Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

– Part I – 
Of Peeling an Onion

- - -

I talk in circles,
I talk in circles,
I watch for signals,
for a clue.
How to feel different.
How to feel new.
Like science fiction
bending truth.

(Sleeping at Last – Mercury)

  “You have to let it slowly flow into the potion, drop by drop. Angle the cauldron slightly and then let it flow.” Master Dendron mimicked the movement with his hand while he raised his bushy grey eyebrows far up his wrinkly forehead. 

  Severus took his wand and did as his mentor had told him. The cauldron hung on a hook above the fire. With a quick flick of his wand, it tilted approximately twenty degrees in his direction and the simmering potion climbed up the inner wall. He took the Erumpent's fluid and a dropper, carefully drew up some of the light-yellow fluid, and put the tip against the edge of the cauldron. He squeezed the rubber ball, very carefully, and observed the first drop running down towards the potion, his heart thumping. 

  The potion bubbled and seethed when the fluids met, climbing a few inches higher – but it did not explode. Severus looked up at Master Dendron. A huge smile blossomed on the old face. “Drop by drop,” he repeated and nodded at him.

  Five more to go.

  But before Severus was able to let the second drop of the fluid flow into the soon-to-be fertilizer there was a crack. He flinched. 

  Master Dendron looked past Severus. “What was that?” he asked, unsettled. 

  Severus swiftly closed his eyes. He had to concentrate harder. Being here almost cost him more strength than he had left, he had to concentrate harder. “Nothing,” he said. When he looked back down at the potion, his hand holding the dropper was trembling. He inhaled and exhaled a few times, the trembling subsided. Now, the second drop.

  He just wanted to put the tip of the dropper back against the cauldron's edge when he heard another sound. A slapping. Repeatedly. Accompanied by a quaking of the lab.

  “Something is happening,” Master Dendron said and drew up his robe in front of his body to walk past Severus and see for himself. 

  But Severus extended his hand and stopped him. “Don't,” he said, looking his mentor straight in the eyes.

  Frowning, the old man cast a glance past Severus. “What is going on, Severus?”

  He squinted his eyes shut against his pulse whooshing in his ears. He circled his shoulders, unable to stop his hand from trembling again. Carefully, he put the dropper aside; Erumpent's fluid was the last thing he wanted to accidentally drop. “I … really … want to finish this potion,” he pressed out. His knuckles cracked when he clenched his fists. 

  “But something is happening out there …”

  “Yes!” Severus hissed. “That's why I am here!” And not there, he added silently.

  His mentor's gaze hit him like a Full Body-Bind Curse. “Explain this to me, Severus.” He said it in a calm voice but it was clear that he wouldn't accept another refusal.

  Severus swallowed. He closed his eyes. Back to the start, he thought. He just had to start all over again and this problem would be solved. When he blinked, the cauldron in front of him was empty, the ingredients were lined up neatly on the table, and Master Dendron looked at him kindly. “Well, Severus, what are we going to do today?”

  Severus took a deep breath. The knot in his chest loosened. He was just opening his mouth to talk about the fertilizer when the lab shook again, when there was another slapping sound. 

  And then it began anew.

  “What was that?” - “Nothing.” - “Something is happening.” - “Don't.”

  Until he was back to where he had just started from scratch – only this time the cauldron had remained empty.

  “Severus, tell me what is happening.” The blue eyes of his mentor glistened in the lab's light. Severus wanted to look away but he couldn't. “Explain this to me,” Master Dendron repeated, it sounded almost hypnotic.

  Severus swallowed. Then he was finally able to avert his eyes and pull a heap of Shrivelfigs closer. He needed to peel them. “It all began with the death of the Dark Lord,” he said hoarsely and stripped the white pulp from its first layer of skin. “They suspected something …”

  “Who suspected something?” Master Dendron asked, accompanied by another quaking when Severus didn't continue talking.

  “The other Death Eaters. Lucius …”

  A flicker slid over the wrinkly face. “This blond man who picked you up here some time ago?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he suspect?”

  Severus paused. The blade of his knife hovered an inch above the fig. Trembling. He lifted his haunted gaze. “That I was working for the other side.”

  He saw Master Dendron swallow thickly. “When was that?”

  Severus shrugged and peeled the next part of the skin from the fig. “A few weeks ago … months … Who's counting?” His voice faded.

  “Is that why you came here? Because they suspect you?”

  He snorted. “No. I wouldn't have come here because of a suspicion, master.” He threw the first finished fig into the empty cauldron beside him. “I came here because they found evidence. And me …”

  “What did they do to you?” Master Dendron asked intently.

  His mouth suddenly went dry. He heard screams as if they were coming from a badly adjusted wireless. Flinched when pain struck his body.

  No!, Severus thought. “No.”

  “Severus, please …”

  “No!”, he exclaimed whirling around. “I will not talk about it. That's not why I'm here!”

  The old man frowned. “But something is happening out there, Severus.” Accentuated by another quaking, stronger this time. And again this … slapping.

  “I don't want to know!”

  “Professor Snape?”

  Master Dendron looked up startled at where the voice had come from. “Who is this?”

  “Nobody!” Severus shouted. He clenched his fists, squashing the Shrivelfig he was still holding. “This is nobody! Look at me!”

  And he really did. The gaze of his master flickered back to him. “You are hiding something, Severus.”

  “Professor Snape!”

  “No!” His heart was beating frantically, cold sweat blossomed on his face. This was not supposed to happen, he couldn't … No! He would not return there! Where …

  No!

  “Severus?”

  “Professor Snape!”

  Severus was panting so heavily that he got dizzy. Blood pounded in his ears. He dropped the knife and the fig and pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead, trying to hold onto all of this but the lab dissolved around him. “NO!” he screamed but it was too late.

  The lab was gone.

  Master Dendron was gone.

  He was back in this ruddy shack on these damn cliffs in the middle of the bloody Atlantic Ocean. “No …” he breathed.

  The returning pain hit him like a kicking hippogriff. He gasped, tears welling up in his eyes, he felt sick. He bit his tongue until he tasted blood. His muscles twitched uncontrollably.

  He wasn't even able to discern what hurt the most. Was it his back that had to be littered with burst bruises? Or his face that was so swollen his eyes were only two small slits? Or his buttock, that -

  No!

  He pinched his eyes closed.

  It was his arms. His arms hurt the most. 

  They were tied with heavy iron manacles to force him to stand up. But he had long stopped doing so. His legs had given way somewhen. Now his whole body weight rested on his wrists and shoulders. Maybe a joint or two had dislocated since he'd last checked.

  “Professor Snape!”

  The voice was cutting through the frantic beating of his heart. He knew that voice. From … He knew it.

  Severus blinked as much as he was able to. His vision was blurred but something moved in front of him.

  “Look at me!”

  He blinked once again. Slowly his vision cleared, and a wild curly head crystallised. He stared at her. For long seconds. She. “Miss Granger,” he slurred. His voice sounded strange in his ears, his face was swollen so badly he wasn't able to articulate the words properly. His cheek burned. Had she slapped him?

  She nodded, apparently pleased. “Nice to know all of this is worth it. Stand up! We're in a hurry.”

  Severus snorted. Pain shot through him like an electric shock. He held his breath until it subsided. Cleared his throat. But it became a cough that threatened to rip his body apart. He could barely catch his breath, and instantly coughed again, wet and rattling. Hot pain pulsed through every fibre of his body, his head throbbed, the shack around him was swaying.

  “Stand up!” Miss Granger said.

  Several pops outside the shack. They weren't alone anymore. The wards Lucius had set up around the shack had alarmed the Death Eaters.

  “I can't,” Severus panted, and yet he forced his legs to carry his weight. He had to try, right? He coughed again, mucous rose in his throat. He spat it out just as his legs gave way under him. The chains jangled when he fell into them again. He screamed. Now he definitely had dislocated his shoulder.

  The next moment, the chains disappeared. He crashed to the ground – and actually fainted.

  But only briefly because Granger slapped his already maltreated face once again. “Professor Snape! We don't have time for that!”

  He felt her turning him around brusquely and blurrily saw her hurling some old furniture at the open door with her wand. That wouldn't stop the Death Eaters for long.

  Long enough, though, for her to grope through the bag dangling on her shoulder. She pulled a small glass vial out and unstoppered it with her teeth. “Open your mouth!” she ordered and because Severus really didn't care anymore whether the content of this vial would help him or kill him he obeyed.

  The potion tasted sweet and buttery. He almost choked on it, the larger part of it running down his face. But the pain subsided, his mind got a little clearer.

  “And now stand up!” She roughly grabbed his upper arm.

  Severus wheezed. This pain was even breaking through the pain-relief potion. 

  She let go of him and he fell to the hard stone floor. His fingers, searching for purchase, swept through what his lungs had produced earlier. Mucous. Blood. He grimaced. 

  Several Curses crashed into the rotten wood behind him and four Death Eaters stormed into the shack. He only saw a tangle of legs and focused on somehow getting onto his own. His heart fluttered.

  “Stupefy!” he heard Granger scream and the muffled groan told him they had only three opponents left. “Petrificus totalus!” she added another Curse but Severus wasn't able to tell whether it hit. “Protego!” she finally gasped and he saw several curses rebound back from the shield onto their opponents.

  “Miss Granger,” Severus said faintly and actually got her attention. Her bushy hair whirled through the air when she turned around.

  “What?”

  “Use … Murus …”

  “Murus!” she – to his surprise – decided to bellow without further questions. Severus watched the Protego being replaced by a sturdy wall, stretching from the floor up to the ceiling, dividing the shack into two parts. Granger nodded in the sudden quietness. “Not bad …”

  He sat up although he instantly got dizzy again. He supported himself on the ground. For a moment, his heartbeat was so loud he wasn't able to hear anything else. Then his muscles gave up and he slumped back to the ground.

  Granger turned away from the wall. “How long will it last?” she asked while she cast a diagnostic charm on him. Brightly glowing words appeared above his body, a lot of brightly glowing words – too much to read them all right now. Her gaze hopped over the first lines before she peeled his raddled clothes from his body, healing some injuries here and there.

  “A few minutes,” he mumbled, and although his breathing eased he fought against falling unconscious again. Apparently, oxygen had not been the problem. 

  Granger seemed to notice his struggle since she slapped him again. “You will not lose conscience now, do you hear me?” she shouted, grasped his chin and forced him to look at her. “And now keep still!” She grabbed his left arm, this time a little bit more gentle. But this gentleness didn't last long. She set a foot into his armpit and just a millisecond before the blood-curdling crack ripped through his body Severus realised what she was about to do.

  It was obscene how much it hurt despite the pain-relief potion. Stars danced in front of his eyes, he tasted bile on his tongue. For a moment, he was convinced he would black out at last.

  But then the pain subsided and he was able to use his arm again – thanks to the potion.

  He wriggled out of her grasp and used what strength he had left to push up to her. “Mind how you are talking to me, Miss Granger!”

  A smug smile appeared on her lips. “Not if it keeps you conscious, sir …” The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared and left a mask of indifference. 

  Severus sank back to the ground. She had changed since he had last seen her. A lot. Although their last encounter had barely been two years ago. Or had it been longer?

  Didn't matter. 

  Approximately a year before the death of the Dark Lord Albus had admitted Hermione Granger to the Order, the last of the trio. He had urged Severus to work with her on some potions. Potions that had helped to kill the Dark Lord. She had hated herself for it afterwards. Herself and certainly him as well because these potions may have killed the Dark Lord - but they also killed Harry Potter.

  He didn't have an opportunity to talk to her again, though. Lucius Malfoy had succeeded the Dark Lord and he had long before suspected Severus to not be their spy in the Order, but Dumbledores spy among the Death Eaters. He had forbidden him to return to the Order. 

  Not that it had stopped Severus from trying. 

  There had been sporadic messages sent to Albus. But it had been a one-sided communication and so each of his contacts to members of the Order – and Hermione Granger – had been cut. 

  Back then, before everything had gone so horrendously wrong, they had managed to establish an almost peaceful tone with each other. Apparently, that had changed since then – and Harry Potter's death was certainly complicit to it.

  Severus watched her pacing in front of the wall, preparing to give their opponents a proper reception. At least she did so until their eyes met and she didn't look away again. On her forehead, right beneath her hairline, was a long, still-red scar. It couldn't be old. Her gaze was hard, her face blank. And she looked at him as if she saw him for the first time. The seconds stretched peculiarly until she eventually blinked.

  Just as the wall began to dissolve. “Watch out!” Severus panted when he saw one of the attackers lift his wand. But his warning came too late.

  Granger screamed, being hit in the sternum by a white lightning bolt, and was hurled against the back wall of the shack. She crashed onto the debris on the ground and gasped, her wand slipping from her hand. Severus ducked from a curse and grabbed it before it could get out of his reach. 

  He lifted his gaze with an effort and found himself face to face with two Death Eaters. Macnair, Mulciber. He grinned as far as his swollen face let him and pointed the unfamiliar wand at them. “Avada kedavra!” And as faintly as his voice may have sounded, the intention behind this curse came from his mind – the only part of him he was still in control of. The curse unfurled his power in a green lightning bolt and hit Macnair straight in the chest. With a dull crash, the massive body tumbled to the ground. 

  The next thing he knew, Granger tore her wand from his hand. “Stupefy!” she shouted and Mulciber was finally incapacitated as well. She whirled around to face him. “Don't use my wand ever again!” she hissed while she supported herself on her knee. 

  “I wouldn't have had to do it … if your backup wasn't so …” Severus groaned. “… so dreadfully faint-hearted,” he pressed out and tried to get up.

  Granger snorted. “There is no backup, professor!” She reached for his arm to pull him to his feet. “That's why we should hurry to get away from here lest more of your former friends come around.” She mercilessly dragged him to the door.

  Stumbling and swaying they left the inside of the shack that was warded with an Anti-Apparition Jinx and Granger put his right arm around her shoulder (he sensed her faltering and saw her gnawing at her lower lip) while more Death Eater Apparated around them. “Tough luck, guys!” she said with a smug grin and Severus felt her Disapparating with him.

  They both stumbled when they appeared at their destination. Severus pinched his eyes closed against the bright sunlight and he lost his balance, staggering around blindly.

  Granger's grip hardened. “Get a grip, professor!” she said and he opened his eyes just to cast her a furious glance. 

  “Guard your tongue, Miss Granger!”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Apparently, you aren't that unwell.”

  Severus snorted derisively which made him cough again. His chest was crackling. “Couldn't be any better,” he mumbled when he was to some extent in control of his coughing again. Ugh, he felt so awfully hot.

  “As long as you are well enough to be sarcastic it can't be -” Granger stopped abruptly and didn't finish her sentence. She doubled over and supported herself on her knees again.

  Severus swayed. “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” she panted and straightened up, drawing his arm tighter around her shoulders. He regarded her sceptically. Maybe she got injured when falling. But black lines were building on the edge of his vision.

  “We should hurry up,” he mumbled, “I will black out soon …”

  “Poor timing,” she groaned and got moving again.

  Severus opened his eyes a fraction. With every step, something jumped before his eyes that he only belatedly recognized as a house. None he knew. It stuck in the green landscape like a brown stain. He couldn't see anything else around them, only the house. What were they doing here? His stomach turned, his vision blurred.

  Granger looked back over her shoulder. “I should have aimed better,” she whispered frantically and hurried him along.

  Severus knew what she meant. The Death Eaters could follow his trace. Although Lucius had gone to great lengths to burn the Mark from his arm, it bound him to these people more than he had ever imagined. He was marked and would always be.

  A groan tore him from his musings. “What is it?” he asked again, more insistently this time. If she'd collapse soon he wanted to know.

  “It's none of your business!” she hissed and didn't even bother looking at him. “Just hurry up!”

  Severus braced himself on a wooden fence that suddenly appeared in his field of vision. The wood bore into his palm and swayed under his weight.

  The next thing he noticed was a curse sizzling by his left ear, hitting the front wall of the house. Granger faltered for a split second. “Bugger!”

  She didn't bother supporting him any longer after that and instead dragged him along mercilessly so they more stumbling than walking reached the door. Granger pushed him inside and blocked some curses over her shoulder but just as she wanted to follow him another one hit her leg. Her scream echoed in the hall.

  From the ground, he saw her slumping and pulled her body across the threshold to be able to close the door behind her. “Stop it!” was her way of thanking him.

  She struggled to her feet, turned a key in the lock, and leaned against the door heavily, a wound on her leg bleeding heavily. She wielded her wand through the air; Severus recognised some runes. Then she tapped the doorknob twice. She groaned again, doubling over, and clawed her hand around her wand while she steadied herself on her knee with the other. 

  “No, no, no …” she whimpered. She snuffled and wiped her hand across her nose. Her hand was trembling.

  “Miss Granger, what -”

  “Shut up!” she screamed so vigorously he flinched. 

  Several curses hit the outer wall, but one struck a window and the pane exploded. Shards of glass darted through the hall, Severus lifted an arm to shield his eyes.

  Granger turned back to the door and said, “Initium!” The knob glowed red. Then the light spread like an orb and expanded through the walls. Severus heard the Death Eaters scream out when they got hurled away from the door and tumbled to the gravel in front of the house.

  Shortly after the light had vanished through the walls it got completely quiet in the house. Only his panting and Granger's were audible. He fixed his gaze on her tired, agonized face. His vision blurred and the black lines returned. “Great performance, Miss Granger,” he slurred and finally blacked out.

Chapter Text

  Not much time could have passed when Granger woke him. Brutally. A singing house-elf would have been more considerate than what she did with her wand and it didn't do his throbbing head any good. “Somebody should take that thing away from you,” he mumbled and paid his gibe with a coughing fit that made him scrunch up his nose. His chest was still crackling.

  But he wasn't lying on the floor in the hall anymore. He was lying in a bed. He blinked. The room this bed was standing in was dimmed so perhaps Granger had a little bit of sympathy for him after all. 

  “I'm delighted to welcome you back amongst the living,” she said, sounding everything but. She sat opposite him at a little table, her legs crossed, and observed him. 

  Severus sat up. Or rather he tried until his body reminded him of the dreadful state it was in. He wasn't even able to stifle a cry before he sank back, clenching his eyes against the spinning room.

  Granger looked at him indifferently. “You should stay down, sir.”

  “Really?” he asked hollowly.

  “So far I've only been able to heal the fractures and skin damage … at least most of them, some wounds still need time to heal. For your other issues, I need you awake.”

  “Well, you accomplished as much,” he growled and ran his hand across his face. It actually felt like his face again and not like the shapeless mess Mulciber, Rookwood and a few barely grown-ups he didn't know had made of it. Other parts of his body, however, weren't as healed as his face, although he was in considerably less pain than before. “What will you do?” he turned back to Granger.

  “I won't do anything for now. It's your turn. First, you will take the potion standing at the far left on your bedside table.”

  Severus craned his neck and narrowed his eyes until his vision cleared. Three vials were standing on said bedside table. He wasn't able to distinguish any colours in the darkness of the room so he reached out for the first vial, pulled the stopper from its neck and sniffed it. “Blood-Replenishing Potion,” he mumbled.

  “Bully for you.”

  Severus's eyebrows twitched but he didn't look at her. What the hell had happened to her during those last two years? He had to find out. Later. Now he only put the glass vial to his lips and downed the potion in one gulp. It tasted like metal, a little bit salty, and its effect was quickly noticeable. The dizziness subsided, the headache lessened, his pulse wasn't as fluttery anymore.

  “Well then?” he asked.

  “The next potion in the line.”

  He put the empty vial away and grasped the next. He uncorked it as well to sniff at it. And growled. “You were a bit generous with the pepper, Miss Granger.”

  She shrugged. “This will most likely be the only opportunity to ever see you with steaming ears, sir. I want to savour it.”

  He turned his head to look at her. An unsympathetic smile was curving her pale lips. He lowered his eyes and emptied the vial with the Pepperup Potion as well. The headache vanished, he could breathe more easily and didn't feel as overheated anymore. But the aforementioned steam gushed from his ears as well. “Are you happy now?” he asked.

  “Very much so.” She smirked.

  This time he didn't ask before he reached for the last vial. It contained more of the pain-relief potion she'd already poured down his throat in the shack. “Do you think this will solve my problems?”

  “No. But it will enable you to prepare for the last potion.”

  Severus rolled his eyes and emptied this vial as well but not without raising it to her beforehand. As he sat up now his body didn't protest. The thin blanket slipped onto his lap, causing him to shiver. She'd forgotten to dress him after the healing.

  His gaze wandered through the room. It had a spartan interior. A wardrobe, next to it the table she was sitting at, two chairs. On the other side, the bed and the bedside table. A small shelf beside the door to his right. Worn-down curtains hid the window on the left side of the room. Opposite him was a door, presumably leading to the bathroom.

  “How are you, Miss Granger?” he asked when his gaze returned to her. She had been injured during their flight as well.

  “Splendid,” she said, her face remaining blank.

  “Well, that makes two of us.” He coughed and his chest hurt despite the pain-relief potion.

  “No, you are still a wreck. Your spleen is bleeding, your liver is bleeding, your lungs are injured because of the fractured ribs I already healed … That's pretty much the opposite of splendid.”

  “Anything else?” he snarled.

  “Some of your wounds need longer treatment as I said. Everything else … I already healed.” Her voice softened peculiarly when she uttered that last sentence and for the first time, her gaze held something else than indifference. For the first time since their last encounter two years ago, sympathy flickered through the light brown of her eyes.

  Everything else … Everything. Severus gulped and lowered his gaze. His heart was pounding when he felt like it was happening again. No. No, no, no. No! He pinched the bridge of his nose, forced back the pictures that were threatening to overwhelm him. “Where did you learn all of this?” he asked and damn! His voice sounded … strange. He cleared his throat.

  “I trained as a healer with Madam Pomfrey.”

  “Within two years?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “One and a half.” She slightly lifted her chin. “Due to the circumstances, I was allowed to take the exams earlier. After all, I had enough practical experience.”

  “Well?”

  “Top of the class.”

  Severus snorted. “Of course.”

  Granger stood. “Put on your pyjamas while I get you some food”, she said and pointed at the black pile of fabric at the end of his bed. 

  “I'm not hungry.”

  She stopped at the door and looked at him. “Your decision. I suppose you know the potions used for healing internal injuries?”

  Severus closed his eyes. Of course, he knew them. He had to choose between slow and painful or quick and nauseating. Thinking about the second option alone made his stomach clench. “Yes, I know them,” he said hollowly.

  “So, which one do you choose?”

  He didn't look at her. “I prefer half an hour of nausea over twelve hours of pain.”

  “Yes, I thought so.” She sounded bored. “So … do you want to eat something beforehand?”

  Severus nodded and heard her leave. Silence filled the room. But not his mind. Screams, his own … pain … Crucio … and then … 

  No!

  Severus took a deep breath and emptied his mind. He would not return there.

  He stood up, his legs trembling like a leaf, and did as Granger had told him: He dressed. And hoped that his bloody ears would stop steaming soon!

  The soup Granger served him was strong and nutritious. His stomach grumbled as soon as he smelled it. He sat across from her at the table. A pile of parchments lay in front of her and she ignored him. Severus craned his neck but her script was still so small he couldn't decipher anything. Well, it would hardly be her diary.

  When he had satisfied his biggest hunger he ate more slowly and regarded her. She sat a little bit hunched, perhaps the remainder of her injuries she refused to talk about. Whatever trauma she had sustained with it, it obviously wasn't as easily healed.

  “Stop watching me,” she said just then without looking up at him.

  “I have no other choice since you won't talk to me.”

  She raised her gaze. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “This, for a start.” He gestured around the room. “What are we doing here? How long will we stay here? And what is the plan?” The trembling spoon hovered over his dish. When Granger looked at it he put it away.

  “The plan is that we are here. I don't know for how long. There are some parlour games, a lot of books and a lab in the basement you will certainly be interested in as soon as you've recovered.” Then she dropped her gaze back onto her parchment and resumed writing.

  A muscle beneath his eye twitched. “Do we speak of days or weeks?”

  “Huh?” She frowned.

  “The length of our stay!” he said impatiently.

  “Oh. Months, more likely,” she replied indifferently.

  Severus closed his eyes. Months. In this house. Alone with her. With this version of her. “This was Albus's idea, wasn't it?”

  “Of course.”

  “Tell me more,” he demanded.

  Granger sighed and put her quill down. “The charms I activated yesterday completely seal off this house and the garden surrounding it from reality. There's no way in and no way out as long as the charms aren't broken. Only Professor Dumbledore is able to break it and he will only do it when all of the Death Eaters are dead or imprisoned.”

  “That can easily take years!”

  “You better pray it won't,” she replied in a dry voice and turned back to her parchments.

  He rubbed his temple, his appetite completely vanished. “What does Albus intend with this?”

  Now she actually groaned and tilted her head back. Her hair slipped from her face and revealed the scar he'd already noticed in the shack. It was right at her hairline, dividing her curls from her face. His gaze darted back to her eyes when she said, “He thought it best. You are targeted by the Death Eaters and almost impossible to hide. Here you are safe without him having to worry about you all the time. He wanted to get you out of the way so the Order can act more freely.”

  “The Death Eaters know where I am. They followed us here. Lucius will find a way in.” And if it was the last thing he'd do.

  “Among the charms I activated yesterday was a Fidelius Charm. Besides Professor Dumbledore nobody knows where we are now.”

  Severus frowned. So, Albus had got him out of the way. He could understand that. But Granger? “And why are you here?” he therefore asked.

  “Because I was stupid enough to accept the order.” The annoyance tinting her voice made him speechless for a second.

  “What did I do to you, Miss Granger?”

  She pursed her lips. “Don't be ridiculous,” she said faintly and averted her gaze.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “We haven't seen each other for more than two years. How can you believe you had the power to hurt me?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Well, something did hurt you …”

  She narrowed her eyes. “As if you care.” She stood and propped herself up on the table so vigorously it trembled. “Let's keep our distance and our conversations professional, at least that's honest,” she added. 

  Severus watched her while she fetched a little vial from the shelf and swayed the content until it was thoroughly mixed. “Down it! The sooner we start, the sooner we're finished.”

  Without waiting for his answer she turned and headed to the door next to the table. Severus leaned over and caught a glance of the room behind it. He saw the curve of a sink. So it was a bathroom.

  He got up, taking a sip of the potion, and returned to the bed. It wasn't his first encounter with this potion; usually, there wasn't much keeping him upright anymore after the nausea subsided. He preferred not falling from his chair then. 

  Granger returned to him with a bucket, put it on the floor and took another vial from her pocket that she emptied herself. Severus had just swallowed the last of his potion and watched her with a frown. Then he grimaced and put his empty vial on the bedside table. “Thank you, you are dismissed,” he said and steeled himself for the nausea that was about to come.

  Granger snorted. “Absolutely not. I wouldn't even let you take aspirin unattended in the state you're in, let alone this stuff!”

  He looked at her confused. “Aspirin?”

  She waved her hand. “Never mind. What I mean is, I will stay.”

  “You will not!” He would not throw up in front of her! That she had healed his wounds … all of his wounds … was bad enough as it was. He would not humiliate himself even more in front of her.

  “I will! Don't make such a fuss, Harry and Ron survived it as well.” Her gaze flickered.

  Severus groaned. It was as if something was moving inside of his stomach. The potion kicked in. “Please leave me alone, Miss Granger!” He pressed his hand onto his abdomen as if he could still what was rumbling in there. As if he could prevent what was about to happen.

  “No,” she said and held the bucket in front of his face. She was standing right beside him.

  So close.

  Severus grabbed the bucket and turned away from her although the edge of his bed didn't give him much space. His stomach turned and as much as he tried, he couldn't control it. He lowered his face into the bucket as deep as he was able to when he was overcome by intense nausea; if she was about to hear and smell what this potion was doing to him he could at least keep her from seeing it.

  For several minutes he was barely able to breathe because he was retching so fervently. His stomach, his chest … it was as if snakes were coiling in it. Soon his throat started burning, soon his forehead was covered in sweat. His stomach was long empty but this sensation as if somebody was digging through his bowels refused to lessen. 

  “Evanesco! Remember to breathe, sir!” she said beside him. Still so close. The only good thing about her being here was she emptied the bucket again and again.

  He struggled for air when his stomach clenched once more. This sensation, throwing up with an empty stomach … It brought back memories he didn't want to remember. And a pain that was long gone. He tried to empty his mind but he wasn't able to focus. The reality was tilting, slowly slipping away from him and -

  No!

  Master Dendron, he thought, Master Dendron, the lab, the potion. He repeated these six words in his mind like a mantra.  Master Dendron, the lab, the potion. He clung to it like a drowning man to a plank. Master Dendron. The lab. The potion.

  Ten minutes later he sat on his bed, clinging to the bucket. Bouts of nausea and feeble retching still washed over him every now and then although he was hardly able to sit upright anymore. It had never been that bad. That long, that agonising. He wished for it to finally stop. When he almost toppled from the bed Granger quickly grabbed his shoulder to support him.

  “No!” he cried hoarsely and yanked his arm away.

  She startled and took a step back, raising her hands in the air. “I won't hurt you.”

  Severus briefly closed his eyes, then he looked back up at her. She was quite pale herself. “Need one as well?” he asked since his stomach was finally quiet for a moment and reached out the bucket to her.

  “Thank you but that is entirely yours,” she said when he started heaving again. 

  An eternity later Granger pushed him back onto the bed. Severus let it happen, completely drained. “That should be it,” she said flatly. “I dosed the potion a bit higher than usual.”

  He closed his eyes, tears burning behind his lids. “Minx,” he breathed.

  “You'd have done the same,” she countered while she drew a blanket over his trembling body.

  “Miss Granger?”

  She reluctantly turned to him.

  “I would have not.”

  She swallowed. For the first time, he had the impression that something he had said had really reached her. She averted her eyes and tugged on the blanket that was long evened out. “Sleep,” she whispered.

  Severus sighed and closed his eyes. He heard her opening the window and her steps walking past his bed. Then his thoughts frayed and he sank into merciful nothingness.

  The next morning, he was still a bit stiff-legged when entered the kitchen. It was directly across the stairs he came down from the first floor. His muscles were still aching but he had no regard for it. 

  He'd found clothes in the wardrobe. Not his own but similar. All of them were approximately two sizes too big. He'd lost a lot of weight in the last few months.

  On the inside of the wardrobe door was a mirror. Severus had avoided looking at himself, both before taking a shower and after it. It had been a long time being at the mercy of the Death Eaters; a lot of injuries had healed by themselves and had left gruesome scars. Besides his back, his left forearm was affected the worst. Lucius had tried to burn the Dark Mark from his skin. It was deeply scarred, distorted, numb. And yet the Dark Mark was still faintly visible. Miraculously his tendons hadn't been injured and his hand was still functioning.

  On some of the other wounds, Granger's healing only had had a limited effect because they were days or even weeks old, deep and inflamed. Only a thin layer of skin had grown on them. He didn't want to see anything of it more clearly than strictly necessary. 

  Granger sat on a bench at the table, her legs bent, her feet on the seating surface and her back leaned against the wall. She held an apple that was missing a bite in her left hand and a book she was reading in her right and kept on ignoring him when he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across from her. 

  “How are you?” he asked hoarsely and cleared his throat. The happenings of the past evening hadn't done him any good. 

  She shoved another vial across the table without a word. Severus was sick of the sight of them but still took it, sniffed at the content and decided it would help his throat. He grimaced when he downed the potion with two gulps. He despised camomile.

  Putting the vial back on the table louder than necessary, he repeated, “How are you, Miss Granger?” Ah, yes, now he sounded like himself again.

  But the effect wasn't the same anymore. Granger sighed, kept chewing on her apple and allowed herself plenty of time until she answered, “Splendid.”

  Severus cracked his knuckles. “I think I remember you using a wider repertoire of answers a few years ago.”

  “Not for the same question.”

  He leaned back and crossed his arms. He was just taking a deep breath to reply - and it wouldn't have been a nice one -, but then he noticed the golden wedding band on her left hand. It glistened in the morning sun when she turned a page. 

  Severus blinked. Granger had been in a relationship with Ronald Weasley since she finished school, a choice Severus had never really been able to understand. Potter, yes, that he would've understood; he had been famous and all. But Weasley? He was not fit to hold a candle to her, neither intellectually nor emotionally. Of course, he was a loyal friend. Potter had never been in trouble without Weasley. But he rarely was able to put himself in somebody else's shoes and even less to understand without somebody feeding him what he would have been able to figure out by himself if he were a little less egocentric. Two years ago, Granger had been an open book and yet Weasley hadn't been able to read her. Severus didn't understand why that was okay for her.

  “When did you get married?” he asked with a second's delay and completely differing from his original plan. 

  Granger looked at him strangely and put her apple down before she answered. “Almost two years ago.”

  “And you didn't invite me? I'm disappointed,” he commented in a dry voice, raising an eyebrow.

  “I'd have loved to have you there but unfortunately you didn't leave an address before you escaped.”

  The irony disappeared within two seconds. “I did not escape and I could not leave an address.”

  The restructuring of the Death Eaters had started merely two hours after the death of the Dark Lord and it had been a top priority for him to keep his cover. He'd invested too much, sacrificed too much to destroy this cancer of the Wizarding World to stop at that point.

  But it had been bitter nonetheless. He'd actually believed it would end after the death of the Dark Lord. That he would finally have made up for the wrongs he'd done and that he'd be free to go wherever he wanted to go, to do whatever he wanted to do. 

  Well, he did go. And then he noticed he'd rather have stayed. 

  That had not been his only misapprehension. He'd also thought Lucius was somehow favourable to him. He'd thought they were on good terms with each other. In the last year serving the Dark Lord, Severus had had the impression, that Lucius had not been that happy anymore. “I wasn't happy with the Dark Lord's decisions,” Lucius had told him eventually. “He focused too hard on the Potter boy and lost sight of the bigger goal. That won't happen to me. So, Severus … Are you in on it?”

  Of course, he had been in on it. But Lucius had been different than the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord hadn't been interested in how his minions had behaved. He'd looked into their minds and as long as he, the self-proclaimed best Legilimens of all times, hadn't found anything suspicious he'd been satisfied. 

  Lucius demanded more to gain his trust. More than Severus had been able to give. He'd gone to great lengths to question Severus's loyalty. For a long time, Severus had been able to dissipate his doubts although he'd used … unconventional methods. But then he'd been down on his luck.

  “Then don't complain,” Granger's voice tore him from the past, “that you didn't get an invitation.”

  “So, do I have to call you 'Mrs Weasley' now, Miss Granger?” he asked silkily. 

  He thought he saw something flicker in her eyes but she got a hold of herself quickly. “Leave it at Miss Granger, you abused that name often enough.”

  Severus narrowed his eyes. “You don't look like a happily married woman.”

  “It is war. And I'm stuck here. If I remember correctly, you've never looked as if you'd particularly enjoy your job either.”

  “I didn't.”

  “And still you continued doing it.”

  “I didn't have a choice.”

  “And that's precisely why I'm here. Without my husband.” When he remained quiet after this statement Granger rose and put her used dishes into the sink. An eager washing-up brush instantly started scrubbing the china, jangling and gurgling softly. “In case you haven't noticed already: In your wardrobe is also a case with personal things Albus has fetched for you.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “No, I did not look into it,” she said and rolled her eyes. “Eat! It will do you good.”

  “You don't say,” he replied curtly but she didn't react. Only seconds later he sat in the kitchen all by himself and drew his fingers through his hair. Today, she wasn't an open book anymore.

Chapter Text

  Severus opened one cupboard after the other and behind each of them, he either found food or crockery or both. And each of them he slammed shut again. 

  He closed his eyes, steadying himself on the worktop with one hand and pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. He didn't want to eat. The healing potion Granger had tormented him with yesterday was still bothering him. More than once Poppy had told him how unusually sensitive he reacted to it – not that he had wanted to know. 

  And Granger had dosed the potion even higher than usual! He groaned. Did she even have the faintest idea of what she had done to him?

  But he had to eat something, she was right about that. He felt weak and shaky, in the past months he'd only been provided with the minimum of food and water, just about enough to survive. And the last night had not improved his nutritional condition.

  His mouth pinched, he returned to the cupboard he'd seen some toast in. He took a slice from the bag and looked around. There were no Muggle appliances here, no toaster. And he didn't have a wand anymore, Lucius had broken it when he'd taken him captive. Disgruntled he looked at the white, sloppy slice of bread. Well, toasted, not toasted, same difference, he thought.

