Chapter Fifteen

Severus waited in silence. It was now July.... When had he last seen her? A month ago? Two? It felt like a lifetime since he'd held Hermione in his arms.

Maybe she wasn't coming? Maybe she hadn't received his owl? Maybe something had happened to her? Oh gods, maybe she was dead.

He'd tried to find her. He had attempted to find a contact address for her through the school files, but, when he arrived at her London home, her parents were gone and none of the neighbouring Muggles knew where they were. At one point he'd even contemplated asking Dumbledore's portrait for information on Hermione, but quickly dismissed the idea. The former Headmaster, though now only a moving image on his office wall, could certainly still cause trouble for him if he were to think Severus was still seeing Hermione. That had been the end of his options. No one else leaked him information anymore, they thought he truly was a Death Eater, that he'd been working against them for years. And who could blame them? He had, after all, killed Albus.

He was a murderer; murder being just another despicable act to add to his burgeoning repertoire of despicable acts. The Headmaster's death weighed him down, suffocated him, almost as much as Hermione's absence did.

Some word of Hermione... anything that gave him hope... would have been nice, it would have helped ease his burden, but there was nothing, not even a reply to the owl he'd sent her two days ago requesting her help. Her lack of response was to be expected; he knew that, flippant communication was a risk not worth taking, but the silence still left him empty.

When the door to the cave finally creaked open and Hermione stood before him, safe and well, Severus was overwhelmed with relief. Jumping to his feet, not caring as water splashed on the hem of his robes, he wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips gently to her forehead.

"I've missed you," he whispered, holding her tightly.

"I... I thought you were dead," she said against his chest, damp patches seeping through his shirt to his chest. She was crying.

He pulled back, brushing her cheeks with his hands, as if wiping away her tears would erase all the pain. If only fixing everything was that easy. "I couldn't contact you. I couldn't risk it." He held her tight again, letting her know he wished he had been able to tell her everything was fine. He wished he could now, but she would never hear those words. Nothing was fine.

"Why now, then? Why risk it now? What's wrong?" Hermione's voice wavered as she lifted her head from his chest to look up at him.

Severus took his time answering. He didn't want to put this on her, didn't want to place her in any further danger, but there was no choice, not if Dumbledore's portrait was to be believed. "The Dark Lord knows Potter is going to be moved. It has to happen before he turns eighteen. Before his aunt's protection wears out."

"And...?" Hermione's eyes searched his, as if trying to find the answer there.

"And the Dark Lord wants to know when." His words hung heavily in the damp air. He was asking so much of her, asking her to give up Potter's whereabouts to the Dark Lord, her friend she'd almost died trying to save on so many occasions.

Hermione looked up at him, eyes wide. "You're going to tell him?!"

Severus briefly closed his eyes. "I have no choice."

She jumped back from him, as if he'd burnt her, as if he were pure evil.

"Hermione, no! I won't let him harm Harry," he assured her, disconcerted by her reaction. He couldn't lose her now, not ever, but especially not when she was the only thing he had left. "But the Dark Lord must know when. If I don't tell him, he will know something is wrong. Dumbledore and I, we've come up with a plan."

Severus saw the hopeful expression on Hermione's face, and wondered at it for just a moment. "His portrait and I."

"Oh, his portrait. Of course." He saw her face fall and internally berated himself for giving her false hope. "What were you doing in the Headmaster's office?"

So she didn't know that the Dark Lord had taken control of Hogwarts. Severus swallowed the lump in his throat to tell her. "He has seen fit to appoint me to the position of new Headmaster."

"He?" Hermione squeaked.

"The Dark Lord."

The terror passed over Hermione's face for a moment. He could almost see her brain working, running through scenarios, figuring out the conclusions. Finally, she smiled. "Well, that's okay then. With you in charge, the school will be fine."

Though her trust in him was inspiring, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Don't be so certain. I'm not his only member of staff."

The concern furrowed her brow again. "You have to protect the students, you have to..."

"I have already promised Albus that I will do everything I can." Severus meant every word of it; he would do everything in his power to keep the student population safe from the Carrows and any other monsters the Dark Lord sent their way. He might not like the little brats very much, but he certainly did not want to see any of them dead. Well, not very many of them anyway.

Hermione sighed, then drew in a deep breath. "Saturday. That's when they'll be moving Harry."

Severus nodded in gratitude at her trust in him with such vital information. "I'm going to convince Mundungus that the Order needs to use decoys. Polyjuiced Potters. Mundungus is the only one I can risk Confunding. If that doesn't work–"

"I'll make sure they know," Hermione replied with a nod.

He stepped forward, holding her again. "I wish I could stay..."

"I know," Hermione replied, laying her head against his chest. "Please, Severus, be careful."

"Never mind me, you take care."

He kissed her once more, then walked heavy-heartedly out the room.

"Wait!"

He turned back at her call, hoping she'd come up with a solution, that she had an answer to make all this horror vanish.

"Take this," she said, pressing a coin into his palm.

