Chapter 54

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a while. I promise to put them back when I'm done. Also, no money made either...just for fun. Keep in mind, most of the actual events in DH happen as they happened in the book unless I have indicated they happened differently or at a slightly different time. I am, however adding to the drawn out camping stretches a bit. Oh, and the snippets of dialogue that I have at the end are borrowed without permission from Mrs. Rowling's book. I truly hope she doesn't mind.

I want to give a great big thank you hug to my alpha reader, Arabellabloodgood, Proulxes for the bit of Brit-picking, and to DuchessOfArcadia for combing through this and helping me clean up my many mistakes. I really appreciate it more than you can possibly know.

Thank you, Jay, for the beautiful banner. I absolutely love it!

---

Hermione woke up the next morning and looked about her room. It was silent in the tent, much too quiet. She stretched and eased from her cot and started dressing, pulling on her jeans and a T-shirt, then paused when she pulled out a sweater from her bag...a maroon one with a Peruvian Vipertooth pattern on the front. Mrs. Weasley had knitted it for Ron in his fifth year, supposedly to match Harry's green one with the Hungarian Horntail dragon on it. Ron had given it to her because she liked it, because it no longer fitted him, and he hated the color maroon. Her eyes welled up with tears, which rolled heavily down her cheeks. Ron hadn't returned last night, and she'd remained on watch until three in the morning, waiting for him. She exited her room to make breakfast, but even the act of cooking eggs made her cry. How could he leave us like that? she kept asking herself, over and over until the question became, How could he just abandon us?

Hermione refused to talk to Harry about Ron over the next two days and refused to move the tent in case Ron returned. She buried herself in something productive, mostly so she could block out the memories of the insidious innuendos and condescending whispers of the locket, but also to have something constructive to do rather than sit around moping. So she focused on working out where the Horcruxes or the sword might be with Harry. She hadn't meant to, but she'd battered Harry these last two days for any detail Dumbledore may have given him in those sessions that he may have withheld or forgotten to tell her. But try as he might, Harry couldn't offer any new bits of information. When Harry decided to take watch, she turned her attentions to reading everything she had on Animagi transformation, determined to keep her mind too busy to think about Ron's abandonment.

On the third day, Harry insisted that they move. Hermione had to concede that Harry was right; Ron was not coming back. Harry looked at her with sad puppy eyes as he took her hand for Side-Along-Apparition. She pondered on where to go; she wanted to be alone, somewhere she could fume and cry in peace. She recalled a picture she'd seen of Blanchland Moor in County Durham to use as her destination and Apparated. When her feet landed on the grass, she released Harry's hand and sat slumped on a rock, feeling dejected and weary as Harry started to set up camp. He's gone. He's really gone. The stupid bloody wanker left and now we have to do this without him? Severus would never abandon his friends, she thought angrily then paused, remembering who his friends had been. Well, he wouldn't have abandoned me if he'd been here.

She sat curled up on the rock until the cold wind started to make her shiver, then went inside and lay down on her cot. It is so like him, she growled angrily to herself. Things get hard, it doesn't go how Ron thinks it has to, or he doesn't like how something is going and he walks out? Turns his back on Harry when Harry needs him? It's just like our fourth year all over again. She cried herself to a restless, dream-haunted sleep, repeating his accusations and complaints over and over in her mind.

She and Harry ate lunch in near silence. At dinner time, Hermione still didn't know what to say so she didn't say anything. It was the same the next day. And when it was her turn to wear the locket, it only made her treacherous mind drudge up her argument with Ron and his attempt to kiss her all over again. Needing something to occupy her mind, Hermione pored over her books and journals endlessly, trying out some of the new spells in her books.

The next morning, Hermione moved their camp to the ruins of a milecastle on the Hadrian Wall she'd seen a picture of once. After that, they moved every other day to places like the high fells of Scafell Pike, or the Grittone Edge in the Peak District in Derbyshire, the Mendip Hills south of Bristol, and the Limestone Pavement above Malham Cove in the Yorkshire Dales. If Harry noticed Hermione's propensity for choosing the most remote places she could think of, he never commented on it, but then he didn't complain when Hermione refused to venture out anywhere for food or supplies either.

Hermione had hoped to speak to Altheda, wanted at least one friendly person to talk to, even if she were only a painted image. But Phineas appeared each time she looked into the portrait frame instead. So, she started bringing Phineas' portrait out on the table at night since Harry wanted to speak to the ex-headmaster. However, Hermione didn't trust the acerbic and rude ex-headmaster, so she insisted on blindfolding him. Nevertheless, both she and Harry relished any news he'd impart regarding the happenings at Hogwarts, even the bad news, although to Harry's dismay; Phineas mostly venerated Professor Snape and extolled the efforts he made in the face of the spoiled students' mutiny to his stricter policies. But with each mention of Severus, Hermione's heart ached to speak to him. Hermione felt sorry for Severus and the troubles her friends gave him, wondering if Voldemort was aware, and if so, how long Severus could keep the evil wizard out of the school.

The weather was growing colder, too. Hermione bundled up in a warm sweater, thick scarf and her coat when she went on her watch. Frequently she'd stare up at the stars and wished she could see Severus, to talk to him in person. She could see Jupiter standing stationary in the constellation of Gemini and wondered if Severus ever looked at the stars. If he was on the Astronomy Tower he would see it, she thought, then wondered if it was Wednesday when the students would be up there. It was odd; she wasn't sure what the date was. Oh how I miss being able to talk to him, she thought with a smile that faded when the thought struck her, Why would he want to see me, he's probably busy. He has important things to do, like running the school.

But he always took time out for me, always. Maybe only bits here and there, but he did. She just needed to be able to talk to him, tell him... What? How badly things are going? She shook off the notion.

She missed getting his letters, missed seeing him. She missed their training sessions and brewing with him or being able to watch him work. She really missed being able to talk to him.