  Much more interesting was what Granger had mentioned yesterday: the lab. Severus decided to take a look at it soon while he was slowly eating the soft slice of bread. Maybe he could brew a soothing potion or two for himself; he was sick of her never missing a chance to shove an unlabelled potion his way. And he missed standing at the cauldron.

  Since Lucius had taken command over the Death Eaters, Severus had rarely had the opportunity to work in the lab. For the Dark Lord, he had had to brew some potions every now and then, especially Veritaserum and several poisons. Lucius, however, approached things differently. He was a wand wizard. He preferred to torture his captives to get them to talk. The Dark Lord had tortured, too, but he'd always lost his patience quickly and usually resorted to more effective methods lest he accidentally killed someone he still needed. Lucius had no such problems, he took his time. 

  And if it took him months … 

  Severus blinked and tore himself from his thoughts. Where had he been? Ah, yes, he hadn't worked in a lab for a long time.

  And yet, he had done almost nothing but that throughout all of the past months.

  The lab had been his sanctuary since he'd been standing behind a cauldron for the very first time. Everything there was planned, predictable, organised, beautiful. And so it was only natural that it had been his sanctuary in the last months as well. He'd been hiding in this imagination so deeply and for so long that he missed it now, especially the company of Master Dendron, his former mentor. Somehow, reality felt unreal. As if he was imagining now and not in the past months. He looked down at the toast in his hand. Well … Maybe he'd be able to ease this feeling a little by spending some time in the lab here. 

  But for now, he returned to his room and looked for the case with personal items Granger had mentioned. He found it at the bottom of the wardrobe at the very back. It was a small case, approximately the size of a cigar box. Severus put it on the table and slid the cover from it. Then he huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Albus had shrunk all of his things to fit them into the small box. “Had that really been necessary?” Severus groaned.

  For a moment, he stood in front of the table motionlessly. He was disinclined to ask Granger for her wand. But if he wanted to be able to use his stuff he had no other choice.

  Severus straightened and clenched his teeth when the insufficiently healed wounds sent a jolt of pain through his back. Damn it! Then he went searching for Granger.

  He found her in the parlour. This time, she sat with her book on the settee, and again, she ignored him when he stepped into the room. 

  Severus cleared his throat. 

  She raised her eyebrows and looked up at him reluctantly, saying nothing. 

  “May I borrow your wand for a second?” He practically had to beat the words out of his mouth. They tasted very bitter.

  “What for?”

  Severus cracked his knuckles. “Albus has been so prudent to shrink my personal things. I would like to reverse that.”

  She actually rolled her eyes! Severus clenched his teeth even harder. But then she drew her wand from her sleeve and handed it to him. “In the pantry below the stairs, you can place orders. Just put a note on the table.”

  “Thank you,” he said annoyed but she just waved her hand impatiently and had already returned to her book. 

  Severus pivoted on the spot and left the parlour lest he gave in to the temptation to turn her book into a nest of spiders.

  A few minutes later he emptied the box and lined up the content on the table. He weighed Granger's wand in his hand. It was a little shorter and from a lighter wood than his own and even though he clearly sensed her wand wouldn't obey him willingly, he was yet absolutely sure it still would. 

  Severus swung the wand through the air and reversed the shrinking Charm. Then he slipped it into his own sleeve out of habit and looked at the things more closely. 

  First, he reached for a bottle of red wine that was slowly rolling towards the edge of the table. It was one of the bottles he'd had to leave behind at Hogwarts two years ago. He put it aside. A pile of his favourite books had been in the box as well, along with the notebook he'd used for all the little thoughts and ideas about his potions. Albus must have been in his house to fetch those things. Severus wasn't sure what to think about it. 

  Additionally, he found a jar of ink and several quills, his watch and the magically preserved leaf of a willow that reminded him of his first autumn at Hogwarts. He used it as a bookmark. 

  And at last his little Pensieve. A few memories, neither liquid nor gas, were floating in it. Severus had had to dispense of some memories because he'd had to keep the Dark Lord from finding them in his mind. But the Dark Lord was no more. Nobody forced him to dispense of memories now. Maybe he would put them back into his mind. Maybe. It seemed like he would have enough time to think about it when he felt better. 

  It wasn't that much that was finally laid out neatly on the table. But it was almost everything important to him. Only another personal notebook was missing and he would find a replacement for that. As he always did. In the past twenty years, he'd reduced his life, bit by bit, had learned not to cling to anything. He himself, as he really was, with all of his convictions, wishes, and interests, hadn't had any space in the life he'd sworn to lead. 

  Severus stowed away all of the things. Put the books onto the shelf and his notebook and the bookmark into the top drawer of his bedside table, tied his watch around his right wrist. When the table was clear, he turned away and went looking for the lab. On his way there he could also return Granger's wand to her and place an order for a new one in the pantry.

  It wasn't hard finding the door leading to the lab in a house the size of this. He was pleased it was located in the basement; everything else would have been out of the question, a lot of ingredients needed absolute darkness to not decay prematurely, not to mention the lower temperature. He roamed around the tables and the equipment, inspected the stock of cauldrons and ingredients. All in all, it was tolerable.

  Severus took one of the cauldrons and fetched the ingredients he needed to brew a potion for his nausea. For almost fifteen minutes he immersed himself in preparing the ingredients, savouring the sensation of the sharp knife slipping through the ginger and the pounder grinding the caraway. Savouring it although his hand started trembling. Savouring it because it eased the tension in his shoulders and calmed his mind.

  Enough to bring back a memory dating back to what felt like an eternity ago. He had been working with Granger in the lab – much to Weasley's dismay. With a brief glance in his mind, Severus had seen how much he loathed it that Granger spent more time with him, Severus, than with him, her partner. The only thing Weasley had hated more had been the fact that she didn't even seem to mind. 

  On this evening, he had tried to lure her out of the lab while Severus had been in the storage room. Severus hadn't even tried to not overhear them. After all, he hadn't forced them to talk in his vicinity.

  “You could … you know, just prepare that stuff magically …”

  Granger's groan had silenced him. “Did you never pay any attention in class? Magic changes the properties of the ingredients, Ron. It could ruin everything.”

  Their further talking had been so quiet that Severus hadn't been able to understand anything. Weasley had left shortly after and he himself had returned to his work area. His gaze had locked with Granger's. “One word and I'll follow him,” she'd muttered.

  He'd just shaken his head. Like hell he would meddle with her love life!

  But he'd been extremely satisfied she took correctly preparing the ingredients seriously. In the art of potions, a wand was hardly ever used and he'd never relished this fact as much as he did at this moment that he didn't possess one. He simply didn't need one to brew a potion for his nausea. And being trapped in this house, he'd probably use the new wand he'd hopefully get soon more out of sheer laziness than necessity anyway. Although … considering how Granger was acting so far he wouldn't stake his life on it. But right now he didn't need it.

  And then he had to light the fire. With matchsticks.

  He laboured with it for approximately ten minutes, his stiff fingers refusing to do it right, and was already on the brink of tossing them in the bin (and the cauldron right behind) when he finally succeeded. Severus briefly closed his eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He didn't need a bloody wand!

  When he reopened his eyes the lab was swaying, though. He pulled the stool from under the workbench and sat down. He was sweating and now it wasn't only his hands that were trembling. Severus huffed. He could discipline his mind like no one else. Could push emotions and memories away and lock them so deeply even he sometimes had difficulty finding them again. 

  But his body … 

  The body was hard to control. He was able to endure pain for a long time, tiredness and exhaustion weren't that big of a problem either. More than once he'd driven his body to its limits, sometimes even beyond. One of the reasons he was still alive. But apparently, his body was only able to endure this so far.

  “Why don't you take one of the prepared potions?”

  Severus flinched and found Granger standing behind him in the doorway. “It is not about the potion,” he replied.

  “But?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “As if you care.”

  “Touché.” Then her gaze wandered across the lab table and the ingredients he'd already arranged. He could see her drawing her conclusions and when she understood she went to a cupboard in a dark corner of the lab and fetched first one, then another vial. “For nausea, for exhaustion,” she said while she put the vials on the table. She caught his gaze. “You could have told me you're still nauseous.”

  “You didn't seem to mind yesterday.”

  “Yesterday it had been normal and suppressing the nausea would have meddled with the efficacy of the healing potion. Today it isn't normal anymore.”

  Severus hummed faintly and averted his gaze. 

  After a moment of silence, she said, “I'm sorry I dosed the potion higher without your consent.”

  “Are you really?” he growled, “Or are you only sorry because I suffer more from it than you had planned?”

  She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “I didn't know you were sensitive to this potion! Madam Pomfrey did not tell me.”

  Severus narrowed his eyes. “What did Poppy tell you then?”

  “Everything she deemed important.” Granger raised her chin. “And now take these and be grateful that I know about your other medical quirks or else you would have been even worse off.”

  He scrunched his nose. “I will have a serious talk with Poppy about medical confidentiality as soon as we are out of here.”

  She hesitated. “I have been working with her and therefore had access to all of her files just like any other trainee, too. And I'm under medical confidentiality as well.”

  “I am not all patients and Poppy knows that! She has circulated my information without my consent!” he insisted.

  “Because it was necessary! You can hardly criticise her for not sending you an owl to get your consent!”

  Severus averted his gaze. Of course, Granger was right. Actually, Poppy had already dropped a clanger not telling Granger about his sensitivity to this healing potion. But Granger was the last person he'd wanted to know all of this. She was the last person, he'd -

  Clanger?

  Severus lost his train of thought when his mind jumped a few sentences back. Poppy did not make mistakes with her patients. He knew her for thirty years now and she'd never forgotten about an allergy or sensitivity. It was almost eerie how reliable she was regarding this. She might sometimes forget the current date but she never forgot details about her patients. Even less so details of him, he'd simply been her patient for too long. 

  Her files, however … 

  “You don't know about these things from Poppy,” Severus said and looked at Granger.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Poppy would have never forgotten to tell you about this sensitivity. It would have been at the top of her list of aspects you have to know about me.”

  Granger swallowed.

  “You only read my file.” It wasn't a question. “Poppy doesn't rely on her files. She memorises everything important.”

  Now she averted her gaze.

  “Does Poppy even know you informed yourself about me?”

  He saw her clench her teeth. “No,” she said so softly he almost didn't hear her.

  Severus snorted and the raising anger gave him enough strength to stand up and pace through the lab.

  “I wasn't able to question her about you, I only had the file,” Granger added and sounded almost haunted.

  “Really? How hurriedly did Albus cobble this wonderful plan together then?” he asked scathingly.

  She was visibly confused. “He planned for this months ago, I just had to find you.”

  “Then I don't quite understand why you searched through Poppy's files without her knowing instead of asking her. You've hardly been looking for me twenty-four hours a day …”

  “No, I tried to cut it down to twenty when I was on the verge of a breakdown.”

  Severus looked at her befuddled and reluctantly felt his anger subsiding. “Nobody forced you,” he said sullenly. “And Poppy was irresponsible to approve of it.”

  Granger closed her eyes and took a sharp breath. “Madam Pomfrey approved of nothing. Madam Pomfrey is dead.”

  Severus froze mid-movement. He stared at her, her chest was rising and falling rapidly.

  She turned away. “She died a week after I graduated.” He saw her swallowing.

  “How?” he asked in a husky voice.

  “That's not important.”

  “Miss Granger!”

  “A tumour!” She whirled around. “She died of a bloody tumour that could have been easily treated if she hadn't been too stubborn to acknowledge it!” Tears welled in her eyes.

  Severus sighed and briefly pursed his lips. “Stop blaming yourself for Poppy's death, Miss Granger. She knew exactly what she was doing. She'd had tumours several times throughout her life and always got them treated. If she didn't want a treatment this time it has been her decision alone.”

  Granger's eyes widened. For a moment, she seemed to have lost her train of thought as well. But then she got a hold of herself. “There are decisions one shouldn't make alone.” She pointed at the vials again. “Take them and then lay down and rest. The sooner you get back on your feet the better. It's no fun being your healer.” With these words, she turned and headed back up the stairs.

  “Being your patient is no fun either!” Severus shouted after her before he sat back down on the stool with weak knees. Being a patient was no fun!

  Severus left the lab shortly after. Reluctantly. His body keeping him from taking the mental break he craved vexed him. Even taking Granger's Strengthening Solution into the equation, it would take him several days to get well again. Maybe he could make use of his imagination until then. 

  When he closed the door leading to the basement and turned around, he noticed a little piece of parchment sticking to the mirror on the other side of the hall. Frowning he stepped closer and pulled it from the smooth surface.

  'The balm for your wounds. And make use of the back porch! Sunlight is important for your vitamin D level.'

  He rolled his eyes, then he spotted the little jar standing on the chest of drawers beneath the mirror. He opened it and sniffed at it. Camomile. Marigold. Murtlap Essence. Well, it was worth a try. 

  Severus ascended the stairs and locked the door of his room. Then he undressed and applied the balm to all of the wounds the Essence of Dittany had not been able to heal properly. It still hurt touching the thin layers of skin covering the wounds, especially on those that had been open for a long time. Lucius and his delegation had seen to not let them heal, they'd wanted him to suffer as much pain as possible without bleeding to death. 

  Eventually, he had treated all wounds he was able to see for himself and stood in front of his wardrobe with a dogged expression. He didn't - want – to see – any of it!

  But the alternative was Granger.

  He wrinkled his nose and opened the door holding the mirror. Without looking at his face he let his gaze wander across his body. He'd caught all the wounds on his front side. Severus swallowed, then he turned to the side to be able to see his back. It was littered with long red scars as if he had been whipped. Only Walden had not needed a whip to cause this. 

  Some of the bruises weren't cicatrised yet, though. They'd still been open when Granger had freed him. The Dittany had only closed them with a thin layer of skin as well but underneath the tissue was still injured. Without a doubt, the wounds would heal on their own as well. Slowly. But it would leave more scars. 

  Not that it would make any difference.

  Nevertheless, Severus applied the balm to these wounds as well as far as he was able to reach them. A few spots in the middle of his back remained untreated. 

  Death Eaters … Severus slowly shook his head. He might still remember why he once joined them – but he wasn't able to comprehend his decision anymore. It had been the biggest folly of his life and these months of torture had not even been the highest price he'd had to pay for it. 

  Severus closed the jar and put it in the top drawer of his bedside table. Nothing would persuade him to ask Granger for help. She knew where he was wounded. Obviously, she wasn't interested in helping him.

  But apparently, she wasn't completely uninterested in his condition either. 

  He heeded her advice and sat down in the sunlight outside of the house. His black clothes intensified the warmth and it wasn't until then that he noticed how cold he'd been before. 

  Severus sat in one of the two lawn chairs standing on the tiled part of the porch and scrutinised the scene in front of him. Up to the decrepit picket fence, all of the flowers and trees were clearly visible, they were real and tangible. But everything beyond was blurred and smudgy as if it existed in another world.

  Yet it was them who existed in another world.

  “I wonder how it works.”

  This time, he didn't flinch. He'd already noticed a movement from the corner of his eye. Granger sounded thoughtful and when he turned his head to her he found her leaning against the frame of the terrace door. “Albus detached this house and the garden from our dimension and created a new one for it. This dimension only consists of this house and the garden. But it's close to its source dimension. We can guess what is on the other side, even though we can't clearly see it.”

  She was silent for a moment. “It's a great piece of magic, isn't it?”

  Severus felt himself relax. Right now it was as if the last years had not happened. As if they were still working on the potions they'd needed to vanquish the Dark Lord because this sober and peaceful mood … It was what they had acquired back then. 

  And it hadn't been easy, especially for him! Sweet Salazar, sometimes he would have liked to hang her upside down on the dungeon wall so she wouldn't be standing in his way for once!

  Just like now, it had been her genuine wish to learn that had calmed him down. Back then it had even caused him to create a place for her in his lab that had not existed before. Maybe it would help them this time as well. 

  “It is,” he eventually said and leaned back in his chair.

  He wondered whether she also thought about how much of an effort creating this new dimension was - and just for him at that. Albus had gone to great lengths with this plan and it was still uncertain if it would be worth it. The Headmaster put his trust in them. He expected them to get along with each other. That all of this would be worth it. 

  And as if Granger had just now decided to prove him right in trusting them, she said, “I will do the cooking. Do you have a wish, sir?”

  Severus grimaced. “I don't care. But be gentle with the spices.”

  “Of course.” She rolled her eyes and returned to the house.

  He huffed. Maybe they would be able to find a common ground somehow.

Chapter Text

  Severus faltered for just a split second when he opened the door to his lab and spotted Lucius Malfoy. “What are you doing here, Lucius?” he asked and turned to his desk without so much as looking at him. 

  “I had business around,” Lucius drawled. “What kind of potion is this?”

  Severus cast him a glance. Not that it had been necessary; he knew exactly what potion was simmering in the cauldron he was looking at. It was the so far most promising version of the neutralising essence he was working on with Granger. “Veritaserum,” he said without missing a beat.

  “Really? I always thought it was translucent …”

  Severus rolled his eyes. “That's why the Dark Lord orders me to brew the potions and not you.” He continued to clear up the fourth year's essays Lucius had undoubtedly looked through while Severus had been absent. “What kind of business do you have here?” he asked in doing so. “Did you try to blackmail some Ministry officials again and finally realised it doesn't work?”

  Lucius clicked his tongue. “Blackmailing is such a strong word, Severus.”

  “What would you call it?”

  He looked at him for a long time, narrowing his eyes a little. “Let's drop the subject.”

  Severus nodded. “Of course. How is Draco?”

  “He is well. Why do you ask?”

  “Since you obviously came here to chat I deemed it appropriate to enquire after him. How is he dealing with the task the Dark Lord assigned to him?”

  Lucius stopped short. He eyed him suspiciously. “You know about it?”

  “Yes, I know about it,” Severus countered, watching him intently. Lucius had doubted Severus's loyalty to the Dark Lord for some time now. Clearly, he'd come here to look for evidence and if he would understand more about potions he had long realised the concoction right under his nose was exactly that. It was sheer luck the potion indeed resembled Veritaserum in an early stage of preparation right now. Lucius shouldn't even be able to notice a difference if he bothered to check. “As far as I know he has his difficulties with it,” Severus returned to the topic. “Maybe you should use your time to help him rather than … dropping by here. The Dark Lord seems a bit on the outs with you at the moment …”

  Lucius crossed the distance between them and pushed Severus against the dungeon wall, his forearm pressed against his neck. “Is that supposed to be a threat?” he asked sharply. His eyes were darker than usual. Like clouds right before a thunderstorm.

  Severus laughed huskily. “No, Lucius, that was small talk.” His voice sounded pressed and he had to pause to catch his breath. “Reminding you of the Dark Lord's regular examinations of my mind and musing about what he'd likely say to a memory like this, that would be a threat.”

  Lucius's eyes widened before he took a step back.

  Severus rubbed his neck. “So, do you have anything else on your mind?”

  He wrinkled his nose while he regarded Severus. “I know you are hiding something, Severus. I will find out about it and then we will see with whom the Dark Lord will be on the outs.” He turned around and left the lab, loudly slamming the door shut.

  Severus tore himself from this memory blinking and looked around the room as if he saw it for the first time. He frowned. He had tried to return to his imagined lab but his mind had taken another path. That had never happened to him before. He rubbed his itching eyes.

  How long had it been since Lucius had caught him in his lab? Two and a half years? At least. He'd been working with Granger back then and the potion Lucius had been looking at had been one of the coffin nails of the Dark Lord. It had been the reason Severus had seen Granger excited for the first time. For a second he remembered her beaming face so vividly as if he'd seen it just yesterday.

  He shook his head, dispelling the memory for good. And as if that had been his plan all along he stood and left the room. It was such a hot day that he had doffed his shoes and socks, making him move almost silently. He poured himself a glass of water in the kitchen and drank it greedily. It was hard for him to handle thirst lately. It always had other emotions in tow. Confining emotions. Almost as if he still was in that shack. 

  And as it happened, captivity was a topic at hand in this house as well. Admittedly, he had more leg space and the meals were better but ultimately, Albus had just changed the iron manacles for the dimension barrier. Severus was as involuntarily here as he had been on that island in the Atlantic Ocean. He still wasn't able to leave.

  A disquieting feeling rose in Severus. His heart thumped wildly, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  He left the kitchen a few minutes later and cast a glance through the parlour to the terrace door. He stopped abruptly. A shadow was outlined against the bright afternoon sun. Severus frowned. 

  He went to the open door, so silently that Granger didn't notice him. She had her back towards him and her arms crossed. It was completely quiet. There simply was nothing that could cause a sound. No wind, no animals, not even crickets were chirping in the dusk. Only the two of them were existing here. And a gnome as he had noticed this morning. They had to be careful to close the terrace door at night. 

  A sound tore him from his thoughts. Severus listened. Then he heard it again. A sob.

  She was crying.

  He swallowed. He'd never seen her cry before, not really. Sometimes, when he had been particularly vile, tears had welled in her eyes but she had never cried in front of him, never let that happen. 

  He averted his gaze, feeling like an invader at this moment. Unwelcome. As unwelcome as the thoughts that were bubbling up in his mind. She had left a life behind just to wait here for the end of the war. She had something to lose out there and she wasn't able to protect it from here. How had Albus dared to ask this from her? For him?

  Severus cast her a last glance before he turned away as silently as he'd come and returned to his room upstairs. He locked his door as if that would lock out his guilt. Then he paced through the way-too-small room and eventually wrenched open a window, leaned out, and struggled to breathe.

  Granger whimpered when Lucius grabbed her hair and tore her head back. “Do it right, Severus!” he said over her shoulder, the tip of his wand pressed against her neck.

  Severus stared at it, he just couldn't turn away his gaze. “What am I supposed to do?” he asked.

  “The potion, Severus! Do it right!” Lucius nodded in his direction.

  And Severus struggled to lower his gaze. There was indeed a cauldron. Its content was seething, it looked as if it would explode soon. He wanted to go over and extinguish the fire but he wasn't able to move.

  The potion would explode! He had to stop it!

  Granger screamed when Lucius pressed his wand deeper into her skin. “The potion, Severus!

  “All right!” Severus shouted and turned around but he couldn't take a single step! The potion hissed when it bubbled over the rim and dribbled into the fire beyond the cauldron. Severus looked up. His hands! They were pinioned above his head. “Release me!” he yelled.

  Lucius laughed. “I cannot do that, Severus.”

  The seething of the potion grew louder, Granger screamed again. “Release me!” Severus roared, his pulse drumming in his ears.

  Then he jolted from his sleep. Sweating. Trembling. His heart thumped erratically, he gasped, feeling as if electricity was flowing through him. He sat up and threw the thin sheet aside. The trembling got worse although it was awfully hot in his room, around thirty degrees at least.

  He calmed down only slowly, just like the dream only slowly slipped away from him. But a gnawing nausea remained. He went to the bathroom and drank a little bit of water from the tap. Then he splashed it into his face. Drew his hands through his hair. In the darkness, the shapes of the room were only faintly visible. 

  Eventually, he went back to bed but he wasn't able to sleep for a long time.

  'Ice water' was scribbled on the parchment, underlined twice and with three exclamation marks behind it. Severus snorted. 

  The next moment, a hand grabbed the parchment. “Hands off my notes!” Granger glared at him and tucked the sheet into a book about healing potions. Before Severus was able to read the exact title, she'd let that disappear from his view as well. 

  “Then don't leave your stuff lying about everywhere. Isn't this supposed to be a common room? The chaos here exceeds even Longbottom's worst lab table!” His gaze wandered across the parlour. Her books were clattered on the table and the cupboards, notes were flying about everywhere – a lot of them crumpled up or torn –, and even a jumper hung on the backrest of the settee. At the height of summer!

  When his gaze finally returned to her, she grinned slyly. “Do you know what Neville's doing now?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “I don't think I want to know.”

  “I will tell you anyway.” She raised her eyebrows. “He is the owner and head of one of the most prosperous magical apothecaries in London. He's brewing the potions himself.”

  Severus almost choked on his own saliva. “And how many people has he killed already?”

  “Not a single one!” she replied indignantly. “On the contrary, he's known for the superb preparation of his potions.” She was obviously having the time of her life telling him all of this. 

  “Unbelievable how little emphasis is being put upon references nowadays.” He crossed his arms.

  “Oh, he has terrific references. Master Rutherforth took him on when he noticed Neville's talent with Herbology. He thought it a shame that he recoiled from using the ingredients as if he was about to touch a hotplate.” Granger's eyes were glistening belligerently.

  “It would have been better for all parties if it had stayed that way.” If Neville Longbottom was a Potions Master now – and he had to be to not only own an apothecary but to be allowed to sell his own brews – then Severus would inevitably meet him again at some point. Professionally. On eye-level. Merlin forbid! This house and his enforced stay were suddenly becoming more attractive.

  “That's a matter of opinion,” Granger countered, her eyes twinkling. “You should take another vial of the Strengthening Solution, by the way. You seem to respond well to it.”

  He had to reluctantly agree. After only two vials he already felt stronger. And then it dawned on him. “No,” he said slowly.

  She grinned. “Yes!”

  Damn it!

  “It is Neville's. Before our … departure … I didn't have enough time to brew some myself and you know how fast especially this potion decays.” She lifted a stack of books, obviously pleased. “He will be thrilled to know his potions meet your standards.”

  “I said no such thing, Miss Granger!”

  “But you can't say anything to the contrary either and that's just as good, sir.” Granger savoured his dogged expression for some seconds. Then her gaze got serious again. “Hands off my things,” she reminded him and left the room.

  In the past two days, Severus had tried to find out what her note about the ice water was supposed to mean. Granger was working on a potion, without a doubt, and he could only support this form of occupation. But it irked him that she didn't involve him. Every time he saw her, she was busy researching details he could have easily told her about – if she'd only bothered to ask.

  She had always been promising at the cauldron and during the time they'd been working together, she'd only become better. But obviously, she had favoured a more valuable education regarding the ongoing war. The art of healing was challenging as well, but since she was now more often engrossed in books about potions than healing her interests seemed to be on the former. Although the one could effortlessly be combined with the other. 

  He was tempted to train her. They had plenty of time and it would keep them both from losing their minds. Especially him. It would definitely keep him from losing his mind. But she didn't seem to be receptive to suggestions like that. On the contrary, right now she seemed to despise even the ground he was walking on and that wasn't of any help for his state of mind.

  The war had apparently not only forced her to become a healer but also to become more like him than he cared to admit. Most of the time, she was unrecognisable to him. The common ground they'd gained a few years ago was lost.

  Severus shuddered thinking about it. Throughout his life, he'd lost quite some acquaintances and friends but normally he always knew what had been the problem – most of the time it had been him. With Granger, he wasn't sure. 

  He still thought it possible she held Potter's death against him. But they'd developed the potion together and he hadn't kept anything from her. That Potter had died had only partly been because of the potion. She had to know as much.

  Right?

  Had she been there? Had she seen it? Or had anybody else seen it? And if so, had this person told her afterwards?

  Albus certainly hadn't told anyone. 

  Severus grimaced. Perhaps Granger really did not know. 

  But was that the reason for her grudge? Was it still important why Potter had died? It was bitter, without a doubt. He'd died believing his death would bring peace to the Wizarding World. Severus sighed. He had never been fond of Potter but he genuinely hoped he did not know how the Wizarding World had evolved.

  Severus blinked and looked around his room. Something was wrong. His gaze fell onto the window pane. Frostwork was blossoming on it, he could watch it grow. But the window lay in the sun. 

  “What the …” he muttered.

  And then he sensed it. The temperatures in the house were dropping. Normally desirable, the summer heat had warmed up the house like an oven and not even cooling charms lasted through the nights. But his breath was forming clouds in the air! That was too much of a good thing.

  “Granger!” Severus growled and crossed his room with large strides. He descended the stairs and it got colder with every step. “Miss Granger! What have you done?” His foot suddenly slipped on the last step and he barely managed to grab onto the handrail. Glancing down in shock, he noticed a thin layer of ice covering the floor.

  Only when his thumping heart calmed a bit he felt the pain on his back. The wounds. His near-fall had ripped them open again. Severus closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

  Then Granger screamed.

  He crossed the hall, which was luckily carpeted, but when he wrenched open the door to the basement, snowflakes blew in his face and he stumbled back with a harsh gust of wind sweeping his hair back. Holy shit! Goosebumps flashed across his skin when he leaned against the wind and fought his way down into the basement.

  “Miss Granger! What is -” He stopped abruptly when he saw the lab. Snow. Everywhere was snow! And more flakes were trickling down from the ceiling. The taps were icicled, the liquid ingredients in the vessels on the shelves were frozen, some glass containers were cracked. The temperatures had dropped to about minus thirty degrees, give or take.

  And then he saw the penguins.

  Penguins!

  They were standing on the lab table. One of them was just shoving a big egg deeper under its belly, the other one stood in front of it and hissed at Severus.

  Who stepped back wide-eyed. Now he could definitely use a wand! But no such thing had appeared in the pantry so far. Only fresh food and a letter for Granger. 

  “Miss Granger, I demand an explanation!” he said sharply and looked around. 

  Another scream indicated her location. She was standing in the back part of the lab in a corner where an adolescent polar bear had funnelled her. “I'm rather busy right now!” she shouted and pointed at her wand that she apparently had lost on her flight. 

  Severus snorted. “Could you not at least have decided between North and South Pole?” he asked as cool as the ice surrounding them, perhaps as a retaliation for their little chat about Longbottom. He saw her casting him a furious glance before she grabbed a broom to keep the polar bear at a distance since it had lost its interest in the boxes and cartons and had turned to Granger with hungry greed in his eyes.

  “Hurry up!” she screeched.

  Severus bent down to fetch the wand. More pain shot through his back. He pursed his lips. Then he pointed her wand at the chaos in the lab and said, “Finite incantatem!”

  Snow, ice, penguins, and polar bear disappeared with a soft pop. Granger, however, kept standing in the corner, broom in her hands, panting. She needed a moment until she put it away awkwardly. Her face was flushed, her hair dripping wet. 

  Severus handed her the wand and she grabbed it harshly. “I beg your pardon for my inability to keep my hands off your things under these circumstances,” he drawled. His back prickled.

  “Shut up and take off that shirt,” Granger said, apparently determined to not explain the ice desert any further. She casually slewed a cauldron from the fire and cleared the table.

  “Excuse me?” he asked pointedly.

  She looked at him. “Your shirt, sir. You're bleeding.”

  He wrinkled his nose. The penguins had surprised him, so much so that he'd briefly turned his back on her. Of course, she had seen it. Not even a bloody polar bear could keep her from noticing something like that. Reluctantly he did as she'd told him, grimacing at the pain it caused him to pull the fabric from where it stuck to the bleeding wounds. 

  “What are you waiting for? Turn around!” she added impatiently when he just stood there bare-chested and clenching his teeth. 

  So he did that as well. Grudgingly! He heard her inhale sharply when she saw his back. But she said nothing, only put her hands on his shoulders and urged him to sit down on the stool she'd pulled from under the table. 

  “Where did the ice desert come from?” he asked while she went to the lab cabinet and fetched a small bottle of Dittany and another jar of balm.

  “That's none of your business,” she muttered.

  Severus sensed the prickling of a cleansing charm, then he heard her open the bottle. “I disagree.”

  “That's your prerogative.” Severus wanted to stand up but she held him back. “Don't you dare!” Throughout the next minutes, she dabbed his wounds with Dittany and when a thin layer of skin had formed, she covered them with the balm. “You should have come to me earlier,” she eventually said.

  Severus snorted. “It would have healed on its own.”

  “Sure. But how?”

  “Like all the other wounds.” Severus didn't look at her when he donned his shirt and buttoned it up. She'd cleaned it along with his back, there weren't any bloodstains left on it. He crossed his arms in front of his chest when he was finished. “Well … Where did the ice desert come from, Miss Granger?”

  She groaned, rubbing her forehead. “Well, one part came from the South Pole, the other from the North Pole.”

  “Watch your tongue!” he said sharply. “I don't need House Points for you to respect me again.”

  She looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I'm shivering from fear. No, wait! That's because of the temperatures. My bad.” She clicked her tongue and turned around. But before he could say anything to her audacious remark she continued, “You have to put balm on these wounds twice a day. If you aren't able to do it by yourself, ask me, for Merlin's sake! I don't bite!”

  “Are you sure?” he asked pointedly.

  She cast him a glance. “Are you afraid of me?”

  He laughed mirthlessly, his voice rumbling in his chest. “I'm shivering from fear. No, wait!”

  Granger narrowed her eyes. “Morning and evening!” she repeated, then she turned and left the lab. 

  Severus's gaze followed her while he frowned.

Chapter Text

  The next day in the late afternoon, Severus was sitting on the terrace, reading a book. He felt like the house hadn't warmed up properly after the brief onset of winter yesterday, although he knew it was stupid. The sun was turning their dimension into a kind of greenhouse due to the barrier surrounding it. It was warm! Outright hot, actually! Yet his body was covered in goosebumps and he barely could stop shivering.

  So he'd reluctantly gone outside to place himself in the blazing sun.

  And he felt a little better now but not even the summer heat was able to thoroughly warm him up. He was still shivering from time to time. 

  Blinking, he turned a page. Since yesterday, he hadn't spoken a word with Granger. They outright avoided each other and considering his foul mood today (these damned dreams had torn him from his sleep three times last night!) it probably was for the best, for both of them. With her heated temper and his stressed nerves, every encounter could only end in disaster. 

  But as if his thoughts had summoned her, Granger stepped onto the terrace that very moment. “Professor Snape?”

  He hummed to signal he'd heard her.

  “Do you want to eat something? I made dinner.”

  “No.”

  She stilled, keeping silent for a moment, then, “You really should eat something, sir.”

  He looked up from his book grudgingly and blinked against the sun. “I am not hungry, Miss Granger.”

  She frowned and regarded him with the attentive gaze of a healer. Severus pressed his fingers against the cover of the book. “Bad day?” she asked carefully and perhaps it was meant as an offer of peace.

  Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have responded to such an offer. But these weren't normal circumstances. And he was tired of fighting. So he nodded. “Yes, bad day.” Starting already with breakfast, which he hadn't been able to keep down for more than ten minutes. His body really was in a terrible condition.

  She nodded. “Come to me later so I can tend to your wounds,” she remembered him calmly, then she turned around and went back into the house. 

  Severus watched her leave. Well, that had surprisingly been anything but a disaster … After a few seconds, he returned to his book but he wasn't able to concentrate on the words. Against his will, his thoughts went wandering, back into the past. His mind pulled up a memory and forced him to watch it, although he only wanted to leave all of this behind. But he was fighting it to no avail. His vision clouded and he was back there … 

  He could see nothing. It was raining. It was dark. And this bloody mask wasn't of any help! Severus stumbled and almost toppled to the muddy ground. Swaying he stabilised himself. He stopped, his wand raised. His breath formed clouds in the cool and humid air, water was seeping through his cloak. The rain blurred the black silhouettes of fighters in front of the lighting of Curses. It was loud. A scream echoed across the grounds.

  He couldn't see anything! It was even more dangerous with this mask than without it. Sod it! He plucked it from his face and threw it away unheedingly.

  Somebody jostled against his back. Severus stumbled, caught himself and turned around. “I'm sorry!” Avery.

  Severus nodded mechanically and Avery returned to the bulk of fighters. Severus raised his wand, aimed and sent a Stupefy his way. “No problem.”

  He went on.

  Technically, he didn't have time for these gambles. The Dark Lord was defeated – the Death Eaters weren't. In fact, they were reorganising, unwilling to surrender. They had no reason to and that was a problem. He had to go on spying. Had to hang on. And to be able to do so he had to know whether Lucius was still alive. 

  With each body Severus passed he stopped, turned it around and tried to figure out who he was looking at. It wasn't as easy as one ought to think, not all of the Death Eaters were still wearing their mask. But there were definitely more Aurors and members of the Order amongst them than Death Eaters. And Lucius was nowhere to be found. Did the bugger miss his Killing Curse just like Severus missed his? He looked around.

  No, but seriously: Why was he still alive? In all of the scenarios of the final battle Severus had played out in his head this possibility hadn't existed. Not in earnest. Of course, it had been his goal to last as long as possible. But until the end? Even beyond the battle? No. He felt as if he'd missed his train. 

