'd stood there completely frozen for what felt like an age, before he'd just yelled at her. And she'd stopped screaming and almost gone limp in his arms, her tearstained face a picture of relief before she'd remembered herself and turned away from him. Granger was probably the only student in history that would be relieved to see him in the middle of the night. And she knew he was Death Eater.

He shook his head.

It had turned out she'd had a nightmare and then he'd been the one who was relieved, relieved that it was nothing worse. And instead of sending her back to her dormitory like he should have, he'd led her into an empty classroom, tried very hard not to look at her long bare legs, and had a hot chocolate with her.

Shit. That was more than what he'd do for a member of his own house.

When she'd asked him about the Dark Lord finding out about his treachery, he'd immediately suspected that her nightmare had involved him, and for it to reduce her to that state was very worrying, even if it did make him feel a little less alone. So he'd remembered his earlier resolve and tried to scare her away, fear and survival instinct could be a very powerful thing. But it had backfired somewhat when the little harridan had yelled at him. 'I TRUST YOU, YOU GREAT BIG IDIOT'. He really, really should have been furious at her for speaking to him in such a manner, but it had come as such a shock he'd almost started properly laughing. Admittedly he'd managed to reduce it to a chuckle but he was still allowing himself far too many liberties when it came to that blasted little Gryffindor and it really, really had to stop.

* * *

Snape was ignoring her again. A tiny part of her was quite pleased because she still felt hot and embarrassed every time she remembered crying and snotting all over him. That was probably why he was ignoring her – he must have found it embarrassing too, and she hadn't exactly been fully dressed. She coloured. Well, he could ignore her for now, it was unpleasant but maybe necessary for the time being, it was June now and OWLs were upon them. Maybe having a distraction in black, who she really liked, actively avoiding _her_ was a good thing. Only for now of course, she'd bide her time and they'd soon be back on track.

Back on track for what? Best not think about that right now.

*"Please, Professor," said Hermione, her hand in the air, "when will we find out our results?"

"An owl will be sent to you sometime in July," said Professor McGonagall.*

That was a very long time to wait for something so crucial. The knot of worry in her stomach tightened. She sighed.

There was a war on. Perspective.

* * *

Charms came and went, then Transfiguration, then Herbology, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes and it was the weekend. Snape was still stonily ignoring her and it was starting to hurt, which only made her extremely bad tempered. It didn't help that Potions was their next exam and she wanted Professor Snape to wish her luck so much it felt like a physical ache in her chest. Fat chance of that happening.

* * *

It didn't happen. She didn't even see him before the exam and it made her edgy for the both the written paper and the practical. Bloody man. The mere absence of his presence was getting to her. Then came Care of Magical Creatures (in which she was almost desperate to do well in the hope it would stop Hagrid getting sacked) then the Astronomy paper, Arithmancy and the Astronomy practical at 11pm.

She was just checking over her work when she heard a roar from the grounds that instantly sent her pulse through the roof.

*Professor Tofty gave a dry little cough.

"Try and concentrate, now, boys and girls," he said softly.

There was a loud BANG from the grounds.

Hagrid's door had burst open and by the light flooding out of the cabin they saw him quite clearly, a massive figure roaring and brandishing his fists, surrounded by six people, all of whom, judging by the tiny threads of red light they were casting in his direction, seemed to be attempting to Stun him.

"No!" She cried.

"My dear!" Said Professor Tofty in a scandalised voice. "This is an examination!"

But nobody was paying the slightest attention to their star-charts any more. Jets of red light were still flying about beside Hagrid's cabin, yet somehow they seemed to be bouncing off him; he was still upright and fighting.

Hagrid gave a howl of fury when Fang was stunned, lifted the culprit bodily from the ground and threw him; the man flew what looked like ten feet and did not get up again. Hermione gasped; none of them had ever seen Hagrid in a real temper before.

"How dare you!" A figure shouted as she ran towards the scene. "How dare you!"

"It's McGonagall!" She whispered.

"Leave him alone! Alone, I say!" said Professor McGonagall's voice through the darkness. "On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such - "

Hermione, Parvati and Lavender all screamed. The figures around the cabin had shot no fewer than four Stunners at Professor McGonagall. Halfway between cabin and castle the red beams collided with her; for a moment she looked luminous and glowed an eerie red, then she lifted right off her feet, landed hard on her back, and moved no more.

"Galloping gargoyles!" shouted Professor Tofty, who also seemed to have forgotten the exam completely. "Not so much as a warning! Outrageous behaviour!"

"COWARDS!" bellowed Hagrid; his voice carried clearly to the top of the tower, and several lights flickered back on inside the castle. "RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O' THAT - AN' THAT - "

"Oh my - " She gasped.

Hagrid took two massive swipes at his closest attackers; judging by their immediate collapse, they had been knocked cold.

"Get him, get him!" screamed Umbridge, but her remaining helper seemed highly reluctant to go within reach of Hagrid's fists; indeed, he was backing away so fast he tripped over one of his unconscious colleagues and fell over. Hagrid had turned and begun to run with Fang still hung around his neck. Umbridge sent one last Stunning Spell after him but it missed; and Hagrid, running full-pelt towards the distant gates, disappeared into the darkness.

There was a long minute's quivering silence as everybody gazed open-mouthed into the grounds. Then Professor Tofty's voice said feebly, "Um ... five minutes to go, everybody."*

But she didn't even look at her paper again. First they'd got rid of Dumbledore, now they were going after those who were closest to him. Snape would surely be next, he was in the Order. An eerie cold settled over her shoulders. She'd get Umbridge for this, no matter how long it took, she'd get her. She could feel herself shaking and she honestly didn't know if it was from rage, fear for McGonagall or just from an unhealthy surge of adrenalin.

* * *

Though she was extremely tempted to sneak to the hospital wing to see if McGonagall was okay, something held her back. The thought of seeing her fierce, strong, fiery head of house lying motionless in a bed was almost too much to bear. How could they do this?! How could they get away with it there were so many witnesses?! But deep down she knew they would, the Ministry of Magic was corrupt these day, rotting with fear, and there was nothing she could do about it. She punched her pillow into a more comfortable shape letting out an angry huff of breath. It felt like they were at war with the Government, as well as Voldemort. How many battles were ahead?

* * *

She faced her last exam with a growing sense of relief, not knowing that today would be the day she faced death, in a silver mask.

*"Harry!" she said, very frightened. "What happened? Are you all right? Are you ill?"

"Where have you been?" demanded Ron.

"Come with me," Harry said quickly, looking manic. "Come on, I've got to tell you something."

He led them along the first-floor corridor, peering through doorways, and at last found an empty classroom into which he dived, closing the door behind them the moment they were inside, and leaned against it, facing them.

"Voldemort's got Sirius."

The world seemed to slow down.

"What?"

"How d'you - ?"

"Saw it. Just now. When I fell asleep in the exam."

"But - but where? How?" said Hermione, whose face was white.

"I dunno how," said Harry. "But I know exactly where. There's a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls and they're at the end of row ninety-seven ... he's trying to use Sirius to get whatever it is he wants from in there ... he's torturing him ... says he'll end by killing him!"

Harry's voice was shaking, as were his knees. He moved over to a desk and sat down on it.

"How're we going to get there?" He asked them.

There was a moment's silence. Then Ron said, "G-get there?"

"Get to the Department of Mysteries, so we can rescue Sirius!" Harry said loudly.*

And after that everything turned into a hideous blur. It didn't matter that she didn't like Sirius, he loved Harry and Harry loved him, Harry needed him, and no one deserved to be tortured for hours on end. And there were no members of the Order left that they could turn to.

Snape.

How had she not thought of him?

But there was no way Harry would go to Snape for help, he didn't trust him an inch. And right now Harry was so frantic and angry and wouldn't listen to reason at all. There was something very dodgy about this whole thing, but all she could focus on was forming some sort of a plan before they went running off to rescue Sirius.

And that was how they ended up in Umbridge's office.

And that was how they got caught.

* * *

When Umbridge and the Inquisitorial Squad laughed about Professor McGonagall's condition, a fury so intense swept through her, and she was filled with so much anger and hate that it simultaneously scared and excited her, she could feel it stirring her magic, her pulse increased and her mind was moving so fast she knew she'd do whatever it took to protect Sirius and Harry and whoever else from evil. And right now Professor Umbridge was the evil.

But then Snape was there, looking wonderfully indifferent and hope flared bright and clean on her chest, but she couldn't quite see him properly, if she could just make eye contact, maybe he'd be able to get into her head… She struggled more violently but to no avail.

*"'You took my last bottle of Veritaserum to interrogate Potter," he said, surveying her coolly through his greasy curtains of black hair. "Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient."

Umbridge flushed.

"You can make some more, can't you?" she said, her voice becoming more sweetly girlish as it always did when she was furious.

"Certainly," said Snape, his lip curling. "It takes a full moon-cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month."*

She felt such a rush of affection for him in that moment that she almost cried.

* * *

Afterwards she didn't have much time to think of her Potions Professor again, except to wish she could have frozen time in that moment and spoken to him openly.

All too soon she was leading Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest, terrified but fiercely determined, steel flowing through her veins. As if she would have let that evil old had cast a single spell against her friend. She'd been rather good at Drama in Primary School.

* * *

It hadn't gone exactly to plan with the centaurs, in fact they were quite savage when they turned on her and Harry, all the same the triumph that overtook her when Umbridge was carried off, screaming and shouting more than made up for it. Revenge was wonderful.

Then Ginny, Ron, Neville and Luna were there and she was soaring through the night air, an invisible body underneath her and dread in her heart. This wasn't right. If she could have just got back to the castle and spoken to Snape … but it came to a choice between staying with her friends or leaving them. And she couldn't leave them. She would never, ever leave them.

The Thestrals flew very fast and she was terrified and cold and unbelievably uneasy. Twilight fell and the Thestrals flew on, eventually changing direction rather too abruptly and heading for the ground.

She would have enjoyed looking around the Ministry under different circumstances; it really did have the most interesting history… But then they entered the dark depths of the Department of Mysteries and foreboding thrummed through her body like a drug.

There were brains swimming in eerie green liquid, an archway with a decaying black curtain that entranced and mesmerised those who got too close, a shining room covered in clocks and jars containing time itself, and then they were in a dusty room, taller and larger than a church with glimmering orbs and a heavy silence.

*"Ninety-seven!' whispered Hermione.

They stood grouped around the end of the row, gazing down the alley beside it. There was nobody there. Her stomach twisted.

"He's right down at the end," said Harry dryly. "You can't see properly from here."

And he led them between the towering rows of glass balls, some of which glowed softly as they passed …

"He should be near here," whispered Harry, "anywhere here ... really close ..."

"Harry?" She said tentatively, but he did not respond.

"Somewhere about ... here ..." he said.

They had reached the end of the row and emerged into more dim candlelight, there was nobody there. Only an echoing, dusty silence and she knew something was very, very wrong.

"He might be ..." Harry whispered hoarsely, peering down the next alley. "Or maybe..." He hurried to look down the one beyond that.

"Harry?" She said again.

"What?" He snarled.

"I ... I don't think Sirius is here."*

And then everything dissolved into chaos as her very worst fears were realised in the form of numerous tall, robed figures with glinting masks and wands pointed straight at their chests. If she got out of this alive she knew that this moment would haunt her for many years. But Harry, she had to keep Harry safe.

Hermione thought of Snape. She wasn't sure if she wanted him to be behind one of those masks or not. On the one hand they would stand a much better chance if he fought alongside them, but she didn't want him to be faced with an impossible decision. He'd have to reveal himself as loyal to the Order if he helped them, eliminating him as one of the most valuable tools the society had, and then Voldemort would hunt him to his death. Or he'd have to stand back and watch them die. Her chest filled with worry for him. No, she didn't want to be here, she hoped wholeheartedly he was somewhere else, somewhere safe where he wouldn't have to suffer for their stupidity.

And then there was glass shattering everywhere and pearly white figures un-furling into the air around them and they were running, running faster than they ever had before and all she could hear was the mad thudding in her ears as her blood rushed around her body.

She only got vague impressions of flashes of spells and glittering lights before they were hiding under the desks, and she was so much more afraid than she'd ever been in her entire life. Then they were fighting, 3 children fighting Voldemort's elite.

She was just starting to think they had a chance when there was a bright flash of purple, a stab of pain and the world dissolved around her…

* * *

**Right here it is! Sorry it took so long, because the whole Department of Mysteries bit is so big and important it's taken me ages to figure out how to write around it. Obviously I know what I'm doing now so it shouldn't take as long for the next chapter to be posted. **

**I have been working crazy hours this week, and I will be next week too, in a last ditch attempt to get more money before I go back to University so please bear with me :)**

**I'm also sorry there's no Snermione scenes in this one but there will be soon I swear ;)**

**Last thing - I've started a fandom fashion account on Instagram, I've been meaning to for an age. They'll be lots of Harry Potter pieces but items from other fandoms too. Check it out if you're interested - search "fandom_merchandise_"**

**Thanks for reading**

***Text in between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - J.K Rowling**


	25. Chapter 25

When Severus received Dumbledore's patronus telling him to go to the school gates, and help with the casualties, an electric current seemed to pass through him, filling his every fibre with foreboding. He stood bolt upright at once and ran out of the castle, ran faster than he knew he could, an unfamiliar and overpowering fear coursing through him.

This was it then.

He'd contacted Headquarters at once after he'd received Potter's cryptic message and found Black alive and well as he'd expected. Then he'd been furious with the boy for getting himself and his friends into so much trouble with Umbridge. The woman was dangerous. He'd kept a close watch on her office under the safety of a Disillusionment Charm, horrified when he'd watched her force Potter and Miss Granger outside at wandpoint. But the girls eyes had gleamed in a rather menacing manner, a manner he'd never expected to see from her, and he'd trusted that she'd had a plan, watching the Forbidden Forest anxiously from one of the upper windows. Time had gone very slowly as he'd watched, a knot of unease forming and twisting sickeningly as he'd thought of Granger with that monster, wandless in there, but then he'd seen her fellow miscreants running into the trees and a bubble of relief had risen in his chest; at least they wouldn't be alone.

He'd checked the time every few minutes, hardly believing it could pass so slowly, his ears only hearing his pulse, and when it had been over an hour, he'd Summoned his mirror that Dumbledore had given them all to communicate with. There were so many layers of protection it took him several precious minutes to activate it with his fumbling hands. Moody, Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley and Black had all been present at Headquarters and all leapt to go and help Potter. _Potter. _Not anyone else. It was always about _Potter_. He'd known Sirius did not possess the self control to stay and wait for Dumbledore, but instructed him to do so all the same, barely even hearing the insults and having to focus on keeping himself sneering and indifferent when there was a flighty, white panic beginning to flow through his veins.

Foolish, stupid girl.

He'd run into the forest to search for her, for them, and as he'd searched tirelessly and frantically, anger had started to boil through him. Stupid, bloody, arrogant Potter and stupid foolish girl. WHY hadn't she come to him instead of running straight into the Dark Lord's trap?

Then he started panicking again. Why had the Dark Lord told him nothing of these plans? Had it been some kind of test? And if so, would the Dark Lord realise it had been_ him_ to summon the Order? How many Death Eaters had been present? Verses how many Order members? His chest tightened.

Severus reached gates and saw an unconscious Tonks floating before a broken looking Lupin, a bleeding Moody leaning heavily on his staff, a twitching Kingsley, a Lovegood with a huge lump on her head holding up the Weasley girl who was pale and limping, the Weasley boy was giggling feebly with a bloody mouth and huge welts on his arms, while Longbottom was trying to pull him along, his nose mangled. And then everything seemed to go as cold and silent as if a Dementor had floated into their midst. Granger was on a stretcher next to Tonks, her body partially obscured, her face white and bloodless.

"Who is the most gravely injured?" He asked, his voice sounding to his own ears to come from a long way away. He knew the answer before they all turned to look at Granger, but his stomach flipped painfully all the same.

He wordlessly took over the floating stretcher.

"Madam Pomfrey is in the hospital wing. She's ready for you."

And then he began walking briskly inside, breaking into a run once he was out of sight and not stopping until he reached Poppy.

"Gracious Severus! What's happened to the girl?"

"I don't know yet." He answered shortly, running diagnostic charms as Poppy settled Granger's limp body on the bed.

It was Dolohov's curse, weaker than usual, but still serious.

