Chapter Twelve - Conscience Wakes Despair, Wakes the Bitter Memory

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

Author's Notes: My beta, melusin, has greatly improved this story.

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Kicking a flat pebble with his foot, Harry watched as it evenly skidded along the surface of the lake. He silently observed the steady ripples disturb the smooth dark waters, spreading away from him.

These past couple of weeks, he had been finding the confines of the castle more and more stifling. If he wasn't being forced to watch Ginny's growing attraction towards Seamus, then he was forced to experience Lavender's growing attraction towards himself. Outside, the sharp chill of the abysmal weather always seemed to improve his mood for some reason.

I'm such an idiot. He had let things escalate too far with Lavender the other night. His mind knew that getting physical with the girl was foolish, but he couldn't help but be tempted by the thought of another encounter.

Look at me, Harry laughed to himself with a shake of his head. Pacing around Hogwarts' grounds without the faintest idea of where I'm going.

Now Harry understood why the headmaster had lived so strongly and vibrantly past his one hundredth birthday. Obsessive walking not only helped to clear the mind, but served the health of the body as well.

Lifting his eyes toward the subtle orange afterglow of the setting sun, Harry saw the shadowy outline of the massive Quidditch pitch, thrown into relief against the sun's fading rays.

Thursday, he reminded himself. The Hufflepuff team will be practicing tonight.

He decided to continue his mind-clearing amble in an environment he truly treasured.

The moment Harry entered the Quidditch pitch, he shook his head, smiling at the spectacle of violet robes fluttering in the steady wind. He ascended the stands toward the peculiar scene.

"Even when the weather is abysmal, you still come out to watch the Quidditch practices."

Dumbledore looked up toward Harry, face alit in delight, eyes twinkling as he smiled. Harry suddenly paused, finally realizing what was so altered about the headmaster this year. Dumbledore used to be very good at constantly maintaining his optimistic glow. One thing that always seemed unchanging, as the war escalated into madness, was that blasted twinkle. But seeing it now, under a darkening October sky, Harry recognized how rare a sight it had become. The old man's pure light was fading away.

Dumbledore turned back toward the screams and yells of the Hufflepuff team. "Yes," he answered, "but I think it makes the young ones nervous." Scooting a bit to one side, Dumbledore motioned for Harry to have a seat beside him.

"It certainly made me nervous."

"Perhaps, but you were splendid nonetheless." Still smiling, Dumbledore turned to the young man at his side. "Do you miss it, Harry?"

"Of course, but I just don't have the time for it now." Glancing down, Harry hesitantly began to peel the chipped blue paint off the wooden seats. "I was hoping I would be able to spend more time looking for the missing... "

"Soon, Harry. But not yet." Dumbledore sighed, turning back toward the practice.

"Why? If I can't be harmed destroying them, then what else is there to fear? What in Merlin's name am I waiting for?"

Dumbledore shook his head in disappointment -- either at himself for keeping so much from him, or at Harry, expecting the boy to know all the answers... Harry wasn't sure which.

"That's just it, Harry. Because you cannot be harmed, it will be far too tempting to destroy them the second they are within your grasp. I learned that mistake myself." With a morbid smile, Dumbledore lightly raised his damaged arm to stress his point.

"Did you know that would happen?" Harry motioned toward Dumbledore's blackened skin with a nod of his head.

"I had my suspicions, but I needed to be sure. Remember, there is much about this... balance that I wasn't sure of myself. I saw how flawlessly you destroyed Tom's dairy and questioned if it was within my realm of power to destroy a Horcrux as well." Dumbledore sighed. "Now, taking everything into consideration: Regulus' death, your perfect health, and my deteriorating body, I felt certain that this balance was real and true. There will come a time, very soon, when you will find it easy to find the remaining Horcruxes, but be cautious. I don't want you to make Voldemort too fragile before it is his time."

This was the point where Harry was supposed to shout and throw something in frustration. The fact that he could recognize that in his own behavior spoke volumes. Looking out onto the pitch, he laughed at the sight of a gangly second year dangling from a runaway broom by one hand. "This is about the One after Voldemort, isn't it?"

"Yes," Dumbledore admitted immediately.

"Do you know who he is?"

"I have my suspicions."

Harry turned toward his mentor. "Who do you think-- "

"Please, Harry. Forgive me for keeping this from you, but I need to be absolutely sure first." Dumbledore opened his mouth to continue, but closed it again after a moment's hesitation.

Observing the old wizard shake his head one more time, Harry knew he was having some type of struggle in his mind.

