Chapter Five - Awake, Arise, or Be Forever Fallen

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to JKR and/or Daniel Knauf. I do not profit from writing this story.

Author's Note: I send my gratitude to my beta, melusin, for giving me so much help with this story.

Numerous candles flickered on the marble counter, dimly lighting the steamy bathroom. Hermione raised both hands out of the lavender scented water, her prune-like fingers reminding her that she had been soaking for well over an hour.

Normally, she would bathe or shower as quickly as possible since there was only one bathroom on this landing. But, it was very late, so there was no harm in indulging oneself. With a relaxed sigh, she sank further into the water, accidentally wetting her hair which was coiled low on the nape of her neck. A slight chill grazed her damp shoulders, causing Hermione to reach for her wand.

"Relashio!"

Goosepimples broke out over her body as she gasped. Maybe, a little too hot.

She was trying to convince herself that she had purposely chosen to bathe this late so she wouldn't be disturbed, since most of the house was asleep. But, in reality, she knew that the later she stayed up, the greater her chances of catching Professor Snape when he returned in the dead of night.

It's the only way I'll be able to question him. He never makes himself available at a decent hour. It is essential that I obtain his advice before I go back to Hogwarts. Me... spying. She snorted.

She stopped her deliberations and frowned. I suppose you could describe my actions last night as a form of intelligence gathering. I didn't get caught, after all.

Last night. Since the moment she had woken up, Hermione could not help but repeatedly go over everything she had witnessed in Professor Snape's room. Her mind was totally fascinated by the dauntingly mysterious figure.

In particular, Hermione was notably troubled by the magnitude of her concern over his Slicing Hex. The image of his blood splattered body was ingrained in her mind. She pictured it every time she closed her eyes.

I have always known how much he sacrifices for the Order, but seeing him that way... I suppose I took his position for granted. Oh, gods, what about my responsibilities? I haven't the faintest idea how I'm supposed to spot traitors among the student body! To what extent will I need to go to complete my mission?

*** *** ***

Hermione tugged her large night robe closer to her body as she entered the library. Warmth flooded her when she noticed that the fire was already lit. She scanned the room, hoping to see Professor Snape.

As she eyed the two occupants seated around the ancient writing desk, she hastily tried to shake her perplexing disappointment.

The two men took no notice of Hermione and continued their sombre conversation in hushed tones. Remus sat bent over on his stool, face resting in the palms of his hands. He shook his head vigorously at whatever Sirius was telling him. Hermione could barely make out a few phrases.

"He shouldn't have asked it of you."

"I volunteered," Remus replied quickly. Catching himself, he raised his head to look pointedly at his dearest friend. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit."

"They were much more... coherent this time. Better then I expected." Remus sighed. "Never mind, I think I just need some sleep and I'll feel better."

Hermione noted that he was clothed in his tattered traveling cloak. His worn boots were caked in mud.

"Scourgify!"

Tucking her wand back into her robe pocket, she smiled as the grubby footprints vanished from the stone floor. Both men turned anxious faces in her direction to see who had entered the library.

"Must you dirty the one room that is my refuge, Remus?" she teased.

Looking at her with affectionate eyes, Remus replied, "I apologize, Hermione."

"No harm done. I didn't mean to bother the two of you. Goodnight."

Remus quickly rose from his seat and walked to the door. "No, please don't leave. I was just about to go to bed myself. I wouldn't dream of preventing you from using the library of all places." In his effort to be light-hearted, his sad smile was fairly obvious. "Besides, someone needs to take full advantage of this part of the house." He turned to Sirius. "We both know its owner never does."

"Ha, ha... " Sirius sulked as his two friends laughed at his expense.

"Goodnight, Hermione, Sirius."

Once the door closed behind him, Hermione turned to Sirius. "I really don't mind leaving if I am interrupting you."

"Don't be silly, Hermione, your presence is never an interruption." He smiled as he moved from the writing desk to the settee. "It's well after midnight. What are you doing up so late?"

Knowing the history between him and Professor Snape, Hermione knew it was not prudent to be entirely honest.

"Oh, you know... "

"Studying?" he interrupted her, a playful grin crossing his lips.

