Hermione Granger sat on a boulder on the shore of a peaceful mountain lake. She had been spending a lot of time lately at her parent’s cabin in the mountains of the Southwest of Ireland. A diary was lying face up in her lap as she watched an eagle circle the air above her in search of its next meal. The azure sky littered with cottony clouds was slowly darkening, as the sun made its leisurely descent to hide behind the emerald vegetation on the opposite shore. The sound of a river in the near distance was babbling its joyful song, and Hermione couldn’t help but once again be reminded of how much she loved this place. It had been her favorite since she was a child. Its scenery and abundant wildlife and sounds had a way of calming a person’s most potent fears and anxieties.

A twig snapped behind her and she turned to see what, or who had interrupted her moment of peace. “Well, hello there. I’ve been expecting you. You’re late,” she greeted serenely, as she reached inside her backpack for a carrot. She snapped off an end and tossed it gently to the cautious doe.

She approached slowly, nose to the ground, finding the treat too tempting to resist. Hermione smiled as she carefully, as not to frighten her friend away, snapped another piece of the vegetable and tossed it, a step closer than the last.

The animal’s rich chocolate eyes warily studied the human for a moment. Then finally deciding that the girl stood no threat, she approached the next piece of the offered snack.

Hermione stood slowly, and quietly, with a hand outstretched. She took a tentative step forward, and offered the gentle animal the last bit of carrot from her hand.

The doe’s ears perked, as she raised her head and once again studied the person in front of her.

Hermione had met the beautiful doe a week after she had arrived, and this is how it had been every day since. The doe would approach her, but not too closely, and as soon as Hermione made any movement toward her, she would dart away. Hermione didn’t really expect it to be any different today, but she had hopes, and if the creature ran again today, she would try again tomorrow. She would come to this spot and wait for her new friend, as she had for the past two weeks since, their first encounter.

Seeing that the doe was not yet so comfortable around her, Hermione tossed the last bit and watched as the graceful female ate it gratefully.

Sensing there was no more of the tasty morsel, the doe once again eyed Hermione, licked her muzzle, turned and strutted away with the grace that only her kind possessed.

Hermione smiled. “Progress,” she stated quietly, as she returned to her boulder. She picked up her journal and opened it to the page she had been writing in. Slowly she began reading,

My dearest Diary,

It has been far too long since I’ve last written.

It has been five years to the day since I graduated from Howarts, and I can’t believe it. Some days I really miss wandering the halls, and getting caught up in whatever mischievous adventure Harry had going on at the moment.

Speaking of Harry, he was married to Ginny two months ago, (It’s about time if you ask me!). They seem very happy and at peace together.

After nearly seven years of serious dating, Ron and I could no longer tolerate each other as a couple, so we mutually decided that we were much better off as friends. That was just before Harry’s wedding. Ron hasn’t said anything, but I think there is already someone new. I’ve seen him a few times with her anyway. I don't know who she is, but they look happy. I’m grateful that he’s found someone new, but I can’t help but feel there is a hole in my heart, whenever I see them together.

I’ve taken an extended Holiday from work, and I am enjoying the tranquil surroundings here at my parent’s cabin near Killarney. I love this place! I’ve even made a new friend, whom I will dub, Hope. She is a breathtakingly beautiful doe, and we have been meeting each other everyday near the lake for the last two weeks. I so named her because she gives me ‘hope’ that all is well and that my life will soon take on meaning. Our meetings give me something to look forward to each day.

My mind has been troubled of late, and I can’t really put my finger on as to why, but being here helps to ease the incessant worry that something is about to change my life. Whether it be for the better or worse has yet to be seen. I suppose only time will tell.

Hermione sighed as she closed the book that was filled with her deepest thoughts, and took one last look at the breathtaking sunset, that was throwing oranges and pinks across the sky, admiring God’s artistic abilities. She stood and bent to retrieve her backpack, so she could begin her short hike back to the cabin.

The walk back was nearly as relaxing as the lake shore. The sides of the trail were littered with wild flowers of almost every imaginable color. She did as she had done many times before and picked a bouquet for the vase on her night-stand. Her first choice was a delicate blue daisy. She put it to her face and inhaled the sweet fragrance before adding others to it. Before she reached her destination, she had a veritable palette of color in her dainty hand.

Once inside the warm shelter, she filled a vase for her flowers and set to work on a fire. She bent to add logs to the grate before striking a match. She insisted on living as a Muggle while in this peaceful other world.

“Ouch!” she exclaimed, as she examined the splinter that was now protruding from her index finger. She pulled it out with her fingernails and sucked at the small droplet of blood that had begun to form.

With her finger still in her mouth, she wandered to her bookshelf and pulled out an old favorite. She then went to the kitchen to get herself a sandwich and a glass of water. She took her book and supper to her favorite recliner and settled in for a good read and another peaceful night, away from all manners of ‘need to.’

She awoke the next morning to the gentle sound of rain beating a soothing rhythm against her bedroom window. She stretched lazily, and made her way to an upright postion. She shuffled her feet across the hardwood floor and lifted the window. She leaned out as far as she was able and with arms outstretched, deeply inhaled the clean, earthy scent that only a summer rain storm can bring, letting the cool droplets wash away any remnants of last night’s sleep. She felt like shouting for joy at the peace she was feeling for the first time in over a year.

In a few hours, the rain would stop and God would once again show the world what beauties he was capable of creating, with a spectacular rainbow. She pulled on her favorite pair of faded and worn blue jeans that had a hole in the right knee and a pink t-shirt underneath a navy blue, hooded sweatshirt that was two sizes too large for her small frame. She pulled on her socks and a pair of comfortable old hiking boots. She packed a lunch and her carrot offering, along with a canteen of ice cold water. She flung her backpack onto her shoulders and stepped out the front door.

She loved hiking in the rain, something her father had passed on to her, saying, ‘Find the perfect place to watch that rainbow and it will make the pot of gold at the end seem no more spectacular than a pot full of regular grey pebbles.’ Besides that, everything seemed so much more peaceful when it rained, and she didn’t want to miss this opportunity. She would hike until she reached that perfect spot. She had been there many times with her dad, and it wasn’t all that far away, only a little over a mile.

By the time she reached her clearing, the rain had slowed to light mist and the sun was trying to break through its cloudy prison. Within moments, it succeeded and the first of its rays were making the damp wildflowers and green grass glisten. She stepped to the edge of the cliff and waited. She wasn’t disappointed. Before long, a beautiful double decker rainbow had painted the morning sky. It was the most vibrant rainbow she could ever recall seeing, and she wanted to bottle it and save it for a gloomy day. She pulled her camera out of her pack and snapped a picture. She wanted to always remember how she felt at this very moment, away from the hustle and bustle of life in the city. Away from her nightmares and fears and worries.

She took a deep breath and sighed heavily. She had only one more week in this personal heaven of hers, before she had to return to London and the everyday life that awaited her there. She loved her job, working with the children. But not until now, did she realize just how draining solving all of their problems actually was.

Ron had suggested several years ago, that she take up a job as a counselor. ‘That way,’ he said, ‘You could get paid for all of the brilliant advice you give.’

The idea struck a cord in her, and she immediately set to work, contacting the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, to find out what she needed to do to actually become a youth counselor. Kingsley of course, gave her an immediate apprenticeship, and two years ago she took the place of the previous head counselor, who had decided that she was ready to retire.

Now that the sun was out, the air began to warm quickly. She shucked off her sweatshirt, tied it around her waist and turned around to continue her hike. There was an amazing tiered waterfall not too far from where she now stood. There she would eat her simple lunch, then take a swim in the isolated crystal pool at the bottom of the falls.

She sat at the edge of the pool with her legs dangling in the cool water below, thinking about her life. Since the war against Voldemort had ended, she had been practically named a hero. She didn’t really feel she deserved it, for there were many, many others who deserved it more than she. Her thoughts turned suddenly to one, Severus Snape. He had to be the most noble man she had ever met. He had lost a lot in the war when Voldemort named him a traitor, namely his eyesight. He could see vague shapes, but from what she had heard, it was as though he were living in a world of shadows. The worst part is, is that he would allow no one to help him. He kept himself locked away in his dungeon quarters at Hogwarts. Hermione couldn’t help but think what a waste it was. His mind, his brilliant mind was wasting away, and there was nothing anyone could do but sit and watch, and wait to see if he would ever recover. It was doubtful, she thought. How could he ever recover if he would not let anyone near him.

Snapping out of her thoughts, she stood, pulled off her clothing and dived, allowing the crystal clear water to engulf her. Her head broke the surface, and she fell into a slow, graceful breast stroke. As she reached the edge of the pool she spotted something moving in the trees ahead of her. ‘Brilliant!’ she thought bitterly. ‘The one time, in the hundreds of times I’ve been swimming here, that I forgot my bathing suit, is the one time I get company.’

She breathed a sigh of relief when Hope stepped into view. “You frightened me, little one. I didn’t expect to see you just yet, let alone see you here. Are you so anxious for your snack?” Hermione smiled as she lifted herself out of the pool and made her way to her pack and her pile of clothes.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the carrot. As always, she broke off a chunk and tossed it to the gentle animal. But instead of taking the food, she bowed to her front knees and laid down, panting heavily. Hermione’s brows furrowed as she studied this unusual behavior. She quickly dressed and rushed to her side. Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth as she saw a mass of sticky crimson fur on her left flank.

She rushed to her back pack and pulled out her wand, she may be called crazy by some for not wanting to abandon all of her Muggle habits, but she wasn’t stupid. She carried her wand with her at all times, even while here, in this place where it seemed no evil existed. Hermione looked into the eyes of the doe, they held immense fear and pain.


Hermione moved slowly, so she wouldn’t startle the injured female and reached a hand to stroke the soft fur of her head.

Hope made no move, sensing that if she wanted to remain alive for another day, she would do best to hold still and let this kind human administer to her.

Hermione pointed her wand at the injured leg and whispered the healing spells. She had never used them on an animal, so she could only hope that it would work the same on her four legged friend as it did on her human ones. She breathed a sigh of relief as the wound spit out the bullet and began closing itself. Hermione conjured a rag and some warm water and soap so that she could clean the blood from her beautiful fur, erasing the scent from her animal predators.

