Chapter Seven

Christmas break came to its conclusion far too quickly in Hermione's opinion. She was glad to see Harry and Ginny again (she still wasn't speaking to Ron), but she would miss her uninterrupted time with Snape. Nonetheless, classes awaited her, and she found herself buried under her already overfilled schedule once more.

It seemed as though Harry's paranoia had increased ten-fold over the Christmas holiday. He was absolutely convinced that Snape and Malfoy were plotting something evil, based on a conversation he'd heard taking place between the two on the night of Slughorn's Christmas party.

She'd tried to reason with him, but he would hear nothing of it. He'd even taken to having Dobby and Kreacher follow the younger Malfoy around in an attempt to catch him at something sinister. Personally, Hermione thought that Malfoy was up to something inappropriate, but felt that Snape was more than capable of controlling a member of his own house. She'd mentioned Draco to him once, at which time Snape had given a shrug that clearly told her he thought Draco to be little more than harmless.

The first day of term brought with it Harry's next lesson with Dumbledore, and of course, he told Hermione all about it afterwards. He'd been assigned by the Headmaster to retrieve a memory from Slughorn...something about Horcruxes...and something that the seasoned Potions professor dearly wished to keep private. She made a mental note to ask Severus about these so-called Horcruxes during one of their future lessons. Surely he would have some information on the subject...

Hermione packed up her things after breakfast and made her way down to their first Potions lesson of the new term.

"Antidotes," she whispered to herself, smiling, when Slughorn announced their assignment. There was no such thing as cheating when deciphering an antidote from a finished potion. The only avenue to take was hard work and applied knowledge, both of which she was far more capable of doing than any of the other students in the class.

Just as she'd thought, the Prince did not have even one line of instructions for Harry, and Hermione thought her antidote for the poison with which she had been presented would surely be the best in class.

She smiled, stirring her potion and snipping off a lock of her own hair to throw into it. Let's see Slughorn fawn over him now... she thought viciously.

"Time's... UP!" Slughorn called genially.

After sniffing several cauldrons along the way (and nearly retching twice), he stopped in front of Harry, eyeing him expectantly.

"And you, Harry," he said. "What have you got to show me?"

Hermione watched as Harry held out his hand, palm-up, to the professor. A twisted smile marred her face when she saw what he'd had hidden inside his fist.

Unfortunately, the Prince had left one small, incredible tip: Just shove a bezoar down their throats.

A bezoar, she thought in disbelief. There is no way that Slughorn is going to fall f...

"You've got nerve, boy!" Slughorn boomed, roaring with laughter. "Oh, you're like your mother.... Well, I can't fault you... A bezoar would certainly act as an antidote to all these potions."

"And you thought of that bezoar all by yourself, did you, Harry?" Hermione asked through gritted teeth, unable to contain the fury that she knew would be evident in her eyes and flushed cheeks.

Before he could answer, the bell rang, and Hermione cleaned her mess the lazy way and stalked out of the classroom.

"The nerve of him," she said angrily, followed by a series of whispered swears.

"Tell me about it," a voice agreed from behind her, and she found herself at a loss when she saw that it was Ron.

So, she wasn't the only one who was angry with the way Harry was besting everyone at Potions. Though, she still wasn't quite at the point of speaking to Ron again, and so she continued down the hallway, not stopping until she reached her Arithmancy classroom.

***

"... and Slughorn just gave it to him! Just like that! Gods, he is so infuriating..."

As Hermione finished filling Snape in on the Great Bezoar Tragedy during their next tutoring session, Snape chuckled lightly.

"Yes," he answered, "his mother used to try the same things when we were in school, and she always got away with them as well."

Hermione stopped her stirs, hanging on his last words. "You had Potions with Harry's mother?"

Snape's face shifted from one of mirth to one of regret, and he quickly turned away from her to peel the boiled Ashwinder eggs.

"What?" she asked, stunned by his reaction, wondering what she had said that was so wrong.

He glanced over at her cauldron, but did not look at her. "You need to add the chestnuts, or the brew will be ruined."