Nervously tucking a damp curl behind her ear, she nodded and picked up her pile of books, which were stacked on the end table. She settled herself on the other end of the settee, crossing her legs and opening a Potions book on her lap.

Sirius, on the other hand, had no books or writing material whatsoever. Ever the hot-blooded Gryffindor, he made no attempt to hide how intently he was gazing at her.

Hermione's eyes continued to roam over her textbook. "Don't you know it's not polite to stare?" she cheekily repeated his very own words.

Chastised, he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yes."

"Really, Sirius, how are you?"

He could have answered casually. He could have said "fine" or "tired" or something equally trite. But, by the sincere look in her eyes and the crease between her brow, Sirius felt compelled to answer her truthfully. Much to his dismay, the same question was being constantly asked of him since his... return. He had never given a sincere answer.

Sirius shifted hesitantly as he thought of something appropriate to say.

"I'm being intrusive. You don't have to answer that."

"No, no," he looked straight into her eyes and took a breath. "I'm not ready to go into much detail, Hermione, but I think I am ready to discuss it briefly with someone." He paused, then said sincerely, "With you."

An uncomfortable flush covered her throat. "You know I'm here for you. So, really, how have you been these past, what, five months?" It suddenly dawned on her. "My goodness, you mean to tell me you've been... back, for almost half a year and you have never talked to anyone about this?"

He turned away from her to distract himself with the fire. "I suppose not."

"Surely Professor Dumbledore would not have let so much time pass without demanding to know every detail?"

He chuckled indignantly at the mention of the Headmaster. "Come now, Hermione, do you really think that Dumbledore's knowledge of my situation was dependant on my narrative alone?"

Oh, right. This is the almighty, all-knowing Dumbledore we are discussing, she thought. "No, you're right."

She hoped he was not trying to change the subject or weasel his way out of telling her something about the veil. She adjusted herself on the settee, turning her body to face him as she tucked her bare feet under her night robe, making it obvious she was waiting for him to speak.

Maybe this was a bad idea, Sirius thought. He raised a hand to his face, stroking his fingers through his bearded chin. His resolve finally returned when he turned to look at her. Her eyes captivated him, calling up some of the most simple human emotions he thought he had lost forever.

"To answer your original question, my current state of being could be summed up as... surviving."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise; her mouth opened in readiness for a multitude of questions.

"No, please, Hermione. No more interrogations. Surviving is an adequate term and you are free to assume anything it implies. Merlin knows it's all true," he sighed. "And, please don't mention any of this to Harry."

"He's worried about you," Hermione countered.

"Exactly, and I have no comforting truths to tell him."

An immense feeling of sympathy swamped Hermione as she watched Sirius' face fall. She wanted to help him somehow, but she needed to know the problem first. After this little conversation, she had more questions about the veil then ever.

"That's enough of that. How are you this evening, Hermione? Or should I say this morning. I hope this hasn't become a recent habit?"

"All summer actually. I sleep when I sleep, I suppose."

"That won't do at all," he frowned. "As host, I demand that you go to bed at once and catch up on your beauty sleep." Grinning devilishly, his eyes raked over her. "Not that you need it, of course."

Hermione fiddled with the pages of her textbook, nodding her head to accept his compliment.

Hermione was not completely oblivious to Sirius' charming nature. He always playfully complimented his female companions. Ginny was regularly admired by him for her extensive knowledge of jinxes, for example. He also consistently complemented Mrs. Weasley's cooking and proclaimed his want of a dotting wife such as her. And, ever since her third year, Hermione loved to hear him habitually revel in the extent of her intellect. He truly believed her vast knowledge of magic outshone any pureblood alive today.

However, since his return, Sirius' compliments to Hermione had become more frequent and no longer concerned her intelligence or her mind; and it was painfully obvious to her too.

He noticed her uneasiness. "So, are you excited about being Head Girl?"

Her face quickly showed her dismay at Sirius' question. Am I excited? No, not really. I was determined to hand Professor Dumbledore my badge so I could focus more of my energies for the Order. Now, my one chance to do something significant is in the very position I do not want. I'm definitely not excited, but I am eager to help the Headmaster.

"Hermione? Are you all right?"

Her head snapped back to attention. "Hmm? Oh, yes, of course I'm excited."

