The Best of Intentions

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Edited by thyme_is_a_cat

A/N: Heed the chapter warning – violence and gore in this chapter, plus a bit of horror.

Chapter 17 – The Best of Intentions

Immediately upon materializing at the bottom of Severus' well, Hermione Apparated to the phone box on Spinner's End, which had come to be her Apparition point. Thanks to Harry's impromptu visit, she had a scant ten minutes to deliver the Starglass.

Conjuring a Muggle hand mirror, she gave her hair a careful inspection. She had pulled it off her face with two combs, the most she could do without a second pair of hands that actually knew what they were doing. The robes she had chosen carefully: a deep plum that Luna swore complimented her eyes (but this was coming from a woman who had worn radish earrings for years, so who knew) and was cut in a pseudo-traditional fashion that clung very untraditionally. Stuffed down her bodice was a note that had taken almost two hours to pen. She hoped that it would do. She almost hoped that she wouldn't need it, but refused to think about that right now.

First, she had to feel up Severus... feel out Severus. Had he gotten over his sulk? Would he mind her company or simply take the Starglass and toss her out? Would he object too much if she were to kiss him? She couldn't quite recall the last time she had wanted so desperately for the touch of another human being. With Ron, it had been expected and welcome, but in all honesty, towards the end, she could have taken or left it. She was surprised that she had not noticed it before. Not that there had been a she-and-Ron now...

She pushed that thought aside, too. The grief over her lost relationship, which she had expected to overwhelm her at some point, had failed to make an appearance, and that spoke volumes to her. That phase of her life was over, never to be reclaimed. The change in her relationship with Harry was much more difficult to bear, and she feared for the other relationships with friends and family on which she had relied for comfort and support, Ron's included. However, she had not done much investigating during her short stay: her final trip to the past might change yet more events, and if she happened to stay, then it really would be a moot issue. Now, she had to focus on moving forward with her life and determine whether the man inside the grotty little house down the street, in all likelihood still sulking, would be a part of it.

Banishing the mirror and slipping her wand into her sleeve, she gave the street a quick glance and then stepped out of the phone booth. With an even gait, she strolled toward the house, trying to appear nonchalant while a whole host of butterflies beat themselves against the lining of her stomach. Finally, she clasped her hands behind her back, the Starglass held firmly in one clammy palm in order to resist the temptation to wipe them both down her dress. She should not be this nervous. If nothing else, Severus was her friend.

The steps up to his door seemed insurmountable as she stood at the bottom, though in truth, there were only five. Basking at the top in a puddle of warm, morning sunlight lay Mewlip, his paws stretched over his head as if to expose every possible inch of stomach that he could. Hermione envied him for a long moment: blissfully uncaring of human drama, his daily agenda consisted of a nap in the sun, a bite of kibble, perhaps a go at the mice nesting under the porch, then another nap in Severus' lap as he read. Would she be a part of that cozy scene?

'Oh, damn, I forgot about Crookshanks,' Hermione groused silently and sighed. She would deal with that one when she got to it. She was doing that a lot, lately – delaying unpleasantness for later. In the meantime, there were stairs to climb.

The stairs passed more quickly than she had anticipated, and before she knew it, her hand was raised to knock on the door. She paused just before her knuckles hit wood, listening for any sign of life within the house. It was silent, hushed even, as if waiting for something. Though perhaps that was her imagination, and she was projecting her own nervous restlessness upon her environment. Mewlip didn't seem disturbed. Feeling silly, she chided herself for acting like a twit with a crush and knocked firmly. Composing her features into a confident smile, she hoped that he wouldn't be able to see her heart pounding its way through her bodice.

Sharp rapping sounded on the front door, loud even in his basement laboratory, and Severus' hand jerked, almost spilling the beaker of fluid that he was carrying. He had been expecting her at this time, had been watching the minutes tick slowly by on the clock mounted on the wall, in turns dreading and anticipating her arrival. And yet, he was startled by her knock.

Walking briskly to a complicated setup of many flexible tubes, all connected to a central chamber that held a translucent, brown-green liquid, he consulted the book propped open to "La Mort Fraiche." It was a relatively simple potion that he had stumbled across while flipping through one of Grandfather Pericles' many strange books. Few wizards were familiar with the discipline of Thaumaturgy, and those that were considered it a charlatan's pursuit at best and Blood Magic at worst. Most wizards, even Dark Wizards, generally steered clear of the art. It was unsavory, usually dealing with dead or decaying things as subjects or requiring a blood sacrifice of some kind, and as far as Severus could tell, it was not very practical, for all that the book was titled Practical Applications of Thaumaturgy. Most of the rituals and potions listed in the book were long, drawn-out, tiresome things and could be accomplished with other spells or potions and much less hassle. Others required the application of some sort of catalyst to actually achieve anything.

'It is plain why this discipline is ignored,' he had scoffed to himself those four years ago as he had pushed the book back into its place on the shelves. The catalyst required would have been well nigh impossible to find. This potion in particular had popped into his mind several months ago as he was giving his books a much-needed dusting. He had even taken the book down to give the potion a quick perusal, the tiny ember of hope that had flared feebly being unceremoniously smothered by the need of a catalyst that would implement the intent of its bearer. A catalyst that had been roughly doodled into the margin of the book as a small phial filled with an unnamed substance. A catalyst that been noted as "disappeared" in a scrawling, spidery hand next to the scribble. A catalyst that he now knew was called the Starglass.

The Plan had rattled around in his brain since that day, refusing to lie at peace with its intended subject. It was the one thing he could do to set things right, to find happiness. She would understand, wouldn't she? That he had tried to save her, that it was Dumbledore and her own friends who had failed her. They could start fresh – build a new life together. It was a perfect Plan, except for the fact that the catalyst in question had been lost... until a pretty woman delivered it into his hands one late summer afternoon.

He had had to research it, of course. There had been no telling what Heidi's little bottle could have actually been; even she had not known. And somehow, amidst the reading and running around, he had lost sight of his Plan. He had begun to wonder if this path was truly the way to happiness or if he might want to reconsider it. Perhaps he should let things stand as they were?

Another knock, as insistent and bossy as the woman behind it, broke through his thoughts and brought him back to the matter at hand. The central chamber of the apparatus was almost empty; it was time to add the next potion. Carefully, he raised the beaker in his hand, tilting it slowly so that the liquid poured sedately through the funnel that he had placed on the narrow mouth of the chamber. This potion was a deep burgundy and slightly thick, chasing the first potion through the meters of tubing in a macabre race. Severus let his eyes trail one of the long, winding tubes, following the seam between the brown-green Refreshener and the claret Replenisher until they disappeared into a hollow needle wedged into the main artery in Lily's throat.