"You see," Dumbledore spoke quietly, "twenty-two years ago, I was so certain I knew who the next Dark Lord would be."

Dumbledore's eyes glossed over before he closed them in agony.

"But I was wrong... and the aftermath of my actions was... incomprehensible."

Knowing when to admit defeat, Harry turned back toward the energetic group of players. They appeared so small, so innocent. Is that what he looked like when he was in his second and third year? No, he must have looked much worse. Years of neglect and malnourishment from living with his aunt and uncle had made him one of the shortest in his year. Pulling his eyes away from the Quidditch pitch, Harry looked down at the sudden firm grip on his forearm.

Dumbledore gazed at Harry miserably. The internal monologue begged to spill from his exhausted eyes.

"Oh... forgive me, Harry," he said dejectedly.

Harry didn't want Dumbledore to keep something else from him, but he couldn't help but think that the man was overreacting. He understood the need to be cautious.

"It's all right," Harry said reassuringly. "I'm sure you'll tell me soon enough."

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, very soon."

*** *** ***

Grey and black were pressing against him, threatening to swallow up his sanity.

Closing his eyes in pain, Snape raised his hands and pressed his calloused fingertips against his throbbing temples. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he was loath to disturb his equilibrium by attempting to steady his weight on the floor.

Sighing in defeat, Snape reluctantly placed his bare feet on the carpeted stone, daring to make his way to the bathroom. Finally opening his eyes, the hazy colors of the grey and black stone walls of his bedroom chambers swirled around him, pushing against the veins on both sides of his head.

He groaned silently, unwilling to experience this hangover.

Friday, his mind moaned triumphantly. Once inside his bathroom, Snape reached into a cabinet for a potion to relieve his headache.

Just get through the day, and I'll have a full forty-eight hours to be by myself with no dunderheaded students to tolerate.

He raised the cool glass to his mouth, swallowing the contents in one deep gulp.

Or not. Mind finally clear, Snape smirked to himself as he remembered another responsibility he would have to attend to this weekend. The image of a breathless Hermione Granger sitting atop his writing desk flashed through his mind.

No, he wouldn't be by himself at all.

*** *** ***

Stop it, Hermione, she scolded herself.

Sitting at the back of her Advanced Arithmancy class, Hermione kept finding herself turning away from her professor as she allowed her eyes to wander towards the grounds outside the tall windows.

She just had so much on her mind. Most of it was worth analyzing, but Hermione should have been spending this time on her studies.

Sirius... She sighed, supporting her chin with her hand.

As much as she was reluctant to think about the man for a second longer than necessary, Hermione found it more and more essential that she did.

What is your secret?

Their argument last night in the corridor distressed her, but she had to acknowledge it had been well worth it. She had just been so incensed at his selfishness -- constantly ignoring her fears and doubts -- so she had held nothing back. He had almost seemed frightened of her.

But at least he now knows his place.

Maybe now she could attempt to spend more time with him without worrying over how he would interpret her actions. She hated the idea of treading on eggshells to guarantee that he wouldn't get the wrong impression. But the notion of being alone with Sirius did not lighten her mood. She hadn't been lying when she had told him that she esteemed his friendship. Back in her fifth year, she had appreciated his humor for what it was and had actually enjoyed his comical interactions with Harry, Ron, and Lupin.

But something about him now seemed so... erratic -- much more reckless than before.

What happened to you? Hermione had her suspicions but she wasn't certain. It obviously has something to do with the veil.

Her ears strained from time to time, picking up on her professor's speech patterns. Detecting her tone turning very precise and deliberate, Hermione hastened to write down everything she was saying.

Twirling her auburn quill in her fingers, Hermione's thoughts turned to Professor Dumbledore's interest in Sirius.

Even the headmaster has Severus attempting to spy on him. She agreed with the headmaster's assessment; if it's personal information he needs that could only be obtained through friendship, in which case Severus just would not do.

Her eyes couldn't help but close slightly at the thought of her Potions master; her lips rose into an unconscious smile.

I wonder how much Severus knows of my orders?

Hermione jerked in her seat at the sight of several hands shooting up into the air. Shaking her distracting thoughts, she attempted to pull herself together.

The days were passing, and she didn't enjoy feeling like she was getting so little done.

*** *** ***

If Hermione thought she had difficulty concentrating during her morning classes, it was nothing compared to Advanced Potions.

Sitting at one of the front worktables, Hermione was keenly sensitive to Professor Snape's presence as he moved about the classroom. Situated there, eyes drawn to him, she was overwhelmed with the knowledge that everything in her manner and speech needed to display a typical student and professor relationship. Because it was essential that she act naturally, she was finding it more and more difficult to comply.