"Don't fret over it to much, love. Dumbledore hasn't even given you any details or directions yet." He smiled warmly at her. "Knowing you, I'm sure you are dissecting this from every angle already."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," she laughed.

"Well, I'm off to bed." Sirius casually rose from the settee to stand by her side. "Try not to stay up too late." Without hesitation, he gently grasped Hermione's hand.

Hermione swallowed thickly as his lips brushed her knuckles.

"Night, Sirius."

*** *** ***

A couple of days later, Hermione found herself seated against the settee, yet again, as she frantically tried to concentrate on her studying. Her Potions book seemed to be the only one she was able to focus on, unlike the Arithmancy text on her lap.

She was starting to get angry, now, by how often her emotions could so easily distract her at times like this. This was not like her. Hermione was studious, precise, always in control. Nothing had ever been able to lessen her control.

She was dismayed by how much she had been thinking about Professor Snape and Sirius Black for the last hour. Hermione may not have been very experienced in the ways of love, but she was not stupid. She knew Sirius was showing more then his typical friendly behavior towards her, but she did not know exactly how she felt about that.

Hermione did have to admit that she was more then flattered that Sirius would show such attentions to her. He acted so very sweet and polite all the time. His controlled flirtations reminded her very much of Viktor.

"But, that didn't end too well." Frankly, Sirius did not light the flame that seemed to spark in her from time to time.

SLAM!

Hermione flinched for the second time at the sound of the front door closing. She waited patiently for the screaming to begin.

But it never came.

She quickly cracked open the library door and was shocked to see Madam Black's portrait curtains still closed. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the tail of some familiar black robes ascend the stairs and out of her view.

Hermione's heart raced rapidly as she flung the library door open. Follow him, she told herself. Follow him!

He's going to his bedroom. This isn't right.

Another voice popped into her head. That didn't stop you the other night, though, did it?

Regardless of what she was thinking, Hermione's traitorous body slowly ascended the stairs leading to the second-floor landing.

She hesitated when she reached the last step.

The granite floor sent a piercing chill through her bare feet. Not a single candle was lit along the dark corridor. She was tempted to draw her wand to light her way, but she did not want to attract unwanted attention to herself.

Hermione dragged her fingertips along the chipped paint of the wall to guide her way down to his room. She tried to be as quite as possible, but her breaths came out clipped and anxious.

She stopped before she turned the corner at the end of the corridor. Only Snape's room lay around the bend.

She tightened her night robe closer to her body as the chill intensified. Fires were not lit very often on this floor of the house.

Hermione slowly closed and opened her eyes as she attempted to summon up the final nerve. Exhaling a panicked breath, she finally turned down the second corridor.

Her heart jumped into her throat as a strong, cold hand closed tightly around her neck. She was barely able to make more then a terrified squeak due to the lack of air in her lungs. She felt the tip of a wand point at her chest as she was fiercely thrust against the stone wall.

"What the hell are you doing up here?" an angry voice hissed next to her ear.

Hermione attempted to swallow a few times before she tried to speak. She could feel the muscles in her neck ripple against his hand.

Finally, Snape slightly lessened his grip, allowing her to talk.

"I'm... I'm sorry." Her senses were overwhelmed; she could not bring herself to raise her head higher then the view of his collar. He smelled of smoky burnt wood, dry soap and sweat. From the rise and fall of his chest, she detected that his breathing was quick, yet steady. Very much like the other night in his room...

Removing his wand from her chest, she felt him place the tip firmly under her chin. If he hexed her, she did not want to think of where it would cause the most damage.

Ever so slowly, he lifted her head with his wand, guiding her to look at him.

Hermione internally gasped as she stared into two incisive black eyes. She had never looked at him so intently before, nor been so close.

"Why were you following me? Do not make me repeat myself, Miss Granger. "

Standing so close, she could feel his low, furious voice deeply resonate through every bone in her body. She was terrified.

"I wanted to talk to you... sir," she breathed.

He raised an eyebrow in irritation. "Do you have any idea what time it is? I find it extremely hard to believe that you followed me to my bedroom in the hopes of striking up a friendly conversation," he sneered.

"You're never here earlier then this. I've been wanting to talk to you all week... " She stopped speaking when his eyes suddenly narrowed. She wondered if perhaps she had revealed a bit more information then she should have.