Healed, the doe stood. She held Hermione’s gaze for several moments before nudging her arm in thanks. Hermione stroked her head, feeling the velvet softness of her ears. She sent a silent summoning charm to the carrot and smiled as Hope took it from her hand.



Hermione sat staring out the front room window, watching the stars above, reliving the events of the afternoon. Deciding she’d had enough excitement for one day, she put out the lights and climbed into the comfort of bed. She fell into a fitful sleep, and for the first time since she had arrived three weeks ago, the nightmares returned.



I hope you liked my prologue. You can let me know by leaving feedback here.

Dayna

Thanks, Jana! For being my beta for this fic. You're awesome!

Chapter 1

Who are you?” asked a frightened, cautious Hermione.

“Get . . . out!” came the angry reply.

“But please, I want to help.” She reached out a helping hand to the bandage covering the man’s face.

He turned his back on her, and took a tentative step forward, as though he were afraid he might trip and fall.

Hermione could tell that he was becoming exceedingly uncomfortable in her presence, but she could not pull herself away from him. “Sir, please. I can help. I’m the only one that can.” Hermione’s emotions were going haywire. Her entire body was screaming at her to run, yet her heart was telling her to stay, to ignore the angry man and reach out with every fiber of her being. She was scared, sad, ecstatic, and at peace, all at the same time. Not the temporary peace she felt while in Ireland, but peace such as she had never felt before in her entire life. The kind of peace that brings hope.

“I don’t need your help, and I don’t want your sympathy! Now, I said, get . . . out!”

Hermione stepped around to the front of the mysterious man and reached for the bandage on his face. As soon as she touched it, her wrist was seized in a vise like grip. Undeterred, she lifted her other hand and with one swift movement she removed the bandage.

For one brief moment, her breath caught in her throat. Then horrified, she screamed.

Hermione awoke in a cold sweat. She sat up in her bed, and wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. She sighed wearily and looked at her clock, three-thirty in the morning. She groaned and lay heavily back down, curling into the fetal position and throwing a pillow over her head, trying to block out the image she had been seeing in her dreams for the past three years. She knew the next part of the dream, like she knew ‘Hogwarts: A History,’ and it always left her frightened and confused.

Her attention was turned to her window as she heard a faint tapping. She lit a lamp and hurried to let the owl in. It hopped lightly to her shoulder and she rubbed its beak as it stuck out its leg and offered the message.

Hermione untied the ribbon, and watched as the owl, its job done, took off gracefully into the star strewn sky. She glanced at the envelope as she walked slowly back to her bed. She recognized the seal on the back and the elegant script on the front, at once. She sat on her bed and, wondering what in the world was so important that Minerva McGonagall would disrupt her, when she knew full well that she was on holiday and didn’t want to be disturbed. She quickly ripped the envelope and pulled out the letter.

Miss Granger,
I am so sorry to interrupt your well-deserved rest. Please know that if I felt this wasn’t of utmost importance, I wouldn’t have sent this owl until you returned to London next week. However, being as it is, I must ask that you give this matter serious consideration.

There will be representatives from St. Mungo’s here, the day after tomorrow, to institutionalize Severus. We have had too many students complaining about the noise coming from his quarters. Even the Bloody Baron and Peeves will no longer venture anywhere near his room.

I know I have never been his biggest fan, but I don’t think being put in hospital would be best for him. I know he will not go without a fight, and someone is bound to be injured.

Minister Shacklebolt has given you a glowing recommendation. He has told me that you have worked miracles on even the most troubled adolescents. I know that Severus is no longer a teenager, but I am hoping you will be able to get through to him. Perhaps if the representatives see what an adept counselor he has, they will give him a bit more time.

I would just let the healers take him, but since, well, you know, he has known nothing but his dungeon quarters. I think removing him from the only thing he knows would be the worst for him. What I really need right now is a Gryffindor, and there is no one more ‘Gryffindor’ than you. I have a sneaking suspicion that you will be exactly what he needs.

Hoping to see you soon,
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress

Hermione re-read the letter three times over. Why would they think that she would be the best for the job. Surely there were others, more qualified. He would probably do better in St. Mungo’s.

She sighed and rose from her bed. She couldn’t say no, not with everything McGonagall had done for her in the past. She haphazardly packed a few articles of clothing and toiletries and grabbed her jar of floo powder. She stepped into her fireplace, threw a handful of glittering powder at her feet and said, “McGonagall’s office, Hogwarts.” The familiar green flames rose and Hermione was carried away to land moments later on the hearth of the Headmistress’ office.

The room was empty, so Hermione decided that she would do as she was asked. She descended the spiral staircase from McGonagall’s office and wandered along the empty, darkened corridors. They were ominous. Eerily quiet.

She slowly made her way down to the dungeons. If she thought the upper floors were ominous, it was nothing to how she was feeling now. There wasn’t even the sound of mice scurrying along the floors. The only sound was that of her own feet, they sounded ten times louder than they should, on the cold, stone floor. She wanted to turn around and run, and never look back. It was the beginning of the nightmare she’d had nearly every night for what seemed like ages. Chills ran up and down her spine, and despite the muggy heat, she felt cold. She hugged herself tightly and forced herself to move, step by terrified step. An argument was playing in her mind. ‘What are you so afraid of? Sure he’s a horrible person. He’s always had a less than desirable personality, but you’d survived as his student for seven years. This should be a piece of cake.’ ‘Yeah, but he’s different now. Angrier, if possible, than he ever has been. And who knows what he is now capable of.’

She reached Snape’s door before she was ready, and the words of McGonagall’s letter came flittering to her mind, ‘There is no one more Gryffindor than you.’ She took a deep breath and knocked, not caring that it was barely four-thirty in the morning.

“Go away!” hissed the angry voice.

“I’m not going away, Professor, so you may as well let me in.”

There was no reply.

Hermione stepped back and said, loud enough that Snape could hear her, “Alohamora.” And the lock clicked.

Hermione stepped boldly inside before he could re-lock the door, and prevent her from entering. As soon as she closed the door behind her, the smell hit her. The room smelled of rotting flesh and body odor, and immediately she wished she hadn’t been able to come in. Once she actually thought about it, it was all too simple. She should not have been able to get in with just a simple unlocking charm. Her throat went dry, and her heart began its attempted escape from her chest. It was pitch black, and deathly silent. “Hello?” she squeaked. “Professor, are you in here?”

An iron cold hand grasped her wrist and spun her around. Though she could not really see him, standing in front of her was the man from her nightmares. Bandages were covering his once black, fathomless eyes. She was mentally preparing herself for the sight that would meet her once the bandages were removed.

“I. . .said. . .get. . .OUT!” came the menacing voice.

“No!” she stated fiercely, straightening her back and jutting out her chin in stubbornness. “Now, let go of me, before I jinx you into oblivion, and save the world the trouble of trying to save you!”

He shoved her arm roughly away. “I didn’t ask to be saved, and I don’t need the help or sympathy from anyone, let alone, the likes of you.”

“Well, then, I guess we’re going to have a grand old time, now, aren’t we. I’m so glad I came home from Ireland for this.” She waved her wand and lit the lamps in the room. Instantly, she wished she hadn’t. Her mind took in several things at once. She saw several rats scamper away as soon as the lights assaulted their eyes. The room was in shambles. End-tables were overturned, broken dishes were strewn across the floor, and the rotting flesh she smelled when she first entered was coming from the corner where, judging from the scorch marks on the walls, it looked as though a misfired spell had ricocheted from wall to wall, finally hitting an unfortunate rat. Hermione’s stomach rolled as the stench of the half-decayed rodent filled her nostrils. But what most made her regret lighting the lamps was the look on her ex-professor’s face.

His paper white, almost translucent face was twisted in agony as he lifted his arm to block out whatever blinding light that the bandage refused to keep out. “Turn out the lights!” he bellowed.

Hermione didn’t hesitate, and once again they were enveloped by darkness. “I’m sorry, Professor. I had no idea it would be painful for you.” She looked around the room, seeing nothing but the pitch blackness around her. “Professor, could I maybe light one lamp? It’ll make it awfully difficult to clean up this place if I can’t see what I’m doing. I may end up vanishing something that isn’t supposed to be vanished. I promise, I will only use the barest amount of light.”

“I had no idea McGonagall sent for a maid. It’s a shame if you ask me. A brain like yours amounting to nothing more than a housekeeper. Very well, do as you must, but not until I have left the room. And please, get rid of that stench. I tried to do it myself, following the smell, but I think I vanished a bookshelf instead,” he mused angrily.

“Oh, Professor, I’m not a mai. . .” She let her voice trail off when she heard a door slamming to the left of her. She sighed, lit a lamp and set to work cleaning the atrocious living quarters, thinking, ‘I left my parent’s cabin for this? I’ll have to go back for Hope. I don’t want her to think I abandoned her. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.’

It took her thirty-five minutes to make the place look as though it were inhabited by humans, and that’s saying a lot, as it would have taken even the fastest Muggle at least three days to make it look as though it did right now. Getting rid of the dead rat did wonders for the smell, but there was still a lingering odor, so Hermione conjured a pineapple and citrus candle to help cover the scent, while opening the door and putting a fan at the frame to blow the rotten stench out.

Finally satisfied with how the place looked and smelled, she settled in on the sofa to possibly catch a few more hours of much needed sleep.



I hope you all like this chapter. Let me know by leaving feedback here.

Thanks for reading,
Dayna

Chapter 2

Hermione was awakened two hours later as the full weight of Severus Snape fell upon her.

“Umph!” she grunted under his weight.

The unexpected body on his couch made him jump up in alarm, and in doing so, he fell over the coffee table in front of it. “What, in the name of Merlin, are you still doing here, Miss Granger? I don’t believe I offered my sofa to you as a bed!” he bellowed as he attempted to get to his feet.

Hermione lit a dim lamp and jumped up to assist her ex-professor to his feet. “I’m so sorry, Professor. It was early when I received Professor McGonagall’s owl. I came here at once, and I suppose the lack of sleep just caught up with me. By the way, I’m sorry I intruded so early, but I was anxious to get on with it, and I wasn’t really thinking about the hour.”