"It's a Dark curse Poppy, I know the spell to counteract its effects but she'll need potions to help her fight it. Blood-Replenishing Potion, Grand Pepperup, Invigoration Draught, Restoration and Replenishing Potion mixed together, Strength and Vitamix Potion, Calming Draught, Felix Felicis, Girding Potion and a concoction of Wormwood, Fairy wings, Dragon thoraxes and Mandrake roots in equal parts. And Dittany to help with the scarring. Changes will need to be made to the treatment after tonight but this is our immediate course of action. Go."

His voice was harsh but he knew the Matron would understand, speed was often far more necessary that politeness. He stared at Granger's small, lifeless body.

"You idiot girl." He whispered, his voice hoarse as a lump formed in his throat, but then he gave himself a mental shake and began work on the counter-curse, chanting softly until he felt it break its hold on her. She needed to fight it now.

It was a mark of how fast he'd run that Poppy returned with everything he'd asked for, and set up a privacy screen around them before anyone else reached the hospital wing.

They helped Granger to swallow the potions together, and something in his chest throbbed painfully when Poppy held her unconscious body upright.

"She'll be fine Severus." Said Poppy gently. That woman had always seen through him in a way the Dark Lord never could. He nodded, turning to leave but hesitating at the curtain.

"I should stay and monitor her condition." He said stiffly, not looking directly at the Matron.

"Then I'll go and tend to the others."

And he was left alone with her.

He stood motionless, staring at her chest moving gently up and down as she breathed. Poppy had applied the Dittany to the entry wound of the curse, he hadn't felt … able … to touch her bare skin in such an intimate place without her permission. It was stupid really. But it just hadn't felt … right. Stupid, stupid girl. Something hot and painful swelled in his chest. Stupid girl! He'd give her a piece of his mind when she woke up…

He drew up a chair and settled himself by her bed, checking all her vital signs. She was doing better than he'd expected. Time passed at an unclear rate as he stared at her face, it was regaining colour but still very pale. He'd never realised how much he valued the smiles she bestowed upon him so lightly, even though he was so very undeserving. She seemed to look older when she was unconscious, or maybe that was just the effects of tonight's battle.

The battle.

He still didn't know how it had gone.

Well they'd all returned alive, that was surely a good sign. He hadn't seen Black, but it wasn't as though they could really bring an escaped convict into a school infirmary. He'd need to talk to Dumbledore at some point of course, but the headmaster could come to him. He wasn't going anywhere in a hurry.

Morning light had started to filter through the windows and he yawned; another sleepless night.

Poppy stuck her head around the curtain. "Severus I can't seem to get rid of the welts on Mr Weasley's arms. He's asleep now but what-"

"Dr Ubbly's Oblivious Unction should improve the appearance of pretty much anything." He cut across her tiredly.

"Thank you Severus." She sent a strong cup of coffee his way which he took gratefully, cupping his hands around it, hoping it would relieve some of the cold in his extremities.

The next interruption came in the form of Dumbledore, who drew an armchair for himself and settled beside him.

"How is she, Severus?" He asked tiredly.

"She'll live." He answered shortly, turning to look at her headmaster and feeling a fission of fear down his spine when he took in the old man's appearance. He looked exhausted and … _old. _Really old. "The others?"

"They'll all live too I'm pleased to say. We lost Sirius tonight though." Dumbledore said heavily, a trace of a shake in his voice.

The Potion Master did a double take, staring at Dumbledore, his feelings in complete disarray.

"Black is dead?"

"Yes Severus. I know you won't mourn him but his death is a great loss to the Order, to Harry."

Severus snorted; it wasn't like the dog had been much use so far. And he didn't give a damn about Potter's loss. It was _his _fault anyway.

Black was dead. How strange. He'd managed to outlive his two biggest tormentors. Now if he could just outlive Wormtail and the Dark Lord he might really be on to something. Wormtail. A shudder ran through him. He hated that little rat. The weakling who betrayed his friends. Who betrayed Lily. At least he wasn't popular with the Dark Lord or any of the Death Eaters, there was some sort of satisfaction in watching him used as a slave…

"We need to deal with Kreacher too, he betrayed the Order. He informed Harry that Sirius was gone when he contacted headquarters. And Voldemort revealed himself today." Dumbledore said wearily. "Lucius, along with several other Death Eaters, is heading straight to Azkaban. Bellatrix will be out of favour too; the Prophecy was destroyed and no one heard it."

He processed this information in silence, releasing his left arm from his grasp as he noticed he was holding it for the first time. His stomach tightened as he realised what this would mean for him.

"If it is offered to me, you wish me to accept the role of Lieutenant?" He asked, knowing the answer instantly at the sad look on Dumbledore's aging face.

"Yes." Dumbledore answered simply.

Severus nodded. It wasn't as if he had a choice anyway. No one could really refuse anything the Dark Lord offered freely and live. His path was getting steadily Darker and he hated it.

"We'll have a full Order meeting in the next few days to discuss all that has happened and make our plans. I should imagine you'll be called to his side soon enough." Said Dumbledore, running a hand through his silver beard.

"I'll give you a full report." He said, hoping Dumbledore would leave him with his confused emotions.

To his relief the headmaster stood, Vanished his chair and laid a hand on Severus' shoulder. He appreciated the gesture, but something about Dumbledore treating him like that made him uneasy, and he sat stiffly until the old man left.

He turned back to look at Granger. His anger at her had abated somewhat as the time had gone on, but when he thought of her foolishly running after Potter like a stupid little side-kick with no brain of her own, it arose in his chest once more like a monster. Bloody idiot girl.

He growled and scrubbed his hands against his face.

That's when she stirred.

For what seemed like an eternity, he stared at her fluttering eyelids, mesmerised as surely as if she'd turned into a Veela. And then she opened her eyes, blinking and peering around the room until those huge, honest eyes settled on him. And she smiled at him. Something erupted behind his sternum leaving him utterly breathless, and all he could do was stare at her.

But then as her mind caught up, the smile faded from her face and a look of terrible fear and apprehension replaced it.

"Harry? Where is he? Ron? What happened?" She asked, her voice scratchy, and she tried to get up. In an instant he stood and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, a rush of warmth coursing through him when she didn't resist and merely settled herself back down and looked up at him expectantly.

He removed his hand from her slowly, missing her warmth at once and cursing himself for it.

"You're friends will be fine Miss Granger. They're sleeping."

The girl closed her eyes for a second, the look of relief on her face so absolute it made his heart twinge.

"How are you feeling?" He asked her awkwardly, telling himself he had to know because there could be lasting effects of the curse, and he needed to know her condition to determine that.

She frowned slightly, her eyes averted as if she was taking stock.

"My head and chest hurt a bit," she said slowly, "but other than that I feel alright, thank you."

He sighed feeling an unusual swell of calm.

"What happened sir?" Her voice was fearful.

"The Order came to your assistance, Kingsley, Tonks, Moody, Lupin and Black." He answered, his voice soft.

"And are they ok?"

He looked away from her big, hopeful eyes.

"Black is dead." He told her, looking back up at her sharp intake of breath. There were tears in her eyes. Something twisted and he was suddenly angry. "I thought you didn't like him anyway?" He said harshly.

She looked away, pain in her eyes.

"I didn't want him dead." She whispered. "No one should have died. It was our fault, we were so stupid…"

Her voice trailed off and he gave her a moment to gather herself, not wanting to see her shed tears over a man he hated. He sat back down.

"Are you okay sir?" She asked him quietly, and he stared at her in confusion, his brows creased. "You weren't there?" She asked. He shook his head and she let out a huge puff of breath, then flinched slightly, her hand flying to her chest.

"I was so worried you were there sir, behind one of those masks. I thought you might have had to choose between keeping your cover and saving us. A horrid, impossible decision with awful consequences either way. I was so worried you would suffer because of our foolishness, Professor."

She looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes once more and every breath left his lungs. He felt totally defenceless, his anger dissolving in an instant, giving way to fear and hope and some other emotion he couldn't quite identify.

"I was here." He told her, his voice hoarse and scratchy. "I was searching for you."

She closed her eyes as if in pain.

"I wanted to come and find you so much sir, the whole thing just didn't feel right, but Harry was so frantic, well of course he was, it wasn't his fault, but it was all I could do to get him to Floo Grimmauld Place first. And Kreacher said …"

She trailed off with a look of befuddlement, a stray curl falling over her face. He could just reach out … and … NO.

"Kreacher betrayed the Order, Miss Granger. He lied."

"Oh." She batted away the curl, her eyes unfocused.

"The prophecy?!" She asked him urgently and he found his lips twitching slightly.

"Smashed. No one heard it."

"Oh." She bit her lip.

"You should be resting." He told her, slipping back into more formal tones. She looked at him with a disapproving expression, one of the only ones she'd ever given him.

"So should you sir."

He opened his mouth to tell her off for her cheek but she was grinning at him, her face such a curious mixture of humour and apprehension that all he could do was let out an amused huff of air and close his mouth again. It was wonderful to see her smile.

Shit.

He gave himself a mental shake and glared at her, ignoring the twinge of regret when the smile faded from her face and she looked sad again, obviously remembering what he'd told her and the events that had taken place.

"Sleep, Miss Granger." He said, allowing his voice to slip into softer tones, if only for now.

"Yes sir." She offered him a very small smile and shut her eyes, shifting into a more comfortable position and falling asleep almost at once, judging by her deep, even breathing. She'd just fallen asleep in the presence of a Death Eater. A Death Eater who was soon to be at the top of the ranks. He sighed heavily, rubbing his tired eyes.

Severus left the hospital wing before anyone woke, but he must have fallen asleep at some point, however briefly, because when he woke, stiff and sore in the chair next to Granger's bed, there was a soft, heavy blanket draped around him, cocooning him in warmth. And Granger was asleep on her side rather than her back, she was facing him.

* * *

*"Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy, though it is believed that He Who Must Not Be Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening.

"Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reinstated member of the International Confederation of Wizards and reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, has so far been unavailable for comment. He has insisted over the past year that You-Know-Who is not dead, as was widely hoped and believed, but is recruiting followers once more for afresh attempt to seize power. Meanwhile, the 'Boy Who Lived' -"

"There you are, Harry, I knew they'd drag you into it somehow," said Hermione, looking over the top of the paper at him.*

It was Sunday and she was still in the Hospital, drinking about 10 different potions every day and really rather fed up of it by now.

She hadn't seen Snape since her first night in the infirmary. He'd been there when she woke up, sitting by her bedside. She felt herself flush with pleasure. And he hadn't even seemed angry. And he'd talked to her, properly. And he'd stayed after she'd fallen asleep. She'd woken a few hours later, desperate for the toilet … and there he was. Still. Asleep in his chair by her bed. The sight at warmed every inch of her and for ages all she'd been able to do was stare at his sleeping, peaceful face and ache inside. But then she'd really had to go to the toilet. When she'd returned he'd still been there, sleeping, and seemly undisturbed by nightmares for once. She'd conjured the biggest, softest blanket she could visualise and gently draped it over him, slipping into bed and resolving to watch him sleep until he woke up, relishing in the ache in her chest because it was good to feel something other than guilt. But sleep had claimed her, and the next time she'd woken, he'd gone. But so had the blanket. She smiled a secret smile. Hopefully it was in his chambers somewhere. She tried not to feel pathetic at how happy the thought make her.

She tuned back into the conversation.

*"I s'pose Filch is happy, is he?" asked Ron, propping a Chocolate Frog Card featuring Dumbledore against his water jug.

"Not at all," said Ginny. "He's really, really miserable, actually ..." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "He keeps saying Umbridge was the best thing that ever happened to Hogwarts…"

All six of them looked around. Professor Umbridge was lying in a bed opposite them, gazing up at the ceiling. Dumbledore had strode alone into the Forest to rescue her from the centaurs; how he had done it - how he had emerged from the trees supporting Professor Umbridge without so much as a scratch on him - nobody knew, and Umbridge was certainly not telling. Since she had returned to the castle she had not, as far as any of them knew, uttered a single word. Nobody really knew what was wrong with her, either. Her usually neat mousy hair was very untidy and there were still bits of twigs and leaves in it, but otherwise she seemed to be quite unscathed.

"Madam Pomfrey says she's just in shock," she whispered, trying to keep the malicious joy in her voice to a minimum.

"Sulking, more like," said Ginny.

"Yeah, she shows signs of life if you do this," said Ron, and with his tongue he made soft clip-clopping noises. Umbridge sat bolt upright, looking around wildly.

"Anything wrong, Professor?" called Madam Pomfrey, poking her head around her office door.

"No ... no ..." said Umbridge, sinking back into her pillows. "No, I must have been dreaming..."

Hermione and Ginny muffled their laughter in the bedclothes.*

Maybe Karma did exist.

* * *

She was released from Madam Pomfrey's care 3 days before the end of term, completely cured with only minor scarring. She kept trying to talk to Harry about Sirius, his grief was a palpable thing in the air around him, but he didn't seem keen and Ron kept shushing her anyway. He'd talk when he was ready.

* * *

Hermione went to the Potion Master's office the next day, feeling her stomach jolt as she neared the door. She knocked.

"Enter."

She opened the door and took in the sight of him, feeling her cheeks heat a little. As she walked towards him she felt a trickle of unease; he looked much more worn and tense since she'd last seen him.

"Miss Granger." He said, looking at her expectantly, his face devoid of the usual dislike she saw etched there.

"Thank you for helping with my recovery sir." She said softly, her hands knotted in front of her.

He nodded, looking endearingly awkward, and turned back to his work.

"Will you be at Grimmauld Place much over the summer sir?" She asked, feeling her cheeks heat once more.

He laid down his quill and gave her an intense look that seemed to momentarily swallow her whole.

"I don't know yet," he said at length, "Dumbledore has yet to determine whether it will still be suitable for use."

"Oh of course." Hermione quickly replied, feeling rather foolish. "It's just … well… I assumed that with so many of the Death Eaters back in Azkaban for the time being … well … I mean it's not as if I know how these things work… But … well … I assumed you will have moved higher up in the ranks, if you have ranks, if _they_ have ranks… And, I just… Be careful. Please." She finished, staring at her feet.

When she glanced up at Snape's face, she found him starring up at her, his expression twisted, fear in his eyes, but as she looked his face cleared into one of deliberate indifference. Her heart gave a painful jolt.

Without thinking she leant forward, putting her hands on his desk.

"Please sir, if there's anything I can do over the summer, anything at all…"

A strange silence settled between them.

"Thank you." Said Snape, his voice a strangled whisper and his eyes averted.

She stared at him in utter shock.

"Now get out Miss Granger, I have work to do." He snapped and she felt her face split into a grin.

"Yes sir." She said quietly, still smiling at him, and she turned and left, shutting the door quietly behind her.

* * *

* Professor Umbridge left Hogwarts the day before the end of term. It seemed she had crept out of the hospital wing during dinnertime, evidently hoping to depart undetected, but unfortunately for her, she met Peeves on the way, who seized his last chance to do as Fred had instructed, and chased her gleefully from the premises whacking her alternately with a walking stick and a sock full of chalk. Many students ran out into the Entrance Hall to watch her running away down the path and the Heads of Houses tried only half-heartedly to restrain them. Indeed, Professor McGonagall sank back into her chair at the staff table after a few feeble remonstrance's and was clearly heard to express a regret that she could not run cheering after Umbridge herself, because Peeves had borrowed her walking stick.* In fact Hermione even thought she saw Professor Snape crack a slight smile.

Unity was so precious these days.

* * *

Harry didn't come to the leaving feast, not that she'd really expected him to. Dumbledore made a speech about the importance of working togther in the face of Voldemort's return, but she hardly listened. She'd been watching Snape out of the corner of her eye, concentrating on him as much as she dared, knowing that she probably wouldn't see him again until September. It was more than that though, if she was honest with herself, the danger she knew her Professor was in, and the things he would have to do to maintain his cover was weighing on her like a physical weight, and the knowledge that he could actually … die… She shook her head sadly. There was nothing she could do for him.

Their eyes met as she was leaving the Hall and, not daring to smile at him in front of so many people, she nodded her head ever so slightly, drinking in the sight of him one last time…

* * *

It was wonderful to see Moody, Tonks, Lupin, Fred, George and Mr and Mrs Weasley at London, as well as her parents of course. She was hugged tightly by each of them, all of the Weasleys, Tonks, and then she went ahead and hugged Moody too. As she pulled away he cast her a rather startled, but pleased look and went to talk to Harry.

Confronting the Dursleys was wonderful. Mr Dursley nearly fell over when he saw Moody's eye and she actually laughed out loud.

*"Bye, then, Potter," said Moody, grasping Harry's shoulder for a moment with a gnarled hand.

"Take care, Harry," said Lupin quietly. "Keep in touch."

"Harry, we'll have you away from there as soon as we can," Mrs Weasley whispered.