'Anything is possible if you've only got the nerve,' Ginny's voice sounded in her head. It was reckless, but did she dare? She felt a heady sense that she should go, she should try.

But how would I get him to meet me? I can't just appear at the school. She wondered if he still ventured out into the forest or hiked up to the spot that overlooked the vale Hogwarts sat in. She could still picture the place and the view of the castle, lake and Hogsmeade. Maybe, if I can figure out how to make my voice speak through my Patronus like the Order members could, she considered, then dismissed the idea. She didn't know how they did it because no one had shown her how to. Why didn't I ask Severus to show me when I had the chance?

Merlin, but I wish I could go and see him, she thought and watched a shooting star streak across the sky.

---

"Hermione."

She looked up surprised. She'd become so used to seeing Phineas' scowling face in the frame, sneering at her and calling her an impertinent Mudlbood, that the kind voice startled her. However, seeing the hair and shoulders of her painted friend behind the blindfold, if a portrait of a woman could be considered a friend, filled her with delight.

"Hermione, are you all right, dear?" Altheda asked. "What is this thing across my face?"

"Oh, sorry, it's a precaution," Hermione said, removing the blindfold, relieved to see Altheda smiling at her, her eyes showing her deep concern. "We're not too sure about Phineas, he's..."

"Yes, he can be difficult," Altheda said for her. "Hermione, dear, Severus has been so concerned. Your owl keeps coming back to him."

Hermione jumped up when Altheda said Severus' name. "Shhh. Harry." She picked up the frame and carried it to her room carefully so as not to jar the kind woman too much.

"He has tried to write to you, several times, but your owl can't find you. In a way that pleases him, it means no one else can either, but I can tell it worries him as well. So, I have been asked to check in on you since Severus can't get a thing from Phineas," Altheda said as Hermione propped the portrait up at the foot of her cot and cast the Muffliato on the canvas walls.

Hermione turned to sit crossed-legged on her cot to face her and pulled her blanket over her knees to keep warm as Altheda continued, "You know, Phineas, he prattles on about how young people love to bemoan their problems. But even when pressed, he doesn't have anything to say except to complain about your rudeness and insolence, and he says that he can't see you. Now I know why, but really, why blindfold him? He can't see anything but the wall of this... It's a tent, I presume."

"Yes," Hermione sighed in relief, not that she didn't trust Severus, but Phineas could tell someone in Grimmauld Place...Yaxley or another painted relative who had a portrait in Malfoy Manor...about anything he saw or overheard and that could be a problem. "I read that the portraits are bound by some magical oath to keep the secrets of Hogwarts' headmasters or headmistresses and the secrets of the school, but that wouldn't extend to my secrets, would it? He is only bound to keep Severus' secrets."

Altheda blushed slightly, "Well, yes, that's true," she said with a nod.

"But I can trust you, can't I?" Hermione asked, and Altheda confirmed it, warmly, "Of course, sweetie."

"Is Severus all right? Has anything happened to him?" Hermione asked, hoping for good news. "You-Know-Who hasn't done anything to him, has he?"

"No, Severus is fine. He's had a lot to deal with, though. Some of the students are causing problems for him, writing slogans on the wall and causing unrest among the student body. He's had a hard time keeping the Carrows from taking their fury out on the more rakish miscreants. And the governors are demanding he maintain order... Parents are writing; naturally they are concerned for their children. Poor thing doesn't get enough rest," Altheda said sadly. "But you, what's happened? Why haven't you allowed your owl to find you?"

"I-I...I've been busy...we move a lot," Hermione replied lamely. Her shoulders slumped and tears formed in her eyes. "Ron left. He abandoned us. Things are not going well, and he was always complaining. Complaining about the way I cook...what I cooked. His shoulder hurt. He was cold. He was tired of the rain. We live in bloody England...it rains here all the time!" she ranted. "I'm cold. I'm hungry...do you hear me complaining? No! Harry doesn't complain. But the whining wanker did all the time. And he tried to kiss me!"

"Did he?" Altheda asked. She appeared to lean forward slightly. "He didn't try anything else, did he?"

"No!" Hermione screeched. "Of course not!"

Altheda nodded and appeared to relax, touching the brooch pinned below her collar. "That is a relief. I've been concerned for you, a lovely young lady alone with two hormonal teenage boys. In my day it would be unheard of, and the young lady's reputation would've been ruined."

"There is nothing like that at all! Harry is like a brother to me, and Ron is...was a friend...only a friend," Hermione said emphatically.

She regarded Hermione thoughtfully. "Aren't you eating, dear? You look thin," the painted lady asked.

Hermione shook her head, "Yes, a little. Depends on what I can find." She inhaled deeply and looked at her hands. "I really miss him."

"Well, if he was that problematic, you're probably better off without him," Altheda said kindly.

"Not Ronald bloody Weasley...Severus!"

Altheda smiled and nodded, then, surprisingly, she slipped from her frame. Hermione stared in shock, then fell back on her bed and let the tears fall. "I want to see him," she said softly.

You should; you should go, the voice encouraged.

She sat up, but all she could see was the murky background in the gilded frame. Hermione picked up her book, Beedle the Bard, and started to scan through the pages for anything that could be a clue from Dumbledore, although whatever he'd meant for her to see completely eluded her. The thought, Severus would know, you could ask him, startled her and made her heart race. I can't ask Severus! This is our mission, Harry's, and it...it is supposed to be confidential. She put down the book on her cot. Altheda's right. She and Harry were not eating all that much, nor as frequently. Food had been harder to come by. They'd also discovered that they had better luck avoiding the Dementors if they stayed in remote places, and with the weather getting colder, those people hunting her and Harry would expect them to be in the southern parts of the country where it was warmer, rather than in the north. So she and Harry braved the cold, doing the best they could.

After what seemed like ages, Altheda's face slipped back in view. "He says it's too dangerous to meet with you. But he asked me to tell you to be careful. Do you need anything?"