Everything about him distracted her. His lecture failed to grasp her intellectually, as she concentrated on the velvety tones of his voice -- a voice that had spoken directly into her ear as he traced his calloused fingers across her collarbone. His severe eyes, instilling discipline and authority in her classmates, did nothing but arouse the memory of his passion for her. It drove a tingling fire in her belly every time she remembered his lips upon hers.

This class was torture.

Hermione knew that if she wanted to appear entirely unaffected, than she needed to gaze up at her Potions master from time to time. But whenever she met his eye, she would quickly look down at her textbook as a scorching flush swept up her neck.

"Now," Snape's menacing voice drawled, "who can tell me the many uses of Graphorn parts?"

A hesitant silence swept across the lab room.

"Miss Granger," Snape sneered.

Hermione's head snapped up from her Potions text. She inhaled as she met his eyes. "I-I didn't have my hand raised... sir."

Arching an eyebrow, Snape glided down from his desk to stand in front of her worktable.

"Seeing as I have two functioning eyes, I am quite aware of that. But since your arm did not immediately rise into the air, in all its irritating glory, I find myself wondering if you are ill."

Hermione's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Did he really expect her to answer that?

"I am waiting... " he drawled.

He's baiting me! No longer too timid to catch his eye, Hermione looked at him and made no attempt to mask her irritation

"No, sir, I am not ill."

"Well then, by all means," Snape said with a wave of his arm, "enlighten this room with the answer."

Hermione's breathing started to quicken as an irked flame blazed in her chest. For once, she had absolutely no desire to prove her knowledge.

The second she opened her mouth, she knew what she was about to say was horrid, but she didn't care.

"No."

Intakes of breath washed across the room in waves.

Professor Snape's eyes widened before narrowing dangerously. "What did you say?"

"No, Professor, I will not enlighten this room with the answer."

"Bugger," Ron breathed behind her. "I'm having that dream again. Harry, pinch me!"

"Shut up, Weasley!" Snape snarled. He stormed around Hermione's worktable, leaning threateningly over her seat.

The class gasped again at the sight of Hermione's humored smile.

"I am giving you one last chance, Miss Granger." His low tones sparked the memory of her perch on the edge of his writing desk. Yet Hermione refused to back down.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione spoke innocently. "You see, I cannot tell the class the answer because I do not know it."

Professor Snape's breathing quickened as his face turned an unnatural shade of red. Finally straightening up from his looming stance over the girl, Snape turned to stalk back toward his desk.

"You are to stay after class today, Miss Granger," he spoke over his shoulder, "so we can make preparations for your week's worth of detention."

"Yes, sir," Hermione snapped.

"Open your books," Snape barked. "And begin the potion on page ninety-seven."

"She's bonkers." Hermione heard Ron mumble.

"Shut up, Ron," Harry whispered.

"Why do people keep telling me that?" he demanded a bit too loudly.

"Because your feeble mind lacks the necessary filters that would prevent you from spouting random nonsense," Snape snarled across the room, voice heavy with frustration. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Weasley! Now be quiet and complete your potion!"

Hermione raised the back of her palm to her mouth. A fit of giggles was threatening to consume her, but she knew this wasn't the time or the place.

At the end of the double class, as the students made their way to place their vials on Professor Snape's desk, Hermione ignored the many sympathetic glances that were sent her way.

Goodness, overreacting, aren't we? she thought.

Slowly filling her school bag, a slight nervousness wracked her body when she realized she was finally alone in the room with him. Her senses were acutely aware of his sitting there, glaring at her, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her nerves affect her.

Calmly walking to the front of the room, Hermione didn't attempt to make eye contact with her Professor until she placed her vial on his desk. Snape's hand immediately shot out, gripping her around the wrist.

"Enjoy the lesson today?" he sneered.

Hermione confidently met his eyes. "It was quite pleasurable, honestly."

"Is that your idea of keeping this--" raising his free arm, Snape pointed at her chest then his own, "--secret? A silent Hermione Granger is a far cry from typical."

Hermione yanked her arm away and narrowed her eyes.

"You didn't help matters much, either," she said tersely, flipping her long mane over her shoulder.

"What?" he asked slowly.

"If you want me to behave, Professor, then you need to know when it is and is not appropriate to a bait reaction out of me."

Leaning back in his seat, Snape trailed his lips with his fingers.