"We'll see you soon, mate," said Ron anxiously, shaking Harry's hand.

"Really soon, Harry," she said. "We promise."*

She could see how much it had meant to Harry, it was written plainly on his face. As he turned to leave, her parents came and joined their strange looking group, and even though there was war on, even though people like her were prime targets, even though she knew they were all in danger, she'd never felt luckier.

* * *

**So we've made it through another book! Hope you like this chapter, I must have fiddled with it about 100 times.**

**I don't know if I'll manage another chapter for a bit - I'm working this event called Goodwood Revival on Friday, Saturday and Sunday (it's my 5th year, I do love it) and it's pretty much 14 hour days so they'll be no writing this weekend. And then I may need a day to sleep non-stop to feel human again. But I'll try not to be too long I promise - it will probably be about a week. **

**As always thank you for reading and review are LOVE :)**

***Text between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - J.K Rowling. If you're not following her on Twitter, get on it, she's on fire!**


	26. Chapter 26

It had been a rough summer so far. The number of muggle deaths was alarming. The bridge had collapsed, Death Eaters had torn through the West Country and Dementors were so numbered in London that there was a freezing mist in the middle of summer. And there were the hideous murders of Amelia Bones and Emmeline Vance. And reports of Inferi. The welfare of the Order members was never far from her mind, one Order member in particular.

On a slightly different note, at the start of the holidays she'd had her ritual catch up with her muggle neighbour Sean; they'd been friends since the beginning of Primary School. This year, what with the stress of the War, the stress of exams and the stress of her feelings towards a certain Professor, she hadn't turned down Sean's advances within the first two minutes of conversation. Quite the opposite in fact. He'd made the suggestion, just as he always did, she'd opened her mouth to say "no" once again when a little voice in her head she had a suspicion was a bit of a slut, had whispered "fuck it" in her ear. And she'd listened. And she'd fucked him. Several times. He was rather more experienced than her so she'd ensured he'd taught her everything he knew and as usual, she'd excelled. Hermione was most certainly not a prude any longer.

She was at the Burrow now, she'd arrived about 2 days ago and the disappointed look on her parents face when she'd told them she was leaving after less than 2 weeks was still fresh in her mind. She sighed. She knew her chances of seeing Snape here were about 0 as well which made her even more melancholy. The Weasley's were lovely though, and it was hard to be sad when there were so many of them bustling around. And Harry would be arriving soon. She felt a tiny smile take over her face. Thank God he hadn't had to spend too long with the muggles.

* * *

*"Wuzzgoinon?"

"We didn't know you were here already!"

"Ron, don't hit him!"

Harry's hand found his glasses and he shoved them on.

"All right?" Said Ron, grinning.

"Never been better," said Harry, rubbing the top of his head and slumping back onto his pillows. "You?"

"Not bad," said Ron, pulling over a cardboard box and sitting on it. "When did you get here? Mum's only just told us!"

"About one o'clock this morning."

"Were the Muggles all right? Did they treat you okay?"

"Same as usual," said Harry, as Hermione perched herself on the edge of his bed, "they didn't talk to me much, but I like it better that way. How're you, Hermione?"

"Oh, I'm fine," said Hermione, wondering whether Harry was ready to talk about Sirius yet.

"What's the time? Have I missed breakfast?" He asked quickly.

"Don't worry about that, Mum's bringing you up a tray; she reckons you look underfed," said Ron, rolling his eyes. "So, what's been going on?"

"Nothing much, I've just been stuck at my aunt and uncle's, haven't I?"

"Come off it!" said Ron. "You've been off with Dumbledore!"

"It wasn't that exciting. He just wanted me to help him persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. His name's Horace Slughorn."

"Oh and Dumbledore's going to be giving me private lessons this year," said Harry conversationally.

Ron choked on his bit of toast, and Hermione gasped.

"You kept that quiet!" said Ron.

"I only just remembered," said Harry. "He told me last night in your broom shed."

"Blimey ... private lessons with Dumbledore!" said Ron, looking impressed. "I wonder why he's ... ?"

"I don't know exactly why he's going to be giving me lessons, but I think it must be because of the prophecy."

Harry's face was set and Hermione felt her fingertips go very cold.

"You know, the one they were trying to steal at the Ministry."

"Nobody knows what it said, though," she said. "It got smashed."

"Although the Prophet says - " began Ron.

"The Prophet's got it right," said Harry, looking up at them both. "That glass ball that smashed wasn't the only record of the prophecy. I heard the whole thing in Dumbledore's office, he was the one the prophecy was made to, so he could tell me. From what it said," Harry took a deep breath, "it looks like I'm the one who's got to finish off Voldemort... At least, it said neither of us could live while the other survives."

The three of them gazed at one another in silence for a moment.

"Harry, oh, Harry..."

A bubble of panic rose in her stomach.

"We wondered, after we got back from the Ministry … Obviously, we didn't want to say anything to you, but from what Lucius Malfoy said about the prophecy, how it was about you and Voldemort, well, we thought it might be something like this. ... Oh, Harry . . ." She stared at him, feeling her own fear coursing through her, then whispered, "Are you scared?"

"Not as much as I was," said Harry. "When I first heard it, I was ... but now, it seems as though I always knew I'd have to face him in the end..."

"When we heard Dumbledore was collecting you in person, we thought he might be telling you something or showing you something to do with the prophecy," said Ron eagerly. "And we were kind of right, weren't we? He wouldn't be giving you lessons if he thought you were a goner, wouldn't waste his time. He must think you've got a chance!"

"That's true," said Hermione. "I wonder what he'll teach you, Harry? Really advanced defensive magic, probably. Powerful countercurses ... anti-jinxes ..."*

And then things just went back to normal between them, as if they hadn't just had confirmation that it was down to Harry to kill one of the most evil wizards of all time. Still, in a way Harry was right, it did sort of feel as if this was how it was always meant to be. She pushed her worry to the very back of her mind.

* * *

The next few weeks would have passed pleasantly enough if the days hadn't been interspersed with stories of disappearances and even deaths with increasing frequency. The war was in the open now. Harry's 16th Birthday celebrations were somewhat marred by the raggedly form of Remus Lupin announcing more Dementor attacks and the discovery of Karkaroff's body. Would Snape have been found in the same state if he'd run? Her stomach tightened. She wondered where he was, how he was, what his summer had been like... She missed him. It was stupid really, but she just … missed him. Missed his black robes and his sarcasm and his hair and his sneer and that wonderful depth to him that she'd only caught glimpses of. She missed Snape. If she was truly honest with herself, she knew that her feelings were more than just a crush. She'd had crushes before and they'd never felt … they'd never … never stolen all the air from her lungs, never made her hurt inside like a wound, never made her fingers drip moisture and her stomach flip quite so brutally. But then what did that mean? She didn't think she was in love with him. So what did that leave?

* * *

On the morning they were heading back to Hogwarts, Hermione woke early. She would be turning 17 this month. Of age. An adult in the wizarding world. The thought was somehow unsettling. She would be seeing Snape today. Her face went hot. She couldn't wait to see him, it had been so long and she'd been so worried … and today she would finally see him.

* * *

It was hard to say which was causing her the largest amount of worry; Snape's absence from the Great Hall, or Harry's. Harry's absence would usually trouble her more, but she'd been so geared up to see Snape, she'd entered the Hall all pounding heart and trembling hands and he hadn't been there. It had felt like someone had suddenly grabbed her intestines and given them a squeeze.

Then when Snape and Harry both entered she felt first a huge rush of relief that they were both alive and present, and then a wave of horror as she took in their appearances. Harry's face was covered with blood. Snape looked … traumatised. Even from this distance she could see the dark shadows under his eyes, the stiffness in the way he walked and the tension radiating from him. Her heart twinged. His summer must have hell. The Death Eaters had caused havoc and surely he would have had to have taken part to maintain his cover…

*Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.

"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.

Dumbledore's right hand was as blackened and dead-looking.

"What happened to his hand?" she gasped.

She was not the only one who had noticed. Whispers hit the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.

"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now ... to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you ..."

"His hand was like that when I saw him over the summer," Harry whispered to her. "I thought he'd have cured it by now, though ... or Madam Pomfrey would've done."

"It looks as if it's died," she said, an ominous feeling in her stomach. "But there are some injuries you can't cure... old curses … and there are poisons without antidotes..."

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Slughorn"— Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waist coated belly casting the table into shadow — "is a former colleague of mine who has agreed resume his old post of Potions master."

"Potions?"

"Potions?"

The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered wheel they had heard right.

"Potions?" said Ron and Hermione together, turning to stare Harry. "But you said —"

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."*

Snape got the Darks Arts job. She quickly hid her smile as the majority of the Hall looked outraged. Maybe that would cheer him up a little.

* * *

The next morning she ran into the man himself down a secluded corridor on her way to Ancient Runes. They were alone.

"Congratulations on getting the Defence post sir." She said quietly, offering him a timid smile and trying to get her heart rate under control. He looked worse close up. It wasn't anything you would really notice unless you were paying attention. His jaw was tense. The lines around his eyes looked deeper. His skin had a grey tinge. His posture was … different somehow.

He said nothing, just looked at her and she immediately felt awkward.

"Are you … how are … how bad was your summer?" She asked hopelessly, trying to fight the blush that was threatening to take over her cheeks.

"You will be late for class Miss Granger." He said, with no hint of a sneer, no hint of malice or sarcasm or warmth or anything … just … nothing. Emotionless.

But there was something stirring in the depths of his eyes and she found she couldn't look away. Hermione took a step closer.

"Are you hurt?" She whispered, hearing the beating of her heart so loudly she was sure it should be echoing around the corridor.

Snape continued to look at her. He opened his mouth for a second, then shut it again without uttering a sound.

"Professor please," she murmured, starting to feel really worried at his lack of anger or annoyance or … anything, "what's wrong? What's happened?"

Still he said nothing, just stared into her eyes and she felt sure she would be unable to look away, even if she wanted to.

She took another step closer, without breaking eye contact and found herself standing almost underneath him, their bodies were inches apart and she felt her breath stutter. Something hideous had happened to poor Snape over the summer; that was the only logical explanation, he seemed … in shock or … something.

"Professor Snape?" A lump had formed in her throat and made her voice hoarse. Still Snape said nothing, only looked down at her with a storm in those endless black eyes.

Slowly, ever so slowly, her hand moved from its place at her side. Slowly it rose through the air beside them and began to reach towards Snape's face, a millimetre at a time and still neither of them broke eye contact.

Her chest hurt.

And then, just when she had the faintest impression of soft skin beneath her fingertips … he was gone. Gone in a rustling of robes and a slight waft of air.

Hermione stood in the corridor, panting for breath, her hand trembling as she lowered it back to her side.

She was very late for her first class.

* * *

*"We got so much homework for Runes," she said anxiously when Harry and Ron joined her by the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and I've got to read these by Wednesday!"

Homework. Focus on that. Not on Snape. Don't focus on him.

Why._ Why_ did she have to have a lesson with him straight after what had happened this morning?

"Shame," yawned Ron.

"You wait," she said resentfully. "I bet Snape gives us loads."

The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately and her insides seemed to vacate her body.

Once the class was settled, Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking in a low voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."*

There was a caress in Snape's voice that unsettled her. But she knew he had … respect … for the Dark Arts; that was a bit of a given seeing as he had become a Death Eater. And a sallow skinned, greasy haired, unwashed, unloved little boy with an extensive knowledge of, and interest in the Dark Arts who was bullied by Sirius popped into her head.

*"Your defences," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures" - he indicated a few of the grotesque images as he swept past - "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" - he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony - "feel the Dementor's Kiss" - a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall - "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" - a bloody mass upon ground.

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" said Parvati Patil in a high pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Snape, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now... "

He set off again around the other side of the classroom toward his desk, and again, they watched him as he walked, his dark robes billowing behind him.

He was such an impressive figure, especially in this setting, with the curtains closed and the flickering of the candles.

She'd touched his face.

"... you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air automatically and she immediately wished it hadn't. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else, making sure he had no choice, before saying curtly, "Very well - Miss Granger?"

She felt her cheeks heat as he said her name.

"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," she said, proud of her steady voice, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," said Snape dismissively (over in the corner, Malfoy sniggered), "but correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress in using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some" - his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry - "lack."

"You will now divide," Snape went on, "into pairs. One partner will attempt jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."*

He was pretending nothing had happened earlier. Good. She could do that too.

But what had made him act like that? What had happened that was troubling him so?

She didn't particularly care when he ignored her success; she hadn't made a fool of herself. That was the main thing.

*"Pathetic, Weasley," said Snape, after a while. "Here - let me show you -"

He turned his wand on Harry so fast that Harry seemed to react instinctively and he yelled, "Protego!"

His Shield Charm was so strong Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk. She was halfway towards going to help him when she remembered herself; she could not possibly do so in front of so many people, she'd nearly done something incredibly dangerous. The whole class had looked around and now watched as Snape righted himself, scowling.

"Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry stiffly.

"Yes, sir."

"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor."

That had been totally uncalled for. Snape actually hadn't provoked Harry at all that time. Ron, Dean, and Seamus grinned appreciatively behind Snape's back and she felt a stab of anger.

Boys.

"Detention, Saturday night, my office," said Snape. "I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter ... not even 'the Chosen One.'" *

She tried to wait around after the lesson to see if her Professor was alright, in more ways than one, but he quickly exited the classroom and disappeared into his office leaving her scowling and worried.

But then they were speculating about what Harry's first lesson with Dumbledore would consist of and she happily allowed her mind to drift away from that troubling man.

* * *

*"It's supposed to smell differently to each of according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and -"

Snape.

Oh God.

It smelled like Snape.

Just … him … maybe a little of potions ingredients and … something earthy….

She felt herself turn slightly pink and did not complete the sentence.*

Snape.

* * *

He continued to avoid her and she saw him only in lessons over the next few weeks, and even then he paid her almost no attention. It was horrible.

She turned 17.

She was legally an adult.

Not that it made much difference to anything.

Dumbledore was more absent than he was present. There were frequent reports of more attacks, more disappearances, more deaths and a particularly horrible incident where Hannah Abbott was pulled out of class to be told her Mother was dead. Hermione hadn't seen her since.

And there was something about that damn Prince's textbook that really troubled her, it wasn't just that she thought he was bad, or she was jealous, it was something deeper than that. She had a feeling similar to when you enter a room with a purpose, and then immediately forget what that purpose was. It was really quite irritating.

* * *

Half way through October they were heading back from a snowy and disastrous Hogsmeade trip, when she noticed Katie Bell and her friend arguing in front of them. She barely had time to feel curious when the girl *made to grab hold of the package Katie was holding; Katie tugged it back and the package fell to the ground.

At once, Katie rose into the air, her arms outstretched, as though she was about to fly. Yet there was something wrong, something eerie... Her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face was quite empty of expression. They all had all halted in their tracks, watching.

Then, six feet above the ground, Katie let out a terrible scream. Her eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was clearly causing her terrible anguish. She screamed and screamed; Leanne started to scream too and seized Katie's ankles, trying to tug her back to the ground. Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed forward to help, but even as they grabbed Katie's legs, she fell on top of them; Harry and Ron managed to catch her but she was writhing so much they could hardly hold her. Instead they lowered her to the ground where she thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to recognize any of them.

All she could do was stare in horror feeling as frozen as if by the cold.

"Stay there!" Harry shouted over the howling wind. "I'm going for help!"

It seemed a long time before Harry came back. Hermione had read so much about Healing … she ought to know how to help … but she just didn't.

"Get back!" shouted Hagrid. "Lemme see her!"

"Something's happened to her!" sobbed Leanne. "I don't know what —"

Hagrid stared at Katie for a second, then without a word, bent down, scooped her into his arms, and ran off toward the castle with her. Within seconds, Katie's piercing screams had died away and the only sound was the roar of the wind.*

* * *

It was afterwards that the whole incident scared her. She was okay when it happened, ok during the discussions that followed … but then in the evening, after they'd eaten, she'd headed for the Library alone… And then… The enormity of what had happened hit her over the face like a sledge hammer. She didn't even know if Katie would live, if she was still alive.

Hermione walked over to the nearest window and slumped onto the window seat, instantly becoming absorbed in her thoughts.

"Miss Granger it is 4 minutes past curfew." Said a cold voice behind her and she turned to face Snape blinking in confusion. She'd had over an hour when she'd left the Hall.

"Oh." Was all she could manage to say as she stared at her Professor. He looked utterly exhausted.

"Well go to bed." He snapped.

"Sir, do you know how Katie Bell is?" She asked him, feeling a rush of adrenaline.