She did as she was told, then turned back to Snape, arms folded across her chest.

"Severus," she called softly, and he put down the black beetle parts that he had been sorting. "What did I say?"

"Nothing," he bit back, and she let the matter drop, searching her mind for a topic with which to change the subject.

Grasping at straws, because she knew he wouldn't care, she moved the topic back to Potions making. "It's all because of that stupid book," she said, turning her fire up twenty degrees.

"What book?" he asked distractedly, now re-sorting the black beetle parts.

"Harry's Potions book. He keeps getting all of his tips from some person who calls his or herself The Half-Blood Prince."

Severus dropped his silver dagger on the table and whipped around, his eyeballs bulging out of their sockets. Hermione found herself taking a step back, a little intimidated by the fiery look in her cohort's eyes.

"Where did he get that book?" he asked her, his voice dangerously low.

"From Slughorn, the first day of class," she answered quickly. "Why? You know who it is?"

He stopped staring at her like a hungry wolf and physically shook his head before he returned to his normal demeanor. "I apologize," he said, stepping forward and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I just never tolerated cheating in my classroom when I taught the subject."

She looked at him timidly, her stance still relatively stiff, her mind still wrapped around how he had just completely flipped out on her.

"Hermione," he said softly, both his eyebrows rising up toward his hairline, a gentle smile gracing his lips. He placed a hand on either side of her face and bent his head low to look at her. It was all she could do to not allow her eyes to flutter shut in utter content. She nodded, turning back to her potion. It looked as though it would be another restless night without sleep for the Gryffindor sixth-year prefect...

***

The early stages of spring were upon them all before she knew it. She realized that her schedule had been much too full as of late to notice the slight shifting of the seasons.

Her weekends were crammed with studying, homework and Apparition lessons, and her weekdays were full enough already with her regular classes, homework, studying and extra lessons with Snape.

Harry still hadn't worked up the nerve to ask Slughorn for the elusive memory, and his suspicions about Draco had increased yet again.

Hermione found herself having to sleep during her free period between Ancient Runes and Potions, and she had already almost been late to the latter three times. If she didn't manage to find some time to herself soon, she was surely going to lose her mind...

White-faced and red-eyed from lack of sleep, she was just about to enter the Great Hall for breakfast when a nearly breathless voice called her name from behind.

"Her...my...nee!"

Hermione turned around to find a very distraught-looking Ginny Weasley bounding up behind her, tears shining in her eyes.

"Ginny, what's the matter?" she asked urgently, placing a hand on the younger girl's shoulder when she had come to a halt in front of her.

"Ron. He's...hurt."

As Ginny refused to speak further on the subject, Hermione followed the weeping redhead up the staircase to the third floor, turning off at the Hospital Wing. Madam "Bulldog" Pomfrey was standing guard outside of the doors, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at the approaching girls.

"No, no, no!" the matron said sternly. "Absolutely not! It's bad enough that Molly and Arthur won't leave his side. I'm not about to let you lot in as well!"

"But─" Ginny began to say, but was cut off shortly.

"You can wait out here if you'd like," the nurse said, waving her wand in an absent motion toward the wall to her right. Two long, orange couches appeared in the middle of the corridor and backed themselves up against the stone, outer walls of the ward.

Ginny looked mutinous, her hands balled into fists as she stared down the older witch. The fresh tear tracks that were still visible upon her cheeks, belied her turbulent emotional state.

"Sit," Poppy commanded in her no-nonsense way, and Hermione gently placed a hand on Ginny's arm, guiding her toward the sofa.

The minutes ticked by like hours, and Hermione found herself regretting the past few months' enmity between her and Ron. Yes, he could be a prat at times. Hell, he was a prat most of the time. That still didn't negate the fact that she, Harry and Ron had been close friends for six years and that she loved Ron dearly, despite his many faults.

"Harry," Hermione breathed, jumping up from the sofa and approaching her friend quickly as he exited the Hospital Ward. "What happened? Tell me everything."

Harry proceeded to tell her the story, and it seemed by his annoyance at retelling it that he had repeated it numerous times that day.