Hermione defiantly crossed her arms across her chest. "You're really not going to stick to the week's worth of detention you gave me last night, are you?"

"Yes, I am," Snape answered smugly.

"What... that's not fair." Hermione gasped in shock as she closed the few feet that separated them.

"Honestly," Snape continued, leaning further into his seat, "after last night I had forgotten about it. But I did just announce your punishment to a quarter of the seventh-years in this school. My sudden decision to relieve you of daily punishment would certainly spark the rumor mill, would it not?"

Hermione raised her hands to her face, sighing in defeat as she massaged her taut brow. She wanted to remain irritated with him, but she was finding it challenging when she remembered that they were finally alone.

"You're going to be late for dinner."

"I don't care," she answered through her fingers.

When the faintest pressure nudged against the side of her hip, Hermione finally lowered her hands away from her stress-worn face. She followed the urging of Severus' hand, walking sideways, until her back pressed again the edge of his desk. Sitting directly in front of her, Snape reached into his robe pocket and handed her a small glass vial.

Hermione thanked him with a relieved smile as she pulled out the cork. Tilting her head back to swallow its contents, Hermione did not remove her eyes from his emotionless expression.

"Do you always keep a Headache Potion handy?"

"Yes," he answered dismissively. Leaning back into his seat, the wooden chair creaked in protest as he attempted to rest his elbow on the arm to support his chin.

"Why?"

"So I can seduce young witches who try to stay after class."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Crossing her arms over her chest, she shot him a playful grin. "I do know the uses of Graphorn parts."

"Of course you do," he said irritably, closing his eyes.

Laughing under her breath, Hermione placed both hands on the edge of the desk behind her. Kicking herself off the floor, she lifted her weight to sit atop the surface. A violent flush spread up her neck when she tried not to notice Severus' eyebrow arch knowingly.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Hermione Granger wanting to ask a question... I'm giddy in anticipation."

"Why did Theodore, Blaise, and Goyle attempt to steal the pocket watch from Sirius?"

"They wanted to know the time."

"Severus!"

Snape's head snapped up in bewilderment, his body stiffening in agitation. Hermione knew that his instincts wanted to reprimand the student in her for using his first name so casually. But he had given her permission. Or maybe, he had never heard his name chided in such a scolding manner by a playful young witch, who was willingly sitting in his presence. Either way, Hermione found herself sliding off his desk, her body craving to get closer to him.

"Really," she asked softly, edging herself to stand between his knees. "What's going on in this castle?"

Severus glanced up toward her. The second he caught her eye, he quickly grasped her by the waist to pull her onto his lap. "It doesn't concern you."

This time, Hermione did not tense in alarm, but melted against him, her body flowing with the movement of his own. Placing his head back on the support of his perched palm, Snape closed his eyes, sitting coolly with his arm around her lower back.

"It concerns Sirius, obviously." Eyes expressionless, Snape edged his hand through the opening in her school robes at her waist. The heat from his hand seared through Hermione's thin blouse.

"I repeat," he sneered, "what does, or does not, concern Professor Black has nothing to do with you."

Hermione bit her top lip, tilting her head until her hair covered a portion of her face. "Are you absolutely positive of that?"

"Merlin save me from your never-ending barrage of questions." Snape sighed impatiently. He inclined his head from side to side, grunting faintly as his neck cracked. "Next, you'll be asking me for a detailed explanation for my joining the Death Eaters."

Hermione's body quickly straightened in curiosity, driving her tail bone into his thigh.

Snape tensed under her. "No, Hermione," he warned in low tones.

She nodded in understanding.

Resting her palm on his leg, she attempted to rise from his lap. At the feel of a unyielding grip around her wrist, Hermione turned back to eye Snape seconds before she was smoothly pulled closer to him. "I didn't ask you to leave," he whispered.

"You're going to be late for dinner, Professor," Hermione spoke softly as Snape's arm wound tighter around her waist, squeezing her against his chest.

"No matter... I don't have much of an appetite at the moment." Snape raised his other hand, lightly skimming her throat with the back of his fingers. Hermione closed her eyes, tilting her head back. He slid his hand behind her ear, through her soft hair at the back of her head.

She sighed contentedly, relaxing against him. Hermione followed the gentle nudge, her hair lightly pulled in his fingers, and straightened her neck to gaze hungrily at her Potions master.

She quickly became aware at his quickened breathing; his warm breath scorched her chilled skin. Opening her eyes, Hermione leaned even closer, extending a hesitant hand, wishing... wanting to touch him. Her eyes softened as she gently trailed the tip of her middle finger against the soft skin of his lips, circling them until his face relaxed.

