You

A/N: Thanks again to my wonderful beta, MadBrilliant. Please review!

***

And you, you make me run,

"You" by Fisher

***

Severus Snape was working in the outdoors, digging ditches for the Hogwarts plumbing system. He worked while magically bound to the other prisoners on either side of him. They all worked silently and in tandem. He was grateful for the hard work. He had positively wasted away during the last year. He had not been well for quite some time, due to the stress of being Headmaster, and working even more precariously for the Dark Lord had left him with various kinds of digestive and ulcerative disorders...and all this before Nagini had gotten to him! But the fresh air, manual labor, and rugged meals of raw vegetables and beans helped to ease his pain and cure his ulcers, and with time, he no longer suffered physically from the effects of the many Cruciatus curses he had endured at the hands of the Dark Lord and Nagini's vicious attack.

Now that his physique was returning, the weedy emaciated look of him disappeared. He was stronger now than he ever had been before in his life, even when he was healthy. All his life, he had been scraping by, and for years, he had worried over his cover as a spy being blown. Now he knew the simple value of hard work...back breaking work that did not require him to use his brains, and he was a better man for it. For far too many years, he had lived on mental overdrive to the point of mental exhaustion that had threatened a total physical and mental breakdown. He realized as he worked that he had spent far too much time in his head for his own good. So, he took a mental vacation and it quickly changed him. Severus Snape was no longer the petty, spiteful, and bitter man he had once been. Although his personality would always be sardonic and distrustful, he found sanity in his work; a kind of 'occupational therapy' to stave off the bouts of melancholy and brooding he was prone to suffer from time to time. So, he worked very hard to rid his soul of all the poison he had held onto for twisted comfort. Even the Aurors, who guarded the prisoners, had grudgingly noted in their reports to the Ministry that Snape was turning out to be a model prisoner. Of course, Snape was known for his duplicity, so two months was not going to be a rounding endorsement that Snape was rehabilitated. He would be scrutinized for a long time coming before that would happen!

But Snape realized he didn't care about the Ministry or what anyone else thought of him anymore. He was so used to having to look over his shoulder constantly, wondering if someone was laughing behind his back, or plotting to execute him. Those days were gone. It was now a general consensus...Severus Snape was a pitiful coward, a murderer...ah, no, a man who had committed manslaughter, a weak person who had aided another to commit suicide. There were no massive black robes to wrap himself up in, no one to fear him so he could be safe from ridicule. He had been stripped and laid bare for the Wizarding world to see and have a go. All that remained now was a singular protective wall around him that refused to budge. He had erected it at such a young age it was a part of him now as much as his brain, his foot, or his torso.

And all the people he once loved, served, or had been his friends, even those who had just shown him kindness in the face of his disdainful attitude towards them, were all dead. Lucius' death had been the hardest to accept along with Draco's and Remus'. How he wished he could have a few moments back so he could tell that werewolf how much he had appreciated his friendship! After all the hateful, spiteful things he had said and done, not once did Remus ever side with Sirius against him during those blasted Order meetings. Now, he was truly alone. Those who worked alongside him were men he had very little knowledge of, or were only acquaintances at best. The ones who had known him, really known him, and had truly cared about him, were dead. The people who knew him who were alive now and living free lives were people who only knew the worst parts of his personality: the Death Eater who had killed Albus Dumbledore. But he had refused to fight against the Light and bear arms with the Dark Lord, so he was saved from a lifetime sentence in Azkaban. There, in the dank and dreary prison were some that lived who knew him, and he knew if they ever crossed paths, he would be dead.