He looked down at the Galleon, scrutinising both sides of it. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the coin. "What is it?"

"A Galleon," she said with a grin.

"Very funny." Though he replied drolly, her humour lessened the massive weight bearing down on him. It was all right to laugh, just a little.

"It has the Protean Charm placed on it," she said, sounding quite proud of herself. "We can communicate."

"Hermione, this is dangerous, if it were to fall in the wrong hands...." As much as he would love to hear from her, to know she was all right, the knowledge of her safety was not worth the risk of someone else locating her.

"They will see it as simply a Galleon."

He nodded. "Very well." He kissed her gently once more and headed off up the tunnel.

*****

Though Hermione did send the odd message to Severus via the Galleon, her words were never much. He knew the briefness was necessary, even with all her charms and protections on the coins, anything too detailed would be far too risky. No locations were ever given, no names, nothing that could implicate either of them.

It wasn't until the end of August that Severus met with her again. He was worried; no one had seen her. Neither her, or Potter, or Weasley had been sighted since they'd absconded from the Burrow. Her messages confirmed she was still alive, and according to her, 'fine', but that was all. Anything could have happened and here he was playing Headmaster. The thought clenched at his guts. But when he awoke one morning and found a date and time etched into the Galleon, he felt somewhat better.

"We have to get into the Ministry," she said urgently the moment she stepped into the cave.

"Hello to you too," he replied, raising an eyebrow. She was looking a little worse for wear, her hair was back to its bushy state from when she was a first year, and she looked thinner.

"Harry, Ron and I. We need to get into the Ministry."

"Why?"

"The Head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission possesses something we need."

Severus paused. He didn't want her going there, didn't want her putting herself in more danger. She was Muggle-born! If she were caught, they would snap her wand. No, they would do more than that; she would never go with them peacefully. The idea of Dementors surrounding his Hermione, taking her very soul... it didn't bear thinking about. Then again, he knew her. She would find a way in anyway, whether he helped her or not. Perhaps, with his help, she would have a better chance.

He pulled out quill and ink, taking the parchment she held rolled her hand, and drew her the best map of the Ministry that he could. He was no surveyor, but he thought the map was fairly thorough. He told her all the quirks of Ministry, the best time to get in, the best place. He wished he had more to give her, wished he had a foolproof plan for her, but he had told her all he knew.

"Thank you," she said, her eyes welling up as he rolled up the finished map and handed it to her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, brushing an errant tear from her cheek.

"Is this ever going to be over?" she asked, pleaded with him, as if it were in his power to end the war.

He sighed and held her close. "I hope so. I really hope so."

"They say you sliced of George's ear. They say you murdered Dumbledore. They all hate you."

Severus bristled. "It was an accident. I was trying to get Mulciber. He was going to kill Lupin."

"I will clear your name, Severus. As soon as this war is over, everyone will know what a hero you are."

She thought so highly of him, held him in such great regard. He didn't deserve such respect. "I'm no hero, Hermione. I'm just a fool."

She stepped closer to him, pressing her lips to his. "I don't fall in love with fools, Severus."

"How long do you have before you have to get back?" Severus asked tentatively as he held her in his arms once more.

"I've got a few hours," she whispered. "Harry and Ron think I'm spying outside the Ministry."

Her words were all he needed to hear.

He caught her up in his arms, transforming the pumpkin fizz boxes into a bed. Carefully he lifted her from her feet, and placed her on the mattress. Her hands teased his body, drifting over his skin, slowly undressing him. And he did the same to her, soaking up every inch of her, memorising her body, loving every part of her, just...just in case. He didn't allow himself to dwell on why, he didn't want to.

He made love to her slowly, taking his time, allowing her to enjoy every moment, bringing her to orgasm and joining her, her tears splashing against his face. A feeling of bitter sweetness filled him, and he wasn't sure if it was the memory that the last time he'd been this intimate with her had been just after ... after Dumbledore had passed, or if it were the thought of things to come, that this could be the last time.... No, he wouldn't think like that, wouldn't allow it.

But as he lay with her in his arms afterwards, holding her tightly – as if there would be no tomorrow – he couldn't help but to hope the dawn would never come.

*****

More time passed, the days running into each other, his time spent making one attempt to protect the students after another, all the while feeling half-empty without Hermione.

Dumbledore had been trying for weeks to locate Hermione. Well, to locate Potter, but Severus assumed Hermione was alongside him and she was what mattered to him. He'd thought about using the Galleon, about asking her where they were, but the risk outweighed the rewards, and Dumbledore would want to know where he had received his information.

Finally, Phineas Nigellus found them, bigoted old crackpot that he was, and more importantly, he had heard Hermione's voice. Oh, her voice, what he wouldn't have given to hear one of her verbatim speeches taken straight from one of her precious textbooks right then.

As he grasped Gryffindor's Sword, making his way out of the grounds of the castle to Disapparate, the knowledge that he would be so close to her ate away at him, until, as he Apparated into the Forest of Dean, he knew he had no choice but to go to her.