How had it come to this, Hermione wondered? If someone had informed her a year ago that one day she would be nestled in the lap of her Potions master as he allowed her to delicately touch his face, she would have recommended said person to see a Muggle psychiatrist. But here she was, and here it is, and she could not imagine herself being anywhere else.

"Have you ever done this before...?" Hermione huskily whispered against his lips. "... With a... student, I mean?"

"No," Snape answered slowly. Even in his attempt to whisper his harsh tones vibrated against Hermione's small fingers.

She tilted her head to the side, regarding him intensely as she bit her lip. "Good." Slowly removing her hand, Hermione placed the softest kiss on his smooth lips. As she attempted to pull away, Snape's grip held firm to the riotous curls at the back of her head. He raised his other palm, grasping her by the chin so she wouldn't remove her lips from his own.

The consuming fire returned, scorching through her belly at the realization of his intense craving for her. Severus' warm tongue slowly traced under her top lip, then along the bottom, until she finally opened her mouth with a contented hum. When his tongue darted into her mouth to seize her own, Hermione finally escaped all control of her senses. She fell against him, his elegant hands driving her mad with his steady caress across her back and down her side. As Snape's exploration over the swells of her body increased, his commanding lips harshly pressed against hers, forcing whimpers in her throat as a bewildering craving consumed her mind--her body.

*** *** ***

Harry finally made up his mind and marched into the Great Hall. Spotting the various half-eaten bowls of dessert, he knew he had arrived at dinner moments before it was over. Pausing by the doors as he surveyed the Gryffindor table, he searched for that familiar head of unruly curls. Harry quickly walked up to Hermione.

Standing behind her, he leaned into one ear. "I need to speak to you."

She turned slightly in her seat. "Of course." She quickly sensed his anxiety. "What is it, Harry?"

Harry eyed the other students warily. "Not here." He reached down to Hermione's lap, firmly grasping her by the hand. "Come with me."

Hermione eyed her untouched plate forlornly, but quickly rose from her seat, allowing Harry to lead her out of the Great Hall by the hand.

"Hey, Harry!" Lavender squealed when he crossed her place at the table. She turned around, expecting him to wait by her side.

"Not now," he said irritably, not bothering to meet her adoring eyes.

Thinking this odd, Hermione wondered at the hurt expression on the blonde girl's face.

"Hermione: 2," Parvati giggled, "Lavender: 0." Laughter erupted among the cluster of girls.

Turning around one more time, Hermione's curious glance met Lavender's furious glare seconds before she was out in the hall.

Harry pulled her around the corner and into the darkness of another corridor. He leaned back, glancing down both ends to ensure sure they were definitely alone.

"Goodness, Harry, what is it?" Hermione questioned gravely.

Releasing her hand, Harry tentatively lowered both of his palms upon Hermione's shoulders. He needed to talk to someone... about something. He'd been pondering far too much on his own, and his mind was a muddled mess.

"Look, I need to talk about this, but I don't feel comfortable enough talking to Ron. I mean, she's his ex-girlfriend. I know he doesn't care but... "

Hermione rolled her eyes, leaning to one side as she placed her hand on her hip. "Oh, for heaven's sake, is this about that tart?"

Harry's eyes snapped up. The hurt expression Lavender had shot him as she fled from the lake breezed through his mind. "Don't call her that."

"Oh, my God." Hermione raised both hands to her mouth.

"What?"

"You care about her!" she accused with a smile.

"No, well, not exactly." Harry guiltily diverted his eyes.

"Oh, my God," Hermione gasped.

"What?!"

"You shagged her!"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but hesitated as he didn't know specifically how he should reply.

"Oh, my God!"

"Would you cut that out!" he snapped. "And no, I didn't shag her. But we did sort of... mess around."

Hermione tsked under her breath. "You can be almost as thick as Ron, you know that?" she said disappointedly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Huh?" Harry lowered his arms in confusion.

"She tried to speak to you in the Great Hall, but you ignored her... holding my hand and pulling me out into the hallway! Look, Harry, I was dragged into her relationship with Ron. Don't drag me into it with you."

"I don't have a relationship with her..."

"Regardless! I don't want her thinking I fancy you if she's trying to get into your knickers."

Eyes wide, Hermione's palm smacked across her mouth, shocked at the crude comment she had just made. Looking at her with surprised eyes as well, Harry snorted in amusement.