He had tried not to look too closely at her for the two days she had been here, had pretended that her limp, dead weight was nothing more than a sack of earth as he Disapparated her from her grave in Godric's Hollow. Even as he had laid her on the workbench and placed the needles, one at her throat, one in each arm and one in each artery at the junction of thighs and torso, he had distanced himself from the reality of what he was doing. It was a subject, nothing more. With... it... swaddled in a funerary shroud, dark with decay, and the visible flesh black and spongy, he had partially succeeded.

That first night, he had retched until he thought his stomach would turn inside out.

Now, she was Lily. Locks of hair trailed out of the shroud in silken, auburn waves and draped over the edge of the workbench. The peaks and valleys of a woman's body now pushed against the fabric, though still much too thin. Surrounding the needles, her creamy skin had already obtaining a warm, living glow. He wanted to pull the horrible shroud away from her, but was hesitant to invade her privacy. He was even more hesitant to look upon her face – so seemingly alive, but yet still dead. He left her covered.

This was what he wanted, wasn't it? He couldn't have Heidi, but he could have Lily. But suppose Lily didn't want him? She hadn't in the first place. Should he do as Lucius said and convince Heidi to stay with him?

This time, the front door rattled on its hinges under a furious pounding. Severus shook his head and climbed the basement steps, shutting the door tightly behind him. No, Heidi had made her intentions clear and was now waiting for him, Starglass in hand. There was no going back. He owed it to Lily to try.

The front door swung open just as Hermione was about to flounce back down the front steps. Her initial nervousness had dissolved into a caustic annoyance that he would demand her presence and then leave her waiting on the stoop. Arsehole.

"Did you bring it?" he asked abruptly by way of greeting. His hair was greasier and more unkempt than normal, and he was in dire need of a shave. Eyes like two empty pits stared out at her, hollow and bruised with lack of sleep. His white lab coat was smudged and splattered with what looked like blood and bile, and he smelled as if he had just had a roll in a charnel house.

"Gods, Severus, you smell awful!" she said, reflexively covering her nose with her sleeve and taking a step back. No wonder Mewlip had chosen to nap outside.

"Then you won't mind if I don't ask you in." He extended his hand palm up and eyed her expectantly.

She wanted to slap him. "I do mind you behaving like a beastly pig!" This was not how she had imagined this conversation proceeding. She had to get a hold of herself and be the more mature person; it wouldn't be that hard considering the competition. "May I please come in?"

He scowled and stepped back, leaving just enough room for her to squeeze by. "Severus, I need to talk to you. I've been doing some thinking and left certain things unsaid..."

"You surely don't believe that I care one way or the other," he sneered down at her. "I am busy. Hand it over."

A seed of doubt sprouted and began to push through the soil of her heart. Maybe the Starglass was all he had really wanted in the first place. Was his camaraderie all an act for this final goal? She didn't want to believe that. This had to be his deep-rooted defense mechanisms trying to push away anyone that had hurt him. Nevertheless, the vine was winding its way around her chest, constricting it as his eyes regarded her coldly. She had expected some residual anger, but this... "I will if you promise to talk to me after you have finished."

"If? IF? It was you who pledged your help to me. And now, when it is finally requested, you seek to place conditions on it?" His eyes had gone wide and crazed, and flecks of spittle were collecting on his lips. "I owe you nothing! Now give me the Starglass and GET OUT!"

Hermione flinched, raising her hands protectively to her chest. Well, she had her answer, didn't she? What had she been thinking, anyway, to run off and follow some guy like a lovesick little girl? She would have had to leave her parents, her friends, and her job... could they have forgiven her for disappearing? She had gotten swept up in a romance before it had even bloomed, and the drastic changes in her life had confused and frightened her. It was insanity and not at all like the practical woman she strove to be.

Despite her resolve, tears began to well in her eyes, and she bent her head, wishing that her hair could hide her face.

"Fine," she said to the floor, blinking rapidly and biting the inside of her cheek. When she raised her face again, she had mastered herself and knew that though her eyes might be red-rimmed, she was not going to cry. "If that is how you want it. Give it back when you are done."

She held out her hand and uncurled her fingers, displaying the Starglass. It was dull and unspectacular in the dim entryway light, the dust inside now coarse and dark, the grains melding slowly to form tiny black shards. Neither noticed, for their eyes were locked together.

Severus wanted to know what she meant. Something weighty and final in the tone of her voice had pushed through the fog of his anger, and he could now see the sad resignation in her eyes. He wasn't even sure how he had become so furious in the first place. She had just been standing there, lovely in her temper and resembling everything that he couldn't have. All at once, his frustration had exploded, and his only conscious thought was that if he couldn't have her, then he wanted her gone, as if she were a bandage that he could remove with one excruciating rip. He stared hard into her warm, brown eyes, suspiciously bright even in his gloomy house.

Was she asking him what he wanted? He couldn't tell, and he was sorely tempted to slip quietly into her mind and pilfer through her thoughts until he found her true intentions. It wouldn't matter if he did, at this point. She was leaving, regardless. Even as the incantation began to form in his mind, he broke eye contact to stare blankly at the bottle in her hand.

"It makes little difference what I want," he said bitterly, scooping the Starglass out of her hand. If the contents seemed darker or the object heavier than the last time he had held it, he ignored it. He had his catalyst, and it was time to apply it.

Just before he closed the basement door, he heard Heidi's voice quaver the tiniest bit as she called to him from the entry. "Remember, Severus, you have to mean it."

Hermione loitered in his entryway for several minutes after she heard the basement door close. Twice, she had considered moving to the parlor to wait; at least there would be a place for her to sit. She didn't feel welcome, however, and the idea of wandering through his house after he had unequivocally told her to "get out" made her distinctly uncomfortable. She toyed with the idea of sitting on the front steps and moping (she wasn't too proud to admit it, unlike some wizards she could mention) with Mewlip, but something held her back: an uneasy, foreboding restlessness that refused to let her walk out of earshot of the basement laboratory. She wished she had simply followed him to see what had had him preoccupied for the last couple of weeks. She trusted him, true, but that included trusting his propensity for making poor judgment calls.