He waved her away with an angry hand, narrowly missing her mid-section as he did so. “Yes, who wouldn’t be anxious to clean my living quarters?” he snarled sarcastically as he stumbled clumsily to his feet. “As for the hour of your intrusion, I really have no way of knowing whether it’s noon or midnight. Now, if your job is complete, I suggest you leave immediately, if it isn’t, then I say, get to it. I assume you are not being paid to sleep on my couch.”

“N-no, Sir. I’m not being paid to clean your quarters at all. I . . .”

Severus interrupted, “If you’re not here to clean, then what, pray tell, brought you barging in here at an apparently unreasonable hour. Surely you can’t have missed me so much that you would come here just to tidy up.”

“No, you don’t understand, Professor. I’m not a maid, I’m a . . .” She stopped herself, thinking that he might not take so kindly to having a counselor trying to get into his head. “A . . . friend,” she finished lamely.

Severus snorted in disbelief, “A friend?” he asked incredulously. “I don’t need a friend, so if you’ll excuse me.” He took a step forward, and forgetting to test his footing, he tripped over an empty garbage bin.

With the reflexes of a fox, Hermione caught him before he hit the floor. She struggled under his weight for a moment as he regained his balance. “You were saying, Professor? You may think that you don’t need anyone, but I know better. And I’m not leaving, so I guess you’ll just have to live with it.”

Severus was dumbstruck, never before had anyone spoken to him like that. Well, maybe one other person. But she was taken from him many years ago. “Miss Granger, I don’t know who you think you are, intruding on my solitude, but I’ve gotten along quite well on my own for many years now. So, if you please . . . Get. . . Out!” he hissed.

Completely ignoring the angry man, she said innocently, “I’m starving. Can I get you anything from the kitchens?”

There was no answer. “Alright, then. I suppose I’ll just see you in a little while. I need to speak to Professor McGonagall, but I’ll be back as soon as I’m able. I shouldn’t be long.” And with that, she opened the door, extinguished the lamp, and left to find some breakfast and Minerva.



Thirty minutes later, Hermione Granger sat across from Minerva McGonagall in the spacious office reserved for the current Headmaster or mistress of Hogwarts, to discuss the matter at hand.

“I can’t believe you didn’t come to me first. I would have thought you, Miss Granger, of all people would have had the common sense to talk to me before diving straight into the snake pit. You had no idea what he’s capable of. You could have been hurt,” Minerva said sternly.

“But I wasn’t, Professor. Besides, I did come to see you first. I flooed here straight away once I received your owl. When you weren’t here, I went down to Snape’s room. Honestly, Professor, I know that he is a cold, horrible man, but hasn’t he proved it to all of us that he isn’t a monster? What real danger could I have possibly been in? I’m not a child anymore, Professor. I can look after myself.” Hermione puffed out her chest and stuck her nose in the air stubbornly.

McGonagall looked somewhat repentant. “I know that you are a more than capable witch, I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t. I only meant to say that Severus had changed. He has avoided all human associations for six years. He isn’t the same person he was then. He’s worse even than when you were here after the battle for your seventh year, Miss Granger. At least back then a person would be able to catch glimpses of him emerging from his quarters every once in a while for exercise.”

Hermione looked outraged. “How would you know if he’s changed, Professor? Have you actually even tried to help him? Has anyone tried? Because if you were waiting for him to come to you, then it would be a cold day in hell before he ever received help. You know as well as I do, that his pride would never allow him to actually come and ask anyone for help. And I know for a fact that you haven’t been down there in a very long time. No one has.” Her voice quieted in sadness, “The state his quarters were in was proof enough of that.”

The anger returning she added, “So I don’t need you telling me that he’s changed.”

Hermione rose from her chair and stormed to the door, “So, Professor, if you’ll excuse me, I have a client to attend to.” And without a backward glance, she slammed the door and hurried back to the dungeons and a not so friendly Severus Snape, but first, she would stop by the kitchens and get them both some breakfast.

Minerva McGonagall sat behind her desk with a smirk on her face, as she said quietly to herself, “You are exactly what he needs, Hermione. I wish you luck.”


Hermione knocked softly on Severus’ door to give him warning before entering. She half expected it to be locked, but she was immensely pleased that is was not, as her arms were laden with food.

“Professor, are you in here? Professor Snape?” she called, as she felt her footing in the dark. She carefully set the breakfast on a desk, and lit a small lamp. The room was empty, and his bedroom door was closed. She shrugged, grabbed a blueberry muffin from the plate she brought in, chose a book from one of Snape’s many bookshelves and made herself comfortable on his sofa. She opened the cover and began to read.

She started when she heard the door knob to Snape’s room rattle. She watched as the bandaged face came into view. She stood, moving away from the couch so she wouldn’t be sat on again, and said, “Hello, Professor.”

“You’re still here, are you?” he asked coolly.

Ignoring him once again, she went on, “I wasn’t sure what you would like, so I brought muffins, bagels, cereal, pancakes, waffles, French toast, hash browns, sausage, bacon and eggs, scrambled, fried, and poached. There’s also coffee, pumpkin juice, orange juice, apple juice, milk and hot cocoa and marshmallows, if you want them.”

“Miss Granger, do I look like a hot-cocoa-with-marshmallows person to you?” he asked incredulously.

“I try not to judge books by their covers, Professor. For all I know, it could be your favorite morning drink.”

He made his way carefully to the couch and sat down. “Just coffee.”

Hermione rushed to the tray and poured a cup, while calling over her shoulder, “Sugar? Cream?”

“Black,” he drawled.

Hermione smirked, “I should have known.”

She hurried back to him and offered the cup, “Here you are, Professor.” She gently took his hand, and placed the warm china in it. “Be careful, it’s hot,” she cautioned kindly.

“Really?” he asked sarcastically, “That’s too bad, because I usually drink my coffee cold.”

Hermione was grateful that he could not see her face, as she was blushing with embarrassment from her unnecessary warning.

She sat in an armchair opposite the infamous Potions Master and studied him closely. His hair was much longer than it had been the last time she had seen him. She suddenly had a strong desire to stroke that hair. To run her fingers through it.

Her heart went out to him as she saw him struggling to drink his morning coffee and dribbled some down the front of his robes. “Can I help you, Professor?”

His head snapped up and turned toward the voice, “No, I do not need help, and as I’ve said before, I don’t need friends. Now, leave!” he snarled.

“No,” she stated stubbornly. “I’m staying. I rather like it here.”

“That’s IT!” he bellowed, as he stood abruptly, spilling the rest of his coffee. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you are not welcome here! I don’t need a maid, or a friend, or whatever else you think you may be. I’m doing perfectly well on my own, and I will continue to do so. Now, for the last time, GET OUT!”

“That’s good, Professor. That, it’s the last time, because I really have grown quite weary of this argument.”

At that moment a silver tabby cat came streaking into the room. It stopped in front of Hermione and spoke, “Just received an owl from St. Mungo’s officials. Moved date up to today. Will arrive in approximately twenty minutes.”

“No!” cried Hermione, “This can’t be happening!”

“What’s going on?” asked Severus. “Was that Minerva?”

“Yes, it was her patronus. Look, Professor, we need to get out of here. Now!”

To say Severus was furious would be a severe understatement. “First, you insist on staying, now, you expect me to leave with you. I don’t think so, Miss Granger. Now, tell me what’s going on!?” he demanded putting as much ice in his tone as he was able.

Exasperated, Hermione sighed, “Professor, we don’t have time for this. Unless you want to end up in St. Mungo’s, you’ll have to follow me. I’ll explain it all to you as soon as we’re someplace they won’t find you.”

“What do you care if I end up in St. Mungo’s?” he drawled, as though he didn’t care in the least whether or not he was institutionalized.

“You can’t tell me that you want to go to St. Mungo’s?” she asked, completely surprised by the tone in which he answered her. She sighed then answered his rhetorical question, “And, I do care, Professor. I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed them to take you to hospital. Please, Professor, just trust me.” She took hold of his hand and slowly started toward the door.

Severus didn’t know why, but he did trust her. He may not be able to see her, but he could just imagine the pleading look in her large expressive coffee-colored eyes. He remembered those eyes from when she was his student. The way they would light up whenever she correctly brewed her potion, which of course, was all the time. She was the brightest witch he’d ever taught. Not that he would ever admit that to her. He did, after all, have a cold facade to keep up.

He felt her dainty hand tugging slightly, and he followed, not knowing where she was leading, and for some inexplicable reason, not caring, as long as it was her doing the leading. She had said she cared. That she didn’t want him to end up in St. Mungo’s, which he had been expecting lately. Anyplace she took him would be better than there, he had never liked hospitals, the smells and all the hustle and bustle always set his nerves on end.

And she said she cared. Not since Lily, had anyone told him they cared.

Warmth filled his soul as he felt Hermione leading him through the dungeons.

Her voice broke his reverie.

“I’m sorry, Professor, but we’re going to have to go outside. It’s overcast, but it’s still daylight. We need to get outside the gates so we can Apparate. I know a place we can go, a place where you’ll be safe. Will you be alright going outside?”

He gave a curt nod, as he heard the great oak front doors squeak open and he mentally prepared himself for the excruciating pain that was sure to come. To his surprised relief, it never did.

Hermione led him through the castle grounds, splitting her efforts between getting Snape to safety as quickly as possible and placing on him the pain extinguishing charm she had invented. It worked better than any other she had tried, although it still had a few bugs she needed to work out. It took a lot of energy, especially when using it on others for extended periods of time. It always left her feeling drained for a few hours afterward.

She didn’t know why she was so against him going to St. Mungo’s. She was sure he would be just as safe there as he would be in Ireland. But her instincts were screaming at her, telling her that his best interests were definitely not with the Healers from St. Mungo’s who were no doubt on their way to Hogwarts that instant.

Hermione opened the gates and groaned audibly, as wizards in white coats came striding up the walk directly in front of them.

“Oi,” called the one in the lead. A heavy set wizard that reminded her in many ways of Horace Slughorn, right down to the thick mustache. “Have you come to deliver our patient?” he panted. “That’s excellent. It really is. I wasn’t looking forward to the long walk to the castle. Thank you, M’lady.”

Upon closer inspection, he looked nothing like the jolly professor. This man reminded her of an angry badger, ready to attack at the slightest provocation. Placing herself squarely in front of her charge she said, “Actually, no. I haven’t come to deliver him. We were just on our way out, you see. So, if you’ll excuse us.” She tightened her grip on Severus’ hand and prepared to Disapparate, but before she was able to leave, another wizard grabbed the hem of her sleeve and spun her around.

