Part Fourteen

AN: As always, Lariope, thank you so very, very much.

Hermione had seemed to be as interested as he was in taking their physical relationship a bit farther along, but then there had been the fidgeting and the nervous fingering of clothing after the neighboring menace had left, sending nonverbal messages as loud as any Simon had ever seen. It was as if she was afraid he would pounce on her like a cat did a mouse. If there was one thing he didn't want to appear to be, it was a fool. Wizards running after indifferent witches half their ages definitely qualified in his estimation.

Simon had never been a good sport about losing at anything, and as it was very unlikely he'd start being one at this stage in his life, it was a wonder that Hermione hadn't thrown him out with the nosy Mrs Carmichael. The elderly neighbor had successfully cooled his ardor with her pointed references to the obvious age difference between himself and Hermione; therefore, it was with an ill grace he agreed to eat dinner while sitting on Hermione's sofa.

He'd cast several glances in her direction while they dined, wondering exactly what Hermione stood to gain from their continued collaboration. She had other options, other wizards to spend her evenings with that weren't tarnished, weren't old and weren't basically hiding from the rest of the wizarding world. Weighing the pros and cons of what he considered they might be with each bite of chicken he ate, Simon finally put his container down on the small table in front of the couch and swallowed half a tumbler of Potter's discarded Ogden's at one go. The thought she might have been ashamed to be caught with him, doing what they'd been doing, made the burn of the alcohol as it ran down his throat welcome indeed.

"Tell me, Hermione. Are you of the same opinion as your cherished Mrs Carmichael?"

-~8~-

While it would have been easier to let the wine calm her nerves, Hermione had been serious when she wrote that she didn't want alcohol to influence her decision if – when – she decided to sleep with Simon.

In her mind, unless something truly unexpected were to crop up that evening, she would wait for the right moment and then broach the subject. They were obviously attracted to each other; she felt that they had a strong friendship and that their friendship could only be improved by taking the next step toward physical intimacy.

The fact that Simon could make her feel like her brain had turned to mush with just a few kisses might have had something to do with her decision.

Of course, telling herself that it was only logical conclusion during a quiet pep talk in the kitchen and putting it into action were two completely separate things.

She contemplated the glass of wine she'd been nursing since Simon had arrived and wondered if it was obvious that she had been growing more and more tense as the meal went on, nearly missing his question.

"Hmm? The same opinion about what?" Her mind sought out what bits of conversation she'd overheard before ushering her older neighbor out the door. Hermione set the remains of her dinner on the table to buy a few moments and tried to sort out what opinion he might be asking about. She leaned down to slip her shoes off, tucking her feet up on the sofa beneath her in an effort to relax.

"Oh, uh, well, I suppose so." She looked up at him. "Although I never really thought you'd be the type who would like spending the day visiting all those tourist traps, paying astronomical prices for food you could get much cheaper a block or two up the street, but if that's what you want, we could go sightseeing.

"Unless, you're talking about that whole old enough to be my uncle thing? Which is silly – my uncle Mort is sixty if he's a day, and I certainly wouldn't want to spend the evening with him. If you think dinner conversation with a pair of dentists is boring, they've got nothing on an appliance salesman. On the other hand, he did get me a rather nice deal on my washer and dryer."

-~8~-

"Oh, uh, well, I suppose so," almost made the bottom half of the tumbler of Ogden's rush to join the top, but Simon paused before the tumbler hit his lips and decided he didn't want to try and Apparate while completely intoxicated. If he'd been home and alone...

Due to Simon's almost total self-absorption, most of Mrs Carmichael's prattle had been ignored, and the rest discarded as of no consequence. Therefore, when Hermione mentioned paying astronomical prices for food and going sightseeing, he was completely at a loss as to what she was blathering on about. When she finally mentioned the part that had held his interest, she flummoxed him again by mentioning her washer and dryer.

One last good swallow of the Ogden's was taken before he sat it down next to the rest of his dinner.

"While I'm pleased to know you don't consider me old enough to be your uncle – why would I want to go sightseeing? I live here!" Simon said while standing and walking toward her kitchen to peer around the door frame.

"Where are they? I must admit I'm surprised, what with that S.P.A.W.N. movement you attempted to start at Hogwarts."

-~8~-

"I didn't know why you would want to go sightseeing, that's why I asked." Hermione stood and followed him.