Feeling slightly flustered, Hermione grasped Harry by the forearm and attempted to speak seriously. "Look, Harry, just be honest with her. If you don't want a relationship but still want to... you know, let her know. Don't string her along simply because you're afraid of hurting her, otherwise, eventually you will. Don't be as thick as Ron!"

"What did happen between you and Ron last year?" he asked suddenly, moving to lean his back against the wall.

"Nothing."

"That's what I mean. It seems like, by now, at least something should have developed."

Hermione chewed her top lip in thought before she answered. "No, no. We're good friends and nothing more. Honestly, though, I thought about it. I admit I was somewhat jealous about his relationship with Lavender, but it was selfish jealousy. I wanted him to... want me, you know? When I thought about reciprocating the attraction, it just felt... weird. We've talked about this. He feels the same way."

"Makes sense, I suppose," Harry said quietly. He was lost in thought again, completely unaware of how intently Hermione was studying him through narrowed eyes.

"Look at me," she commanded.

Recognizing her typical bossy tone, his head snapped up instantly.

Hermione stepped closer, her small hands lightly closed around his face. Tilting her head to the side, Hermione thoroughly inspected the state of one of her beloved friends. Her heart lurched at the sight of his pinched eyebrows. He looked terrible. She trailed both thumbs along the dark circles under his eyes.

"You're doing it again," she said sorrowfully.

"What?" Harry whispered.

"Believing that you need to take on the world -- alone." Raising her thumb, Hermione attempted to smooth the creases between his brow. "After everything, Harry, I feel like I became your friend for a reason. Year after year, I knew a life connected with yours would not get easier as time went on, yet the thought of abandoning you never once crossed my mind. I'm supposed to be here for you. I won't badger you further, but please talk to me more... like you did right now." She attempted to smile softly.

Harry nodded silently. Reaching toward her, he hugged her, thanking her with his arms since words were just sometimes too hard. Feeling his weight, Hermione motioned for them to sit on the stone floor.

"Come here." Eyes lit with concern, Hermione turned toward him, motioning for him to rest his head on her shoulder.

"I miss her," Harry whispered.

Hermione shook her head. "Ginny walked away from you, without protest, at your request. Ginny only needs your word, Harry. She'll be back at your side in the blink of an eye."

"Exactly."

So he had let her go.

Hermione sharply inhaled at the feel of his shoulders shaking against hers.

"Oh, Harry... " Closing her eyes, Hermione continued to hold him, resting her chin atop his head.

*** *** ***

Later that evening, after dinner, Hermione silently treaded the corridors on the first floor as she waited for the clock to strike eight.

She couldn't believe that Severus was holding her to a week's worth of detention. But then again, this was Professor Snape. She closed her eyes, heart skipping, as she remembered his reason for punishing her.

"Honestly, Hermione... do you expect any less from me."

No, she couldn't say that she did.

But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that a week's worth of detention couldn't be all that bad. That would mean multiple hours, each evening, that she could spend with Severus alone -- without the need for telling lies and making excuses to her friends.

Something told her that Severus wasn't about to order her to spend the whole night scrubbing grubby cauldrons by hand.

Her breathing hitched, cheeks coloring, when she remembered their snog before dinner.

As Hermione was about to turn the corner towards the dungeon stairs, a melodic whistle echoed against the empty corridor. As the music intensified in clarity, so did the sound of steady footsteps clicking against the floor. Without a second's hesitation, Hermione pressed herself behind a stone pillar, wanting to see who was walking in her direction.

Sirius heedlessly rounded the corner, heading straight for the front doors.

He's leaving the castle!

Hermione's heartbeat at once sped up in dismay. What should she do? Run out in front of him and pull him back to his office? Petrify him? No, none of that was wise. But remembering Dumbledore's warning, Hermione knew she couldn't turn back now.

Severus is going to kill me.

She knew she should be heading down to the dungeons to serve her first night of detention, but instead, she was going to follow Sirius out of Hogwarts castle.

*** *** ***

The Three Broomsticks would have been a better choice, cleaner, but Remus needed to be cautious. Here he was: werewolf, member of The Order of Phoenix, engaging in a relationship with a Hogwarts' student and daughter of a prominent Death Eater.

All of this he could accept. But the one thing that haunted him was the knowledge that she belonged to another.

No, Pansy's not a possession. She doesn't belong to anybody.

Regardless, her family still expected her to marry another. And I'm considered the beast.

Shaking his head from side to side, Remus scoffed under his breath as he lowered himself into one of the frayed armchairs. He just didn't understand the culture of pureblood families. Since birth, the Malfoys and Parkinsons expected their children to marry and unite two of the most influential, power hungry families in the wizarding world. But the moment Draco was marked, they merely passed her off to the next in line.