“Not so fast, Missy. Snape here is ours.”

Snape spoke for the first time since leaving the sanctuary of the castle, “Lestrange? Is that you?”

Rudolphus Lestrange cackled, “Looks like your hearing wasn’t damaged at all by the Dark Lord’s little curse. Tell me something, Traitor, how are those eyes of yours feeling nowadays? Don’t you just love those curses created by the Dark Lord. The best part is, it never stops, and nothing can ease the pain the light causes.” He paused for a minute, looking at the bandaged man. “Come to think of it, how in the name of Merlin are you managing in this light? The Dark Lord tried this curse on me, and the pain the light caused was worse than the Cruciatus.” He looked sincerely puzzled as he took in the apparent pain-free state his ex-colleague was in.

Hermione was terrified. How did they get here, weren’t the supposed to be in Azkaban? Was the whole ‘St. Mungo’s’ plan a trick to get Snape? Or were the real healers on their way here at this moment? These were just a few of the questions running at full speed through her head.

She needed to break free of the Death Eater’s grip, but if she defended herself and Snape, she would have to break the concentration of her charm, and if Lestrange was right, Severus would be in more pain than anyone should ever have to endure.

“Let the girl go, Lestrange. It’s me you want. It has nothing to do with her,” Snape bargained calmly.

“I don’t think so, Snape. If I remember correctly, this little Mudblood here helped the Potter brat. She wasn’t quite the looker back then as she is now, and since that Weasley cow killed my wife, I’ve been quite lonely.”

His voice sounded cold and slimy, and Severus had to reign in the beast that was threatening to burst free. Lestrange would not hurt a hair on Miss Granger’s head.

His hand was still wrapped tightly in hers and he felt her jerk. He imagined the greasy fingers caressing her innocent cheek. Bile rose in his throat as he thought, ‘I’m tainted. Everyone I ever care about ends up getting hurt.’

He heard Hermione’s frantic breath quicken as she jerked again.

“Keep your filthy hands off of her, Lestrange. I may not be able to see you, but the rest of my senses are as keen as ever, and I can practically hear her thoughts screaming for you to stop.”

“And what can you do about it, Snape!” Rudolphus spat at Severus’ feet. “You can’t use your wand. Who knows who you’d hit. You can’t throw a Muggle punch either, for the same reason. Maybe I’ll take her right here, and force you to listen to her scream.” He laughed, as did the rest of the masquerading Death Eaters.

Hermione felt the grip on her wrist slacken. She took advantage of the distraction and whispered, “I’m sorry about this, Professor.” She broke her concentration to stun her captor.

She cried in horror hearing Snape’s tortured cry of pain as he crumpled to the ground, holding his head.

The rest of the Death Eaters quickly closed in, but not quickly enough. She grabbed Snape’s hand, and with more determination than she’d ever had before, she Disapparated, taking her client with her.

Moments later, they landed in a heap on the hardwood floor of the cabin Hermione had left not six hours before.



Hey everyone~ I hope you liked this chapter, and I hope that you'll let me know what you think.

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Hermione, scrambling quickly to her feet, once again put all of her focus on relieving her charge’s pain until she could rid the cabin of light.

She felt her way through the blinding darkness to her armchair and collapsed into it, finally allowing her mind to rest. She was exhausted, and more than a little frightened. Death Eaters in Hogsmeade?! And Rudolphus at that. It was completely preposterous! The last she had heard, he was in Azkaban! Did he escape? Surely she would have heard, the Daily Prophet would have mentioned something if he had.

She heard Severus’ heavy breathing and knew that he must be suffering the aftereffects of the torturous pain.

“Professor? Are you alright?” She struggled to her feet, but immediately fell back as a wave of dizziness overcame her.

She heard him retching and her heart went out to him. She ignored the stabbing pain that had now settled in her head, just behind her eyes, and made her way to the dark mass she knew to be Snape.

She placed a tentative hand on his back and asked again, “Are you alright? Do you need anything? Water maybe?”

“Water,” he mumbled.

“I’ll be right back.” She started to straighten, but strong fingers encircled her wrist, halting her.

“What…? How…? I know you did something,” he croaked.

“What do you mean?”

“The pain. That was the first time I’ve been able to be outside and not suffer immeasurable torture. I know you did something. You said sorry, and the pain returned. Nothing I have tried has worked to ease it. I’ve been trying for six years to find a remedy.” His voice was filled with wonder, curiosity and frustration, along with annoyance that this child – no, not a child – he corrected himself, this young woman had discovered something that eased the torment, when he hadn’t been able to.

She quickly vanished the mess of sickness. “Stay right there, I’m getting you some water, then we’ll talk,” she answered kindly.

She hurried as fast as she dared in the dark and set the water on her coffee table. She went back to Snape and helped him to his feet. She led him to a comfortable, overstuffed sofa and placed the cup of cool liquid in his hand once he was settled.


She took a seat next to him, and laid her head back, rubbing her temples to try to relieve the stabbing pain.

“You’re in pain,” Severus stated.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

“No, you’re not. I may not be able to see you, but I can sense how uncomfortable you are.”

“It’ll pass. It always does.”

“Does this happen often?”

“Only when I use my pain extinguishing spell,” she sighed, nearly inaudible.

“Pain extinguishing spell? Where did you learn this?”

“I invented it. It works better than anything I’ve ever tried, the only drawback is when I use it on others, it drains my energy and gives me a headache that only time can dispel. No spell will ease it, and even Muggle medicine won’t help. I’ve tried everything.”

“So, why did you use it on me, if it causes you this discomfort?” He was awed at the talent this young witch possessed, and the fact that she would continue to use it on others when it caused her pain.

She furrowed her brow in confusion at his question. “Why did I use it on you? You don’t seriously think I would haul you outside where you would get more than a headache without it, do you? I’ll be fine. I just need to rest for a bit.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Severus sent a silent summoning charm for a pillow and a blanket. He got to his feet, his own pain from a few moments ago forgotten, and helped Hermione lie down. He tucked the blanket around her chin, and then stumbled his way to another seat to wait out her nap, and perhaps catch a little snooze himself. It had, after all, been an overly eventful morning, and they were both in need of a much deserved rest.

After a few moments of contented contemplation, Severus, too, closed his eyes, and the only sound that could be heard in the peaceful cabin was that of the soft breathing of two people sleeping.

An hour later, Hermione slowly began regaining consciousness. As her surroundings came into focus, she hoped that everything she had experienced that morning had been a nightmare, different, yes, than her usual nightmare, for it was much more realistic and horrible than the usual one, but a nightmare nonetheless.

Her mind began processing the sounds around her, and as she heard the heavy breathing somewhere near her, all hopes of waking up in her bed on the upper floor, vanished. It had all happened. Severus Snape was here with her, in her parent’s beautiful cabin. She sighed and sat up, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger as she did so, and waited for the last vestiges of her headache to leave her body.

She stood, and needing fresh air, headed to the front door. Slowly she opened it, trying to hush the squeak that never failed to ring through the cabin every time the door was opened.

“Is my presence here so disturbing that you feel you need to leave?” His voice was quiet, gentle, completely foreign sounding to Hermione.

She jumped around and in the faint light coming from the barely opened door, she spotted her guest, of sorts. “I. . . uh. . . No, Professor. I . . . um. . . just needed some fresh air.”

She shut the door, and hurried back to Snape’s side. “Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?” she asked.

“I’m fine, Miss Granger. Go. Get your fresh air. I’ll be here when you get back. Our conversation is not yet over. I am curious to know the mechanics of this spell of yours. Perhaps I could be of assistance in working out the bugs as you called it.”

“Thank you, Professor. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Take your time.”

Hermione waited for several moments, debating whether or not she should leave him alone, unprotected. After all, if Death Eaters could show up in Hogsmeade, who’s to say they wouldn’t come here.

“Just go. I’m a big boy and I can look after myself.”

“Yes, Sir.” And deciding he wouldn’t be in any immediate danger, she opened the door just enough to let herself out and quickly shut it behind her.

Hermione took a deep breath as she closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sunshine so the warm rays could fall upon her.

Instantly she began to feel better. She decided she would go down to the river for a moment. She pulled her wand out of her back pocket and placed a protection charm over the cabin. If anyone tried to Apparate in or out, she would know. He would be safe enough for the time being.

She began a leisurely stroll toward her destination.

She removed her shoes and socks and rolled up the cuffs of her jeans as she sat and sank her feet into the refreshing coolness the river so freely offered. Once again, Hermione closed her eyes, trying to block out some of the images of today that would forever haunt her, like that hungry look in Lestrange’s eyes. But most of all she wanted to forget the sound of Severus Snape howling in agony when she was forced to focus her energy elsewhere.

She heard voices from somewhere off behind her.

Hermione was instantly on alert. She pulled her feet from the water and replaced her shoes and socks. She went still as she tried to pick out what they were saying.

“She’s got to be here somewhere. How far could she have gone?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get her. We aren’t leaving without her.”

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. How could they have found us? She listened again.

“We lost the one yesterday. This girl won’t get away.”

Understanding dawned on Hermione. These weren’t wizards, these men were Muggles! A different wave of fear washed over her. It couldn’t be. . . Hope!



Hey everyone, I am so very sorry about the horribly long wait. But I'm back and I hope to continue to update regularly.

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Dayna

Hermione stepped out from behind a tree, directly in front of the two Muggle poachers.

“Erm. . . excuse me, but I seem to have lost my way. I’m so glad I found you, I’ve been wandering in circles for hours, not knowing which way to go. I keep turning up right here.”

She took a close look at the two men. One of them was rather handsome, in a rugged sort of way, but the look in his eyes sent a shiver of fear down her spine. She saw the same look earlier that morning. Luckily, she could handle any Muggle with the flick of her wand. She hated using magic on Muggles, and she hadn’t wanted to today, it didn’t seem fair, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She was not going to allow these filthy men to touch any part of her.

“Obliviate!”

The two men blinked, confused, and looked at each other in bewilderment.

Hermione whispered to them, a new memory.

The two men suddenly gained a conscience when it came to hunting innocent animals in a protected forest.

