Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry, oh how I wish I did and I could have my way with him and so many other ickle characters. Alas, I am poor and pathetically obsessed with the world of Harry Potter so I only can write about him.

if i had a bill for all the philosophies i shared

Album: Feast on Scraps

She knew that there was no use trying to eavesdrop on the Order members, their silencing charms were unbreakable. As much as she wanted to know what was going on, she knew that waiting on the stairs until the end of the meeting was useless. If Mrs Weasley caught her there, she would fret over why Hermione was not in bed yet. If Snape, on the other hand, was the one to find her here, she would get an earful of snide comments on nosy Gryffindors. Hermione did not want to have to put up with either of those reactions tonight.

She glumly climbed the stairs, telling herself that actually going to bed was best. Once she reached her room, she quickly changed into her nightgown and climbed into bed. Hermione's head hit the pillow with a soft thump. She tried taking several deep breaths; that usually helped to calm her thoughts so she could fall asleep.

However, sleep was elusive. The quiet time, while she was lying in her bed, was always the hardest time for Hermione; her thoughts fluttered about, like a butterfly on errant breezes, landing briefly on "what-ifs before being tossed to could-haves. Tonight was no exception as her thoughts turned to Harry, who she had not heard from for a few weeks.

That she worried about him came as no big shock to her, for truthfully most everyone who knew him did at some time or other. The years had been hard on Harry, even before he had found out that he was a wizard and had the fate of the Wizarding world placed squarely on his shoulders. Hermione had been shocked last year when he had confided in her that he had slept for ten years not in a bedroom, but a cupboard, and when not in his cupboard, he was treated like a house-elf. However, shocking as that revelation was to her, it had answered a lot of questions she had about him: where the poor self-esteem, the desire to prove himself and even his anger had come from. Even with a multitude of other emotional problems, it was his anger that worried her the most; when Harry was angry he did not listen to reason ... or anything else, for that matter.

He had been having an even rougher time since Sirius had died in their fifth year. It was as if grief consumed him, and it did not help matters that Harry blamed himself for the attack at the Department of Mysteries. She wished that there were something she could do to help him get over the loss of the only father figure he had ever known, but she had to accept that the only thing she could do was be there for him when he needed her.

Her thoughts slowly shifted from Harry to the other complicated man in her life, Severus Snape. Oh, how she wished he would allow her to get close, the longing and needing she felt to get to know this man, it was more than she could handle sometimes. Never before had she felt so enamoured by anyone, the dreams she was having of allowing him to possess her fully had her awaking with her body throbbing in a way she had never known before.

It was with those sweet thoughts that she finally drifted off to sleep.

***

She felt stream of feather-light kisses on her neck and moved her head slightly to give him better access to her neck. A strong arm wrapped around her waist pulling her into his hard body. As she moaned her pleasure at the attention, his lips started sucking and nibbling her earlobe as he rubbed the proof of his arousal into her back.

"I like the sound of that." He chuckled seductively against her neck.

She woke with a gasp, 'Oh, what a dream,' she thought.

Her body was thrumming from the arousal her dream had brought her. Her hand slid down her body and slipped into her knickers as she replayed the dream in her head, her own fingers bringing her to orgasm as she imagined Severus touching her.

Sated, Hermione rolled back onto her side, curling around a pillow she pretended to be her dream lover; she fell into a deep slumber.

***

With the long and tedious order meeting over, Severus walked over to Dumbledore and inquired if they could talk privately in the library.

"Of course, Severus," he replied.

They both walked in a companionable silence, the short distance to the library. Once they entered Dumbledore sat heavily on the couch, his age showing more as the night wore on.

"What did you need to speak of, Severus?"

"It is the potion, Albus. I am not certain that it is possible to remove the magic from the Dark Lord with a potion. And how are we supposed to deliver the potion once it has been created? How it will affect his serpentine characteristics?"

"You have done difficult things before, what makes this one seem so impossible?"

The answer to that question ran through his head as he surveyed the aging headmaster in front of him. He noticed how the normally robust headmaster was looking frail and extremely tired. Worrying about how this war was affecting his mentor and friend, as he thought over his answer carefully.

Sinking into the overstuffed chair that was directly across from Dumbledore, he felt a horrid headache coming on.

"It is the uncertainty of it all; our whole success rests with this idea which is basically a potion that is not even created, an unknown way of dosing it, and the issue of not knowing how his transformed body will be affected. It is all one big question! Put that together with the short amount of time we have to accomplish said feats, it is not conducive to feeling certain that this plan will work."

Dumbledore rose from his seat and walked the few steps to stand beside Snape. Placing his old weathered hand on Severus' shoulder he stated, "My son, sometimes the tasks that we must do seem impossible, however, I know that you and Ms. Granger will be able to overcome these issues. I know it because you have my faith. For years, Severus, you have been doing things that others think are impossible. This will just be another one for you to astound me with."

Snape raised his head to look into the eyes of the great wizard that stood beside him and saw the proud ... almost parental ... gleam that his mentor's aged eyes held. He felt a surge of protectiveness towards this man and knew that for him he would do anything.

"Thank you, Albus."

Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder for another second, showing his support of the younger wizard. "Severus, I think it is time to turn in. It will be another long day tomorrow."

***

Snape slowly made his way back through the gates of Hogwarts, his mind running over the night's events. The Dark Lord's order to bring the Potter boy to him was worrisome. No matter how much he disliked the boy, Snape would not wish the wrath of that beast on anyone. However, ignoring the Dark Lord's direct order was suicide and he was not yet ready to die.

As continued up the path to the castle he was again thankful that it was not yet term time and he did not yet have to deal with the dunderheads, after a night like this. All he wanted to do now was to grab a quick shower and down the bottle of Dreamless Sleep. The after effects of the Cruciatus Curse would be easier to handle after a good night's sleep.

He quickly muttered his password and entered into his quarters. Walking straight though his sitting room and into the bathroom, he quickly stripped out of his clothes, turned on the shower all the way up, and welcomed the blissfully hot water that ran over him. Slowly he felt the tension of the day being drawn out by the pulsating water and thick steam.

With the water running over him, he allowed his mind to wander over the complexities of their current situation. The best thing to do was to take Harry Potter out of his grasp in a very public way, one that would not leave a doubt in the Dark Lord's mind, that Snape could not produce him or that anyone even knew of his location. But, how could they accomplish this feat?

He wondered if a public argument and subsequent disappearance would work. Would it be a stretch for them to have such a falling out? He knew it would not hard for him to paint Potter in strife with Dumbledore, their relationship since fifth year had been strained, to say the least. Even, Malfoy would certainly be able to back his report to the Dark Lord, for surely Lucius heard enough complaints about Potter from his son.

It seemed like this was to be the mostly likely solution to their problems. By placing Potter out of reach, the Dark Lord would be pleased to know that there were significant issues separating them. This might even buy them enough time to finish the potion and solve the other problems surrounding its use.

Feeling more relaxed about the situation he turned off the shower, dried himself, and dressed in his nightshirt.

I want to thank my beta jedikeladry without her; this story would not be nearly as good. I also want to thank notsosaintly, who has provided encouragement that has kept me going.