"Food," Hermione replied. It was cold now and most of the plants that she knew were edible were much harder to find now that winter seemed to have descended on them in full force. "I have to go shopping soon."

You should go. See Severus. Harry will be all right, flittered in her thoughts. "Tell him not to worry, I'll..." Go. You want to. It will be all right. "Oh, heck. No. Tell him I want to see him."

"No, Hermione, it's too dangerous," Altheda said, her voice now raising an octave. "There are Death Eaters in the school! You can't."

"He took me hiking once; there was a place on top of a steep climb. You could see the castle and the lake from there," she said, grabbing her duffle coat and beaded bag. "He'll know where."

"Hermione, no!" she heard, but she was already heading out of the tent.

"I'm going shopping, Harry. I'll be back as soon as I can," she called out.

"All right," Harry said. "Be careful."

Hermione arrived on the top of the cliff face and had to immediately jump back from the edge. The castle looked the same, magnificent, welcoming, even though she knew it wasn't...not for her at any rate. She could see the squid floating lazily on the lake and smoke rising from the chimneys in Hogsmeade. There was a crisp chill to the air, and she wished she'd thought to wear a warm scarf, thankful she had worn her sturdy boots. She dug her hands into her pockets to keep them warm. Spotting Hagrid's hut, she wondered what he was doing and gazed at the forest as a Thestral soared in the air and disappeared in the trees.

She saw something small flying at her and smiled as Tawnie came into view. The young Tawny owl swooped down on her, hooting happily and started making course, "Tu-whit," followed by a long, "hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo," sound as if admonishing her.

"I'm sorry you couldn't fine me, really I am, but I have to move around a lot to keep from being captured," she told her owl as she landed on a rock.

Tawnie continued to make "hoo-hoo" and "ha-hoo" sounds as if talking to her.

"So, I get it you missed me as much as I missed you?"

---

As much as he'd been relieved to finally have news that Hermione was all right, he'd been infuriated with Altheda when she'd told him that Hermione would be arriving on the same ledge that the Dark Lord used to meet with him. He'd grabbed his cloak, made himself invisible with a very strongly cast Disillusionment Charm and fled the castle stealthily. He couldn't be seen leaving, but then if the Carrows knew he was not in the castle that too would cause problems. But he had to tell her to leave...immediately. Coming here was an impossibly insane idea, and her ruddy owl had flown out of the window the moment Altheda had said Hermione was coming...to see him!...hooting happily, causing a racket that would alert anyone standing near a window!

He hurried to the nearest part of the magical boundary, slipping though it easily enough and Apparated to the spot.

There she was, her hair plaited, and wearing Muggle clothes. His traitorous heart pounded in recognition, even as he scanned the area quickly to make sure she was alone and hadn't attracted notice from anyone. Her declaration 'you missed me as much as I missed you' surprised him, considering that she shouldn't have been able sense his presence.

"Yes, but that does not negate your recklessness in coming here," Severus answered her in a cool velvety voice.

"Severus!" she exclaimed as she turned, and he felt a twinge in his chest upon seeing the elation in her expression.

The very moment he ended the Disillusionment Charm, she rushed forward and hugged him tightly, making his heart quicken even more.

His arms seemed to hang unresponsively at his sides for a second as his mind registered the fact she was hugging him before he wrapped them around her. He inhaled deeply, relishing the feel of her body against his in her thick coat, only too aware of just how precarious their situation was. He could smell her perfume, Shalimar, and the subtle hint of peppermint, lavender and lemon verbena he associated with her. Her soft, curly hair tickled his nose, and he could feel her breath on his neck as he hugged her back, awkwardly. But rather than closing his eyes and truly savoring the moment, he looked out over her head, watching the surrounding sky cautiously.

"Hermione," he said softly. "We can't remain here."

She looked up at him, her eyes bright and moist. "I had to see you," she said and rose up on her toes. Her lips met his quickly, jolting his already stress-tautened nerves, sending sensations through him he wasn't ready to accept.

He set her back on her feet. "Come with me," he said, taking her hand and leading her. With a flick of his wand, the two large bushes that concealed the trail divided, allowing them to pass, and settled back in place. He led her down the trail they'd used years before.

"Where are we going?" she asked quietly.

"Where we won't be seen," he said. He stopped where the trail turned downward toward the Shrieking Shack and Hogsmeade and led her back under the tall trees instead. He faced her, letting his eyes feast on her, taking in every detail. She'd matured somewhat; it showed in her eyes. Her face was thinner, her cheek bones more prominent than he remembered, and she looked weary. She stared back, and he fought the urge to make his hair obscure his face, wondering why she'd be so mesmerized by his looks. He was not a handsome man; he knew it. "Why did you risk coming here?" he asked, unable to stop himself and relaxed his hand to let go of hers.

"I had to see you," she replied, her fingers reaching out to clasp onto his hand again. "I...there is so much to say, so many things I've wanted to ask."

"I will not talk about Dumbledore," he said curtly, hoping that was not the reason for her coming to see him.

She surprised him for a second time by shaking her head and saying, "I don't really have to...I worked out why weeks ago."

"Have you," he scoffed, withdrawing his hand from hers.

"Yes, you told me you had to. The last thing you said to me that night: you asked me not to hate you, to forgive you if I could and that you were going to do what you must. Dumbledore was dying. I saw his cursed hand," she stated, looking at his hand, then back up at him. "I saw how he'd held his arm; it had been stiff as if he couldn't use his arm anymore. I overheard Professor McGonagall telling Professors Flitwick and Sprout in the hospital that the curse had reached past his shoulder, and Madam Pomfrey confirm it to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley; he was dying. Did you know Harry had made him drink an unknown potion? That couldn't have helped." She leaned against the tree behind her. "So, the way I see it, you saved him from being captured...giving him a quick and painless death. Not to mention, but there had been five other Death Eaters on the tower that night...if you count Greyback as a Death Eater...anyone of them would have loved capturing and torturing him."