He sighed.

"Professor McGonagall mentioned you were there." He said, almost to himself and then indicated she should follow him into an empty classroom. He closed the door behind them with a snap. "She should live, it appears she only touched the necklace with a very small amount of skin, that made the curse easier to break but it still did a huge amount of damage. She's been transferred to St. Mungo's."

"But she'll be ok?"

"I believe so."

She felt the corner of her eyes prickle and blinked crossly.

"You helped." Hermione said quietly, remembering Madam Pomfrey telling her that Snape often aided in serious injuries.

"I know considerably more about the Dark Arts than Madam Pomfrey." He muttered, his tone bitter.

"Well that was certainly a good thing today." She answered, the conviction in her own voice startling her. Snape's eyes snapped up to hers and he frowned.

Silence settled between them but Snape did not ask her to leave.

She drank in the sight of him, feeling as if she'd been starved of his presence, then frowned. He was perched on an empty desk, his hands gripping the table a little too tightly, there was a hint of stubble on his face and his eyes were almost bleary. Again she had the feeling that something terrible had happened to him.

"Tell me about your summer." She said suddenly, hoping that he wouldn't get angry and make her leave. He was staring at her oddly, looking almost as if he was having some sort of argument within his own mind, but she did not look away, silently willing him to talk.

He didn't speak for so long that when she finally heard his voice she almost jumped.

"You read the Daily Prophet?"

She nodded, trying to hide her confusion.

"Then you know what the Death Eater's have been doing?"

Again, she nodded.

"Then you know about my summer." He finished simply.

All those disappearances, all those attacks, all those … _deaths…_

"You killed people?" Her voice was steady; she'd already considered this possibility many times.

"As good as." He answered, his expression defiant … but also … resigned.

He expected her to run.

"What does that mean?"

He stared at her for a long time, so long that she almost started to wonder if she _should_ run, but no, she trusted Snape. Even if he had killed people, that was awful. Awful for him too. That was what he had to do to maintain his cover. For Dumbledore, for the Order, for all the lives he would save with such valuable inside information. Hermione wanted to see Voldemort defeated with everything she had, but could she live his life? Was she strong enough? He was so, very brave.

Something of what she was thinking must have shown on her face because Snape's expression had changed; he looked confused and a little worried now.

"I watched people die. Muggles, muggleborns, squibs, blood traitors. I sat there and I watched." His voice was low and his eyes seemed to have darkened. "Some Death Eaters just _love _killing. So they are allowed to kill. Others prefer torture and so they torture. Some prefer rape. Are you getting the picture now, Miss Granger? Is that detailed enough for your know-it-all tendencies or would you like more details?" He hissed.

She ignored his questions and his tone for the time being, trying to process what she'd just learnt. Far from scaring her off, which she was sure had been Snape's reluctant intention, she just wanted to … hug him. How terrible that he had to go through so much, and so much alone.

"And what about you?" She asked him quietly.

His brows furrowed and he looked rather taken aback.

"I take it you don't _love _killing, or torturing, or … or raping. So what is it that you do?"

He blinked, swallowed, and then turned his head away from her, his hair curtaining his face.

"My speciality is the Imperius curse." He answered, his voice barely above a whisper. "But don't delude yourself into some ridiculous notion of me. I force ordinary people to do hideous things, things you couldn't possibly begin to imagine Granger. And if other … activities … are required of me, I do them too."

"You don't have a choice." She whispered, her throat tight, as she thought of what he must have suffered.

"There is always a choice." He responded, his voice desolate.

She moved around the room until she was in his eye line and then she stepped closer to him.

"Is that what's making you so very sad, Professor?" She asked cautiously, and knowing her suspicions were correct when she saw the fleeting look of mingled surprise and panic on his face.

He stood from the desk rather quickly but Hermione took a step closer to him once again.

"Please don't run." She implored, trying not to focus on how very close they were now.

He flashed her a glare but sat slowly back onto the desk. Hermione did a victory dance in her head. Silence settled between them again and it seemed that Snape would not answer her. His eyes were downcast and his whole demeanour seemed … defeated. Now she'd named the emotion that was plaguing him, it seemed entirely obvious that he was sad. Terribly sad. It seemed to be coming off of him in waves. Sadness and … something else, but to a lesser degree.

"It is not what I've done." He said slowly, what seemed like a long time later. "Yet."

She frowned.

"It's something you're _going_ to do then?" She asked, his flinch at her words confirmation enough. "Don't do it." She said, hating seeing her Professor this way, feeling her own chest hurt for him, for his terrible sorrow.

"I must." He whispered, his eyes fluttering closed momentarily.

"There is always a choice." Hermione said quietly, echoing his words from earlier.

He looked up at her then, and when his cold black eyes seemed to soften, she felt a weight in her head and then despair and dread and an overwhelming fear that tore at her heart, before he looked away again, leaving her panting and desperate to help him.

"This is the exception … I have no choice." He said, his voice forced and empty.

He'd turned away from her again and she took one last step closer to him, hesitantly resting her right hand on his shoulder. He jerked away from her initially, but she gently put her hand back and he didn't move away this time. Their eyes met once more, and he sent her a look heavy with so much emotion she thought she might suffocate, and do so willingly, it if would help him. Then he dropped his head and slumped forwards, seemingly overwhelmed by whatever it was to come.

Hermione squeezed his shoulder, wishing she could do something for him, anything. The top of his bowed head was very close to her. It would be so easy for her to lean forwards and … kiss it… No. No. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a lump form in her throat. She mustn't. The last thing she needed now was to scare him off.

"Will you ever tell me what it is?" She asked, her voice a hoarse whisper as she desperately sought to control her emotions.

"I cannot speak of it." He said quietly, talking to the floor. "I should not have even spoken this liberally, you must not tell anyone, this is - this must remain - "

"I won't say anything, to anyone, _ever_, I … I promise." She said quickly, and he seemed to relax ever so slightly at her words.

"Go to bed, Miss Granger."

But she couldn't just leave him … not like this… She tightened her hand on his shoulder, and then she did something incredibly reckless.

Slowly, she moved herself even closer to him, so close their bodies were almost touching, and then with her left hand, she guided his bowed head towards her, bringing him to rest with his forehead on her right shoulder. This lack of resistance seemed to Hermione to be a testament to how much turmoil he was in. She brought her hand to the back to his head, her fingers revelling in the feel of his soft hair, and her heart aching.

* * *

Hermione never knew how long they remained that way, his head on her shoulder, their bodies treacherously close, but when she finally returned to the Gryffindor Tower, there was almost no one left in the Common Room and Lavender and Parvati were both asleep in their dormitory. What had finally made her leave her Professor had not been the cold, or her tiredness or his anger. He'd said "Go now." in a hushed, calm voice, followed by a gentle "Please." And she'd obeyed. Never in her whole school career had Snape ever said please to her before. She'd run her hand over his hair, given his shoulder a final squeeze and stepped away from him, instantly feeling more cold, and more tired and more … alone. They'd regarded one another in silence, his face softer than usual, but quite expressionless, before she'd offered him the smallest of smiles, and quietly exited the room.

* * *

**So here we go, another chapter! I am SO sorry it's been so long since I posted - I worked that fun but mental event I mentioned last chapter, then at my usual job they needed my to do full time hours for 10 days, plus extra time, then a day after that finished I was supposed to move back out of my parents house so I had mental packing and moving problems. But anyway I'm in my lil uni house now and here we are. I won't leave it as long between chapters again (at least I'll try very hard not to), but now I'm studying I won't have as much free time, so updates will be a bit less frequent than they used to be. **

**Still, this chapter is my longest so far (I think) and it's highly Snermione orientated so I hope that makes up for my absence a tiny bit :)**

**Also from now on, anyone who reviews as as guest (as in, without a logged in fanfic account) I'll respond individually on the next posted chapter. It's really bugged me that I haven't thanked anyone for taking the time. So if you've reviewed without an account before I'm so sorry I haven't responded but I will from now on, it would just take too long to go through all the previous ones and I'm a bit short on time. It would make it easier for me if you could leave some sort of a name rather than "guest" or "anon" just so I can leave a little note for you on the next chapter. That will make these end notes a bit longer but I really want to be able to respond in some way :)**

**Thanks for sticking with me.**

***Text in between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince - J.K Rowling**


	27. Chapter 27

Sometimes feelings are so … so intense, so overwhelming, so all consuming that it seems impossible to even begin to comprehend them.

Severus Snape scrubbed his hands over his face. This was one of those times….

* * *

*It was night-time, and Dumbledore sagged sideways in the throne like chair behind the desk, semiconscious. His right hand dangled over the side, blackened and burned. Severus muttered incantations, pointing his wand at the wrist of the hand, while with his left hand he tipped a goblet full of thick golden potion down Dumbledore's throat. His ears were ringing and he'd had to employ his Occlumency shields like armour to force himself to be calm. After a moment or two, Dumbledore's eyelids fluttered and opened.

"Why," he said, without preamble, "why did you put on that ring? It carries a curse, surely you realized that. Why even touch it?"

A ring lay on the desk before Dumbledore. It was cracked; the sword of Gryffindor lay beside it.

Dumbledore grimaced.

"I ... was a fool. Sorely tempted..."

"Tempted by what?"

He was angry now truly, utterly and terrifyingly angry.

Dumbledore did not answer.

"It is a miracle you managed to return here!" He snarled. "That ring carried a curse of extraordinary power, to contain it is all we can hope for; I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being -"

Dumbledore raised his blackened, useless hand, and examined it with the expression of one being shown an interesting curio.

"You have done very well, Severus. How long do you think I have?"

Dumbledore's tone was conversational; he might have been asking for a weather forecast.

He hesitated, and then said, "I cannot tell. Maybe a year. There is no halting such a spell forever. It will spread eventually, it is the sort of curse that strengthens over time."

Dumbledore smiled. The news that he had less than a year to live seemed a matter of little or no concern to him.

"I am fortunate, extremely fortunate, that I have you, Severus."

"If you had only summoned me a little earlier, I might have been able to do more, buy you more time!" he said, furious now at his own failure. He looked down at the broken ring and the sword. "Did you think that breaking the ring would break the curse?"

"Something like that ... I was delirious, no doubt..." said Dumbledore. With an effort he straightened himself in his chair. "Well, really, this makes matters much more straightforward."

Confusion momentarily overtook the anger. Dumbledore smiled.

"I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me. His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me."

Severus sat down across the desk from Dumbledore, terrified now, as well as angry.

Scowling, he said, "The Dark Lord does not expect Draco to succeed. This is merely punishment for Lucius's recent failures. Slow torture for Draco's parents, while they watch him fail and pay the price."

"In short, the boy has had a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have," said Dumbledore. "Now, I should have thought the natural successor to the job, once Draco fails, is yourself?"

There was a short pause in which his heart threatened to burst straight out of his chest.

"That, I think, is the Dark Lord's plan."

"Lord Voldemort foresees a moment in the near future when he will not need a spy at Hogwarts?"

"He believes the school will soon be in his grasp, yes."

"And if it does fall into his grasp," said Dumbledore, almost, it seemed, as an aside, "I have your word that you will do all in your power to protect the students at Hogwarts?"

He gave a stiff nod. Of course he would protect them, as much as he possibly could.

"Good. Now then. Your first priority will be to discover what Draco is up to. A frightened teenage boy is a danger to others as well as to himself. Offer him help and guidance, he ought to accept, he likes you - "

" - much less since his father has lost favour. Draco blames me; he thinks I have usurped Lucius's position."

"All the same, try. I am concerned less for myself than for accidental victims of whatever schemes might occur to the boy. Ultimately, of course, there is only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort's wrath."

"Are you intending to let him kill you?" He asked sardonically, disbelieving and hoping to God his suspicions were incorrect.

"Certainly not. You must kill me."*

* * *

The world had stopped at that moment, and so had the beat of his heart. Looking back he'd been almost too overwhelmed and too shielded by Occlumency to know the enormity of what had happened that night.

Dumbledore was dying.

And he'd agreed to kill him. Murder him.

Dumbledore was going to die at his hand.

His final steps into Darkness.

He'd be alone. Completely, truly alone.

There would be no one.

It was all these months later and the reality of the situation was still sinking in like a spear.

What would the Order do when their leader was killed by one of their own? How could the light possibly hope to win this war without Dumbledore?

The grief seemed to well up inside of him like a hot wave of agony, starting in the very depths of his stomach and rising up through him until his heart and his head and every part of him seemed to be burning. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes to try and stopper the wetness that was pouring out of them and scorching his face. Shameful tears. He should not cry.

But it was just … hell.

It felt almost as bad, almost as painful as when Lily had died, almost as hopeless, and that had nearly killed him. And Dumbledore wasn't even dead yet. He hadn't … killed Dumbledore yet. He was going to _kill_ Dumbledore. Oh, he knew it was for all the right reasons, but … somehow that didn't seem to make it feel any better.

The Order would hate him, hell, most of the Wizarding world would hate him. The only place he'd be able to shelter would be in amongst the enemy…

It was time to push all those feelings to the very back of his mind now though. He'd been letting his emotions affect his behaviour far too much. Especially around Granger. Granger. Damn her.

He'd been unable to stomach anything at the Welcoming feast at the start of term, knowing it would be Dumbledore's last. He'd felt Granger's heavy gaze on him the moment he'd entered with Potter, but not dared to look at her until he was quite sure she'd looked away…. And there she'd been, still the same bushy haired girl she'd always been but somehow … different. She looked a lot older. Normally Severus would consider maturity in students a blessed and rare thing but given the circumstances… He hoped she wasn't being forced to grow up too fast.

He'd run into her the next day and she'd looked up at him with those bloody huge eyes and congratulated him on getting the Defense post. She'd been the only one in the entire school who'd bothered. And she was a Gryffindor. And Potter's best friend. He'd had no idea how to respond.

He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face again.

And then her smile had faded and concern had overtaken her features.

"Are you hurt?"

He'd been hurt over the summer, the Dark Lord hadn't been thrilled that 2 of his followers had made the Unbreakable Vow without his consent, even if he did approve of the contents. His punishment had been … harsh. But now… He'd opened his mouth to say 'no' but then the pain of all that had happened, and all that was to come had come crashing down on him and pain, grief, dread had coursed through his veins leaving him reeling. He'd found he couldn't lie to her. He'd been very hurt… He still was. Granger had asked her questions, stepped towards him, and he'd stood there frozen, unable to do anything except try and control the dangerous emotions flowing through him, to fight the sudden urge to tell the girl … everything. Granger would hate him too afterwards. For some reason that thought made him feel physically sick.

She'd stood so close to him them, he'd almost felt the warmth of her body through his robes, and she'd reached a hand up to him, so slowly, and as he'd waited in utter shock, he'd noticed, for the first time, how beautiful her hair was, bushy yes, but gentle too, he'd seen the elegant arch of her eyebrows, the soft dusting of freckles on her nose, the hard line of her jaw, the golden flecks in those amber eyes. And he'd felt like someone had kicked him the stomach. Hard.

And then her fingertips had come into contact with the skin on his face. Her touch had felt like burning fire and the softest caress mixed into one. The reality of everything caught up with him and he'd run from her once again. Coward. But really, what else had there been to do? He'd pushed her whole existence behind his defences after that, and done his best to pretend she wasn't easily the most capable student in his class, and that she wasn't looking at him every time they were both in the Great Hall.

But then Katie Bell had been cursed. That was why it was so important for him to bury his feelings, and not just in Death Eater meetings; he hadn't been doing all he could to find out Draco's plans. And a student had nearly died because of it. There was only a little doubt in his mind that it had been Draco; it certainly seemed the desperate attempt of an arrogant, terrified boy. Guilt had been added to his turmoil. He'd been on patrol once again, wallowing in his own pity and hating himself for it, and there was Granger, sitting on a window seat, looking so grave and solemn it had felt like a quick stab in the ribs.

He'd tried to do the right thing and send her to bed, but she'd asked him about Katie Bell, and she'd looked … afraid. Truly afraid and it had been horrible to see that expression on her face. So they'd gone into a classroom to … talk. Severus had locked and warded that door behind him with a pounding, and treacherous heart. And then he'd reassured the girl, and felt a tiny pool of warmth inside for the first time in a very long time, when the scared look on her face had vanished at his words.

"You helped." She'd said, and he was sure he'd detected a touch of admiration in her voice.

"I know considerably more about the Dark Arts than Madam Pomfrey." He'd muttered, hating that it was the very worst of him that had saved the girl.

"Well that was certainly a good thing today."