She had to wonder if it was that same proclivity that had prompted his parting statement. It was almost as if he felt obliged to something, but since he had never even hinted at the nature of his project, she had no idea what it could be. As she paced the small entry, shooting nervous glances through the doorway to the basement, she had the nagging feeling that she should have applied herself to discovering his secret. Just the same, her heart ached with disappointment that he would carry a grudge against her without letting her explain that perhaps there would be no need for it. He had shot her down, used her, and then discarded her, all without any sign of regret. Perhaps... perhaps there was someone else. She couldn't imagine whom; he had given no indication that he was seeing anyone. Even Malfoy had assumed that they were together. However, he had kept the secret of his plan close to his chest; there was no reason that he couldn't be hiding his beloved.

Sniffling, she dabbed at her eyes with the corner of one cuff. 'Get a hold of yourself,' she scolded herself silently, frowning at the dark smudge of mascara on her sleeve. She was the very picture of pathetic, crying in the entryway of a man who had made it plain that he wanted nothing else to do with her over a romance that had never been confirmed. A half-hearted, mocking laugh choked into a sob as she leaned against the door and tried to save what little makeup she could.

She had finally decided to go to Madam Beetlebump's to mope to a sympathetic ear when a loud crash sounded beneath her feet. Terrified shouting and the sound of breaking glass were followed by a heavy tread pounding up the basement steps. Forgetting her misery for the moment, she ran from the entry through the narrow hall and into the kitchen just as the basement door was flung open. Pale and haunted with a splattering of what appeared to be blood across his face, Severus staggered through the door and slammed it behind him, sagging against it with a shudder.

"Severus! Alright?" she cried as she wiped at the largest splotch of blood on his forehead to ascertain whether or not he was injured. He simply shook his head, mutely allowing her ministrations with blank eyes and an oddly slack posture. Finding no obvious wounds, she pursed her lips and tried to catch his eye. He remained seemingly unaware of her until she cupped his face in her hands and leaned forward until they were nose to nose. Whispering quietly, she asked, "What have you done?"

Blinking several times, he finally met her gaze squarely. Abruptly, she fell headlong into those black pools, losing herself in their depths as flashes of the last couple of days played through her memory: Harry glaring at the hyacinths on her coffee table as she, clad only in an old bathrobe, glared at him in turn; dinner at the restaurant in London with Draco holding her hand and smiling at her as she wished he were Severus; Luna teasing her about winning an Order of Merlin while showing her the yellowing photograph of them ambling through Diagon Alley. Burning through the memories was her love for him, shapeless, but fiercely red with passion, and it consumed them both.

And then, the connection was broken, and he was wrapped in her arms, still shuddering as his hands grasped at the back of her dress. A sharp sting where his fingers dug into her skin signified that one of her wounds had probably reopened, but she couldn't have cared less at the moment. He was gasping on her shoulder, and his forehead was clammy against her cheek. It was a long moment before she could discern words.

"I didn't know... didn't mean... she was gone, but I thought I could..."

Another crash of breaking glass erupted from the basement, and he startled, pulling her against him so tightly that she struggled to breathe.

"What did you do, Severus?" she said harshly against his hair, guiding them away from the door and the ominous thumps that were getting steadily closer. He was wrapped around her like a constrictor, leaning on her now that he no longer had the support of the door, and she was shaking with dread. What could possibly have scared Severus, a man who had faced down werewolves, Death Eaters and lied to a Dark Lord, to the point of gibbering panic? Drawing her wand, her eyes wide and fixed on the door that was now rattling on its hinges, she backed slowly through the kitchen. Something heavy and solid hit the door, and it strained in its frame.

Snapping out of his terror, Severus spun them around, putting her back to whatever was trying to force its way out of the basement. He knew what was down there and didn't want Heidi to see her, see his failure and betrayal. But that thing wasn't her. He had fouled up somehow.

"Remember, Severus, you have to mean it."

Severus slammed the door behind him and stomped down into the basement, resenting the phial clutched in his hand. His mother would have told him that he had brewed his potion, so now he had to drink it, and he had every intention of following this through to the end, despite his knotted, tumultuous desires. He wanted to set things right with Lily, but he didn't want Heidi to leave. Heidi would probably leave anyway, and there would be no hope of "stealing her away", as Lucius had put it, when Lily came back. Besides, he loved Lily. And Heidi?

Severus cursed and sat on the step halfway down the flight, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes. What possible magic had that woman worked on him to draw his affections from one deserving to one disguised? He didn't even know Heidi's true name, but he had managed to fall in love with her as surely as he had fallen for Lily all those years ago. It seemed that he was doomed to love women who would then up and leave him.

Pushing off the stairs with a sneer at his own maudlin sentimentalism, he stalked down the final few stairs to his workbench. The chamber of Replenisher was almost empty, and the subject had filled out under the shroud, finally resembling a healthy female. He knew that he should have felt joy, but instead, a cold, hard lump settled in the pit of his stomach, and a heavy, tingly sensation was spreading through his chest. He stood at the table, willing his feet to stay where they were, even though his body leaned toward the stairs. His arms were wooden as he raised the hand holding the Starglass above her chest. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on calling her soul back to this plane, ignoring the wailing of his own heart.

'Bring her back,' he whispered in his mind, a mantra to focus his intent. 'Lily, come back.' Unbidden, a memory of her body as he had pulled it out of the ground rose in his mind, accompanied by an earnest, 'You shouldn't be doing this!' but he thrust it away.

Concentrate.

'Come back, Lily.' He forced an image of her face as a teenager, laughing and happy, to the forefront, only to have her eyes widen in fear under a bolt of green light. 'No, bring her back as she was.' Again, her shrouded body, ripe with decay, forced all other memories aside, and before he could refocus his intent, his vision was lit with a brilliant light filtered red through the thin flesh that protected his eyes. He cracked one eye open and was almost blinded by the white light that shone through his fingers for a long moment and then extinguished, leaving him blinking dumbfoundedly in a false darkness.

Once his vision had adjusted to the comparatively dim lighting, he gazed down at Lily, still immobile and covered with the shroud. The flush of life that he had coaxed into her flesh was fading, leaving graying tissue where the fabric had been pulled away. Long strands of auburn hair lost their sheen and drifted, limp and brittle, to the floor. Conflicted, he staggered backward, tottering on weak knees. He had failed, and the disappointment was bitter on his tongue, but he wanted to sigh with relief that he could put this all behind him. No one would have to know. He could tell Heidi that he had changed his mind about his project, and maybe she would...

The shroud shifted over a jerky movement on the workbench, and then, with a squelching series of pops, the body sat up.