He listened to her with a sense of disbelief. Her expression told him what he'd known to be impossible...she had forgiven him. She still looked up at him with complete unconditional trust in her soft, doe-like amber eyes. She spouted utter nonsense, Dumbledore had used his vow to Lily to force his hand, but that didn't matter. Even if he told her about the vow, it wouldn't change her opinion of him.

"And now?" he asked.

"And now, what? You're trying to protect the students...to keep Hogwarts safe. Phineas told us about what you did for my friends. They broke into your office, smashed the case to take the sword, and you gave them detention with Hagrid," she stated with a crooked smile. "You could have dealt out far worse punishment...but you didn't." She looked up at the branches overhead, then back at him. "That's not why I'm here."

"Why are you here then?" he asked.

She smiled shyly. "I wanted to see you. To be able to...I missed you." She put her foot against the base of the tree, and her hands in her pockets, a gesture that if anyone else had made would have piqued his defensive reflexes.

He stepped closer to her and saw her pupils dilate and her breath deepen. Her reaction startled him. She licked her lips as she stared back unabashedly. He wanted to touch her, to move the wayward curl off her cheek, to kiss her again. "To be able to do what?" he asked. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "What is it you want?"

"Want...?" she gasped. "Severus, why...? Aren't you glad to see me?" She pushed off the tree, her body now so close that the soft scent of her perfume complimented by the lavender and lemon verbena filled his senses.

"Yes," he breathed, capturing her mouth with his, accidentally bumping his nose on her cheek. She angled her head, her mouth claiming his as he adjusted, and their teeth clashed. Her hands grasped his robes, pulling him closer to her, mashing their lips together, and he leaned down, wrapping his arms about her, crushing her to him. She stumbled, losing her footing, and she dragged him with her as she fell back against the tree trunk. He pressed his hand on the trunk to steady himself and kissed her again. It was insane, giving into the moment, but every sensory impulse he had was now focused solely on her: the scent of her perfume, the feel of her body in the bulky coat, the feel of her soft lips against his and the tickle of a curl on his face. He drank her in, relishing in the intoxicating sensation of kissing her...really kissing her...and the fact she was kissing him back while clutching onto his robes with both fists.

He had to stop. This was insanity. He couldn't be away from the school for so long. But damn it all...this woman clouded his better judgement and confounded his brain. He broke the kiss with great effort, leaning his forehead on hers as he tried to catch his equilibrium. "We...I have to stop," he said, standing up. "I can't be gone for long. If anyone realizes I've gone..." He let the thought drop as he caught his breath.

He was pleased to see her flushed face and kiss swollen lips, and noted that she was breathing as hard as he. "I...do you have to?" she asked breathlessly.

He inhaled deeply to steady his resolve. "Yes, I must," he said softly. "As enjoyable as this is, I do have to return to the school."

"What if I need you?" she asked, moving to stand closer to him...much too close, as her proximity was weakening his resolve. "How can I reach you if I have to ask you something, or if I need anything?"

"You shouldn't," he said and watched her face fall. "I have to maintain the pretence. There are over four hundred students and my staff to consider." He turned his gaze away after watching the expression on her face, first disbelief then admiration. It was too much. She was much too open and trusting with him. He didn't deserve her trust.

He heard the sound of the ground crunching under her boots. "Show me one thing before you go?" she asked of him.

He looked up, surprised that she'd moved so close; he could almost kiss her again. His body reacted to the thought of her once more in his arms. "What is it you want to know?"

"How do you infuse your voice with your Patronus?" she asked.

He laughed. "It's never something simple with you, is it?" She cocked her head, and he drew his wand. It was bad enough that his Patronus was still a doe, but that that doe now seemed to represent her as much as it had Lily was too telling for his comfort. Then he remembered that Filius had bragged that she and her DA friends could all produce fully formed Patronuses. "I heard that you can produce a corporeal Patronus. Is that true?" If she could, that would make things much easier.

"Yes, I can," she said, drawing her own wand. "Expecto Patronum," she said, making a large silver otter burst forth.

That is most convenient. This will not be hard at all. "And the spell to infuse your words is 'ad verbum'," he said, not wanting to show her his Patronus yet, if he could help it. "While still maintaining the connection between your wand and your Patronus, think it nonverbally before you begin to speak, and if your otter has wave undulations, like vibrations through water, then it's working."

She kept her wand angled at the waiting otter. "Ad verbum," she repeated softly, then added, "Thank you," and smiled at the shimmer that rolled through the form. Her simple 'Thank you,' emanated from her otter.

Her ability to grasp such magic so quickly had always amazed and pleased him, even if he couldn't show it. "Try to keep your messages brief; they are easier that way and more coherent when delivered. Now if that's all, I must be going," he said, turning to leave.

"How can I control Fiendfyre?"

"You cannot!" he snapped as he spun back to face her, making his robes swirl dramatically. He was flabbergasted that she'd had the temerity to even consider something so dark and dangerous, and her eyes became round at his sharp tone. What could she be thinking, asking such a thing? "Hermione," he said, his voice still taut, and she looked up at him unabashedly as if to debate this inane idea. He had to convince her and quickly fell into his teaching voice, one she'd always responded to predictably. "Hermione, Fiendfyre is a Dark Art, and one only the foolish try to utilize. The Great Fire of London in 1666 is one such example of how the Fyre can get out of control; the great fire of Moscow in 1547 is another, and so was the Great Chicago Fire in 1871. Two significant signs of the Fyre are that it spreads rapidly, and the heat of the Fyre tends to cremate its victims leaving no recognizable remains. Either the wizards thought they could handle Fiendfyre or they set it for some sort of revenge, but for whatever reason, the Fyre, which becomes alive upon creation, can grow in strength rapidly. It will suck all the oxygen from the surrounding area and grow, consuming anything in its wake. The more combustible material it touches, the larger it becomes as well. It will fight to survive, and is, by its Dark nature, an evil in and of itself. Why do you ask me?"