  As if Potter had stolen his seat. 

  He and the Dark Lord had merely been background actors on the stage. The Dark Lord had focused on killing Potter and Potter had focused on killing him first. Or – if that had proven impossible – on bringing him down with him. The earth had trembled with the power of these two and hardly anybody had seen Albus supporting Potter with his magic. Heaven and earth had bowed to them and the powers of nature had been turned against the evil. So this was what Albus and Potter had thought up in the last few months. Severus couldn't help but admire them for it.

  And he had mingled potions with Granger.

  Of course, the essence they'd developed had weakened the Dark Lord. Slowly. With each drop Severus had slipped him. And of course, a second potion had multiplied Potter's magic. But had that really enabled the death of the Dark Lord? Wouldn't he have died under Albus's magic anyway?

  In any case, the potion had led to Potter's death as well. It had strengthened his magic to such an extreme that a human body was barely able to endure it. Coupled with Albus's magic he didn't stand a chance. And Albus had known it. Being the old chess player he was he'd sacrificed one of his pieces believing he would win the game. 

  Severus snorted weakly and went on. 

  Another body. Another member of the Order.

  When he stood up Severus froze. He was standing right in front of him, his white-blond hair tangled and soaking wet, the Death Eater mask in his hand, his cloak dirty. Lucius Malfoy. 

  “There is something I have to discuss with you, Severus,” he said as if they'd been arranged to meet for tea and slowly came closer. 

  “That's convenient. I was also looking for you.” Severus made a wide gesture across the bodies on the ground. Lucius was so close now he could see him cocking an eyebrow.

  “I assumed you'd think me capable of more than that.” He twisted his wand in his hand, still wearing his black gloves.

  “I think I have a good perception of your abilities, Lucius.” Severus paused. “Well, what is it you want to discuss with me?” He hid his own wand between the folds of his wet cloak.

  Lucius waved his hand. “Be my guest. You won't get a chance when I'm finished with you.”

  Severus growled, inaudible in the sound of the rain. He didn't want to talk, he had other plans. And for a moment he thought about just killing Lucius. It would make everything easier. It would even solve the issue.

  There were only two problems. First: Severus was no murderer. He'd never killed anybody. Second: It was Lucius. Lucius, who had given him shelter during the summer holidays so he didn't have to go home. Lucius, who had seen to him making friends at Hogwarts. Lucius, who had helped him. Every time. Without asking questions. 

  As much as Severus loathed it … And as much as Lucius loathed him today … He wasn't able to kill him. 

  Severus slightly lifted the tip of his wand without Lucius noticing. And then he cast a Full Body-Bind Curse. Nonverbal. Lucius didn't see it coming, he collapsed back, eyes wide open, mud and water splashing up.

  Severus slowly went to him and kneeled down alongside him. “Words alone won't be enough to convince you, Lucius,” he said and drew a vial from his cloak. Yes, he had considered the possibility of a situation like this. He had prepared. He always did. That was why he was still alive. “I don't like to do it, our friendship has always been of great value to me. But you just won't give up and now, as the Dark Lord is dead, I don't have any choice. I can't die now. Don't get me wrong, I'm not particularly fond of my life. But Albus needs me and I'm his man.” Lucius's eyes widened. “Yes, you were right, Lucius. I've been Albus's man for much longer than you would think possible.”

  Through his magically clenched lips, Lucius uttered angry sounds that certainly should have become words.

  “Oh, I understand you. I feel your fist in my face. Right here.” He tapped against his jaw. “But let's move on.” Severus unstoppered the vial and opened Lucius's mouth with his wand, just enough to dribble the potion into it. Lucius burbled and part of the potion seeped out of the corner of his mouth but he didn't have to drink a lot of it for it to be effective. 

  Severus threw the empty vial away just like his Death Eater mask before and prepared to dive into the mind of the man lying before him. But first, he pointed his wand at one of the bodies littering the ground around them and cast an illusion charm on it. Now it looked like a young woman. Like a half-naked young woman. Lucius would know Severus had done something in his mind. He had to present him with an explanation for it.

  “Back to us,” he mumbled, turning to Lucius again, and sank into his mind. It worked smoothly now that Lucius's mind had been prepared accordingly. And equally smoothly he found the memories he had to get rid of. Unfortunately, he couldn't just obliviate Lucius, there had been too many little moments making him sceptical. His mistrust of Severus ran like a thread through almost all of their encounters, no matter if it had been justified. He had to carefully separate each of these moments from the context, there was too much around it that Lucius mustn't forget. But Severus was able to lock up all of them and made sure Lucius wouldn't have access to them anymore.

  It took him mere minutes until he left the other man's mind and cancelled the curse. “I'm sorry, Lucius. You are confused, that's normal. You asked me to dispose of this memory, do you remember?”

  The grey eyes widened. He shook his head. 

  Severus reached out his hand and pulled him to his feet. “You did. It was important for you.”

  “What … What memory?”

  Severus raised his eyebrows. “Of what use would disposing of it be if I told you now what sort of memory it was?”

  “Ah, yes. Yes.” Lucius tugged at his cloak uneasily, rivulets of rain streaming down his pale face. Severus could almost watch his thoughts running in circles. “Was it … a bad memory?”

  Severus's mouth tightened. “More … embarrassing.”

  Lucius was taken aback. “Embarrassing? For me?”

  “I'm afraid so.”

  He swallowed. Dropped his gaze and looked around. Then he noticed the body of the woman and frowned. “Who is she?” he asked with irritation.

  “Just a Muggle.”

  “A Muggle?” Lucius's gaze returned to him. “What is a Muggle doing here?”

  “I don't know, Lucius. Shall we go then?” He reached for Lucius's arm but Lucius yanked it away.

  “Why is she exposed, Severus?”

  Severus looked at him intently. “Stop asking questions, Lucius! You begged me to get rid of this memory. You said you would not be able to live with it.”

  Lucius swallowed. Rain was dripping from his nose and Severus could see his pulse racing on his neck. “Nobody must know,” he said numbly.

  “Nobody will know!” Severus confirmed . “Not even you.”

  Lucius looked at him, his gaze a little confused. “Nobody must know,” he mumbled again and turned to leave without giving him another glance.

  Finally, Severus was able to tear himself out of his memory. He gasped and massaged his forehead. Holy shit … What was his mind doing to him? Why did it suddenly compel him to watch memories? Why did it turn against him after all these years? He wished he had a wand to put these memories into his Pensieve.

  Severus closed his eyes. That night … A lot had happened since then. First of all, he was a murderer now. Although with a clear conscience. 

  For two years, his little charade had worked. Two years in which Lucius had mostly left him alone. Why it eventually had fallen apart, how he'd got to know this Muggle had never existed, and especially that he'd never touched her, Severus didn't know. 

  He straightened up in his lawn chair. The terrace was covered with light coming from the house behind him, the sun had almost completely set. He rose with stiff limbs and reached for the book, almost toppling over doing so. Grabbing the armrest of the chair he steadied himself. No, definitely not his day. Best to end it as soon as possible.

  But before he could go to bed he had to go to Granger so she could tend to his back. This morning he'd still been awfully annoyed by it and he'd have loved nothing better than somehow doing it himself. But with muscles as stiff as his he just wasn't able to reach all of the wounds on his back. 

  Now, however, he didn't feel that annoyed anymore. Did it really matter? There was nothing she hadn't already seen.

  So he crossed the empty but well-lit parlour and fetched the balm resting on the chest of drawers in the hall before he went looking for Granger. The kitchen was as empty as the basement, though. So he turned the lights off and ascended the stairs. He stopped in front of her door, hesitating. For days he hadn't even known where she had her quarters (not that he'd been interested), and in the past, he wouldn't have hesitated to knock. Now, though … Bugger it! His knuckles hit the wood and he waited.

  “Who's there?”

  Severus cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “The polar bear,” he replied dryly.

  Granger opened the door and looked at him sheepishly. A soft blush tinted her cheeks. “More of a black bear,” she said and took the jar from his hand before she stepped aside and let him in.

  Severus looked around. Her room had as spartan an interior as his. A picture of her and Weasley stood on the bedside table; they were laughing and Granger swept a strand of hair from his face. But besides the picture, only some rows of books gave a personal touch to the room. He quickly returned his gaze to her and began unbuttoning his shirt. “With how many people have you shared a place before our arrival here?”

  She looked at him dumbfoundedly. “With a few.”

  Severus raised his eyebrows. Decreasing from a few flatmates to one, especially one as disliked as him, must be hard for a social person like her. “You could have brought a house-elf.”

  Granger frowned. “Of what use would a house-elf have been here? It's not as if we had that much to do”, she mumbled and opened the jar. Then she put both parts on the table and waited for him to turn around. 

  “A house-elf has more to offer than doing the chores, Miss Granger.” For years, he'd had most of his honest conversations with a house-elf. 

  “I'm well aware of that, sir,” she said while her fingers slid across his back. “But I was worried about his health.”

  He snorted. “Do you think we will get into a situation in which objects will hurtle through the air?”

  “Everything is possible,” she commented vaguely.

  Granger's fingers wandered deeper and deeper on his back. The last wounds were positioned right above his waistband. What he'd yesterday hardly noticed because of the adrenaline and this morning because of his frustration he now was hardly able to ignore. Severus closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “I do not intend to let something like that happen,” he pressed out. His pulse quickened when memories rose in front of his eyes. His fingers began to tremble.

  “Good to know,” he heard her answer and experienced the odd sensation of being torn from very deep thoughts back into reality. It felt as if he'd been woken, as if something was forcefully pulling him into different directions. “Are you okay, sir?” Granger stepped around him and scrutinised him.

  Severus blinked. “Yes. Thank you for your help, Miss Granger.” He donned his shirt and fumbled with the buttons. His damn fingers were still shaking. 

  “No problem. I guess we can finish the treatment in about two days.”

  Severus nodded and turned to the door. “Have a good night.”

  Bloody hell …

  Once again he was in that damned lab.

  And heard something.

  Behind him.

  Steps.

  His pulse quickened. Severus tried to glance over his shoulder but there was only darkness.

  One step. Another.

  “I will get you back for it, Severus.”

  Lucius. Severus gasped, then he clenched his teeth so they'd stop chattering. It was so cold. Snowflakes were drifting to the ground in front of him, landing on his naked body. 

  “Hands off my things, Severus!” Lucius's voice vibrated in his head. 

  “Exactly!”

  Granger!

  Severus yanked his head around. There she was. Next to him. She was stirring a cauldron that the snowflakes that were covering him were rising from.

  “I don't understand this behaviour,” she addressed Lucius, shaking her head. “Do it!”

  “No!” Severus shouted. His heart was thumping so hard it hurt.

  “Gladly, my dear,” Lucius said to Granger. And turning to Severus he added, “Don't play with my memories!”

  Severus heard a sizzling sound – a wand that was quickly swished through the air. And then there was only pain ripping his body apart. He screamed and screamed and screamed …

  Until something was shaking him.

  “Wake up, sir!”

  No, somebody! Somebody was shaking him. He felt the grip of two hands on his shoulders. That was not a dream.

  “Wake up!”

  The voice was like a guide. As if it showed him the exit to this nightmare that he had been looking for in vain. Severus gasped when he tore his eyes open.

  Granger was standing beside his bed, the light was turned on. “Are you conscious again?” He nodded. “Will you finally stop screaming?” He nodded once more. “Fine.” She let go of him and stepped back. 

  Severus sat up and put his feet on the floor, wiping the sweat from his forehead. His face was burning. The next moment Granger was shoving a vial into his field of vision. “What is that?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Draught of Living Death. You will take it tonight and tomorrow we will address these dreams.”

  He took the vial but made no move to drink its contents. “I don't think that will be necessary.”

  Granger raised an eyebrow. “How many nights more do you want to spend plagued by nightmares?”

  Severus snorted derisively. “I'm used to worse.”

  “With all due respect, sir, you were tortured and abused.” Granger looked at him intently. “Maybe you were able to distance yourself from it consciously, but your subconscious mind wasn't. You should face up to it before it gets worse.”

  “And why, pray tell, should I do this with you?” he asked silkily.

  “Because there's nobody else available.”

  Severus put the vial on his bedside table, running both of his hands across his face. He was so tired. And he was losing control over his mind. He wanted to be left in peace – by her and by the last months and by his mind that had begun to torture him so deviously. But perhaps she was right. Most likely she was. His mind wouldn't just leave him alone and there wasn't anybody else around. Merlin, he wished he could just leave. One way or another. But he couldn't. So … 

  He sighed. Well. If she wanted to play her little games with him, perhaps he could get something out of it as well. He looked up at her. “Alright. I agree.” She seemed surprised. “But on one condition.” Her surprise gave way to resignation.

  “And that would be?”

  “As soon as we are finished with mine we will tend to your nightmares.” Severus saw her expression slip, just for a second. Something or somebody had hurt her. He could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice, and he noticed it every night when the light was seeping out from under her door. Yes, he was fighting some daemons – but so was she. 

  Granger got a hold of herself quickly. “We will see,” she said vaguely. “Take the potion and have a good night's rest. The next days will be exhausting.” Without waiting for an answer she turned around and left his room. 

  Severus swivelled his head until his neck cracked. He'd seen a lot that was following him into his dreams and he'd found his ways to deal with it. But the last few months had been worse than anything he'd experienced before. His mind forcing him to watch these memories and his being unable to leave this dream by himself was evidence of it. Something inside him wanted him to face up to all of it instead of just controlling it. He really should give her method a chance. 

  Severus reached for the vial and took a sip of it. The heavy tiredness washed over him quickly and he sank back, barely able to draw the sheet over his body. 

  He was surprised by how long Granger left him alone. The whole next day he waited for her to approach him because of last night but she didn't. He didn't even see her once.

  When he left the kitchen in the morning he heard her in the basement and hurriedly sneaked back upstairs. Throughout the day, however, he went down multiple times to fetch himself some water. At noon it was quiet, in the afternoon he heard the soft bubbling of a potion in the basement. For a moment he was tempted to go downstairs and look at it. He still hadn't figured out what that ice water had meant. But his curiosity didn't outweigh his aversion to her plans. 

  In the evening he sat down in his room to read a book and as if that, the sight of printed pages, was becoming a signal for his mind it dragged Severus back to the bloody past. What was happening to his control? How had he been able to survive years under the Dark Lord when his mind was now betraying him like this?

  He didn't find answers to these questions before he was overwhelmed by old memories.

  Severus's head was brutally wrenched back after a kick into his knee pits had forced him down. He blinked when the charm blinding him was cancelled. The bright light stung in his eyes and he was only slowly able to see who was standing in front of him, although he'd already assumed who it was. 

  “Good morning, Severus,” Lucius Malfoy said.

  Severus grunted. The person restraining him tore at his hair again. What had happened? What had blown his cover? Lucius had left him alone for almost two years. What had changed?

  Lucius looked at him. Then he bent down so their faces were only an inch apart from each other. “Sexual desires?” he sneered and wrinkled his nose.

  Severus snorted. Lucius remembered. That had changed. Dammit! But why? Indifferently he looked into the grey eyes of the man he'd once called his best friend. “I know your weaknesses, Lucius.”

  Lucius lunged out and hit him in the face with his fist. Severus's nose made a nasty cracking sound, tears sprang to his eyes, he tasted blood on his lips. His left ear was chirping so loudly he wasn't able to hear anything for a moment. Another jerk to his hair. His gaze found Lucius's face again. 

  He raised his eyebrows. “I knew your weaknesses as well. But unfortunately, the little Mudblood is long dead.” Lucius twisted his wand in his hands while he watched Severus. His missing reaction seemed to enrage him. “Luckily, I have all the time in the world now to get to know you again.”

  Severus swallowed, blood was trickling down his throat, the magical manacles were chafing his wrists. And all of this was only a foretaste of what was to come. He knew Lucius. The man loved to torture and there was a lot he wanted to see Severus suffer for. 

  He swallowed again. 

  “Get him out!” Lucius said. “Do with him whatever you want. But keep him alive!” Their gazes locked once more. “I still have to teach him a lesson.”

  A knocking on his door luckily tore Severus from this memory. He took a deep breath and his pulse slowed a little. Gulping he raised and opened the door a fraction.

  Granger looked at him observantly. “Are you ready?”

  “Is there any point in saying no?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do you ask?”

  “Because the feeling of doing something voluntarily increases the cooperation of the patients.” Severus snorted. “Will you come with me now?”

  He harrumphed and stepped into the hall. Without giving another glance Granger turned around and descended the stairs. He watched her sullenly and pulled his door shut behind him before he followed her slowly.

Chapter Text

  She waited for him in the parlour, standing next to the armchair, and Severus was astonished to spot two glasses on the table, both well-filled with an amber liquid. He sat down on the settee and eyed them warily. “Alcohol, Miss Granger?”

  She nodded in confirmation and after she'd sat down as well she took a sip of hers.

  “How am I to understand this?”

  She shrugged. “It opens your mind and makes me more placid. I think it will make this chat more comfortable for both of us.”

  Severus stared at her. After a moment, she pointed at his glass and he pursed his lips before he emptied it in one big gulp. But he'd barely put it back on the table when it topped itself up again while the level in the bottle next to it sank. He arched an eyebrow. 

  “Spares us refilling,” she explained without him having to ask. 

  “I'm not sure what to think about your methods.” Severus leaned back and crossed his arms in front of his chest while the warmth of the alcohol spread from his stomach.

  “Think about it what you want.”

  He kept silent. It concerned him that she needed alcohol to be more placid, as she'd called it. But right now she didn't seem receptive to a discussion like that. 

  She looked at him expectantly. “Can we begin then?”

  Severus exhaled sharply and nodded. 

  “I want to see one of the dreams that are bothering you. For that purpose, you will take this sleeping potion.” She indicated a vial standing beside the fire whisky. “It will prompt a dream. And I will slip into your mind and watch it.”

  He snorted. “You will not.”

  She raised her eyebrows but remained quiet, just kept looking at him.

  “What gave you the idea that I would approve of this, Miss Granger?”

  And yet again she rolled her eyes! “You can of course just tell me in detail what you've been through. We can talk about it and I can teach you some techniques to manage your nightmares, flashbacks and body memories, and perhaps, in a few years, you will be able to sleep easily again. Perhaps …”

  Severus gnashed his teeth. “What is the alternative?”

  “Possible alternative. A combination of potions I developed. You will take one potion and live through your memories in a sort of sleep. And as soon as you are done with that, a second potion will finish the treatment. You will remember what has happened and you will have an emotional reaction to it but it will only be a faint echo compared to what you are going through now.” She looked at him. “This way, you won't have to talk to anybody about what has happened.” 

  He ran his hand across his face. He did not want either of these but that seemed to be out of the question. He was losing control over his mind. It forced him to revisit memories, not allowing him to push them away with Occlumency anymore. And these dreams … He knew she was right. He had to tend to it, it would only get worse. And if he was forced to tend to it he preferred to do it alone. With this version of Hermione Granger, he definitely didn't want to talk about anything that … 

  No. 

  Severus reached for the vial and emptied it. “I hope this is compatible with alcohol,” he growled, the bitter taste still on his tongue.

  “I wouldn't have offered you alcohol if it wasn't,” she retorted and whipped out her wand. 

  “Are you even able to do Legilimency?”

  She groaned. “Professor Snape, please …” And signalled him to lie down.

  He scrunched his nose. If this was her placid mood she had not drunk enough alcohol yet. 

  But he didn't complain. Instead, he lay down on the settee and closed his eyes. Up until now, he'd have claimed the potion wasn't even working. But he'd barely closed his eyes when heavy tiredness overcame him and dragged him down. 

  Straight into a nightmare.

  The curse ripped his skin open. Severus screamed involuntarily, the chains restraining him clattered. 

  “You killed me!”

  Severus whirled his head around. Potter! His face was a furious mask of deep red, his hand so tightly wrapped around his wand that it trembled. 

  “You knew what would happen!” He twitched his wand again, the next curse hit Severus.

  He gasped. “No, I didn't know,” he said while pain flickered through his back.

  He had to get out of here. So he focused. The lab briefly flared up in front of his eyes, Master Dendron smiled at him. 

  “Severus, you can't deduct House Points for such a ridiculous reason!”

  He flinched, his head whirling in the other direction. Minerva.

  No!

  He struggled to get back to his feet but Potter's next curse just rushed him off his feet again. His legs gave way, he blacked out. When his vision slowly cleared he saw a white object at his feet. He blinked. The Death Eater mask. Something was dripping down at it. Blood. His blood.

  Severus snapped his eyes open, panting. Granger. She was sitting opposite him in the armchair. Why was she here? He looked around. The parlour. Why was he here? Why had he been sleeping? On the settee?

  Only slowly the memories returned. Right, sleep therapy. He groaned. 

  “Are you happy now, Miss Granger?” he asked hoarsely and sat up. His eyes were itching, the images of his dreams were lurking only an inch beyond reality. His body screamed for more sleep but right now he didn't want to close his eyes ever again. 

  “Depends on your point of view,” she mumbled while she was scribbling away on her notepad. 

  Severus squinted his eyes. Right, she had seen it. Everything. He swallowed.

  What had she said again? Ah yes, points of view … Points of view?

  He frowned. “Which points of view?” he asked and rubbed his eyes. The sleeping potion was still in effect. 

  Granger paused and looked up at him. She narrowed her eyes a little; perhaps she noticed how sluggishly his brain was working right now. Dammit.

  Eventually, she sighed. “The one being your healer and the one being … your former student.”

  “And what is the difference between them?”

  She lowered her clipboard and put her pen away. “Are you sure you are able to discuss this right now, sir?”

  “Yes,” he countered. “Tomorrow I might not remember you still owe me an answer.” He tried to suppress a yawn.

  “But you will remember the answer?” she asked and snorted softly.

  He contorted his face, pondering about her question. “Maybe not,” he admitted, “But that should only increase your incentive to answer me.”

  She slowly shook her head. “No, not increasing in the slightest.” She grabbed her notes and the pen again. 

  Severus sighed. “Is my healer happy with what she has seen then?” he returned to his original question and reached for his glass, taking a big gulp. Perhaps the sharp taste of alcohol would help him to return to the here and now and get rid of the images of his dream. His gaze flickered across the bottle of Firewhisky; had it already been that empty when he'd taken the potion?

  Granger's nodding distracted him, he noticed it above the rim of his glass. “Very much so. Who has been that smiling man in the lab? Did you try to blank out using your imagination?”

  Severus needed a moment to understand her question. Smiling man? Lab? Then he remembered. Right … Master Dendron had appeared shortly. 

  What had she been asking again? With an effort, he reran the sound of her words in his head. He would definitely not remember anything of this tomorrow … He snorted softly but finally, something clicked and he nodded. “I did.”

  She hummed. “I guess my potion will help you. I'll prepare it for you tomorrow if you like. In about two weeks you can be done with it.”

  Severus narrowed his eyes. “How does your potion even work?”

  She smiled mischievously. “I'll tell you on occasion. Perhaps … Do you still want to try it?”

  He closed his eyes, his lids were so heavy. A thought stirred on the brink of his mind … The thought that it was a little bit immoral of her to ask him this question now. Was she doing it on purpose?

  Severus noticed himself spacing out and forced his eyes open again. If he said no this discussion would surely lengthen awfully. He did not want that. And what did he have to lose? Perhaps it would assuage her to have a project.

  He nodded.

  “Fine. I will see to the first potion then. You should go to sleep now.” She stood up and crossed the parlour at an unexpectedly steady pace considering her alcohol consumption. He knew he wouldn't be able to walk that straight right now. She stopped at the door and turned around to him halfway. Severus saw her inhaling, apparently wanting to say something. 

  “Yes, Miss Granger?” he probed when she was still silent several seconds later.

  She closed her mouth and shook her head. “Never mind.”

  To his surprise, Severus could remember everything when the effect of the sleeping potion ceased. It was a pity Granger had refused to tell him his former student's point of view. 

  He wandered through the garden, lost in thoughts. The blurred ball the sun was on this side of the dimension barrier neared the horizon. Every now and then a black spot appeared close to the barrier; probably bigger insects or small birds. 

  The garden was surprisingly spacious. It provided enough room for a large table and a lot of guests. Only the guests were missing. And the table. Some patches divided the lawn into smaller areas, colourful flowers were reaching out for the last rays of the sun and slowly closing their petals for today.

  Frowning, he strolled on and contemplated. All of this – the house, the garden, the whole dimension – was a friendly prison. There were no bars and no stench, no chains and no curses (only Granger) … But it was a prison. 

  Severus hadn't learned anything about the events in the Wizarding World for months. He didn't know whether there had been battles and if so who had won them. He didn't know what Albus was planning and whether the Ministry was finally willing to cooperate. Or if the Ministry was long lost to the Death Eaters. He didn't even know who had died and who was still alive. Except for Poppy, of course. Granger didn't talk about these topics and he didn't dare ask.

  But the desire to leave grew stronger and stronger in him. It didn't matter where he'd end up as long as it got him out of imprisonment. And especially out of this dimension that confined him with the illusion of freedom. 

  This desire had always been a part of him. He'd even left Hogwarts for the weekend from time to time. Albus had made a lot of fuss about it every single time because he hadn't known where Severus was going. He still did not know Severus had just been at his grandparent's house visiting his grandmother. Just at the coast, sometimes out on the sea in that little boat of hers. Just stealing a piece of freedom that wasn't his. Just tasting a bit of what he had spoiled for himself. 

  Absentmindedly he touched his left forearm. The scarred skin, all of the bumps and dents. He frowned. 

  Then he suddenly turned around and clasped his hands behind his back, returning to the house. He faltered when he noticed Granger in the terrace door. She had a vial containing a pale-violet liquid in her hand. 

  “Is this the first potion?” he asked.

  She blinked repeatedly, looking down at her hand, and nodded. “One tablespoon when you go to sleep and an additional one in case you are up to another round. Not more than two tablespoons a day. Tell me if you notice any problems.”

  Severus took the bottle and held it against the light with a scrutinizing look. “Excellent work,” he said and watched her face through the glass. 

  For a moment she looked as if she were annoyed. Then her expression softened. “Thank you.”

  Severus nodded. She turned around and went back into the house. He observed her thoughtfully. Did she long for freedom as well?

  He wasn't quite sure whether the potion was doing what it was supposed to do. Instead of strange dreams now images, voices, and emotions were spinning around and through him, he wasn't able to distinguish anything or match it with any particular situation. And all of this felt like tedious work. When he woke up he felt more exhausted than when he'd gone to sleep. 

  In the last two days, he'd slept in most inappropriate places at most inappropriate times, once shortly after lunch in the parlour. When he'd woken up he'd spotted Granger sitting in the armchair opposite of him, staring out of the window. His mouth was open and he closed it quickly. Still, Granger didn't notice him being awake. 

  He'd wanted to make her aware of him but then he saw the tear leaking from the corner of her eye. Granger just let it happen. It trickled across her temple, past her ear, towards her chin. It faded eventually. 

  Then another one followed the old trace and dropped from her chin onto her T-shirt. Granger sniffled quietly and wiped her face. 

  Severus closed his eyes and pretended to still be asleep. With a closed mouth.

  “Is it normal that my sleep is anything but restful with this potion?” he asked when they were sitting at breakfast the next morning. 

  “Yes, it is. You don't experience restful phases of sleep with the potion, you constantly relive memories. It is normal you are so tired throughout the day.”

  “What a comfort,” he drawled. 

  She shrugged her shoulders apologetically. “But since you are mentioning it … I'd like to watch you tonight.”

  “What for?” Her watching him sleep was more annoying than uncomfortable; after all, she'd caught him at it several times throughout the last days. But at night in his room, he wanted to be left alone. It was the only privacy he had.

  “I want to see whether the single components of the potion are correctly calculated. By now, the potion should have taken full effect.” Granger reached for the jar of jam and spread it onto her bread. 

  “That's what you want to stay up the whole night for?

  She shrugged again, only with one shoulder this time. “It's my job.”

  Severus twisted his mouth. “If you have to … But don't expect me to put on pyjamas for you.”

  Granger stared at him, her mouth open. Then she swallowed. “A nightshirt will do,” she said.

  “I don't own nightshirts,” he said silkily. He'd burned his fingers going the sexual path once already but it was a treat seeing Granger unsettled. If only for a moment.

  Then she rolled her eyes. “Do you think I've never seen a naked man before?”

  Severus raised his eyebrows. “Well, I do hope there wasn't one of your former teachers amongst them.”

  She blushed, avoiding his gaze.

  He leaned onto the table. “Miss Granger! There is more to you than meets the eye.”

  She mimicked him and observed him challengingly. “A lot more!” She held his gaze for long seconds. 

  Eventually, Severus snorted. 

  “I will be in your room tonight, whether you're wearing pyjamas or not.” With these words, she folded up her slice of bread and took a hearty bite so the jam oozed out on the sides. 

  Severus preferred not to answer this announcement and returned to his apple.

  When Granger knocked at his door this evening, Severus was just buttoning up his pyjama top. He'd never intended to sleep naked while she was watching him – although he did so every now and then. After sleeping in Hogwarts' dungeons for decades, bedrooms above the ground often were too warm for him to feel comfortable. And this one all the more! But not too warm to sleep naked in front of her.

  She sighed with relief when he opened the door. “Oh good, you are dressed.”

  “Indeed,” he countered smirking.

  “Are you ready to start?”

  “Almost.” His gaze fell onto the huge book and the notepad in her arms. “You are ready as well, as it seems.”

  “Absolutely.”

  He stepped aside and let her in. The vial with the potion was standing on the bedside cabinet and a flickering candle was lit on the table. Granger put her books down beside it and draped a cardigan over the backrest of the chair. He had no clue what she needed it for considering how warm it was. “I'll be right back,” he said and pointed at the bathroom door. She nodded.

  In the delicate silence of the bathroom, Severus sighed before he brushed his teeth. He still avoided looking at his reflection in the mirror. And if he couldn't avoid it, for example when shaving, he focused on one part of his face exclusively. Never on his eyes though. He didn't want to see them. 

  Eventually, he rinsed his mouth and cleaned his face. After he'd used the toilet, he returned to his room. Granger had already sat down at the table and opened her book. She'd scribbled down some notes on her pad that he tried to decipher over her shoulder without her noticing.

  “It's none of your business, sir.”

  Severus rolled his eyes but he didn't say anything. He went to his bed, took the potion, and laid down. “Have a good night, Miss Granger.”

  “And you,” she mumbled.

  Then Severus turned off his light so only a faint glow was reaching him from the table. For a few minutes, he watched Granger's trembling shadow on the wall, then he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

  Severus was tied up. So firmly he couldn't even move his pinky. He didn't know how he'd come here so suddenly. Just now he'd been surrounded by whirling images and voices he couldn't understand. He'd been tossed about between this memory and that, just as he experienced it every night since he started taking Granger's potion. But this? This was new.

  He struggled against his manacles, his heart leaping frantically. He'd never pinioned him so firmly! Torture wasn't any fun if the victim wasn't able to move. If it wasn't able to scream or squirm. If it wasn't able to beg for mercy.

  Why wasn't he able to move?

  He couldn't breathe. There was no air! He needed to breathe!

  “Professor Snape!”

  There! There was a voice he could hear. Clear amongst all of the whirling scraps of conversations around him, clear above the thrumming of his heartbeat. He tried to focus on this voice.

  “You have to wake up. Now!”

  Wake up? Oh, right. This was a dream. He was sleeping. Granger. It was her voice. She tried to wake him up.

  Severus forced himself to follow her voice. He concentrated on it so much he didn't understand what she was saying anymore. He only listened to the sound of her voice and followed it. It felt like he was resurfacing from deep water. Eventually, he opened his eyes.

  “Finite incantatem!” Granger said as soon as she noticed his awakening.

  The manacles he'd thought to feel disappeared. Severus slumped, breathing heavily, and ran his hands across his face. He sat up, putting his feet on the cool ground. “What was that?” he panted.

  “You were moving so much that you were in danger of harming yourself. I had to cast a Full Body-Bind Curse on you to be able to get closer to you. I'm sorry.”

  Severus swallowed. His heart was still beating so violently that he barely was able to breathe. His fingers were tingling. He closed his eyes and clenched his lips, just breathing. His face was burning, he covered it with his hands. He wished she would go away but she would hardly leave him alone like this. Why was she still here? Why had she put him in this position?!

  He had just to breathe, it would pass, all of this would pass … 

  After a few minutes, he had regained some control over his body. He slowly dropped his hands and looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Don't you dare do that ever again,” he whispered.

  Granger swallowed. “I am sorry.”

  “Never - again!”

  She flinched. “Never again! I promise!” she repeated wide-eyed.

  Severus wiped his eyes. His whole body seemed to quiver, he felt exhausted and sapped. “Talk,” he said in a deep voice.

  “What?” He seemed to have rattled her deeply.

  “The potion, Miss Granger. Your intervention. Explain it to me!”

  “Oh! But of course.” She shook her head as if she first had to get her thoughts into their right places. “As I said, you moved fervently. If it has been like this every time you took the potion I'm surprised you didn't already harm yourself. I have to adjust the ingredients, I must dose the muscle relaxant higher. How about the dreams? Are they clear memories?”

  “No,” he growled and swivelled his head on his neck. He should kick her out. Why had he ever agreed to be her patient? Rage was bubbling in his stomach, he had a hard time facing her. “Everything is mixed up. I'm unable to see or hear anything clearly.”

  “That isn't right either,” she mumbled and crossed out something on her pad, scribbling something beside it. “I'll adjust that as well and prepare a new mixture first thing tomorrow.”

  Severus nodded slowly. “Is that all then?”

  She swallowed again. “Yes, that's all.” She closed her book, put the notepad on top of it, and pressed both against her chest. Then she was standing in front of him. “I am really sorry, professor. It wasn't my intention to … put you in this position.”

  Severus closed his eyes. “I know,” he said. He heard her cross and leave his room. When she'd closed the door he went over to the bathroom and opened the tap. The cold water running over his arms was soothing, so much so that he sprayed it in his face as well. But this gross feeling lingered.

Chapter Text

  The next morning, Severus needed a shower of approximately half an hour and several temperature switches, hot to cold and back again, and still he didn't feel awake. He growled. To hell with normal! Nothing about this kind of sleep was normal.

  While he got dressed, he decided to take Granger's potion during the day from now on. And at night he would sleep. In an indeed normal way!

  He was greeted with silence when he descended the stairs. The kitchen was empty, the parlour was as well. But then he noticed noises from the basement and headed to the door. He regretted opening it almost instantly, though. Sticky, humid heat billowed against his face. He took a step back and wrinkled his nose. Hadn't this woman ever heard of air-refreshing charms? How was she able to work down there? He went downstairs and as expected, it only got worse. When he was at the foot of the stairs he felt as if a pillow was pressed to his face. 

  Granger, however, didn't seem to notice what she was doing to herself and the potion. She didn't even look up from her work. Severus went straight to her wand lying on the table since he still hadn't got a new one so far; apparently, his needs weren't very high up the list of priorities. He almost got ahold of it when she suddenly grabbed his hand. 

  “What are you planning to do?” She eyed him tiredly. Her skin was pallid and sweaty, her brown eyes fever-bright.

  “Oxygen, Miss Granger. The air is so thick you could cut it with a knife.” He held her challenging gaze and eventually, she let go. With a swift flick of her wand, he cast the charm and a cool breeze swept through the lab. Severus took a deep breath. Granger did the same but she tried to hide it from him.

  He put her wand back and watched her work. His knowledge about medical potions had been quite up-to-date until two years ago and since Poppy had relied on him, he'd always been mindful to keep it that way, albeit with little enthusiasm. He'd never been particularly fond of the medical branch of potions. Only the Wolfsbane Potion had fascinated him; brewing it was big enough a challenge to appeal to him - so long as he didn't have to do it for Remus Lupin, bugger that he was. For him, he'd always brewed it as nasty-tasting as possible without it losing its effect or killing him. 

  Be that as it may … What Granger was brewing now he didn't recognise. He didn't know this combination of ingredients and had hardly ever witnessed such an extreme generation of heat and moisture with a potion. Perhaps it was the new version of the potion she'd coaxed him to try. Whatever it was, he was quite sure it was her own development and that oddly pleased him. 

