Sorrow

Disclaimer: See Prologue.

A/N: If you're interested, the song that inspired this chapter is entitled "Sorrow," and it's on the King Arthur soundtrack (the one with Clive Owen and Kiera Knightly). Very fitting, I think.

~*~*~*~

Why will we struggle to attain, and strive,

That love and sorrow are the very same...

~ Madison Cawein, from The Land of Illusion

~*~*~*~

That evening found the two of them once again in front of Severus' fireplace; neither wanted to speak of the incident with Harry, even though it loomed over them like a proverbial thundercloud. After half an hour of staring morosely into the flames, Hermione finally tired of waiting for Severus to speak.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well, what?" came his terse reply from behind the dark curtain of his hair.

She sighed in irritation, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Their ease with each other had gradually waned as the day wore on, replaced by a suffocating tension that she knew had little do with 'them' and everything to do with their morning visitor. "Don't play dumb, Severus. It doesn't suit you."

He gave his own sigh of irritation and leaned forward to rest his head in his left hand; the other held a tumbler of whiskey. It irritated her how he drank so much, but she kept her mouth shut; there were bigger troubles brewing than the state of Severus' liver.

His voice was muffled when he spoke again. "What would you have me do, Hermione?"

She gave a short, barking laugh, shaking her head in amazement at his stubbornness. "I don't know... how about at least... at least consider helping him! I know he hasn't been the best person to me in the last few years, Severus... that he deserves to have the shit beat out of him and more, but this is so much bigger than personal grudges. Can't you see?"

He stood from the couch, throwing his glass into the fire with a sharp crash that was followed by a green burst of flame. "Yes, dammit, I see! How the hell could I not?!" He paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

She stood, blocking the path of his enraged pacing. "No, it doesn't," she said, holding up her hands, trying to placate him, "and I know that of all people I should be the one to say let him suffer... to say let him go it alone. But how can I? How can I condemn the entirety of our world to darkness because he has wronged me... us... in the past?"

He whipped around to meet her pleading gaze with a fiery one of his own. "Easy... tell him to fuck off." He brushed past her, oblivious of the hand she held out to stop him. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Hermione."

The clicking of the lock on his bedroom door echoed through the room like a gunshot, making her heart ache in her chest. Damn you, Harry... she thought bitterly.

Though they had not shared anything more intimate than the casual touch of a hand or – on a very rare occasion – a chaste kiss since that day in the cemetery, Hermione had hoped they were slowly rebuilding the intimacy they once had. Severus could still be a bastard, and his rude, sharp-tongued, sarcastic nature was usually out in full force, but he had shown – in his own way – that he still cared for her: the brush of his hand along the small of her back when he would join her at the worktables; the way he looked at her – his eyes dark and hooded – when he thought she was otherwise distracted and wouldn't notice; the feather-light brush of his lips over her cheek or forehead, lingering a hair's breadth too long to be completely innocent. He was a master of subtlety.

Then there were the times like this: times that made her wonder if he cared at all, if the gentle touches and lustful gazes where all in her imagination. She knew him well enough by now to realize that his rudeness and spite covered a multitude of other emotions, and while she could rightly understand his need to protect himself, she still didn't see why he would do it at her expense. She had made her intentions perfectly clear; she still loved him, and she wanted to be with him, but she couldn't unless he felt the same. Caring was one thing – one cared for colleagues and acquaintances, for pets and possessions – but loving someone, truly being in love with them, was another thing all together. She couldn't be with him if he didn't love her as she did him... it would hurt too much.

Sighing, Hermione picked up her cloak from the back of the sofa. She grabbed her wand from the coffee table and flicked it towards the fire, cleaning up the glass shards and dousing the flames. Severus wouldn't be coming back out tonight.

With one last glance at his bedroom door, Hermione exited his quarters quietly, her murmured, "Goodnight," lost to the cold, empty room behind her.

~*~*~*~

Hours later, Hermione's room at the top of Gryffindor tower had settled into darkness. No fire flickered in the hearth; its ashes lay cold against the ancient stone. No candles burned brightly in their holders; the wax had long ago stilled and hardened. Silvery moonlight bled through the large glass windows leading to the balcony – empty on such a cold night – and illuminated the young witch sleeping fitfully in the curtained four-poster. Her body twitched and writhed as she dreamt, not of lazy summer days or childhood memories, nor of passion-filled nights or loving caresses...

Her dreams were horrifying.