It was madness.

Smiling sadly to himself, Remus remembered the night he accosted Pansy in the alley behind this very building. Could it have really been only five months ago?

When he had passed out, he vaguely remembered collapsing into her thin arms. How the little thing had managed to get him into an hotel room unnoticed, he couldn't understand. But she had. She had even nursed him, staying by his side, bringing him back to health.

When Remus had finally been conscious enough to grasp her by the hand, to thank her properly, her eyes had narrowed and a sharp insult had quickly spilt from of her mouth.

He laughed.

Poor girl. Poor Slytherin, constantly on her guard, always struggling to protect herself from getting too close, feeling too much by approaching everyone as if they possessed ulterior motives when they were nice to her.

Abandoning his reflections, Remus' head snapped up at the sound of faint tapping on the battered door. Rising from his seat, he quickly sped across the room to let Pansy in.

Pulling the door open, Remus did not immediately step aside, just as Pansy did not immediately attempt to enter. She stood out in the filthy hallway, chin raised, stony defiance in her eyes.

She always came to him, but she always expected the worst case scenario.

It hurt Remus to know that she still didn't fully trust his love for her, but he needed to be patient. Every time he opened the door, she expected it to be the last visit. She expected to be given a disgusted sneer as she was told that this relationship was over, seconds before the door was slammed in her face. So Remus stood there, heart beating in his throat, loving eyes gazing at her as he held the door wide open. How he wanted her.

He raised his right hand toward her.

Apprehension quickly masked her expression as she flinched away.

To fast. As strong as she was, she had been hurt, so he needed to be careful.

"I missed you," Remus breathed. Hand still in the air, he slowly attempted to grasp her small wrist.

"Please, Pansy, come inside."

Shaking slightly, as she did every time she was accepted, Pansy closed her eyes as she stepped into Remus' open arms.

*** *** ***

Three urgent knocks pounded against his polished office door.

Those three knocks changed everything the headmaster had believed for the last thirteen years. Once the door opened, a life littered with acknowledgements of past mistakes would haunt him for the next twenty years.

"Enter," Dumbledore called confidently.

The Head Boy assertively opened the door and immediately walked to stand in front of Dumbledore's desk. He moved with his shoulders back, head held high with the selfless awareness he'd acquired that year.

"Headmaster, I need to speak to you."

Dumbledore looked up at the young man, his tired eyes quickly brightening. "What is it, James?"

James swallowed. His eyes suddenly grew very serious. Dumbledore sensed his trepidation instantaneously.

Slightly turning to the side, James fisted his hands, grasping the last of his determination. "I'm worried about Sirius..."

"Go on," Dumbledore said with a nod of his head.

James closed his eyes slowly. "I feel terrible being here."

"Sirius is a dear friend of yours. I can safely presume that you wouldn't be here unless you are putting his interest before your own."

James exhaled, straightening his back once more. "It's... er... about Snape."

Dumbledore's eyes darkened instantly.

"What has that boy done now?"

"Um, that's just it, Professor. He hasn't really done anything."

Dumbledore sighed. He was sick of the squabbles between these boys. "You know how those two can get..."

James grunted in frustration. "That's just it, sir. Don't get me wrong, Snape can have quite a mouth on him... but this whole year... " Concentrating on the intricate threading of the elaborate rug under the headmaster's desk, James appeared loath to speak further. "I have to admit that he's been keeping to himself mostly or conversing with that crowd."

Dumbledore leaned forward in his seat. "I'm not so sure I follow? There have been so many fights this year between Sirius and Severus."

"That's why I'm here. I'm worried about Sirius..." James raised a strong arm to ruffle his hair uncomfortably. "He's been getting so out of control. I'm afraid... I'm afraid that I am partly responsible."

"How so?"

"Do you remember, in the beginning of my third year, the warning you gave me?"

Dumbledore's head snapped up in alarm.

"Asking me," James continued, "to constantly be on guard and to protect the other students."

"Yes. I also remember telling you that we wouldn't speak of it again."

James raised his chin defiantly. "I know, Professor, but I must. You see, I did as I was told. Even before you pointed out your worries, I too noticed the extreme amount of... power and ability Snape had in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Sirius and I both sensed something. I must admit that I was ecstatic when you asked me to keep a watch over Snape -- to keep an eye out for the other students."

James eyes narrowed at Dumbledore's soft smile.