Hermione darted back into the trees to search for Hope. Hoping desperately that it wasn’t her doe they had been talking about. But where do you start looking for a specific doe in a large forest such as this.

She decided she would go to the lake, where she had first met her, and hope that Hope would come by for her carrot.

She waited by the lake for an hour. That was as long as she dared leave Severus unattended. And when she stepped into the clearing that her cabin was sitting in, she spotted her grazing on a bush in front of a window. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she quickly looked over Hope’s graceful body. There wasn’t a trace of a wound anywhere.

Hope’s ears perked at the sound of Hermione’s approach. She eyed Hermione, the green twig hanging from her mouth twitching as she gnawed it into pulp.

Hermione slowed her step, smiling. She didn’t want to frighten her friend away, but she needed to check on Snape, and the doe was in between herself and her destination.

Hope ducked her head and continued grazing as Hermione made her way up the steps of the porch.

Hope was so close that if Hermione stretched her arm, she would be able to stroke the amber fur.

She decided to chance it. Slowly she reached toward the magnificent female.

Hope sensed the change in atmosphere and looked up to eye Hermione’s approaching fingertips. Her left ear twitched as the leaf that she was chewing wiggled its way into her mouth until it disappeared. She stretched her neck toward the outstretched fingers and sniffed them.

Hermione was barely able to conceal her laugh of triumph as she stroked the animal’s head. Yes, she had pet her before, but that time Hope had been in death’s throws, so Hermione didn’t think that that time should count.

“You have no idea how relieved I am that you are safe ma petite. I met some horrible men in the woods, and I think they were the ones that hurt you yesterday. I took every precaution to ensure that they would never hurt you again, but with how these last few days have gone, you never know, so if you could just stay close to the cabin to be sure. . . I couldn’t bare it if you were wounded again.”

She sighed, she must be losing her mind, talking to an animal and actually having hope that it would understand her. She looked into the doe’s expressive brown eyes and smiled. She scratched her one last time behind her ear and sighed and turned to enter the darkness waiting for her inside.

“Professor, are you here?”

“Obviously.”

“Are you alright?”

“As well as can be expected. You weren’t alone out there,” he stated.

Hermione smiled. “No, I wasn’t alone.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Is what wise?”

“I was under the impression that we were in hiding.”

Hermione giggled. “Don’t worry, Professor. She won’t say anything.”

“You’re so sure?”

“Positive.”

Hermione had a sudden desire to introduce this man to her four legged friend.

She made her way to Snape and grabbed his hand excitedly. “Follow me, Professor.”

He allowed her to assist him to his feet. She sounded so excited. How could he deny her this, after all that she had done for him? He followed willingly until he heard the front door squeak as Hermione pulled it open.

Severus stopped short and pulled her back. The sudden stop made Hermione lose her balance and she stumbled backward.

Strong arms held her up and she felt as though she had just been electrocuted as heat traveled up and down her spine.

Embarrassed by the fact that Severus’ hands were holding her up in very intimate places, and even more embarrassed that she felt comfortable, she cleared her throat and quickly regained her balance.

“Is everything alright, Professor?” Her voice cracked on the last word. “Why did you stop?”

“You were taking me outside,” he stated icily.

‘Oh,’ she thought. ‘He’s worried about the pain.’ “Don’t worry, Professor. You won’t feel a thing. I promise.”

“It is not my discomfort that concerns me, Miss Granger. Until we discover what it is about your charm that causes you pain, I will not allow you to use it on me.”

“But. . .”

“But, nothing, Miss Granger. I will not be the cause of your pain.” He sounded almost as if he were begging, but that couldn’t be so.

Hermione sighed. Perhaps it was just as well. Hope was probably long gone by now anyway. But she would have her say. “Your concern is utterly preposterous. I’m fine. I’ve been performing this charm for three and a half years now, the headache is nothing, really.”

‘How can she even think that? I could sense how uncomfortable she was, and it was not nothing!’ he thought.

He allowed the coldness to seep back into his voice. “Your breathing gave you away, Miss Granger. I heard how much pain you were in, and it was not nothing. Tell me something, have you researched this spell of yours? Do you have any idea of the damage you could be causing yourself?”

Hermione cut him off. “It’s just a headache, Professor. . .”

“Can you be positively sure? You’ve researched this then?”

“Well, no, but I’ve had headaches before, everyone. . .”

“Headaches that cannot be dispelled, but with time?” He took a deep breath and continued. “Many people, Muggles and Wizards alike, have made the assumption that ‘It’s just a headache, it will pass’. Do you care to guess where some of those people are now, Miss Granger?”

When she remained silent, he continued, accentuating each word, “Six. . .Feet. . .Under!”

He heard Hermione gulp loudly.

“I thought you were bright, Miss Granger. Apparently I came to the wrong assumption myself.”

Hermione stiffened. ‘How dare he insult my intelligence!’ “Excuse me?!” she hissed angrily, putting just as much ice as Snape had a moment ago, in her own voice. “I don’t think I heard you correctly. It sounded like you were insulting me!”

“Very good, Miss Granger. Yes, I was indeed referring to your apparent lack of intelligence on this matter.”

Hermione fumed. “Well if that’s what you think. . .”

“It is,” he declared calmly.

“Fine! You can just take care of yourself then! I’m leaving!”

“If I would have known it was really that easy, I would have commented this morning.”

“Yes, and then you would be somewhere with Rudolphus Lestrange right now, sipping tea with your pinkies raised!” she shot icily.

She opened the front door as wide as it would go, letting the sunlight stream in and fill every corner of the front room.

Severus gasped and cried in torment and grabbed his head as he fell to the ground.

Hermione stomped out angrily and slammed the door behind her.

That was very childish of her and she knew it. Never before had she purposely attacked an innocent person. Now she felt horrible, and for the life of her she couldn’t understand what had made her react so harshly.

Suddenly, the expression ‘The truth hurts,’ flitted through her mind, harder to ignore than a bright, flashing neon sign on a deserted country road at midnight.

She let out a deep sigh. She had never thought about it before. But Snape was right. It was foolish, careless in the extreme, to not thoroughly research the spell she had invented. Were the headaches causing permanent damage? Would she fall over from a brain aneurysm or something?

She sat down heavily on the bottom step of the porch, so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Hope approach her. Hermione jumped when Hope rustled the bushes directly to her right.

“You startled me, little one.” She reached out absentmindedly and gently stroked the animal’s head once to acknowledge her. She clutched her hands together and placed her elbows on her knees. She stared blankly at the mountain range opposite her for a moment then clasped her head in her hands and stared at the ground.

A small grasshopper was losing a battle with an army of ants.

Right now, she felt like that grasshopper. She was in a battle of sorts, and she didn’t feel that there was any way she could win. How could she help a man that didn’t want help? Snape’s attitude hadn’t changed in the least. He was still the sarcastic antagonist he had always been.

As soon as she thought the words, they felt all wrong. Sarcastic? Yes, he would always be that, Hermione was sure. Antagonist? No, he wasn’t an enemy. He seemed genuinely concerned about her. She sighed and thought bitterly, ‘And I blew up at him and hurt him terribly! What kind of person am I?’

She stood determinedly, and placed her hand on the doorknob. Very slowly, she opened the door just wide enough to let herself through.

Severus had managed to make his way back to an armchair. He was sitting as still as a statue, ignoring the approach she was sure he could hear.




Hey everyone, sorry this chapter has taken so long, and that it's pretty short. Hopefully I'll be able to get you another chapter soon.

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Dayna

“Professor?” Hermione called timidly.

No answer.

“Professor. . .”

Still, no answer, so Hermione just dove into her apology. “Look. . . I’m really sorry. You’re right. It was foolish to not research it. And childish to retaliate like I did. It won’t happen again. I’m sorry that I hurt you when you were only trying to protect me.”

She took a step forward. “Professor?”

His silence and stillness was making her nervous. Was he okay? Did she kill him?

She hurried forward in the darkness and in her haste tripped over the end table to the side of the chair Severus was occupying and into his lap. He didn’t move, but she felt comforted by the fact that she could feel his chest rising and falling and his muscles stiffen as she tried to collect her bearings and scramble her way off of him.

Blushing furiously and eternally grateful that it was dark and that he couldn’t see her regardless, she cleared her throat and said, “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go make us some supper.”

She rushed to the kitchen as fast as she was able in the blackness and flipped the switch, bathing the room in light. She blinked rapidly a few times while her eyes adjusted to the brightness and made her way to the refrigerator.

She pulled out some chicken and potatoes and set to work preparing them.

Thirty minutes later, Hermione returned to the darkened living room and carefully walked to where Severus had been sitting and placed his food on the table in front of him.

“Here you are, Professor. There’s roast chicken and potatoes with a side of green beans. If you need anything, please just call. I’ll be in the kitchen.” She hurried back to the kitchen and sat heavily onto an old wooden table chair. She pushed her food around with her fork, her appetite non-existent, for a moment before shoving her plate away from her and leaning back in her chair.

Yes, she had been childish to behave as she had. But this silent treatment was driving her mad! She stood slowly, placed her supper in the refrigerator to save it for later, and stepped out the back door for some fresh air. The thought that she had told Snape to call if he needed anything flashed through her mind, but just as quickly it was overshadowed by the knowledge that he wouldn’t do so, even if he were in dire need. He was much too proud. Besides, she wouldn’t be gone long, she didn’t even plan on letting the cabin out of her sight. She strolled down the path that led to a frog pond. She sat on a fallen tree that bordered the clear water and stared into it.


Tadpoles adorned the bottom of the shallow pool, disturbing the mud in an attempt at finding their next meal. She smiled at the memory of her childhood that appeared in her mind’s eye. She was five and was covered head to toe in mud as she lay on her stomach on the bank of the water with an empty jar in one hand and a plastic cup in her other. She remembered the feeling of triumph that overcame her young soul when she captured a wiggling tadpole that was halfway developed into a frog. She had tripped in her excitement to run to her father to show him and had spilled her capture into the tall grass and was unable to find it again. She was so devastated that her father had spent the rest of the afternoon with her on his stomach, his arms buried to his elbows in the tepid water. At the end of the day they had over fifty. Her mother was furious when she had gone into the bathroom that evening to bathe and found every one of the baby frogs in her bathtub.