Screaming babies are being swallowed up by the Darkness while she is helpless to save them. She finds herself clothed in flowing robes of purest white, lost on a barren, black field of ash. A sharp, slicing pain in her heel makes her glance down. She steps back, leaving a glistening crimson trail behind. Kneeling, she reaches for the source of her pain, her fingers dusted with black as she reaches for the hard edge hidden in the drifting powder. She knows what it is the moment her fingers touch it, just as she now knows what the cinders and swirling dust around her are made of.

More tears rush down her face now: tears containing one last bit of selfish fear for herself; tears of anguish and sorrow for Severus and Aislinn, for friends and loved ones forever gone; tears of lost dreams, forgotten hopes, and the knowledge that there will be no tomorrow for any of them. Her breathing quickens as the heat from the onslaught starts to sear her skin. She can still hear Severus calling her name, frantically, telling her she must not let it take her... she must fight, she must survive. She has no time to think about his words, for as the flames rush over her, all she knows is Darkness as her body explodes into a cloud of ash.

~*~*~*~

Hermione's scream echoed off the walls of the tower as she snapped from her nightmare. She gasped for breath as the Darkness pulled at her subconscious, trying to lull her back to sleep, to that barren plane of ash and hellfire. The smell of seared skin and sulfur lingered on the edges of her consciousness, and although her rational mind knew that she was no longer dreaming, the irrational part saw nothing but dirty, gray ash littered with bone, and a firestorm on the horizon.

She scrambled frantically to her knees, suddenly overcome with a powerful urge to flee, as she had been unable to in her nightmare. Her pulse pounded in her throat like a wild thing trapped, and her breath came in shuddering gasps. She could hear the fire closing in, could smell the flames... burning... forever burning. "No!!" she screamed and made an instinctive rush towards the edge of the mattress. She didn't make it however, as a pair of strong, warm hands around her waist stopped her from launching herself from the bed in a dead run.

"Hermione!"

She knew that voice...

But no... he's dead... I just saw him die! she screamed to herself in her half-conscious stupor.

"Hermione!" Severus' voice hissed again as he gave her a small shake, "Hermione, stop! It's a nightmare! Only a dream!"

"No!" she screamed, flailing her arms at him in a frantic attempt to escape the flames that she knew were coming. "No! Let me go, Severus!"

He shook her again, more forcefully this time, and turned her to face him. "Stop! Stop this madness at once!"

She doubled her efforts to escape, screaming and clawing at him, her eyes open and wild but unseeing, filled only with the shadows of imagined flames. He hissed in pain as her nails cut across his right cheekbone, leaving a triad of angry red lines. "Let me go!! I want to go... I want to die with them... with you!"

Gritting his teeth, he put all his effort into subduing her. He released her momentarily, in order to readjust his grip, but she was lightning fast and was able to slip away. He snagged her around the waist with his left arm as she tried to get by him. Throwing his full weight against her, he shoved her bodily back onto the mattress. She shoved and slapped at him, leaving red marks where her small hands made contact with his bare skin. Finally, he was able to wrap his long fingers around her wrists and push them over her head.

She wailed in terror as he lay against her, his body flush with hers, effectively pinning her down and forcing her to stop her manic flailing.

"Stop!" he whispered, his mouth right next to her ear as he gave her wrists a fierce shake. "I'm right here! I'm alive, and you're safe... we both are."

"No!" she wailed. "No... you're dead... I saw you... you fell! You turned to dust! You died, Severus..." Her voice trailed off as the first sob wracked her body, and she seemed to wilt in upon herself. Her body went limp under him, the fight leaving her as she broke down. Cautiously, he released her wrists but did not move off of her, lest she try to flee again.

"Hermione..." he said softly, brushing his fingers lightly over her tear-stained cheeks. Her eyes were closed, yet she turned into his touch, and her arms came up to wrap around his neck, pulling him to her in a fierce embrace.

"You died..." she whispered into his neck. "You died and left me... and the babies were screaming..." She started to tremble, and her voice shook as she spoke, "They were screaming and I couldn't save them... I couldn't save them..." She trailed off again, tightening her hold on him.

Severus moved off of her to the side and pulled her close. "It's alright... it was only a dream... only a dream." He soothed her with nonsense words, wrapping his arms around her and letting her cry. They stayed that way for a long while, and the moon had moved halfway across the sky by the time Hermione finally pushed gently away from him.

They lie facing each other, close enough to feel the warm puffs of the other's breath against their lips. She reached up to brush a stray hair from his eyes, letting her hand rest against his cheek for a moment. "Thank you, Severus. I'm... I'm so sorry..." she said, caressing the angry marks her nails had left.