"If cast or created in a jar, will it be contained?" she asked, not heeding his question.

"No, if provided enough air, even through a small opening, it can and will consume glass, melting it and freeing itself. Do not even attempt to cast it," he warned, his voice now dangerously low. "Promise me!" he barked.

"I promise! It was only a thought," she answered back, startled by his tone.

"Why would you even consider creating it?" he asked.

"It was just a thought," she said, hanging her head. She looked up at him. "I won't, I promise."

It has to be because of these objects Dumbledore has her looking for. He wanted to tell her that if she found anything she couldn't handle, anything Dark that she need help destroying, that she could always turn to him, but knew that would be impossible. "If you have need, send your owl. Don't use your Patronus. You don't know whom I'll be with or where I'll be. I'll try and send word, but meeting is not advisable. It's too risky," he said, and she nodded in assent.

He stepped forward and cupped her face with his hand, and she leaned her cheek into his palm, her eyes fluttering closed. His heart ached at the sight, realizing how much he wanted it to mean she truly loved him, but knowing it was utterly impossible to hope. She was merely taking comfort from his touch. "Now, I really must go." He kissed her softly and turned, Apparating for the trail in the forest near the Quidditch pitch.

He walked the few feet to the boundary, his thoughts in turmoil. Why ask about Fiendfyre of all things? What does she have that she needs to use the Fyre? There was very little in the world that Fiendfyre couldn't destroy: it could consume rock and soil as easily as it burned wood. It melted all forms of metal and glass and turned sand into glass. Only the purest of goblin diamond graphite casks could possibly contain it, but even that was questionable, although there had been rumor of Fiendfyre having been trapped in a vault once to kill it. He hoped that whatever had spurred her to ask about Fiendfyre, his response was sufficient enough to prevent her from trying it.

He entered through the boundary and flew up to the castle and entered his office through his window.

He looked at Dumbledore watching him from his frame. "Don't even say it," he warned the painted wizard. "It was nothing."

"You should not be involved with her, Severus," Dumbledore said.

"And I am not," he said as he crossed his office. "It's handled. It's over." He looked at the books on the walls wondering if the answer she needed was among them. But there was no way of knowing until she confided in him. The old man trusted me with all his Dark Arts needs, potions, cures to the darkest curses and help with all the Dark Artifacts that entered his school, but he sends Hermione, Potter and Weasley on a hunt to locate...I have no idea how many...five? Six, cursed objects? And I'm not even allowed to know what they are to help her.

He'd read through every page of every book she'd read in her sixth year when he'd given her permission to search through the Restricted Section but found nothing, no commonality that he could determine. The last books she'd read were Darkest Magick of the Ages, Ye Horrific Enchantments and Beguilements and Magick Moste Evile, but the only book she'd checked out was Magick Moste Evile, which provided him no clue at all. And she'd been very interested in the Founders, most notably Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor. Again he had no idea why.

Unless she was looking for Ravenclaw's lost diadem or information on Gryffindor's sword or hat. But she hardly needs Ravenclaws' lost diadem; Hermione is a brilliant intellect and usually quite logical, and the Hat was irascible when misused in any fashion. Not to mention that the hat and sword were in his office: Godric's hat, now the Sorting Hat, sat on the top of his shelf and the sword was tucked away behind Dumbledore's portrait, safe and sound. 'For when Harry has need of it,' the painted old man kept saying. How the bloody hell I'm to know when that is? Some divine intervention or apparition perhaps? Maybe Sybill will spout off some new prophetic nonsense, that batty hag.

He sat down at his desk to try and finish his mounting parchmentwork.

---

Determined that if they couldn't figure out where the sword could be, Hermione decided she would learn something useful like being an Animagi, even though Harry still spent his time guessing where the sword or cup could be. She had copied down everything from Physical Shapeshifting Through Transformation by Phaedrus Goldschlager into her notebook for Transfiguration, since she remembered Severus' younger self telling her that Black had it for months. Not that she'd been able to concentrate all that well.

The weather became harsher. Some of the locations Hermione chose for their camps hadn't turned out to be very wise decisions, but then most of the pictures she was using had been taken in the spring or summer months. Sleet pounded on the tent when they camped on Ben Nevis, and camping on Aonach Mòr hadn't been very hospitable either. Marshchapel, Lincolnshire and near Nether Abington had been all right, but choosing to go to the marshland in North Lancashire had been a disaster when the marsh flooded, flooding the tent as well. They'd moved to Ilkley Moor in West Yorkshire and had to dry the tent and all their belongings the best they could. Thank Merlin for the Drying Charms in their spell books, but Hermione ended up having to take everything to a laundromat in the town of Keighley to clean all their clothes and blankets and that had taken all day. But the worst had been trying to spend the night on an island in Loch Maree; they woke up only to find their tent half buried in snow.

Even though she and Harry had moved their cots into the main room of the tent to sleep as close as possible to the stove, it was still bloody cold at night. She and Harry had been used to living in a magically warmed castle with stoves in their dorms and large wall scones helping to keep the corridors warm and large fireplaces. She wanted a brazier for her room, a warmer jumper and warmer clothes. And their food had once again dwindled down to the point where Hermione absolutely had to go shopping again.

After telling Harry where she planned on going and what for, she went to Scarborough library and looked up the store Truspass in a phone directory, one of the sports and outdoors shops her parents liked, and sighed, wondering how her parents fared. She found the address listed at the Brunswick Shopping Centre, not far from the library. Using Harry's cloak, she walked quickly to the shopping center, humming the song, Scarborough Fair, to herself, but the line of the chorus, 'she was once a true love of mine,' reminding her of Severus. She smiled, remembering their kiss under the tall pines. It had been so romantic, so tender. Sure it had been a little awkward at first, bumping noses and clashing teeth, but really all in all it had been a wonderful kiss.