Hermione came out of her reverie and looked up at the sky. The clouds above her were beginning to pull together and darken. Already the sky in the distance was nearly as black as night. Another storm would be upon them soon. As if on cue, a flash of lightning danced across the sky, momentarily lighting the distant gloominess with a brilliant purple glow.

Hermione stood and hugged herself tightly while she briskly rubbed her arms. The temperature was quickly dropping and she had a sudden desire to go to her bedroom upstairs and change into her favorite baggy sweats and curl up in her favorite sofa by the window with a cup of hot coffee and a fuzzy blanket to watch nature’s show.

The thunder rolled and she felt the vibration in the earth under her feet. She turned toward her cabin and started back to the guaranteed dryness and the warmth that a crackling fire would promise.

She felt the first of the raindrops hit her nose and watched them mark the dirt path with gathering speed.

She went back to the rear of the cabin and entered the way she had left and the lingering aroma from the roast chicken hit her nostrils. She crossed rooms to check on her guest. She stopped in the darkened room to let her eyes adjust before making her way toward Snape.

“Are you alright, Professor? Can I get you anything?” she asked politely.

“No. Thank you. Although if you could point me in the direction of the bathroom, I would be greatly appreciative.”

Her eyes widened. She wasn’t expecting an answer, but was strangely relieved that he had decided to speak to her again. “Oh, of course.” She took his hand and helped him stand. She decided to once again seek his forgiveness for her earlier actions. “I’m sorry for how I acted this afternoon, Professor. I hope you can forgive me.”

“It is done.”

She pulled her eyebrows together, slightly confused. Was she forgiven? She didn’t want to press her luck so she mumbled a quiet, “Yes, I suppose it is,” and pulled him into the main floor bathroom. “Here it is, Professor. I trust you can find your way around.”

“Indeed. Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome.” She ducked around him and ran upstairs to change into her sweats. She gathered her hair to the back of her head in a ponytail, only pulling it halfway through the elastic on the last pull to keep her long hair off of her neck. She donned her fluffiest pair of socks and padded her way back downstairs to stand next to the bathroom door, waiting to assist Snape back to his seat.

She heard the toilet flush and some fumbling around. Something fell to the floor with a loud thunk, followed by low, angry cussing. Moments later she heard the faucet turn on then shut off. She stepped back as the door knob rattled and the door pulled backwards.

Hermione cleared her throat and said, “Can I help you back to your seat, Sir?”

“How long will we be here at this place of yours, Miss Granger?”

“I’m not sure, Professor. I suppose we’ll be here a while. I’m not about to send you back to your Hogwarts quarters until I figure out why, in Merlin’s name, Lestrange was wandering around free. You’re safe here.”

“I won’t pretend to know why you feel you need to protect me, but if we are to be here for more than a day or so, don’t you think it would be best if I learned my way around? How will I be able to do that when you insist on escorting me everywhere? I am quite capable of feeling my way back to my seat. I’m not a child, Miss Granger.”

His tone made her feel silly, like she was sitting at a desk in his dungeon classroom again. She could think of nothing clever to say so she settled for saying, “Yes, Sir.”

She fell into step behind him, her arms braced in front of her, ready to catch him should he stumble. She looked much like a mother who was following her child that was just learning to walk.

“I appreciate your concern, Miss Granger. But I can assure you that I am quite capable of walking across a room. There is no need to follow as you’re doing.”

Hermione stopped short. How did he know she was following him?

He stopped and gave a short humorless chuckle and as if he could read her mind he said, “My eyesight is the only thing that was damaged by the curse. My hearing, and every other sense for that matter, is better than it ever was.” He started forward once more, his arms in front of him feeling the air around him. “It would be helpful for you to breathe, Miss Granger. I don’t know if I could save you should you pass out.”

Hermione hadn’t noticed that she was holding her breath. She released the air from her lungs in a long rush.

Thunder rumbled, causing her mother’s china cabinet to rattle. Hermione jumped at the closeness of the sound. She loved thunderstorms, but when they got too close, they always made her a little jumpy.

She stayed behind Snape, though not as closely, until he was able to find his way back to his seat, then silently she went to the sofa that sat against the wall beneath the main window. She sank sideways into the cushions and bent her knees to her chest, one arm hugging her legs while her free hand pushed the curtains aside just enough for her to peer through. Lightning danced, bathing the darkening sky in an eery glow. Hermione began counting in her head. She hadn’t even finished counting ‘one’ when the thunder once again shook the cabin. The roar was deafening and an involuntary shiver ran down her spine. She pulled the thick fluffy afghan from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around her. It was crocheted in earth colors. Her mother had made it especially for this place. The browns and greens and blues and cream colors were woven together in a graceful manner and the pattern was extremely soothing.

“What are you seeing?” .

The voice was soft and gentle, and Hermione wasn’t sure she had heard him right. “Excuse me?” she asked.

“Tell me what you see?” asked Severus longingly.

The request tugged at her heart and she had to swallow an unexpected lump. “Oh, er. . . um. . . Well, I see a thunderstorm.”

“Come now, Miss Granger. I worked out that a thunderstorm was going on all on my own. You can do better than that. I want to see what you are seeing. Indulge me if you will.”

“Ok, well, the wild flowers are dancing in the rain and wind. . .”

“What color are they?”

Hermione smiled and decided that she would paint him a mental picture as vividly as she could. She wouldn’t leave a single detail untold. “They are every color. Periwinkle and lavender. Oranges, yellows and reds of every varying shade. Violet, blue and indigo and of course, white.” Lightning flashed again and she began counting in her head as she said, “The lightning just flashed, dancing across the sky, turning it to a brilliant color of purple.”

The thunder crashed. “Hope?” she whispered under her breath when she saw her pacing nervously. The doe was spooked. She was beneath a large willow tree, her ears perked, her head jerking from side to side. The lightning and thunder were extremely close, less than ten miles away. She never gave a thought to what thunderstorms were like for animals until now. They had to be frightened when it got too loud.

“Excuse me?” asked Severus. “Hope?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. It’s my friend. She’s out there alone and she’s frightened.”

“Your friend? Why don’t you let her come in? Are you so ashamed of having me here that you would force a friend to stay out in this weather?” He sounded shocked that she would do such a thing.

“Oh. . . no, Sir, of course not. She could come in if she wished to. But I think she would be more frightened to be in here than out there.”

The answer confused Severus. “She is frightened of me, perhaps? Was she a student?”

Hermione giggled. “No, Sir. She’s never been to Hogwarts, and she’s never heard of you, although, I don’t think you are nearly as frightening as you think you are.”

The corners of Snape’s mouth twitched. “Then I suppose I will have to work a bit harder to make it so. But if she is not frightened of me, then it must be you. Yet you call her friend?”

“She is my friend, Sir. I’ll tell you what she’s like. She has big, beautiful brown eyes, the color of warm sepia. Her hair is a beautiful, dark amber color. She is very graceful in her movements, she walks among the wildlife without so much as startling a squirrel. You will rarely hear her approach you, unless she wants you to, but it is not easy to gain her trust, so she most likely wouldn't approach you in the first place. She runs with the wind and can jump a fallen tree with ease. But most of all, she seems to know when I need her the most. I met her by the lake a few weeks ago. I’ve just barely gained her trust the other day when I saved her from a bullet that a couple of poachers put in her. She has been hanging around my cabin ever since.”

“A doe,” he stated softly.

Hermione nodded, then realizing her mistake she said, “Yes, and she’s breathtaking.”

“She was who you were talking to outside earlier.”

“Yes. I was hoping to introduce you. That’s where I was taking you before. . .” She let her sentence trail off. She didn’t want to remember how she had acted earlier.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

Hermione started slightly when she looked up and saw the towering form of her old potions professor standing above her. She had been looking outside and didn't hear his approach. She scooted back a little and scrunched her feet closer to herself to make more room. “Of course I don’t mind. Please, sit.”

He lowered himself carefully as to not sit on Hermione. “Will you tell me more of the scenery?”

Though his eyes were bandaged, Hermione could tell that if they weren’t they would be boring into her, as if penetrating her soul. “Of course, Sir.” She once again peered through the gape she had made in the curtains. “The emerald green trees look as though they have their faces pressed against the sky, to capture every drop of rain they can get. Their branches look as arms. They are swaying to the music of the wind. There is a pond several yards from here. It looks as if it is boiling and the lily pads are trying to escape unscathed.”

She didn’t have warning of the coming thunder, for when the lightning hit a tree in front of the cabin, the deafening blast boomed.

Though she was not prone to fear, after everything she had been through with the war, she screamed, and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She had never seen what lightning did when it hit. The result terrified her. The giant tree, that was moments ago, green, was now black and smoldering. She had no doubt that had the tree been dry there would be a major forest fire right now. She barely had time to wrap her mind around the blackened tree when once again lightning hit a tree in front of them. This one was just on the opposite side of the pond. Hermione grabbed the sides of her head, covering her ears trying to block out the sound. She tried to stifle a frightened sob, she closed her eyes tightly in an attempt to block out the blinding light. It was impossible, the light was branded in her retinas, closing her eyes only made the image brighter. She put her head on her knees and began rocking slightly, trying desperately not to cry, and praying that the storm would move away from her sanctuary, to turn the beauty and awe of a lightning storm into something she could once again love. Although she doubted that she could ever watch them the same way again. Again the sky was lit and the thunder boomed. She didn’t see where it hit this time. Another scream escaped her, and she began rocking faster.

A gentle hand brushed her shoulder and rested at her elbow. She was eternally grateful that he could not see the tears threatening to spill.

“Shh, Miss Granger. It cannot hurt us while we are in here.”

She looked up at him in awe. The lightning was so bright, and she could not understand why he wasn’t in pain. She pushed her fears to the back of her mind and rose to her knees. She looked at him intently. “Are you alright, Professor? Are you in pain?”

He shook his head.

“Could you see the light from the lightning?”

“Yes,” he said it curiously, he hadn’t thought about it. He had been too worried about Hermione to think about anything else.

Hermione’s hands fidgeted with the air around Snape’s head, wanting to touch him, but not knowing how he would take it. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, Miss Granger.” He raised his hands and caught Hermione’s easily. “Now if you would please stop waving your hands around my head before I catch a chill. I can assure you that my head is not on fire.”