  Granger put the silver-handled knife away and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She raised herself on tiptoes to be able to peer into the simmering cauldron, stirred the potion and scooped some of it just to let it dribble back slowly. Her nose twitched. “What can I do for you, sir?” she asked then and cast him a glance.

  “Nothing. I just wanted to let you know that I have decided to take your potion during the day. I need sleep. Normal sleep,” he said and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

  She looked at him. “Good call! Then I can monitor you through the day.”

  His lip curled slightly. “That was not what I meant.”

  “I know.” She rolled her eyes. “What about this: You let me monitor you every now and then and I'll brew you a potion that will deepen the intensity of your nightly sleep. More rest in less time. So you at least have some hours of the day to yourself.” She lifted the board she'd chopped some herbs on and scraped them into the cauldron with the back edge of her knife. 

  He narrowed his eyes. “Would that potion be another one of your developments?”

  “Yes.” She bit the inside of her cheek and eyed him, apparently unsure whether she should tell him more about it.

  “I assume you haven't had a lot of time for rest lately?” he offered in conciliation. 

  “I'm fine.” She averted her gaze and stirred the potion. 

  Severus frowned. Something about her evading her own problems rubbed him the wrong way. It was so blatantly obvious that she – as much as himself – at least had difficulty sleeping. The dark circles under her eyes hadn't lightened since their arrival here. “Can I be of help with the preparation?” he eventually asked.

  She scrutinized him warily. “Aren't you too tired?”

  “Not more than you are.”

  She blushed and looked away. “I'm not tired.”

  “Of course, you aren't,” he replied silkily. “Well, can I be of help?”

  She briefly closed her eyes and pursed her lips. “No,” she finally said. “I work better on my own.”

  He nodded carefully. “I will keep that in mind.”

  When she looked at him, their gazes locked. There was some kind of apology in her eyes he hadn't seen for more than two years. Then he turned around and went upstairs. Halfway up he called, “Remember to refresh the air every now and then, Miss Granger! Your brain needs oxygen!”

  Approximately an hour later he heard her leave the lab. He'd sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a book and took some notes.

  Potions had always been an escape for him but even more so in the last years. Whenever he'd needed a break from Death Eaters, espionage, hate against Muggleborns and destruction he'd thought about potions. He'd made plans, both for new developments and optimisations of known potions. He'd just lacked the time of realising them. But he'd written down everything on the off chance he'd find some time in the future. Now, this chance had come.

  When her footsteps drew nearer he closed his black leather-clad notebook and took another sip of his coffee. It was almost cold and he grimaced.

  Granger put a small vial on the table. “That's the new potion. Dosage stays the same.” Then she put a second vial beside it. “When you're finished with the first phase, the potion won't drag you to sleep any longer. As soon as that happens you will take this potion. The whole vial.” And a third one. “The sleeping potion for the nights. Not more than one tablespoon.”

  Severus raised both of his eyebrows when his gaze wandered from the vials up to her face. “I hope there isn't any Scutellaria in the sleeping potion?” he inquired. 

  She rolled her eyes yet again! “Of course not. Madam Pomfrey did note your allergy in your file. As you should be aware, otherwise wouldn't have given you the Draught of Living Death the other night but the Dreamless Sleep Potion.”

  Severus smirked. “Of course.”

  Granger looked at the clock. “It is still quite early. You could start reprocessing your memories today.”

  He followed her gaze and twisted his mouth. “Yes,” he muttered. “Give me a few minutes.”

  “Sure.” She already wanted to leave but then she changed her mind. “Is it … um … Is it okay if I look in on you every now and then?”

  Severus arched an eyebrow. “Why the sudden interest in my consent?”

  She blushed. “After you'd left I noticed that I've probably been a bit brisk.”

  “Probably …” he repeated and enjoyed her squirming for a moment. Then he got serious again and said, “If I leave the door to my room ajar you are allowed to look in on me. If it is closed, you're not.”

  A brief smile crossed her face. “Okay. Thank you!” Then she turned and left the kitchen. He heard her going upstairs. 

  Severus stayed at the table for a few more minutes, poured the now entirely cold coffee into the sink, took his books and the vials, and left for his room. There he stood then, his hand on the door handle, pondering for three, four, five heartbeats what to do. He left it standing open a fraction when he turned away.

  He put the books away, lined the vials on his bedside cabinet and took off his shoes. Finally, he laid on the bed for several minutes, unmoving, and stared at the ceiling until he was ready to give the potion another try. 

  He reached for the vial with the modified version and the tablespoon, took a dose, and sank back into the pillows with closed eyes.

  Lucius was in a worryingly good mood when he entered the room, flooding it with light so unexpectedly that Severus pinched his eyes shut. “Severus!” he called out and removed his gloves one finger at a time. “Forgive me the delay. I had some business to attend to …”

  Severus snorted. He didn't know how many days had passed since Lucius had taken him captive but his face didn't hurt that much anymore so it must have been a few. A few days in complete darkness. A few days with little water and even less food. A few days in which he had created a sanctuary in his mind that by now felt more real than what was happening in reality. 

  “Stand up, Severus,” Lucius said at that very moment. He was standing three steps away from him, arms crossed in front of his chest, wand in his hand. 

  Severus looked at him but made no move to follow the instruction. The grey eyes bored into his; was Lucius really trying to use Legilimency on him? A laugh bubbled up in Severus's throat, he was barely able to swallow it. 

  “Do you want me to force you?”

  “Do what you got to do,” Severus commented. He would suffer either way, if not because of this then because of something else. Nothing would keep him from being tortured. 

  Lucius's eyes twitched. “Crucio!”

  Fuck! No! Nonononono!

  The curse felt like it bathed him in acid. Burning acid! Each and every bone in his body seemed to break, his limbs were jerking erratically. He screamed, even though he didn't want to. Everything was sinking, slipping away from him, fading. There was only pain.

  Stop, stop! Please … stop … 

  Severus screamed even when there wasn't any air left in his lungs. The pain, although he knew it, was worse than everything he'd ever witnessed. Every nerve in his body was in flames. He curled, grabbed his head, his arms. Clawed his fingers in the ground until his nails cracked. He couldn't handle this, it ripped him apart, this pain was shattering him!

  Stop it!

  Please!

  And then it stopped. He collapsed panting, tasted blood on his tongue. His heart was thumping so loudly that he was hardly able to understand Lucius's words. “Will you stand up now, Severus?”

  He huffed, struggled to get up on all fours and from there onto his trembling legs. Then he lifted his gaze, looked at Lucius. “Happy now?”

  “Very much so!” He smirked and strolled through the bare room. “In the last few days, I thought a lot about what I should do with you. You disobeyed the Dark Lord. You spied on us for years, betrayed us to Dumbledore. You meddled with my memory … What do you think, Severus, should I do with you?”

  Severus crossed his arms. The Cruciatus Curse still echoed through his body, his muscles were twitching. And yet … “Order of Merlin, first class, I would imagine.”

  Lucius laughed, then he got serious again and turned around. “You should be careful lest your sarcasm will kill you someday.”

  Severus arched his eyebrows. “It wasn't my sarcasm that brought me here.”

  “No,” Lucius admitted. “And I won't be the one to kill you. At least … not any time soon.” His gaze made Severus's flesh crawl. Then he started moving again, pacing through the room. “Be that as it may … I think we should tend to the Dark Mark first. You don't deserve to carry this mark of honour.”

  “You can't remove the Mark, Lucius.”

  He smiled. “Yes, so they say. But I never tried. Did you?”

  “No,” Severus muttered. While they were talking about it he could almost sense a tingling in his left forearm. He tensed his muscles. 

  “So this will be exciting for both of us.” Lucius twitched his wand again and Severus was hurled against the wall behind him, unable to move. “And since I have you here already you could also answer a few questions about the Order, don't you think?”

  Severus snorted. He was able to speak, as he noticed. “You prohibited my every contact with the Order in the last two years, Lucius. I don't know anything about this organisation anymore.”

  Lucius clicked his tongue. “We'll see about that. But for now …” Severus's left arm sprawled out straight, he could do nothing to stop it. Lucius drew nearer, his gaze fixed on the Mark. “The Dark Lord gave this Mark to us as a sign of his appreciation and trust. On it, we swore loyalty until death.” He looked him in the eyes again.

  “Where was your loyalty when you chickened out of Azkaban after his first downfall, Lucius?”

  “Crucio!”

  Fire!

  Acid!

  PAIN!

  It had to stop!

  His muscles were twitching, seizing!

  PLEASE!

  Over.

  Severus groaned, exhaling sharply through his clenched teeth. His heart was beating against his ribs.

  “Where were we?” Lucius pondered and tapped his lips. “Ah, yes! Loyalty. It was the only thing the Dark Lord demanded from us. Do you understand me, Severus?”

  Severus regarded him with squinted eyes. “Yes, Lucius, I understand you.”

  “Good.” He put the tip of his wand on Severus's forearm and heat shot into his skin.

  Fire!

  This time for real.

  The skin went red right before his eyes, then it blistered, finally it burst.

  Severus clenched his teeth so hard they crunched. He wouldn't scream again. This wasn't as bad as the Cruciatus. He would not scream!

  No. He would leave. Just leave.

  And with this thought, he seemed to exit his body. The basement around him sank and Severus entered the lab. “Severus!” Master Dendron greeted him, the old face shining with excitement. “Nice to have you back again. Here you are safe.”

  Severus floated up from the depth of reprocessing this memory. His arm was burning as if it were on fire again but the pain subsided gradually, a little more with every throbbing heartbeat. It was over, it was in the past. This thought echoed in him, even when he sank back down into the next memory.

  “Good evening, Severus,” Lucius said when he entered the basement again sometime later. 

  Severus hadn't seen him for quite a while. But he'd had other guests. Avery had been here, Rookwood … He didn't remember them all that clearly anymore. They'd asked him questions. Many, many questions. He'd answered none of them. There wasn't a lot he could do for the Order anymore but that … that he could do. Because even if he'd told them everything they'd wanted to know they wouldn't have stopped torturing him. There was no way out of this for him. No hope. No real hope that was. There was only his imagined lab and he had used it. 

  They'd put him in chains at some point. Chains, that were dangling from the ceiling in the middle of the room. The iron cuffs were tight around his wrists. When he was alone, the chains were long enough for him to crouch down on the ground, his arms stretched high in the air. When they visited him, they hoisted him up on them. Lucius hadn't done that yet, though.

  They'd also stripped him. All of them liked to see the wounds they'd caused him. And they loved to humiliate him in every way possible.

  “How is your arm?” Lucius inquired and gained his attention. 

  He looked up at him, his eyes only half-open. “Splendid,” he mumbled.

  “Well, it seems you have been provided with entertainment while I was away.” Lucius approached him, walked around Severus and tilted his head when he'd returned to the front again. “You look splendid indeed!” He said it in a voice as if Severus had just returned from summer vacation. 

  “What do you want, Lucius? Remind me to enjoy my stay?” Severus asked hoarsely, coughed and straightened up as much as his aching muscles let him. 

  Lucius shook his head. “No. I take that for granted.” With his wand, he drew a chair in the air that turned around itself a few times before it fell to the ground with a loud bang. Then he sat down and crossed his legs, one knee above the other. “I thought we'd have a little movie night.”

  Severus narrowed his eyes. He knew what movies were but he was surprised that Lucius knew. The Wizarding World had never thought it necessary to indulge in such forms of entertainment. Stories were told, written down or presented on a stage but he doubted that was what Lucius meant. 

  As if he'd seen the questions on Severus's face Lucius took a little flask from his pocket, unstoppered it and used his wand again to lift a white shimmering thread from it. It stretched horizontally in the air and a scene rose from it, equally white shimmering. 

  Severus saw himself and Hermione Granger, alone in his lab at Hogwarts. He vaguely remembered that evening. They'd been in an exhausting phase of experimenting and had both been on edge and tired. 

  “I think you remember this evening, Severus?” Lucius eyed him while asking this question. He nodded, drawing his bent legs closer against his naked body. 

  Where did he get this memory from? Did he take it from Severus's mind? Did they use Legilimency on him without him noticing it? To steal this memory? He'd retreated so far into his imagination and for such a long time that he wasn't able to rule out this possibility. 

  Or did they take it from … from her?

  Severus closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and forcing his heartbeat to slow down. 

  The dungeon door was thrown open in the memory and Severus looked back up. Lucius stepped into the lab. Severus saw himself slightly shifting his position to hide some ingredients from the other man's gaze. Lucius wasn't skilled with potions by any means but he did possess some basic knowledge. And these ingredients had been telltale. 

  “Has nobody taught you manners, Lucius?” he heard his own, then still strong voice. 

  For the first time, he had the chance to see Granger at this moment. She watched them with her head bowed and kept on preparing her ingredients. She'd just flinched when Lucius had entered the lab. But her hand clasped the knife in a vice-like grip. 

  “Certainly more than you could ever forget,” Lucius replied and peered past Severus at Granger. “What is she doing here?”

  Severus cast her a quick glance over his shoulder. “Internship.”

  “You offer internships to former students? A Mudblood at that?”

  Here he saw Granger briefly closing her eyes. “Believe me, Lucius, it was not my choice,” he heard himself say. “What do you want from me?”

  “I'm looking for my son.”

  Even today Severus could hardly repress a snort. Admittedly, Draco had done an 'internship' at Hogwarts as well; Albus had still harboured the unreasonable hope that he could dissuade him from the Death Eater's path. But he'd been under the aegis of Filius and the dungeons had not been part of his domain.

  “As you see, I'm alone with the Mudblood,” Severus said in the memory.

  “Indeed,” Lucius mumbled and eyed Granger warily. 

  “So, could you continue your search somewhere else please and tell your son he mustn't forget the report he has to hand in to Filius tomorrow? He asked me again to take Draco to task.”

  Lucius's gaze snapped back to Severus. A few faint wrinkles appeared on the bridge of his nose. “I will tell him.” Then he drew up his robe in front of his body, turned around and left the lab. 

  Severus watched himself close the door not without looking down the corridor after Lucius. Then he returned to the table without saying another word and continued his work. He let nothing show but Severus remembered how much he had quarrelled with himself. 

  Eventually, he swallowed and said in a low voice, “I am sorry.”

  Granger paused and looked up at him. “Never mind,” she replied in an equally soft voice and after a mechanical nod from Severus, she lapsed into silence again. 

  The memory ended there and Lucius directed the white shimmering thread back into the flask. “Touching!” he jeered and stood up to walk around Severus again. “You must know, Severus, I often wondered what was going on between you and her. Did you fuck her?”

  Severus snorted due to this word from Lucius's mouth. Normally, he was above using such vulgar language. Therefore and because Lucius already knew the answer he didn't say anything.

  “Crucio!”

  Fuck! No!

  Severus screamed, he just couldn't prevent it from happening. His body wasn't his anymore, the pain was ruling it. It made him twitch and squirm. It made him stand up halfway only to topple down to the ground again. It reduced Severus's world to agony. There was only pain. He couldn't bear it any longer! It had to stop!

  “Stop it!”

  And it did. He panted, spots were dancing before his eyes.

  Lucius smiled. “Did you, Severus?”

  “No,” he gasped huskily. His legs were trembling.

  Lucius twisted his face as if he hadn't seen that coming. “All of this … for nothing? How pathetic …” He sat down again. “I could have noticed so much earlier that you were playing for the wrong team.”

  Severus snorted. “Yeah …” The gaze that met his eyes made him freeze inwardly but he returned it indifferently.

  Lucius plucked some lint from his robe. “I'd just have to show you images like this …” He took another flask from his pocket and this time, he lifted a black thread from it to unfold in the air. It was a fictional memory.

  But it was so detailed, so real, that Severus had difficulty not forgetting about it. He saw Granger, naked and equally as maltreated as he himself was right now. Several Death Eaters were circling her, raping her, torturing her. She screamed. And for a moment, she seemed to look straight at Severus. He averted his eyes. 

  “… and watch your reaction to them,” Lucius finished his sentence with a smug voice. Severus looked at him, his eyes narrowed. “I still know your weakness, Severus. It never changed. You simply found yourself another Mudblood.”

  In a reality several months later Severus tore his eyes open. The room was dark and when his breathing had calmed down he looked over at the window. The sun had set, the potion had done its work for today.

  He sat up with relief and stood a few seconds later. He left his room, weak-kneed, searching for purchase at the walls, and crossed the hall. He stopped in front of Granger's door. 

  First, he only laid his hand against the wood, then he glided it down to the doorknob and twisted it quietly. The door slid into the room without making a sound. He looked at her bed. Granger had wrapped her sheets around herself in spite of the heat, her legs drawn up to her body and one hand tugged underneath her face. She was laying on her side, her back to the door, and was fast and soundly asleep for a change.

  Severus watched her for a while and felt himself calm down. It was okay. She was okay. The memory hadn't been real.

  Eventually, he wandered back into his room and closed the door behind him. He undressed, laid down again and took a tablespoon of the sleeping potion. A pleasant heaviness instantly spread inside of him. He sank back into the pillows and let himself be swept away by sleep.

Chapter Text

  It was still dark when Severus woke up. Granger hadn't promised too much; he'd only slept for a few hours and yet he felt well-rested. He dressed and went to the kitchen to have a bite. The absolute silence was like cotton wool in his ears; no matter how hard he listened, there was no sound apart from his steps. It was about three o'clock in the morning and Granger was asleep or at least staying in her room. It almost was as if he was alone in this house. 

  When he sat at the table with two slices of toast and a cup of coffee his thoughts wandered back to the memories he'd reprocessed yesterday. Lucius's words echoed in his ears. “You simply found yourself another Mudblood.” He wrinkled his nose. 

  He didn't hold the same feelings for Granger that he'd held for Lily. But there was an element of truth in this sentiment. There were more parallels between Lily and Granger than their parentage. They were both intelligent and strong-willed Gryffindors. They'd both chosen a partner not fit to hold a candle to them in any way. He'd had a more or less friendly basis with both of them. And lost it. They both disliked what kind of person he was. 

  There was only one aspect Lucius had been wrong about: Nothing about it was simple.

  Severus chewed on his toast. Lucius had tried to torture him with fictional memories several times after this first encounter but Severus had refused to let that happen. He'd left every single time. Had gone back to the lab, back to Master Dendron. When he'd woken up in his cell after the last time his back had been in shreds and Lucius hadn't bothered visiting him again for a while. 

  Severus blinked and tore himself from his musings. He had a few hours for himself now. A good opportunity to spend some time in the lab, the real one in the basement, until he had to face the next memories. 

  Severus only noticed that he wasn't alone anymore when the chains tightened and hoisted his sore body up. The iron cuffs chafed deeper into the galled skin of his wrists, almost tearing it from his bones. He staggered to his feet while he tried to stay away mentally but he didn't succeed. 

  The pain overwhelmed him when he was fully conscious again. He almost blacked out, groaned and tasted bile in the back of his throat. His heart pounded in his ears as if it tried to rip his skull apart. His vision cleared only slowly. 

  He blinked. Blond hair. Something inside him collapsed. Then he noticed that this blond hair was shorter than Lucius's. Draco. 

  He stood in front of him frowning. “Where are you when you are not … here?” he asked pensively. Apparently, he'd watched him for some time. 

  Severus tried to swallow. His mouth was so dry his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth. Draco approached him with a bottle of water. He held the neck to Severus's lips and let him drink. Water dripped to the ground, ran down his mouth and his chest. He choked on it, coughed. “What are you doing here?” he then asked in a husky voice. 

  “Aren't you happy to see me, sir?”

  Severus didn't reply. No, he wasn't happy. Draco was here either to torture him like all of his other visitors so far, or he would try to help him and risk his life in doing so. In either case, he would do something Severus had sworn to save him from. 

  “Yes, I thought so,” Draco mumbled. He pointed his wand at the empty bottle in his hand and transformed it into a metal rod that immediately started incandescing in a bright red. Severus swallowed. “I'm not happy seeing you here either.” Very quiet. 

  “Draco …”

  “No.” He took a step to the side. “Just listen.”

  Severus staggered. His legs refused to carry his weight but if his legs didn't do it his wrists had to and he didn't know for how much longer he'd be able to endure it. He wanted to return to the lab. Didn't want to endure being in this body any longer.

  “I knew you were Dumbledore's spy for a long time. And I thought you'd get me out of this madness.” He squatted down alongside Severus's left leg. Severus had to twist his head until his neck cracked to be able to see him.

  And then he could feel him. Not Draco, but the metal rod. Severus's leg twitched when he burned the skin with it. 

  “Don't move!” Draco hissed and grabbed his ankle. Then he proceeded. Dot after dot, singe after singe. “I guess it wasn't planned that Father learned about what you were doing. I'm sorry I spoiled your plans, sir.”

  Severus's heart leaped. “What are you talking about?” he asked hoarsely. 

  Draco looked up at him. “This memory Father showed you … the real memory … He took it from me. I've been in the lab. I am sorry.” Then he averted his gaze and continued. One dot, two, three more.

  But the pain was taking a backseat right now. How was that possible? How could Draco have been in the lab without them noticing? But the question about how it had been possible was quickly replaced by another one. “Why?”

  “I wanted to know what you were doing with Granger down there every evening. I mean, I knew you were Dumbledore's spy but … I wanted to know how far you were going with her. If you … you know.”

  Yes, he knew. Severus arched an eyebrow. “Must have been a bitter disappointment.”

  “Indeed, it was,” Draco admitted.

  They kept silent for a few minutes and Severus tried to ignore what Draco was doing with his leg. “Did Lucius send you here?” he asked to distract himself from the pain. 

  “No. He didn't even want to let me go. Had to coax him.”

  “Why are you here? Want to take revenge?”

  Draco stood up so fast Severus flinched. “Is that what you think about me, sir?” he hissed.

  Severus blinked. “No.”

  Draco wrinkled his nose. “Good.” Then he returned to what he was doing. “I almost had to beg Father to get here on my own. I couldn't have done this with him watching.” 

  Severus grabbed the chains above him to pull himself up on them while the trembling of his legs worsened. It felt like Draco was burning his skin down to his bones. He could feel the pain in his thigh, it even let him curl his toes until they went into spasms. 

  “What is this?”, he inquired when he'd regained control over his body and the pain at least to a certain degree.

  Draco didn't reply. A few minutes later, he put the rod aside, drew his wand from his sleeve instead and began intoning a spell Severus didn't know. A tingling sensation rushed through his body, a magical wave, and part of his pain vanished. His mind cleared, his dizziness subsided. “This,” Draco said right into this experience.

  He lengthened the chains and Severus sank onto the ground until he could bend his leg and see what Draco had done. The singes looked like a constellation. Severus narrowed his eyes and twisted his head, then his brain understood the pattern. A wildcat. A tiger? No. A panther. It was a panther.

  He snorted. “I'd have expected a snake.”

  “Too simple.” The boy made another gesture with his wand and the burned dots spread across Severus's body. Surprised by so much pain in so many different areas, Severus gasped. “I regret I can't let the mark stay intact. It is too conspicuous.”

  “What is it for?” Severus asked.

  Draco didn't look at him when he said, “It will keep you alive. Only barely and a Killing Curse will still kill you. But it will keep Father or one of the others from … killing you by accident.”

  Severus closed his eyes. That was the last thing he wanted. Staying alive unnecessarily long only to be tortured. “What for?” he implored bitterly.

  “I won't let you die. Not like this. Not here. Somebody will get you out of here.”

  Severus blinked. “Who?”

  “The Order. Somebody has to look for you. I will figure out who it is.”

  Severus stared up at him. “Don't risk your life for me, Draco! Get yourself out of harm's way.”

  “I try!” He swallowed, drawing his hand across his pale face. “I know you wanted to save me from all of this. I didn't understand …” He grimaced. “Now it is too late. Father would kill me before he'd let me go.” He eyed Severus. “I try to get both of us out of here, sir. So … hang on!”

  Severus closed his eyes, nodding.

  “I'm afraid I have to … hurt you somehow, sir. I have to show Father -”

  “I know,” Severus interrupted him. “Just do it.”

  At this point in the memory, Severus fought against the resistance of the potion to get out of his sleep. He needed a break. Now!

  It took him long minutes and when he finally cast his eyes open, the room was spinning around him. He was sweating, panting, staggered to his feet and stumbled to the door. He needed several attempts to find the doorknob, then he finally succeeded and tore it open so brusquely that the door crashed against the wall. 

  Black lines narrowed his field of vision, the potion tried to drag him back. He held his left hand against the wall, the right on the handrail, and still, the stairway seemed to move. The potion was strong, the muscle relaxant made him wobbly like a puppet on a string. He had great difficulty staying on his feet and almost rushed down the stairs when his foot slipped at the edge of one of the steps.

  The noise he caused brought Granger to the scene. She burst out of the parlour startled and gaped at him utterly lost for words. But then she found a few. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Severus staggered again and she grabbed his arm. “Stop it! Now!” he panted.

  “Stop what?”

  “The potion! I need to … talk!” He sank onto the last step wide-eyed and leaned his head against a bar of the railing. 

  She kneed down in front of him. “Stopping the effect of the potion is really unpleasant. Are you sure it can't wait a few more hours? I won't run away.”

  He struggled to fix his gaze on her face. Everything was swaying and blurring. Through the cotton wool in his head, he was barely able to hear himself think. “I am sure, Miss Granger.” He swallowed, briefly closing his eyes. But then he instantly drifted back to sleep and so he tore them open again. “Do it!”

  She huffed displeasedly but then she nodded. “Okay. Stay here. I have to brew the antidote. Won't take long.” She stood and left him alone.

  Severus trained his eyes on the corner of the rug in the hall. It was the sheer force of will that kept him from falling asleep again because he knew if he didn't make it until Granger returned she would not wake him. He had to … hang on!

  Approximately a quarter of an hour later he pinched his eyes closed when Granger led him into the parlour. His head was throbbing, he could literally see the pain. A spot of flickering colours was dancing right before his eyes and blurred his vision. “Too bright!” he groaned.

  “I warned you …” she said and leaned him against the door frame before she muttered a spell. 

  Severus blinked. The room was darkened now. “Thank you for the reminder,” he growled. This pain was worse than a Friday afternoon at Hogwarts. Even worse than a one-hour monologue of the Dark Lord! But not worse than Crucio. At least.

  He sank onto the settee, resting his head against the back, and closed his eyes. He couldn't see a lot through this flickering anyway. But he heard Granger sitting down as well and since the settee didn't move he assumed she'd chosen the armchair again. 

  “How are you, sir?” she piped. 

  “Splendid,” he mumbled. He just wished for his heart to stop beating so this throbbing would stop.

  “Well, what is so urgent it can't wait until tonight?”

  Severus grimaced blinking. “Would it be possible for you to speak more quietly? Your voice has an unbearable frequency …”

  Granger snorted. Then she stood up, walked over to the cupboard and returned with a bottle of Firewhisky and a tumbler. “Drink!” she prompted him in a whisper but in return, she put down the bottle with such a loud bang Severus flinched. 

  “How would that be of help?” he grumbled when the tides of pain had subsided again. 

  “You won't know what caused the headache anymore,” she dead-panned.

  He arched an eyebrow. Still, he reached for the alcohol, poured himself generously and took a big gulp of it. Even if it wouldn't be of help regarding his headache – it would surely be of help in dealing with Granger.

  “So, what's with all the theatrics?”

  To his surprise, she'd in fact lowered the volume of her voice. “Draco Malfoy,” he said dully and emptied his glass.

  Granger swallowed. “What about him?”

  He topped himself up. “I'd like to know that from you, Miss Granger,” he said in doing so. “He visited me during my imprisonment.” 

  “I know,” she countered. 

  Severus rubbed his temple. “I had a lot of … visitors. None of them was as pleasant as him.” And as unpleasant at the same time.

  He wiped his eyes. Maybe it was pure imagination but the throbbing in his head ceased a little. Only the flickering was still there. A circle that slowly got larger. At least he was able to see Granger's face through the centre of it again.

  “What did he do?” she asked.

  “It is about what he said.”

  “And that would be?” she sighed, apparently annoyed that she had to worm it out of him like this.

  “He said he would try to get both of us out of there. That somebody would come.”

  She remained silent.

  So he asked, “Did he go to see you, Miss Granger?”

  “Obviously.”

  “When?”

  “I don't see why that matters.” She stood.

  Which Severus only noticed when she was already at the door. “Miss Granger!” he called.

  “What?” she snapped and the unbearable frequency was back in her voice. It rang in his ears. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want to know what happened to Draco Malfoy! Is he all right?”

  Granger held his gaze for a few seconds, then she sighed, braced herself at the wall with one hand and drew the other one across her face. “Draco Malfoy is dead, sir.”

  He stared at her for two, three, four seconds, then he closed his eyes. Supporting his elbows on his knees, he gritted his teeth while he forced back the burning sensation behind his eyelids. 

  Another one he hadn't been able to save. Another name on his list of failures. All the things he'd done over the years – had it even made any difference? He hadn't been able to save Potter, he hadn't been able to save Draco. He'd betrayed Lily and Narcissa as well. 

  Severus leaned back and heard that Granger was about to leave the parlour. “Miss Granger,” he held her back again. She stopped. “Tell me what has happened.” He blinked at her and saw her go rigid. 

  “Why is it important?” she asked quietly.

  “I have to know.”

  Her shoulders slumped visibly while she clenched her fists. After a few seconds, she turned around, came back to the table, filled his glass almost up to the rim with Firewhisky, and emptied it in one gulp. Then she sat down and nodded stiffly. “Fine.”

  Severus sat up, raising his eyebrows. She drank that stuff as if it was water.

  But her following words stopped him from saying something about it. “Draco … went to Professor Dumbledore, about one and half months after you'd disappeared. He offered us information.”

  “What did he want for it?” Severus asked instantly.

  Granger huffed. “You do know your Slytherins, don't you?”

  He hunched his shoulders.

  “He wanted a hideout. A place where he would be safe while the Order did the crap work. He wanted to save his arse.” She scrunched her nose and reached for the whisky again.

  Severus did the same and so his hand came to lie on hers. She looked at him, narrowed her eyes, shook his hand off and poured herself more of the alcohol.

  Severus scowled. But Granger's face was as guarded as Gringotts. No chance. “You granted him this hideout,” he, therefore, returned to the topic though and hoped she would keep speaking.

  “I didn't want to. After all, Draco'd had no doubts about his mindset under Voldemort's regime. I was sure it was a trap.”

  “But?”

  She circled her shoulders. “Professor Dumbledore wouldn't listen to me and met his conditions. Your rescue was worth the risk, he said.”

  “Go on,” he growled.

  “Professor Dumbledore,” she continued, “organised a hideout for Malfoy. He protected it with a Fidelius Charm, made himself the Secret Keeper. Malfoy had to just go there and make himself comfortable.”

  “But?” Severus inquired once more.

  “Nothing but. He got himself killed.”

  The throbbing returned. “Miss Granger, please …”

  She cleared her throat. “We worked together for a while, he told me what he knew, helped me as far as he was able to and was to back out then. I don't know why he didn't do it. He never arrived at the hideout.”

  Severus lifted his gaze. “So you don't know for certain that he is dead. He could be captured.”

  She looked him straight in the eyes. “He is dead, sir. I know it.”

  “How?”

  “Professor Dumbledore told me. If you don't trust me then at least trust him. Draco Malfoy is dead.”

  Severus closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he said and when he heard her leave this time, he let her go.

  Severus didn't know for how long he had been sitting in the parlour. Granger's spell blocked out the sunlight, he didn't even know which time of the day it was. He felt unable to move even a single muscle. As if he'd spent his last energy on accepting Draco Malfoy's death. He pinched his eyes.

  When did Draco die? Had it been directly after he'd visited him? Had he never left the Manor? Or had it happened later? Had Lucius done it himself? Had he tortured him? Or had he at least granted his son a quick death? Had Narcissa seen it?

  Severus groaned. His eyes were burning. He ran his hands across his face and stood up. No matter how late it was, he would go to sleep now. He couldn't endure this day, these emotions any longer. And he wanted to sleep for a long time. Not like last night. He didn't want to wake up in three or four hours and resume at this point. 

  So he went down to the lab and searched through the cupboard with prepared potions for the Draught of Living Death Granger had given to him the other day. He slipped it into his pocket. 

  But before he went up to his room, he turned to the kitchen. Granger sat at the table and silently looked out of the window opposite her. 

  “May I borrow your wand, Miss Granger?” he asked hollowly.

  She looked at him. “What do you want to do?”

  He briefly closed his eyes. “Nothing stupid if that is what you mean.” She arched an eyebrow. “I will tell you on occasion. Today is not the right day for more tales.”

  She scrutinised his face for a long time. Then she dropped her gaze and took her wand from her sleeve. She held it out to him with a steady hand. “I trust you, sir.”

  Severus took it. “Thank you.” He turned around and left the kitchen. 

  Arriving in his room, he unbuttoned his shirt, took off his trousers, and threw both of them across the backrest of the chair. Then he grabbed the wand and put his left leg onto the seat. Only one little burn scar was left above his ankle. 

  Severus gripped the wand harder and swayed it through the air. He groaned when every burn scar started smarting. One was at his right upper arm, another one behind his left ear. Two spots on his back hurt, three spread across his right upper thigh, one at his left calf … There were so many and he felt every single one of them. 

  With another flick of the wand, every scar went back to the place they'd been inflicted. Burning paths ripped across Severus's body, turning red shortly after. The skin above his ankle wasn't unscathed anymore now. The scars had reformed to the pattern Draco had marked him with. For the first time, he looked at the panther a little closer, felt the little dots. And decided it was good.

  He put Granger's wand aside; he'd give it back to her tomorrow. Then he took the vial and closed the curtains (the sun hadn't set yet). He went to bed and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. His head throbbed, the burn scars smarted, he was so unbelievably tired. Severus unstoppered the vial and took a sip of the sleeping potion.

Chapter Text

  Waking up from the Draught of Living Death always was – quite frankly – a disappointing experience. Severus cast his eyes open and instantly knew where he was, that he had taken this potion and why he had taken it. Those blissful seconds of confusion that normally accompanied waking up from a deep slumber just didn't happen. He sighed and ran his hands across his face when his stomach growled. 

  Yet he contemplated continuing with Granger's potion immediately. Getting up and dressed, going downstairs, eating … That was a pretty tall order considering what he was to do afterwards.

  His stomach growled again though. Severus wrinkled his nose. And got up. Got dressed. Went downstairs - just to find the kitchen half-empty. 

  Well, not half-empty. But the table was missing and the room suddenly seemed surprisingly large. Severus stood at the door for a few seconds, frozen to the spot. His brain didn't seem to know how to process that information. Then he heard something, took three steps back, and, standing in the hall again, he was able to look through the parlour out onto the terrace. There the kitchen table was. Completely set. Two chairs. And Granger. Who was looking at him.

  Severus frowned. He actually pondered whether he should go out to her or just grab a bite alone in the kitchen. He didn't feel much like having company. Or like talking.

  But then she dropped her gaze and he didn't know why it made him give in but it did. He sighed, briefly closing his eyes, and went out into the sun. 

  “Good morning,” she said. Her mood had brightened when she'd noticed him coming out.

  “Morning,” he muttered. He sat down on the vacant chair, poured himself a cup of coffee and buttered a slice of toast without looking at her. 

  She didn't say anything at first. For several minutes, there was blissful silence. But then she ruined it and asked, “How are you?”

  Severus harrumphed and reached for the bowl of scrambled eggs. 

  “You took the Draught of Living Death,” she stated. 

  He looked up at her, faltering mid-movement. A muscle beneath his left eye twitched.

  “I saw the vial when I got my wand out of your room last night. I needed it to cancel the stasis charm on my potion.”

  He twisted his mouth, looking down at the spoon in his hand. That she had entered his room without his consent displeased him. But he could hardly blame her for it. He should have returned the damned wand to her before he'd gone to bed. No, he needed his own damned wand!

  “Sir, do you have any problems with the sleeping potion I gave you?”

  “No,” he said monosyllabically. Why had he even come out? On cue, his stomach growled again. Ah, right. He put the scrambled eggs back onto the table. 

  They both kept silent for another several minutes and Severus even avoided looking at Granger. Today was one of those days … Sometimes he simply wasn't able to stand company. Perhaps it would have been more convenient for both of them if he really had just eaten a slice of toast in the kitchen and returned to his room. 

  He let his gaze wander across the table. She'd really made an effort. There was coffee and tea, milk, orange juice, toast, porridge, orange marmalade, scrambled eggs, even fresh fruits. He glanced at her. Granger was looking at the dimension barrier, her cup in her hand. The sunlight glistened on her hair.

