Chapter 19

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Thanks to LadySunflower for being my beta. Any reviews are very welcome; I very much enjoy reading and replying to them.

Chapter 19

It was quite obvious to Severus, even without the crystal ball to scry with, that all was not well with Hermione. By mid-November dark circles ringed her haunted eyes. It was possible that the storms raging were keeping her up, as for the past two weeks, thunderstorms had been shaking the castle from the tallest tower to the dungeons. Yet, in the mornings Hermione looked quite guilty when she saw the other sleep deprived students. He eventually managed to get her to admit the cause: nightmares tormented her with increased regularity and clarity, primarily memories of the car accident, but mixed with her fears of becoming the evil Necromancer as displayed by her boggart. The storms were caused by her powers letting loose during those dreams. Severus just found it fortunate that her mental anguish was just affecting the weather and not tearing the castle down.

Dreamless Sleep had no effect whatsoever now that the hairline fractures caused by learning and practising the Dark Arts were extending further in her soul. She was also struggling against the temptation to use Dark spells in mock duels in her Defence lessons. Severus was able to tell this because like called to like; he could feel the darkness in her begging for release. So far, she'd been able to control herself, but Severus doubted that she'd be able to manage for much longer.

After observing Hermione almost collapse into her dinner in her exhaustion two weeks after he'd began giving her Dark Arts lessons, he decided to bring her to Dumbledore in an attempt to solve the problem behind her lack of sleep.

The Headmaster's solution was quite radical, but he was also fed up of having his own sleep disturbed by thunderstorms. Severus smirked as he remembered it on his way to his rooms.

"When can you sleep? When is the last time you slept through the night?" Albus demanded, eyes fixed on Hermione where she stood before his desk.

"I see. I do recall that those were also fine nights, no storms. In the interests of the health of the occupants of this school, I allow... no. I insist that you, Hermione, move into Severus's quarters. Extra space will be provided for your belongings. But this allowance is on the condition that you are both discreet. Obviously, I cannot remove you from Severus's rooms if it does become common knowledge, but I will have to force you to marry."

His quarters were now slightly larger than before, Albus having persuaded the castle to modify them to be comfortable for two. The study contained another desk, together with Hermione's schoolbooks and work. Severus was about to close the door and investigate the other rooms, when he caught sight of Hermione huddled on the floor, a book lying discarded beside her. She was staring absently at the ceiling, her eyes wet with tears that were steadily and silently running down her cheeks.

"What's wrong?" Severus made his way to her, crouching down beside her and laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing." Hermione sniffed, wiping at her cheeks. "I'm just being stupid."

"Don't give me that. Stupid is one thing you're not, despite what I may have said before. Tell me. I can't make it better if you don't."

She shook her head, but reluctantly admitted what had upset her. "I was reading the Ancient Runes textbook for homework, only..." A dry sob escaped her. She swallowed hard before continuing. "What's the point of going on with my studies? Even if I sit my N.E.W.T.s, it won't matter. I can't get a job; no one would employ a Necromancer. Then I thought about how selfish and ridiculous I was being. People are dying out there, and I'm falling apart at the thought of there being no point to my studies."

"Hermione... your studies are not worthless. Learning is a vital part of who you are. Even if you can't get a job, you can still pursue further knowledge for your own satisfaction. Money is hardly a problem; even if a teacher's salary is not much, I did inherit the Prince family fortune." Severus reached over and laid a finger over her lips when she opened her mouth to protest. "No argument, my dear. I fully intend to claim you in the unbreakable bonds of a hand-fasting ceremony. What's mine is yours."

Hermione let out what seemed to be a cross between a laugh and a sob. "Most people discuss marriage. They don't just state their intentions like that."

"I am not most people."

Beneath his Invisibility Cloak, Harry followed Hermione after dinner. It had been a week since the storms had stopped, allowing the ground to be covered by a healthy blanket of snow in late November. He was well aware that Hermione no longer inhabited Gryffindor tower and that she had been the cause of the storms. But when he had asked Dumbledore, he hadn't been told where she was now staying. When asked, a secretive smile had crossed her face, but Hermione hadn't elaborated. Harry knew that he wasn't as bright as Hermione – the girl was in a class of her own – but he was far from stupid. He suspected that she was staying with Snape, but couldn't fathom why Dumbledore would allow Hermione to spend every night with the emotionless git.