"Now, why would you do something like that?" he hissed through clenched teeth. The question sounded more like a threat as he tightened his grip on her throat once more. Snape inched his face closer with every sneered word.

His breath felt hot, burning her chilled face. It smelled of dry wine.

"Professor Dumbledore's assignment for me." She noticed his eyebrow rise again.

"I haven't a clue as to what I am supposed to do." There she had said it; maybe not as eloquently as she had wanted, but well enough under the current conditions. She was dismayed at her erratic breathing while she waited for him to say something. She could feel her chest heaving against his forearm with each intake of air.

"I fail to see how this should concern me," he drawled.

"I thought that maybe... because of your position in the Order... you could... " Hermione sounded like she had in the kitchen a week ago and she loathed herself for it.

Suddenly, he moved his firm grasp from her throat to her chin. "This is not amusing me, Miss Granger. Speak clearly before my patience runs out and I throw you down the stairs." Annoyance dripped from every word.

She unconsciously raised both of her hands to the one on her chin. Firmly placing her palms around his wrist, she said, "Dumbledore wants me to spy on the students and I am clueless about where to begin. I thought that, perhaps, I could benefit from your tutelage." The words quickly spilled out her mouth.

He raised an eyebrow mockingly as the corner of his lip twitched. "What on earth gave you the impression that I would care?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply.

"No, I do not want to hear it. I DO NOT have any desire to baby-sit you, Miss Granger. I heard your obnoxiously loud breathing and thunderous footsteps from the first-floor landing. Whatever possessed the Headmaster to give such an assignment to a raucous Gryffindor like you is far beyond my comprehension. Do not waste my time again."

To add insult to injury, the large hand under her chin applied a strong shove toward the first corridor, signalling her dismissal.

Hermione watched him walk to his bedroom at the end of the corridor. She stood in the same place against the wall, dumbfounded as his words sunk in. Snape slamming the door closed behind him, with no thought of sending her a backward glance, finally caused tears to trail down her face.

*** *** ***

"So, what do you lot want to do today?" asked Harry as he spread more marmalade on his toast.

"We could go out into the garden and play Quidditch," suggested Ron.

"Ugh, Quidditch!"

"Aw, come on, Hermione, just this once," Ron pleaded as he mockingly batted his eyelids.

"No, Ron. I can't believe you are thick enough to even ask," she said icily.

"Ignore her, she's been in a snit all morning," laughed Ginny.

"I can tell," mumbled Ron.

"And, for Merlin's sake, swallow THEN talk, Ronald! I'm sick of nagging you."

"Oh, really? Not as sick as I am, believe me."

"Calm down, now," said Mrs. Weasley, placing a jug of milk on the table. "I want all of you to stay out of the kitchen this afternoon while I get it ready for the Order meeting tonight."

Forks dropped all across the table, initiating a series of clangs.

"There's a meeting tonight?" gasped Harry. "Why wasn't I told?"

"Calm down, dear, you are being told now, aren't you?"

"My gods, something's happened. What's happened Mrs. Weasley? Who's been attacked?"

Mrs. Weasley sat down gently next to Hermione, attempting to offer the motherly comfort that came naturally to her. "It's nothing like that, dear. School starts on Monday, and Dumbledore just wants to check in with everyone beforehand."

"Oh, thank goodness," Hermione breathed. Another question crossed her mind as she hesitantly poked her eggs with her fork. "Will Professor Snape be here?" she asked.

"Greasy git."

"Ron!"

"Sorry, Mum," he mumbled.

"You know, I'm getting really fed up with you children showing such disrespect towards one of your Professors. I'm sure you wouldn't appreciate it if the Slytherin students said similar things about Professor McGonagall."

"We get it, Mum. We know he's in the Order and all that, but that doesn't change the fact that he treats us horribly."

"You know he has to for... "

"Bollocks!" shouted Harry. He was about to continue with his outburst before he realized who he was talking to.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley," he said, eyes downcast. "Look," Harry continued after a second thought, "you've seen how he acts outside Hogwarts. There's no reason for him to be nasty to us here if his audience isn't around. He's a git because he likes being a git. And, if he doesn't stop goading Sirius, then I swear I will hex him myself!" With Mrs. Weasley in the room, the nasty tirade spilled out of Harry's mouth as calmly as he was able to before he slowly pushed himself away from the table.