"Lily?" he asked hesitantly, his heart suddenly pounding in his throat. He had taken two steps backward without realizing it. The thing on the workbench turned toward his voice, and great chunks of dry hair slithered to the floor. Slowly, it dragged its swaddled legs over the surface of the workbench, leaving a dark smudge across the wood. The apparatus containing the now empty chamber and tangle of tubing swayed as the tubes were tugged taut. One shrouded hand rose to its face, still hidden behind the moldering fabric. Clumsy fingers prodded at the material, but only managed to shift the shroud slightly and free the needles that had been inserted into its arm and neck.

Severus felt the bottom stair press against his calves, and the mind-numbing horror that had gripped him lifted long enough for him to grope for his wand. Fumbling at his sleeve, he finally spotted it laying on the counter behind the workbench... behind her.

The creature slid off the workbench, pulling the apparatus off balance until it landed on the floor with a deafening crash. A stray snake of tubing whipped through the air, spraying him with Replenisher and catching his wand in a glancing blow, sending it skittering off the counter and onto the floor. The sharp snap of the length of ebony as the creature unsteadily trod on it was almost lost amidst the shattering of glass and hoarse, panicked shouting.

Severus wasn't aware of the sounds issuing from his mouth, nor was he aware of stumbling up the stairs in a frantic retreat from her. Nothing pierced the fog of his terror until two brown eyes captured him, drawing him into a place that felt like home.

With a splintering crack, the door broke free of its lock to swing wide and bang against the kitchen wall. Hermione jumped, shrieking shrilly as Severus dragged her into the short hallway. Panting hard, his body tense and quivering against her, Severus pulled her wand from her sleeve and pointed it through the kitchen door. She only had a moment to wonder where his wand was before the sound of wood clattering against tile focused her thoughts back onto whatever was making its way out of the basement.

Oh, Merlin, what had he done?

Hearing it was far worse than seeing it, she decided as she twisted in his arms. He protested, clamping down on her back, but she insisted, wincing as her wounds bunched and pulled in their struggle. She would have to go back to the Healer after this, she was certain.

Catching her first glimpse of their pursuer, she wondered if perhaps she had been better off just hearing it.

Human-shaped, it walked toward them with a lurching, drunken sway, bumping against the doorway without bothering to protect itself with its hands. Sticky, black footprints trailed in its wake, smudged and uneven on the tile floor. Finely woven cloth swaddled it loosely and sagged where the creature's legs had stretched it, but it was a splotchy, dark gray and had several large, frayed holes that revealed doughy, gray matter underneath. Hermione swallowed thickly against the bile that crept up her throat, flinching against the man behind her when it raised one arm beseechingly, the wrappings falling away. Shriveled and gnarled, the blackening, mottled hand stretched its fingers toward them as if pleading for assistance.

Fighting against the urge to retch, Hermione choked out, "Who..."

"Lily," Severus whispered against her hair.

The blood drained from her head, leaving her faint and disoriented as several bits of information clicked into place.

"Voldemort killed the woman he loved, Hermione."

"Did Snape just compliment a Potter?"

"Oh," she breathed, sagging against him as his arm tightened under her breasts. So it was Lily who had held Severus' affections... and still did, if he was trying to raise her from the dead. She could feel her heart breaking, almost hear the fleshy rending as the muscle tore itself apart. "I see," she rasped around the lump in her throat.

"No, you don't," he hissed at her, somehow managing to strengthen his grip. It infuriated her suddenly, that he would hold her like this while loving another woman, and the anger cleared her mind and leant power to the fingers that she used to pry his arm free. He fought her, his arm crushing the air out of her lungs as he refused to release her even when she stomped hard on his booted foot. "Heidi, stop!"

"Give me back my wand, Severus!" she wheezed furiously, unsure at the moment who, exactly, would end up on the receiving end first.

"I have to fix this," he said lowly, but the tip of her wand was shaking, and he was still retreating under the Lily-thing's advance.

"Fix this? I think you've done enough already!" Bending her elbow, she aimed it into his gut and struck hard. His arm loosened long enough for her to wrench free, then he grabbed the back of her dress and yanked her backward and behind him.

Hermione had seen many zombie movies. It had been a tradition between her and her father on Friday nights during the summer to rent science fiction, fantasy and horror movies, crunch on vegetables, and poke holes in the ridiculous, contrived, and illogical plots until the very small hours of the morning. Just this summer, they had had a zombie movie mini-marathon (brought on by a thoroughly insensitive comment of Ron's, prompting Hermione to wonder if he'd lost his brain somewhere and her father to suggest that perhaps it had been eaten). Whether they were shambling, moaning corpses or sprinting, howling rage monsters, almost all zombies had the common goal of feasting on living flesh. Even the all-too-real Inferi would attack a human if ordered to do so. This creature, however, did not seem intent on eating their brains. She more resembled a supplicant (albeit with structural integrity issues) than a dark creature with an appetite for flesh.

This line of thought did not lessen her unadulterated horror for the thing approaching them; it simply allowed her to stay behind Severus with a clear conscience, since it didn't appear eager to hurt them. She was of half a mind to go home and let the bastard deal with his creation by himself, for the thought that Severus preferred a dead woman to her, to the point that he would reanimate her, was a piercing blow to her ego. The other half of her was inclined to knock the infuriating man on his arse, take back her wand and deal with the creature herself.

She did neither, choosing instead to sock him in the shoulder and hiss furiously, "She's suffering! Do something!"

Severus shook his head, slowly backing into her and forcing her to step back with him. "I never meant for this to happen. I've failed her again..."

"Then give me my wand..."

"No. Petrificus Totalus!" He flicked her wand, but the resultant spell seemed to dissolve on contact with the creature's body. She simply took another lurching step forward, her hand still raised in entreaty. Severus cast several more bindings spells, only to have magical ropes fall limply at her feet or for the magic to bead and cascade like water off her shroud. Standing behind him, now clutching at the back of his lab coat, Hermione whispered progressively frantic suggestions into his ear while wondering how many steps it would take for the creature to drive them into the front door.

Hermione didn't have long to wonder, for all too quickly, her tailbone bumped against the rounded knob on the front door. Shrieking in frightened surprise, she staggered against Severus, who yelped in turn and completely missed with his next spell. It struck a black, woolen cloak that promptly tied itself into a granny knot on the entryway floor. Lily shuffled into it, dragging it along with her slow, methodical steps.

"The door! Move, so I can open it," Hermione gasped when she had caught her breath. He shot her a panicked glance and then sidled to the right, just enough for her to open it a crack and them both to slide through. Slamming the door behind her, Hermione leaned against it and panted in terror, hardly feeling the smarting of her wounds.