Granger was so … so accepting. It left him reeling every time. And later, when he'd decided to test her, to send her away, as much as he didn't want to, and told her about his summer, she'd had a tiny crease between her brows, then she'd just looked at him with this expression of mingled sadness and … admiration. He was sure it had been admiration. He'd gone further, been more specific, and again she'd stayed with him. Again she'd just, accepted what she'd been told.

"You don't have a choice."

That wasn't strictly true and he'd told her so, but he certainly wasn't used to having people make excuses for him.

She'd walked calmly back into his line of sight and stepped towards him, with a look of staggering empathy of her face.

"Is that what's making you so, very sad Professor?" She'd asked.

And he'd had to tighten his grip on the desk he was settled on, to keep himself grounded as the room went momentarily fuzzy around him. To fight the overwhelming need inside of him to tell her what he had to do. So maybe he could just have one person, just one, who wouldn't turn on him. No one had ever, ever been able to read him like that. No one. Not Dumbledore, not the Dark Lord, not his own parents and not even … Lily.

He'd stood, in blind panic but the bloody girl had stepped closer to him once again. Closer, after everything she'd just learnt about him.

"Please don't run."

He'd sunk back onto the desk, still in shock at the ease with which Granger had picked up on what he was feeling. Defeated by a 16 … no, 17 year old girl.

He'd wanted to tell her. He'd wanted to tell her why he was sad so much his secret seemed to be trying to tear its way out of his throat.

He'd told her far too much anyway. He was so bloody weak. Was she his greatest weakness? Perhaps. Perhaps that buck toothed, bushy haired insufferable know-it-all had managed to become … what? Something … important to him. Something he cared about.

And then she'd stepped closer to him again and she'd been so, so close. And still, he hadn't protested, hadn't sent her away, he'd just … sat there. Feeling desperate, but what for he hadn't known. Then he'd felt her hand on his shoulder. He'd flinched initially. But she hadn't pulled away. He'd looked up at her, fully intending to do the right thing for once in his pathetic life, but the way she'd been looking at him … left him powerless. Defenceless. And he'd looked away again, all thoughts of sending her to bed disintegrating.

Then he'd felt her gentle fingers on the back of his head and an invisible hand had grabbed his stomach. He'd given way to the pressure of her fingers, feeling so weak in that moment that a little more weakness didn't seem to make much difference, and she'd brought his forehead to rest on her shoulder. It felt like one of the most intimate moments of his entire life. There he'd been, defeated in every way possible, and held together by a Gryffindor student he'd spent years bullying. Intimate and bizarre. He didn't think his heart had beat as it should the entire time they remained that way, and every time he felt the slightest warmth of her breath by his ear or the back of his neck, it seemed to implode. He chose not to think about why that might be.

He'd allowed himself far too much indulgence, but while he'd been in that position, his head on her shoulder, the back of it cradled by her left hand, her right on his shoulder, creating a sort of circle around him, he'd been surrounded by something that had smelt somewhere between flowery and earthy, something perhaps a little like honey, and the fragrance had smelt so wholly … good. It had smelt like goodness. So much so that he'd wondered that if something, Dark and unclean like him remained enveloped in that smell for long enough, then perhaps … perhaps some of that goodness would rub off on him, make his path a little less Dark.

It had been a stupid train of thoughts looking back, borne of guilt and regret and desperation. But he'd been waiting for her to come to her senses and pull away from him, and she hadn't. They'd stayed that way for a long time. Her stableness, and his rolling sorrow. When he'd finally pulled himself together, and asked her to leave, he'd done so nicely; unable to be cruel after her enormous, confounding act of kindness. Her many kindnesses. She'd run her hand over the back of his hair, that tiny gesture giving him such a huge boast of courage and strength, it had almost been embarrassing. He'd seen her reluctance to leave him in her face when she'd pulled away, and it had nearly made up for the cold that seemed to be seeping back into him. And then she'd given him one of her little smiles that sent a welcome ripple of warmth over him, before she left, calm and composed, shutting the door behind her.

Severus knew, deep down, that he couldn't push her away, couldn't ignore her; he'd tried enough times. But now he had to focus. Focus on Draco. Focus on gathering information and helping the Order as much as he could now, because it was going to be a hell of a lot harder … after. It was time to be strong, he'd allowed himself to be feeble for far too long. It was time to keep his emotions suppressed, because there was no point in feeling. Feelings were another enemy these days. Killing Dumbledore was going to require a lot of strength, and he may as well start now. So while there seemed little point in actively avoiding or ignoring Granger, he couldn't allow himself to spend any time with her either. Everything seemed to intensify when he was near her, and that was something that was dangerous, especially now…

* * *

Harry told Hermione and Ron everything about his lesson with Dumbledore one misty Monday morning, bringing her firmly back to the present for possibly the first time since her late night encounter with Snape.

*"Wow, scary thought, the boy You-Know-Who," said Ron quietly, as they took their places around one of the gnarled Snargaluff stumps that formed this terms project, and began pulling on their protective gloves. "But I still don't get why Dumbledore's showing you all this. I mean, it's really interesting and everything, but what's the point?"

"Dunno," said Harry, inserting a gum shield. "But he says it's all important and it'll help me survive."

"I think it's fascinating," she said earnestly. "It makes absolute sense to know as much about Voldemort as possible. How else will you find out his weaknesses?"*

* * *

She wasn't sure why she asked Ron to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with her, other than the fact that she was mildly attracted to him, he was good company, and it was inconceivable that the real person she wanted to ask could go with her. Ever.

Equally, she wasn't sure why it hurt so much to see him snogging Lavender. But it really did hurt. She sighed. Feelings were tricky.

To top it off, while Snape wasn't ignoring her, he was clearly pretending that nothing … unusual, had ever taken place between them. This was, of course, understandable given his precarious role as a double agent but all the same, it left her feeling as if she were flailing. He was never far from her mind, and she spent a great deal of time worrying about what the hideous thing he had to do was. And she worried about his wellbeing. With what little free time she did have, she'd taken to looking out of windows or looking down corridors to the dungeons to try and oversee when he was Summoned. That way at least she could be a little more aware of his physical state. It was nearly Christmas these days and while he didn't seem hurt, there was still a clear air of … sadness around him, clear to her at least, and it was awful to care about someone so much and not know what was wrong, or how to help.

* * *

Slughorn's party was certainly a spectacle. And while it had been immensely satisfying to see the look on Ron's face when he'd found out she was going with Cormac, all her date wanted to do was snog, and she certainly had no interest in that.

She'd just found a wonderful hiding place when she spotted Snape being pulled rather violently to the midst of conversation with Slughorn.

*"Stop skulking and come and join us, Severus!" hiccupped Slughorn happily.*

She blushed. Skulking Snape.

Suppressing a giggle she slipped further away to the edges of the party, and then to the bathrooms, not wanting her Professor to see her dishevelled and hiding.

She emerged some time later, feeling considerably more attractive and in no particular hurry to return to the party when Malfoy came storming past her, his pale face flushed. He shot her a dirty look but didn't slow down. Hermione frowned, thinking of Harry's suspicions and snuck back into the party in a very thoughtful frame of mind, darting behind a particularly long and loose gold hanging when she spotted McLaggen. She was just about to sigh in relief when she noticed that she wasn't alone in her hiding spot. Snape was there, and he looked angry. She didn't have time to decide if she was feeling more pleased to find herself in his company, or embarrassed given the circumstances when he surprised her by speaking first.

"Hiding, Miss Granger?" He said coldly.

Hermione felt a slight blush on her cheeks but met his heavy gaze evenly.

"Yes sir." She said calmly, deciding honestly may well be the best policy. Snape smirked. "I think I may have made a … a slight error in who I chose to accompany me to the party."

Her eyes fell on Cormac's tall figure wondering through the crowd.

Snape surprised her again by making no comment on her behaviour.

"How are you, sir?" She asked quietly. He looked at her again and she noticed how very dark the shadows under his eyes were. Her heart gave a little stutter.

"Well enough." He said, looking away again.

He'd actually answered her. Straight away. A feeling of unease settled in her stomach.

"Will you remain at Hogwarts over the holidays sir?"

"That is not my decision."

"Of course." She bit her lip. There was so much she wanted to ask him, so much she wanted to know, but Snape did not seem in any mood to talk to her, and they couldn't talk freely in any case.

"Please take care of yourself over Christmas sir." She said, not turning to leave until he looked back at her and gave a stiff nod.

She didn't want to leave him. What was it he had to do? Something was so obviously wrong. She hesitated by the edge of the hanging, drew in a deep breath, then turned back to Snape, stepped quickly towards him and brushed the backs of two of her fingers lightly against his cheek. Hermione got a faint impression of a little stubble against her fingers and Snape's startled face going slightly pink before she turned on her heel and walked straight out of the party and straight to bed, her heart beating painfully in her chest.

* * *

**So here's another chapter :) Thank you all so much for your support.**

***Text in between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince by J.K Rowling.**

* * *

**These are my responses to guest reviewers so feel free to skip these last bits in future if it doesn't apply to you.**

**Mundy - thank you so much for another lovely review, your support has been wonderful and I'm so pleased you liked the last chapter. Uni's going great thanks - it's so good to be back :)**

**Vaila - Thank you! I'm glad you approve of my Hermione - I didn't want her to be really innocent because, as you say, it will makes things a little easier for our Severus ;) You could probably tell from this chapter that he's going to try to be stronger with Hermione - it was just the pain of what is happening with Dumbledore that made him a lot less strong last chapter - I'll try not to rush things :) **

**Amr - Thank you so much :) I really liked writing it this way, because we all know what's happened to Snape, but Hermione doesn't, glad you think it works and her actions with Snape are appropriate for the story. You're reviews are read and very much appreciated ;)**

**Lulu - Firstly one my best friends is called Lulu. Secondly, thank you for your review, I'm so happy you think their relationship is plausible - that's something that is really important to me, I want it to seem as though it could have happened. :)**


	28. Chapter 28

Hermione quite enjoyed having a rather boring Christmas with her parents, she knew they'd loved having her back, and it had been nice to see them so happy. But really, her heart hadn't been there. Her heart was well and truly in the wizarding world, at Hogwarts. She'd spent such a lot of time thinking and worrying about Snape, that all in all it was a real relief to get back to her school and see him, even if it was only for him to glare at her as she headed down to see Hagrid.

It was lovely to see Harry again, and not nearly as painful to see Ron, or Ron and Lavender snogging, as it had been. Then Harry told her everything he'd overheard between Snape and Malfoy before Christmas. It certainly went a long way to explaining why Snape had appeared so angry.

The Unbreakable Vow.

She'd read all about it, and there really was no way out; if you broke it, you died. And for Snape to have made one with Malfoy's mother … it didn't seem likely he was lying, it would be too easy for Malfoy to write home to check… That meant Snape must surely have been telling the truth … and that meant he had to protect Malfoy or he'd … die. Why would he do something like that? What if he had to break the Vow for the Order? The whole thing was so dangerous…

Harry was staring at her.

* "Don't you think — ?"

"— he was pretending to offer help so that he could trick Malfoy into telling him what he's doing?"

"Well, yes," she said.

"Ron's dad and Lupin think so," Harry said grudgingly. "But this definitely proves Malfoy's planning something, you can't deny that."

"No, I can't," she answered slowly.

She stared across the room, lost in a fresh wave of worry about the precarious position of Professor Snape. "How's Lupin?"

"Not great," said Harry, and he told her all about Lupin's mission among the werewolves and the difficulties he was facing. "Have you heard of this Fenrir Greyback?"

"Yes, I have!" she said, momentarily startled back into the present. "And so have you, Harry!"

"When, History of Magic? You know full well I never listened ..."

"No, no, not History of Magic — Malfoy threatened Borgin with him!" said Hermione. "Back in Knockturn Alley, don't you remember? He told Borgin that Greyback was an old family friend and that he'd be checking up on Borgin's progress!"

Harry gaped at her. "I forgot! But this proves Malfoy's a Death Eater, how else could he be in contact with Greyback and telling him what to do?"

"It is pretty suspicious," she breathed. "Unless ..."

"Oh, come on," said Harry in exasperation, "you can't get round this one!"

"Well ... there is the possibility it was an empty threat."

"You're unbelievable, you are," said Harry, shaking his head. "We'll see who's right... You'll be eating your words, Hermione, just like the Ministry. Oh yeah, I had a row with Rufus Scrimgeour as well..."

And the rest of the evening passed amicably with both of them abusing the Minister of Magic, after all the Ministry had put Harry through the previous year, they had a great deal of nerve asking him for help now.* She almost forgot to think about her Professor for a few hours, but as soon as she was alone again, her thoughts became totally consumed by him. She trusted Snape, and that hadn't changed, but what on earth was he doing making Unbreakable Vows with Death Eater's wives? He was in so much danger already…. Could this have something to do with the terrible thing he had to do? Or could this be it? Something seriously didn't add up. With her thoughts going nowhere, Hermione eventually slipped into a very uneasy sleep.

* * *

Her energy over the next few days was half devoted to fretting about Snape and half devoted to pretending she was doing no such thing and everything was normal. Aside from the slight distraction of all Harry had learnt from Dumbledore in their latest lesson, and his strange homework of securing a memory from Slughorn that Dumbledore himself had been unable to retrieve, it was all she could think about. She couldn't look at Snape in class or in the Hall, terrified her face would give something away, to him as well as anyone else who might be looking.

Finally, on the fourth day of very little sleep and a twisting stomach, she hung back at the end of their Defence class, determined to just speak to Snape about it. When she was the only student left in the room, Snape looked up from his desk and regarded her with those deep obsidian eyes.

"Well, Miss Granger?"

Her heart did a back flip. This was the first time she'd been alone with him, or even properly looked at him, since Slughorn's party.

"Sir, I … well, I wanted to ask you something … something that … something that someone overheard." She'd already decided that bringing Harry's name into this wouldn't be a good idea.

He continued to stare at her, and even as the time elapsed between them, she found she couldn't gather her thoughts.

"I … well I – someone overheard you before Christmas … well, they said they overheard that you'd … that yo – you'd made the … the Unbreakable Vow … to protect Draco Malfoy."

She thought she saw a slight flash of fear on Snape's face but it was gone too quickly for her to be sure.

"Potter?" He asked slowly, his voice dangerously low.

She nodded, not wanting to lie to him, and knowing there was little point anyway. Snape pinched the bridge of his nose.

"And what did you wish to ask me?"

Her stomach turned over. He hadn't denied it. Half of her had just hoped this was something that Harry had interpreted dreadfully wrong.

"Well …" She paused, there were about a million questions she wanted to ask him, but she'd have to be careful; Snape hadn't sent her running yet but that didn't mean he wouldn't…

"Is it true?"

His gaze became heavier and she fought the impulse to start squirming.

"Who else did Potter tell?" He asked.

"Only myself and Ron, sir," she answered quickly, "and Professor Dumbledore I think."

A look of mingled anger and satisfaction flashed on Snape's tired and thin face.

"It's true." He answered simply.

She gaped at him for what felt like several minutes.

"It's true?" She repeated stupidly.

"Yes." Said Snape calmly. "And do you still trust me, Miss Granger, knowing as you do, that I've made an Unbreakable Vow to protect the child of a Death Eater?"

"Yes of course." She snapped, flashing him a glare for good measure. How many times was he going to test her? "But sir, if you break the Vow you'll … well you'll die," to her humiliation she felt tears prickle in her eyes and quickly blinked and looked away, "what if you have to break it for the Order or something, sir? This must surely make everything so much more … precarious?"

She looked back up at him and the intensity of his gaze made her blush. She'd moved closer to his desk at some point so she now stood directly before him.

"I will not betray the Order." Snape said slowly, a frown marring his face.

"But if it becomes a choice between breaking the Vow, or betraying the Order… Then … then betray them. Please!" Her voice had become a little shrill and tears threatened in her eyes once again. She was discussing Snape's death, how had this happened? And when had his life become more important to her than the Order? Nothing should be more important than that.

"I will _not _betray the Order." He repeated, fire in his eyes.

She turned away from him as she fought to get herself under control. Snape would die rather than betray the Order, that should be reassuring, but it made her feel … awful … terrified.

"Does this have something to do with the terrible thing you have to do?" She looked back at him in time to see his hands turn to fists convulsively.

"Your word, Miss Granger - "

"I won't say anything to anyone sir, I promise." She said quickly, feeling her heart rate increase.

"It … it has everything to do with … that." He said stiffly, looking endearingly awkward.

"And the … the thing … it's for Dumbledore?"

"Yes. But that is all I'm saying on the matter." He snapped.