  “Why did you prepare such a generous breakfast?” he forced himself to ask.

  She swallowed, her attention returning to the table, and shrugged. “Because I'm a nice person?”

  Severus almost choked on his coffee.

  She blushed. “Oh, come on! I'm not that bad …”

  He arched an eyebrow. 

  She frowned. “As if you were a nice person …”

  “I never claimed to be,” he retorted.

  And she rolled her damned eyes yet again!

  “You changed a great deal, Miss Granger. At least towards me.” He put his cup back.

  “I know. I …” She pursed her lips, exhaling sharply. “I'm doing my best. I am! But …” Her gaze flickered across his face. “You aren't the only one who's been through a lot.”

  “Maybe you should give your own potion a try then,” Severus suggested, and obviously, that had been a mistake since something in her face closed up visibly. 

  “Yes, maybe,” she mumbled, running her hand through her hair. “Take the breakfast as an olive branch. As long as we are here we have to get along somehow and … I'll do my best to make it as easy as possible.”

  He swallowed the snide remark crossing his mind. She might have taken a while to get to this conclusion but it wouldn't be of help to be stubborn about it now. So he nodded. “As will I.”

  “Good.” Some kind of a half-smile flashed across her face. Then she frowned as if she'd forgotten that she … He didn't know; maybe that she wasn't allowed to smile anymore. “What are you planning for today?”

  “The next memory,” he stated tersely. 

  She lowered her gaze. “Should you ever feel the need to talk about it …”

  Severus nodded. Although he'd rather bite his own tongue off than talk with Granger about the things Lucius had done to him he appreciated her offer. It must have been difficult for her to make it. “I would like to use the lab tonight,” he changed the topic.

  “Sure, no problem. Just let me know when.”

  “I will.” He finished his coffee and put his dishes together to carry them to the kitchen.

  “Just leave it. I don't have a lot to do today, I'm grateful for every kind of occupation.”

  “Thank you.” He stood up and nodded at her curtly, then he returned to the silence of his room and the next memory. Today, he closed the door.

  Severus gasped when he rose from his memories that evening. He rolled onto his side panting, pulled his legs to his chest and buried his head between his trembling arms. Bellatrix … He closed his eyes, holding his breath, then he exhaled sharply, forcing air down his lungs again. He groaned. The sick bitch had tortured him with the bloody Cruciatus Curse and the pain was following him from the memory. Not as extreme as it had been but it was an echo taking his breath away. As if his body was stuck in a vice slowly turning tighter and tighter. He could feel his heartbeat everywhere and even that hurt. 

  Severus forced himself to sit up, rubbed his hands across his face and became aware of the moisture. Had he been sweating? No. At least not only that. He snuffled. Damn.

  When he'd washed his face in the bathroom he slowly descended the stairs. Step by step. He gnashed his teeth. Wasn't it enough to go through all of this once? Did his mind and body honestly have to torment him on top of everybody else?

  Before he opened the door to the basement, he stopped briefly, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't want Granger to notice too much of this. She might indeed try to talk about it, now that she was walking on her path of peace. No, he would not let her see it. He could do it, it wasn't the first time he hid pain from others. One final time he allowed himself a quiet groan, then he turned the doorknob and went downstairs at his usual pace.

  “Good evening,” he said when he'd arrived at the foot of the stairs.

  Granger looked up from the cauldron she was bending over. Huge safety glasses were sitting on her nose, making her hazel eyes look bigger than usual. He blinked, lowering his gaze. The straps of the apron she was wearing were so long she'd wound them around her small waist and still knotted them on her back.  

  “Good evening,” she replied and took off the glasses. She wiped her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand. “I need five more minutes for the potion to be stable.”

  Severus nodded and went to the cupboard holding the ingredients. He leaned against the door frame inconspicuously, took a tray and fetched everything he would need for his own potion. Belladonna, rosemary, dragon's skin, dried forget-me-not … 

  He pushed himself off from the door frame a few minutes later and returned to the table in the middle of the room. Granger just waved her wand and cast a stasis charm at her potion – not a proper one though.

  “Use the Obtego charm, Miss Granger. It has less of a negative effect on the substances,” he said while he lined his ingredients on the table.

  “Um … thanks!” She cancelled her own charm and used his. 

  Severus cast her a glance and was surprised to see her smile. “You're welcome.”

  While Granger cleared her workspace Severus went to get the right cauldron and the tools he would need. Eventually, they stood at the table, facing each other, and Severus felt unpleasantly analysed by her scrutinising gaze. “You look tired. How's the therapy going?”

  He nodded stiffly. “Quite well I guess.”

  Granger pursed her lips. “You can take a break if you need one. You don't have to take a dose each day. It is possible to pause it for up to four days.”

  “Thank you but I want to be done with it.”

  “I see,” she murmured. “I will leave you to your work then.” She was already motioning to turn around when she remembered something. She took her wand from her sleeve and put it on the table. “In case you need it. Professor Dumbledore seems to be rather busy. Just leave it here later.” She smiled briefly.

  “Thank you.” Severus watched her leave the lab. When she'd closed the door he slowly counted to ten. Then he went to the cupboard with the prepared potions and looked for a pain-relief potion, his hands trembling so badly the vials clinked against each other.

  Severus gasped for air when another whiplash finally tore him from his imagined lab back into the basement. The returning pain rattled him, white spots were dancing before his eyes, making him sick. He couldn't stop himself from retching but it wasn't more than a little bit of bile that he spat onto the ground. 

  “There you are.”

  Severus shuddered involuntarily. Macnair.

  He stepped into Severus's field of vision. “How do you manage to zone out like that?” he asked and frowned while he scratched his head with the tip of his wand. 

  Severus swallowed, breathing heavily. Macnair had shortened the chains so much that he was barely able to reach the ground with his toes. He pivoted on the spot, had difficulty looking the coarse Death Eater in the eyes. “That … exceeds your ability of comprehension, Macnair,” he choked out.

  “Maybe,” he retorted pensively. “But luckily I don't have to understand it as long as it's me holding the wand …” He let it snap through the air and an invisible whip hit Severus across his thighs. It burned like fire, the skin bursting open, and the force of the magical whip made him twist around. 

  Severus bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood. After a few more thundering heartbeats the pain subsided enough for him to be able to speak. “I used to think the same.” He coughed.

  “Yeah, right!” Macnair called. “You have tortured as well.” A perverse grin crept onto his thin lips. “And you enjoyed it, didn't you?”

  Severus looked at him. It took him a moment to not see him twice or blurred anymore. “I was good at it,” he said hoarsely. And that was right. The Dark Lord had sent him to the prisoners every now and then when he'd needed information. Even without Veritaserum Severus had been able to get them to talk a lot faster than everyone else, most of the time with Legilimency. But enjoyed? That was the wrong word. 

  Macnair laughed huskily. “Yes, you were. Should have been more careful to stay on the right side of the chains, Snape.” He walked around him slowly. The next lash hit him right onto his buttocks. It hurt so much that Severus cried out. The pain pulsed through his body like a living being. “Tell me, did you ever torture somebody without wanting to get information?” Macnair asked conversationally.

  Severus rested his head against his arm, eyes closed, mouth ajar. He was so occupied with enduring what his body did to him that he didn't understand what Macnair was asking him at first. He had to repeat the sound of the words in his head until he managed to put them into a logical context. “No,” he finally breathed.

  A prickling sensation washed through him, luckily at a moment when Macnair wasn't looking at him. Draco's spell had been activated, had slightly healed some of the wounds. Only as much as necessary to keep him alive. Severus swallowed bitterly, twisting his face. It could have been over. He bit his lower lip to suppress a sigh. 

  “You missed something then,” Macnair said then. “You are so carefree when you don't have to repeat questions all the time. Sometimes I even forget it when I am to get answers!” He laughed his husky laugh again. 

  Severus struggled to open his eyes. “That's what I thought …” he coughed, “… that it was too hard for you to do both at the same time.”

  The tiny muscles around Macnair's eyes twitched when he looked at him. “Yes,” he growled, “it's good we don't want to know anything from you anymore, Snape.”

  Severus's heart leaped when he was hit by Macnair's gaze. The icy blue eyes were piercing through him. Now he had overstepped the mark. He swallowed, knowing that he would pay for this last remark. 

  Draco's spell saved his poor life three more times that night.

  Just like yesterday, the pain followed Severus from the memory but he could handle this one better than the echo of the Cruciatus Curse. His movements were a little bit stiff when he stepped out onto the terrace but he could cope. 

  Granger had taken some books out with her and sat cross-legged on her chair. She'd twisted her hair into a bun fixed by her wand. Still, some strands were hanging in her face that she repeatedly brushed away.

  Severus held his breath when he sat down, counting his heartbeats until the pain lessened. Then he exhaled slowly. He didn't dare lean back. 

  He noticed Granger's observing glance when he looked at her. “Tough day?”

  Severus nodded. “I had Walden Macnair over.”

  She scrunched her nose. “Brutal bastard.”

  He didn't reply. Yes, Macnair had been a brutal bastard. But Severus himself had done a lot of what Macnair had done to him. That wasn't a topic he wanted to elaborate on with Granger though. So he asked, “How was your day?”

  She shrugged. “Boring. I'm tired of reading just to read and I don't find anything I could clean anymore.” She sullenly looked at the dimension barrier and seemed to hate it just like him that she was unable to reach the blurred behind. 

  Granger leaned back and because of her movement, the book slid from her lap and fell to the ground with a loud thud. Severus flinched – and groaned. The pain shot through his body so unexpectedly, he just couldn't stop it. 

  “Are you okay?” she worried.

  “Yes,” Severus breathed and ran his hand across his face. “Just the echo of the memory.”

  “May I … help you with it?” She looked at him, chewing on her lip.

  He briefly returned her gaze, then he averted his and closed his eyes. His whole body felt sore after this memory – and his mind did as well. He felt vulnerable, worn out, exhausted. And Granger knew it. Her gaze told him that she knew exactly how he was feeling right now and he could - not - bear it. There was a burning sensation behind his closed eyelids when he rubbed them with his thumb and his index finger.

  “Never mind,” she quietly said, “I don't have to …” Her voice faded. 

  Severus blinked and looked back at her. She'd lowered her gaze, her fingers entangled, a deep frown on her forehead. Something big rose in his chest. Something that made him gasp for air. Months. He'd been alone with all of his injuries for bloody months. Only ever barely healthy enough to survive. Always buried in his imagined lab as deeply as possible to witness as little as possible of what was happening, only to wake up in a body that … Honestly, up to this day he really couldn't fathom how he had still been alive. And he'd hated his body for hanging on, night after cold, dark, lonely night. He was so sick of being alone. He was so sick of sorting out all of this for himself.

  So Severus swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. “Okay,” he whispered without looking at her. 

  From the corner of his eye, he saw her raising her head in surprise to stare at him. “Okay,” she then repeated, staggered to her feet and disappeared into the house.

  Severus tensely looked at the barrier. He felt every single one of his heartbeats, his hands were shaking. What would she do now? What was her idea of help in a situation like this? He shouldn't have agreed to it. Why had he done that?

  Before he was able to find an answer Granger returned, bringing a jar. It was the same jar she'd given to him to tend to his badly healed wounds. Severus looked at her. “I don't have wounds anymore, Miss Granger.”

  “I know. But it's the memory of these wounds that pains you, isn't it?” She waited for his almost unnoticeable nod. “To treat them like they were real will probably help. It … will remind your body that it is okay today.”

  Severus stared at her. A muscle beneath his eye twitched. Then he dropped his gaze, wishing again that he hadn't agreed to this but couldn't find the strength to refuse her now and so he unbuttoned his shirt, stood up and turned around to sit back down on the foot of the chair the wrong way around so she could reach his back. He closed his eyes when he felt her fingers. She carefully massaged the salve into his scars. Slowly. Thoroughly. And with every single touch, she did seem to soothe the pain. It didn't dissipate completely, not even when she was finished, but it got better. 

  And she limited her care to the top of his back. Severus wrinkled his nose. Obviously, she'd noticed more than he'd wanted her to know.

  “Is it better now?” she asked cautiously.

  Severus nodded and forced out a “Thank you” before he got dressed again. 

  While Granger recapped the jar and put it onto the ground Severus had to fight the almost overwhelming urge to flee. She was his healer, it was okay. He repeated these words to himself until some minutes had passed and he was able to at least partly let go of this feeling. Granger gave him the time he needed, he could hardly believe it.

  Eventually, he cleared his throat. “Would I be correct in assuming that you didn't complete a further education in the field of potions, Miss Granger?”

  She eyed him warily. “Why do you ask? Aren't you satisfied with my work?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I am. Your potions and salves are adequate. I just want to know whether you found the opportunity to complete a further education in the field of potions.”

  She blushed. “No, I haven't.”

  Severus nodded and looked up in the sky. “I want to make you an offer.” He slowly turned his head back to her. “As you already have noticed, we will presumably have a lot of time in here. I could imagine using it to educate you.”

  Her eyes widened almost unnoticeable. “Are you serious?” she asked incredulously.

  “Have you ever seen me suggesting something I haven't been serious about?”

  “No, not really.”

  “I don't plan to begin now.”

  Granger chuckled awkwardly. “I would love to be educated by you, sir.”

  “Fine. I will give you some books Albus has been so prudent to add to my personal things. As long as I am occupied with my memories you will read. Afterwards, I will test you.”

  Granger nodded.

  “Most of the education will be of a verbal and practical nature though. We are very limited with literature in here and since Albus is obviously otherwise busy I presume an order will be fruitless.” He wrinkled his nose. “I will tell you what you need to know and you are free to look it up as soon as we are out of here.”

  “Will this education be officially approved?”

  “If I send a letter to the guild so you get an examination date, it will be.”

  “And will you do so, sir?” She fidgeted with the hem of her T-shirt.

  “When I get the impression that you are fit to pass the examination, I will.”

  That promise dragged the first honest, not instantly faltering smile onto Granger's face he'd seen since they'd arrived in this house. And it was a little bit disconcerting to him that his offer had been worth it only for this smile. 

  It was in the middle of the night when Severus cast his eyes open sullenly. He'd taken Granger's sleeping potion this time and so he was well-rested after only four hours of sleep. Sadly, it didn't help improve his mood.

  Right now it was an alluring idea to pause the reprocessing for a few days. He could busy himself with Granger's educational schedule. Or with his experiments. He could just lie here and stare at the ceiling and it would still be preferable to any further engagement with his memories!

  Severus closed his eyes and for some minutes he allowed himself to feel the mental overload he normally refused to acknowledge. For some minutes, he accepted how afraid he was of the next memory and how much it bothered him to return to that basement after he'd thought he'd finally escaped from it. 

  Then he pushed all of it aside and opened his eyes. Turning to his bedside table, he reached for the vial with the therapeutic potion and took the dose Granger had assigned to him.

Chapter Text

  Severus looked up from his potion when Granger stepped into the lab. She froze near the bottom of the stairs and the reason for it was obvious – she only wore her pyjamas and looked a little dishevelled. She seemed to ponder if she could just turn around and leave.

  Severus decided for her. “Good morning, Miss Granger.”

  “Good morning,” she mumbled, briefly closing her eyes, and ran her hand through her hair while she tried to hide a yawn. “How long have you been awake?” She descended the last steps to the basement. He only noticed her bare feet when he heard her pitter-patter on the tiles. 

  Severus cast a glance at the clock. “About four hours,” he said, fuelling the fire beneath the cauldron. After he'd straight away continued with the therapy potion yesterday and had let himself be tortured by Avery and Mulciber for a few hours he'd needed a break today and had fled to the lab. “What brings you down here so early?”

  Granger tore her gaze from the flames, blinking. “I couldn't sleep any longer. And since one of my experiments needs another ingredient soon …” She brushed some stray hairs from her face, looking very tired despite claiming she was unable to sleep.

  “I'm sorry I'm getting in your way. I didn't reckon you'd be working here at this time of the day. Unfortunately, I can't leave my potion alone right now.” Well, maybe he could but he didn't want to pause the process right now; it went really well.

  She made a small waving gesture with her hand. “I don't mind. I still have about half an hour left and it's only a minor adjustment, needs practically no preparation time. I'll let you work and take a shower lest you have to rescue me from a bear again.”

  Severus smirked while Granger was already heading to the stairs. “You never told me what was the purpose of that ice desert?”

  She groaned softly and Severus regarded her curiously. Her cheeks were deeply blushed. “I wanted to … sort of shock-freeze a potion.” She frowned. “I'm working on a concoction for burn damage and thought it might have a positive effect to not let the potion cool down by itself but do it very quickly. I got a bit carried away …”

  He contemplated her pensively. “It's worth a try though. Did you give it another chance?”

  She shook her head no. “The snow ruined my notes. I don't know what exactly I've worked into the potion. I'm still trying to recreate it.”

  “Too bad.”

  “Yeah, it's a tedious job. But it's my own fault. I should have switched to a biro long ago.” She twisted her face.

  “I could help you if you want.”

  “Thank you for offering but I think I'm about to get everything back together. But if you don't mind you could cast the cooling charm the next time. I can well do without the bear.”

  He felt himself smile again. “That shouldn't be a problem,” he said and scooped a huge amount of ordinary silica sand into his potion.

  “Thank you! But now I'll take a shower. What do you think about breakfast afterwards?”

  “Sounds fine.”

  “Good, then I will tend to it. See you later.” She rushed back upstairs.

  Severus watched her leave, lost in thoughts. Since their breakfast a few days ago she was curiously amenable and it didn't seem as if it was a pure act of self-control on her part. What had changed? Or did her mood swing only seem so sudden to him because he was asleep one way or another about nineteen hours a day right now? 

  He shook his head. Maybe he should just cherish it as long as it lasted. 

  Severus stared at the butter without really seeing it. With half a mind he noticed the seconds drifting by. He should blink and resume eating. But he was only able to do it when Granger reached for the butter. 

  She looked at him frowning. “Don't you like the coffee?”

  Severus swallowed. Coffee? Oh, right. “No, it is good. Why do you ask?”

  “Because you look so sullen.”

  “It's not about the breakfast,” he assured her.

  “What is it about then?”

  Severus just looked at her for a long time. He would never have answered her questions like that in the past. It wasn't any of her business. But things were different now. She was his healer and it was the coming memories that troubled him. He forbade himself from thinking about them, so much so that he didn't even know what had happened anymore. But he did know that it had been bad.

  He sighed and cleaned his hands on the serviette. “The memories,” he said tightly.

  Granger took a deep breath. “It's getting worse,” she concluded.

  “Yes.”

  “I guess you avoid thinking about these memories?”

  Severus nodded. 

  “That would make the reprocessing very intense indeed.” He just had to raise an eyebrow for her to explain that statement. “The more suppressed the memories are the more intense you will experience the reprocessing. There are more unprocessed emotions attached to them, you know?”

  Severus gulped. He'd feared something like that. He'd even tried to let those memories come and remember while he'd been awake. But he had so keenly pushed them away for such a long time that he had no control over it anymore. He couldn't reach them. He only knew that it had been bad.

  Clearing his throat, he tore himself back to the conversation with Granger. “Have you researched this topic?”

  “A little. I plan to work more on it in the future.”

  Severus narrowed his eyes. “Do tell me, Miss Granger … Is it by chance possible that I act as your human guinea pig?”

  She blushed. “Um … maybe a little bit …” she mumbled and hid behind her cup.

  He exhaled deeply, openly glaring at her. “I could strangle you with my bare hands right now.” He placed them around his cup to demonstrate what he meant. 

  “But you have yourself under control.”

  “Sadly, yes,” he growled after he'd kept her on tenterhooks for a moment. She was lucky he was interested in this topic himself. It was a nearly unexplored matter in the Wizarding World. Although magic had means to understand literally everything they were hardly used. It was an utter mystery to him. There wasn't much he envied the Muggles for but their curiosity and their urge to understand and to evolve was part of it. “I will support you, Miss Granger. I will answer your questions and act as your guinea pig.”

  “But?”

  “But I want to cut in to your research and the profit you will make of it sooner or later.”

  She stared at him, only briefly closing her eyes. “I … I don't know …” she mumbled and put her cup down – just to regret it immediately since she didn't know what to do with her hands then.

  Severus regarded her intently. “What unsettles you? The shared profit or … the outcome of our last collaboration?”

  She gulped and lowered her gaze.

  Severus took a deep breath. “I didn't know Mr Potter would not survive the effect of that potion.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  He hesitated. Should he tell her what had happened? How did she feel about Albus? Would it help her or would he hurt her even more by telling her? She looked at him when he remained silent. “Think about it, Miss Granger. You know how well we work together.” He stood. “I will devote myself to research now.” He put his dish and his cup into the sink and nodded at Granger before he left the kitchen.

  The chains hoisted Severus up without someone entering the room. It happened so suddenly that he faltered and fell until the chains caught him. There was a cracking sound in his shoulder, he groaned softly.

  He waited for something to happen, his heart thumping heavily. But the minutes passed by quietly and he felt his vigilance slipping. What was the point of this? What was Lucius planning? He looked around, pain shooting through his back. Lately, they'd left him alone most of the time but some of his wounds refused to heal, and having to continuously stand up or hunch down on the ground wasn't helping matters either. 

  He stared at the door, counting his heartbeats. They were the only measure of time he had down here. There were no windows, he never knew whether it was day or night, let alone how long he'd already been held captive. It felt like an eternity plus a few days. 

  The door burst open and collided with the wall. Severus flinched. 

  Lucius stepped in and dragged someone along with him. Another captive. She was barefoot and clad in a dirty undergarment, her head hidden underneath a black hood. Her wrists were crossed in front of her body, magically tied, he concluded, as she stumbled and didn't use them to balance herself.

  “Severus! Long time no see – and yet you are still alive. You are hard to kill.” He shook his head. “Well … I have a guest for you.” He let go of the captive who now – since nobody dragged her along anymore – straightened up and lifted her chin.

  “No,” Severus breathed. This small movement had told him who it was. Minerva. “No no no,” he mumbled and shook his head.

  Lucius grinned. “I see you recognised her. Unfortunately, the Mudblood is hard to get hold of but she will do I guess.”

  He lifted the hood from Minerva's head. Her hair sizzled and when she saw Severus her eyes widened. Her gaze scurried across his naked body and Severus looked away, his face burning. 

  “Right, I almost forgot,” Lucius said, drew his wand, and waved it through the air.

  Minerva opened her mouth, catching her breath, gasping. “Severus,” she whispered in a horrified voice. From the corner of his eye, he saw how she seemed unable to avert her gaze. He wished she would do it nevertheless. He wished he wouldn't have to stand in front of his former colleague naked and maltreated, wouldn't have to endure her seeing just how much he'd failed.

  “Don't you want to say hello, Severus?” Lucius asked.

  Severus closed his eyes, clenching his lips.

  “Imperio!”

  Emptiness. Silence. Severus's head got wrapped in peace and a cottony soft feeling of insouciance. It was warm and wonderful. He wanted it to stay that way.

  “Say hello, Severus!”

  Hmm. Yes, he could do that. He could say hello. That was okay.

  Right?

  A spark surged through the warmth. Something … told him he shouldn't do it. Something … about it was not okay.

  “You are to say hello, Severus!”

  Actually … No.

  No, he would not do that.

  “Severus!”

  No.

  “Say it!”

  “No!” The Imperius Curse fell from him, the warmth and ease disappearing. Pain and humiliation returned. He glanced at Minerva's face. She nodded at him proudly, her hands trembling.

  The tiny muscles surrounding Lucius's eyes twitched. Then, “Crucio!”

 The curse hit him square in the stomach. Immediately, his body was in flames. Every nerve, every cell, his skin was peeling off his bones, acid was flowing through him.

  No! NO!

  He screamed, squirmed, doubled over, clawed his hands around the chains, screamed some more, he just couldn't help it.

  Please, stop it!

  The chains rattled, his nails bit into his palms, his back cracked more than once. He couldn't stand it! It was too much! STOP IT!

  “Stop it!”

  Silence. The pain subsided.

  But it hadn't been Severus's voice. Panting, he lifted his gaze. Minerva's face had lost all of its colour, her eyes were huge. She was quivering.

  Lucius laughed. “See, Severus? She worries about you. And you don't even say hello.”

  Severus coughed. His muscles were still twitching as if he were being given tiny electrical surges. And his legs felt kind of cold … He inhaled sharply. No, they were wet.

  No!

  Heat rose to his face, he averted his gaze. 

  Lucius laughed again. “Yes,” he drawled, “that's how I wanted to see you, Severus.”

  He glared at him, the chains rattling when he wrapped his fingers around them.

  “You are a swine, Mr Malfoy,” Minerva said and looked at him as if it had been him who'd just wet himself. Severus had never seen that much contempt in her face. Not even after he'd injured James Potter with Sectumsepra.

  Lucius raised his eyebrows, turning to her. “You are right, Minerva. I am. But to your detriment, it is the swine holding the wand. And we will play a game.”

  Severus swallowed, as did Minerva. Now that her gaze was resting on Lucius he dared take a closer look at her. She looked horrible. How long had she been captive? What had they done to her? Because of him. He clenched his teeth so tightly that his jaw cracked.

  “I see, you are excited.” He smiled. “The game works like this: I will say what I will do and you, Minerva …” He looked at her. “… will decide to whom I will do it.”

  “No!” Severus called, shaking his head violently. “Don't, Lucius! Do with me whatever you want but leave her alone!”

  “Are you even listening, Severus? It is not my decision anymore.” He swivelled his wand in his hands. “Ah, by the way.” He turned back to Minerva. “If you refuse to decide I will do it to both of you.”

  “Of course,” Minerva muttered. She was still standing upright, returning his gaze as if she were still his teacher.

  “Minerva, let him do it to me! Please, Minerva!” His heart was thundering in his chest. He knew Minerva! He knew her bloody altruism! She mustn't do that! All of this was his punishment!

  She looked at him. “Be quiet, Mr Snape.”

  Lucius barked a laugh. “Listen to this, Severus! Mr Snape! She doesn't even grant you your title anymore!”

  Severus ignored him. He held Minerva's gaze when she tilted her head a fraction. No, this wasn't about the title. She'd called him Mr Snape because that had been the name she'd referred to him when he had been her student. She ordered him to hold back. She ordered him to let her deal with it. She would protect him as well as she was able to. For once. “No,” Severus breathed, the word strangling him. His heart was beating so vigorously he couldn't even hear Lucius laughing anymore. There were only Minerva's eyes. “Please, don't do it.”

  She smiled briefly before she averted her gaze. “Well, Mr Malfoy, what do you want to do?”

  Lucius tapped his wand against his lips. “I think we will start with the Cruciatus Curse.”

  “No!” Severus shouted.

  “That's mine,” Minerva decided calmly.

  “No, Minerva! Please, don't!”

  But Lucius smiled, pointed his wand at her and said, “Crucio!”

  She screamed. She screamed as loudly as Severus had never heard her scream before. Her legs gave way underneath her and hearing her body plummet to the ground was almost worse than seeing her twist and writh on the bare stones. His blood ran cold and swooshed in his ears. He wanted to look away, didn't want to listen, but he couldn't. He wanted to leave, but he couldn't!

  Then it stopped. Minerva's screams turned into panting. Some strands of her hair flew in her rapid breaths. She propped herself up on her tied hands, sat up, struggled to get back up on her feet. “What now?” she asked when she stood upright again.

  Lucius's eyebrows twitched. “Fire. I will burn the hand of one of you. Severus already experienced it. Show it to her, Severus!” He didn't even look at him.

  Severus scrunched his nose. “How should I do that, you imbecile? I'm pinioned!”

  Now Lucius did turn to him, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “Well, look at that! We have a volunteer.”

  “No!” Minerva bit out. “I am to choose! You will do this to me!”

  “I will simply do it to both of you,” Lucius decided. With a twitch of his wand, the manacle around Severus's right hand opened and he was forced to sprawl out his arm, his palm facing up. 

  The same magic forced Minerva to stumble towards him. Her manacle opened as well and shortly after, both of their palms hovered next to each other in the air. The tip of Lucius's wand wavered between their hands as if he were unable to decide with whom he should start. Then he stopped above Severus's hand. “You go first,” he said and pressed the tip to Severus's skin.

  Pure fire flowed into his palm. It went red, blistered, burst open. Severus clenched his teeth, breathing heavily, but he refused to scream, even though it made him feel dizzy.

  “Stop it!” Minerva stared at Lucius, she tried to lift her other hand to stop him but she couldn't move. “Stop it!” she blurted again but Lucius only laughed. Then she caught Severus's gaze and held it. His hand was trembling horribly but the magic was unyielding.

  At long last, Lucius tore his wand away. He watched Severus eagerly for two, three, four seconds.

  Severus was wheezing. His hand throbbed and spasmed. The skin was of a deep red, burst blisters showed raw flesh, the stench was horrible, the pain eating its way up his arm. Lucius didn't even look away from Severus when he pressed the tip of his wand into Minerva's palm.

  But Severus looked away. “No!” he whispered. Searching for Minerva's gaze, he saw the same agony in her eyes he'd just witnessed himself. And she just like him stayed mum. Severus's hand throbbed in time to his thundering heartbeat. He saw her fingers twitch from the corner of his eye, tears welled in hers. But Lucius went on. 

  “Stop that!” Severus cried eventually. “STOP THAT!”

  Lucius did and he laughed. “Oh, Severus … Had I anticipated how easy you are to be tortured I would have snatched someone from the Order much earlier. It doesn't even have to be the Mudblood. You care about all of them, don't you?”

  Severus briefly closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Once I cared for you as well,” he said hollowly.

  Lucius snorted. “So much so that you betrayed me and led me to believe I had fucked a filthy Muggle.”

  “I betrayed the Dark Lord, not you,” Severus reminded him.

  Lucius whirled around, pressing the tip of his wand to Severus's neck. “That is the same!” he bit out.

  “Do not do it, Mr Malfoy!” Minerva called but Lucius didn't even seem to hear her.

  Severus looked up at him. The seconds dragged along slowly. “Do it, Lucius.”

  Lucius wrinkled his nose and turned away. “No.” He paced through the room, forcing himself to calm down. “No. Our game is not over yet.” He twitched his wand twice and both Severus and Minerva were tied up again. “Now we get to the fun part! Next, I will use one of your curses, Severus.”

  “No!”

  “Yes! Sectumsempra, Severus!”

  “NO!” Severus threw himself into the chains but of course, he couldn't achieve anything with it. They just rattled, his shoulders cracked, the skin on his wrists tore open.

  “That's mine as well,” Minerva said calmly. But Severus noticed that she was already stretched to her limits. She was pale, sweat was covering her face, her hands were trembling, as was her whole body. 

  “No, Minerva, please!”

  “I guessed as much,” Lucius said and turned her around.

  “Leave her alone, Lucius! Minerva!”

  But nobody reacted to his protest. The blond man's wand twitched and the dirty undergarment slit open, exposing her naked back to Severus. He averted his gaze. “Look at it, Severus. It is your curse. You should enjoy it!”

  “No,” he mumbled, still tearing at his chains, the blinding pain the only thing that kept him from crying.

  “Oh, but I insist.”

  Severus didn't want to but Lucius forced his head around so he had to look at Minerva. Then he pointed at her lean back and in a delicate voice he said, “Sectumsempra!”

  Severus howled, Minerva gasped. The pale skin ripped open, three deep gaping wounds drew across her back as if a tiger had torn his claws across it. Immediately, she began bleeding. Heavily. It ran across her naked bottom, down her legs, dripped to the ground. 

  Lucius clicked his tongue. “What a mess,” he said and turned her around. 

  The last remains of colour had drained from her face. She shuddered while a small but steadily growing puddle of blood pooled around her feet. “Severus,” she said softly, gulping, “it is okay.”

  “No,” he said and shook his head violently. Tears were streaming down his face. “You swine!” he yelled at Lucius.

  He laughed. “We've already been there, Severus.” He stepped aside when Minerva's blood threatened to touch his elegant shoes. “Do you fancy another round or should I leave you alone?”

  Minerva buckled. The blood loss, the pain, her age … Her legs just gave way underneath her.

  Lucius looked at her coldly. “I win,” he said. Then he took a huge step across her and headed to the door.

  “Stay the fuck here, Lucius! HEAL HER!” Severus yelled after him.

  Lucius turned around to him, hunching his shoulders. “I would but you never taught me the countercurse, Severus.”

  “Then give me your wand and I'll do it!” It was sheer despair.

  “I'm afraid I cannot do that. But I leave her with you. And because I had so much fun with you two you shall be granted a little reward.” He pointed his wand at Severus's manacles and they opened. Severus dropped to the ground. Then Lucius left and the door snapped shut behind him with a thud.

  Severus crawled to Minerva who was hunched on her side. “No, no, no, no,” he mumbled and cradled her lean body in his lap. She was already unconscious and still warm blood flew over his arms. Severus sobbed and hugged her to himself, rocking her back and forth, back and forth.

  He tore his eyes open, his face wet from tears, his clothes sticking to his sweaty skin. He felt sick, tasted bile in the back of his throat.

  Severus staggered to his feet, almost toppled to the ground because Granger's potion was still working and trying to drag him back to sleep. He stumbled to the bathroom and hardly managed to lift the lid of the toilet before his stomach clenched and he heaved up his sparse breakfast. For several minutes, he was victim to his body's reactions to that memory, retching and almost passing out from it.

  Then he sank back onto his feet. The bathroom was spinning around him and he squeezed his eyes shut. Bloody potion … 

  And his damned hand hurt. He held it right before his eyes. It was trembling but there was nothing to be seen. Somebody had later retrieved Minerva's body from the basement room, removed the blood and tied him up again. They had healed his hand as well. He didn't know who'd done it though. He'd fled to his lab and tried not to exist anymore. Not to exist ever again. 

  When his stomach had settled Severus dragged himself back to bed and curled on his side. The potion forced him back to sleep and if he had been able to scream he would have when the same memory started all over again.

  Three times.

  That often he had to relive Minerva's death until it was enough.

  In the evening, Severus stood in the bathroom swaying, clinging to the sink. The images haunted him. He just had to close his eyes and he saw them again. Heard her voice. Felt her blood on his hands. 

  After he'd stood there for several minutes, he undressed and stepped into the shower. Leaning against the cold tiled wall, he let the hot water stream across his body until his skin was deeply red and sore. And even then it didn't hurt enough to rid him of those emotions.

  How many people had died because of him or for him?

  He sank to the ground, his legs bent, and began to sob. Agony rattled his scrawny body, he felt like he was suffocating in the hot steam. “You should have been aborted!” his father had said at any given opportunity. Right now, Severus thought that he had been right.

  Granger was on the terrace. She was immersed in one of the books Severus had given to her, the sun bathing her in warm light and glistening on her brown locks. 

  Severus walked to the door silently, leaned against the frame, and stared at the blurred border of their dimension. For long minutes, he kept Granger company without her noticing it. She turned the pages and took some notes as he'd seen her doing uncountable times before.

  He wanted to catch her attention several times. But he shied away from it. Just a few more minutes.

  “Minerva McGonagall is dead,” he said at long last when the sun had already neared the horizon a fair way.

  Granger jumped, shutting the book on impulse, and turned around to him as far as she was able to without standing up from her cross-legged pose. Just when she saw his face she seemed to understand what he had said because her eyes suddenly went blank.

  “I thought you ought to know,” he added, pivoted on the spot and left.

Chapter Text

  Severus got the bottle of Firewhisky from the cabinet in the parlour and went to the kitchen. He poured a normal tumbler half-full and took a gulp. The whisky burned in his throat. He put the bottle on the worktop and ran his thumb and index finger across his eyes. 

  “You shouldn't drink too much alcohol while you take the potion. They don't react particularly well with each other.”

  He looked up. Granger was standing in the door frame. “I drank more alcohol the other day,” he reminded her in a dark voice.

  “I know. Alcohol is not off-limits, it doesn't impair the effect of the potion or something but … You react more sensitively to it. Just don't overdo it.” She went past him and sat down at the table.

  Severus closed his eyes briefly. Thought that she was the wrong person to talk about moderate alcohol consumption. But he dismissed the sentiment because … Minerva. He sat down at the other side of the table. His knees felt weak and that was not because of the alcohol. 