No, Severus had decided to give up his former prejudices and grudges against his old childhood enemies. They were all dead now. He had paid his debt to save Lily's son, and now Harry was, from what he heard, happily dating Ginny Weasley and working to become an Auror. Everything he had held onto was meaningless. All his devotion for Lily, his precious books, the black robes he hid behind and used to intimidate, his profession, and his grudges, hell, even his title of Potions master was gone. He owned nothing and had nothing to give. He had resigned himself to his fate, working as hard as he could during the day so he could collapse into a deep sleep of pure exhaustion at night. Life was basic and uncomplicated at its best; a day-to-day existence with nothing really to anticipate anymore. And that was the blessed part of it. Severus Snape actually had never been happier in his life. He no longer had to think four steps ahead of everybody else. No one wanted anything from him. He no longer had to fear for his life. It was simple, quiet, and easy. For that, he was grateful.

***

Hermione walked from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts where she was greeted by Madam Sprout and taken to her quarters. She bunked with several other girls in a magical tent, similar to the one she had stayed in during the Quidditch World Cup. After getting settled in, she changed into an older robe and pinned back her hair. She wanted to make sure she looked like an adult, capable for the task she had set out to do: to be a Mediwitch assistant. She set her mind to the task and decided she was not going to take no for an answer.

She marched off, bold as brass, to see Madam Pomfrey. The Mediwitch surely had to be in over her head, dealing with the various ailments of the Death Eater prisoners. She knew she could stand up to the task. After all, she had fought in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries and the 1st and 2nd battle of Hogwarts. She was a war veteran, for the love of Merlin!

She approached the Mediwitch's tent and took in its surroundings. It was a large tent, magically temperate inside and protected from the elements. The floor was wooden and had a vast number of cots for whomever needed them. There was a running cabinet on one side of the tent, and at the end a large bureau stood. Hermione knew by glancing at it that it was magically sealed. On the back wall near the back entrance where Hermione walked in was Madam Pomfrey's desk. One could tell she had her hands full with massive amounts of paperwork. She called for the Mediwitch. "Hello? Madam Pomfrey?"

"She's gone. Stepped out for a mo'.'" A disgusting man in rags of filth she hadn't noticed at first glance leered at her. "What's your name, love?" He was standing near her with his arm in a sling. He also looked as if he had been brawling.

Hermione whipped out her wand and aimed it between the man's eyes. She was calm and collected. "I'm not your love, and my name is none of your business!" she snapped angrily.

Madam Pomfrey came in from the main entrance at the other end of the tent and shrieked. Hermione was not affected by it.

"Hermione Granger! What on earth are you doing?" she chided.

"She was probably putting Mackenerney in his place," answered a cool voice.

Hermione stepped back from the man and looked over towards Madam Pomfrey. Beside her was Severus Snape. He was dressed in the same striped prisoners' rags, but looked cleaner than the filth in front of her. He was carrying a crate of sorts, and she noticed he did not look her in the eye. Strange, Professor Snape always looks someone in the eye...he bores his eyes into yours by way of intimidation. What is this about? she thought.

"Severus, place the potions down there and report back to Auror Bedford. He is expecting you," Madam Pomfrey said with a superior air.

"Certainly," he whispered and walked out.

Hermione was outraged. That man was Severus Snape? Sure, he still had his long black hair, tied back, of course, and his face and height were still the same, but his build was stronger, the pale sallow color was gone from him and had been replaced with sun-blown skin. His entire demeanor was so unlike him as well! He acted as if he were lower than both of the women present. Whatever had happened to the sneering Potions master she had always known?

Poppy Pomfrey noticed her shock as she unpacked her parcel. "Yes, dear, that is the former Professor Severus Snape. It is remarkable. The man who for years made men cower in his presence is now humbled." She smirked as she spoke.

"What do you mean 'humbled'?" Hermione asked, puzzled by the remark.