Temperamental as a hedgehog and just as prickly; am I sure I want to spend more time with him?

"Where are who?" She edged past him, bumping into his form as she squeezed through the doorway. "It was S.P.E.W. – the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, thank you. Are you looking for elves?"

She rolled her eyes and pointed toward the back of her small kitchen at a pair of appliances stacked one atop the other. "Those are my washer and dryer, Simon."

Her head tilted to the side as she contemplated the man next to her. Ever since Mrs Carmichael's interruption, Simon had been acting oddly. Surely he wasn't taking her jabbering to heart?

Hermione reached out to pluck a bit of molted orange cat fur off of Simon's jumper and let her hand linger for a moment longer than necessary before moving away to approach her kitchen table and the notes and books piled on its surface. "Did I ever tell you how very relieved I was to find out that the man I'd been writing to all those months wasn't really the grandfather of one of my classmates?" she asked over her shoulder.

"When you told me how old you really were – let's just say it came as a great relief to know that the attraction I was beginning to feel wasn't as inappropriate as I'd feared, and that, perhaps, there was a chance that you might have been feeling it, too." Hermione felt her cheeks warm and turned away, thinking how much easier it had been to say those sorts of things on paper.

She gestured toward the table. "I've worked up some primary figures and equations with the notes you had sent me, and the answers are confusing at best. As far as I can tell, there's no reason that most of the treatments you've tried shouldn't have worked."

-~8~-

The sharp disappointment at learning Hermione hadn't been able to find any answers with her Arithmancy equations completely obliterated the smug feeling he'd experienced when she confessed relief at finding out he wasn't ancient. In an attempt to cover, Simon approached the cold looking metallic objects she'd pointed out and gingerly lifted the lid on the bottom one.

"It's of no consequence," Simon said briefly as he lowed the lid and turned to face her and the daunting pile of papers on the table. It was almost – humbling to see the extent of how hard she'd worked to try and help him. No one else, other than Dumbledore, who merely wanted his spy fully functional, had ever been bothered to go above and beyond what was expected of them. She had, and it was difficult for Simon to express how much that meant to him. To "confess" as she'd done a bit earlier was to reveal weaknesses and leave yourself open to attack.

"I expected no miracles, Hermione," Simon said gently as he walked back toward her. One hand lifted to caress the side of her face and touch again the softness of her hair. "You recall how difficult it was for me to accept your friendship, I trust? It wasn't nearly as difficult to acknowledge the fact I was very attracted to you. You've become a very beautiful, as well as extremely intelligent, witch. A quite lethal combination, actually. One that deserves a great deal from life."

Much more than you'll ever find with me cluttering up your time.

He blinked once, lowered his head and gave her a brief kiss.

"It's late. I should go before Mrs Carmichael becomes too concerned and pays you a return visit," Simon said with a small smirk.

-~8~-

Bugger Mrs Carmichael!

For a moment, she was afraid she might have actually said that out loud.

Simon thought she was beautiful and intelligent, and he wanted to leave. "No!"

Hermione cleared her throat and tried again, hoping to sound a bit less desperate. "No, it – it does matter. You've had these nightmares for years, decades really, and you've suffered all that time. There has to be a reason for it, don't you see?"

She'd begun in the hopes of keeping him in the flat a bit longer, but now that she'd started, Hermione was deadly serious. Concern impassioned her voice as she continued, staring earnestly up at him.

"What I was trying to say before was that if your notes were correct, and I have absolutely no reason to doubt that they were, your treatments should have worked, at least on a temporary basis. But they were hindered somehow, either not working as well as they were supposed to, or not at all.

"If your nightmares were just products of unconscious emotions and disturbing feelings, you should have been able to deal with them, but you can't. That's the missing variable!" Hermione rounded the table quickly, excitement at her breakthrough speeding up her words, making her resemble, for just a moment, the young girl she used to be. She pulled a long parchment covered in barely legible numbers and symbols that seemed to move about the page on their own and held it out to Simon across the table.

"That's what this formula was trying to tell me. Those can't be just dreams, Simon, not your own. You've been influenced somehow. A curse or a hex or ... I don't know, it could have even been a potion. But how? And how would the effects have remained for so long?"

Hermione returned to his side. "You've been looking for the wrong cure."