He and Ron had been in their dorm room, discussing Ron's birthday presents and preparing to descend to the Great Hall for breakfast, when Ron began acting strangely. He had eaten a batch of poisoned Chocolate Cauldrons...spiked with love potion, and intended for Harry...and had fallen hopelessly in love with Romilda Vane.

In an effort to rectify the situation, Harry had dragged Ron down to Professor Slughorn's office seeking a cure. Things had gone well enough until Slughorn had pulled out a bottle of mead he had intended for Dumbledore as a Christmas present. One sip was all it had taken, and Ron had fallen to the floor in a fit of convulsions.

"This is just awful, Harry," Hermione said softly when he had finished telling the story.

"Figured that out now, have you? Done with your stupid feud?" Harry bit back irritably.

Hurt by his words and admittedly a little guilt-stricken over the events of the past few months, Hermione could do nothing more than sit back down on the settee, glancing up at Harry like a hurt puppy.

Harry sighed, taking the seat next to her and placing a pacifying hand on her knee. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. We're all so tired lately... and then Ron... well, it's just a lot to take, you know?"

She glanced over at Ginny, who had apparently cried herself to sleep on the other couch. Hermione lowered her voice to a whisper, facing Harry seriously.

"You realize what this means, don't you?" she asked nervously.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. But I don't think we should talk about it here," he said, glancing over at Ginny himself.

"Nor do I," she agreed, "but we need to talk about this later, Harry. Whoever managed to sneak that bottle into Hogwarts..."

"Probably gave Katie the necklace as well," he finished for her.

She smiled at him, glad that they were on the same wavelength.

"Exactly," she said quietly.

They sat in amiable silence over the next few hours, during which time Molly and Arthur retreated up to Dumbledore's office and Fred and George joined them in the queue. At eight o'clock on the dot, Poppy Pomfrey opened the doors to the ward and let them all inside, but only after they had all sworn...under threat of a punishment of Filch's own choosing...not to disturb her patient.

"Blimey," George said quietly so as not to disturb the slumbering Ron. "It was lucky you thought of a bezoar," he finished, glancing up at Harry.

Harry, in turn, immediately looked over at Hermione, who gave him a reassuring smile and reached her arm across Ron's body to pat his hand lightly.

Of course she was still angry that Harry had used someone else's notes to outdo her at Potions. But there were more important things to consider at the moment...first and foremost, figuring out who could have snuck that bottle of mead into the school.

Before she could consider the matter further, Hagrid burst through the doors to the room and stomped up to Ron's bed, leaving massive, muddy footprints in his wake.

"Bin in the forest all day!" he panted. "Aragog's worse..." Hermione shuddered at the name. "...I been readin' to him." Hagrid stared down at Ron. "Who'd want ter hurt him, eh?"

The question spurred a lengthy discussion among all those present, during which Hermione sat and listened quietly. When the clamor had died down, she decided to voice her and Harry's theories, her reasoning being that a group discussion just may help to bring the puzzle pieces closer together.

"I think there's a connection between the attacks," she said quietly.

"How'd you work that out?" asked Fred.

"Well, for one thing, they both ought to have been fatal and weren't, although that was pure luck. And for another, neither the poison nor the necklace seem to have reached the person who was supposed to be killed. Of course," she added broodingly, "that makes the person behind this more precarious in a way because they don't seem to care how many people they finish off before they actually reach their victim."

Her hopes for an enlightening discussion were dashed when the dormitory doors flew open again, and in bounded Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Out. Out, all of you!" Madam Pomfrey chided in a high-pitched voice from the doorway. "Only six visitors at a time!"

Feeling a bit awkward in the midst of the family reunion, Hermione nudged Harry softly and motioned him toward the door. Hagrid followed them out, and the three walked through the castle toward the Gryffindor common room with limited conversation.

Hermione had spaced out, thinking about all of the terrible events as of late. Somewhere, through her sub consciousness, she heard Hagrid say Dumbledore's name.

"Does he have any ideas, Hagrid?" she asked quietly.

