Remembrance

**Seven Years Earlier**

Hermione excitedly straightened her skirt and smoothed her hair, her hands shaking slightly from nerves. She couldn't help it...every time she saw him, she was somehow reduced to this bumbling mass of nervous energy. Her stomach squirmed almost painfully, but she smiled nonetheless. There was a war on, she faced untold horrors ahead of her, hunting for Horcruxes with her two best friends. More and more people were murdered and reported missing everyday, and yet when Hermione saw her Potions professor, she forgot all of this. When she was near him, all she knew was the whisper of his robes, the crease between his eyes when he was concentrating, his deep, commanding, comforting voice. All she knew was him.

It was the summer before her seventh year at Hogwarts, a year that she would regretfully miss. Forgoing her studies to help Harry in his quest, she spent the summer doing what she did best...preparing, researching, thinking ahead whilst her two errant friends spent most their time playing Quidditch and talking about their forthcoming doom. While Hermione indeed recognized the threats they faced, her reaction was completely different than the resigned acceptance of Harry and the juvenile disbelief of Ron. And thus, Hermione had spent the last month reading avidly on Horcruxes and anything else which might prove itself useful. Most of her time, however, was spent in the dungeons of Hogwarts, where she aided Professor Snape in creating the potions...mostly medicinal...that she figured they would require on their quest.

During her time down in the dungeons of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger had come to know Severus Snape as none ever truly had. In him she found an ally, a friend, and a confidant. She knew him to be indescribably brave, steadily loyal, and wickedly witty. From almost the moment she set foot in the dungeons, their easy rapport and humorous banter had resulted in a warm, pleasant feeling that seemed to grow outward from her heart and settle painfully in the pit of her stomach. In short, Hermione Granger was in love.

Though she wanted to see him tonight with an aching intensity, she was loath for the night to end. They would set off tomorrow, Harry, Ron and her. Months of diligent research coupled with nightly meetings with Albus Dumbledore had resulted in a tentative yet tangible plan.

And so tonight was the last night she would see Severus for months, perhaps. The thought scared her, but it also emboldened her to act on the warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. With the help of all the Gryffindor bravery she possessed, Hermione was going to kiss her teacher tonight.

With that last thought, she knocked quietly on the foreboding door to his private potions laboratory.

"Come in, Miss Granger." His voice, deep and silky, acted as a balm to her erratically beating heart.

With one last deep breath, she opened the door.

"Good evening, Professor Snape."

"Miss Granger." He nodded his head slightly in her direction as he walked about his impressive lab, grabbing small phials and placing them gently in a small case.

"I finished processing the last of the dittany this morning, Miss Granger. I put it in here with the rest of the potions." He handed her the inky black case.

"I trust you won't shrink these." It was not a question.

"No, sir. I've charmed a bag of mine to fit..."

"As long as you don't shrink the potions, Miss Granger, I have no desire to hear your endless prattle." His eyes shone with amusement, and Hermione rather suspected he was lying.

"Of course, Professor. I apologize. I'll just return to my room, then?" Her heart thudded in her chest at such an alarming rate that Hermione thought she would faint. If he told her to leave, knowing that she was departing in the morning, then she had sadly misinterpreted the accidental hand grazes and the dark glittering of his eyes when he looked at her.

Watching him carefully, Hermione noted with satisfaction that he appeared flustered and a little panicked. His throat working convulsively, he finally looked at her.

"Leave if you must, Miss Granger. Though you are welcome to stay here, if you wish." His voice was tight.

She smiled brilliantly. "I would love to, sir."

He twisted his lips slightly into a facsimile of a smile, and Hermione's heart literally skipped a beat.

Noticing for the first time that the dungeons were a bit chilly, she shivered slightly. Severus narrowed his eyes.

"Come, Miss Granger. A fire, I think, would be appropriate."

She followed him through a heavily warded door located in the corner of the lab. Odd that she hadn't noticed it before. He stepped aside so she could enter the room. She gasped as she did so. If Hermione Granger had ever had a fantasy, than surely this room was it. A large fireplace commanded attention in the center of the room, and a plush couch along with several squashy armchairs were gathered around it. Almost every single inch of available wall space was covered with gigantic antique bookcases. Hermione fancied that there were perhaps miles of books in the relatively small room.

With a flick of his wand, Snape started a fire, which crackled pleasantly, warming Hermione almost instantly. Her body tingled deliciously.

"Would you care for some tea, Miss Granger?" Her professor was leaning carelessly against the doorframe, his arms crossed firmly across his chest. With a start, Hermione realized he had taken off his black teaching robes and faced her now in only dark slacks and shirtsleeves. His hair fell across his face, and the flickering firelight played with his angular features with seductively chiaroscuro results. A jolt of desire went through Hermione, and her hands shook slightly at her sides. She had never wanted anyone or anything as badly as she wanted her teacher.