-~8~-

There was a reason – one he wasn't about to tell her. Guilt over his actions that had started the whole mess and ended up with his beloved Lily – who also happened to be the mother of one of Hermione's best friends' – dead, held his tongue tight. Hermione seemed to have some regard for him, and Simon would rather not have one more person in the world hating the very air he breathed. Especially one who knew so much about the new persona he'd donned.

Simon retained vague impressions of the memories he'd given over to Potter in the event he really did die, and he was counting on the boy wonder's integrity not to let the majority of them become public knowledge. The fact that the greasy bat of the dungeons had been in love with his mother should have sealed them forever, really.

Listening carefully as Hermione continued with a passion he hadn't seen in anyone for a very long time, Simon slowly began to shake his head in the negative.

"I understand what you're saying, Hermione, but you're wrong or have made a mistake in your equations. Something of that nature would involve using dark magic, and while I'm not invincible to be sure, I would have noticed."

-~8~-

He had a valid point, but Hermione knew deep down that she was on the right track.

"I may have made a mistake – that's certainly possible – but can you honestly tell me there was never a time when you let your guard down? You were under a lot of pressure while you were spying, had a lot on your mind. You had to sleep sometime, after all."

She looked down at the parchment in her hand with an uncertain expression on her face, one short nail tracing the progression of an equation as it danced across the page. "Perhaps – perhaps someone you trusted?" came out almost too softly to be heard.

Hermione lifted her head and carefully placed the parchment on the kitchen table. "I need more data to find the answer. If I'm wrong... What can it hurt to have looked and ruled the possibility out? And if I'm not, then we might be one step closer to finding a way to help you. Don't you want that, Simon?"

-~8~-

The only one he'd really trusted throughout the whole ordeal had been Dumbledore, and Merlin knew how many times that old bastard had tricked him into doing something he didn't want to, but the use of dark magic?

Albus wouldn't stoop that low, crossed his mind and was quickly followed by, Wouldn't he? Look what he was willing – hell, planned – to happen to Potter!

Simon shook his head vigorously this time and strode to look out one of Hermione's windows. In all the research he'd done, all the answers he'd looked for, there was one thing he hadn't considered. If, as Hermione suspected, this was the work of a potion or curse – and it was lifted or cured – Lily might not visit him at all any longer.

Do I want the nightmares to stop completely? It's all I have left of her.

The lie came easily to his tongue when he wasn't forced to peer into Hermione's face.

"Of course I do. Do you think I'm insane?"

Am I?

-~8~-

"No, I... That's not what I meant at all, Simon."

She sighed and pushed both hands through her hair. "Look, come sit with me. I'll refill your Ogden's, and we can make ourselves comfortable while we talk, all right?"

Hermione didn't wait to see if he'd object. She went back into the living room and picked up his glass, taking it to the side table where she'd left Harry's forgotten bottle earlier that evening. Once the glass was full again, she settled on to sofa and held it out toward him as an offering.

"Please?"

-~8~-

Simon turned finally to look at her, and while a muscle flexed in his jaw line, he fought the impulse telling him to flee. Flee the presence of this resourceful, intelligent witch. His breathing had increased, and the blood flowing through his veins had quickened in preparation for flight. Hermione now almost frightened him in a way that the Dark Lord never had. She stood ready, willing and possibly able to rip the last of Lily away from him.

Forever.

It looked cozy and inviting with her hand holding out the Ogden's, and his eyes narrowed as the image of the spider and the fly flew across his mind once more. A brow rose when Simon realized he was playing the part of the fly.

If I fly into her web – will I emerge intact or a dry husk without my Lily to sustain me?

Telling himself he was being stupid, Simon willed his legs to move in her direction. Sitting down, he took the glass and placed it on the low table. Now was not the time to be addle-headed with drink.

"What is there to talk about really?" he asked. "I've told you I don't recall anything that would indicate a potion or a curse was used."

-~8~-

He seemed reluctant, and she realized she was pushing more than she probably should, but then he joined her on the couch, and Hermione smiled.

She tucked her bare feet up next to her, in the process scooting closer to Simon on the cushions.

"Let's think about this logically. If you were cursed in such a way as to give you these nightmares for an extended period, possibly to wear you down and make you more likely to make a mistake or – or to be more docile, I don't know the purpose of the curse – but if you were cursed, then surely the one who cast it or administered the potion would have gone out of their way to not alert you to its presence? If you knew about it, you'd find the antidote or the counter-curse immediately, and they wouldn't want that."