  They didn't speak. Granger's gaze lingered on him and Severus noticed that he didn't mind. It wasn't a demanding gaze in any way. Somehow he knew, even if he kept silent for an hour and then just stood up and left – it would be okay. And somehow that was the reason why he eventually, when his glass was long empty, was able to begin, “Lucius had her abducted. I don't know how long she has already been there.”

  “Professor McGonagall disappeared on the 25th of May.”

  Severus snorted and rubbed his eyes again. “Miss Granger, I don't have a clue at what point anything happened.” He paused, blinking several times until the white dots vanished, and added, “Right now it feels as if it happened mere minutes ago.”

  Silence. For four, five, six seconds. Then, “What happened?”

  Severus frowned. He couldn't look at Granger when the memory rose before his eyes again. “I think she had been there for a while. She only wore a … filthy undergarment. Her hair was undone, I've never seen her like that before.” His thumb stroked the rim of the glass he was still holding in his hand. “She was restrained, her head covered with a hood.” He swallowed.

  He heard Granger exhale slowly. She'd knitted her brows, her eyes were closed. Then she stood, fetched a glass from the cupboard and poured herself some whisky before offering the bottle to him. Severus arched an eyebrow, she shrugged. When he nodded, she topped him up.

  He took a sip before he continued, “Lucius forced her to decide whom he should torture. He called it a game …” Snorting, he ran his hand across his mouth. “Of course, she wanted to take everything upon herself.”

  “Wanted?” Granger asked.

  “Did,” he corrected himself. “She did take everything upon herself.” It didn't matter what Lucius had done to him. It had only been fair. But when he met Granger's gaze he knew that she understood what he tried to hide. 

  “She did it to protect you,” she said hoarsely.

  “I know!” he bit out and glared at her. Slowly he dropped his gaze. “I know … But she should have protected herself instead. She was … the better person by far. Better than I could ever be. By any measure.” He averted his gaze when something swelled in his chest and emptied his glass in one gulp, swallowing that swelling thing down with the alcohol. 

  Granger sighed softly.

  But when she wanted to say something Severus continued, “I saw this memory three times. Perhaps that is important.”

  Granger sat up, quarrelling with herself. Her gaze wavered between him and the kitchen door.

  “Just go and get your notes,” Severus growled. He was grateful for the little break when she leaped to her feet and hurried from the kitchen. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly until the burning sensation behind his eyelids lessened. The alcohol hummed in his head.

  He only noticed her return when she collapsed into her chair. “Did you pick up on anything else?” she asked and brushed a strand of hair from her face.

  “The memory was more intense. I …” He looked at her but the words refused to come. “I didn't feel well afterwards. Worse than usual.”

  She swallowed. He could tell that she wanted to know more, but she remained silent, dismissed the subject. “Are there more memories like this? I mean, memories you suppressed so strongly?”

  Severus shook his head. “None that are that grave.”

  “Okay.” She didn't scribble that down.

  Severus stared at his empty glass. The silence stretching between them now wasn't soothing. It weighed on his shoulders and seemed to physically press him down onto the table. “Excuse me,” he mumbled and stood.

  He was already at the door when Granger said, “Professor Snape!”

  He froze.

  “Severus …?”

  And closed his eyes. A part of him reacted to his given name in her voice. He felt himself sway a little. But he didn't object. Should she call him by his given name. He wasn't a professor anymore and he didn't want to be Mr Snape ever again.

  “It is not your fault,” she said eventually, ending the silence equalling consent.

  Severus heard himself utter a sound he'd never heard before. A sort of … throaty, dry sob. He was ashamed of it instantly. Granger … Hermione … She had no idea! What did she know about faults?

  Without looking at her again Severus went upstairs and slammed his door shut.

  During the following days, Severus avoided Grang… Hermione. He avoided her and didn't take her potion anymore. Instead, he spent the first night in the lab, the real one in the basement, and thought up a hurried potion that would help him to get into his imaginary lab and prevent him from being too easily torn from it. Apparently, it was much harder to escape into an imaginary world when he wasn't being tortured. 

  So he returned to Master Dendron. To a time when nobody had died because of him or for him. 

  Severus knew how pathetic he was. But he forbade himself from thinking about it too much. He mostly stopped thinking in general - as much as he could. He didn't think about how Gr… Her-mi-one! How Hermione would think about what he was doing. He didn't think about how he should proceed. He didn't even think about how long he intended to handle his life like this. 

  After twenty years he simply stopped thinking about every damned move on every bloody day in his life. 

  Honestly, had it ever made any sense at all to overthink everything? It got him to this point; it could've hardly gotten any worse, could it? 

  But – and really, how could it have been any different? – he was eventually torn from his apathy. Hermione ended it. Harshly. She used the damned Rennervate for it!

  “What?” Severus bellowed, angry and fed up with this world as he was. And he didn't smell that nice either after he hadn't taken a shower in two? Three? Several days. 

  “Whatever it is you are doing, stop it!” she said and sounded at least as angry as he was.

  “Why should I?” he inquired and rubbed his throbbing temple.

  “Because …” She broke off, pursed her lips and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You have to complete the reprocessing of your memories. It has been three days now since you last took the potion. It doesn't process every memory individually, Severus. You will feel better when you complete it!”

  He looked at her sullenly but didn't say a word. What could he say? If he truthfully said what he was thinking, she would have never left him alone. He didn't deserve to feel better and yes, he also knew how pathetic that was! But he didn't care … 

  “Go away, Miss …” He exhaled sharply, clenching his teeth. “Hermione!” he growled. “Just go away.”

  And she did. But her last gaze … He wanted to scream! She had no sodding right looking at him like that!

  Severus reached for the first thing he could find and hurled it against the wall. The banging and clanking were relieving – realising that it had been his potion, his ticket into his imaginary lab, wasn't. 

  He was sitting there, on the edge of his bed, and stared at the green rivulets running down the wall. And something collapsed inside of him. He tried to stop it. He tried so hard! He tried to hold onto the rage because rage was the barrier that shielded him from … that. From what was lurking behind it. But it drained like water from cupped hands. It just dribbled away. 

  And then his eyes dribbled.

  For an absurdly long period of time, this thought was the only one he was able to think. Then he understood that he was crying. And perhaps crying was pathetic too but he forbade himself from thinking about it. After all these years … all the things he'd had to do … all of the lousy options he'd had to choose from … all the people he had lost … all the crap this one bloody mistake he'd made in his youth had forced him through … After all these years it was just enough. He had enough. He was at the end of his rope. At the end of his ability to suffer. And his willingness to suffer.

  So, may the whole world label him as pathetic for all he cared! They'd never liked him anyway.

  Eventually, he got to the end of his tears and Severus felt empty. He stared at a spot on the floor, felt the throbbing of his heartbeat and didn't move a single muscle for so long that it felt as if he'd unlearned how to do it when he wanted to reach for Hermione's bloody potion.

  Fine. So she had won. He would complete this damned reprocessing. He took a tablespoon of it, lay back into his bed, and let himself be dragged down into sleep.

  When he observed Bellatrix trailing in behind Lucius he closed his eyes. No. Just … no. No more Cruciatus. If there was anything resembling a God, Severus thought, may he please save him from this woman.

  But there was no God. Nowhere. And especially not here.

  His heart fluttered in his chest when he heard them approaching. They were talking about something … Probably about him. Severus tried to not hear the words. That was easier to manage since his condition had declined. After Minerva had died in his arms, through his curse and therefore virtually through his hands, he'd searched one of the burn scars Draco had left on his skin. There had to be one at a part of his body he was able to reach. And he'd found one. On his left upper arm. 

  Standing up, the chains were loose enough for him to reach it with his right hand. And he'd started to pick on it. Maybe – just maybe … it would break this ruddy healing spell. And since he now had difficulty focussing his gaze … or waking up properly … or just breathing … he seemed to be right with this assumption.

  Nothing would stop him from dying this time!

  Except for Lucius. Lucius would stop him. Severus groaned when he heard him click his tongue. “We have to cocker him up first,” he said aimed at Bellatrix. And turning to Severus he added, “You refuse to die for several months and now you want to perish?”

  Severus didn't react. He wasn't even able to. His muscles weren't under his control anymore. But unfortunately, his ears were still working. He heard one pair of feet leave. Then nothing for a long time. Then two pairs of feet returned. “Do … something! He has to be awake.” Bellatrix.

  The voice intoning some spells afterwards was alien to Severus. And he wasn't interested in who it was.

  But the voice suddenly saying “Rennervate!” interested him very much!

  The spell shot through him like an electrical shock. Severus tore his eyes open, gasping for air, his heart feeling like it was about to explode. The wizard crouching down in front of him was young, maybe in his early twenties. He looked at Severus with blank eyes and held out a vial for him.

  “You moron!” Bellatrix exclaimed. “He will hardly open it himself and drink it voluntarily! Force him!”

  The wizard, who most likely was a healer under the control of an Imperius Curse, unstoppered the vial, compelled Severus to open his mouth using his wand and tipped the little flask until its content flowed into Severus's mouth. 

  He tried to spit it out but when he did Lucius suddenly came from wherever he'd been lurking and pinched his nose shut. “Oh no, Severus. You will drink this potion!”

  Severus choked on it and coughed but he'd already drunk enough of it to sense his fluttering heartbeat calm down and get more effective. His body temperature decreased and the dull ache in his body subsided. The potion had just healed him from the toxaemia which could have been his ticket to death.

  Blast it!

  “Tend to his back as well, it looks disgusting.” Lucius.

  And Bellatrix apparently ordered the healer to do just that. He stood, walked around Severus and began covering his wounds with a balm. Dittany, most likely. Or Murtlap Essence. Something that made death even more unapproachable. Severus wrinkled his nose. 

  “And now buzz off,” Bellatrix said when the healer was finished, “Return to your cell, pull the door closed behind you and forget that it isn't locked.”

  Lucius huffed but he didn't comment on it.

  After the healer had gone Bellatrix turned to her brother-in-law. “Do you want to go first or may I?” She smiled and licked her lips, her eyes huge in anticipation.

  Severus's stomach turned.

  “Go ahead,” Lucius replied. “I've got time.”

  And so Bellatrix faced him. She waved her wand and a table literally grew underneath Severus. He startled and looked around while he was lifted up on it. Then something forced him to lay down flush on the back. His arms stretched to the upper corners, his legs to the lower. He was no longer able to move. 

  Bellatrix's face appeared above his own. She had another vial in her hand, grinning. “Will you drink voluntarily this time or do I have to force you as well?”

  Severus gulped, clenching his lips.

  She snickered. “You know how I like my men. Tied up and rebellious.” The stopper shot from the vial and Bellatrix clasped her wand between her teeth to pinch his nose just like Lucius had.

  Severus forced his lips shut as tightly as possible. When the oxygen in his lungs depleted, his heartbeat quickened and swooshed in his ears. His chest, his whole body began to hurt. He got dizzy. And then he reached the point at which his body betrayed him. He couldn't keep himself from gasping for air and Bellatrix used the opportunity to tilt the vial.

  Again he choked on the potion, again he spit out too little for it to not be effective. And when he tasted the potion … when he smelled it … and when he sensed its effect, Severus wheezed, almost panicked and focused on Master Dendron and the lab as strongly as possible. 

  “You are safe here, my boy,” Master Dendron said when he noticed him, “What do we do today?”

  But Severus didn't get the chance to answer him before his body burst into flames. Acid cursed through his veins. He screamed, tore his eyes open and saw a cackling Bellatrix straddling him, his erect penis in her hand, savouring the sight of him squirming in his restraints. 

  The Cruciatus Curse was seething through his body until Severus almost lost consciousness. Almost. Bellatrix quit the Curse, sat down on him and started moving. Her heat encompassed him like a vice, he couldn't breathe. “That's it!” she moaned, throwing her head back, and grabbed his chin with her free hand. “Is it as good for you as it is for me?” she inquired and laughed again.

  Severus pinched his eyes closed. He had to get away from here! Once more he focused on the lab, his sanctuary, his safe haven amidst this hell being his life. Swiftly he saw the kind face of Master Dendron, then … 

  Acid! Fire!

  No!

  No, no, NO!

  Bellatrix. “You will stay,” she murmured breathlessly. She supported herself on his chest and her black locks were tickling him while she neared her climax.

  Severus tasted bile in the back of his throat and stopped looking at her. Lucius was leaning against the back wall of the cell and watched them. His face was bare of emotions. Their gazes locked and Severus saw a muscle twitch beneath his eye. 

  “YES!” Bellatrix yelped shuddering.

  Severus gagged. Tears sprang to his eyes. She collapsed onto him and her hair covered his face. He couldn't breathe! It was everywhere!

  She only dismounted him what felt like an eternity later. A chill wrecked his body, he trembled, took a deep breath. Closing his eyes, he counted his thundering heartbeat. Fifteensixteenseventeen … 

  “Are you satisfied now?” Lucius asked.

  Bellatrix giggled. “Very much so! What will you do with him, Lucius?”

  “Stay and watch,” he countered off-handedly.

  Severus blinked and lifted his head a fraction. They were standing at his feet talking as if he wasn't even there.

  “Will you do it properly?” Bellatrix inquired and licked her lips once more. She was still trembling from her orgasm.

  Lucius arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean by properly, Bella?”

  She cackled, looking down at his crotch.

  He snorted. “If you really think I would put my prick into something like him you don't know me.”

  She slumped a little. “Then I'm not interested,” she said and looked at Severus again. “See you soon, Severus!” She drew out the second S, turned around and pranced out of the room.

  He was alone with Lucius.

  Who doffed his cloak and hung it in the air before he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and slowly rolled up the sleeves. “You've been here for three months now, Severus. We made you pay for the mistakes you've made. And you put up a good fight!” He cast him an acknowledging glance. “But now the time has come for the last lesson.”

  Severus arched an eyebrow, keeping silent. He probably would have been sick if he'd opened his mouth. 

  “Sex,” Lucius drawled and looked at him, “is not to be used to control somebody, Severus. Sex is precious. A gift you share with the one person that means the world to you.”

  “So it is … a lonely act for you, Lucius?” Severus forced the words out coughing.

  Lucius smiled. “Ah, sarcasm,” he said. “The last refuge of modest people when the privacy of their soul is intrusively invaded.”

  “Dostoevsky?” Severus asked incredulously.

  “I will teach you to respect sex, Severus. Bellatrix offered to take care of one side – I will tend to the other.” He waved his wand and Severus found himself lying on his stomach, his heart thumping heavily. Then he was pulled up at his hips, his legs were bending and he sank back down onto the table, his posterior raised high in the air. 

  He bit his tongue to stop himself from gasping. Closing his eyes, he pressed his forehead against the smooth surface of the table, unable to move. His penis was still erect, thanks to the ruddy potion, and covered in Bellatrix's … he gagged again.

  “Your little farce has affected my life, Severus!” Lucius hissed behind him.

  Behind him!

  “Narcissa thought I had betrayed her! Fuck, I thought I had betrayed her! That's just not done, Severus!” A sharp buzz and then … 

  Pain.

  Something was so brutally ramming into Severus's butt that he thought it would rip him open in the middle. He screamed, his world exploding before his eyes, and heaved.

  “You really have to learn that. I will ensure that you will never forget this lesson. It will haunt you for the rest of your pathetic little life as it haunted me.”

  Again, Lucius brutally drove the magic into Severus. He jumped, tasting blood on his tongue.

  “Every time you move in what little time you have left you will think of me, Severus. And of what you have done to me.”

  Again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Severus didn't even try to flee to his lab. Lucius would drag him back with a Cruciatus just like Bellatrix had. He could only hope for Lucius to take it too far. For him to accidentally kill him. And sweet Salazar! It felt like he would do exactly that.

  But every time he blacked out, every time the pain made him jump, every time he thought it would finally be the last time … he still lived to feel the next brutal thrust of magic.

  Severus completely lost track of time. More than he'd already had. What Lucius did to him lasted an eternity plus a few minutes. 

  But eventually, unbelievably, it stopped.

  Severus slumped to the side when Lucius lifted the spells restraining him to the table. He slid from the edge and plummeted to the ground. For a moment, he actually passed out. But that little mercy didn't last for long. A harsh grip on his chin forced him back. “This is the last time we will see each other, Severus. You will move soon. I am done with you.”

  Then Lucius left and Severus sank into darkness.

  While he'd been able to control his stomach long enough after he'd reprocessed Minerva's death, he didn't reach the bathroom in time now. Actually, he didn't even get out of bed. Pain and disgust were wrecking him instantly and so fervently he only managed to lean over the edge before he started retching. He brought up some bile and the remains of Hermione's potion; it had been a while since his last meal. 

  However, the fact that he'd thrown up the potion didn't stop its effect. It recklessly dragged him back and forced Severus to relive this memory for a second time.

  When he woke up again, Severus got sick only smelling the stench in his room. He heaved drily, pressed his fist against his mouth and swallowed until the urge to vomit lessened. Then he stood, staggered to the window and opened it. It was absolutely dark and absolutely silent. 

  For a while, he only inhaled the warm air, images of the memory coursing through his mind, then he went to the bathroom and looked for a cloth to clean up his floor. He missed his wand. And there was no cloth! So he took one of his towels and rinsed it in the sink afterwards. But the sour stench stuck to the room. To the room and to him as well.

  Severus stood in the middle of it pondering. Lucius had … visited him right before his move to this ruddy island. He hadn't had a lot of visitors afterwards. Pensively he looked at the vial with Granger's potion and decided to give it a try. He sat down on the bed and took a tablespoon of it. Waited. For several seconds. But nothing happened. No fatigue tried to drag him to sleep.

  He laughed huskily. He'd done it. He ran his hand across his face. It was still trembling when he searched for the vial with the second potion. Unstoppered it when he'd finally found it, and emptied it in one gulp.

  But it didn't make him feel much different. He swallowed. Maybe … Maybe it took a while.

  He looked around and was suddenly so aware of his own foul body odour that he shuddered. He undressed and stepped into the shower. Later he'd need Grang… Her-mi-one's wand to get rid of the stench in his room. But as he was looking and smelling right now he wouldn't face her again. 

  Only when he'd lathered himself completely Severus noticed it. His head … it had cleared. He felt … better. Not physically. Physically he was a wreck after three days with hardly any food and the last bout of his memories. His buttocks hurt and he still felt queasy. But – and he thought this word with as much disdain as he could muster – emotionally … 

  Emotionally, he was better. Apparently, the second potion finally did its work. Apparently, the time being captive was now … sealed. Or whatever the potion had done with it. It was not that the shame, the anger, the humiliation and the pain had disappeared. But they didn't overwhelm him anymore. He could bear it. He could handle it. 

  And most of all he could believe that there would come a time when he would be okay again. 

  When Severus stepped out of the shower the mirror was foggy. He dried himself and wrapped the towel around his waist. Then he stared at the matte glass surface. He could make out the outlines of his face, his black hair. At long last, he brought himself to wipe away the moisture. Looked at himself. Looked straight into his eyes. 

  And saw no difference. He couldn't tell from looking into his eyes what he'd seen. He huffed. Gulped and turned away. 

  His hair still wet, Severus descended the stairs approximately half an hour later. Hermione's room was deserted, she had to be somewhere downstairs. He peered into the kitchen – empty. He opened the door to the basement – silence. Then he turned to the parlour. 

  At first, he didn't even see her. It was as dark and silent here as it had been in all of the other rooms. But then he stepped into it to check the garden and spotted her in the armchair. She sat slumped, her eyes closed. Severus stopped and observed her relaxed face.

  Until the bottle caught his eye. 

  Or more precisely both bottles: Firewhisky. One empty lying on the table and one half-full cradled in her arms as if it was her first-born child.

  Severus snatched it out of her arms and slammed it onto the table. He crouched down in front of her, reached for her chin and turned her head to face him. “Hermione!” he called.

 “Mhh,” she uttered.

  “Hermione!” He slapped his flat hand against her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered but she didn't wake up. “Don't drink too much!” he parroted while he looked for her wand. “You should heed your own bloody advice, you stupid, impertinent woman!” Finally, he found the wand and illuminated the room. “Hermione!” he called again, louder, and shook her.

  Her legs which she had drawn to her body slid from the armchair and banged to the ground but not even that woke her.

  Severus exhaled sharply and stood, hurried down to the lab and searched the cupboard holding the prepared potions. “Stupid and unprepared!” he growled, looking for a sober-up potion in vain.

  “Gets here like a full-blown boozer and doesn't prepare a sober-up potion,” he muttered while he fetched ingredients from another cupboard and slammed them onto the tabletop so harshly the flasks almost shattered. “Well, why should she? There's still a lot of time in case she needs it, isn't it? Damned Gryffindor!” He lit a fire underneath the cauldron and poured water into it. Then he prepared the luckily limited number of ingredients. His hands were shaking and his knees felt weak. He wished she'd chosen another night for this. He wished he'd taken a bit more care of himself in the last days. 

  It took him twenty minutes to get the potion ready. He poured a dose of it into a vial and cooled it under the tap.

  Leaving the lab, he grabbed a beaker and transformed it into a bucket. When he was back at Hermione's side he crouched down again and pointed her wand at her. “Rennervate!” It was almost perversely satisfying to wake her up equally as brutally as she'd done with him earlier that day.

  She yelped when she was startled from her slumber. “What …” she mumbled and had apparent difficulty seeing him clearly. 

  “Drink!” Severus ordered and pressed the vial against her lips. She turned her head away. “Don't make me force you, you drunkard!” he sneered.

  Perhaps it was his tone of voice, perhaps it was her last functioning brain cell, but she opened her mouth and allowed Severus to administer the potion to her. He carelessly dropped the empty vial to the ground and held her upright with one hand, putting the bucket into her lap with the other. 

  And then the potion did its work.

  In contrast to himself, Hermione's stomach held a lot she could retch up. Severus scrunched his nose. While he'd taught at Hogwarts there had always been a few students who'd gotten their hands on some Firewhisky to have a private little party – most of them from his House, as he had to admit. And because Slytherin's reputation had been bad enough as it had been, even without the yearly alcohol excesses, he'd tended to his students himself. 

  Still, he hated it passionately.

  “You can be bloody grateful that you're my damned student again and that I value your talent so much! Otherwise, I'd hex you to the afterlife and back after I'm finished saving your ruddy life!” he cursed while she retched and coughed. He even had to hold her sodding hair from her face! “Am I your bloody best friend now or what?” he growled.

  After ten long minutes, it was over and Hermione slumped back into the armchair – equally out of things as she'd been before but this time because of exhaustion. Severus cleaned the bucket (and her) and put it aside, then he sat down on the table and scrutinised her pensively. She snored softly.

  Drinking a bit too much on occasion was one thing – drinking oneself into a coma something else entirely. What made her lose control like that? His rejection could hardly have been reason enough. At most, it had been the straw that broke the camel's back. 

  Severus hesitated, he really did. But as he had been towards her in the last days and as she had been towards him in the first days, he saw no real chance that she would voluntarily tell him what had destroyed her so much. And they couldn't go on like this. So he lifted her wand and said, “Legilimens!”

Chapter Text

  The first seconds of being in Hermione's mind felt like drowning. Memories rushed past him, so fast he wasn't able to see or hear more than fragments of images and conversations. Impressions of her life.

  He saw Albus ruling the elements, sucking magic from everything to support Potter and vanquish the Dark Lord. 

  He saw both of them – Potter and the Dark Lord – go down and knew they were dead even before mud splattered up in the air. 

  He saw Remus Lupin grabbing Hermione's arm, preventing her from running straight into the energy field building around the bodies. 

  He saw Poppy's beaming face when she learned that Hermione would train as a healer.

  He saw Ronald Weasley getting down on his knee in front of Hermione. 

  That was when Severus finally managed to get beneath the surface. He dug deeper into her mind. The threads that were her memories floated away from him. White and fibrously as they were, they gave him a wide berth. But these weren't the memories he needed to see anyway. He was looking for the scarlet red, knobby memories. The memories that wanted to be seen because they were packed with suppressed emotions. 

  It was a special kind of violence he committed against her right now. He'd searched through a lot of minds using Legilimency but he'd never felt as poor as he did now, doing it to her. Hermione Grang… Weasley had suffered enough. There was nothing excusing his doing and Severus didn't even try to find one. What he was doing was worse than reading her diary. She would hate him for it and she had every right to do so.

  Yet he went on.

  He focused on finding the beginning. The moment from that on everything went wrong. Everybody drinking as much alcohol as Hermione these past weeks had experienced such a moment. A few memories drifted past him, so well-arranged as if Hermione wanted him to see them.

  He saw her skimming through bride magazines and discussing dresses with Ginevra Weasley. 

  He saw her at Harry Potter's grave, alone. She put down flowers and asked his permission to marry on his birthday. 

  He saw her with her husband-to-be at the ministry to fix a date for their nuptials. Hermione circled the 31st of July in her schedule, smiling wistfully, and Weasley reached for her free hand. 

  Severus stopped short. The 31st of July … That was tomorrow. Or today? Was it already past midnight? Whatever. That might be a clue. Harry Potter's birthday, Hermione's wedding day. The first she had to spend on her own. Because of him. Probably he would have got drunk on a day like this as well. But not so badly. 

  He went on. 

  Molly Weasley's teary eyes when she gave a simple pearl necklace to Hermione. An heirloom of the family – information Severus didn't need.

  In between, he saw impressions of battles, moments at Hogwarts, in the infirmary, at Order meetings, at little celebrations, and the bliss of two people during these tumultuous times. Especially during the latter he always retreated; there were things he didn't want to see and Weasley during these special moments ranged very high on his list. 

  Finally, he saw Hermione in her wedding dress, and with this memory, he lingered. He knew the rooms in the Ministry of Magic but he'd only entered the Hall of Marriage once. It had hardly changed since Lucius and Narcissa had tied the knot, though. 

  Hermione was wearing a white dress with wide and very long sleeves. A pointy hood was draped on her shoulders and she wore Molly's necklace. At the sight of her, Severus was lost. She was beaming, her cheeks flushed, her chest rose and fell rapidly, the pulse he could see on her neck was thundering. She bit her lip, trying to control her smile. In vain. 

  Eventually, he got himself under control and moved on. He found nothing that helped him with his questions until he saw Hermione in Albus's office at Hogwarts. Conversations with the old puppet master were always important. 

  She sat down, surprisingly calm. Severus remembered her with a different demeanour. 

  “Good evening, Hermione,” Albus said and tilted his head at her.

  “Professor Dumbledore.”

  “I invited you here because one of my concerns has proven right.” The headmaster laced his fingers and watched Hermione over the rims of his glasses. “Severus hasn't got in touch for some time now and I have reason to believe that he has been discovered as our spy.”

  Hermione swallowed. “And what am I to do about it?”

  “I want you to inquire into the matter. Lucius Malfoy is not the type of person to simply kill a traitor. In this regard, he is worse than Voldemort I fear.”

  “You mean Professor Snape was taken prisoner and is … still being tortured?”

  “I assume as much, yes. There is a lot Malfoy would want to make him pay for.”

  She hummed softly. “But I already have an assignment.”

  Albus leaned back on his chair. The old wood cracked loudly and Fawkes startled from his slumber, shaking his feathers. “I need you for this mission, Hermione. You are the only one who would take it seriously.”

  “There would be more of us seriously worried about him if he hadn't got on everybody's bad side,” she countered and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  Albus looked her straight in the eyes. “It is not Severus's fault that Harry is dead, Hermione.”

  “No, it is yours,” she replied coolly. “And still, he may have survived if he hadn't used this stupid potion.”

  Albus said nothing. The soft ticking noise of a clock was the only sound disturbing the silence. Not even the former headmasters in their portraits dared move even though none of them pretended to sleep. They watched the conversation openly curious. “I want you,” Albus finally said, “to look for Severus, Hermione.”

  She huffed. “I have a fixed position in the squad, professor. Ron and I are working well together, I cover him, he covers me. I don't want to give that up.” She wrinkled her nose and Severus knew exactly what she didn't say: Not for him.

  Albus seemed to know it as well because the crease between his brows deepened. “Ronald is a capable fighter, I am not worried about him. Somebody else will take your position in the squad. Saving Severus is important, Hermione. He does not deserve what Mr Malfoy is most likely doing to him.”

  She dropped her gaze, remaining silent. 

  “So, can I assume that you accept the mission then?”

  She briefly pursed her lips, then she straightened up and swallowed her irritation. “You can.” She said it in the same voice in which Severus had promised Albus to be his spy years ago – with sovereign contempt and bitter determination.

  “I appreciate your decision, Hermione. This is the last message I got from Severus. It dates from the 26th of May, so it is eight days old.” He handed her the parchment across the table. 

  Contrary to Hermione, Severus was confused. He hadn't sent messages to Albus on a regular basis, eight days hadn't been a long time for a lack of communication. Albus must have found out from another source that he had been in trouble. But from what source? Had Draco been in contact with the Order so early on? Had he told Albus that Lucius had taken him captive?

  Hermione glanced over the short message and Severus read what had been his last message to Albus as well.

  “Everything unchanged, no noticeable problems. Planning not further progressed. More details will follow.”

  He'd got used to that telegraphic style since one message had almost been intercepted by the wrong person despite all of his safety measures. He'd avoided names and locations, only rarely mentioned details.

  “What planning does he mean?” Hermione asked and lowered the parchment.

  “As it seems, Lucius Malfoy plans to infiltrate the Ministry.”

  “What else?” she mumbled and rolled her eyes before she read the few words once more. “Do you know where Professor Snape lives? Or has lived until recently? Maybe he has some records about Malfoy and where he keeps his prisoners.”

  Albus nodded and fetched a piece of parchment and a quill. He wrote down an address in his usual cursive script and gave it to Hermione as well. “This is the address of his parental home. He has resided there since he had to leave Hogwarts. Be careful that nobody recognises you when you take a look around. The house is probably watched by Death Eaters.”

  “Of course. I will come up with something.” Hermione folded both pieces of parchment and put them into her pocket. “Is that all?”

  Albus acquiesced. “That is all for now, yes. I must ask you to keep quiet about your assignment.”

  Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Of course,” she hissed. “Since I haven't been allowed to tell anybody about how Harry has really died there is nobody I could tell this without causing a riot. Everybody thinks Professor Snape planned to kill Harry.” She sneered. “Everybody believes he is a loyal Death Eater. Everybody except for you, me and Remus and nobody knows where Remus is.”

  Albus briefly lowered his gaze. “It is important that it stays that way. Lucius Malfoy might kill Severus if he thinks the Order is looking for him.”

  “Yes,” she muttered. Then she stood and left the office.

  Severus probed deeper. The memories continued to be surprisingly orderly. He glanced at a moment between Hermione and Weasley. They were dressed so he stayed. 

  Ronald Weasley sat on the marital bed and pored over some books while Hermione had tucked her legs underneath herself sitting in an armchair, watching him. As engrossed in the books as he was he didn't even notice his wife's inquiring look. Had he had the same work ethic back at Hogwarts, he would have performed decidedly better at Potions. 

  “Ron?”

  “Mh?” he hummed.

  “Is there any chance I don't have to share your attention with a book while I talk to you?”

  Since he instantly lifted his gaze and grinned boldly, Severus assumed Hermione's request hadn't been new to him. They had a past, memories that tied them together. Trust and affection, warmth and understanding.

  “Sure. What's the matter?” He scooted down on the bed and supported his elbows on his knees, looking her straight in the eye.

  “I have to leave our squad,” she said softly.

  Weasley frowned. “Why?”

  “Albus issued a new order for me. He thinks I'm best suited for this mission.” She dropped her gaze.

  “What kind of a mission is it?”

  Hermione crossed her arms. “I'm not allowed to tell.”

  His frown deepened. “You don't look very pleased.”

  “Well, I'm not!” she snapped. “I don't want to leave our squad. I don't want to leave you. Somebody has to save your bacon after all.”

  Weasley snickered. “My bacon?”

  She smiled. “Of course. I've saved it at least three times.”

  “You did more with my bacon than saving it,” he countered and twitched his eyebrows.

  “I know.” She bit her lip. “Are you finished studying soon?”

  He sighed. “Nope. The Cursebreaker examination is due next week and if I'm unable to save my bacon myself until then I will hardly pass.”

  “I still can't believe you're studying voluntarily,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Me neither!”

  She laughed softly, he joined in. Then she leaned closer to kiss him.

  “How secret is this mission?” Weasley asked, standing up and sitting down again on the armrest of her chair. He looped an arm around Hermione's shoulders and drew her close.

  “Top secret,” she mumbled and snuggled against him.

  “Even towards me?”

  “Towards everyone.”

  Weasley frowned again but then his expression lit up. “Maybe … I can tickle it out of you.”

  “No way!”

  “Let's see …” He leaned over her and Hermione's bright laughter filled her mind.

  Severus left the memory and went on.

  “Ron, I need your help!” Hermione's eyes were sparkling. It was as if she didn't even notice the tumult surrounding her in the Ministry. 

  Weasley looked up from his parchment in surprise. Their gazes met, Hermione twitched her brows. He signalled her to close the door to his office. “With what?” he asked then.

  “I need to take a look at the index of magical housekeepers.”

  That took Severus by surprise. He'd actually employed a housekeeper because he'd been so used to Hogwarts' house-elves. Besides everything that had demanded his attention, he hadn't found enough time to do the chores himself. Had that idea been a stab in the dark or had she found out somehow?

  “What do you have in mind?” Weasley asked, interrupting Severus's musings.

  “Top secret mission, Ron,” she reminded him impatiently.

  He huffed. And yet he put his parchment aside and tapped his wand against a slightly darker rectangle embedded in his tabletop. A script appeared above it that Severus wasn't able to read from his position. But he knew what it was. The Death Eaters that had infiltrated the Ministry prior to the Dark Lord's defeat had reported about it. It was a magical network, enabling employees of the Ministry to have access to information concerning their level of secrecy. Without a doubt, the index of magical housekeepers would be accessible to an Auror.

  Hermione went over to him and put her hands on his shoulders, watching him with a frown. “Hermione?”

  “Mh?” she hummed absent-mindedly.

  “I can't focus when you're doing that.”

  “When I'm doing what?”

  He looked up at her. “When you're standing right behind me, your hair smelling as amazing as it did this morning, when we …” He interrupted himself, his ears a deep red.

  Hermione blushed as well. Then she drew his head back until she was able to kiss him on the mouth upside down. “Think of this as a thank you,” she breathed afterwards.

  Weasley squirmed in his chair, clearing his throat. Then he returned to the script and finally said, “I hope you'll find what you need.” He stood, went to the sideboard at the left side of his office and poured himself some coffee.

  Silence filled the office, then Hermione uttered a triumphant, “Ha!”

  Weasley smiled, poured a second cup of coffee and returned to his wife. She took it distractedly while she scribbled down some notes.

  Severus left this memory as well and looked for the next.

  He saw Hermione in a stairwell. Attached to the wall in front of her were magical postboxes, snapping for everything getting too close except for the postman and their owners. She scrutinised the nameplates from a distance and when she made a find she ascended the stairs and rapped on a plain door.

  While the key was turning in the lock she drew her wand and the door was hardly ajar when she muttered a soft, “Petrificus totalus!” The old woman with a motley headscarf and a prominent age spot beneath her right eye didn't topple to the ground only because Hermione grabbed her arm. She held her upright and at least had the decency to look embarrassed.

  “I'm so sorry, Mrs Scorfington, I hate that I have to go to such lengths. But I'm running out of time and the life of a man is at risk.”

  Mrs Scorfington stared at Hermione, her eyes wide with horror, then she narrowed them a fraction.

  Hermione swallowed and averted her gaze. With her wand, she cut off a strand of the hair peeking out from under the headscarf and slid it into a little vial. “Listen, I really don't want to harm you but you could help me. Professor Snape is in really big trouble and I sincerely hope he's been a good boss for you. If you want to help him don't come to clean his house on Monday. Nothing will happen to you and none of this has anything to do with you.”

  The expression of utter honesty on Hermione's face hit Severus deeply. He didn't expect her to make such an effort with this order. In fact, he'd expected her to get rid of it as soon as possible – especially considering how she'd occasionally addressed him during the past weeks of being here in the safe house.

  “Promise me you won't scream when I lift the Spell?” Mrs Scorfington blinked once. “Okay.” Hermione did it and stepped back. 