So Snape had to do a terrible thing for Dumbledore that had everything to do with the Unbreakable Vow he'd made to protect Malfoy… Another question popped into her head at random.

"Sir, the Headmaster's hand - " Snape froze and she stared at him in confusion.

"Enough." He said roughly, cutting across her. "Enough, Miss Granger, I have suffered you presence for long enough. You are dismissed."

She stood frozen for a second, staring openly at Snape, his abrupt dismissal was not entirely unexpected, but it was strange that it came after such an innocuous question… And the look on Snape's face when he'd interrupted her … he'd appeared … panicked….

"Take care of yourself, sir." She said quietly as she left his classroom.

Hermione knew she should be feeling immeasurably relieved; Snape would not betray the Order, and it was all for Dumbledore; the terrible thing, and surely the Vow too if they were related… But instead she felt really quite uneasy. Snape would die if he broke the Vow. That was scary enough but there must be a high chance that protecting a Death Eater's child would come into conflict with staying loyal to the Order… 'I will not betray the Order.' Then he would die. But somehow this was all for Dumbledore. And Dumbledore's hand …. there was something important about that too. It was all so confusing.

She stared blankly at the Fat Lady's portrait for some time before she had the presence of mind to utter the password. She'd spoken to Snape, but now she was far more confused, and had far more questions than answers….

* * *

*The snow melted around the school as February arrived, to be replaced by cold, dreary wetness. Purplish-grey clouds hung low over the castle and a constant fall of chilly rain made the lawns slippery and muddy. The upshot of this was that the sixth-years' first Apparition lesson, which was scheduled for a Saturday morning so that no normal lessons would be missed, took place in the Great Hall instead of in the grounds.*

It was an interesting enough period, Harry snuck off to keep an eye on Malfoy and, although she would never admit it to him, she was quite pleased; he might inadvertently overhear something that was relevant to the whole Snape-Malfoy-Dumbledore situation.

By the end of the lesson she still hadn't managed to Disapparate, but she couldn't say she was surprised; her heart hadn't been in it at all. She'd spent most of the lesson trying to steal looks at Snape, as if she could find the answers to all her questions written on his face. She'd had to stop after he'd flashed her a particularly murderous glare though.

She dreaded the days when she didn't have Defence Against the Dark Arts, it was stupid really, childish, but when she could _see_ Snape, in lessons or even just in the Hall, however tired or stressed or weary he looked, she knew he was … well enough. Alive. And when she couldn't see him …. well … anything could have happened to him. He was in so much danger. Hermione kept wanting to see him, to talk to him, but she could think of no reason to, and the man himself didn't seem too keen on her at the minute, so the days slipped into weeks, and she took what comfort she could from just … looking at him.

* * *

Severus Snape had told Hermione Granger far too much.

She knew about the Unbreakable Vow, not the full extent of course, but all the same…

When the students had returned from the Christmas Holidays, it had honestly come as a relief, for the first time … perhaps ever. Over Christmas he'd had to attend many Death Eater meetings, which were becoming more and more hideous, and many Order meetings, which weren't going particularly well on any front. He was torn between one Master who was becoming increasingly frustrated by his lack of inside information, and one Master who was becoming increasingly frustrated by his lack of knowledge of Draco's plans. One used physical pain as a punishment, one used emotional pain. He had no idea which was worse.

And then Granger hadn't been looking at him. She literally hadn't looked at him for days. And he'd been angry and confused and hurt an angry and confused by his own reaction to it. But her behaviour had been because she'd found out about the Vow. Bloody fucking meddling Potter. But Granger still trusted him. And she worried about him and cared about him and if it ever came to it, she wanted him to betray the Order and save his life. When she'd said that, when she'd had tears in her eyes and said that … everything had just … burned. His chest, his face, his hands … everything. She hadn't even really realised what she'd said, what it meant, but that insufferable little girl had grown into a young woman who … who really valued his life. _His_ life. Slimy greasy ugly Severus Snape. If only she knew what she'd been asking. Granger would think he _had _betrayed the Order when he … killed Dumbledore. She didn't realise what she was asking and he couldn't tell her… He just couldn't.

* * *

Severus walked along the grounds with Dumbledore, the evening light making the scene all the more beautiful, but he couldn't appreciate the sight right now; this was no walk for pleasure, and both teacher and Headmaster knew it.

**"What are you doing with Potter, all these evenings you are closeted together?" He asked abruptly.

Dumbledore looked weary, it sent a shiver of unease down his spine.

"I spend time with Harry because I have things to discuss with him, information I must give him before it is too late."

"Information," Severus repeated, feeling an old pain stir in his heart. "You trust him ... you do not trust me."

"It is not a question of trust. I have, as we both know, limited time. It is essential that I give the boy enough information for him to do what he needs to do."

"And why may I not have the same information?"

"I prefer not to put all of my secrets in one basket, particularly not a basket that spends so much time dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort."

"Which I do on your orders!"

And there it was. He did as Dumbledore asked, but somehow it made him untrustworthy.

"And you do it extremely well. Do not think that I underestimate the constant danger in which you place yourself, Severus. To give Voldemort what appears to be valuable information while withholding the essentials is a job I would entrust to nobody but you."

"Yet you confide much more in a boy who is incapable of Occlumency, whose magic is mediocre, and who has a direct connection into the Dark Lord's mind!"

"Voldemort fears that connection," said Dumbledore. "Not so long ago he had one small taste of what truly sharing Harry's mind means to him. It was pain such as he has never experienced. He will not try to possess Harry again, I am sure of it. Not in that way."

"I don't understand."

"Lord Voldemort's soul, maimed as it is, cannot bear close contact with a soul like Harry's. Like a tongue on frozen steel, like flesh in flame - "

"Souls? We were talking of minds!"

"In the case of Harry and Lord Voldemort, to speak of one is to speak of the other."

That sounded incredibly ominous.

Dumbledore glanced around to make sure that they were alone. They were close by the Forbidden Forest now, but there was no sign of anyone near them.

"After you have killed me, Severus - "

"You refuse to tell me everything, yet you expect that small service of me!" He snarled, and real pain, real anger flared through him. "You take a great deal for granted, Dumbledore! Perhaps I have changed my mind!"

"You gave me your word, Severus. And while we are talking about services you owe me, I thought you agreed to keep a close eye on our young Slytherin friend?"

Dumbledore sighed.

"Come to my office tonight, Severus, at eleven, and you shall not complain that I have no confidence in you..."**

And off Dumbledore went, off in a swish of ludicrously coloured robes. Well, at least he'd tried, for some reason standing up to the Headmaster wasn't easy. He didn't like Dumbledore much at all, but he didn't want him to die, he didn't want to kill him. But he had to now. Of all the many reasons he didn't want to kill Dumbledore, he hadn't expected the thought of Granger's trust in him finally failing, to be the one that haunted him, kept him up in the night. He knew Draco wouldn't be able to kill Dumbledore, and he'd sworn to fulfil the task if Draco failed. So it became a question of Dumbledore's life, or his own. But Dumbledore's life held a lot more value than his, even if the old man was dying. He sighed and headed slowly back to the castle, wondering what on earth he was going to learn from Dumbledore now…

* * *

He found himself seated at the Headmaster's desk at just gone 11pm. Dumbledore himself was … restless. His obvious unease created a knot of worry in Severus' stomach. He sat very still, his mind blank and calm, his shields ready.

**"Now listen closely, Severus. There will come a time - after my death - do not argue, do not interrupt! There will come a time when Lord Voldemort will seem to fear for the life of his snake."

"For Nagini?" Severus repeated, astonished.

"Precisely. If there comes a time when Lord Voldemort stops sending that snake forth to do his bidding, but keeps it safe beside him under magical protection, then, I think, it will be safe to tell Harry."

"Tell him what?"

Dumbledore took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Severus braced himself.

"Tell him that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him, when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield, the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort, and a fragment of Voldemort's soul was blasted apart from the whole, and latched itself onto the only living soul left in that collapsed building. Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry, and it is that which gives him the power of speech with snakes, and a connection with Lord Voldemort's mind that he has never understood. And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die."

"So the boy ... the boy must die?" he asked, his calm voice entirely at odds with the absolute turmoil inside.

"And Voldemort himself must do it, Severus. That is essential."

There was a long silence as Severus tried to process this information through the pounding in his ears. When he spoke, his voice seemed to be coming from a long way away. "I thought ... all those years ... that we were protecting him for her. For Lily."

Betrayal. Disbelief. Shock. That was what the pounding was. Pain.

"We have protected him because it has been essential to teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength," said Dumbledore, his eyes still tight shut. "Meanwhile, the connection between them grows ever stronger, a parasitic growth. Sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him, he will have arranged matters so that when he does set out to meet his death, it will truly mean the end of Voldemort."

Dumbledore opened his eyes and all Severus could do was stare at him in horror.

"You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?"

"Don't be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?"

"Lately, only those whom I could not save," he said, another anger firing up inside him. He stood up. "You have used me."

"Meaning?"

"I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter's son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter - "

"But this is touching, Severus," said Dumbledore seriously. "Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?"

"For him?" he shouted, and, not stopping to think, "Expecto Patronum!"

From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe. She landed on the office floor, bounded once across the office, and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to him, and his blue eyes were full of tears.

"After all this time?"

"Always," he said** and then all but ran from the office.

How could this have happened? How? Dumbledore … he was supposed to be … good. And now Potter had to die. There was certainly no love between them but …. he was Lily's. His whole life since that terrible night had been about keeping Potter safe … for Lily. And now….

Lily's son had to die.

He slammed his office door behind him and slumped into a chair, his hands covering his face.

His whole life… everything he'd done … and the boy was going to die. The boy _had_ to die.

Miss Granger … her best friend.

Another pain stabbed in his chest. His doe.

"Expecto Patronum."

There she was, his doe. His loyal doe.

But…

She was different.

Only slightly.

But…

She was less … elegant.

Her eyes were more … understanding … more … intelligent.

Why?

His doe was a representation of Lily. Unrequited love. Lily.

So why … why was his doe … different?

* * *

Ron had been poisoned. Ron had almost … almost died. Ron had almost died and she'd been – really, really rude to him. A lot. And he'd almost died.

*"... and then I got the bezoar down his throat and his breathing eased up a bit, Slughorn ran for help, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they brought Ron up here. They reckon he'll be all right. Madam Pomfrey says he'll have to stay here a week or so ... keep taking essence of rue …"

"Blimey, it was lucky you thought of a bezoar," said George in a low voice.

"Lucky there was one in the room," said Harry.*

Hermione's whole body turned cold. Ron had come so close to dying, and she hadn't been speaking to him. All because he'd been snogging someone else. She hadn't even really cared that much after a while, it wasn't as if she really felt that way about Ron, it had become just about the principle. And he'd almost died. And they hadn't made up. And it was all because of her bloody pride.

She found she kept tuning in and out of the conversation, torn between the real world and the happenings in her head.

*"Someone couldn' have a grudge against the Gryffindor Quidditch team, could they?" said Hagrid anxiously. "Firs' Katie, now Ron ..."

"I can't see anyone trying to bump off a Quidditch team," said George.

"Wood might've done the Slytherins if he could've got away with it," said Fred fairly.

"Well, I don't think it's Quidditch, but I think there's a connection between the attacks," she said quietly, ready to voice one of the many dark thoughts that had been plaguing her.

"How d'you work that out?" asked Fred.

"Well, for one thing, they both ought to have been fatal and weren't, although that was pure luck. And for another, neither the poison nor the necklace seems to have reached the person who was supposed to be killed. Of course," she added broodingly, "that makes the person behind this even more dangerous in a way, because they don't seem to care how many people they finish off before they actually reach their victim."*

She knew she was right, it was someone clumsy, inexperienced and incredibly reckless and unfeeling.

Then Mr and Mrs Weasley arrived, and she, Harry and Hagrid took their leave.

Hagrid was talking.

*"I mean, it's always bin a bit of a risk sendin a kid ter Hogwarts, hasn' it? Yer expect accidents, don' yeh, with hundreds of underage wizards all locked up tergether, but attempted murder, tha's diiff'rent. 'S'no wonder Dumbledore's angry with Sn —"

Hagrid stopped in his tracks, a familiar, guilty expression on what was visible of his face above his tangled black beard.

"What?" said Harry quickly. "Dumbledore's angry with Snape?"

"I never said tha'," said Hagrid, though his look of panic could not have been a bigger giveaway. "Look at the time, it's gettin' on fer midnight, I need ter —"

"Hagrid, why is Dumbledore angry with Snape?" Harry asked loudly.

Hermione's stomach tightened.

"Shhhh!" said Hagrid, looking both nervous and angry. "Don' shout stuff like that, Harry, d'yeh wan' me ter lose me job? Mind, I don' suppose yeh'd care, would yeh, not now yeh've given up Care of Mag—"

"Don't try and make me feel guilty, it won't work!" said Harry forcefully. "What's Snape done?"

"I dunno, Harry, I shouldn'ta heard it at all! I — well, I was comin' outta the forest the other evenin' an' I overheard 'em talking— well, arguin'. Didn't like ter draw attention to meself, so I sorta skulked an tried not ter listen, but it was a — well, a heated discussion an' it wasn' easy ter block it out."

"Well?" Harry urged him, as Hagrid shuffled his enormous feet uneasily.

"Well — I jus' heard Snape sayin' Dumbledore took too much fer granted an maybe he — Snape — didn' wan' ter do it any more —"

Oh God.

The terrible thing.

Snape had told Dumbledore he didn't want to do it.

That _had _to be what they were talking about.

"Do what?"

"I dunno, Harry, it sounded like Snape was feelin' a bit overworked, tha's all — anyway, Dumbledore told him flat out he'd agreed ter do it an' that was all there was to it. Pretty firm with him. An' then he said summat abou' Snape makin' investigations in his House, in Slytherin. Well, there's nothin' strange abou' that!" Hagrid added hastily. "All the Heads o' Houses were asked ter look inter that necklace business —"

"Yeah, but Dumbledore's not having rows with the rest of them, is he?" said Harry.

"Look," Hagrid twisted his crossbow uncomfortably in his hands; there was a loud splintering sound and it snapped in two. "I know what yeh're like abou' Snape, Harry, an' I don' want yeh ter go readin' more inter this than there is."*

Hermione didn't know about Harry, but she was certainly reading a lot into this, whether it was more than what was logical, she didn't know. Snape had told Dumbledore he didn't want to do 'it' anymore. But Dumbledore had said he'd agreed to do 'it', and so he had to. What in God's name was 'it'? She felt a flare of hot, fierce anger at the Headmaster. He was making Snape do something he didn't want to do, something awful, and he wasn't giving him a choice.

'I have no choice.'

That's what he'd said to her, all those weeks ago, and it seemed he'd been right. He had no choice.

She went to her bed at the first opportunity and lay in the dark, her head spinning with thoughts of cursed necklaces, poisoned mead, Ron lying in the Hospital Wing, her own cursed pride, an unseen assailant within Hogwarts, and poor, poor Snape, with his sadness and his dread and his dangerous life.

* * *

**Here we go :) I know there's quite a lot straight from the books in this chapter and I'm sorry to those who don't like it when I do that but, as you are probably aware by now, that's just how I role. **

**I'm afraid I may have to slightly decrease the frequency with which I post chapters - I have a lot of work this year and I'm struggling to keep up with it all and have a chapter written by the end of the week. I think I'll either start making it an every other week thing or just post as I'm finished, which would probably we a round the 10 day mark, but perhaps a little later. If anyone had any strong preferences let me know :) I wish I could keep it up this pace but I don't think I'll be able too, I'm sorry :/**

***Text between one asterisk* from Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince - J.K Rowling**

****Text between two asterisks** from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - J.K Rowling.**

* * *

**mundy - I'm glad you think it works, although I think of him as being 'human' rather than 'a bit weak and emotional' ;) totally get what you mean though! Thanks for your review x**

**vaila - Pleased you think explaining Severus' feelings sheds light on his actions :) I'll try to find a compromise between slow and gradual and the raw intensity between them as much as I can - although Hermione is 17 now and of age in the wizarding world so things will start to step up a bit, even if a relationship between them is going to be very hard with the circumstances their in. I'll do the best that I can with updates I promise ;) Thanks for reviewing x**


	29. Chapter 29

The upside to Ron getting poisoned was that it had completely repaired their friendship. The downside was that she kept suddenly panicking about someone dying. It didn't help that many of the students in Hogwarts now had missing or dead relatives. And there was Snape. Every time she saw him now she kept thinking of Dumbledore forcing him to do something terrible and it make her throat hurt.