"I 'spect he's got hundreds of ideas, brain like his," Hagrid replied. "Wha' worries me," he continued, his words as soft as his giant voice box would allow, "is how long Hogwarts can stay open if kids are bein' attacked. Chamber o' Secrets all over again, isn' it? There'll be panic, more parents takin' their kids outta school, an' nex' thing yeh know, the board o' governors'll be talkin' about shuttin' us up fer good."

"Surely not," Hermione countered worriedly.

"Gotta see it from their point o' view," Hagrid replied heavily. "Yeh expect accidents, don' yeh, with hundreds of underage wizards all locked up together, but attempted murder, tha's diff'rent. 'S'no wonder Dumbledore's angry with Sn..."

Hermione froze. He hadn't been about to say...

"Dumbledore's angry with Snape?" Harry said quickly, and Hermione's heartbeat quickened. "Hagrid," Harry repeated, "why is Dumbledore angry with Snape?"

Hermione looked quickly from the giant to the young wizard, hoping beyond hope that her worry was not etched all over her face. Hagrid was looking around as if he was planning a quick escape, and Harry was staring up at the half-giant murderously.

"What's Snape done?" Harry nearly yelled, and Hermione looked anxiously up at Hagrid.

Hagrid slumped his shoulders, bending his head down between Harry and Hermione. "I dunno, Harry, I shouldn'ta heard it at all! I...well, I was comin' outta the forest the other evenin', an' I overheard 'em talking...well, arguin'. Didn't like ter draw attention to meself, so I sorta skulked an' tried not ter listen, but it was a...well, a heated discussion, an' it wasn' easy ter block it out."

"Well," Harry urged him, and Hagrid shuffled his enormous feet uneasily.

"Well...I jus' heard Snape sayin' Dumbledore took too much fer granted, an' maybe he...Snape...didn' want ter do it anymore..."

"Do what?" Harry cut in.

"I dunno, Harry, it sounded like Snape was feelin' a bit overworked, tha's all...anyway, Dumbledore told him flat out he'd agreed ter do it and that was all there was to it. Pretty firm with him. An' then he said summat abou' Snape makin' investigations in his House, in Slytherin. Well, there's nothin' strange abou' that!" Hagrid added hastily when Harry gave Hermione a significant look. "All the Heads o' Houses were asked ter look inter that necklace business..."

Hermione gave Harry an admonishing look, which he pointedly ignored.

"Look," Hagrid said tiredly. "I know what yeh're like abou' Snape, Harry, an' I don' want yeh ter go readin' more inter this than there is."

Just then Filch was whipping around the corner, Mrs. Norris leading his way. The disturbance, followed by a second interruption...courtesy of Peeves...put a prompt end to their conversation with Hagrid. Harry and Hermione walked in silent contemplation back to Gryffindor tower, each with worried looks on their faces, though for entirely separate reasons.

After bidding Harry goodnight, Hermione waited until he had ascended the steps to his dormitory room, then threw on her cloak and made her way determinedly down to the dungeons. Snape had some explaining to do.

"Professor," she called into the darkness as she entered Snape's dungeon laboratory. "Professor?"

Silence was her only answer, and she made her way down the hall, through Dungeon Number Five and up to the door leading to Snape's private quarters. She couldn't care less if he were angry at her for disturbing him unbidden at such a late hour. There were so many questions running through her mind...why had Snape had a row with Dumbledore? What did Snape not wish to do anymore? She had been in on so many of his secrets this year... Why hadn't he confided in her about this one?

She knocked twice, loudly, but did not receive an answer.

"Professor! I need to speak to you!" she yelled at the door, which remained sealed.

She sighed, allowing her forehead to fall forward against the oak with a loud bang.

"What are you doing here at this hour?" an annoyed voice asked from behind her.

She jumped at the unexpected noise, the sensitive skin above the bridge of her noise scraping sorely against the grain of the wood. She rubbed her forehead contemptuously, hissing at the burning feeling the motion elicited.

"Well?" he asked, arching a brow at her when she looked up at him.