Poppy's eyes went huge and gave Hermione her full attention. "My dear, didn't you know? After Lucius was finally found dead, Narcissa committed suicide. Lucius' death along with Draco's death in the war; her grief was too much to bear. Severus was devastated. He had been so close to all of them. After all, he had done so much and risked his life to save Draco from Voldemort. Such a waste! Draco had fought so well for our side in the final battle, it was just a shame for him to die! Then when he found out that so many of the Order also had perished, it was as if his heart finally had been broken beyond repair. He especially took Remus Lupin's death hard. He had been a good friend to Severus, but Severus had wasted all his chances to tell Remus how much his friendship had meant to him. Severus is no longer the same man...thank heaven for that! I, for one, am glad he is here. It will do him well to eat some humble crow after all the sneering and snarking he did around here for so many years!"

Hermione was taken aback by Madam Pomfrey's cavalier attitude towards the professor. Most of what he did had been an act, a part of his cover as a spy. Sure, he had been a sarcastic and moody person whom she had been absolutely terrified of ever since her first year when he had snapped at her for having her hand up in class and called her a "silly girl." But the last two years of school, coupled with the events of Dumbledore's death, she had known he was really not the abhorrent, vile, loathsome man she had thought him to be.

Hermione was mystified at Madam Pomfrey's lack of compassion for the wizard. Hermione refused to believe he had murdered Dumbledore out of evil intentions. She trusted and believed in him. After all the years of believing in the Potions master's strength, it was another crumbling of the life she had known. She didn't want to believe the man, who had for two decades stood as a double agent against Voldemort, was the man she had just seen. He shouldn't be a prisoner! He should be with the others, inside the castle, brewing potions, and helping to restore the Old Magic back into the stones. As if any of them up there had half the knowledge and talent for potion making! But because of prejudice and politics, he was instead only fit to dig ditches for the castle's plumbing! What a waste indeed! she seethed while looking at Madam Pomfrey. She slowly walked to the edge of the tent and followed him with her eyes. He met up with someone who seemed to be an Auror. An Incantation was whispered and a circle of gold flashed around Snape's neck and vanished. He went back to working on the line. She watched him dig with his shovel, hiding half her face behind the tent. She gripped the canvas in her anger and sorrow. She finally turned away from the sight. It hurt too much.

She came back to herself and said, "Madam Pomfrey, do you need help with the prisoners? I can assist you in whatever you need. Being a former Mediwitch assistant at St. Mungo's and living with the Weasleys has given me a lot of practice in healing charms and basic first-aid."

Pomfrey's eyes widened. "Why on earth would you want to expose yourself to the likes of that?" She pointed at the smarmy Mackenerney as she spoke.

"Madam Pomfrey, this the career path I have chosen, and I figure not only will I be helping out Hogwarts and Wizarding kind, I also will be gaining some practical applications under my belt." She stole a glance at the filthy Mackenerney and looked back at Madam Pomfrey. "Besides, a Mediwitch does not look at the body, nor the state of mind, to determine if a person is worth saving. All life is sacred."

Pomfrey smiled. "Well, it's not like they can hurt you. Each prisoner has a charm on them. If they even so much as touch another person who is not a prisoner, they will start choking as if they are being hanged until an Auror can take off the curse. Unfortunately, the language and behavior is still most vile, not for the ears of a young lady like yourself!"

"Please, Madam Pomfrey, I'm begging you, give me a chance...a trial period, and if I don't make the cut, you can send me packing back to Madam Sprout."

Pomfrey looked the young woman over again. She sighed as she tried to make some sense of the massive pile up on her desk. I don't have time to babysit these monsters and deal with their whining over silly ailments. Why not let the Granger girl do it? Finally, she spoke. "All right, it's not as if I have offers coming out of my arse! No one wants to work with these poor beggers, not to mention heal them. And as you can see, I'm up to my neck in administrative matters. You'll learn soon enough that this 'program' runs on its paperwork! Well, let's get you started. I'll introduce you to the Aurors. You'll know most of them, I'm sure."

She followed the Mediwitch out of the tent and went around to meet the Aurors. There were a large group of them congregating around the main entrance of the Prisoners' sector. Hermione recognized only a couple of them. Most of the Aurors she had known died in the war.