“Oh, sorry,” she mumbled. She didn’t pull her hands out of his, and the warmth of them seeped through her skin to her bones.

He dropped them then and they suddenly felt heavy to her. She folded them and placed them in her lap.

“What do you think it means, Professor, that the light didn’t hurt you? Do you think you’re cured?”

“I don’t know what it means, Miss Granger, but I honestly do not think that I’ve been cured.”




Sorry for being the worst updater in history. I didn't really know where to take the story from chapter 4. But I decided that it was high time I updated, so I just sat down and let my fingers do the work.

I hope you liked it and I hope that you'll leave me some feedback.

~Dayna

Hermione laid awake in bed that night long after the thunderstorm had passed, her mind working overtime. The rain outside was pounding a fierce rhythm on her window. She thought about the now blackened trees right outside the cabin. She thought about Hope, outside alone and frightened. But strongest in her mind was Severus Snape. The lightning had flooded the room, despite the curtains covering the window, and he had seen it! He had seen the light and not suffered torturing pain! How could that have been?

She rolled onto her other side, frustrated that sleep would not come, and frustrated that she could not figure this curse out. There had to be someone, somewhere, who could tell them what to do to lift it. She sighed and put a pillow over her head in an attempt to quiet her thoughts.

What was Lestrange doing in Hogsmeade? And dressed as a St. Mungo’s healer. . . Lestrange. . . She shivered. Bile rose in her throat as she remembered the feel of his touch on her face. She groaned in agitation and sat up. She hugged the pillow that had been over her face and brought her knees to her chest. Lestrange. . . Lestrange. . . She was missing something. Something important. . . What had he said? Something about the Dark Lord and the curse. She sighed and climbed out of bed. She paced the length of her room, chewing a fingernail in thought. Her thoughts were all jumbled. She siphoned through them, reaching for the one she needed and pushed the rest of them to the back of her mind.

It came to her then. . . ‘The Dark Lord tried this curse on me, and the pain the light caused was worse than the Cruciatus.’ Voldemort had used this curse on Lestrange. Lestrange was just fine, which means that there is definitely a counter curse! She felt elated. Snape's condition didn’t have to be permanent. If only she could find the counter curse. . . She doubted that the counter curse would be in a book, Voldemort himself had invented it. She sighed and stomped to her bed and sat down heavily. She rested her elbows on her knees and placed her head in her hands. She couldn’t just ask Lestrange the counter curse. Could she trap him somehow? And maybe give him veritaserum, because there would be no way he would offer the information willingly.

She yawned and looked at her clock. It was nearing 4:00. She had been up for over twenty-four hours with only a short nap in the afternoon and it was beginning to catch up to her. She ran a weary hand through her hair and lifted her feet onto her bed. She pulled the coverlet over herself and lowered herself onto her pillows. Her mind was finally beginning to slow, or at least her thoughts weren’t being quite as loud. At last sleep found her.

The sun streamed through her window a few hours later. She rubbed her eyes and yawned sleepily, almost more tired than before she went to sleep. She curled herself into the fetal position and hugged her pillow tightly. The epiphany she had had last night floated to the forefront of her mind again. Her eyes snapped open and she sat up. She climbed out of bed and put on her fluffiest, sea foam green bath robe and slippers and bolted down stairs.

“Professor!” she called loudly. She stopped as she reached the landing. She could hear water running. She padded to the bathroom door to listen, he was in the shower. She turned to go into the kitchen to start breakfast. She started the coffee then pulled bacon and eggs from the refrigerator and retrieved a pan from a cupboard. She cut up a couple of potatoes and threw them into a pan to fry. Before long the sounds and aroma of coffee and frying bacon filled the air. She put some bread in the toaster and filled a couple of plates and two mugs of coffee, one of them black, the other with cream, sugar and a tablespoon of chocolate. She buttered the toast and put them on the plates.

She opened the door and stuck her head into the main room to see if Snape had finished in the bathroom. “Professor?” she asked.

“I’m here,” he answered softly.

“Good, I’ll be right back.” She picked up his breakfast and coffee and stepped into the darkness. She walked to the armchair that seemed to have been adopted by him and placed the steaming plate and coffee on the end table next to it. “Your breakfast,” she said quietly.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She hurried as quickly as she could in the darkness, she was getting much better at maneuvering in it, and fetched her own breakfast. She would breakfast with Snape this morning. She had to run her thoughts by him, and if she didn’t do it soon she felt she would explode. “Professor, do you have any idea why Lestrange was in Hogsmeade yesterday? I thought he was in Azkaban.”

“I have no idea why how he came to be in Hogsmeade. The last I had heard he was in Azkaban. Of course, breakouts have happened in the past. And now that the dementors are no longer guarding it. . .” He let his sentence trail off. It didn’t make sense. Kingsley Shacklebolt had other methods of preventing breakouts. They had a way of striping criminals of their powers, and the rumors were that they were more powerful than the dementors could have ever been. So how? How did Lestrange escape? Severus knew that there were still Death Eaters at large. The ministry was still on the look out for the handful that had avoided capture that fateful night. It could be possible, he supposed, with years of serious planning, to aid a fellow Death Eater in escaping. But they had had years to plan. Six years to be exact. But surely the Daily Prophet would have said something had there been an escape. “Miss Granger, have you read the Daily Prophet recently?”

Hermione took a sip of her mocha, savoring the rich flavor and allowing it to warm her insides.

“Er. . . well, no. I haven’t.” She chided herself, she hadn’t thought about the wizarding newspaper since the day before yesterday. Yesterday had all happened so fast and it hadn’t even crossed her mind. Of course it would be in the paper that Lestrange had escaped.

She ran upstairs and opened her bedroom window. She had a perch there for the owls along with a bowl of owl treats and a bowl of water. There were two rolled up papers lying there. She quickly unrolled one and looked at the date. Having opened today’s first, she opened the other.

She gasped. A large photo of Lestrange’s face was laughing out at her. It reminded her of when Sirius’ face had been plastered there. She had hurried out of the cabin yesterday before looking at the paper. She hurriedly read the article.

Convicted Death Eater, Rudolphus Lestrange, escaped!

Ministry officials have given report that the husband of the late Bellatrix Lestrange, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s most loyal follower, Rudolphus Lestrange, has broken out of the wizard prison, Azkaban before sunrise this morning. Guards found his cell empty when they entered to deliver his breakfast. There is no news of how he escaped. Lestrange is highly dangerous and witches and wizards would do well to take caution until he is once again apprehended.

Hermione chewed lightly on her bottom lip. How did he get out? She shook her head to clear her thoughts and picked up the other paper.

Three St.Mungo’s Healers found dead in an alley in Hogsmeade!

Three Healers from St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries were found dead in an abandoned alleyway in Hogsmeade yesterday afternoon. The healers were stripped of their clothing and hidden behind large rubbish barrels. It is believed to be the work of escaped Death Eater, Rudolphus Lestrange.

Eyewitnesses have said that they saw three men in white coats at the gates of Hogwarts yesterday morning, talking to none other than Harry Potter’s good friend, Hermione Granger along with Severus Snape, ex-professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The whereabouts of Miss Granger and Severus Snape are unknown. As is the location of the three other men.

“I went out to see what was going on,” states an eyewitness who wished to remain anonymous. “But as I stepped out of my door, they disapparated. I’m positive it was Lestrange. But I don’t know who the other two were.”

If anyone knows of the whereabouts of any of the above mentioned people, please contact the Ministry of Magic.

Hermione jumped in alarm as an owl flew through her open window and perched on her shoulder and stuck out its leg. She recognized the owl as Harry’s. “Well hello there, Percival.” She scratched his head and untied the scroll. There were only three words on it.

Are you safe?

Hermione took a quill from her desk and quickly scrawled her answer.

Yes

She retied the parchment onto Percival’s leg and said, “Give my love to Harry and Ginny.” The owl gave a soft hoot and nibbled lightly at Hermione’s ear before taking flight.

She rose from her seat, dressed herself in faded jeans and a light t-shirt and started back downstairs to share her information with Snape.

“Professor?” she called.

“Yes?”

“The Daily Prophet has reported that Lestrange has indeed escaped Azkaban, but they don’t know how. They also said that the bodies of three St. Mungo’s healers were found in an alley in Hogsmeade yesterday.”

She saw the shadow of Snape nod once, acknowledging that he had heard her. She decided that she would run her thoughts past him now. “Professor?”

“Yes?” he said again.

“I was thinking last night. Well, I was thinking, well. . . er. . . Do you think there would be anyway I could trap Lestrange and get him to tell us the counter curse?” The moment the words escaped her mouth she heard how foolish they sounded.

“Trap Lestrange?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes, it’s foolish, I realize it. There is absolutely no way it could be done,” she said it dejectedly, embarrassed that she could even have thought it plausible.

“Tell me, Miss Granger, why would you think that Lestrange would know the counter curse?” he asked, curious now.

“Well, he said so, sort of. He said that Voldemort had used the curse on him. He was obviously not in any pain, therefore there must be a counter curse. Perhaps Lestrange knows it.”

Severus scratched his chin in thought, but shook his head again. “The same thought occurred to me. But it is doubtful that Lestrange knows the counter curse. It was probably done non-verbally.”

“Is it possible that he told someone? Anyone?” she asked without much hope.

“Anything is possible, Miss Granger.”

“Do you remember the curse? What Voldemort said?”

“Like it was yesterday,” he said sadly. “Lumen exoculare morsus.”

“Light blinding pain,” Hermione said, mostly to herself.

“Yes.”

“Tell me, Professor. Who might know of the counter curse?”

“The only ones that would even possibly know it are Death Eaters, and they would be more than unlikely to help.”

Hermione chewed her fingernail, thinking. An idea came to her. But surely Snape had already thought of it. “Reformed Death Eaters?”

Snape’s head snapped up. “What was that?”

“Are there any that may know the counter curse that are no longer loyal to the dark arts? I mean, there are several that were close to Voldemort that are no longer practicing the dark arts. What about the Malfoys?”

Severus shook his head. “Lucius Malfoy wouldn’t know it. And even if he did, I don’t think he would give it freely.”

“Why? Didn’t he swear off the dark arts? Wouldn’t he want to help his old friend?”

“From what I’ve heard, yes, he swore them off, again. But it is highly unlikely that the Dark Lord would have given Lucius the counter curse.”