"I need to speak to you," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Yes, I heard that. As did, I am sure, the rest of the castle," he said crossly. "What is this little chat in regards to?"

"Can we talk inside?" she asked, motioning toward the door.

"Very well," he drawled, waving his wand toward the door and unlocking it silently. "I am surprised you did not just enter of your own accord," he added snidely as she entered the room, and he shut the door behind her.

"Not at this hour," she commented distractedly, glancing around at the disheveled condition of his den. Books were strewn about all over the place, and there was a pile of robes in the corner of the room. "Besides, you told me to knock."

"Indeed," he said, taking his traditional seat and waving a hand at the couch across from him, motioning for her to sit.

She lowered herself carefully onto the couch, rethinking her intentions entirely. Perhaps she should just leave well enough alone...

"Well," he snapped, raising his palms impatiently toward the sky. "I do not have all night."

She narrowed her eyes at him, her bitterness returning. "Why have you been keeping things from me?" she asked steadily, though her heartbeat increased once the words were out. His face was indiscernible, and she realized she may have gone too far.

"What things are you referring to?" he asked slowly.

"I know about your conversation with Dumbledore," she said boldly, and his face remained impassive. "I know you've been assigned something," his face faltered a bit, "and I know you don't want to do it anymore."

"Knave!" he roared dangerously, jumping to his feet and rising to his full height the moment she had spoken her last word. "Do you think yourself a voyeur? You have been spying on me!"

"No, I haven't!" she shouted back, jerking up onto her own feet, challenging him. She was offended beyond belief and felt as though she could sense her blood boiling at the accusation. "Someone overheard you. Perhaps you should be more careful where you hold your conversations, Double-O-Seven!"

He was furious now...his face remained steady, but she could see it in his eyes. "Who?"

"I am not at liberty to say," she replied provokingly, a smug look on her face. "Suffice it to say I know this person to be ingenuous...nearly incapable of lying."

"I am warning you, Miss Granger..."

"Sorry, Professor, but if you aren't willing to...hey, put that down!"

He had withdrawn his wand from his robes and was pointing it at her legs, staring at her with unmasked rage. "Tell me, or I will retrieve the answer on my own," he said formidably.

"You wouldn't," she said, her countenance steady, but there was a slight tremor evident in her voice. "You can't, it's against school poli..."

"Watch me," he said, raising his wand a little higher.

At this point, she was, for lack of a better phrase, severely pissed off. She couldn't believe he would dare to threaten her with force. He will have to pry the memory from my cold, dead body, she thought defiantly.

"It can be arranged," he answered her, and she realized she hadn't said that last sentence out loud.

"Get out of my head, Severus," she said as calmly as she could, squeezing her eyes shut tightly.

"You leave me no other options, Hermione," he replied.

He sighed, piquing her curiosity, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

She squeaked nervously when she saw he had stepped forward and was now mere inches from her, his arm raised above his midsection and his wand pointed at her temple.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and she felt her defenses drop at the words. "Legilimens..."

The experience was worse than she ever could have imagined. Harry had described Legilimency to her many times, but no words could have prepared her for what she was feeling now. It was as if her mind was being raped.

He shifted through her memories effortlessly, pushing aside those that were irrelevant to that which he was searching for, and settling finally on the recollection of Hagrid's tale.

She couldn't explain how he had found it, but somehow she was aware that he had been able to sense her guilt as he had glossed over the image. It was as if their senses were mingled with one another's while he was inside her head, and she was powerless to stop him.

He didn't stop searching when he had finished viewing the images, and she felt panic flood through her. By some means she was aware of what he was searching for...a later conversation with Harry regarding the story they had been told.

Ha, nothing in there, she thought wryly and was shocked to hear his reply echoing through her mind.

We shall see, he thought, and she panicked as he began ravishing her memories.

"No," she thought...or said...she really couldn't tell the difference anymore.

He saw himself in one of her ruminations and grabbed it greedily. He was angry for some reason and used no restraint in sifting through her mind.

When she saw which memory she had chosen, she actually did yell out loud this time. "No!" she cried, but it was too late...he was already viewing it.