  The old woman slumped and took a deep breath. For a moment Severus expected her to scream despite her promise but she didn't. She only put her hands on her hips. “Was that really necessary? I may be old but I know when to keep my mouth shut. Go, go! I won't come by on Monday as long as you keep me out of this matter.”

  Hermione sighed with relief. “I will. And please excuse my behaviour. I couldn't take a risk.”

  “All right, all right. Just get out of here. And good luck with the potion.” She winked at Hermione, then she shut the door and Severus heard her turning the key in the lock twice.

  Hermione straightened, pivoted on the spot with a composed look on her face, and walked down the stairs.

  Severus hoped she had not started brewing the Polyjuice Potion only after she'd got the hair, especially since she wouldn't find anything of use in his house. Although it would explain the immense length of time that had passed until she'd found him. But no, apparently, the Order had Polyjuice Potion in stock. He saw a memory of how she took a vial from a shelf.

  Then he watched her looking through his house. Perhaps there he would find a clue about what had changed her opinion of him. And of what had driven her to almost drink herself into a coma.

  In the shape of Mrs Scorfington, she entered his house and took a look around. Seeing his parental home through the eyes of someone else – through Hermione's eyes – was disconcerting. The high, dark walls covered with books, the tatty furniture, the black hearth … Severus was ashamed to call this house his home.

  Hermione looked around for a while and when she finally found the stair leading down to the basement hidden behind a bookshelf a smile flitted across her face. Severus watched her descending the stairs, clumsy in this old body. But her hands were still as agile as he knew them. It took her mere minutes until she'd cancelled all of his ongoing experiments. 

  “I'm really sorry about the wasted work, professor,” she whispered.

  After she'd skimmed through his notes for approximately ten minutes she finally tore herself away from his lab and returned to the ground floor. Her path led her further up to the first floor, though, where she soon found his study. She searched through paperwork and drawers, wrinkled her nose here and there, and eventually even sat down behind his desk. The drawers were locked but only warded with a poor spell. Nobody except for Severus had ever entered this room, he'd never considered it necessary to ward it with stronger spells. Plus this wasn't where he stored suspicious notes.

  So it didn't take her long to open the drawer and she looked through the papers stored in it. Finding his black notebook she faltered, skimmed through it swiftly. She clicked her tongue and pocketed it.

  Then she reached for another book. It was a book he'd used as a kind of diary. He'd already filled several of them throughout his life. In it, he scribbled down thoughts he couldn't get rid of otherwise. Memories, incoherent sentences, sometimes only single words. Hermione seemed to quickly realise what it was. She closed it with a loud thud and pocketed it as well.

  Then she stood and left the study. She quickly peered into the other rooms but she didn't seem to find anything of interest.

  When she headed to the stairs, though, she heard a noise from the ground floor and froze. She squinted along the handrail down into the hall but couldn't see anybody. She glanced left and right and finally spotted a closet. Opening the doors, she analysed its content and reached for an almost ancient feather duster. She took a deep breath and slowly stepped down the stairs, entering the sitting room with a casualness only housekeepers possessed. 

  She recognised the blond hair as quickly as Severus. Draco. He stood, his back turned towards her, in front of one of the bookshelves and scrutinised the titles.

  Hermione just wanted to draw his attention when he reached for a book. Severus recognised it in an instant although he hadn't taken a look at it himself for years. But he'd pushed it aside on the shelf often enough, clueless as to why he even kept it since it was a book of poems that had a single bookmark stuck between the pages.

  Hermione didn't know what exactly Draco was holding in his hands. But Severus suddenly understood how he'd had the idea for the panther he'd marked him with.

  After Hermione had concluded that she wouldn't see anything of interest within her remaining time as Mrs Scrofington she cleared her throat. “What are you doing here? Does Professor Snape know you are here?” she asked.

  Draco whirled around. His taxing gaze slid across Hermione's altered look. Then he knitted his brows and put the book back. “That doesn't concern you,” he sneered. “Better you don't remember me being here.” He drew his wand.

  Hermione followed suit and even without living with her and borrowing it several times in the last few weeks, he would have instantly recognised her wand. He'd seen it in her hands so often. But whether Draco recognised it, too, he couldn't tell. “Get out of here!” she snapped.

  Draco hesitated. Then he scrunched his nose and lowered his wand. “I was about to leave anyway,” he said, turned around, and disappeared, leaving Severus with the dull realisation that he would probably never know what the boy had really been there for.

  Hermione didn't stay for long afterwards, but she took a look at the book of poems. Her eyebrows twitched, then she put it back. The Polyjuice Potion would lose its effect soon. She returned the duster and went to the front door. With a last dissatisfied glance down the hall, she pulled it close behind herself.

  Severus paused between the memories. He hadn't spotted a single reason for her change or for the disdain she'd addressed him with from time to time. But if it had not happened here, where then? And above all, why?

Chapter Text

  The next memory Severus glanced at was a conversation between Hermione and Albus. “Professor,” she greeted the headmaster.

  “Good evening, Hermione.” He put a parchment aside.

  “I looked through Professor Snape's house yesterday. It wasn't worth it considering that I wasted several days to get in unnoticed.”

  “How did you do it?”

  “His housekeeper. The index at the Ministry told me where she lives and I got some hair from her. I like that woman.”

  Albus raised his eyebrows. “Very smart,” he said. “And what did you find?”

  She got out his black book, the one with his potion notes, and put it on the table in front of Albus. “He worked on a few potions. Did you give him an according order?”

  Actually, it had only been experiments. Dalliances to keep him occupied.

  “No.” Albus took the book and skimmed through it cursorily. “I hope you cancelled his ongoing experiments,” he added and looked at Hermione above the rims of his glasses.

  “Of course.”

  “Good. And good you brought it. Severus will certainly want to have it back.”

  At that point, Hermione bit her lip before she asked, “What happens in case I find and free him? The Death Eaters will still be after him. Will you hide him?”

  Albus sighed. “That seems to be the only way to go.”

  She nodded.

  “Did you find anything else?”

  Severus watched Hermione intently. She found something else indeed. His diary. But she shook her head. “No. Nothing that would be of help to us. There's only one strange thing, it doesn't seem to fit the mould, at least not like I understood things so far.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Draco Malfoy was in the house when I came from upstairs. He was looking at the bookshelves but only inspected one single book. It was a book of poems. That doesn't make sense. What did he do there? And why a book of poems?”

  Albus lowered his gaze. Severus knew this demeanour. The old man was sorting the facts that he had. He contemplated what he could tell her and what he better kept a secret. “I have a hunch. I will inform you should it be validated.” His look clearly told her he wouldn't say anything more on this topic. “How do you want to proceed now?”

  She sighed. “I have to get closer to Malfoy senior if I want to learn more. I'm still working on it.”

  Albus nodded. “Good. Be careful, Hermione. Mr Malfoy is dangerous.”

  She nodded as well. “I will be. Maybe the Polyjuice Potion will be of help once again.”

  “Good luck, Hermione.”

  After this, Severus found several memories he only briefly glanced at. Most of them showed Hermione amidst books or otherwise looking for information. To his dislike, he once even saw her in a shabby bar at Knockturn Alley known as a venue for Death Eaters - for good reason. She'd gone without Polyjuice and so she was recognised. Both as a person and for what she was: a Mudblood. Severus hated the way they were looking at her and he hated that Hermione swallowed it as if it didn't happen. It was as if she had abandoned all of her dignity the moment she'd stepped into the bar.

  He went on and stopped at a memory which showed her at the Order's headquarter slamming a book shut in frustration. Nymphadora Tonks approached her and put a mug down on the table right in front of her.

  “Here, chocolate always helps,” she said.

  Hermione smiled cordially although she was still visibly disappointed. “Thank you.”

  After Nymphadora had skimmed over the book titles she asked, “What are you even looking for? Is it about your mysterious mission?”

  Hermione knitted her eyebrows. “How do you know about my mission?”

  “Ron. But even if he hadn't told me … You normally bury yourself in medical books and to my knowledge, shapeshifting has little to do with your education.” Hermione blushed. “Why don't you ask me?” Nymphadora inquired and let herself grow some bunny ears to get her point across.

  “It doesn't help me that you can change your look. Unfortunately, I can't educate myself to become a Metamorphmagus.”

  “Fortunately!” Nymphadora exclaimed and pursed her lips. “You'd soon be better than me.”

  “Never!” Hermione replied but she smiled slyly.

  “Ha, as if! But I don't mean it that way. I did a lot of research about shapeshifting. Since I was born with the ability I'm interested in that topic. What do you need?”

  Hermione seemed surprised but she recollected herself quickly. “I'm looking for a way to use a completely different personality. Like Polyjuice Potion but its effect doesn't last long enough and it would be too great a risk if … the real person would be seen by the wrong people. I need something better, something safer.” She ran her hand across her forehead and put her mug on the table. 

  Nymphadora scrutinised her intently, took a deep breath and reached for the books, almost as if she did it against her better judgement. She examined one cover after the other but put every single one aside with a shake of her head. Eventually, she stood, went to the bookshelf and ran her finger along the spines.

  Hermione watched her and sat up straight when she uttered a triumphant sound and pulled an old volume from the shelf. She skimmed the pages hurriedly (licking her finger every now and then to Severus's great dislike), and returned to the table, holding out the book for Hermione. “I don't know how important your mission is. Whether it is worth it. But this could give you what you need.”

  Hermione scanned the text and Severus saw her eyes go big. He was able to read the title of the page as well: Vicissitudo Virtus.

  No! She wouldn't do that! Not because of him!

  Right?

  Severus observed her reading the text tensely. The potion created a second persona in the same body that could be used at will. It had a different look and different personality traits. Both personalities shared the knowledge and the personality traits of the new persona could be defined on purpose. 

  Normally, it took some weeks to get the new persona under control. And Severus had never heard of a case in which someone had got rid of that persona again. The only thing he'd heard of had been reports about great conflicts between the personalities over time that eventually had ended with death.

  “Tonks, that's perfect!” Hermione exclaimed excitedly.

  Severus winced.

  And Nymphadora looked a little anguished as well. “You should read the whole discourse carefully. Consider if you really want to do that. If it is really worth it, Hermione!” She pulled a leg onto the seat of her chair.

  Severus was surprised by her warning. He'd always perceived her as impulsive and short-sighted. Perhaps he had been wrong about that.

  “I don't think I have to consider it. It is simply perfect!”

  Nymphadora looked at her intently. “Are you sure? You will never get rid of this second persona.”

  Hermione wrinkled her nose but she seemed to think about it. “I think it is worth it.”

  No, it was not! He was decidedly not worth doing that! Severus would have loved nothing better than to go to her and shake her to keep her from using Vicissitudo Virtus. But all of this was in the past. It was too late.

  Nymphadora seemed a bit unhappy as well. “Okay.”

  Hermione grabbed the book and stood up. “Thank you for your help!”

  She made a humming sound. Perhaps she already regretted bringing the potion to Hermione's attention. She was a little bit impulsive and short-sighted after all.

  Severus watched this memory for a little while longer. He wanted to know whether Hermione had even read the discourse in the book or whether she had instantly started brewing that potion.

  He saw her lighting up the lab and dragging a chair to the workbench in the middle of the room. Then she conjured a pot of tea and actually started reading.

  Severus moved forward to the next memory. He saw Hermione take the potion and lingered to watch the transition. Not because it was necessary but because he was interested in it in spite of his dislike regarding her decision. He'd never seen the transition. Besides: What kind of persona would a Hermione Grang… Weasley create when she wanted to get behind the enemy's border? 

  He saw her grabbing the edge of the lab table to steady herself while she doubled over, apparently in pain. Her right hand searched for her wand and she pointed it at the door before she mumbled a strangled, “Imperturbatio!” The wand clattered to the ground and Hermione screamed. She dropped onto her knees and reached for her head, her body rocked by convulsions while it changed.

  After several agonising, long, and nerve-racking minutes, it was done and Severus observed Hermione slowly getting back to her feet – only that she didn't look like Hermione anymore. Her hair was almost black and straight. Her skin had darkened and she'd grown a few inches. 

  Eventually, she stood upright and adjusted her clothes. The skirt was daringly short now, the top bared a stripe of toned skin on her waist. She turned towards a mirror doubtlessly only standing there because of what she was doing right now. She snorted softly when she scrutinised herself. 

  “Well. I need you … cool,” she started then, her eyes narrowed to small slits. Her voice still sounded like hers, the new persona was only a surface for now. “Ruthless. Seductive. A woman knowing how to use her natural weapons. Pureblood, confident. Battle-hardened and dauntless.”

  Severus didn't like what traits Hermione gave her second persona. It was a dangerous mix, although admittedly sensible for getting into the Death Eater's ranks. He hated that she'd done that just to find him. But it explained her odd moods in the last weeks. With such a persona hidden in her everything suddenly made sense. 

  “Adia Whitmore,” Hermione finished the imprinting of her new persona by giving her a name. A soft glow surrounded her body and she groaned softly.

  “That is me,” the from now on occasionally independent woman said in a deep voice and smiled such a sly smile that Severus's hair stood on end. 

  The memory almost seamlessly blended into the next in which Adia left the lab and smoothly ascended the stairs. Severus could only assume where she was going but if he had to guess he'd bet on the room Hermione shared with Ronald Weasley.

  The new woman rapped briefly on the door and entered without waiting for an answer. Weasley turned to her with a questioning gaze and frowned. “Who are you?”

  Had Severus really expected him to recognise Hermione's clothes?

  Adia approached him at an airy pace. She got close, much closer than appropriate for a first meeting. Weasley retreated with huge eyes but he was soon stopped by hitting the edge of the desk he'd been working on. She caressed his cheek and bent down to his face, opening her mouth and wetting her lips.

  She just wanted to say something when Weasley noticed the ring on her finger. He flinched back even more and grabbed her hand. “Hermione?”

  Adia grinned, stepping back, and only two seconds later, his wife stood in front of him, looking very smug. “Hullo, Ron.”

  He gaped at her. “Blimey, what was that?” he eventually managed to ask, his voice higher than normal.

  Hermione bit her lip. “Disguise. I need it for my mission.”

  Weasley winced. “I hope you don't plan to run around like that all the time.”

  She got closer to him, not as airily as Adia, but in a seductive way nevertheless. “Don't you like how I look?” She straddled him and caressed his face in a similar way as her second self.

  “Not in the least,” he mumbled, but still snatched his wife's lips with his own and Severus jumped to the next memory.

  It was composed of short scraps of a conversation with Albus. Severus skipped the beginning and Hermione's attempts to distract the headmaster from her actions and focused on the interesting part, “What have you done, Hermione?”

  “Vicissitudo Virtus,” she reluctantly replied and held his gaze determinedly. 

  “Show me.”

  “What for?”

  He narrowed his eyes almost unnoticeable. “So we don't attack the wrong person should we ever be confronted with each other.”

  That explanation apparently made sense for Hermione and so she stood up. Nobody not knowing her would have seen that she tried to hide a certain level of nervousness. And that Severus noticed confused him.

  Hermione transformed into Adia. Albus scrutinised the woman in a blatant way normally only seen in certain nightclubs. Eventually, he nodded. “What is your name?”

  She quirked an eyebrow, smiling. “Adia Whitmore.” Her voice was an astounding deep baritone, especially for a woman.

  “Well, Miss Whitmore,” Albus said unfazed, “welcome to the team. Don't forget on which side you are fighting.”

  The dark-haired woman inclined her head. “I will heed your advice, sir.”

  Albus Dumbledore nodded pensively, apparently similarly unhappy with the persona Hermione had created as Severus. Adia transformed back into a Hermione who was obviously curious about what the headmaster would say about her disguise.

  “How do you get along with Miss Whitmore, Hermione?”

  She sat down again. “Really well. I can control her almost completely, I decide what she does and what she sees. I consciously give up control here and there but I still witness what is happening.”

  “An astounding accomplishment after such a short time. When did you take the potion?”

  “The day before yesterday.”

  “Astounding … really astounding.” Albus steepled his fingers. “And why, do you think, should Lucius Malfoy trust Miss Whitmore?”

  “He won't,” she replied. “But when he checks her identity he will find enough to be intrigued. Professor Flitwick and Arthur helped me.”

  Albus scrutinised her and Severus was sure that he would later question the two men about what exactly they had done. “Hermione, I would like to observe you and Miss Whitmore for a few days more before I let you work with her. Don't take it amiss but the experiences I have with Vicissitudo Virtus aren't the best.”

  “Of course.”

  Albus smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. “Maybe you should meet with Miss Tonks. She will be happy to learn more.”

  Severus skipped the conversation with Nymphadora. He only briefly peered at it and it very much looked like a women's talk. This was not the right time for such nonsense. He didn't know for how much longer Hermione would tolerate him in her mind, he had to make use of the time he had.

  So he jumped to the next memory which looked like the first meeting with the Death Eaters. Apparently, Albus had been satisfied with the backstory Hermione had created for Adia. It took place at the 'La Poule Noire', one of the most popular venues for Death Eaters, even more than the bar she'd visited earlier. The owner was a French man who had known nothing about the reputation of Knockturn Alley or the Death Eaters when he'd immigrated to Great Britain. And when he'd found out it had already been too late. Severus thought it bold of Hermione to get in contact there first, of all places, but after all, he couldn't change anything about that now. 

  Adia entered the smoky and loud anteroom and quite a few heads turned to her. Severus couldn't even blame the men. He himself would have gazed at her if he'd have sat there. Probably even when he'd known that Hermione was in that body.

  She slowed her pace, thrust her cloak into the waiter's hand and determinedly headed to the bar. Severus couldn't help wondering how much control Hermione had had over the body at that moment. Was she able to move like that as well?

  Adia sat down and bent over the counter so deeply that the sight of her bum earned her some whistles. Gazing over her shoulder, she silenced the men. 

  “May I offer you a drink?”

  Severus didn't know the man sitting down beside her. Adia examined him appraisingly and cocked an eyebrow. “I don't think so,” she finally said and loud laughter surged up behind them.

  Severus was sure Hermione had lost most of her control at this point – voluntarily or not he couldn't tell. But he knew her as his former student and even as the wife she was now and a side like this didn't exist within her. She'd never have missed out on an opportunity like that. 

  But Adia was rewarded instantly. Lucius Malfoy himself approached her from the other side shortly after. Severus didn't know he'd lowered himself to visit this pub. He'd thought Lucius would be above appearing here. Apparently, a lot had changed.

  “Are you here because you want to join our organisation or did you just get the wrong door?” Lucius didn't look at her when he spoke but gestured his order at the bartender instead – two Firewhisky, double for the lady.

  “There is no other door.” Adia smiled, her head slightly lowered, looking up at him. She held his gaze for long seconds.

  “I like observant women,” he eventually said, smiling. When he reached for his glass a seal ring on his finger glistened.

  Adia examined the ring conspicuously taking her own glass, raised it to him then and slid her tongue across her lower lip before she took a sip. She nodded approvingly. “Good vintage. Not the best, but still good.”

  Severus wondered whether this knowledge was Adia's or Hermione's. And then he remembered that she'd been working with Minerva for some years being an adult now. Certainly, she'd got to enjoy her exquisite collection of Firewhisky every now and then. Minerva had stood a round either when something great had happened or something terrible, preferably when Gryffindor had won the House Cup. Severus swallowed.

  “Observant and with good taste. Is there even more to you, Miss …” Lucius frowned and looked at her expectantly.

  “Whitmore. Adia Whitmore,” she replied smoothly.

  “Adia …” The name rolled over the blond man's tongue. “Have you been in Great Britain for long now?”

  “No,” Adia said slowly. “I was born and raised in the United States.”

  Lucius arched his eyebrows. “It doesn't show.”

  “I adapt quickly.” She slid the tip of her tongue across her upper lip.

  Lucius smiled. “Apparently, there is more to you, Adia.”

  “Apparently,” she echoed smirking. “Maybe you should find out for yourself.” And she surprised him once again by setting her glass to her lips and emptying it in one gulp, keeping a straight face.

  Another murmur went through the other men in the pub.

  And for Severus, another new and eerie behaviour of Hermione suddenly made sense.

  Lucius flashed a sharp glance at his followers. “I would very much like to,” he recollected himself then. “May I ask where I can find you?”

  Adia looked at him with the right amount of interest and hesitation before she straightened up and put her feet back onto the stone floor with the clicking sound of her shoes. Immediately all chats died out, even the bartender stopped polishing the glasses. “I think I will find you, Lucius,” she said in a deep voice. “Thank you for having me.”

  Without so much as casting a glance back, she strode along the small aisle between the tables, took her cloak from the hanger the waiter had put it and left the 'La Poule Noire'.

  Out on the street, Adia looked back at the pub, grinned, and transformed back into Hermione. Her cheeks were flushed in excitement and she chewed on her lip. 

  But that wasn't what he noticed first while she was standing there on the street. It was the irritatingly short skirt tightly covering her thighs and the white, barely closed shirt she wore with it. He didn't notice the clothes with Adia. It had been just another fitting aspect of her. But with Hermione … 

  She threw the cloak around her shoulders and Disapparated.

  And Severus went on to the next memory.

Chapter Text

  The next memory drifting by was completely irrelevant to Severus's purpose – but he still took a look at it. 

  Hermione was at the Order's headquarters and studied for – as far as he could tell – her healer's finals. At least the wand movements she practiced looked like it. It was absolutely quiet, maybe nighttime. She seemed to be at ease.

  Only at a second glance, Severus noticed the clothes she was wearing. That short shirt and the tight trousers, the high heels she'd slipped off by now, rubbing her bare feet against each other under the table. That wasn't Hermione's style. He frowned. Apparently, she'd been out and about as Adia again, establishing her relations with the Death Eaters before she'd returned to fulfill her obligations as an Order's healer in attendance. She looked tired and Severus wondered what Lucius had had Adia doing.

  Then the front door was kicked open brutally and barely a second later, Hermione was standing in the hall, wand raised to properly greet whoever was intruding. To her relief, it was the squad of Order members responsible for the patrol that night. 

  Severus knew these patrols and hated them passionately. Either nothing happened - or the worst and this time, it seemed to be the latter. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody supported a nearly unconscious Nymphadora Tonks. Hermione paled.

  “There were seven of them!” Alastor growled as if it hadn't been him bolting into the house but Hermione interrupting an ongoing argument. 

  She didn't seem to listen to him, though, her attention was completely focused on Nymphadora. She was injured, a big flesh wound on her abdomen that was bleeding heavily. 

  “We were ambushed! We …”

  “Alastor … just leave it be,” Nymphadora pleaded softly, trying to stand on her own two legs. Hermione had to quickly grab her arm to keep her from collapsing. 

  Kingsley picked her up and carried her into the kitchen while Ginevra Weasley appeared from upstairs. She wore a flowery pyjama and rubbed her eyes.

  “Ginny!” Hermione called when she spotted her. “Come down here, I need you.” She hurried after the others.

  With a lamp located directly over the table, the kitchen was the perfect place for trauma management. Hermione swayed her wand and an audible rustle coursed through the room. 

  “What was that?” Mad-Eye asked at once.

  Hermione rolled her eyes, Ginevra grinned. “Disinfection.”

  With that, Alastor gave a sharp nod and took his leave. As far as Severus knew, he always fled trauma management, even his own, explaining his appearance.

  Hermione rolled up her sleeves and approached the table. “Get the case from the library, Ginny,” she mumbled, carefully removing the blood-soaked shirt. “Do you know what hit you?” she asked, aimed at Nymphadora.

  In the meantime, Ginevra left the kitchen and Severus could hear her keeping some other Order members from entering. 

  “No, there was … a lot going on,” Nymphadora replied in a heavy voice and bent her legs as far as possible without disturbing Hermione. Her head lolled on the table.

  “Okay,” she replied calmly, not an inkling of worry or fear in her voice. She seemed to feel confident in this situation.

  Ginevra returned to the kitchen shortly after and put an old-fashioned doctor's case on a chair. Hermione turned to it and after a quick search through the many little pockets, she took a vial with a blueish potion from it. “Drink this!”

  Nymphadora did as she was told but she grimaced. “What is this?”

  “Blood Replenisher,” Hermione explained and wrinkled her nose while she cleaned the blood from the wound and swabbed it. “There will be a scar,” she mumbled absent-mindedly and drew her wand. 

  Fascinated, Severus watched her take a magically sealed package from the case, open it and let a thin thread hover in the air using her wand. Then she began stitching up the gaping wound. Her hands never touched the skin, it was her wand directing the thread through the edges of the wound in approximately an inch distance. Painlessly, as it seemed, since Nymphadora didn't utter a single sound.

  Severus had never been patched up with this kind of stitching. Or maybe he had; maybe Hermione had tended to his fresh wounds this way after she'd freed him from the shack. But he'd never experienced it. This method was still pretty new and Poppy had had more trust in the old ways. But what Hermione was doing looked quite elegant. After the last loop had been set and the thread had been knotted, a soft glow emitted from the wound. Directly after it, only a thin red line was visible on the otherwise pristine skin of the young woman. 

  “That's it,” Hermione said.

  Nymphadora sat up carefully and scrutinised her abdomen. “Cool!” she eventually said and grinned, her formerly grey hair already turning a soft pink again.

  Hermione rolled her eyes while she magically cleaned away the mess. “You have been lucky!”

  “Yes, that it has been you patching me up and not Poppy. Had she been here it wouldn't look half as cool.” Nymphadora winked at her. 

  “Poppy is an outstanding healer and she saved your neck more than once,” Hermione chided.

  “Yeah, sure. You know what I mean.”

  Ginevra and Kingsley exchanged a glance when Hermione said, “No, actually I don't. What exactly do you mean, Nymphadora?”

  The young Auror looked at her, exhausted. “Thank you, that's all,” she mumbled.

  Hermione's expression softened and averting her gaze, she nodded. “You're welcome.”

  The memory faded and another one started.

  He saw Hermione in the bathroom and normally, he wouldn't have taken a closer look at that. But she was fully dressed and a beaker containing a yellow shimmering liquid was standing on the edge of the sink in front of her. A pregnancy test. 

  Severus didn't want to know the result and at the same time, he wasn't able to look away.

  Even the magical version took a few minutes until it showed the result. But with this test, one knew instantly whether it was positive or negative.

  When sparks emitted from the beaker, exploding in a glistening cloud above it, Severus's gaze swayed to Hermione's face. How desired had this pregnancy been?

  Hermione took a step back and, closing her eyes, crossed her arms in front of her chest, frowning.

  Severus knew what she was doing. Knew it because her mind worked just like his, as he'd noticed several times while they'd worked together, and in a situation like this he would have done exactly the same: He would have gone through the brewing process in his mind just to be sure he could trust the result.

  Eventually, she sighed. It was a sigh weighing the war, her age, her mission and her general life planning against the life in her uterus. 

  Severus left the memory and lingered between this one and the next for a moment without looking at anything. He rehashed the last weeks. Hermione couldn't still be pregnant. She drank so much alcohol, she would never do that if she were pregnant. And she wouldn't let Adia do it either, no matter how big of an influence she might have on her by now.

  But what had happened to the child? Did the war, her age, her mission and her general life planning win? Did she terminate the pregnancy? Or did she lose the child? And if so, when had it happened?

  Severus tore himself from his thoughts. It took him a lot of effort to look at the next memories. And yet he did. After all, he was still a Slytherin.

  Hermione was sitting at the table in the kitchen all by herself, her hair still damp, maybe from showering, her chin in her hand. She seemed lost in thoughts when Albus entered the kitchen. She cast him a glance, looking as if he'd woken her from a daydream, and observed him sitting down. 

  “Nymphadora told me what happened the day before yesterday,” he said.

  Hermione wrinkled her nose. “Why doesn't she talk to me if she has a problem?”

  “She is worried.”

  “Oh, and then she tells you?”

  Albus kept quiet. He just looked at her. For a long time. Severus knew and hated this habit.

  It took Hermione approximately half a minute until she dropped her gaze and rubbed her forehead. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled.

  “It is a side effect of Vicissitudo Virtus, Hermione,” Albus explained as if the silent dispute hadn't even happened, “and Nymphadora told me because she knows I am informed about it.”

  Yes, Severus thought in a bout of sarcasm, Vicissitudo Virtus or a pregnancy. Or the combination of both.

  “What is a side effect? That I am permanently on the verge of freaking out?”

  Albus nodded. “I'm afraid so.”

  Hermione snorted softly. “That has to stop.”

  The old man frowned. “What do you plan to do?”

  She looked up at him determinedly. “Have a word with Adia, that's what I plan to do. I can't lose even more friends.”

  “I think we are not talking about losing yet. They are worried about you, like I am. It was a risky thing to do. I wish you had more time to get used to it.”

  “But I don't have time,” she said, crossing her arms.

  “No,” Albus admitted. “But still, you should take at least some time. Why don't you come in, Mr Weasley?”

  Just like Hermione, Severus looked at the kitchen door in surprise. It swung open a fraction and Ronald Weasley appeared in the gap. His ears were red when he entered and he only wore his pyjama pants, his arms folded in front of his bare chest. “Evenin',” he mumbled.

  Hermione smiled and stood up. “Good night, Albus,” she said and the old man tilted his head. Then she walked over to her husband, pecked him on the mouth and reached for his hand. “Let's go to sleep,” she murmured.

  “No, uhm … I got a call.” He shrugged his shoulders apologetically. 

  Hermione's expression hardened. “Oh.”

  Severus left the memory at this point. Why hadn't Hermione told Albus about the pregnancy? Why did she want to go on although her first priority should be her child now? Or did she really not plan to have this child?

  He pushed his musings aside and looked at a memory that must have happened directly after the former.

  Hermione stood at the foot of the bed and observed Ronald hurrying through the room tossing clothes onto the bed. A sock only half covering his foot and his jumper twisted so the sleeves protruded from his back and chest, he was hopping around between the furniture.

  “Ron, could you please stop for one second?” she begged him in an annoyed voice and clenched her teeth.

  “Sorry, love, we received a tip-off,” he said and didn't see his wife taking a deep breath to contain herself.

  “I have to talk to you, Ron!”

  “Can't that wait 'til later?” He cast her a glance.

  “No, it can't,” Hermione sighed, but so softly that Weasley didn't hear her. After some more senselessly hopping around, he finally sat down on the edge of the bed and first put on his sock, then his shoes, then he slipped into the sleeves of his jumper and pulled a beanie onto his red hair.

  Finally, he stood and after he'd thrown a cloak around his shoulders, he went to Hermione and took her face in his hands. “I'm sorry, I really have to go.”

  “Ronald Weasley! Move your arse!” Kingsley shouted from downstairs as if on cue.

  He turned to the door and answered, “Coming!” Then he faced Hermione again. “We'll talk later, okay?” He kissed her forehead and left before she even opened her eyes again.

  “Yes, sure,” Severus heard her mumble. She sat down on the bed and stared into the sudden silence of the room.

  But after a few seconds, she shook her head and rose. “Well, if you got a tip-off and are out and about …” she muttered softly and searched for her wand, tossing worn clothes around just like her husband had done mere minutes ago, “… then I can go on with my mission as well.” She finally found what she was looking for and two seconds later it wasn't Hermione anymore standing in the room but Adia.

  Severus watched her change. She let Hermione leave the house but when she was a few blocks away from headquarters, Adia appeared from the shadows with a determined expression on her face and Disapparated without missing a beat. 

  Severus wondered when exactly Hermione had decided not to drop the mission. Perhaps she hadn't told Albus because Weasley had the right to know first but it had not seemed like she had planned to go on looking for him, Severus, that night all along. On the contrary, it seemed to be a spontaneous decision and Severus couldn't help but think that Adia had been massively involved in making it.

  He saw her Apparate in Knockturn Alley and enter the 'La Poule Noire'. Severus watched her carefully. Adia had a style of moving … He'd thought that women had long lost that kind of influence on him but he responded to her. 

  Adia stopped on the threshold when she was able to oversee the public parlour. It was buzzing, everyone was donning their robes and putting on their masks. Still, she effortlessly redirected the attention of all men to herself. Most of them stopped short. 

  Eventually, one of them stepped from the group and took off his mask. It was Lucius Malfoy – Severus hadn't expected otherwise. His grey eyes glistened when he looked down at Adia; she was a bit taller than Hermione but still smaller than Lucius. But she could raise her chin just like him and she did. Severus could tell from the way they looked at each other that this was not just the second time they met. Lucius's half-hidden, smug grin … He was fond of Adia, maybe even enraptured, and Severus wondered if he would stay true to his own words about sex being a gift to share with the one person that meant the world to him.

  “Adia,” he practically purred.

  “Lucius.” She observed him and almost smiled. Almost …

  “What brings you here?”

  She shrugged and her gaze wandered through the room. “I was bored and thought maybe you … were up to something.” The corners of her mouth curled.

  Lucius arched an eyebrow and followed her gaze. “Maybe we are,” he said grinning. He briefly stopped and seemed to contemplate. Then he made a decision and turned back to her. “Are you interested in joining?”

  Her gaze wandered back to his pointy face. Severus thought he could almost see her eyes growing colder when Hermione completely disappeared into the depths of this foreign body. He had a strange urge to stop her somehow – until he came back to his senses and remembered that it was way too late to do anything about it now. 

  “Why not?” she just countered, barely loud enough for Severus to hear it. She held Lucius's gaze, as effortlessly as she'd drawn all the attention earlier. Lucius seemed impressed even though he tried to hide it. Severus only noticed it because he had known him for so long. 

  “Evan!” Lucius called without looking away from her. A smaller man appeared at Lucius's side and took off his Death Eater mask. Lucius turned to him reluctantly. “The potion,” he ordered and Severus knew what was about to happen. 

  But neither Adia nor Hermione seemed to know for the woman shifted with a tiny bout of anxiety – luckily it went unnoticed. They were all focused on Lucius, obviously surprised by his demand. Adia blinked several times and composed herself quickly.

  Evan Rosier returned with a small vial and handed it to Lucius. “Do you trust me, Adia?” he asked while he approached her. The whole group of Death Eaters, almost fifty of them, stood behind him in a half-circle and watched as a new member was admitted. 

  “Why should I?”

  Lucius drew the corner of his mouth up and stopped right in front of her. “Yes, why should you?” he whispered and reached out to lift her face a little. Adia let it happen. She even let him tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You won't be harmed. At least … not now.”

  Severus watched her gaze jumping between his eyes. Eventually, she nodded. 

  At that Lucius unstoppered the vial like only the Dark Lord had done it ever before. He lifted his hand and Adia intently observed his every movement. She didn't open her mouth but that wasn't necessary. Lucius held the small opening of the flask above her forehead and tilted it until the thick white potion slowly flowed down her face. 

  Adia instinctively closed her eyes and held her breath but didn't move otherwise. After approximately half a minute the potion had spread across her face and hardened to a white mask looking exactly like the others from the outside. Severus knew that it was perfectly fitted to her facial features on the inside. No Death Eater mask was the same, each of them was like a fingerprint. 

  She blinked behind the mask and Severus heard her take a deep breath. Lucius handed off the now-empty vial and Evan took it to dispose of it. Then Lucius gently grabbed the hood of Adia's robe and pulled it over her head until it reached down to where her eyebrows would have been. He looked her in the eyes.

  “Let's go!” he called at long last and finally, the Death Eaters got moving again. Lucius turned away and put his own mask back in place, then he led them all out of the pub. 

  Adia got in line with the group and only her jeans which were occasionally visible underneath her robe told Severus which one of the black figures she was. “Where are we going?” she asked someone walking on her right side.

  “House of the Minister of Magic.” It was hard to hear because the group didn't bother with being quiet. “Come!” he added and Adia whirled her head around startled when she suddenly found herself pressed against the unknown Death Eater who Disapparated with her.

  Severus didn't know the house of the Minister of Magic and in hindsight, he was glad he hadn't been part of this. He greatly disliked though, that Hermione – in whatever form – had been in the thick of it.

  But to his surprise (and apparently to the surprise of all of the other Death Eaters) they were welcomed duly. So this had been the tip-off the Order had got.

  Adia disappeared in the turmoil. With her mask and her robe, she was indistinguishable from the other Death Eaters and was busy defending herself against the attacks of her opponents who actually were her allies. Repeatedly, Curses were thrown her way; only the brightly lit windows of the head of the government's house cast enough light to keep track of everything. 

  Severus saw her fling herself to the ground, her hood sliding from her head. Dark hair swayed through the cool air when she whirled around, pointing her wand as unobtrusively as possible at another Death Eater. “Stupefy!” she mumbled and the next moment the man fell.