Hermione leaned closer, thinking out loud now and hoping he would be able to follow along. "It's insidious, really. You're not plagued by them constantly; they come and go. Which makes it less obvious. Why do they come and go? What causes them, what triggers them?" The questions were rhetorical, she didn't wait for an answer before moving on.

"That's what we need to figure out first. If we can find what sets them off, we may be able to track them back to the source, and if we can do that, we can figure out why and, more importantly, how."

She looked up, face flushed. "I want to watch you sleep; I want to see how the nightmares affect you. Are they different each time, or always the same? What happens in them?"

-~8~-

Simon refrained from pulling back as Hermione, much as he had done earlier, invaded his personal space. The questions she asked had the heart in his chest pounding so hard, it was a wonder she didn't hear. Logic had been thrown out the window along with any shred of intelligent thought due to the strongly held conviction he was going to lose the very thing that had kept him alive for over twenty years. The fear now flooding him was almost too much to bear without some sort of flight, yet he sat as if frozen in indecision.

"I want to watch you sleep... see how... nightmares affect you. Are they different... always the same? What happens in them?"

Simon blinked once, twice as Hermione asked to watch him sleep. She not only wanted to rip Lily away from him, she wanted the gory details of how he was tortured by the woman he loved as well.

"No!" burst out of his mouth as he quickly stood and walked around the small table. He suddenly missed the billowing robes he used to wear, not really realizing they had been part of his armor, and turned as he let the anger replace the fear he'd been feeling earlier.

"You want me to allow you to watch me sleep?" he asked with an incredulous tone and expression. "Do you realize what you're asking? No one has ever been allowed in a room while I'm sleeping, not even Yorick! In order to relax enough for sleep, I have to cast numerous wards to guarantee no one can gain entry. Dumbledore didn't ask this of me when he was trying to help, why..."

Pacing back and forth in front of the small table, he shook his head and glared at her.

"No, no, a thousand times, no!"

-~8~-

Hermione flinched at the onslaught. She had been expecting resistance, but this was far more than simply being uncomfortable.

His agitation and his words gave her much to think about, more than she could process right at that moment, but there was something that she latched on to.

"Dumbledore tried to help you?" Hermione rose from the sofa and closed the distance between them. "But he wasn't successful. What did he do, what did he try?"

-~8~-

"He was partly successful," Simon informed her as he glared down into her earnest face.

"When they'd become too much to bear, he was able to give me some relief, but as he stood behind me, I haven't a clue, and he wouldn't tell. I always assumed it was another way to keep me in his debt."

-~8~-

"That's a plausible assumption." And, knowing the manipulative codger, probably completely accurate.

Dumbledore had been able to ease the nightmares somehow, which meant there had to be a solution, even if it was only a partial one. Hermione refused to believe that the answer had died with the old goat.

There had to be a way to find it, but if Simon couldn't remember how, then...

Or maybe he has, and just doesn't know it? An idea was forming, but Hermione was positive it was one that Simon would never agree to.

Then I won't tell him. Not until I know for certain.

"All right. Just think about it for me, and if anything comes to you, anything at all, tell me?"

Hermione very much wanted to slide her arms around him and offer some form of comfort, but she suspected he wouldn't accept it. "Watching you sleep is out of the question. For now. Can you tell me what happens in the nightmares, or is that forbidden as well?"

She tensed, preparing to throw herself in front of the door if it looked like he was going to make a break for it. This entire conversation was bothering him – enough to confirm her suspicions that there was something more than just dreams affecting him – and Hermione might not have pushed quite so hard if Simon hadn't asked her for help. Simon – No, Severus. Severus Snape. – had been desperate enough that he had asked her, and come hell or high water, Hermione was going to help him find the answer.

Whether he was willing to cooperate or not.

-~8~-

Simon fancied he knew Hermione fairly well by now. Well enough to know she wouldn't be satisfied with a pat, sanitized answer.

"People – die!" Simon said harshly while turning away from her bright, young face. "Terribly and quite nastily, over and over again. Even though I know – every damned time – what's going to happen..." A visible shiver ran over his frame as he sank down to sit on the floor. He felt drained – even of anger – as his head tipped back. The ceiling was examined as if he could find the face that haunted his sleep.

"I can never change a bloody thing," Simon said softly. "Not one bloody little thing."

**********