She is in his Potions lab late at night, taking a break from her notes as she watches him brew. She observes as he stirs his draught...once...twice...three times. She is mesmerized by his actions, entranced by his movements. It is hot in the lab that night, and he removes his robe, leaving nothing above his waist but a button-down black oxford. He pauses in his stirring, rolling up his sleeves and unbuttoning the topmost buttons below his collar, revealing just the tiniest amount of bare skin and sparse hair. She swallows hard.

He continues his stirs, slowing only to add the powered root of asphodel to the mix. Gods, he's beautiful...He seems to notice her staring at him and glances to his left, giving her the smallest of smiles, one that is only detectable on the normally emotionless face of the Notorious Black Bat of the Dungeons. She is startled by his notice of her and returns to her notes, blushing.

The scene changes...

She is in her dorm room later that night, reliving the earlier scene in her mind. The memory warms her to the core in the most erotic way, but before she can do anything to satisfy herself, Lavender rolls over in her bed to face her, snoring loudly. She sighs, and her thoughts return to Severus, though they take a different path this time round.

She wonders what will happen to them when the war is over and if...when, she admonishes herself...Voldemort is defeated. She contemplates telling him the truth about her feelings... that she has never known anyone quite like him... that he is brilliant, and that she truly, really feels as if sh..."

"GET OUT!" she screamed, and an unnatural power coursed through her veins, exploding out of her fingertips.

She opened her eyes to see her arms raised in front of her, fingers pointing outward. Snape was lying on the floor in front of her, a stunned look on his face. She glanced down at her hands. She could sense them burning, the power she had felt before slowly receding back into her. She panicked, dropping to the floor, landing in a sloppy, Indian-style position.

Snape was still lying on the ground, his eyes so wide she thought they would pop out any second. They stared at one another for several moments before she remembered that she couldn't stand the sight of him after what he had just done to her.

Angry tears sprung into her eyes, and she moved to get up off of the floor, placing a palm on the carpet. An odd noise reached her ears, and she looked down only to see that the scorched feeling in her palms had not been imaginary...there was a burnt-in handprint on the carpet.

Alarmed, she cried out and kicked her legs wildly, using her heels to push herself back up against the foot of the couch.

"Relax," Snape said calmly, rising up and walking toward her, only to bend down at her side. He took her hands in his own and examined them thoroughly. She tried to pull away, but he held her steady, eventually placing his palm atop her own and staring her into her eyes.

"They are cool now," he said softly, and she bowed her head, sobbing quietly.

"Hermione, look at me," Snape nearly whispered, and after a few calming breaths, she complied.

"Do not speak to me," she said, her jaw tight. "Leave...me...alone."

She rose from the carpet, her eyes glued to the exit as she marched away from him.

"Hermione," he called loudly after her.

"Fuck off," she replied as she left the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

***

Defense class was not easy that week. She was furious with Snape for invading her mind without her permission, and the very sight of him brought angry tears to her eyes.

She felt betrayed, unsure and naked. Her mind was the one place where no one could touch her, and that safety zone had been breached. She hated him for what he'd done, but her feelings of affection for him remained strong, and the contrast was slowly driving her mad. She didn't know who she was anymore.

She skipped their scheduled lesson the following Wednesday, but was determined to attend the one subsequent to that. He was in the wrong, not her, and he needed to know that. So when the time came for their session, she loaded her schoolbag and made her way down to the antechambers of the castle as per usual.

To his credit, he appeared to be slightly surprised when he saw her enter the Potions laboratory, materials in tow. She set up as she usually did, taking a seat on the stool nearest the edge of the table and waiting for instructions.

"I believe we need to have a conversation," Snape said after several minutes of silence, approaching the table and standing next to Hermione.

"Regarding?" she asked coldly, eyes on the table.

"You know the matter of which I speak, Hermione."

"No. Sorry, nothing comes to mind, Professor Snape."

"Do not attempt to be coy, Hermione. What happened on..."

"Can we just get on with the lesson?" she asked in mock boredom, twirling her wand absently between her fingers.