She found Truspass easily enough and bought her and Harry thick fleece coats, thermal underwear, warm ski socks and warm gloves, not caring about the colors. She also decided to splurge on two season three/four down sleeping bags to fend off the cold. She paid for her items and left the store, shoving everything into her bag, wondering where to go next.

Thing was, the only place she wanted to go was the ledge above Hogwarts, wishing she could see Severus again. The ideas warred in her mind: Yes, no, yes, I shouldn't, I really shouldn't.

She stopped at Wackers for a cup of tea and some fish and chips, so she could make out a grocery list, but ended up writing out the lyrics to the chorus of Scarborough Fair after pasta, ham and bread. Her favorite version of the Scarborough Fair was by Simon and Garfunkel, and she always sang the chorus and counterpoint to it, 'Canticle,' even though it had always made her sad. She wrote out the words, tweaking the last line of the chorus a bit, she smiled. She crossed out and changed a few more words and added the line, A dark knight came from the northlands, from in a poem she'd read somewhere. The thought of going to him again had been plaguing her mind for days, as if whispered in her ear.

She tapped her quill. Why not? What would it hurt? If I sent the words to the counterpoint in my Patronus, would he be mad? She knew she could give her Patronus directions. She'd seen Professor Lupin send a message though his Patronus, and she'd seen Mrs. Weasley sending her Patronus a few times, both of them giving their Patronuses the directions that if the person wasn't alone to simply come back. She just hadn't heard how Mrs. Weasley had infused her voice into the silvery duck. Now she knew.

She looked out of the window. She really wanted to see Severus again. It is afternoon, lunch should be over. He should be in his office now. Unless he isn't in the castle. She banished the thought. He said he would be noticed if he left the school, but it's not impossible. Would it work? Would he know it was her? More importantly, would he come?

She slipped into the restaurant loo and cast the Muffliato on the room. "Expecto Patronum," she said, making a silver otter burst forth and quickly added, 'Ad verbum,' nonverbally and began to sing. Her voice resonated in the room, making the vibrations in her otter. She loved to sing and normally had a nice voice, but she hadn't sung for a long time. Still, it sounded all right to her own ears. Before her otter left she said, "Only if he's alone, don't give the message if he's not alone. And if he is, lead him back to me."

The otter nodded and flew out of the window.

Breathing deeply she ended the spell on the loo and went to pay for her meal.

She bought two more fish and chips dinners to take away, carrying the bag outside. With a flick of her wand, she said, "Transportare tent," clearly, hoping that they would go where she wanted them to. She walked out onto the street, cast the Notice-Me-Not spell on herself, then Disillusionment Charm and Apparated to the castle on the hill.

---

Severus set the report he'd finished on the pile he'd have to send out that evening. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, trying to fend off the headache that threatened to turn into a migraine. At least he no longer had to mark inanely written, poorly spelled and punctuated, plagiarized parchments with horrible grammar that the students passed off as their essays any more. Not that cost estimate reports, end of term notices, exam schedules and all the other duties he'd had to do in running a magical school were any easier.

He was about to fill out the request form for the Bursar's Office regarding the number of ticket vouchers he'd need from the Magical Transportation Office when Hermione's silver otter leaped into his office and began to serenade him in Hermione's clear voice to the tune of Scarborough Fair.

Are you going to Scarborough Keep,

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.

Remember one who awaits you there,

She once was a true friend of thine.

Are you coming to Scarborough Keep?

Holy shite is she kidding me? he snarled to himself. Keep? Not fair? he mused captiously.

But instead of the lyrics he was expecting, Hermione's voice continued in a more somber tone.

My dark knight come from the northlands,

To the top of a hill in the deep forest green,

Following an owl on snow-crested ground.

Except for the line about the dark knight, it was the lyrics of 'Canticle' the counterpoint of Simon and Garfunkel's 'Scarborough Fair', one of his mother's favorite songs. He'd heard her sing it so many times he could almost hear her singing along with Hermione's Patronus. Even as he mentally hummed the song's counterpoint lyrics, he noted the variations. Owl not sparrow. He looked up at Tawnie, who persisted in roosting on the curtain rod in his office no matter how many times he'd told her to go to the owlery as the serenade continued.

Blankets and bedclothes a child of the mountains,

She sleeps unaware of the clarion call.

I'll await you on a hill among a sprinkling of leaves.

Washed is the ground with so many tears.

A soldier cleans and polishes her wand.

He smirked at her use of wand instead of gun. How appropriate.

War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions

Generals order their soldiers to kill

And to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten

Hardly forgotten, he scoffed.

Come to me at Scarborough Keep.

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.

Remember one who awaits you there,

She once was a true friend of thine.

Come to you? Is she... Come to me at Scarborough Keep...? Scarborough Castle in North Yorkshire? "Is she in Scarborough?" he asked and was surprised when the silvery otter nodded and turned for the window. Follow the owl on snow-covered ground. He was insane to be listening to this...he'd told her not to send her Patronus to him. Unless she is in trouble? He rose to his feet.

The Order used Patronuses because they were faster than owls, almost the speed of light, and could not be replicated. If you knew the person's Patronus' identifying marks, the receiver could be absolutely sure the message was genuine. But he didn't really know Hermione's otter Patronus' marks, except it had been her voice singing to him.

The otter made an impatient loop in front of his window. Against his better judgement, he nodded, Disillusioned himself and made his way out of the castle. The otter flew alongside him as he shot across the snow-covered grounds on his broom to the closest part of the magical boundary. Once there, he Apparated to Scarborough Castle. He stood on the hill beside the trees wondering where she'd be. He mounted his broom and took to the sky, circling one end of the ruins of the former medieval fortress, flying up to the keep situated high on a rocky promontory.

He saw her Patronus swoop in on the keep, and he landed close to where he'd last seen it. He heard Hermione's voice asking, "Did he come? Did he follow you?" and he walked over to the area her voice came from.

"Hermione?" he asked softly and cast a revealing charm over the area.