The risks were there, but with Potter off chasing his Patronus, he couldn't stop himself. Somehow the knowledge that his Patronus was still a doe, still Lily's, made him all the more determined to see Hermione. He worried that he was forgetting her, that she was slipping through his fingers. She had been out here for who knew how long with Potter and Weasley, alone with Potter and Weasley.

A horrible sense of history repeating itself settled in his chest. His love and Potter together.

"Severus?"

It was a whisper caught on the breeze, but he turned his head and saw the vague ruffle of air, then a delicate disembodied hand waving on its own. He hurried over.

"Quick," she insisted. "Inside."

Before his eyes a tent appeared. Hermione's stood there, holding the door flap open for him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Severus demanded. "Where are your wards? Where is your wand? Anybody could wander in here! Anyone!"

"No, only Harry, Ron, you and me. Where's Harry?"

He ignored her. "Are you all right? Where's Weasley?"

"Ronald has seen fit to desert us," she replied bitterly. "Apparently saving the wizarding world is too much like hard work for him."

"Where is your wand?" he demanded, slightly relieved to hear that Weasley had left. The more distance between his Hermione and that Weasley boy, the better.

"Harry has it."

"Why the hell does Potter have it? You mean you're here alone, unarmed? Are you mad?!"

"I think this war has made everyone just a little mad, Severus," she said with a hint of a smile. "And Harry has it because he was standing guard and I was sleeping."

"And he's run off and left you here with no wand? I swear..."

Hermione gave him a strange look. "Where is Harry, Severus?"

Severus shook his head. "He will be back soon."

"Where is he?" she asked again, more urgently.

"Gaining the help of the great Godric Gryffindor. He will be fine," Severus told her dismissively. He wouldn't tell her Potter was off chasing his Patronus, his Lily's Patronus. "What I need to know is how you are. You're not hurt?"

She turned away from him, straightening out the blanket on one of the bunks. "I'm fine." Something in her voice betrayed her though, just the slightest of wavers that hitched her tone.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Nothing, I'm fine."

"Hermione," he said harshly, turning her around to look at him. Something was wrong, something was dreadfully wrong. "Tell me."

"There's nothing to tell!" she insisted, trying to move past him.

He had to know she was okay, nothing else mattered. "Don't make me use it! Don't make me!" he yelled, and his mind started prickling at hers, delving into her thoughts of its own accord.

"Stop!" she yelped like he was hurting her, backing away from him. "Stop! All right, I'll tell you!"

Severus pulled himself back, just as a flicker of a memory lingered in his mind. Her, Harry and Ron, back when she was a lot smaller, probably their first year, looking guiltily up at his glowering form in one of the courtyards of the castle. They had all shuffled closer together, hiding something behind their backs.

He looked at her, waiting.

"I'm pregnant."

He blinked. "What?"

"I'm pregnant." She slumped down on the cot in defeat.

To say that hadn't been what he'd expected would have been the understatement of the century. "With my..."

"Yes with yours," she bit back angrily. "What do you think I am?"

That last time, it must have been then. That would make her five months pregnant. Gods, she'd been running around out here with Potter and Weasley, five months pregnant with his child. What sort of a man was he? She should have been taking it easy, she should have been tucked up in a nice house somewhere knitting baby clothes. He was pathetic. Worse than pathetic. Five months pregnant... he had to admit, her Concealment Charm was working well.

"This has to be a joke!"

"Do you see me laughing?" she said bitterly.

His eyes wandered the tent, looking everywhere but at her. He tried to get his mind to think, tried to process what she was telling him, but he couldn't focus.

The blue flame in the jar in the corner caught his eye, and a vague memory from years ago came to him. It was the same one he'd seen just now as he'd dove into her thoughts. First year Hermione, Harry and Ron huddled over a similar jar in the courtyard. It hadn't been Lily's flame that inspired her to make the bluebell flame. She'd lied to him.

"I don't believe you."

"Why not?" She looked up at him like a first year at sorting.

An uneasy feeling crept through him.

"Why don't you want me in your thoughts, Hermione?" Though inside he was filled with rage, his voice came out calmly, too calmly.

"Wh...what?" she stammered.

"You don't want me in your mind. What are you hiding?" A terrible, horrible thought came to him even as the words left his mouth. A thought he didn't want to believe but nagged at him as if it were the truth. It was happening all over again. "It's you and Potter, isn't it? You've been seeing Potter! It's Potter's baby!"

"No!" But she protested too quickly for his liking.

"You lied to me about the flame, Hermione. You've been making them since your first year!"

Her eyes widened in fright. "No..."

"Don't lie to me again!" he bellowed, grasping her shoulders. "Don't you dare!"

She hung her head. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," he said, and he meant it. But he had no choice. Hermione's cry met his ears as he forced his way into her memories...

________________________________

AN: Hugs and full-fat lattes with choc sprinkles to my wonderful beta, thanks hun!