Having attempted to locate Hermione on the Marauder's Map, he'd surmised that Snape's quarters were Unplottable. It rankled him that Hermione spent so much time with Snape. Surely, her friends were better company; he couldn't imagine that a lonesome, bitter wizard like Severus Snape could do her much good, but she looked healthier than she had in weeks. So to satisfy his curiosity, he was making every attempt to observe the interactions of the greasy git and the bookworm. Ron had refused to accompany him for some reason. After he'd recovered from Hermione's hexes, he'd been very subdued and unwilling to do anything that could anger the walking encyclopaedia of obscure hexes, jinxes and curses. Not that Harry could blame him; Hermione could be ruthless when riled and was quick on the draw with her wand. Also, of the three of them, while Ron had the hottest temper and was quickest to anger, and his own fuse was short, Hermione was slow to anger, but burnt hottest and longest. The girl could hold grudges for a long time, only aided by that perfect memory of hers.

Snape slipped out of the shadows of the first floor corridor leading to the teacher's quarters, his tunnel-like eyes fixed on Hermione. Yet, Harry had noted that instead of resembling the usual empty tunnels, Snape's dark eyes were lit up with emotion. As to what emotion, Harry couldn't tell; Snape was still locked up tighter than a Gringotts vault. Was it lust or love? Harry didn't have enough experience to say for sure, but it was clear that Hermione's feelings were not the only ones involved.

Snape murmured something to Hermione, and she answered in the same low tone. A slow smile spread across his face, and he stepped aside, allowing Hermione through to the door presumably leading to his, no, their quarters. After she had closed the door behind her, Snape snatched his wand up and summoned Harry's cloak.

"Potter, did it ever occur to you that because Hermione can hear heartbeats from a distance, she can also recognise familiar ones? You've followed her for the last time under this."

Harry almost stopped breathing as Snape folded the Cloak up and put it in one of his pockets. "Sn..." He cut himself off, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "Professor, the Headmaster told me to keep my Cloak with me at all times."

"To attempt to spy on your friends? To follow your paramour, Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry flushed beetroot red at Snape's taunts. So the slippery spy knew that Harry was obsessed with Malfoy. Had Hermione told him? Snape was observant enough to notice without being told; if Hermione had let that slip, then his least favourite professor had probably already known.

"Sir, please. It's all I have left of my father." His trembling voice betrayed his fear and rising temper.

"Ah, yes. Your illustrious sire used this to play numerous so-called pranks on me. Have you used it for more deserving purposes? Have you never played pranks with this?"

At Harry's righteous protest that he hadn't, Snape reminded him of that day in Hogsmeade when he'd thrown mud at Malfoy outside the Shrieking Shack.

"I know better now. I was only thirteen then. Surely you did stupid things before. Sir. Lupin and Sirius told me that you gave as good as you got."

"Yes, as good as one against four could. So brave; four Gryffindor's against one Slytherin." Snape's tone was growing icier by the minute. Harry swallowed, wondering if he'd be able to get his precious Invisibility Cloak back. Would Dumbledore intervene?

"I'm sorry, sir. I know what it's like to be bullied. I'm not my father."

Snape glowered at Harry. "You're just as, if not more, arrogant as him. That prophecy may mean that you are the one who must defeat the Dark Lord, but is it true bravery to follow the path set by fate? Prophecies are self-fulfilling, after all."

"That damn prophecy doesn't say that I will kill him. I will succeed under my own merits. Wait a sec, how do you know... you bastard! You were the eavesdropper! You killed my parents!" Harry forgot all about his wand and launched himself at Snape, his fists flying.

Normally, Snape would have been prepared and sidestepped the punches, but he hadn't been expecting Harry to attack him. He grunted with pain as the first fist hit, falling to his knees, his wand rolling away out of reach. As Harry's anger built, so did the power of his punches. Snape tried to roll away, but only managed to partially deflect a particularly nasty kick to the groin, his face screwing up in agony as his eyes squeezed shut. Tears blurred Harry's vision even as he tried to revel in the pain he was causing to whom he perceived as the reason his parents were dead.