"Harry!" Hermione called as he reached the door.

"Just leave it, Hermione," he said in exasperation before finally exiting.

"Why did you bring up the great bat anyway?" moaned Ron.

Mrs. Weasley quickly rose from her seat to leave the kitchen. She did not see the point of disciplining their behavior if they were not even going to be polite for her sake.

"I hope you're not attempting to blame Harry's immature outburst on me?" Hermione hissed.

"You know how he gets. Maybe, if you stopped sticking up for the bastard all the bloody time--"

"Sticking up for him and remaining silent when you two insult him are two very different things, Ron. I wouldn't expect you to have noticed, but I haven't even bothered to ask you lot to give him the minimal amount of respect he deserves in ages. If the both of you are too dim to heed my advice, then I won't waste my time. In the same respect, since I don't expect you two to become friendly with Professor Snape anytime soon, I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to convince me to agree with your assessment of him. Obviously, my insulting him is not going to happen anytime soon either!"

During her outburst, Ron's face had gone from a shade of pink to scarlet red. He quickly stood up from his seat and leaned over the table towards her.

Ginny swiftly placed a firm grasp on his arm. "Calm down, Ron."

He angrily turned to his sister. "ME calm down? Did you hear what she said? She's mental to be sticking up for the greasy bastard!"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she pushed back her chair from the table. "Ugh, don't bother, Ginny. He obviously didn't hear a word I said."

*** *** ***

"I cannot wait for the first day of class!" exclaimed Hermione as she threw herself on her duvet. Even as she tried to relax, she could not stop the anxious shaking of her left foot which was hanging off the corner of her bed. She needed to get out of this house.

"I can wait. I'm not looking forward to the larger workload very much," sighed Ginny, as she lazily sprawled herself on the dusty window seat.

"It's your sixth year, Ginny! You've passed your OWLs, and your NEWTs are pretty far off. Enjoy the lack of stress while you can."

"I'm sorry," she laughed. "That's not very reassuring coming from you." Ginny leaned further into the window seat, pulling her knees against her chest. Attempting to settle herself, she was distracted by a rustling under the cushion behind her back.

"Hermione, what is this?" she asked, pulling rolls of crumpled parchment from the cushion.

"Oh!" Hermione bolted from the bed and snatched the parchment from her fingers.

She flushed when the redhead's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"It's just a few letters I've written to my parents."

"A few?" she snorted. "I thought Professor Dumbledore said you couldn't... "

"Obviously, I haven't Owled any of them," Hermione snapped, crossing her arms.

Ginny turned her head away, getting up to walk to her four-poster.

What am I doing? "I'm sorry, Ginny. I didn't mean to snap at you." Hermione immediately took the seat vacated by Ginny and slid her hands through the hair at her temples.

"I've been a right hag all day today. I don't know what's got into me lately." Hermione closed her eyes as she pulled at the hair in her fingers. Pain seemed to make the fuzziness behind her eyebrows go away.

"I've noticed," Ginny said blankly, crossing her arms.

Hermione's head quickly rose up to eye the younger girl. Both stared at each other waiting for the other to back down first. Try as they might, neither could stop the smiles that slowly appeared on their faces.

"Don't fret, Hermione. The boys will calm down eventually and understand that you're just worried about your parents."

"Hmm... yes, of course." How horrid am I? I have not thought of my family all week! I even left my stack of letters there. But, I can't very well tell Ginny the reason for my current temper. Hermione forced herself to snap out of her selfish musings.

"Look at me, sitting here and worrying only about myself. How are you doing, Ginny?"

Gathering her hair up to pull it into a high ponytail, Ginny shrugged her shoulders dismissively.

"I've noticed that you've stopped ignoring Harry," Hermione continued sympathetically.

"Our rooms are down the hall from each other. We sit at the same table three times a day." Ginny's voice hitched uncontrollably. She coughed, clearing her throat before she continued. "It was just too hard," she said quietly.

"Things will improve," Hermione reassured her.

Seeing Ginny still obviously distraught over her break from Harry shamed Hermione. She'd been so self-absorbed in her own affairs all week; even more so this morning.