The sunlight was harsh, bright and so far removed from the horror in the house that Hermione experienced a dizzying sense of unreality. The street was deserted except for a small dog that trotted along the gulley, its nose to the cement. A cool breeze wafted across the porch, blowing a lock of hair across her neck to stick to her sweaty skin. It was as if they had just pushed pause to stop a particularly scary movie and were now in the kitchen refreshing their drinks. If it were not for the disheveled man pacing on the porch, his hands clawing at greasy hanks of black hair, she might have considered it her imagination... until something heavy thumped against a wall in the house and the clattering of umbrellas scattering on a wood floor startled her back to the present.

"What in Merlin's name were you thinking?!" she shouted into the quiet of the afternoon.

"I don't know!" He rounded on her, his face as open and expressive as she had ever seen it. "It wasn't supposed to be like this!"

"Well that's obvious, isn't it? I told you that you had to mean it! I told you that I would help!"

"If I had told you what I meant to do, then you would have left!" he hissed, jabbing one long, pale finger into her face.

She grabbed the finger and yanked it to the side. "I would have tried to talk some sense into you! This..." she waved her free hand at the door against which she was still leaning, "this is totally barbaric!"

"I had to try! It was my fault that she died..." He trailed off and seemed to wilt, his finger going slack in her grip. "I thought that maybe we could have a second chance." Hermione released his finger, and it fell to his side as he tilted his head to stare at the ground. Staring at the curtain of lank hair, Hermione felt the familiar tears well in her eyes as the last bits of her heart were mashed into pulp.

"Of course," she mumbled, blinking wetly as the fight drained out of her and dragged her eyes away from his hair. It was too painful to look at it. "Because you love her."

Raising his head slowly, distracted out of his self-castigation by the broken tone of her voice, Severus was met with the sight of a messy mop of brown curls. He wished she would raise her face so that he could see her eyes. He had understood little from his brief brush with her mind; it had been a jumble of people and places that he didn't know, bombarding him when he was only semi-coherent, but the love with which she had enveloped him had filled him with hope. Heidi loved him. She loved him. But that was before Lily had emerged from the basement like some pulp fiction nightmare.

He raked a hand through his hair, dragging his fingers between the oily strands. A deep, integral part of him had broken open when Lily had risen from the table, not as the woman he remembered, but as a dead thing, a mockery of the vibrant being she had been. He was a fool to have attempted this, to put Lily through more suffering after what she had endured. She was in that rotting carcass of a body; he could almost sense her presence. It was a tenuous, strained feeling, as if she were a butterfly tied to this world by a hair, and his soul recoiled from what he had done. He loved Lily... but he should have let her go. She had never wanted him in the first place. Not like the woman before him did.

He was certain that he would have gone mad if she had not been waiting for him at the top of the stairs. She was the Spellotape holding him together. Could she still love him after this? Had he just destroyed any and all chance at happiness with not one, but two women he had come to love? It would only be as much as he deserved, but he refused to let go of Heidi without a fight. He could convince her to stay. He could make her forget about that other man, the blond with whom she had dined and whom she didn't want.

"Yes," he admitted quietly to the top of her head, deciding that honesty would be the best policy with Heidi. She turned her head away, further obscuring her face with tangles of hair. Why wouldn't she look at him? Desperation pushed its fingers into his brain. "Heidi, listen to me," he said and grabbed her shoulders with his hands, giving her a small shake for emphasis.

Heidi brushed his hands away from her shoulders and made a sound suspiciously close to a snuffle, but her voice was steady, if slightly husky. "There is nothing more to say. And we still have a slight problem."

The pain of the reminder and her denial lanced him to the quick with an almost physical rending. He had to explain, make her understand how he felt. And, if need be, there were always those ways that Lucius had mentioned...

A heavy thud against the door startled them both, and he pulled her into his arms, the only salve that could sooth his wounded soul. Wide eyed, she shuddered against him and wiped absently at her face. "Normal spells aren't working," she said quickly and sniffed. "But I'll try barring the door."

Reluctantly, Severus relinquished her wand and his embrace, but used the opportunity to wrap his hand around her left arm. If he held her, then she couldn't leave. It made a certain amount of sense that he refused to examine for flaws.

Twirling her wand in a complicated spiral, she mumbled, "Obfirmobolto." The door glowed mutedly, and when the next blow thumped against the wood, it rattled against several thick deadbolts imbedded in the door and frame.

"That won't stop... her... for long," he said, stumbling over referring to the creature as Lily as another heavy blow hit the door. Heidi scowled at him, but didn't move away, for which he was dreadfully grateful. Something must have shown in his face because her scowl softened slightly.

"You know we'll have to..." She trailed off and looked away uncomfortably.

"... Destroy her," he choked out. But they wouldn't be destroying her; they would be setting her free. He had to focus on that.

"How did you...?"

"Thaumaturgy." She glanced up at him, curiosity brightening her eyes, and he almost laughed. "Potions revived the flesh, and the Starglass was the catalyst to call and bind the soul."

She nodded, still watching him carefully, the wheels of her mind whirring almost audibly behind her eyes. "I've read about Thaumaturgy, but it said that the art is largely unpracticed. But if you were to wish back her soul, then what went wrong?"

The door rattled again, and a dim golden glow edged the frame, crackling slightly as it strained against the bolts. Heidi jumped, pressing against him as she glanced nervously at the door, and he snaked an arm around her waist. If he held her...

"Severus? What went wrong?"

He sighed, closing his eyes. What had gone wrong? He had been so distracted and conflicted, so guilty and angry that he couldn't quite remember. However, she was waiting for an answer, and he would give her one: one that was true, and yet designed to further his own agenda. Opening his eyes and staring intently into hers, he said, "I suppose... I didn't mean it."

Blood infused her cheeks, and her brown eyes lightened with a hope so warm that they almost glowed. He had her. He would keep her and survive Lily. When her lips parted, he was almost positive that she would kiss him, but she spoke instead. Of course she did.

"Well," she said and swallowed thickly, "perhaps we should use it to put things right."

Under the next blow, the door cracked and shuddered, the glow flaring brightly before extinguishing. Heidi swore colorfully and glared at the door, nudging him backward a few steps and training her wand at its center.

"Surely you don't use that spell for personal safety," he asked her, knowing full well that she had created that spell. Otherwise, he would have known it already.

She turned that black glare onto him. "Usually, it is quite resilient. Get ready," she snapped. "And remember, you have to..."

"Mean it, so you've said. Repeatedly." Hefting the small bottle in his hand, he cleared his mind and stilled his thoughts, grounding himself with the feel of her warm body pressed against his. For a moment, he felt invincible and ready to move mountains. Or at least, move on. And then Heidi stepped away from him, flicking her wand, and the door swung open.