He gave her a small smile and reached up to cover her hand with his own. "It's nothing..."

"Not to me..." she whispered.

They gazed at each other for a long moment, but when Severus saw Hermione's eyes flick to his lips and back, and her tongue dart out to wet her own, he knew he had to leave.

With a tight press of his lips, he sat up, long legs sliding over the edge of the bed.

Her brow furrowed at the sudden change in his mood, and it was only then, when she lost the warmth of his body next to her own, that she realized he had already been in the bed with her when she awoke. She looked at him as he sat on the edge of her bed, clad only in a pair of black sleep pants, the pale line of his back shining in the moonlight, and knew that she wasn't going to push him away if he wanted to be there. His reasons for being there in the first place were what concerned her.

"Why are you here, Severus?" she asked cautiously. She saw his features tighten into his familiar scowl, but that was it. No reply was forthcoming.

She sighed and pulled the covers back up around her. They had been shoved down to the foot of the bed while she struggled against her demons. "Severus?" she asked again.

He put his head in his hands, his dark hair obscuring his features. After a pregnant pause, he spoke. "Because I'm a coward, Hermione... a bloody, fucking coward," he mumbled from between his fingers. He mumbled something else, but she couldn't make out what it was.

The agony in his voice grabbed at Hermione's heart. She moved from her safe, warm spot under the covers to kneel behind him on the bed. She could see the muscles of his shoulders stiffen as she moved close again. Did she dare touch him? She wanted to, God how she wanted to, but could she take the risk of it leading to something more? Would she stop him if it did?

Making up her mind, she reached a hand out to lay it against the pale angle of his shoulder. He was burning hot, and she felt him shudder under her palm. A long-forgotten feeling swelled within her – a feeling of absolute power. If she could make him react so with only a light touch of her palm, what would a press of her lips to his nape do? A flick of her tongue against the shell of his ear?

Don't be deliberately obtuse... she thought to herself. She knew exactly what her touch could do to him... the way his body would respond beneath her hands. Her breath quickened as she laid her other palm against the opposite shoulder. He shuddered again, and this time she could have sworn that he moaned softly.

"You are no coward, Severus Snape," she said as her hands softly caressed the sharp lines of his scapulae. "You are the bravest man I have ever known."

He snorted at that.

"Please... why are you here... really?" she asked, now moving her hands slowly over the planes of his back.

"I'm drunk," he said slowly.

Her ministrations stopped, and only then did she realize that the smell of alcohol was coming off him in waves. She frowned again. "I'm serious, Severus... I thought we agreed that..."

"I know what we agreed, Hermione. I do not need a reminder." His voice reminded her of steel wrapped in velvet... a dangerous tone that she remembered well, if not fondly.

She dropped her hands in frustration. "Then tell me! Why did I wake to find you in my bed?" All thoughts of slowly seducing him were gone as he fired her temper with his stubbornness.

"Why does it matter?" he whispered vehemently, standing and whipping around to look down on her.

"'Why does it matter?' It matters because I don't know whether you're here in a drunken fit of pique, or if you're here because there's a tiny chance you're sorry for being a dick earlier!"

"Of course I'm sorry!" he screamed back, spreading his arms wide in supplication. "Dammit, Hermione... do you know how hard it was for me not to kill that... that imbecile this afternoon?" He was pacing now.

"Yes, I do, but..."

"No, you have no idea," he cut her off. "I would gladly slice him open and hang him from the highest turret by his innards. He's hurt you, Hermione, almost as much as I have... and now you want me to help him? Do you not realize the gravity of the situation you ask me to put myself in?"

She saw the involuntary flex of his left arm. She did know what she was asking, or she thought she did – she was asking him to risk his life to help Harry save the world. However, she was pretty sure that it wasn't his life he was worried about; he had been risking it since before she was born. This time was different; he was also risking hers, risking any hope of a future they may have together, of a life free from tyranny, of the freedom to... love... without fear of retribution... to have children...

The sound of screaming babies tugged at her memory, and as the enormity of the situation truly settled on her, she realized that she was tired... so very tired. Her reserves broke as she realized that he – that they – might actually be killed if anyone on the side of the Dark ever found out where his true loyalties lay. "Oh God..." she sobbed, her hand covering her mouth as she sank back into the mattress.

Her distress seemed to soften him a bit, and he moved towards her a fraction. "Hermione..." he whispered, pleading with her not to cry for him.