“Hmm. . .” was all she said. She wasn’t going to rule the Malfoys out. “Professor, would you mind if I stepped out this afternoon? I need to go to the library. There are strong safeguards around the cabin. You will be safe. I will darken the entire ground floor so you don’t unwittingly go into a lightened room, as long as you don’t go upstairs. Please make yourself at home. I will be back as quickly as I can.” Then remembering her plate of food in the fridge from last night, she said, “The kitchen door is just to the right of the bathroom. There is a plate of left over chicken and potatoes from last night in the refrigerator.” She quickly entered the kitchen and darkened it.

She returned to the main room and stepped to her fireplace she quickly built a small fire, one so small that it wouldn’t give enough light to hurt her guest. “Have you any theories as to why you weren’t hurt by the light from the storm last night?”

“A few, but they are vague. Go, but Miss Granger, do be careful. Your kindness is undeserved and if anything happened to you I don’t know if I could ever forgive myself.” The words had slipped out before he could stop them. What was he thinking, telling her that?

Hermione smiled shyly. “I’ll be careful, Professor. I promise. I’ll be back soon.” She grabbed her jar of floo powder and sprinkled it in the fireplace. She stuck her head in and said, “Headmistress office, Hogwarts!” Her head spun dizzily and when it stopped, she was looking up into the round office. McGonagall was sitting at her desk. “Professor!”

McGonagall jumped and turned to her fire. “Oh, Miss Granger, you gave me a fright. You’re safe! Thank heavens!”

“Can I come through your fire?”

“Of course, of course.”

Hermione’s head disappeared for a moment then her entire body stepped neatly onto the hearth of her old professor’s fireplace.



I hope you all enjoyed chapter 6.

Please leave feedback here! All feedback is greatly appreciated.

Love to all,
~Dayna

Hermione spent the afternoon in earnest searching. She had searched the Hogwarts library from top to bottom and had come up empty handed. She then contacted Kingsley Shackelbolt to ask permission to search the ministry’s restricted library. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair and rubbed the bridge of her nose. There was a soft knock on the door then it squeaked open.

“Any luck?” asked Kingsley.

“No. None. I can’t find anything that would be helpful.” She stood and replaced the book she had been perusing. “I know there’s a cure,” she mused aloud.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Lestrange said that The Dark Lord had used the curse on him.” She put her hands on her lower back and stretched her aching muscles.

“Any word on him?” she asked.

“Unfortunately we haven’t had any real leads.”

Hermione shook her head, “This can’t be happening again! I thought I was through with living in fear. I know that Lestrange is no Voldemort, but he’s going to be after Snape, and he’s no fuzzy kitten. I have to keep Snape safe, and I have to find the counter curse.” She sighed wearily and said to no one, “Maybe I could invent my own counter curse for it.”

“Hermione, you’re talking nonsense. The only way to undo the curse that has been placed on Snape is to repeat the exact words the creator invented. You, of all people, should know that.”

Hermione became incensed in desperation. “Tell me, then! What am I supposed to do?! I have a Death Eater after my client and I, who happens to be the only other known person to have had this curse placed on him! A curse that, by all normal standards, should have been lifted when Voldemort was defeated!” She sighed and plopped back onto her chair, feeling wearier than she had felt in a very long time. “There has to be a way,” she finished softly.

“May I ask you something?” Kingsley asked tentatively.

Hermione didn’t answer, but looked at Kingsley expectantly.

“Why do you care so much about what happens to him? I was always under the impression that you didn’t like Severus.”

She considered his question before answering. “Harry didn’t like him. I’ve never really had a quarrel with him. Even if I had, though, I would still want to help him. His life is worth as much as anyone’s, and I will not stand by and watch it go to waste! Even Harry would want to do whatever he could to help Snape, no matter the quarrel.”

Kingsly smiled sadly. “That’s what makes you such a great counselor.” He shook his head and studied the floor in front of him. “I admire your dedication, Hermione. I wish some of the ministry employees were half as determined as you. I wish you luck, and if there is anything I can help you with, please, all you have to do is ask.”

“Thank you, Minister.” She stood to shake his hand.

She watched him leave the room and she turned to continue her search. Her eyes fell on a book that she had somehow overlooked before. Everlasting Magic: What You Need To Know. She pulled it from the shelf and sat down. She ran her finger down the index until she found the chapter on curses.

Of all curses, the most dangerous and difficult to achieve is that of everlasting curses (ie: curses that continue to hold their power even after the castor has fallen).

The easiest and safest way to lift an everlasting curse is to, naturally, repeat the counter curse. On the other hand, if the castor has fallen and one wishes to lift the curse when the counter curse is unknown, take heed. It is a very sticky business and in most cases witches and wizards will cause more harm than good.

Hermione’s mind soared. This was it! There was a long list of recipes for poultices and potions. Granted, every one of them was more complicated than anything she had ever made. But with Snape’s help, it would be simple. She was sure of that.

She placed a disillusionment charm over herself and the book and set out. She didn’t want anyone else to know where she was. Lestrange knew that Snape was with her and she wasn’t sure who all she could trust. So far, only Minerva and Kingsley knew. She trusted them implicitly.

She stopped back at Kingsley’s office to say goodbye before going back to Hogwarts. There was one more favor she needed to ask of McGonagall.

Forty-five minutes later, Hermione stood in a dark, abandoned corner of Diagon Alley, a phial of thick, mud-like potion in her hand. With her other, she dropped a few gray hairs into it. It bubbled and frothed and turned to a bright emerald green.

She quickly swallowed the contents of the phial and shuddered as her insides began to writhe. She grew several inches and watched as age spots and wrinkles appeared on her hands. Within moments the transformation was complete and anyone she came across would see no one but the Headmistress of Hogwarts.

She looked around to make sure she was still alone before pulling on the robes that McGonagall had loaned her. She pulled the list of ingredients out of her handbag and set off for the apothecary.


“Professor McGonagall?”

Hermione spun on her heels. She would know that voice anywhere. Her heart stuttered and sank to the pit of her stomach. She had thought her feelings for him had diminished to nothing but friendship. She swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat at the sight of him.

“Mr. Weasley. This is a surprise.”

“What are you doing in Diagon Alley?” he asked. His arm was wrapped tightly around the girl that Hermione had seen him with on occasion.

“I believe that is not really any of your concern.” Oh how she wanted to throw herself into his arms. He may be a bumbling fool, but he had been her bumbling fool for seven years. She missed being held and cuddled. She missed having someone to talk to outside of work. She missed feeling loved and wanted.

“Right, well anyways. . . Have you met my fiancé?”

The lump in her throat grew to an impossible-to-swallow size. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she merely shook her head.

Ron beamed and looked lovingly at the girl by his side. “This is Jessica. She attended the Academy of Magic, in Italy. She moved to London a year ago and I met her when she came into Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, while I was working. That was about three and a half months ago.”

“That’s fast,” Hermione said. Her voice cracked. She hoped that Ron didn’t notice.

“Well, I’ve never been so in love. When you know it’s right, you don’t want to waste time.” He brightened again and said, “Oh, and George and Angelina are expecting.”

Hermione forced a smile onto her face. She knew about George and Angelina. Harry had told her. “Well, it’s good news for the Weasley family all around then. Congratulations,” she said feebly. “Good day, Mr Weasley.” She turned and put her knuckle to her mouth, biting it in an attempt to stem the tears that were threatening. She felt sick. I have never been so in love. She had thought that he loved her. What was it they shared, if not love? He had met Jessica before they had ended it between them. Had it been romantic from the very first? Or had Ron been faithful to the end? She desperately hoped it to be the latter.

She thought she had no more tears left for him. Yes, the split had been a mutual decision, but that didn’t make it easy, and it didn’t stop it from hurting. And the wound in her heart that had begun to heal nicely had just been cut open anew at the word fiancé.

She darted around a corner and sank to the ground, burying her head in her lap. The tears spilled over and her shoulders began to tremble. She allowed herself a few moments of heartache before sitting up straight and wiping her eyes. She took a deep calming breath and stood up. She had a lot to do and she had just wasted twenty precious minutes by talking to Ron and then losing control. She would need to hurry if she wanted to complete her shopping before she returned to her own appearance.

She looked at the list. She would need to go to Knockturn Alley to purchase some of the ingredients. She decided she had better go there first. If she was going to be caught in mid-transformation back into herself, she definitely didn’t want to do it in Knockturn Alley.

She turned onto the corner leading to the alley devoted to the dark arts, and shivered slightly. She had only been down there three other times in her life and she always had the sneaking suspicion that her every move was being watched. She took a deep breath and forced one foot in front of the other.

She turned another corner and pushed the door to Potions and Poisons open. A bell tinkled and the smell of rotting flesh filled her nostrils. She gagged and put a finger under her nose. She gave the list of dark ingredients to the decrepit old man behind the counter and waited while he gathered her supplies.

“Tricky, tricky, tricky. You must be up to something sticky with ingredients such as these. Acid worms, poisonous frog liver and sea snake venom.”

Hermione placed the galleons on the counter and took the box from the old man. “Thank you,” she said stiffly.

She stepped out into the fresh air and inhaled deeply. Even the dank air in Knockturn Alley was pleasantly clean smelling compared to the cramped confines of the little shop. She made her way hurriedly back to Diagon Alley.

She glanced at her watch and entered the apothecary. She only had fifteen minutes left before she returned to normal. The witch behind the counter was chatting animatedly with another customer. Hermione tapped her foot impatiently, glancing at her watch every few seconds. By the time the chatty customer had left, Hermione only had five minutes left.

“May I help you?” asked the friendly witch behind the counter.

“Yes,” Hermione said tersely. She shoved the list into the witch’s hand and stepped back.

The friendly demeanor of the witch disappeared at Hermione’s cold behavior. She quickly gathered the ingredients and placed them in a box. Hermione paid for them and took the box from the witch’s grip.

Hermione could feel herself shrinking. She hurried through the door and spun to Disapparate. She landed moments later on her front porch. She opened the door enough to let herself in.

“Professor?” she called excitedly. “I have some things that may help! But I’ll need your help, it could go terribly wrong if it’s done incorrectly.”

“Miss Granger, I’ve never known you to do anything incorrectly. But I’ll help however I can.”



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