A shimmer to his right wavered and slowly, from her head downward, she came into view, the clear sign she'd reversed a Disillusionment Charm. He did the same, and as soon as the trickling warm sensation reached his shoulders, he heard her cry out his name and saw her rushing toward him. He caught her in an embrace the moment her arms wrapped around his neck. Their lips met. She kissed him as if starved, and he answered back, trying to mold his lips to hers. She angled her head, crushing her lips to his, as they greeted each other like long lost lovers. Her hands found their way under his cloak and slid along his body over his coat, sending fire to surge through him. He grasped her head gently as he could to keep her still, clutching her to him with his other arm. Merlin, but all thought seemed to leave his brain, every thought but of her, in his arms, passionate and hungrily grasping to hold onto him as tightly as she could. His world seemed to have stopped. If anyone was around, he didn't care; if they were seen, he wouldn't have noticed. She slowed her ardor and pulled back slowly, just enough to look up at him, staring at him with eyes dark with desire, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed pink.

"Are you all right?" he asked as he breathed in her scent, sadden to note that the lemon verbena was overpowered by the scent of vanilla and peppermint that hung to her.

"I'm fine," she said, her breath warm on his skin. "I'm so glad to see you."

He looked up and realized how precariously insane their location was. "Do you trust me?" he asked, emboldened by the predictable nod of her assent. "This is not the place for this," he said and pictured a croft house he'd been to on a raid and knew to be abandoned. "Hold on tight." He Apparated, taking her with him.

The home had been used by a wizard. Half of one wall was gone, part of the roof had caved in, and most all the furnishings and belongings had been removed, but the house was registered as a magical residence, and their being there would go unnoticed at the Ministry. "Now why did you send me your Patronus after I specifically told you not to?"

Her face fell. "I wanted to see you," she said lamely.

"Merlin, woman, but you could have caused me such trouble if anyone had seen...had heard your song. Not that I didn't enjoy the serenade," he added the last sarcastically.

"I told my Patronus to only give you the message if you were alone," she stated. Her arms tightened around him, somehow finding a way under his cloak again. "I knew you'd work it out."

"It was pretty obvious, anyone could have worked it out. Hermione, it's too dangerous. I can't be coming to see you like this," he said and pulled her to him again. "Merlin, what you do to me."

She kissed the side of his face. He turned his head and claimed her mouth again. Their kiss was much more leisurely now, soft caresses and gentle as they clung to each other. He sucked on her bottom lip, and she smiled, making him lose hold, then she kissed him firmly, easing back slightly. It became a dance, give and take, gentle sweeps, soft playful nips and sensual caresses. He'd remembered the boys in his school years talk about making out. This had to be what they were referring to. His hand seemed to find its way under her coat, and his fog-addled brain registered skin, warm, smooth, silky skin under his cold hand. Instead of pulling away, he clutched her tighter, kissing her more ardently, escalating under the release of his pent up passions and awakening his desire for her even more. She pressed forward, holding him tighter, her body fitting snugly to his, and his lower parts responded, throbbing with want. He tried to pull back, to keep the erection in his trousers from feeling too much friction between their bodies before this got out of hand. He wanted her; Merlin he wanted to rip her clothes off and take her...but not here and not on an old dirty floor. She moaned, a deep throaty moan that almost set his blood on fire. "Hermione," he said, trying to disengage the eager witch in his arms. "Stop, not here."

"Why?"

"Merlin, woman, if you don't stop I'm going to fuck you here on the floor," he growled and thrust her away from him at arm's length. He had to clear his head. What was I thinking bringing her here? "This is utter insanity."

Her heels dropped lightly to the floor, and she stood there regarding him, the uncertainty showing in her eyes.

Unsure, he chose the noble thing and held her arms so she'd have to look at him. "Look. It's not you. But if I'm found out, if he sees you in my mind...and right now, this instant he'd be able to see everything...he'd demand I bring you to him. This...us...it has to stop."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not giving you up. Know this, I want you. I have for a long time now."

He couldn't believe what she was saying could possibly be true, but even as she continued, he could see she thought she meant every word. "It's not a schoolgirl crush; it's not an infatuation...it's you. You are what I am attracted to most...it's you. I know it sounds ridiculous, but there, you know now. I love you."

His heart pounded uncontrollably in his chest. What he'd never dared to believe had been spoken and at the worst possible time. There is no future for us to be an us! We are in the midst of a war, and she loves me? Her timing couldn't be worse, and yet, he felt like taking her in his arms and never letting go. She loves me?! She said so. "Hermione, you think you do but it's..."

"No," she said, the fiery determination in her amber eyes made them glow warmly. "I love you. You are the one I am always thinking about, the one I dream about, and when I smell Amortentia...it's you! Your scent! You are what I am most attracted to. I've know this for over a year. Maybe even longer."

He inhaled sharply. "But you have to realize, we are both caught up in the midst of a war. Either of us could die in this fight." He dropped his hands from her shoulders and stood taller. "I have a duty as do you."

"Yes, I know," she said with a sigh. She looked away, and he watched her, wondering what she was thinking. "You asked me once if I needed anything," she said, and he nodded once, apprehensive to her forthcoming request. "Would you send me what you can on becoming an Animagi? I'm close," she held up her hand with her fingers barely an inch apart, "so close. But I need to know how to turn back once in my form."

Her request took him by surprise. "You're close?" he asked, amazed. Was there any magical spell this woman wouldn't try...that she couldn't do? "How close?"

"I can almost do it, but I think being afraid of getting stuck is hindering me. If you can, send whatever you can on the subject to me, please."

But Professor McGonagall is the one you should've asked, not me. "I will do what I can."

She paused, her eyes becoming unfocused as she stared at a wall for a moment. She licked her lips, an action that made him stare at her lush lips until she turned her focus on him again. "In six days I'll be at Kilmar Toron the eastern side of Bodmin Moor," she stated.