Clearing her throat, she attempted to answer him. "Do... do you have any wine, sir?"

A slow, languid smile spread across his face, and he chuckled darkly.

"I do, my little sprite." His eyes roved over the length of her body, and Hermione positively swooned.

"Have a seat, Miss Granger, before you fall over." Still laughing, he disappeared into an adjoining room.

Hermione sighed heavily and sat on the plush leather couch, wondering where exactly this night was leading and if she had the courage to follow it.

Severus re-entered the room with a bottle of dark red wine and two surprisingly delicate stemmed glasses. Pouring a generous amount into each glass, he offered one to Hermione and took a long drink from his own glass before joining her on the couch. She swallowed heavily...he was so close to her she could feel the tension between them spark, and she wondered hazily if it would perhaps ignite, consuming them both.

Leaning back comfortably into the couch, Hermione allowed her thigh to gently graze her professor's before taking a sip of the wine. She let the drink linger in her mouth, tasting the blend of exotic flavours in ecstasy. She loved wine, and this particular bottle was an excellent blend. Looking at Snape with half-lidded eyes, she wasn't surprised. He accepted nothing but perfection.

Hermione suddenly realized that Snape was talking to her, and she hadn't the slightest idea what he had said.

"... and you are prepared?" he was saying.

Blinking, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't catch that."

He leaned back into the couch as well, settling himself closer to her. Turning his head towards her, he whispered into her ear. Hermione could feel his breath on her skin, so close was he.

"Then perhaps you should pay attention to me, Miss Granger, rather than making such erotic little displays over your wine."

She flushed and mumbled an apology. With tremendous effort, she slowed her laboured breathing and turned to face him once again.

"What were you saying, sir?"

Snape briefly closed his eyes and his lips tightened in a scowl.

"Could you perhaps dispense with the 'sirs' and the 'professors,' Hermione? I find it quite tedious."

"What shall I call you then?"

He opened his eyes, and they were black as the night around her. "Severus. Just for tonight," he breathed.

"Just for tonight," she agreed.

"I was asking you about your plans. Potter and Weasley... they do not have your brilliance, Hermione. You do realize that you will be the unsung leader of this unfortunate trio, do you not?"

"Did you just call me brilliant, Severus?" His name tasted delectable on her tongue.

He shook his head darkly. "Now is not the time for games. Though they may not recognize it, Potter and Weasley rely almost completely on you. With not half a brain to share betwixt them, it is no surprise. Do you truly realize what you are up against, Hermione? You are attempting to thwart the most powerful dark wizard in the history of our kind, and you are attempting it armed with only your intelligence, a few healing potions, an ancient sword, and two fatalistic half-wits obsessed with their own impending doom. How do you ever plan to succeed?"

"You do not give Harry and Ron enough credit, Severus. Harry is... he's brave and loyal and would give up his own life without hesitation to kill Voldemort. And, I think, he draws strength from Ron. They may rely on me for research and planning, but I rely on them for their love and bravery. We have enough amongst the three of us to manage, I believe."

Severus managed a crooked smile that looked almost like a grimace. "Promise me something, Hermione," he whispered.

"Anything."

"Don't try to be brave. You focus on surviving this war, and nothing else. Do not sacrifice yourself to any cause, Hermione. There is no greater cause than your survival."

His wine glass trembled in his hands, and Hermione felt almost certain that he must love her. What else could affect him so?

"I can't make that promise and you know it, Severus. No more than you could."

He snorted. "I am supremely unconcerned with my own survival, Hermione. I have known for years that I am to die. The thought of my own death does not bother me. But I can't... I can't stand the thought of yours."

She couldn't be sure, but Hermione was almost certain she saw tears sparkling in his eyes.

He took a steadying breath and continued. "Of all people, Hermione, you deserve to live beyond this war. You deserve to know something good, to live in a world free of fear."

"And you don't deserve that, Severus? You don't deserve to live?"

"I forfeited my chance at a decent life when I took this mark, Hermione." Scowling deeply, he pushed up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark.

"Severus Snape! I am sick to death of the never-ending defeatist drivel I hear daily from Harry and Ron. I don't need it from you too. Honestly, sometimes I wonder why we even bother with fighting a war. Why don't we just turn ourselves over to Voldemort and accept that which is apparently our fate? Death, destruction, and all that." She crossed her arms and scowled at him. She knew that he valued his own life very little, and the thought angered her. He deserved more from himself; he deserved more from everyone around him.

"I'll promise you one thing if you'll promise me the same, Severus," she continued. "I promise you that I will do everything I can to survive this war. Promise me the same."

Hardly breathing, she awaited his reply.