She shook her head. "No... I don't care what they do to me, Severus, as long as you stay safe. As long as you help Harry defeat him!"

Fresh tears poured down her cheeks as Severus stood there, a dark angel in the moonlight, wanting to go to her, but not trusting himself to do so.

The decision was made for him, however, as Hermione suddenly moved from the bed to wrap her arms around his waist. "I can't stand being apart from you... These past months have been torture... I would rather spend the rest of my life under Bella's wand than spend one more cold, wretched night without you!"

She pulled back to look at him and took his face in her hands, watching his open-mouthed expression turn from one of surprise to one mixed with sadness, fear, and perhaps under it all, a small amount of joy. He started to shake his head. "Hermione, I..."

He never had a chance to speak, however, because she crushed her mouth to his, all earlier thoughts of propriety gone in her need to be near him. The kiss was desperate, passionate, and full of longing, with a subtle trace of anger underneath it all. He couldn't help but kiss her back, his hands moving instinctively to her waist, as she boldly pulled him back towards the bed. Her knees met the edge, and she pulled him back down with her onto the soft duvet. The nightgown she was wearing rode up her thighs, and she pressed herself against him, making him moan and gasp into her mouth.

Hermione knew he had been drinking, but her body was overpowered by lust and a desperate, unbearable need to feel him against her... inside her. She knew it was wrong... she had stopped him on that night so many weeks ago, but she simply couldn't find the willpower to stop herself now. If they were going to die soon, why not live as much as they could now? Damn the consequences... damn the world if need be...

Severus could only think of her as well. He kissed her feverishly as she raked her nails down his back, dipping her fingers into the waistband of his pants, pulling them lower... lower... until her fingers brushed against him. He gasped and thrust towards her feather-light touch. He did not think of the possible consequences of following through, of sating their desire for each other. He could only think of his Hermione looking up at him, her eyes clouded with lust even after all this time, her small, deft fingers stroking him to utter abandon.

His Hermione... he thought as her hands gave him a light tug, her mouth never breaking their kiss. Suddenly, with enough force to make him gasp once more into her plundering mouth, the truth crashed into him – he still loved her. She meant more to him than anything, was more precious than every rare and exotic thing he possessed; he would snap his wand in two if it meant he could have her back in his life.

He followed her back onto the bed, her little gasps and moans pulling him forward, enthralling him with their promises. "Yes," he breathed between kisses, "yes... please... come back to me, love."

His words only fired her passion. She drew back for a moment to peer into his eyes, seeking the truth of his words. She slowed her pace, running her hands reverently over his high cheekbones.

"For always?" she breathed, her voice shaking, terrified of being rejected and cast aside.

His hands found her face as well, his thumbs brushing away fresh tears. "Yes, love... for always."

They found their way back to each other that night in Hermione's bed, swathed in moonlight and darkness. They cried their pledges to one another and swore new allegiances to body, mind, and soul. Afterwards, as they lay entwined together, bare and glistening with sweat, nothing could harm them as long as they had each other. That is until cold, cruel reality came rushing back in the form of Severus' agonized gasp of pain as he grasped at his left forearm.

Hermione gaped for a moment before she realized what was happening. "No..." she whispered, terror evident in her voice. "No!" she cried again, grabbing him by the arm as he rose to leave.

He pulled away from her gently, moving to pick up his discarded pants from the floor. "What would you have me do, Hermione?" he asked as he pulled them over his slim hips, tying them quickly in place.

"Don't go, Severus! Tell the manipulative bastard that you're tired of fighting..." She pointed in the general direction of the Headmaster's quarters. "...tired of playing both sides! Help the Light, and stay away from the Darkness... please!" Her bare breasts, shiny with sweat and covered in gooseflesh, heaved in the silver light from the windows.

He looked up, fire burning in his eyes. This man standing before her was not the man she had just given her body to, the man who had declared his love for her while spilling himself inside her, her name a benediction upon his lips. This man was the double-edged sword, the spy, the Death Eater. "To what end?!" he cried, taking a step back towards her. She flinched back at his vehemence, but he didn't seem to notice and continued his tirade. "To the end of all we hold dear; the end of being one step ahead of a maniac intent on destroying the lives of any who oppose him?" He dropped his gaze, his fists clenching in anger and frustration. "It would be the end of... everything."

Her eyes swam with angry tears. "Fine... but when will it be enough? When will all the sacrifices and the duplicity be worth it, Severus? You're going to end up dead..." her voice hitched, and she swiped angrily at a stray tear, "... and I can't lose you too..."