"You should not tell me where you'll be," he said, fighting back the conflicting emotions her trust brought out in him. She was too naïve where he was concerned, but it would be nice to get letters from her again instead of these surprises of hers. He nodded. "I will keep your secret," he vowed, feeling the magic pulse in his wand hand, sealing the promise. A magical bond...shite, an oath. At least it's not another bloody vow, he thought before he left her and returned to the magical boundary of the school.

---

She'd failed. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't transform.

'You're a failure of a witch...you shouldn't even consider yourself entitled to be called a witch,' the scratchy voice in her head said.

I'm just insufficiently determined, she chastised herself, arguing against the voice, and tried again. She felt her magic swell and thought the incantation with determined will, but nothing happened.

'Completely inept. A coward,' the voice said, and she shook her head, trying to dispel its presence.

No, I was only... Inadequately focused on my intent, that's all, she thought determinedly.

'You were completely heedless...totally negligent. You'll never accomplish this; you're not smart enough,' the voice berated her.

This is just like when I failed at Apparition! she thought as she removed the Horcrux from around her neck. She immediately felt somewhat better. At least she felt more clear-headed. Hermione remembered what Severus had said to her on top of the Astronomy Tower the first day of Apparition lessons. 'Professor Twycross gives the same speech, the same directions every year. But he forgets one very important aspect every time,' he'd told her while they'd stood in the rain. She could picture him, his hair soaked as was his frockcoat. 'You are the most determined witch I have ever taught. I know you were sufficiently focused on your destination. I'm quite sure you were deliberate in your action, but you forgot one very vital aspect..."

I have to focus my determination on my intended action and think the incantation...without losing focus...then release my magic... That was the most important thing Severus taught me when I was learning to do wandless magic...to control my magic and how to draw on my magical strength. I have to trust myself; I can't focus too much on the change, I have to allow it to happen. Let myself blend with my magic, and it will happen. "I focused too much on my intention and determination and being deliberate, I forgot my magical ability." She tried again and felt a shifting, an awareness, but when she opened her eyes, she was still facing herself in the mirror. Damn.

"Hermione, are you ready to go?" Harry asked.

She looked around. Everything was packed. "Yeah, I'll be right out." She picked up her bag and joined him outside. In no time they had the tent folded into a small packet. Magic still amazed her.

Hermione was shoving the tent into her beaded bag when Tawnie swooped down on her, announcing her arrival happily. "Oh my gosh, you clever owl! You found me!"

"Whose's owl is that?" Harry asked, watching Tawnie flutter around Hermione looking for a place to land.

"Mine, I suppose," she stated, allowing Tawnie to land on her arm. "Hold on tight, Tawnie, I'm going to take you with us."

"Hermione?"

"It's fine, Harry, she's not traceable," Hermione said and held out her hand to him. As soon as her feet touched solid ground, Harry stepped back, but Tawnie shot up into the air, flapping her wings wildly in agitation. "I'm sorry!" Hermione called out to her as Tawnie circled her head wildly, making piercing "coo-wik" cries and coarse short "ha-ha" sounds, frantically expressing her agitation.

"Tawnie, you're all right; it's okay, really," Hermione kept saying as Harry suppressed his mirth.

"It's not funny, Harry," she admonished him.

Tawnie landed with a huff on a rock, but refused to let Hermione approach her. "Fine," Hermione finally said, pulling the tent from her bag and setting it up as Harry tried applying all the protective charms and enchantments.

Tawnie spent the evening sitting on the chandelier ring that hung from the ceiling of the tent, chatting nosily, refusing to come down and let Hermione take the parcel in her talons. By morning, Hermione was able to coax the owl to her with a bit of toast. "Tawnie, it's called Apparition. I can jump long distances in seconds, but you're right; the sensation is off putting," she explained as she fed the owl bits of her ham slice.

"You're explaining Apparition...to an owl?" Harry asked between bites.

"Tawnie's a clever owl; she just didn't like the squeezing sensation," she said as she untied the string. It isn't a parcel! It's multiple sheets of parchment! Pages and pages of information on Animagi transformation, some in his handwriting and several were pages copied from various books. He sent me what I'd asked for!

"I don't either," Harry admitted to Tawnie, then jutted his chin at Hermione. "Who's it from?"

Hermione froze. I can't tell him it's from Severus...he hates Severus! She shrugged as she tried to appear nonchalant. "Just someone at school."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, so she cast a quick nonverbal wandless Confundus Charm, feeling guilty for deceiving Harry. Tawnie flew up to the chandelier to roost as Hermione folded the sheet of parchment and put it in her pocket before she released the charm on Harry. She pulled the composition book she'd used to write down all of the things Harry said he'd learned in his sessions with Dumbledore and placed it in front of him and started reading her The Tales of Beedle the Bard. She saw the odd eye symbol on the top of one page, wondering if it was a symbol and not an eye as she'd assumed, and reached for her Spellman's Syllabary.

Harry's eyes slowly began to focus. "We should go over this," he said, looking at the page in her journal.

"Hm?" she asked turning the page in her Syllabary. He was going to get them involved in another seemingly fruitless endeavor to work out where Dumbledore might have hidden the sword.

"Hermione, I've been thinking, and... I...I want to go to Godric's Hollow," he said.

She looked up at him. She'd been thinking the same thing. "Harry, could you help me with something?" she asked and showed him the symbol in her book. "Look at that symbol."

He leaned over to look at the symbol. "What about it?" he asked.

She, however, wanted to know what it meant.

~ T. B. .C. ~

Author's Notes:

The last three sentences of dialogue were borrowed from the book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, when Hermione and Harry discuss the deathly hallows symbol Dumbledore had put in his book, The Tales of Beedle the Bard, on the first page of the story of the three brothers. You know what happens after that.

Wackers is a real restaurant establishment in the town of Scarborough, and it is on the same street as the Brunswick Shopping Centre. However, for the sake of the story, I invented the idea of the mural on the wall.