"Look," he said, his voice taking on a waspish tone, "I am attempting to remain civil, but if you..."

"I don't have time for this," she said nastily, hopping off the stool and reaching for her book bag.

"What you achieved the other day...wandless magic...is a very rare and unique gift," he said seriously. "It will take time to grow accustomed to it."

She began to toss her lab items into her bag, and he stepped forward. "Hermione..." he said, touching her arm in a forestalling gesture.

She jumped at the contact, inhaling sharply as her eyes turned to Snape. He pulled back as if burnt, his brow furrowing. She watched as his facial expression took on that of a wounded puppy, and she felt her rage begin to boil within her.

"No," she said harshly, balling her fists. "No, you do not get to look at me like that!"

She began breathing heavy, tears welling up in her eyes. "You did that to me!"

Still he said nothing, an unmoving fixture in the room.

"Why did you do that?" she said harshly through clenched teeth. "Why did you have to do that to me? It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. It was a horrible thing to do."

His eyes remained focused on hers, but he looked somewhat ashamed of himself. "I know," was his only reply.

"How could you betray someone that cares about you so?" she asked, holding his stare. "Do you have any idea what I've been through these past two weeks? You invaded my mind and made me feel unsafe. Who am I without my defenses, Severus? Those memories were private. What you did was unforgivable."

"I am required to do a lot of things that I am not proud of," he answered, looking away from her.

"Well, now you have your answer. You saw the memories. I don't suppose you want to give me an explanation for what I was told?" she asked, a nasty undertone to her words.

"No," he answered.

She gave a hollow, sarcastic chuckle. "Big surprise."

"Hermione," he called, his voice meek, as she turned away from him.

"What?" she bit back, whipping around to face him.

"It is simply not my secret to divulge," he said, his gaze holding hers.

"Neither was the one you ripped from my mind," she countered bitterly, her form stiff, "but I didn't have a choice, did I?"

He sighed, waving a hand toward the stool. "Sit," he said authoritatively, and she glared at him. "Please, sit," he corrected, and she reluctantly complied.

He took the seat next to her, his eyes facing forward instead of toward her as he began to speak.

"I was not lying when I said that I could not reveal to you the contents of the conversation. That remains solely between myself and the Headmaster, and I will not break his confidence."

She shook her head bitterly, her jaw set stiffly.

"I will, however, tell you everything that I can without going into specifics. That shall have to suffice," he said, turning his head toward her.

She looked at him carefully for a moment before nodding, her countenance unchanging.

"I have been charged with an undertaking that I never would have considered carrying out under normal circumstances," he paused, thinking. "I never thought anyone would have to complete. I would give anything to be released from my obligation, and that is why the Headmaster and I were arguing."

"And you can't tell me what it is?" she asked, her anger subsiding.

"No. It would put you...not to mention the Headmaster and myself...in danger," he said, shaking his head and looking back at her.

She pondered his predicament for a few moments. "If this task is so terrible, just don't do it," she said finally.

"I do not have a choice!" he snapped, though she thought it was more at himself than at her. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"Can I help?" she asked eventually.

"No," he replied obviously, scrunching up his face and looking at her as if she were Neville Longbottom.

"Your life will be in danger afterwards, won't it?" she asked softly, looking away.

"My life is already in danger. I am used to it."

She considered his predicament for a moment, her mind trying to wrap itself around the concept of living in constant, never-ending danger. He had probably been sleeping with one eye open his entire life...it was no small wonder that he didn't trust anyone. Her heart ached at the thought.

"I'm still angry with you," she commented offhandedly.

"You should be."

"Severus?" she said quietly, both of them still facing forward instead of looking at one another. "I love you."

"I know," he answered, his demeanor unchanging.

She reached over to where his hand was settled on his knee and placed her own on top of it. He didn't respond to the gesture, nor did he move away. They sat that way in silence for what seemed like an eternity until she was quite sure that the hour was well past midnight.

Eventually she rose from the seat, gave Snape a soft kiss on the cheek and left the room silently.