There was a disastrous Quidditch match which resulted in Harry taking a bludger to the head, Ron was released from the hospital wing, Harry had another meeting with Dumbledore, and the weeks slipped by. She wanted to speak to Snape, speak to him openly, but she just didn't know where to start. It didn't help that she'd started to get the odd impression that the man himself was looking at her far more than normal. She wasn't sure, it may well have been her own paranoia, but she kept feeling as if his eyes were on her, but when she'd look at him, he was usually looking elsewhere. And on the very few occasions where he _had _been looking at her, his eyes would dart away from hers. Come to think of it, he hadn't been looking her in the eye properly for … a while. At least a couple of weeks. Why?

* * *

So it turned out Malfoy was spending copious amount of time in the Room of Requirement with Polyjuiced Crabbe and Goyle standing guard. For some reason she didn't find this new information all that interesting. What did worry her though was whether or not she should speak to Snape about it. Harry had set two house elves to trail Malfoy, and because of that they'd discovered where he kept disappearing to, and Snape had Vowed to protect Malfoy. She didn't know exactly how Unbreakable Vows worked, but it seemed logical that Harry keeping such a close eye on Malfoy put him, or his plans, in danger, and that in turn might put Snape in danger. Hermione wasn't entirely sure how accurate her conclusion was, it seemed a little flimsy, but surely she should tell Snape about it, just to be safe … only … only it seemed like such a betrayal to Harry. She lay on her bed staring at the ceiling. If the opportunity presented itself, she would tell Snape. His life being at risk was surely more important.

She took no interest in Harry's plans to try and break into the Room of Requirement the following morning , which clearly irritated him.

*"Look," he said quietly, leaning forward and putting a hand on the Daily Prophet, which she had just removed from a post owl. "I haven't forgotten about Slughorn, but I haven't got a clue how to get that memory off him, and until I get a brain wave why shouldn't I find out what Malfoy's doing?"

"I've already told you, you need to persuade Slughorn," she said. "It's not a question of tricking him or bewitching him, or Dumbledore could have done it in a second. Instead of messing around outside the Room of Requirement" — she jerked the Prophet out from under Harry's hand and unfolded it to look at the front page — "you should go and find Slughorn and start appealing to his better nature."

"Anyone we know — ?" asked Ron, as she scanned the headlines.

"Yes!" Hermione said, causing both Harry and Ron to gag on their breakfast. "But it's all right, he's not dead — its Mundungus, he's been arrested and sent to Azkaban! Something to do with impersonating an Inferius during an attempted burglary, and someone called Octavius Pepper has vanished. Oh, and how horrible, a nine-year-old boy has been arrested for trying to kill his grandparents, they think he was under the Imperius Curse."*

They finished their breakfasts in silence. The Imperius Curse. Snape's speciality. But he'd been at Hogwarts, hadn't he? The Potions Master was becoming such a large part of the focus of her mind it was almost irritating.

* * *

Another thing that almost irritated her, was Snape's sense of humour, his sharp tongue. If it wasn't so cruel, unprofessional and nearly always directed at her best friends, it would be, almost funny.

*"Oh, very good," said Snape, his lip curling. "Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. 'Ghosts are transparent."'

Pansy Parkinson let out a high-pitched giggle.

"Yeah, ghosts are transparent, but Inferi are dead bodies, aren't they? So they'd be solid —"

"A five-year-old could have told us as much," sneered Snape. "The Inferius is a corpse that has been reanimated by a Dark wizard's spells. It is not alive, it is merely used like a puppet to do the wizard's bidding. A ghost, as I trust that you are all aware by now, is the imprint of a departed soul left upon the earth, and of course, as Potter so wisely tells us, transparent. "

"Well, what Harry said is the most useful if we're trying to tell them apart!" said Ron. "When we come face-to-face with one down a dark alley, we're going to be having a look to see if its solid, aren't we, we're not going to be asking, 'Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?'" There was a ripple of laughter, instantly quelled by the look Snape gave the class.

"Another ten points from Gryffindor," said Snape. "I would expect nothing more sophisticated from you, Ronald Weasley, the boy so solid he cannot Apparate half an inch across a room."*

Ron was very quite after that; Snape really knew how to hit a nerve. Lavender caught up with Harry and Ron when the lesson finished so Hermione decided to use the opportunity to double back and speak to her Professor. She knocked, waited for the usual "Enter," then slipped inside, shutting the door quietly behind her. Snape didn't look up from his desk.

"Sir, I need to speak to you." She said quietly, her voice amplified around the deserted classroom.

Still Snape didn't look up.

"It's about Draco Malfoy."

That certainly got his attention. His head snapped up and his lips tightened.

"Well?" He asked slowly, his calm and impassive voice a little at odds with the alertness of his eyes.

Hermione took a deep breath.

"He's spending a lot of time doing something in the Room of Requirement, sir, well, I take it you already know that, but I just thought I should tell you, and that he's being … being watched sir."

Snape starred at her, his brows furrowed and his face somewhere between angry and confused.

A silence settled between them.

His frown increased.

"So you wish me to give Draco a warning?" He asked.

"If you think it's necessary."

"And why would you ask me to do such a thing, Miss Granger? You hate Draco - " Hermione shuffled uncomfortably but did not contradict Snape " – so why do you seek to protect him?"

She stared at Snape in utter disbelief.

"It's not about _him, _I'm trying to protect _you."_

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

"I just thought, well since you have to … protect Malfoy, well I thought it might put you at risk. I don't completely understand Unbreakable Vows sir, but if this puts Malfoy in danger, then it must put you in danger as well?"

He didn't answer and a heavy silence settled between them.

"You are dismissed." Said Snape a while later, his voice low and his gaze averted. For a moment, she stood stock still, staring at him. "_Get out."_ He snapped suddenly, his eyes suddenly wild and boring into hers.

She sighed and headed to the door, ignoring the sting of his abrupt dismissal. She'd warned him, she'd done the right thing, she was sure of it.

Hermione stopped with her hand on the door, Snape and Dumbledore's argument at the forefront of her mind. Slowly, she turned back towards him. He was staring at her, but said nothing. She walked slowly back to him, almost as if she was worried about startling him, and stopped right in front of his desk.

She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. This was something strictly out of bounds. It was something immensely private that she should _not _know about. After all this time, it seemed she was still a little frightened of him. Perhaps it didn't help that they were in a setting where he was very much the teacher, and she was very much the student. They were still staring at one another.

"What is it, Miss Granger?" Snape said in a bored voice.

"I…"

"Speak you insufferable girl!"

She took a huge breath in and broke eye contact, choosing to look instead at her Professor's desk, and all their essays stacked neatly in a pile.

"Someone overheard something sir, something they shouldn't have." She chanced a quick look back at Snape's face; it was impassive still, but the lines around the corners of his eyes had tightened. "They heard you and Dumbledore … talking … arguing. You said you didn't want to do something anymore, and Dumbledore said you'd agreed to do it, and so you had to. And something about investigating Slytherin."

"Potter?" He asked dangerously.

"No sir."

"Then who?"

This was what she'd been afraid of; she knew Hagrid would get in so much trouble….

"I can't say, sir." She answered, the slight waver in her voice the only indicator of her fear.

"You mean you won't say?"

She nodded.

It happened very fast. One second Snape was sitting at his desk, his eyes burning her face even though she wasn't looking at him, the next he was standing, his left hand closed hard around the base of her jaw and his right hand pointed his wand between her eyes.

Hermione looked into those obsidian eyes that she'd started to find so very beautiful, but found they were hard, cold and frightening. She knew what was coming, but she didn't try to look away or shut her eyes, instead she put her hand around his and relaxed into his grip. He looked surprised.

"Please don't." She whispered, her breath coming out hard, still not breaking eye contact, still trusting him, and slowly, ever so slowly, those black, endless tunnels began to soften, and so did his grip.

He released her, his expression one of mingled confusion and pain, and then he turned away from her bodily, facing the back of his classroom, his hands limp by his sides.

"It wasn't someone who will tell anyone else sir," she said slowly, "and it was completely out of context, it wouldn't make any sense anyway."

Snape said nothing, but as she moved closer to him, she could see the taut lines of his back and the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders.

"Sir, you were talking about … about this terrible thing you have to do for Dumbledore, weren't you?"

Still, he said nothing.

"You said you didn't want to do it, but he's, he's making you, isn't he?"

Snape's hands turned to fists.

"Will you tell me what it is?" She asked timidly, mentally crossing her finger and toes and the silence stretched…

He shook his head.

"Does anyone else know what it is?"

Again, he shook his head.

"But there must be something I can do help?"

Still Snape remained silent with his back to her. She'd been moving steadily closer to him, and now stood inches away from his back.

"Please sir," she continued in desperation, "please tell me … something? I'm so worried about you."

Some sort of convulsive movement went through him at that point; his shoulders drooped, his knees bent and his hands shook. But it stopped before she could even be sure what had happened.

Hermione reached a hand out, and gently laid it on his back. For the second time in only a few minutes, it all happened very fast. Snape whirled around, away from her touch, his face a picture of rage and fear that tore at her heart.

"GET OUT MISS GRANGER!" He yelled, his whole demeanour frantic.

She stood stock still, too shocked by this abrupt change in mood to even think clearly.

"I MEAN IT!" Snape screamed "GET OUT! _OUT!_"

His robes were somehow billowing out behind him, his sallow skin was flushed, his teeth bared and there was a palpable air of uncontrolled magic around him. It made her hair stand up on the back of her neck…

And she just ran.

* * *

Later, when she was calmer, less shocked, and had had time to process the whole encounter, she thought she understood. The knowledge of what he had to do was obviously causing Snape pain. Pain that no one else knew of, or understood, because no one knew what it was he had to do. Snape was human. He wanted someone else to know, and she'd gotten close, but he couldn't tell anyone and that made him angry. Pain and anger. That was what had happened. Hermione understood about some of the rage that came with something powerful, so she knew not to take the way Snape had shouted at her personally. Of course, that didn't mean that she didn't find it a little intimidating being in his presence for a few days. And it didn't help that he'd had his hand pretty much around her neck, even if he hadn't forcibly used Legilimency. But she understood and she wasn't angry. She just wished she could help him.

* * *

The following weekend, Hermione, Ron and the other sixth years went to Hogsmeade to practice their apparition. She was pleased to say she'd made huge improvement since her first lesson and felt almost ready for the test. It had felt quite good to be focusing on something other than Snape, and really, with the risk of splinching yourself if you didn't properly concentrate, he'd barely been on her mind all morning.

*"Goes back to what I said, doesn't it?" said Ron, who was now shovelling mashed potato into his mouth. "Tonk's gone a bit funny. Lost her nerve. Women," he said wisely to Harry, "they're easily upset."

"And yet," she said, coming indignantly out of her reverie, "I doubt you'd find a woman who sulked for half an hour because Madam Rosmerta didn't laugh at their joke about the hag, the Healer, and the Mimbulus mimbletonia."

Ron scowled.*

* * *

Time seemed to be flying, already the first signs of summer were appearing, her apparition test was that very afternoon, and still she hadn't spoken to Snape since their last, unusual conversation.

*Dear Harry, Ron and Hermione,

Aragog died last night. Harry and Ron, you met him and you know how special he was.  
Hermione, I know you'd have liked him.  
It would mean a lot to me if you'd nip down for the burial later this evening.  
I'm planning on doing it round dusk, that was his favourite time of day.  
I know you're not supposed to be out that late, but you can use the cloak.  
Wouldn't ask, but I can't face it alone.

Hagrid*

They decided not to go. Hagrid was a dear friend but they'd risked far too much for him over the years. Then Ron had the sudden brain wave that Harry should use the Felix Felicis to get the memory from Slughorn. That was what Ron was good at; seeing the solution others overlooked.

* * *

She passed her test, Ron missed out by half an eyebrow, then after dinner it was time for Harry to try his Lucky potion…. And he went marching straight off to Hagrid's…. She hoped to Gods that it was the potion taking effect, but, too nervous to let something this important go to chance, she snuck away from Ron and Lavender's row, out through the portrait hole, and cast her Disillusionment charm when she was alone, running hurriedly towards the entrance hall, hoping to catch up with Harry. Luckily the front door was unlocked, she snuck through, it wasn't easy trying to track an invisible person, but she caught a glimpse of something she was sure was Harry's shoe heading towards the vegetable patch of all places. And there was Slughorn. She breathed a huge sigh of relief.

*Harry pulled off the cloak with a flourish.

"Good evening, Professor."

"Merlin's beard, Harry, you made me jump," said Slughorn, stopping dead in his tracks and looking wary. "How did you get out of the castle?"

"I think Filch must've forgotten to lock the doors," said Harry cheerfully.

"I'll be reporting that man, he's more concerned about litter than proper security if you ask me... But why are you out then, Harry?"

"Well, sir, it's Hagrid," said Harry. "He's pretty upset… But you won't tell anyone, Professor? I don't want trouble for him…"*

Slughorn immediately looked interested and Hermione smiled to herself, it seemed the potion was working.

She was on her way back to the castle when she caught sight of the Potions Master in the distance, heading towards the school gates, his black figure and prowl immediately recognisable even as the light faded. Her heart jumped. He must have been Summoned. Hermione ran back upstairs to her dorm, drew the curtains around her bed, grabbed her cloak and a book and ran to the gates, bracing herself for a long night of waiting for his return.

* * *

It was quite a cold night, and the castle grounds seemed very dark. Perhaps it was the knowledge that there were so many bad things happening around her, or perhaps it was because she was so very worried about her Professor, but Hermione found herself incredibly jumpy. The wind rustled the leaves on the trees around her and a chill went up her spine. She had a bad feeling about tonight. A very bad feeling.

After an hour she shrunk her book and put in a pocket; she couldn't concentrate enough to read. Instead she let her mind wander, and her thoughts became consumed with what Snape was doing. She sighed. Was her whole life going to spent worrying about a man who only barely tolerated her company? Or would it be just until the war was over? That was a strange thought. What would happen after the war? Would there be an after for her? For Snape? Harry had to kill Voldemort. He _had _to. Or Voldemort would kill him. Is that what was going to happen? Would they lose? She sighed again. They couldn't lose. They just couldn't.

* * *

She heard the telltale crack of apparition at about 2 in the morning and leapt up, still Disillusioned.

Something was wrong.

Snape staggered through the gates, shoving his mask into a pocket, and pulled them shut behind him, gripping onto the iron bars with both hands and resting his head against them. She walked cautiously towards him. As she got closer, Hermione could see his body was twitching and jerking, he made a low noise of pain in the back of his throat that made her heart twinge. She took another hesitant step forward.

Snape released his white-knuckle grip in the gates and whirled around.

"YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE!" He snarled, and the force of his anger made her take an automatic step back.

He looked momentarily surprised by his own outburst, then his whole body seemed to slump, and he fell back onto the gates, his hands griping the bars once again.

Hermione took another step forward, alarmed by his anger and the level of pain he seemed to be in.

"You're hurt." She said quietly, her voice wavering and she took in his appearance more closely. His face was slick with sweat, his hair stuck around his face, his skin almost grey and his jaw clenched tightly shut.

"I'll survive." He said bitterly, and his voice sounded … damaged, as if he'd been screaming… She quickly shut of that train of thought.

She cancelled her Disillusionment charm, just to have something to occupy herself with, she'd read so much about Healing, and Snape had been right, aside from making the person comfortable, the effects of the Cruciartus curse simply had to be … endured. It made her agitated.

Snape stared into her face, his look searching, before he looked away again.

"Have you forgotten how to cast Aguamenti, Miss Granger?" He asked dryly, and she jumped to give him a glass of water, spilling some over herself in the process. Snape smirked. Well, she assumed he would have done, but in his current state it looked more like a grimace. His hand shook as he lifted the glass to his thin lips, and as he pulled it away, a drop of water ran down his chin. She found herself mesmerised.

"Go to bed, Granger." Snape snapped a little while later, and then started to walk forwards.

One.

Two.

Three.

He swayed dangerously on the spot, his right arm flailing, and she darted forwards, grabbing his left hand in her own. His fingers clamped around hers as he seemed to fall sideways, his eyes tight shut and his expression twisted. Instinctively she put her right hand on his arm, pulling him towards her, but then it seemed she overcompensated, because he began to fall into her, one of her feet moved sideways to balance her, and Snape seemed to stumble… But she took his weight as his body swayed into hers, her left hand moving across to grab his right arm, and slowly, he found his balance again.

Snape opened his eyes and looked down at her.

He was scared.

"It's okay," she said breathlessly, "slowly."

He nodded.

Hermione moved her left hand back to his left arm, deliberately allowing it to come to rest over the top of his Dark mark. She wasn't really sure why.