Madam Pomfrey called out to the group of wizards. "Hello!" she shrilled. "I want you to meet my new assistant, Miss Hermione Granger."

The Aurors, who were all men, lit up like fairy lights at the mention of her name.

"Hermione Granger, you're the friend of our Mr. Potter, eh?" asked one large man.

"Yes, Harry and I have been friends since our first year at Hogwarts," she replied.

"So modest!" laughed another Auror. "I don' s'pose you 'meber me?"

Hermione gave a shy smile and politely shook her head.

"Me name's Dawlish, Miss."

"Dawlish! Of course, I'm sorry. You were at Order meetings sometimes!" Hermione instinctively grabbed hold of his arm and gave a sincere smile. "It is so good to see familiar faces!"

The other Aurors chuckled warmly. They knew exactly Hermione's meaning. There had been so much death, so much loss. The Auror department had been hit hard during the war. Most of them now consisted of new recruits who had been held back during the final battle so the department would not be completely decimated.

Dawlish continued. "The four of us is all's left, Miss...of the old crowd, tha' is. This is Proudfoot; 'e was wi' Tonks two years back, 'elpin' Dumbledore guard 'Ogwarts. 'E's the Senior Auror in charge 'round here."

Hermione shook the hand of the large wizard who had spoken earlier. She did not remember him, but was grateful to meet someone who had survived after so much.

"This here is Savage and Williamson. Savage was also wi' me, Tonks and Proudfoot. I guess you ladies would be wantin' a tour o' the place, eh?" he asked.

"Please," asked Madam Pomfrey sweetly. "Hermione needs to be completely aware of the comings and goings, rules, regulations, and whatnot."

"Very well, Mum. Let's ge' on it then. Cheerio, lads!" he called to the group.

Although Dawlish was to give the tour, Madam Pomfrey interrupted him at will to add in her comments. Hermione was given the rules of prisoner treatment. Every examination and healing had to be done in the presence of an Auror, because physical contact was necessary. She was never to allow herself to be alone with a prisoner without express permission. And it was pointed out to her that since she was an assistant, not a Mediwitch, there would be no reason for her ever to be alone with a prisoner.

Everywhere Hermione walked, she saw the ravages of defeat. Each prisoner had had his wand confiscated and was forced to live like a Muggle. Their sector was both bound magically and visibly. Barbed wire enclosed them. They lived in tents, and the place was filthy and muddy. The men she saw here were broken and without hope. They huddled in groups, murmuring softly, or sat in the filth with a blanket around them, looking as if they had been given the Dementor's Kiss. There was so much loneliness here, so much pain and hopelessness. She felt so very sorry for them. They all reminded her of Ron. She must have had a very grim look about her face because Poppy pulled her aside and spoke to her sharply.

"Look, Miss Granger, you had best pull yourself together! I understand having sympathy for another human being, but you have to keep an emotional distance, or you will find yourself wrung out over all the pain here. Believe me, I know," she said with a hard glint in her eyes.

"Madam Pomfrey," Hermione whispered, lifting her robes as they weaved their way through the muck and mud of the Prisoners' sector, jumping over puddles and avoiding piles of rubbish, "this seems to be completely barbaric for men who are supposed to be 'low-level risk' prisoners! I thought the idea behind Shacklebolt's program was to give these men a better alternative to Azkaban!"

Poppy barked a laugh. She grabbed Hermione tightly by the arms and furiously ripped into her.

"Do you know what kind of hell-hole Azkaban is? I've seen it, and whatever putrid filth these men must live in now is far superior to what they'd get there! At least they get the fresh air and clean food!"

Hermione looked at Dawlish. He looked sheepish as he scratched the back of his head, trying not to notice Madam Pomfrey scold her new assistant. He seemed uncomfortable with the prisoners' treatment as well, by the way he spoke of it, but he never actually said anything derogatory. It seemed to Hermione that one could go ahead and think what they would, but never speak aloud anything contradictory to the rules.