Hermione felt him seize up, his tense energy surrounding him, crackling like static electricity and raising the fine hairs on the back of her neck. The creature now had both arms raised and outstretched, leaning toward them in supplication. Quietly, she said, "Severus, concentrate. Send her back."

He was simply staring at Lily, the bottle held almost forgotten in his hand. Wanting to groan in frustration, she grabbed his hand and squeezed, reinforcing her instructions. "She's suffering; send her back."

His wide, black eyes skittered over to her and then back to Lily, who had begun to advance. He seemed to shake himself and, stiffening his resolve, pointed the top of the Starglass at her like a wand. To Hermione's dismay, the crystal phial was inert.

"You're not concentrating!" she snapped unhelpfully. He bared his teeth in a grimace, but remained focused on the creature even as he took a step backward in retreat. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Hermione glanced behind them. They had maybe two more steps before they ran out of porch and tumbled down the stairs. Besides the injuries they would sustain, they would also be leading a magical creature into a Muggle neighborhood. And the Starglass was still not glowing.

One step backward.

Pursing her lips, Hermione cast about in her mind for a suitable spell and came up with one that had given her a bit of trouble as a student. She hadn't had occasion to use it since and wasn't too sure that it would actually do any good, but as they were taking that final step that would bring them to the edge of the stairs...

Gripping Severus' hand tightly and focusing on the first happy thought that came to mind: Severus admitting that he hadn't really meant to bring Lily back with that hungry, yearning expression on his face, she shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"

This silvery light that shot out of her wand was a shimmering, amorphous cloud, partially obscuring the creature behind it. Frowning, Hermione prepared to recast it when the cloud surged and split, one section coalescing into a larger animal than she had expected. Graceful and long-legged, a doe slowly strode toward Lily, its neck outstretched to sniff her hands. Beside her, Severus gasped, and the phial finally burst into pure, white light. Hardly visible, Lily wrapped her decaying arms around the doe's neck, and where she touched the Patronus, she became as incorporeal and opalescent as the embodiment of happy thoughts. As the doe nuzzled Lily's neck, an otter Patronus bounded up to them, its long body flowing in a silvered sine wave as it circled around their feet. The Starglass flared again, and Hermione closed her eyes in pain, turning her head away from the light. Even so, colored spots danced behind her eyelids, and the negative of a doe resting her head on a beautiful woman's shoulder burned into her retinas.

When Hermione opened her eyes, she and Severus were alone on the porch, and the Starglass was once again quiescent.

His knees buckled abruptly, and connected as they were, she sunk to the porch with him. Drawing his knees up under his chin, he wrapped his free arm around his knees and buried his head in the crook of his elbow. Silent and still, he sat; his fingers entangled with hers the only acknowledgment she had that he knew she was there.

Hermione took a deep, cleansing breath, unsure of her next move. She felt shut out and removed from the pain that Severus was clearly suffering; she wanted desperately to help, but an awkward shyness had settled over her. Hesitant to reach out to him, she wasn't even certain that she could bear it if he rejected her. After all, he had just sent the woman he loved back through the Veil. She must have misread him when he'd said he hadn't meant it. He had said that he still loved Lily, after all.

Heartsick or not, Hermione loved him, and the urge to comfort finally tore down her uncharacteristic timidity. Carefully, as if she were approaching a wounded rabbit, she leaned gently against his side, finally resting her head on his shoulder. A moment of disappointed fear shot through her when he released her hand and was instantly quelled when he wrapped that arm around her shoulders and drew her close. His other arm reached for her, and she was quickly enfolded in his embrace with his hot, shuddering breaths saturating her hair. The wounds on her back twinged, pulled and oozed, but she ignored them, clinging to him like a lifeline.

For long minutes they sat, Hermione treasuring each one until something cold and wet touched the back of her hand, startling her. Instantly, Severus was alert, tugging on her sharply as he tried to at once assess the danger and shield her from it. Unable to stifle her hiss of pain, Hermione winced and tried to alleviate the strain on her back.

"Blasted cat," Severus growled hoarsely through her hair at the kitten that was now stroking his cheek against Hermione's hand and rubbing up against Severus' side. Squirming more insistently, Hermione eased out of his embrace and reached around to touch her back. Curtains of greasy, foul-smelling hair swung forward to hide his face as he asked, "What's wrong?"

"My back. I think I've reopened the wounds."

With cautious, gentle hands, he guided her to turn in place, supporting her as she moved. He lifted her hair and settled it on her shoulder, prodding delicately at her back. "They're bleeding," he confirmed as his long, pale fingers slid slowly down her ribs to her waist. They didn't come to rest, however. With brushing strokes, they drew intricate patterns that permeated fabric and skin to burn into muscle. His touches soothed her and yet intensified the sorrow that was crawling up her throat and threatening to spill from her eyes. She didn't dare hope. That she wasn't crying now was a small miracle.

"I should go back to St. Mungo's," she whispered finally around the knot in her throat when his fingers didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. It wasn't that his hands were unwelcome, but to have this now when she knew he loved another was simply too much... and not enough.

"I have salve in the bathroom," he said quietly behind her.

Shivering, she tried to push her longing for more of his touch away and answered, "I can't reachf. I really think that I should see a Healer."

"I'll put it on you."

"Severus..."

"Please, let me put it on."

His quiet plea struck a chord within her, and she found that she couldn't deny him. "Alright."

He helped her to her feet and guided her to the bathroom with a hand still touching her waist. Quietly sitting on the rim of the bathtub with her feet braced against cold, white porcelain, she watched over her shoulder as he rummaged through the medicine chest above the sink, finally pulling a small pot from one of the upper shelves. Uncapping it, he set it on the sink and with hands that shook slightly, began to undo the buttons at her back. His face was still partially obscured by lank, black hair, and without stopping to think, she raised a hand to brush it out of his face and tuck it behind his ear. He eyed her warily, his hands freezing over one button; then he turned his face slowly, still watching her, until his lips touched her fingers. Hermione held her breath, silently daring him to continue, but frightened that he would. When those thin, slightly chapped lips stirred against her skin to place a tender kiss, Hermione was certain that she would melt in place and flow down the drain.