He took a deep breath before stepping forward and pulling her close. He could feel her nipples pressing into the bare flesh of his chest, and he longed to press her back into the mattress, to regain the almost effortless passion they had shared only minutes ago, but which seemed so far away now. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head and inhaled her heady scent; sweat and sex and lavender and musk. He closed his eyes and pushed away his reawakening desire; now was not the time. He sighed. "It will be enough only when the Dark Lord is dead... when Potter and his... omniscient overseer... decide the time is right."

Her voice was muffled against his chest. "The time is never going to be right, Severus! Harry was... is... my friend, but he couldn't find his rear end with both hands unless someone helped him..." Her voice trailed off and he heard her sigh in frustration.

Severus ground his teeth, sharing in that frustration. "Then I suppose we don't really have a choice, do we?"

She pulled away, looking up to meet his gaze. After a moment of shared understanding, she shook her head. "No... I suppose we don't."

He leaned in, and his lips brushed hers in a warm, slow kiss... one of both sorrow and promise. He pulled away sharply as his arm flared again, the pain blacking out the edges of his vision this time.

"Severus..." she whispered, wanting him to stay, even though she knew he had to go, lest he face the consequences of earning a madman's disfavor.

He took her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers as the pain abated. "I need you to owl Potter. Tell him that we have decided." With one last brush of his lips over hers, he turned away, all deathly pale skin and harsh angles, ready to meet the Darkness head on.

"Tell him we will help him find his Horcruxes."

And then he was gone in a flash of green flame and sulfur. She stood there for a moment before moving to the outer room, snagging her robe from the edge of the bed as she went. Summoning parchment and quill, she scrawled a short missive:

~ H.

~ S&H

"Dobby?" she called once she had magically sealed and warded the note.

The house elf popped into her room. "Yes, Harry Potter's friend?"

Hermione smiled softly at the elf. He was loyal to a tee and was the only one she trusted to deliver her letter, as owls could be easily intercepted. "Hello, Dobby. Can you take this to Harry?"

He took the note almost reverently. "Yes, Miss... Dobby is free... he can go where he wishes."

"Good. Please get that to him as soon as possible. Let no one else see it... understand?"

The elf nodded and disappeared with a soft crack.

Her task finished, Hermione went back into the bedroom, locking and warding the door behind her. She dropped her robe and crawled back under the covers naked and alone, to pray, to weep, to wait... for the dawn and for Severus' – Please, God... – safe return.

She closed her eyes and tried to find sleep again, hopefully free of war-torn landscapes and bones turned to dust. Her hand sought out the spot where he had lain, but it had already gone cold. In a moment of unexpected panic, her hand moved to the apex of her thighs, brushing against her soft curls as she sought out the only remaining evidence that told her he had actually been there; the evidence was there, drying cold and sticky between her thighs. Many long moments later, her hand still nestled between her legs, blessed dreamless sleep finally found her.

~*~*~*~

When the flames flared green again in the early morning hours, and his warm body slid in next to hers, she rolled over and pulled him to her sleepily, allowing her relief to show in a smoldering kiss. He smelled of dirt and rain and sweat and fear with the lingering aroma of their earlier lovemaking underneath it all. She pulled him over her, and he came willingly, already hard and wanting. This time wasn't tender or slow, but fast and needy, a release of the tension and anger that came from the meetings he was forced to endure.

She took him in, remembering what it had been like, remembering how he had needed this... had needed her... before. His thrusts became erratic, and his hot breath blew harsh and wet against her neck. She held him close, pulling her knees up and moving with him. When he cried out his release, and she felt the warm fluid gush inside her once more, she pulled his mouth to hers in a kiss. He returned it, his hips moving slowly as his climax subsided.

They didn't speak, only moved to lie beside one another. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back against him, burying his nose in her hair. She sought his hand and entwined her fingers with his, pulling it to her chest. Sleep found them both eventually, and it was blessedly free of nightmares. Perhaps the powers that be knew that the horror of the coming days was soon to be upon them, or perhaps it was the nearness of each other that kept the demons at bay. Either way, with the dawn would come a new day, and a huge, frightening step towards freedom from the Dark.

~TBC

~*~*~*~

A/N: Well? I think the next one is going to contain another flashback... we need to get a little more backstory in. I think this is the third chapter without one...

This chapter was partially inspired by the beautiful SSHG story, Breeding Lilacs Out of Dead Land by Areola:

http://ashwinder.sycophanthex.com/viewstory.php?sid=2670

If you haven't read it... well, what are you waiting for?