Hermione was not placated by this epiphany. "And what will happen to these poor men, exactly, when the cold settles in? It's practically fall now, and I don't see any way these men are going to survive in the elements like this!" she challenged Madam Pomfrey.

Madam Pomfrey jabbed her index finger into Hermione's chest. "You, my girl, will leave that up to the Aurors! They are the ones in charge here, not us. We will clean, tend, bandage, heal their wounds and diseases, but we are not into politics! I know all about you and your causes, Miss Granger," the mediwitch spat scornfully. "If I catch one whiff of conspiring against the Aurors here, you will be pushed off this site altogether!" She was yanked back in line with Dawlish, and she kept her mouth shut, but her eyes and ears were very open.

She continued with Madam Pomfrey and Dawlish as they continued her tour of the Prisoners' sector. She passed by where a group of men were digging a ditch outside the perimeter. The men were in a right tidy row, working close beside one another. She shielded her eyes from the glaring sun and saw Professor Snape again and noticed how strong he was. He had always been thin and trim, but he seemed slightly stronger-looking. Perhaps the healthy shade of his skin gave him a robust look. Dawlish spoke about the prisoners' work outside the sector, but Hermione couldn't hear him. She was mesmerized by her old teacher. She was grateful she was standing slightly behind Pomfrey so she wouldn't catch her looking at the black-haired man as he worked. She found herself wishing he would look at her with his onyx eyes. It still hurt to see him reduced to such a life, but now, seeing how calm his face looked, all the tension released from his face, surrounded by the beautiful outdoors, it seemed like the best solution for now. At least that was what she decided to tell herself. She found herself longing for the days when he had been the formidable bat of the dungeons. She couldn't have him in his black robes, but he still had those eyes that could sear right through you. She longed for one of those looks again. Why, she did not know. Finally, they moved on, and she turned her back to him.

***

What Hermione had not realized was that Snape had noticed her. It seemed ages since he had seen her last. She had imprinted herself on his memory as a scrawny little girl with impossible hair and a know-it-all attitude. Yet, when he had last seen her, he realized she was a beautiful, albeit sad, young woman. Now, she was a woman who carried herself with poise and strength. The odd feeling inside him at the sight of the adult Hermione Granger had returned. He had not felt it since he saw her at his sentencing. She was beautiful. He put more force into his work and cursed that she was here. He did not want her seeing him like this. He did not want to complicate the simplicity and peace he had finally found.

He lay in bed that night, staring up at the stars, and tried to sleep with an irritating erection annoying him. Some men didn't give two shites about decorum and would masturbate in front of anyone. Severus would not do that. He would do it while relieving himself in the woods, which meant an Auror would be near-by. Most of them would just turn their heads and pretend nothing was happening, while some would jeer at him. He had quickly learned who was sympathetic and who was not. He prayed a sympathetic Auror would be the one to take him to the woods in the morning.

***

Auror Carson nervously stepped a distance away from Snape so the prisoner could relive himself of what seemed to be a very painful erection. Snape knelt down and pictured Hermione as he did yesterday. He imagined her skin, lips, and her curly hair. He imagined her undoing her hair and allowing her unruly curls to cover his groin as she took his cock in her mouth. He shouted as he spilled his seed onto the forest floor. It was something he tried very hard not to do with an audience nearby. However, Carson was a young Auror, and unmarried. Snape didn't feel too humiliated. He was sure Carson did the same thing every other day.