Finally, his voice, weary and low, broke the silence. "I've lived long enough, Hermione. There is nothing here for me anymore."

Anger, bright and shiny and righteous, tore through Hermione like a whirlwind, and she thought that this one man could push her to the edge of her sanity with his delusions of his own self-worth.

"If that's what you think, Severus." She reached out and touched his shoulder and tentatively slid her fingers down his arm, lightly caressing the smooth, pale skin of his forearm. "If you think that there is no one in this world who cares for you, who loves you..." She slipped her hand into his, firmly entwining their fingers. "Then I must tell you, you must not be as intelligent as you claim. You are missing what is right in front of you."

Severus was staring avidly at their entwined fingers; his breath was hitching in his throat. Several lifetimes passed in the span of a few seconds.

He looked at her then, the familiar glittering in his dark eyes heightened by her revelation.

"Hermione," he whispered reverently, as if her name was a prayer.

He reached out his hand and gently caressed her face, his fingers tracing the path of her cheekbone. Hermione closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, marvelling in the fact that the slightest touch of his lightly calloused fingers would have her reeling with such strong desire. Suddenly, the tender caress ended and he simultaneously let go of her hand. She felt the loss as painfully as if he had cast the Cruciatus.

Opening her eyes, she found him studying her inquisitively.

"Why did you stop?" Her voice sounded weak and pathetic.

"You should leave, Miss Granger, before this leads to something we will both regret."

"I won't regret it."

"You might not at first. But you will come to regret it. And you will hate me. Of that much I am certain. It would be much kinder for me to deny you now, and ask you to leave."

"I won't regret it, Severus, and I could certainly never hate you. I... I am in love with you." The confession slipped out before she could think properly, but as soon as the words left her lips, she knew they were true.

"Don't say that, Hermione. Not to me. Not now."

Confused and hurt, Hermione stood up unsteadily and made her way to the door. Severus followed her, an unfathomable look upon his face.

"I don't understand," she whispered. "I thought you cared."

"Cared!" His voice was harsh. Grabbing her by the wrist, he whirled her around to face him. "Do you think this is easy for me? Hermione, I care about you with all of my heart and soul, with all of my mind and being. I belong to you completely." And suddenly he was kissing her, a fierce kiss that tasted of loneliness and despair, and he ran his fingers through her wild hair and murmured something into her mouth.

"My life," he growled, his voice deep and husky. "You are my life. And for that, you must leave tonight."

"Don't make me go," she whispered. "Let us have this one night."

With an obvious effort, he drew himself back from her.

"If we both survive this war, Hermione, and this is what you still want, then I will selfishly take you, marry you, and keep you all to myself."

"That's what I want, Severus. It's not going to change. I'm not going to change."

"You say that now, but you will."

She was crying now and made no effort to hide her tears. "I am going to miss you, Severus."

He turned his face from her. "Just go, Hermione. Please."

In the end, it wasn't his words that convinced her to leave. It was his tone. She had never heard it from him before...quiet, pleading. She vowed to wait for him for all eternity, if necessary.

******

Later that night, Hermione lay alone in her bed, tears drying stiff on her cheeks. Her last thought before slipping into a deep, dreamless sleep was that she was completely and irrevocably in love with her professor.

******

Harry woke her with a loud, insistent knocking the next morning. Not waiting for her response, he entered her bedroom before Hermione even had a chance to throw on her robe.

"Come on," he whispered in the early morning light. "It's time to leave." He looked strangely young to her.

It wasn't until later, after they were on their brooms, Disillusioned and flying to the Ministry, when Harry told her.

Severus Snape had been captured earlier in the morning and was currently in Azkaban. He had killed nine people, four members of the Order of the Phoenix and five civilians, two of them children. Harry's face filled with rage and hatred at the last, and Ron muttered under his breath about "the greasy bastard." Hermione almost fell off her broom until she saw Severus so clearly in her mind that he might have been flying next to her. He was innocent. It was a set-up.

She believed this as they hunted and killed Horcruxes. She believed this as she watched Harry knowingly walk to his death, willing to die in order to rid the world of Voldemort. She believed this as Dumbledore looked her calmly in the eye and told her in a cracking voice that he had been mistaken about Snape.

It wasn't until after the war, when she had spent untold hours poring over his case file, that she stopped believing in him. His wand had indeed fired the nine Killing Curses. Needing more proof, she delved into the official Pensieve of his case and witnessed his own confession.

"Do you, Severus Tobias Snape, admit to murdering the nine aforementioned victims with the killing curse?"

He looked straight at the investigator, his eyes glinting steel. "Because I wanted to."

At that, Hermione had to run for the loo, where she vomited until she cried.

******

A/N Once again, my undying love and gratitude to my beta, mgm86, and the fabulous admins at TPP. Readers and reviewers...ya'll make my day.