They started walking slowly towards the castle. She still couldn't seem to catch her breath. And then…

Reality suddenly hit her around the face like a brick being swung in a sock.

Her heart hammered in her chest….

Oh.

Oh….

This was so much more than just a crush.

_So _much more.

She'd had a crush on Victor, and even a bit of one on Ron, on and off over the years.

But this was…

More.

So much more.

This was huge and deep and consuming and…

His.

It was just…

_His._

Hermione turned to look at him and found they'd stopped walking. By the look of Snape's exhausted face, it had been her that had stopped this time.

"Are you well, Miss Granger?" He asked impatiently.

"Better than you are." She answered thoughtlessly, her mind still predominantly elsewhere.

To her surprise, Snape let out an amused huff of air, then winced.

_His._

They started walking again, but halfway along the path, Snape turned and began walking down a slope, his grip on her hand increasing as he did so.

When they reached the bottom, Snape's face was flushed, his jaw tightened in pain. Hesitantly she pulled on his hand, then reluctantly released it, and made to sit down. With a glare, he grudgingly followed her lead.

And then they were sat on a grassy slope together, in the middle of the night. Hermione felt herself blush.

Snape's back seemed to arch suddenly, a shudder running through him and an involuntarily sound, somewhere between a grunt and a whimper, escaped from his mouth.

Hermione moved closer to him, resting her shoulder against his, she wasn't sure whether it was for comfort or just to annoy him enough to distract him.

When his pain had eased a little, he breathed out raggedly, looking at her once again with an expression that reminded her painfully of a fearful child. Reflexively, she reached out a hand to him, slowly placing her fingers on his right cheek, feeling a day's worth of stubble on her fingertips and melting a little inside. He broke eye contact, and bowed his head slightly, but didn't pull away from her.

And once again, time seemed to stretch and distort, to her at least, she desperately didn't want to pull away from him, but she knew he needed to get inside, get some rest… And she didn't know how to proceed anyway, not with … anything. He was her _teacher _they were at w_ar _the whole thing was so _unlikely_… But … she knew she was … closer? to him, in many ways than most other people, certainly most other students, if not _all_ other students. And that was the essence of hope. That was what hope did, it grabbed onto any little thing and held on for dear life. That was what made it so powerful, so beautiful and so strong.

She sighed. Snape's head was very, very close to hers. A familiar urge crept over her … NO.

She let her fingers stroke down Snape's cheek until they reached his jaw line, and then she pulled away. It hurt her to do so.

Snape looked back up at her uncertainly and she smiled gently at him, relishing being able to take in his face, his beautiful, sallow face with his sunken cheeks and hooked nose and oily hair.

_His._

Together they stood, and she took his hand once more, their fingers entwining together, and Snape led them towards the side of the castle. She knew she should be confused, or curious, or something, but she was far too busy relishing in their closeness, and the pain in her chest that she realised was a pain she only had for him.

Her professor performed some sort of complicated wand movement and a door revealed itself in the wall of the castle. Inside was a dimly lit passage of descending stone steps, just about wide enough for two.

As they walked down together, she realised they must be heading into the dungeons themselves.

"What happened, sir?" She asked suddenly.

Snape gave her a scathing look.

"I was punished." He answered dryly.

Hermione sighed.

"Why?"

He shook his head.

They were at another wall, which turned into another door at Snape's spell.

And then they were in the corridor that led to the Potions classroom. She shook off the momentary disorientation, and quickly Disillusioned herself once more. Snape sent her a very rare look of approval and she felt herself blush, immediately thankful for her camouflage.

She cancelled it again once they were in Snape's office. He roughly jerked his hand from hers, turned, and walked towards the door that led to his quarters. Hermione hesitated, then followed him, but he stopped abruptly and turned towards her when he reached the door, she noticed a little too late, and ended up stopping very close to him. She didn't pull away.

Snape was frowning.

Then something sort of … happened.

She tilted her head backwards slightly, so she could see his face better, but somehow she lost her balance slightly, and put her hands out to stop herself pitching forwards … and they came to rest on Snape's upper arms.

"You're not coming in." He said roughly, his eyes boring into hers.

She was so close now she could feel the warmth of his body, smell him… Sweat and dirt, but beyond that, there was something like potions ingredients, and beyond that … she inhaled slightly … there something earthy, wholesome.

Tension. The room was suddenly stifling with tension.

Snape's breathing hitched. His eyes were burning into hers, scorching her face, his gaze, intense and intoxicating and … anxious. It felt like hours slipped away…. Then her eyes slipped to his mouth, just for a second, just for one second she looked at his mouth, but when she looked back into those fathomless eyes they seemed to have grown hooded, and wilder, heated, and his breathing was faster, and she felt her cheeks flush as need erupted inside her, consuming her, and she forgot to breathe. Without thinking her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and those entrancing eyes widened suddenly, flickering down to her mouth, and then back again.

"Please." She whispered, her voice breathless and shaky, and she had no idea what she was asking for.

His eyes fluttered closed, but when he opened them the burning had cooled a little, and he fumbled behind himself until he found the handle, and opened the door. He stepped back to let her through, but the distance that was now between them left her feeling bereft. She stood motionless in the little corridor, then numbly followed Snape through to his living room, sitting herself on his second best armchair. He sat down heavily in the chair next to hers.

"Shouldn't you get to bed, sir?" She asked quietly.

His only response was to glare at her. She opened her mouth to argue her point when his expression suddenly changed once again, his face twisting in pain. In an instant she was kneeling in front of him, her mind recalling the image of her in the exact same position in her third year, at the beginning of his nightmare. He looked worse now she could see him in the light; so tired the shadows under his eyes were shades of black, his skin almost green, his hair most definitely dirty. And then a great shudder ran through him, his back arched pushing him forwards in the armchair and his body began to shake. Really shake.

"Tell me what to do!" She cried.

But he was in no fit state to answer her, he let out a groan as his hands clawed convulsively on the fabric, sweat ran down his face but he was shivering as if he would die of cold.

And then he slumped back into the chair, his breathing ragged, the occasional tremor still wracking his body.

Hermione took a few deep breaths and forced herself to be objective; she flicked her wand and lit a fire, perhaps to comfort herself more than her Professor. Then she conjured a glass of water, standing and leaning forwards to press it to Snape's thin lips. He kept his eyes shut, which sent a jolt of fear into her chest, but she quickly suppressed it, Vanishing the glass when he was finished and wiping away a trickle of water down his chin with her thumb. His eyes flew open at that and her heart stuttered, but he didn't pull away, just watched her carefully, his face beyond exhaustion. Next she conjured a cloth, dampening it with cool water and made to press it on Snape's brow. He snatched it off her before she could get there though, and roughly rubbed it over his face before discarding it, the whole thing seemed to have been a great effort to him, but he was too bloody stubborn to have let her do it for him. She sighed, and perched herself on the arm of his chair, gently undoing the buttons on the sleeves of his robes and easing them back, then doing the same to the buttons of his white undershirt. He was still watching her intently. Hermione then moved her hands up to undo the buttons of his collar…

"What are doing?!" He asked, his voice alarmed as he pushed himself backwards, away from her hands.

"I was just going to undo a couple of buttons on your collar, sir, just to make you a little more comfortable." She said awkwardly, fighting a blush as it dawned on her that those buttons when all the way down…

"I can do it." He snapped, but his hands shook too much, and he fumbled for a second, before throwing his hands down angrily and turning his head away from her.

Silently, she moved to undo them herself.

"Two." He said suddenly, and it took her a moment to realised what he meant.

"Two." She agreed, and undid the two top buttons of his frock coat, and then his shirt. That was technically four, she thought idly, but no matter.

She settled herself back into the second best armchair, her eyes still on Snape. His colour seemed a little better now, but he was ignoring her, staring into the fire. She sighed again. Why. Why did it have to be him? He was her Professor, he wasn't very attractive, he wasn't very nice, he was 20 years older than her, and they were in the middle of a war. But … she thought of the very first time she'd been in this room, she thought of Snape making fun of her teeth, their first honest conversation that followed, his shocked face when she told him to be careful after he was horrible to her, him helping her calm herself when Harry was late out of the lake, his argument with Karkaroff and his pain, him healing her hands, then touching his hand when he was hurt, him Summoned, his promise to protect Harry, him trembling in his bed after his first meeting with Voldemort, the first time she'd amused him, their argument about Harry and Umbridge, their lonely figures sitting in the snow together, his beautiful chuckle, sitting with him in the dark after the breakout from Azkaban, him forgiving her when she forgot to think of the consequences of Harry's interview, the subsequent, Disillusioned, late night encounter, the first time he held her hand back and him falling asleep with his head in her lap, having hot chocolate with him after her nightmare, him falling asleep at her bedside after the Ministry, realising Amortentia smelt like him to her, his obvious agony after the summer that led to their most intimate moment – the memory of that still left her breathless – his anger at Slughorn's party, their conversation about the Vow…

It didn't matter that it was unlikely, perhaps even impossible, it didn't change the way she felt. It was him. It had been him for a long time. She looked back at the man himself. He was asleep. Her face broke into a tender smile.

_His._

A shiver ran through his body and her smile faded, once again visualising a huge blanket, Hermione conjured one, and placed it gently over his sleeping form, her heart feeling as if it had left her chest, and gone to him. She sat on the floor by his feet, silently easing his shoes off and placing them under the coffee table.

Should she leave now? She doubted he'd be pleased to see her when he woke … she sighed and settled herself back into the armchair. She'd just stay for a little while.

Hermione looked at his flawed, beautiful face and ached for him. She felt like she could look at his face forever…. And maybe she did that night.

* * *

It was very early morning when she finally left, and she scrawled down a note, leaving it on his table. It had taken her an embarrassingly long time to decide what to write, or if she should write at all, but she settled on a simple 'I hope you feel better, Professor Snape', leaving it unsigned; he'd seen her hand-writing often enough. She sighed, and allowed herself a couple of moments to simply look at him, before she slipped out of the dungeons, and back to Gryffindor tower.

* * *

Later the same morning, she received a note at breakfast, intrigued, Hermione opened it, keeping the scroll away from Harry and Ron's view – they were probably too engaged in a Quidditch discussion to notice anyway.

'Thank you'

It was unsigned but she knew the spiky handwriting well enough. Her stomach flipped. Snape was not in the Hall. Still, she smiled to herself, warded the note, and put it carefully inside one of her books, at the very bottom of the bag.

Strange how two words can have such a huge impact.

* * *

*Harry told Ron and Hermione everything that had happened with Slughorn's memory, the Horcruxes, and Dumbledore's promise to take Harry with him on his next trip, during their Charms lesson (having first cast the Muffliato spell upon those nearest them).

"Wow," said Ron, when Harry had finally finished telling them everything; Ron was waving his wand very vaguely in the direction of the ceiling without paying the slightest bit of attention to what he was doing. "Wow. You're actually going to go with Dumbledore ... and try and destroy ... wow."

"Ron, you're making it snow," she said, grabbing his wrist and redirecting his wand away from the ceiling from which, large white flakes had started to fall. Lavender Brown glared at her from a neighbouring table through very red eyes, and Hermione immediately let go of Ron's arm.

"Oh yeah," said Ron, looking down at his shoulders in vague surprise. "Sorry... looks like we've all got horrible dandruff now..."

He brushed some of the fake snow off her shoulder and Lavender burst into tears. Ron looked immensely guilty and turned his back on her.

"We split up," he told Harry out of the corner of his mouth, "Last night. When she saw me coming out of the dormitory with Hermione. Obviously she couldn't see you, so she thought it had just been the two of us."

"Ah," said Harry. "Well — you don't mind it's over, do you?"

"No," Ron admitted. "It was pretty bad while she was yelling, but at least I didn't have to finish it."

"Coward," said Hermione. "Well, it was a bad night for romance all around. Ginny and Dean split up too, Harry."

She'd spoken to the redhead before breakfast.

"How come?"

"Oh, something really silly… She said he was always trying to help her through the portrait hole, like she couldn't climb in herself ... but they've been a bit rocky for ages."

"Of course, this puts you in a bit of a dilemma, doesn't it?" She said.

"What d'you mean?" said Harry, a little too quickly.

"The Quidditch team, if Ginny and Dean aren't speaking..."

"Oh — oh yeah," said Harry.

"Flitwick," said Ron in a warning tone. The tiny little Charms master was bobbing his way toward them, and Hermione was the only one who had managed to turn vinegar into wine; her glass flask was full of deep crimson liquid, whereas the contents of Harry's and Ron's were still murky brown.

"Now, now, boys," squeaked Professor Flitwick reproachfully. "A little less talk, a little more action… Let me see you try…"

Together they raised their wands, and pointed them at their flasks. Harry's vinegar turned to ice; Ron's flask exploded.

"Yes ... for homework," said Professor Flitwick, re-emerging from under the table and pulling shards of glass out of the top of his hat, "practice."

They had one of their rare joint free periods after Charms and walked back to the common room together. Ron seemed to be positively light-hearted about the end of his relationship with Lavender, and she was feeling rather cheery too, despite her tiredness. Though of course, when Harry asked what she was grinning about she could only say, "It's a nice day."*

Because it was.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was an old and tired man, with very little time left. He also happened to be exceptionally talented at manipulating … well … pretty much anything. This war was so important, so crucial to the future of the wizarding world, it seemed incredibly reckless to leave anything to chance. And besides, he had meddled in so much in the past, so much in the present, and would continue to meddle so much in the future, even when he was gone, that a little more meddling really shouldn't matter to him.

And yet it did.

Two years ago, on the night that Voldemort had returned, he'd walked back over to the stands, in search of his precious spy, and there had been Severus and Hermione Granger, heads tilted together, her hand around his.

He'd had a suspicion, of what it was, then.

He knew his spy well, he knew what it meant for him to allow anyone to behave in such a way … but at the time, Albus Dumbledore had done nothing.

And then a year after that, he'd entered the Hospital Wing in the early hours of the morning, wanting to check on those brave, foolish children, and found Severus, covered in a blanket, asleep by Miss Granger's bed.

He'd thought it likely that his suspicions had been correct, then.

Severus obviously cared about the girl. She must have been incredibly patient with his Potions Master for this to happen, and he himself must have made certain allowances… And still, Albus Dumbledore had done nothing.

And then last night, he'd known his spy had been Summoned, but Fawkes had only just been reborn, and was too weak to wait for him, so as dawn broke, he'd gone down to the dungeons to check on Severus's wellbeing. And he'd been asleep in his armchair, his shoes neatly placed under his table, wrapped in another heavy blanket, facing the girl.

The girl by his side.

She'd been asleep as well, facing him. They'd made a strangely dramatic scene. The spy and the brains.

And now he knew he'd been right about them.

Really, to leave such a huge thing to chance in such uncertain times was incredibly reckless. But he still remembered what it was like to be young and besotted, and how it felt to be isolated, and alone as Severus undoubtedly would become. And he was an old, and tired man with very little time left.

And Albus Dumbledore had always known how powerful love can be.

* * *

**So here's another chapter, yay! I had a bit more free time this week, so I'd written little bits as I went along, and then today I literally couldn't stop. I have so much work I'll need to do tomorrow ;) I think it's just gonna have to be a case of updating when I can because I suck at sticking to a schedule - I'll never leave it really long though, or if I have to at some point, like when I have exams, I'll post a warning :) **

**I know Dumbledore is a character that causes a lot of controversy in the fanfiction world, this is just my take on him, and I thought it would be interesting to include another POV. I doubt I'll do it again so if you hated it no worries. And if you hate Dumbledore, that's totally fine too, I get it, I just personally think he's essentially doing things for the right reasons. I don't want to get into a Dumbledore debate with anyone though because I don't feel particularly strongly about him either way. **

**Thanks for reading :)**

***Text between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince - J.K Rowling. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them movies out in 2016, 2018 and 2020! Another reason to be hopeful for the future ;)**

* * *

**mundy - hahaaa glad you agree ;) Thank youuuu, I hope you continue to enjoy it x**

**vaila - I hope you found this chapter okay, I know it's hard to decide what's best for the story, I sort of feel like it's just flowing itself, and so I think I'll continue in the same way, and hope you like where it goes. This chapter obviously talks about attraction a little more, although there have been subtle things in the chapters for a while for both of them, feelings rather than thoughts as they've both been ignoring the way they feel about each other to a certain extent! I definitely gets harder to keep them in character, particularly Severus, as their relationship develops, but I try my best ;) He does try to fight it quite often, but I think at this point, it's a bit of a losing battle, and he knows it. x**


End file.

Harry Potter, Hurt-Comfort, Romance