Dark eyes never straying from her face, he kissed another finger, lingering there with lips slightly parted and his hot, damp breath curling over her skin. Tension thrummed through his flesh to hers, and uncertainty flickered in the deep pits of his eyes, but so did a tenuous hope that seemed to swell the longer she allowed his touch. Unable to stop herself and unwilling if she could, her stomach swooping with giddy glee, she slid her fingers into his matted hair and pulled his head toward her. Closing her eyes, she pressed a kiss on lips opened in surprise. His hands abandoned her buttons and slipped around her waist as he leaned in to devour her. He was thorough, if unpolished, smashing her lips in his haste to explore her mouth, but she was just as eager, scraping her teeth against his tongue and suckling it to draw it further into her mouth. His fingers splayed and clenched against her stomach, and she wished that he would move them higher or lower; anything to sooth the ache that was coiling deep below his hands.

Dropping to his knees on the bathroom floor, he pressed his chest against her back, grinding a hard knot against her bum. Despite the promise of that friction and the frisson of want that exploded in her belly, she hissed in pain and arched her back away from the sting of her wounds, breaking their kiss.

Severus stumbled back quickly, an almost panicked expression on his face, and she felt the loss of his warmth acutely. "Maybe you could finish up back there," Hermione said huskily, "so that we could continue somewhere more comfortable?"

Staring blankly at her for a long moment, he nodded, a lopsided smile tugging at one corner of his lips. "Yes, indeed, we shouldn't let a fragile flower sit overlong on such a hard seat."

Rolling her eyes and giggling at the absurdity of the statement, Hermione watched him unfasten the rest of her buttons with fingers steadier and warmer than before. Though concentrating on his task, he would shoot her glances, both heated and hesitant, and with more difficulty than she could possibly imagine, she resisted the temptation to pull him back into a kiss. With a carefully warmed and wetted flannel, he blotted her back clean, frowning at the damage. After applying liberal amounts of a minty, blue salve that she recognized from fourth year Potions, he taped down several strips of white gauze. The wounds tingled and itched, but no longer hurt as he carefully refastened the buttons up the back of her dress.

Flexing her shoulders experimentally, she stood and turned to face him. He was bent slightly over the sink as he rinsed the flannel clean of blood, his hair once again hiding his face. "You're very good at that, you know. Did you ever consider becoming a Healer?"

"No," he said shortly.

She sighed, wondering if their kiss had been some fevered figment of her imagination. Deciding to test it, she stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his chest, leaning her head against his shoulder blades. He stiffened, the bones under her cheeks shifting beneath the skin; then he relaxed, resting an arm over hers. Pressing her nose against his shirt, she smiled. She had always like his shoulders: broad, but lean and stronger than they appeared. The arse pressed against her stomach didn't feel too shabby either, and she happily snuggled against him... until she inhaled.

"Ugh. You need a shower," she said, pulling away reluctantly. "And maybe burn these clothes."

Turning to face her, he scowled down at her as he leaned against the sink. "You aren't the picture of cleanliness either, my dear."

"You first." She wrinkled her nose and moved to step out of the bathroom when he caught her arm and tugged her back.

"You'll be here when I get out." It wasn't so much of a question as a confirmation. She nodded, dropping her eyes to the floor as the reminder of her imminent departure... and the reasons for it... sucked the happiness out of the moment.

"Heidi..." Severus ducked down until he could peer into her face. He felt her withdrawal, and it sent a sharp stab of fear through him. She couldn't leave him. He had things to explain, and Heidi would listen to him, forgive him, where Lily hadn't.

"I'll make some tea and take it to the parlor." She patted his hand and flashed him what she must have meant to be a smile. Gently pulling from his grasp, she left the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Severus was of half a mind to go after her, but spotted his stained, torn lab coat and disheveled, greasy hair. 'She kissed me like this?' he thought in bemused wonderment and then stripped out of his clothes. Heidi was right: he should burn them. Eradicate all trace of his misguided attempt to right the mistakes of his past. An image of the thing that had once been Lily threatened to overwhelm him, chilling his blood despite the warm spray of water cascading over his body. Pushing it away, he focused on Heidi's face just before she had kissed him, her eyes half lidded and her cheeks flushed. Lily had been lost to him years ago, even before she had died. And as much as it felt as if a piece of him were missing, he felt that he could accept that and move on. She was his future now; he would see to it.

Though it probably ranked as one of his fastest showers to date, it was also his most thorough. He washed in all of those places about which his mother had harped, including behind his ears, just in case Heidi... just in case. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stuck his head out of the bathroom to listen for movement, his heart pounding until he heard the quiet clatter of his cheap ceramic tea setting. He breathed a sigh of relief and slunk into his bedroom to change. Choosing a set of robes at random, he pulled them on over his undergarments and sped down the stairs and into the parlor. She glanced up at him over the rim of her teacup and gave him that smile-that-wasn't.

Sitting on the sofa closer to her than he would normally have dared, he pulled the Starglass from the pocket in which he had stowed it, setting it on the coffee table as he stared earnestly into her eyes. He opened his mouth, but the words he meant to convince her to stay refused to come. Setting the cup and saucer on the table, she asked, "Tea?"

"No, I don't want tea," he said impatiently. "Heidi..."

She looked at him questioningly, and his articulate tongue tied itself into a knot. Shutting his mouth with a snap, he stared at his knees. He didn't even know how to go about explaining his loneliness and desolation after Lily's death, nor the spark of hope that the Starglass had given him for finding some small bit of happiness. He couldn't put into words how much Heidi's arrival had seemed like a gift from the gods or how crushed he had been to realize that her friendship was transient. He could hardly admit to himself that his heart now beat for her alone.

"Severus?" she asked doubtfully.

"You said you were leaving. I didn't want..." he mumbled finally, feeling like a stuttering adolescent. "I thought maybe..." He made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and swept wet hair out of his eyes.

She sighed heavily and reached for one of his hands that rested on his knees, enfolding it in her own. "It's complicated."

He frowned at their clasped hands and then yanked it away as an image of her and a blond man (who looked remarkably like Lucius) holding hands flashed across his mind's eye. He had better not have to compete for her with Lucius because, old friend or not, he would win by any means necessary. "It's that blond man, isn't it?"

"Blond man?" she asked, staring blankly at him until realization widened her eyes. "You peeked into my mind! And for your information, no! He's not the complication!" She scooted away from him to the armrest of the sofa, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him a hard stare. This was not how he intended this conversation to go.

"No, wait. I'm... sorry." He held up a placating hand, willing to back down as long as he could get her to listen. Once he figured out what to say, that was.

To his amazement, she softened, truly smiling at him as she took his hand again. Gods, but she was wonderful.

"It wasn't your fault, you know, Severus," she said softly. "It was Peter Pettigrew's for betraying them and Voldemort's for murdering them. You did the best you could."

"Sirius Black betrayed them," he corrected her, suppressing the reflexive flinch that the name inspired and eyeing her through strands of drying black hair. "Everyone knows that."