"I knew I could trust you with that James... You've always been such a good student. A loyal Gryffindor. I must admit, I was not surprised when you were made Head Boy... "

"I told Sirius," James interrupted. His eyes closed in shame, bracing himself for the headmaster's reaction.

Silence.

"What?"

James slowly opened his eyes. They darted about the office before he could look the headmaster in the face. "I told Sirius... that you wanted me to keep a close eye on Snape. I told him that you had... doubts... about Snape."

Livid, Dumbledore lurched from his seat; his tall body leaned across the desk. "You promised me that this wouldn't leave my office!"

"I know! That's why I'm here now!" James pleaded. Finally sitting in the student's chair in front of Dumbledore, James let his tired face fall into his outstretched hands. "I feel horrible -- a constant gnawing and it won't go away."

"Explain," Dumbledore commanded.

"Please, Headmaster, I take full responsibility for my actions... but I was only thirteen and Sirius is my best friend. I trusted him, in everything. Honestly, after leaving your office that day I felt... justified in everything I ever said or did to Snape, before and long after. You never said the exact words, but I sensed your belief that Snape was... evil."

Dumbledore was still standing, frozen, with his hands stiffly upon the desk. His breaths were quickening, and James seemed very surprised at such an unfamiliar sight.

"What has he done?"

"I told you," James answered quietly, "Snape hasn't done... "

"No, no," Dumbledore interrupted. "What has... Sirius, done?"

Dumbledore could feel his stomach twisting and turning in fear. He had a ghastly feeling as to what James was going to confess, yet he prayed he was wrong.

"Do you remember... "

Please... be wrong.

"... back in my fifth year... "

Oh, sweet Merlin. No.

"... in the Shrieking Shack..."

"Yes, I remember it!" Dumbledore barked. James immediately darted his eyes away in disgrace. "How can I forget it! I nearly had Severus hauled off to Azkaban because of the testimony of you four boys! Yet, out of all of you, he was the one that needed to spend a week in the hospital wing!"

Dumbledore's breathing began to hitch, and he was getting dizzy. That was the night he had finally believed his suspicions. That was the night he had begun making preparations for the One that would take his own place. The idea that someone so young could be malevolent enough to attempt to kill one of their own classmates -- it reminded him so much of a young Tom Riddle. He remembered secretly wishing, that had all the Horcruxes been found by then, that Lupin had succeeded in killing Severus Snape.

"Headmaster," James breathed, "please, forgive me."

"So Sirius really did want Snape kil-- "

"Yes."

Dumbledore clumsily fell into his seat, shock and defeat coursing through him.

He had been so terribly wrong. What had he done?

The sound of erratic footsteps thundering up the spiral staircase caught Dumbledore's attention. His head snapped up toward his office door the second it was flung open.

"Headmaster!" Lily screamed. Her face was red and swollen, eyes lit with panic.

"What is it?" James asked anxiously, immediately rising to be at her side.

Hiccoughing on her tears, she fearfully looked at James before turning desperate eyes toward Dumbledore. "It's Severus!" she said hysterically. "I saw them fighting out by the lake...my gods, he wasn't moving!"

Not needing to hear anymore, Dumbledore lurched from his seat, down the spiral staircase and into a life that would be far different than the one he had lived the day before.

Dumbledore woke with a start, choking on his own saliva. Bracing his body weight on his functional arm, he leaned toward his end table, blindly reaching for his glass of water.

Feeling wetness upon his face, Dumbledore reached up and attempted to wipe a sweat drenched forehead. But it was dry. He had been crying in his sleep.

Severus... Cringing, the headmaster closed his eyes as the usual shameful guilt washed over him.

"Almost every night now," Godric said softly.

"What?" Dumbledore asked hoarsely.

"The sicker you get, the more dreams you will have."

"Yes," Dumbledore said sadly, "it will not be long now."

---

Author's Notes: Oh, I wonder what Hermione is going to find following Sirius? I wonder what Severus' reaction will be... when he finds her? These Dumbledore scenes closely tie in with Severus' Hogwarts memory back in Chapter Seven. Hope you liked it!

-My brilliant, PI accredited beta, melusin did a great job keeping my sentences in check. With poetry as my first love, I can get pretty carried away and not make any sense.

-Chapter title taken from John Milton's Paradise Lost, Book iv. Line 23.

-Sadly, exams are upon me at Uni. I have the next 10,000 words written, but it's all very choppy and only the first draft. Transitions are the devil, so the next update won't be for a couple of weeks. Thank you all for your reads and wonderful reviews!