Since she had run down the stairs late the previous evening, face wet with humiliation, Hermione could not stop thinking about her Professor. She especially could not stop thinking about his angry words.

She already had far too many reservations of her own when it came to being Dumbledore's eyes and ears within the student population, but to hear Snape, a Hogwarts' Professor and spy for the Headmaster himself dismiss her talents, or lack thereof, was a punch in the gut. His words had hurt her more then his painful grip on her throat or the fact that he had actually pulled his wand on her. When it came to obtaining his acceptance and praise, she hardly ever took offence at his violent attitude towards her.

Hermione figured that as a spy, he had to be exceptionally powerful and menacing. As perverse as it sounded, she almost felt it a privilege for him to show that side of his character to her. He was intense... Terrifying... He made her breath hitch in her throat.

Seeing that quality of Snape's character, his true nature, scared her immensely. But, try as hard as she might, she could not shake the desire to see him like that again.

Ron's right. I am mad.

*** *** ***

Tall, chapel sized windows lined the master bedroom on the second-floor landing. The curtains seemed almost petrified, evidence of the lack of air flowing through the room. The midmorning sun illuminated the deteriorating furniture that was haphazardly scattered around the massive four-poster bed.

A jug of contaminated juice sat on the end table beside a dirty glass.

Sirius slept fitfully.

He knew he was asleep. He could tell by the lack of movement of his limbs in his hazed mind. He convinced himself that his eyes were half-open, when in fact his sleep induced brain had perfectly imagined the interior of his bedroom. Anxiously, Sirius tried to kick his legs to make his body rouse out of slumber.

A periodic ticking suddenly caused his left ear to strain. Sirius' body froze as his thoughts concentrated on the rhythmic beat.

These were the worst kind of nightmares. The mind is never meant to be fully conscious while the body sleeps. Such things occasionally happen to normal individuals, but it had not happened to Sirius all year. He had never allowed himself to fall into sleep this deeply. It was too dangerous.

He had slept deeply last night.

Sirius could feel his heart pounding in his ears as an immense terror dulled his thinking. The ticking was getting louder in his mind. He closed his eyes in pain as his heart continued its speedy, irregular beating. A mysterious invisible weight crushed the air from his lungs, preventing his body from drawing oxygen.

For the love of Merlin, I need to wake up. Please, gods, make me wake up!

In his mind, he willed his limbs to flail and thrash against the bed, but his body barely twitched.

To his horror, as the painful weight intensified all around his body, he could hear the ticking slow down, ticking irregularly. He could feel the beating of his heart slowing down, beating irregularly.

Dripping in sweat, Sirius' body finally coordinated with his mind as he sat upright with a petrified wail. He flung his body to the left, knocking the sticky juice all over his legs and the floor.

His shaking fingers desperately grabbed the black pocket-watch from its perch on the end table. Once it was steady in his fingers, Sirius wrenched the latch open, noticing that the ticking continued to slow down as the face-plate began to glow red.

Sirius' breathing heaved while he attempted to wind the pocket-watch. The muscles in his forearms ached with each movement of his fingers. He concentrated on not passing out until the pocket watch was wound twelve times -- one turn for each hour.

The shiny, black metal timepiece began to tick rapidly once more, as the face plate returned to white.

Gasping hysterically, Sirius hurled his fatigued body back against his bed, while his hands cradled the skin directly above his heart.

He concentrated on the steady ticking by his pillow as he willed his emotions to calm down. He could feel his eyes closing involuntarily as he focused on the steady beating below his palm. Sirius did not need sleep, he had had more than enough in his opinion, but his body was no longer under his control as all his limbs sagged unresponsively against the bed. Sirius just could not handle the mental and physical trauma of keeping himself alive. His body slipped into unconsciousness to heal itself.

Author's Notes: Story beta'ed by the brilliant melusin.

-Chapter title taken from John Milton's Paradise Lost, Book i. Line 330.

-Free pack of Cockroach Clusters for anyone who can guess where I received the inspiration for this last scene.

Next up: Dumbledore catches up with the Order before the first day of school approaches, and shocks all by giving Sirius his own assignment. Hermione still doesn't learn, and Snape has finally lost patience with her. Harry reveals what he has been doing over the summer, leading to a very awful night.