She blinked, paling and flushing alternately, then swept a curly lock of hair out of her face. "That's not the point. The point is that it wasn't your fault." Her face clouded, and her eyes saddened, darkened. "But I won't be someone's second choice." This last she said to the teapot.

Severus wasn't sure what to address first: her mistaken naming of Pettigrew as the traitor, the fact that she knew far more about his past than he had ever guessed, or her implication that he had a choice. 'It's complicated,' she had said. He decided to pursue the last option, reckoning that once he convinced her to stay, then the others would come in time.

Unfortunately, his tongue still refused to cooperate with his higher reasoning, and he burst out with, "You said you were leaving!"

"It's..."

Abandoning words, he lunged forward before she could finish the sentence, kissing her roughly as he pressed her into the sofa with the weight of his body. She gasped into his mouth, arching her back off the sofa and then shifting her weight so that they both tumbled onto the ground with her straddling his hips. He didn't care who was on top, as long as she continued to touch him. And touch him she did, running her hands up his chest and over his shoulders as she squeezed him with her thighs. Sprawling over him, she tangled her fingers in his hair and planted noisy, wet kisses across his brow, down his nose, over his cheeks to his ears. When she nibbled one lobe between her teeth, he thanked his dearly departed mum for insisting that he wash behind them. His hands were full of soft, round, womanly bum, and he squeezed, his eyes rolling back when she ground down upon him. Her teeth scraped against his neck, grazing the long vein that throbbed against the tongue that followed. Delirious and painfully aroused, he traced the flare of her hips and dip of her waist with his hands, trailing searching fingers over her ribs on a quest for her breasts. He groaned as she shifted her weight so that he could palm them and then groaned again as her lips trapped his and her tongue demanded entrance. He kissed her as thoroughly as he knew how, and from the little whimpers issuing from the back of her throat, he felt smug, male pride that she liked it. That she liked him.

She confirmed it a moment later when she whispered against his lips, "I want you, Severus. I love you."

His heart soared as his pelvis rolled in reflex. "Then stay with me."

"Complicated," she whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"No, it's quite simple."

"You love Lily," she mumbled, nudging his ear with her nose. Her hot breath wafted across the sensitive rim, and he moaned softly, undone.

"I love you. I thought I couldn't have you." It was true; he still loved Lily and probably always would, but he didn't think that this was the time to share that information. And he did love Heidi. Completely.

"You have me," she assured him. Placing a kiss on his jaw, she snuggled into him, still sprawled on his chest. Relaxing the grip of her legs, she let her hips slide over his groin to rest against the floor, one thigh still pinning him down. As if he were inclined to go anywhere. He smiled, sliding one hand into her thick, curly hair while the other kneaded a breast.

"So, you'll stay with me?" he asked into her hair, wrinkling his nose as a strand tickled one nostril. Blowing it impatiently out of his face, he smoothed the top of her head with his cheek.

She yawned and said sleepily, "I'll stay."

Hermione woke several hours later, stiff, sore and utterly content. Smiling into Severus' robes, she thought happily that if she so enjoyed snogging him on the parlor floor, then she couldn't wait to get him into bed. He was enthusiastic, if a bit green, very intelligent, and they had all the time in the world to learn to please each other. Because she was staying.

Sighing blissfully, she considered this new life before her. She would miss her friends and family more than she could possibly conceive at that moment, but they wouldn't be truly lost to her, would they? They would simply know her as Heidi, the Potion master's... what? Girlfriend? Lover? Wife? It didn't matter, as long as she was his something. And he was hers. It would be fascinating to watch herself grow up. What kinds of choices would this alternate Hermione make differently? She would have to be careful, of course, but it was akin to running a grand, observational experiment.

Finding a new job might be difficult without O.W.L.s, N.E.W.T.s, or letters of recommendation, but she would find something. She would also be careful to not muck up the timeline any more than absolutely required (except for where his death was concerned – that she would prevent). Things would work themselves out and didn't need any fixing, as Severus had just disastrously demonstrated.

His failed attempt to raise Lily from the dead still bothered her deeply. She supposed that she should have expected something of the sort, given his slant toward the Dark Arts and the versatility of the Starglass. The nature of his love for Lily was also due some thought, for it was warped, at best. It seemed to be closer to obsession than love. Whatever it was, it was unhealthy, but he loved her, now, so she would simply have to get over it. She could dwell on the past or she could move on to the... well, past, which was now her future...

'Which reminds me,' she thought as she yawned widely. 'I need to send messages to my friends and family and grab Crookshanks.' She paused a moment, then decided to stick to the story she had told Harry: that she had met someone on her trip and was going to stay with him, which, in essence, was the truth. It might even be a wasted effort. That timeline might wink out of existence the minute she entered the past to stay. But she didn't know and wouldn't want to chance that her friends and family would think something horrible had happened to her.

It was dangerous, what she had decided to do: dangerous and quite possibly very stupid. She may not have considered it if her life in the future was the life she had lived. As it was, that life belonged to a different Hermione, and this was her chance to start anew with the man she loved. She hoped that it was the everlasting kind of love.

Carefully lifting her body so as not to disturb Severus, she plucked her wand and the Starglass from the coffee table and levitated his inert form to the sofa.

As noiselessly as she could, she left the house, sending the sleeping man within a promise to return soon. If all went as she planned, she would be back in an hour or so, perhaps even before he awoke. To save time, she Apparated directly to the bottom of the well, holding the Starglass safely to her chest.

'Take me back to my own time,' she told it, focusing on the time period she had resolved to abandon. It flared brightly, light streaming between her fingers as a familiar weightlessness claimed her body. Closing her eyes, she smiled peacefully into the nothingness until she felt firm ground under her feet.

A fine mist dusted her skin, and she opened her eyes, turning her face to the entrance of the well. The afternoon sky was dark with rain clouds, and a gentle drizzle fell softly to bead on her cheeks. Stretching her arms above her head, she spread her fingers in welcome to the rain, laughing lightly. It was as if her own time was giving her a teary send-off, and she accepted it joyously, blowing a kiss to the heavens.

Until she realized that she was no longer holding the Starglass.

A/N: I suppose that you can guess that I am very fond of horror movies and novels. Hope it wasn't too squicky. If it was, then rest assured that there isn't any more.

On a side note: I'll be out of town for a couple of weeks. If I have the opportunity to post while I'm away, then I will. However, there is a strong likelihood that the next chapter won't go up until I get back. However, this chapter was longer than normal, so it's as if you got two chapter this week!

I'm still behind on review responses, and for that, I apologize.