Nevertheless, Snape was bothered by his reaction to Hermione. His happy, meaningless life was quickly becoming meaningful, and that bothered him. As the days passed, he found himself looking out for glimpses of her while she walked back and forth from the castle to the makeshift infirmary tent. She was so beautiful. She wore a crisp white apron covering the traditional burgundy bodice and skirt. She kept her hair up, but her impossible curls would never stay completed fixed. The wind would always whip the wavy strands lose. She was, as always, focused, hardworking and helpful. She was constantly running back and forth from the infirmary to the Prisoners' sector to help out with whatever they needed. There were times she looked dead tired and exhausted, her hair half down from the confines of her pins, great dirt or blood smears on her apron, and dark circles under her eyes. But she was beautiful. There just was no other word he could think to describe her. He contemplated even injuring himself on purpose just so he could have an excuse to have her touch him. His desire for her was growing at an alarming rate. Although he knew he would never be able to touch her; it would be impossible...not with the Untouchable Charm over him.

One day with his mind elsewhere, he finally got his wish. Except another prisoner had cut Snape's hand with his shovel while Snape had been distracted watching Hermione. Auror Dawlish, who knew Hermione, was more than happy to pop round to see a friendly face and ushered him in. Snape was so happy he could have cried. But no one would have known by the look on his face. He sat stone-faced while she chatted away with Dawlish. She was unaware of her unnecessary touching and holding of his hand. He watched her smile and laugh; he even could make out a more distinct outline of her breasts outlining her shirt close-up. He had never realized how truly remarkable she was and always had been. He had always short-changed her in Potions. She was truly a gifted witch. But he could never have allowed the small stirring of feelings to be encouraged. Even as he sat, watching her, a part of him wanted to run from her, to forget the seed of hope that was buried deep inside and starting to grow. At the same time, however, that same seed of hope made him feel exhilarated. This once insufferable girl made him want to live for more than what the existence he had now gave him. Although he truly believed her smile was what caused the sun to rise each morning, it was too painful and too joyful all at the same time to contemplate.

He was still, no matter what indignities had been forced upon him, a master at subterfuge and an expert at masking his true feelings. He decided that until he could work out these conflicting emotions, he would have to keep them under control. He was shaken out of his thoughts when another Auror called Dawlish to the tent opening. Snape found himself left alone with Hermione. She looked into his expressionless face and locked her eyes onto his piercing, dark ones. He held hers for a moment before lowering them back down, as he should.

Hermione worked in the silence as Dawlish continued his chatting. She wanted so badly to say something to the professor...no, Severus, now. However, he was so unapproachable and distant. He acted as if neither of them were there. He did not, however, resist her treatment of his hand. The long pale fingers were now tanned and hardened from the manual labor he preformed every day. She held his large, strong, powerful hand in her own small, white ones and trembled inside at the reality of being able to touch him. If it were not for his hair and face, she just wouldn't believe it was truly him. Nonetheless, here he was, and the moment he gave of staring into her eyes gave her thrills beyond compare. He was in there. He was just playing the game to survive. She suppressed an urge to laugh. Why would she want so desperately to have her snarky, spiteful Potions master back, sneering and verbally cutting into her?

"Is there something you find amusing, Miss Granger?" he murmured barely above a whisper.

"No," she replied as she finished his bandaging. A smile crept on her face. It was so good to hear that sarcastic voice again!

He stood up and she followed suit. Auror Dawlish was back at Hermione's side.

She continued to look at her teacher as she told Dawlish she was finished tending to him. Snape looked away from her gaze, as he knew what was required. She smelled delicious. She is so beautiful. He had heard through the grapevine that Weasley had committed suicide. Therefore, she was all alone and unattached. She was still Miss Granger, his Miss Granger, who had fought for his life in the Shrieking Shack and later for his freedom.

Each evening after that day in the infirmary, he allowed himself to fantasize about a life with her, making love to her. He would look up into the clear sky and watch the stars twinkle and shine. He never had inclinations before towards stargazing and other such romantic nonsense. But then he had been choking with hate and rage. Now, the absence of it left an emptiness that was uncomfortable. It would never happen, she would never want him, but, perhaps he wasn't completely dead inside if he could still feel such desires. Hope: the pain and the joy of it all. He wanted to run from it, to embrace it, and to accept all its possibilities at the same time.