He kept up the attack, even as Snape fell to the floor of the corridor, curled up as much as he could in an attempt to protect himself. Even as he raised his knee to stomp on the prone man beneath him, he staggered back, clutching at his chest as it seemed like his heart was caught in an icy grip. After it had skipped several beats, it slowly returned to what felt like normal, if a little fast in his alarm at the scare.

"If you ever do that again, I'll keep it stopped." Cold fire seemed to drip from Hermione's words, who Harry suddenly noticed was kneeling beside Snape. Her eyes seemed darker than normal, almost matching Snape's in colour, but twice as cold. Harry shuddered; he could tell that she meant every word she said. He used a shaking hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

"He's the reason my parents are dead." Harry's voice cracked on his words.

"No, Potter. The reason your parents are dead is because the Dark Lord chose them. It could have been Neville Longbottom. There were several sources in the Hog's Head that night who heard what I did. I was not the only one who told him what I heard; although, I admit I deserved that," Snape said, his voice ragged. "Take it and go." He thrust the Invisibility Cloak at Harry.

'I'm not going to be expelled and thrown in Azkaban?!' Harry took the Cloak even as his jaw dropped. "I... I shouldn't have done that. Even if you deserved every bit of it, I'm no better than that murderer who killed them. Hermione, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Just go, Potter. I've had worse; that was hardly up to the Dark Lord's standards. He uses Unforgivables, not physical attacks."

Harry hurried away, wincing as he thought of the look in Hermione's eyes. He was going to get it. Perhaps an owl order to Honeydukes wouldn't be amiss, although chocolates wouldn't save him from an enraged Hermione.

Approximately a year's worth of Honeydukes finest did pacify Hermione somewhat, but she still tested a few hexes that she'd invented herself on the unfortunate Harry. Perhaps the one where she made him think he was naked in public when he wasn't was a little extreme, but the usage of a physical attack on the man she loved was also a little extreme.

As a prefect, it was among Hermione's duties to occasionally patrol the supposedly empty corridors of the castle in search of rule breakers. Severus seemed to view this time as an opportunity to risk being caught doing the same thing most of the out-of-bounds students did. The night of December first was no exception. She'd been well aware that he was lying in wait for her in the shadows behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy, but let him pull her behind it anyway.

Her ability to sense the heartbeats of distant people was invaluable in detecting sneaking students, resulting in plenty of detentions. Hermione was not popular with any house at the moment, as she had no qualms with cornering any of them; even Gryffindors weren't safe from her. Yet when she let Severus distract her, she couldn't hear his heartbeat except in the usual way with an ear pressed to his chest when he was pressed up close to her. She was certainly distracted when being thoroughly snogged by her lover, with straying hands on both parts loosening clothing to caress bare skin.

Neither of them registered approaching footsteps until a familiar voice called out: "Gotcha! Break it up, that'll be detention with your Heads of houses for..." Ron Weasley trailed off, his freckled face wavering between paling and flushing bright red as he registered exactly whom he'd caught. He gawped at them as he registered exactly how much skin was showing before focussing on Hermione. Not that he could see much, as Severus had snatched her up against him the moment he'd realised that they had an audience.

From the way Ron was fiddling with his wand, he was tempted to attack Severus, but afraid to do so from the wary glances he shot at them both.

"I suggest you go back to your duties, Weasley." Severus levelled his wand at Ron, having slipped it into his hand.

Ron's lips thinned, but he lowered his wand. He looked daggers at Severus then turned on his heel. The lanky redhead's dramatic exit was spoilt when Hermione called him back. It was perhaps the best revenge for what he'd attempted to do on Halloween, but she'd take pity on him just this once.

"Ron, one last thing..." Hermione's hold on her wand was hidden by Severus's body, allowing her to prepare the required spell. As Ron turned his head to frown back at her, mouth opening to ask what she wanted, she let the spell fly. 'Obliviate.'