  Severus hoped she hadn't sacrificed her cover and everything she'd achieved up to now with this decision. Adia seemed to be concerned about it as well since she observed her surroundings critically. 

  And she found what she least wanted to find: One of the black figures was standing amidst the chaos, staring at her. Severus tried to see through the eye slits of the mask who it was. Grey. But was it Draco or Lucius? The two men had a quite similar body shape and through the hood, he wasn't able to see the length of the hair. 

  Adia, however, didn't hesitate. She lifted her wand and said, “Obliviate!”

  But Malfoy was quicker and cast a shield charm. Nonverbally.

  She had to crouch down to not get hit by her own charm. Then she jumped to her feet. With a few wide strides, she approached him and tore the hood from his head. Short blond hair. Draco Malfoy.

  She snorted, raised her wand again but Draco grabbed her wrist. “Hands off my memories,” he snarled, “or you will regret it.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Then you better keep my … little mistake a secret, sweetie.”

  Draco laughed derisively. “If only you knew …” he growled and let her go. Mere seconds later he had disappeared.

  Adia cursed under her breath and ducked away from a red ball of magic that collided with the wall behind her. Looking for the source, her wand tip suddenly pointed at Kingsley Shacklebolt. She didn't think twice, mumbled a weak “Stupefy!” and floored him for three minutes at best. 

  Severus knew that even these three minutes could be enough to get him killed but a really powerful Stupefy could effortlessly take a man like Kingsley out for several hours.

  While she turned away she groped for her hood and covered her head again. She moved straight through the turmoil to the other side of the house. Screams, smoke and the glistening of curses filled the air. The Order's members had spread across the whole estate, the shock effect was still theirs. 

  Adia wormed her way through several groups and tried to seem as busy as possible. She couldn't fight openly, either for one side or the other. Severus knew the conflict she was trapped in.

  But suddenly, all of that lost its relevance.

  Not only Adia faltered when she saw what was happening in front of her. Even Severus stared at the redhead who was immersed in a duel with a Death Eater while Lucius Malfoy approached him from behind. 

  And nobody had a chance to warn Ronald Weasley. Adia was hit in the head by a curse that threw her to the ground with a bleeding cut and nobody else noticed what was happening. The “Avada kedavra!” seemed to echo across the scene louder than anything else. The body of the young man froze mid-movement, then it fell to the ground with a dull thump.

  Nobody had been there to cover his rear.

Chapter Text

  Nobody had been there to cover his rear.

  That thought wasn't Severus's. It echoed through Hermione's mind like a scream when he reached that part of the memory. Cover … Severus remembered what she'd said to Albus. Covering Weasley had been her job in this Order's squad. 

  Severus could feel how much disbelief was still connected with this memory. Hermione was a widow. And it had happened only two or three months ago. Yet it was mere disbelief he felt from her. No pain, no grief.

  But once again everything suddenly seemed to make sense.

  The other part of her resentment against him, of that he was sure now, was due to the fact that his rescue had been the reason Weasley's backup had been acting on the wrong side. He, Severus, was for Hermione what Harry Potter had been for him – a constant reminder of the person she had lost. 

  The next memory Severus saw happened in complete silence. Hermione stepped into a dark room. Behind her, someone conjured a soft warm light, a little ball floating up to the ceiling and staying there trembling. Ronald Weasley's dead body became visible. He was laying on a table, covered with a sheet up to his chest. 

  Hermione slowly moved closer and looked down at her husband. On her forehead, Severus saw the shiny red scar the curse she herself had been hit with had left. Vicissitudo Virtus didn't prevent Adia's wounds from being Hermione's as well. 

  Eventually, she reached out her hand. Her fingers were trembling. The closer she got to Ronald's ashen face, the worse it got. Carefully she laid her fingertips on his forehead and gasped. She stroked a strand of his red hair back. Severus could see the colour draining from her face and he hoped that somebody would catch her.

  But Hermione didn't collapse, she only closed her eyes for a second and grabbed onto the table. Regaining her composure, her fingers trailed along the lines of Ronald's face and finally, she bent down to kiss his forehead. 

  “What I wanted to tell you …” she breathed with closed eyes and then kissed the tip of his nose.

  “What had to wait …” Her lips met his closed eyelids.

  “What you will never know …” First his right, then his left cheek.

  “I am pregnant.” She finally kissed his pale lips. “I love you, Ron.” Took his hand. “Promise me to take care of me, okay?” Lifted his hand to her face and caressed her cheek with the back of it. “Of us.”

  When she put his hand onto her still flat belly Severus left this memory and simultaneously entered the next. 

  Even if he hadn't been captured and tortured throughout this time Severus wouldn't have shown up to this event. But here, in Hermione's memories, he couldn't help but cast at least a glance at her husband's funeral. 

  It took place under the warm sun of a spring day. It had to be late spring since the trees were covered in fresh green leaves. The group around the grave was huge, undoubtedly because of Weasley's position within the Order and the Ministry of Magic. Hermione was standing at the front next to Molly and Arthur Weasley and although Molly had slung an arm around Hermione's back she seemed utterly lost and lonely.

  She'd firmly crossed her arms in front of her lean body, her hair wound into the tight bun she'd already worn at her wedding. Her expression was blank and she didn't seem to hear the words that were spoken; Severus couldn't understand anything of it in her memory.

  He felt the sudden urge to go to her and shove Molly aside. Instead, he shoved that sentiment aside. His support would have been the last she would have wanted on that day.

  Eventually, Hermione approached the edge of the grave. She was holding a white rose and Severus was surprised that her fingers were perfectly calm this time. She stood there for a long time, her black skirt flapping in the spring wind. She kissed the petals and dropped the rose into the grave. 

  The flower met the coffin with a dull thump and Hermione abruptly turned away. Only when she'd done the first few steps she started swaying. It was Charlie Weasley hurriedly stepping up to her and catching her arm.

  “I'm fine,” she mumbled and wrestled from his grip.

  Kingsley approached them, Nymphadora only a step behind. “I will take her home,” he said and ignored Hermione shaking her head no.

  “Hermione, you have to rest,” Nymphadora implored.

  Hermione looked up, tears glistening in her eyes.

  Seeing her like this … It was as if Severus was carried back to her school years. Hermione looked so young and vulnerable, she shouldn't be the one standing at her husband's grave. She shouldn't have been standing at her best friend's grave either, and her best friend shouldn't have been the one to kill the Dark Lord. They were all just children stumbling through a war that wasn't theirs.

  Nymphadora took a hitching breath and pulled Hermione into her arms. Kingsley grabbed both women and Disapparated with them.

  The memories Severus saw after this moment were the transformation of the Hermione Granger he had known to the Hermione Weasley she was today – step by step. 

  The first step happened after Kingsley had taken them to Nymphadora's flat. She struggled from the embrace and put her hands up, her eyes full of unshed tears. “Please don't … touch me,” she said snuffling.

  Nymphadora seemed lost standing in her own parlour and observed Hermione. “Maybe you should lay down for a while,” she suggested.

  Hermione shook her head. “I have to go. Please, I … I just can't.” She whirled around and stormed from the flat down onto London's streets. When she'd got a few intersecting streets between herself and Nymphadora's flat, she turned into Adia and Disapparated.

  The second step occurred an undefined time later. Severus assumed that it couldn't have been that long since the funeral, maybe the night after. Hermione was at headquarters, sitting in the small library. Books and tools of a healer surrounded her and it wasn't hard to guess that she was studying for her finals. She'd drawn one foot onto her chair and ignored the trembling of her body.

  Ginevra slowly drew nearer and leaned against a bookshelf, her eyes red-rimmed and her arms crossed. She watched Hermione for a while who certainly noticed it but didn't even blink.

  “Mione,” Ginevra eventually said and went to the table. “It's half past three. Don't you want to go to bed?”

  Hermione shook her head no. “I have to go through this once more.” Dark circles shadowed her eyes, a stark contrast to her pale face.

  “We both know you already know all of this by heart.” Ginevra put her hands onto the pages of the book Hermione was reading.

  She jerked her head up to glare at her friend. “Stop it, Ginny!” She pulled the book from under the redhead's hands. “Stop telling me what I know and what I don't! Just leave me alone!” She slammed the book shut and stormed from the library.

  The third step was putting her mission above everything else – especially above herself.

  Albus had ordered her in for a talk and Severus felt her sullen expression deeply. Albus always wanted to talk in these moments.

  “How are you, Hermione?”

  “Fine.”

  Even here in Hermione's memories, Severus had half a mind to scoff. What else could she possibly have said?

  Albus frowned. “Well, a silly question, of course.”

  Hermione sighed. “I'm all right, professor.”

  “I know.”

  The way he said it made Hermione look away. She clenched her teeth.

  “Why I asked you to come by …” Albus steepled his fingers, his frown deepened. “I understand it if you want to stop working on your mission. I will find someone else to look for Severus.”

  Hermione stared at him blankly. “What?”

  Albus's expression softened. “Hermione, it is a hard time for you, you certainly do have other issues on your mind.”

  She snorted. “First and foremost, I have Adia in my mind! You can't remove me from this mission! I'm in with the Death Eaters! I can get down to the root of them. Adia is twisting Lucius Malfoy around her little finger and I'm not willing to give up now!”

  Albus regarded her intently. “Are you sure you are able to go on?”

  “I am.”

  He held her gaze for a moment, then he sighed. “Very well.”

  An instant and fierce wave of rancour shot through Severus with this decision. How could the war be more important to Albus than the lives of his allies? How could he sit in front of the last of the Golden Trio and let her return to the Death Eaters? How could he still not know that Hermione kept a pregnancy from him? He always knew everything, why didn't he know that?

  The next memory pulled him from his anger.

  It was the fourth step and she probably only took it because of a heedless remark.

  She uttered it at a Death Eater meeting. Perhaps not being Hermione for a while, the woman who'd lost her husband, but Adia, the woman who gave Lucius Malfoy the run-around, was such a relief that she got a bit reckless. Or perhaps Hermione didn't have anything to do with it.

  “You're unable to find the Mudblood, you're unable to find the recipe … What am I to do with you, Rookwood?” Lucius asked silkily. 

  The pockmarked man lowered his gaze. “I … the … the thing is that Snape didn't label his recipes clearly, sir.”

  Of course, he hadn't. Why should he? He knew which recipe described what potion and if nobody else knew it, well, that obviously could only be of advantage.

  Severus had a suspicion of what Lucius was looking for. He was running out of the potion he needed to create the Death Eater masks. What the Dark Mark had been for the Dark Lord apparently were the masks for Lucius: You were only in if you had a mask. The Dark Mark however was reserved for the original Death Eaters. Only those who'd already served the Dark Lord were worthy of bearing it. That was why he'd tried to burn it from Severus's arm.

  His fixation on the masks was presenting him with a problem though. He glared at Rookwood.

  And then Adia said, “Snape would have been stupid to do so.” 

  Everyone looked at her. She raised her chin and took the mask off. Her dark hair flowed over her shoulders and her back like liquid silk. She indicated a bow at Lucius.

  “Adia … I'm not fond of unnecessary remarks, so tell me, was this an unnecessary remark, or is there more to it?” Lucius asked. 

  “I don't make unnecessary remarks,” Adia countered. Her dark voice echoed in the hall. “Let me see the recipes. I will find the right one.”

  Lucius snorted softly. “Another well-kept trait?”

  “Indeed.”

  The room was silent for a moment. And then Lucius pushed her across the point of no return. “Take her to Snape's house!” 

  Another Death Eater stepped out of the crowd and took off his mask. “Let me do it, father.” Draco Malfoy.

  Lucius regarded his son appraisingly. At long last, he nodded and waved his agreement.

  Draco approached Adia and left the hall with her. He hurried along the corridors, Adia fell back. About to turn a corner, he looked back and waited for her to catch up. Since they were far away from the other Death Eaters and prying eyes now he pressed her against a wall. “Well, Granger, how is it that we meet again here?”

  Adia frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Draco barked a laugh. “Oh, come on! How do you do it? Polyjuice Potion? A Charm? Cosmetic surgery?” He smirked.

  She shoved him away so he collided with the opposite wall, visibly surprised by her strength. Now it was her pinning him against the hard surface. “I recommend you keep this to yourself, Malfoy.”

  He grinned. “I knew it! I saw it in your eyes when your lap dog died. How come you don't act like the mourning widow you ought to be?”

  Adia snorted. “Because I'm not! And now take me to Snape's house. We have a mission to accomplish.”

  From there on, the memories passed him by more quickly, as if they were in a hurry to be seen. 

  He watched Hermione get the recipe for the potion and brew it. Draco consented to help her in exchange for a hideout. Severus only briefly listened in to the talk with Albus, nothing surprising occurred in it – besides the revelation that it really had been Draco who'd told Albus about Severus's capture. Apparently, he'd sent anonymous tips to the Order before that as well, including the one about the attack on the Minister's house. 

  Draco had had a few ideas where Severus could have been held captive. His prison had only been accessible with a Portkey that Lucius hid meticulously and only rarely handed to anyone. Adia tried to coax the hiding place out of him in her own way. But Lucius actually stuck to the little speech he'd held Severus: Sex would never again be a weakness of him. And although he was fond of Adia it didn't go that far.

  Hermione took a look at the places Draco had listed in her own persona, hiding her scar under a Disillusionment Charm; as Severus knew first hand, nothing could have been more fatal than Lucius noticing that one of his by then most favourite allies was actually spying for the other side. And as it happened, she was actually ambushed when she returned from one of her excursions. 

  They were five Death Eaters.

  Hermione held herself well but not well enough. Not by herself. She succeeded in not letting Adia get visible but Severus noticed the change in her fighting style. It was no longer Hermione fighting them. Apparently, she'd managed to bond with Adia so deeply that she could let her fight without changing her appearance. 

  It only took them a few minutes to get two of the Death Eaters to fight each other, both firmly convinced they were fighting Hermione. The others were down, either Stupefied or restrained. 

  “I'm really sorry but I don't have time for things like this,” Hermione muttered and wiped a trace of blood from her mouth.

  And overshadowing all of this was the upcoming final exam she mostly studied for in the depth of night. When Hermione recently had said she'd looked for him almost day and night Severus had thought she was exaggerating. But she actually didn't sleep much throughout that time and when she got physical symptoms because of it she developed the sleeping potion she'd also given to him within one night. Severus was deeply impressed with her accomplishment; although she was a good healer, an outstanding one, in fact, he took a look at her finals – she would become an even better Potions Mistress when he was finished educating her. 

  Severus saw another memory in which she was brewing the mask potion looking like Adia and being supervised by Draco. And again she questioned him about that one time that he'd visited Severus. He'd got so close and Hermione obviously wasn't willing to let go of it.

  Draco groaned and wrinkled his nose. “I've told you everything I know, Granger! Father gave me the Portkey, I arrived in the dungeons. I have no idea where they are! I got into his cell and …” He stopped himself. “When I left him later I puked in the hallway and got away as fast as I could!” He drew his fingers through his hair. “I'm glad the damned house-elf didn't tell father about it …”

  Adia who probably was more Hermione at this moment froze mid-movement. “The what?” she asked.

  Draco looked at her with confusion.

  “The house-elf?”

  He shrugged. “Yes, there was a house-elf with a tray of food. Why?”

  Hermione pursed her lips, closed her eyes, and exhaled slowly. “The damned house-elves know where this prison is and you only now remember to tell me?”

  Severus left the memory. He didn't need to see how Hermione chided Draco because he forgot to mention this detail. He wasn't even surprised. Draco, who'd grown up surrounded by house-elves. Draco, who'd paid them as much attention as a vase or a chair. Draco, whose interest in house-elves was so minuscule that he wasn't aware of what their presence down there meant. He simply was a lousy spy. 

  After that, Adia spent as much time at Malfoy Manor as she was able to justify and tried to get in contact with the elves. Throughout this time, Albus called her in several times. He warned her to choose a less reckless approach. Hermione ignored him just as she ignored Ginevra and Nymphadora. She simply refused to listen to them. 

  The only time she visited Albus of her own free will, she stormed into his office without knocking greeting him. She just called, “Professor McGonagall disappeared?”

  Albus seemed to ponder what to tell her but at long last, he nodded. “I'm afraid so.”

  “Let me look for her as well! I'm sure Malfoy is behind it, I can find them both!”

  “No.”

  Hermione laughed, mirthlessly. “What do you mean, no?”

  “No, Hermione, you will not look for Minerva. Your target is Severus and you will not let yourself be distracted. Half of the Order is looking for Minerva, she is our top priority. But you will focus on Severus, do I make myself clear?”

  “No! If they are both in Malfoy's hands I can get them both out of there!”

  “Miss Granger!” Albus exclaimed sharply. Every spark, every smile had disappeared from his eyes. There was nothing friendly left when he got to his feet now. “Miss Whitmore will not receive any further assignments! You will find Severus and when you got him you will disappear out of this war just like him.” He then explained his plan with the safe house and the severed reality to her. “You will go to this house together with Severus.”

  She gasped. “Why?”

  “Because you are reckless and you are endangering the Order and yourself. You don't have control over your second personality. Besides, Severus will need a healer if you should be able to free him alive.”

  “I will get him out of there alive, you can bet on it! And I can get Professor McGonagall out as well! I do have control over Adia! And I won't set a foot in this house!”

  “I cannot and I will not let you work for the Order any longer. You either agree to focus solely on Severus's rescue and to hide with him in that house or I will immediately cancel your mission and hide you in a safe place at once.” His blue eyes glistened. 

  Hermione ground her teeth. “Fine!” she finally snapped. She whirled around and stormed from the office just like she'd entered it.

  If only Albus had taken her out of the game at this point … 

  During the following days, she checked each and every single hint Draco had given her again, went on to curry favour with Lucius, tried to talk to the house-elves of Malfoy Manor (all of it in vain), took note of Poppy's death (she actually barely reacted to this information), and eventually stood in Hogwarts' kitchens to talk with Dobby. Since he hadn't set foot into Malfoy Manor for more than nine years he'd been the last straw she could clutch at. A straw that turned out to be a key.

  He not only told her that the cells Lucius had kept the Dark Lord's and now his own prisoners in were at a storey beneath the basement of Malfoy Manor, but also gave her the name of a house-elf that apparently hadn't been as obedient as all of the others. He mentioned some passive-aggressive things the elf had done while Dobby had still been there (like shifting the furniture an inch so Lucius kept bumping into it or unobtrusively replacing things) and although chances were low that this elf was still at Malfoy Manor, Hermione coerced Draco into giving her a reason to stay for a night. She went after the elf and actually found him only to blackmail him into taking her down to the cells.

  Eventually, she stood in the room Severus was no longer kept in.

  Only traces of his stay were still visible. Blood on the floor and at the walls, chains still dangling from the ceiling. Severus watched Hermione look around in Adia's form and find a black hair. 

  The memory broke off and it was a moment at Albus's office again that he visited next. This time, Albus looked very serious. He didn't ask Hermione to sit down, she did it of her own accord. “What has happened?” she asked.

  “Draco Malfoy is dead.”

  She seemed troubled. Flashes of all kinds of emotions flitted across her face and eventually, she nodded mechanically. “Okay,” she said, stood and left the office without looking back.

  Severus swallowed. The transformation into the Hermione he got to know recently was complete.

  From that moment onwards, she went out on a limb to gather information, she even twisted Walden Macnair around her finger enough for him to not only let some details slip but also take her to the island where they kept Severus by then. He didn't remember them visiting, he hadn't been present. But he saw Adia pondering whether she could successfully duel Macnair right then and there. It was most likely Hermione stopping her; she'd never liked going into a battle unprepared and she probably hadn't had any potions with her to cocker him up sufficiently. 

  Finally, Severus watched her storming the shack, freeing him, fighting the Death Eaters, getting hurled against the wall and Apparating with him to this thrice-damned house. 

  The door fell shut behind them, the Charm spread.

  “Great performance, Miss Granger,” he heard himself say before he lost his consciousness. He tried to ignore how little he had resembled himself back then; Hermione had really done a good job healing him.

  After he'd blacked out, Hermione no longer managed to hide her own injuries, though. She pressed her hand to her lower abdomen, collapsed on the wooden floor and screamed.

  “Nonono, please, no!” she sobbed. “Forgive me, little one. Please, don't leave me …” But a dark stain spread on her trousers. 

  The Hermione in whose mind Severus was right now stirred. She pushed him from her memories and Severus let her. He'd seen everything he had to see. He blinked and gasped for air. Then he met her gaze.

  Her eyes were two small slits. “Are you happy now?” she hissed. Although he'd seen it coming, the contempt in her face hit him hard.

  “No,” he replied and drew his hand across his face. After all this time in her mind, he felt odd being in his own again. Her memories, her emotions stuck with him like old sweat. 

  But the longer he was back in his own mind and able to think clearly without getting distracted by her memories, the more he found it odd how organised her mind had been. The mind of an unconscious person should be chaos. An unbridled, uncontrollable chaos. Finding memories in chronological order just didn't fit the mould. “You've been awake the whole time,” he eventually concluded.

  Hermione looked away.

  “Why?” he just asked. Why hadn't she pushed him out of her mind instantly? Why had she let him see all of these memories? Why had she shown them to him organised like this?

  Hermione ground her teeth. Then she staggered to her feet and snatched her wand from his hand before she stumbled out of the parlour.

– End of part I – 

Chapter Text

– Part II – 
Of Playing With the Devil

- - -

I know, the further I go,
the harder I try, only keeps my eyes closed.
And somehow I've fallen in love
with this middle ground at the cost of my soul.
Yet I know, if I stepped aside,
released the controls, you would open my eyes.
That somehow all of this mess
is just my attempt to know the worth of my life.

(Sleeping at Last – Mercury)

  That night, Severus took Hermione's sleeping potion. He had something to do before she got up and after four hours of sleep, he was awake again and still amazed by how rested he felt. But now that he knew under which circumstances she'd developed this potion this experience was a bit tinged with bitterness.

  He got up and peered into her room, just to make sure she was all right. And she seemed to be. Asleep, still completely dressed, hunched up in the fetal position. 

  Severus went down to the lab. The sober-up potion he'd given her earlier was one of his concoctions. It was fast to brew and very effective - the reason why he'd decided to brew it yesterday - but it wasn't storable and decayed after only two days.

  And none of the known hangover-relief potions was able to dampen or vanish the consequences of having been drunk.

  It was meant to teach his House's students a lesson. A lesson most of the Slytherins still had to learn: There wasn't an easy solution for every problem. Sometimes you had to suffer the consequences of your decisions no matter how severe they were. 

  But he had developed an effective hangover-relief potion. Not with the intention of giving it to his students, naturally. It just wasn't like him to leave gaps in his development. And now, that characteristic of him paid off. He would brew it for Hermione because if there was one lesson she had learned, then that decisions sometimes had irrevocable consequences. 

  Plus he needed to speak with her later. 

  While he fetched and prepared the ingredients he mulled over her memories. Adia … Now that he knew that she was in Hermione's mind a lot began to make sense. At all of the moments he'd hardly recognised Hermione Adia had most likely been lurking close to the surface. Too close. 

  He thought about the memory in which she'd had to fight the Death Eaters. Hermione had handed over the reins to Adia without changing her appearance. He also thought about the brewing for Lucius. Doubtlessly, Adia had left the field to Hermione at that instance without letting her show. Vicissitudo Virtus wasn't Severus's forte but this level of bonding was at least unsettling. He wondered how much control Hermione had already abdicated to Adia. How often she let Adia act without changing to her persona. And whether she was even aware of it. 

  But not only Adia circled through his mind. He also thought about his second diary. The diary Hermione had taken with her when she'd been in his house and that hadn't been amongst his personal items. He was sure she'd brought it here. She'd have never left it behind. He just didn't know why she hadn't given it back to him. And it irked him. He'd written down extremely personal thoughts in that diary. Incoherent thoughts. Muddled thoughts. Nothing of it was meant to be seen by anyone, at this point not even by himself anymore. 

  Severus clicked his tongue, stopping himself from musing about the whole matter when he put the cauldron over the fire and started brewing. He had to focus.

  After Severus had completed the potion he took a closer look at the stack of books in the house for the first time since he'd come here. He knew Albus. There was no way he would lock him up here with Hermione and not give him some literature about Vicissitudo Virtus. But considering his wariness regarding Adia he surely would have hidden it from her. 

  He slowly strode along the bookshelf, his head tilted reading the titles. He found what he was looking for on the lowest shelf. Between Introduction to Arithmancy by Oleander Roots and 1001 Plants and Herbs by Lake Oakwood was a book by Libatius Borage. Severus bristled. He hated Libatius Borage! And Albus knew it. Hermione probably did not. It was a potions book, it wouldn't stand out to her. But it did to him. Perhaps he would have noticed it much earlier had he not been so occupied processing his past months. Perhaps Albus had planned for him to notice something was odd with her a lot earlier. 

  Severus took the book and he'd barely touched it when it changed in his hands. Its amount of pages grew while it shrunk a bit, the cover's colour changed from a dark blue to a brown, and the title now read Magical Shapeshifting – Possibilities and Risks. Severus snorted softly.

  He took it with him and went to the kitchen. His stomach had been growling for some time now; after he had eaten little to nothing throughout the last days it was high time for breakfast.

  Severus was sitting in the kitchen reading the discourse about Vicissitudo Virtus when he heard Hermione descend the stairs. While she went down to the basement, undoubtedly to fetch a hangover-relief potion of which she had several vials in stock, he closed the book and slipped it onto the bench next to him along with his notes. 

  He looked down into his mug and listened. It took her about three minutes to get back upstairs, her steps sounding more vigorous now. Eventually, she appeared in the door frame and glared at him with narrowed eyes. “What kind of potion have you given to me, Snape?”

  Severus arched an eyebrow. So they were on last-name terms again … Very well. “A development by me. My House's students deserved punishment if they needed it.” He reached for the vial with the effective hangover-relief potion and put it on the table in front of her, gesturing for her to try it. 

  Hermione hesitated, eying him suspiciously. But at long last, she took the three steps to the table, slumped into a chair and downed the potion. It was quick to take effect and she sighed in relief, savouring the absence of pain for a few seconds. Severus knew this moment. Best feeling ever. 

  Finally, she blinked. “Why do you give me this?”

  “I don't have to teach you that some decisions have unpleasant consequences.”

  She looked at him a bit longer before she lowered her gaze. Her hair was dull and lanky, a bushy wreath around her pale face.

  “Besides, we need to talk.”

  “Yes,” she mumbled. “What were you even thinking?”

  “Does it really matter?”

  She wrinkled her nose, saying nothing.

  “Why did you show me all of these memories?” he asked. She'd given him no answer last night.

  “Does that really matter?” she countered.

  Probably not. Severus looked down into his mug again. “I am very sorry that you lost your husband, Miss Granger. And your …”

  “Don't!” she interrupted him and lifted her hand. It trembled. Then she ran it across her mouth. “Don't say it.”

  Severus exhaled slowly. “I am also sorry that you are trapped here with me, of all people.”

  “Wasn't your decision,” she mumbled dully. She sat at the table with her eyes closed for several heartbeats, clenching the empty vial in her hand. “Thank you,” she almost choked out, “for your help yesterday.”

  “I'd say it was my pleasure but it wasn't,” he replied.

  She gulped. “I'm sorry you found me like that.”

  Severus nodded.

  Then she looked up at him, her eyes narrowed again. “Don't you want to apologise as well?”

  “No,” he said. “I don't regret what I did.”

  Hermione scoffed and shook her head. “How on earth did I even end up thinking that you may have developed some morals over the past years?” she muttered. 

  “I do have morals, Miss Granger. But I don't see anything I should feel sorry about considering how eager you were to show me your memories.”

  She flashed him an angry glance. “You would have looked at them even if I hadn't shown you anything! Probably even more …”

  “And if that had been the case I would apologise.”

  “You are a bastard,” she huffed bitterly. 

  Severus snorted. “I assure you, my parents – as incompetent as they have been – were in fact married when I was born.” He took a sip of his coffee. 

  She ran her sprawled fingers through her hair, pressing her forehead into her palms. “Didn't you say you wanted to talk with me?” she finally asked in a tired voice and her red eyes met his.

  “Yes. We need to talk about Adia.”

  Hermione straightened on her chair. “Why?”

  “You are very … close.”

  She huffed and crossed her arms above her chest. “I share a body with her, of course we are close.”

  “Yes,” he mumbled. “But is it still your decision whether Adia is in control?”

  “Of course it is!” she exclaimed indignantly.

  Severus observed her, didn't take his eyes from hers, not even for a glance. And then he saw it: The hazel colour of her irises flickered, darkened for a split second. “Of course,” he repeated, took the book and his notes, and stood. “You should rest for a bit longer, Miss Granger.” Then he left the kitchen.

  That afternoon Severus wandered along the dimension barrier in the back garden. His arms crossed and frowning deeply he observed the blurred behind. “Do you hear me, Albus?” he asked eventually, a bit louder than he'd have done it had they been standing next to each other.

  He had to wait for almost a minute but then he heard the quiet response, “Yes, I hear you.”

  Severus huffed. It was oddly satisfying to be in the right. Albus not only would never lock him up here without information about Vicissitudo Virtus, he also would never sever the connection completely considering in what condition he and Hermione had arrived here. 

  Severus turned his back to the barrier and leaned against it. This way he could watch the terrace door. He didn't know whether Hermione knew about this way of contacting the outside but he didn't want her to overhear this talk. “Where is my new wand?”

  “I did not have the opportunity to obtain one so far. I was away for a few weeks, just returned last night. The house-elves took care of your orders.”

  And house-elves couldn't buy wands. Severus wrinkled his nose. “How much do you witness of what is happening in here?”

  “A tad,” Albus replied. His voice sounded muffled as if he would speak in his normal volume from one side of the Great Hall to Severus standing at the other side. He had to be careful not to miss something. “I still do have to wage a war but I witness a tad when I'm around.”

  “Have you ever seen Adia making an appearance since we arrived?” In the patch Severus was standing close to, the gnome peeked from his burrow and observed Severus curiously. 

  Albus remained silent for a while. “Yes,” he finally said. Severus thought he heard him sigh. “When you arrived. After she … When Hermione had lost the child Adia took over and tended to your injuries.”

  Severus closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How could you have missed that she was pregnant?”

  “As I said, I do have to wage a war.”

  “Yes,” Severus muttered, curling his lip. The barrier was warm against his back, the sun was shining directly on it. “Did she make another appearance?”

  “Not as far as I know. Why do you ask?”

  “I think she gains more and more control over … Mrs Weasley. I think she is able to operate the body without changing her appearance by now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Severus rolled his eyes. “Of course, I am not sure! Not completely that is. Do you think she voluntarily tells me about it? I am still me, Albus.” The reason for her family's demise. He cast an angry glance over his shoulder as if Albus was standing on the other side of the barrier. “And even if she would … I don't know how aware she is of it.” He clicked his tongue. “But at least I am reasonably suspicious. I only just saw her eyes change. Something is wrong.”

  Albus didn't reply for a long time. “Try to help her, Severus,” he finally said.

  “And how am I supposed to do that? There is no way to revise Vicissitudo Virtus!”

  “That is not quite true,” Albus objected. “So far nobody had enough time to try. The different personalities always destroyed each other too quickly.”

  “Well, that changes everything,” Severus growled and massaged his temples, trying to relieve the pain that was knotting up between them.

  “Vicissitudo Virtus is a potion, Severus. That is your field of expertise. If anybody is able to help her, it is you.”

  “If you haven't noticed: You imprisoned us here, Albus! I can't do any research! I only got a tiny lab! These are not exactly ideal conditions!”

  “The conditions could be worse.”

  Severus closed his eyes. It could always be worse! But of course, he would try, how could he not? “I need your help to help her,” he said at long last. “First and foremost I need a damn wand! And more literature. The book you gave me was a good start but I need more. I need everything you find about attempts to reverse Vicissitudo Virtus. And I need everything you find about Polyjuice Potion.”

  “I will get you everything you need and place a box in the pantry only you will be able to open. We should keep Mrs Weasley and Miss Whitmore out of the picture for as long as possible.”

  “Yes,” Severus snarled. Making Hermione aware of the possibility that she maybe didn't have complete control over Adia anymore would most likely raise problems as it was; but she didn't need to know that Severus was looking for a way to reverse the Vicissitudo Virtus earlier than strictly necessary. “Oh, and send some liquorice, Albus!”

  He heard the headmaster huff. “What was your old wand made of?” he asked.

  “Pine with a core of dragon heartstring, eleven and a half inches,” Severus said.

  “I will take care of it,” Albus promised.

  “About time,” Severus mumbled, pushed off the barrier and returned to the house.

  When he went up to his room later that day he heard Hermione mumble in hers. Severus hesitated briefly before he approached her door and leaned his ear against it. 

  “No,” she said, “no, no, no, no!” Then a soft moan, a whimper.

  He opened the door and peered into the room. It was darkened and stuffy, lacking fresh air. She seemed to be asleep but not particularly peacefully as it seemed. “Stay,” she just mumbled and tossed her head around.

  Severus stepped closer. “Miss Granger!” he said loudly but she didn't react. She only frowned, breathing heavily. He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Miss Granger!” he repeated and with that, she woke up.

  She flinched and stared at him, her eyes wide, before she retreated from his touch. She sat up panting, leaning her back against the wall and ran her hands across her face. “What are you doing here?” she asked him through her fingers.

  “Waking you from a nightmare, just like you did.” He stood sidelong to the bed and looked down at her. “Perhaps you should consider your own treatment, Miss Granger.”

  She put her head in her hand. “That won't work.”

  Severus raised his eyebrows and waited but she kept silent. “Because?” he finally drawled.

  “Because my mind is not mine alone!”

  He looked around, pulled a chair from under the table, and sat down. “I think it is about time that you tell me more about how your combination of potions works, Miss Granger.”

  She looked at him sullenly and Severus automatically wondered how closely beneath the surface Adia was lurking right now. But it was too dark and he sat too far away from her to see her eyes clearly. “Are you serious, sir? You want me to tell you here and now, in my bedroom, how my potions work? Don't you think it a bit … obtrusive?”

  Not that close, he assumed in light of this answer. “And you wonder how I got the idea to take a look into your mind,” he replied coolly and stood. “I expect you in the parlour in an hour. Oh, and … you should really let some air in here.”

  When she stepped into the parlour her hair was still wet and she had donned fresh clothes. Her arms crossed, she sat down in the armchair and crossed her legs as well. She looked at him in silence. 

  Severus put the book aside that he had been busying himself with. “Well?” he asked.

  “What?” she snapped.

  “Your potions, Miss Granger. Why can't you use them?”

  “Because – as I said earlier – my mind is not mine alone.”

  Severus exhaled slowly. Did he really have to help her when she so obviously didn't want his help? Couldn't he just … leave her to her own misery or something like that? He swiftly closed his eyes. No, he could not. Enough people had died for him or because of him, he wouldn't add another one if he could help it. “Isn't it possible that first you and then Miss Whitmore go through the reprocessing?” he finally sneered as composed as he could muster.

  She groaned and he was convinced she'd rolled her eyes again. She or … Adia. He'd rarely seen Hermione roll her eyes and if she'd ever done it then never towards him. “No,” she drawled at that moment.

  He scrutinised her with narrowed eyes. It was getting dark already, the light wasn't the best in the parlour. And she sat with her back to the terrace door which didn't make it easier for him to distinguish her eye colour. Severus contemplated briefly. “If you refuse to tell me more about it for your sake, then tell me for mine. As your patient, I am entitled to know how it worked.”

  “Isn't it enough that it worked?”

  “No.”

  She pursed her lips, eyeing him for long seconds. Eventually, she averted her gaze, blinked, and sighed. “If you … experience traumatic events the memories sometimes aren't filed away as a whole,” she began and Severus's eyebrows climbed high up his forehead. Her tone of voice was suddenly completely different, softer, warmer. It was impressive and disconcerting all at once. So much so that he nearly missed her further explanation. “The mind tends to split the memory. The emotions are separated from the sensory impressions and the images, sometimes the images even get completely lost. Everything gets stored at different places in the mind. It cannot be processed or sorted, doesn't come to rest, keeps coming up.” She rubbed her forehead and when she looked at him now deep exhaustion clouded her eyes.

  “The first potion,” she continued after a few seconds, “searches those fragments and puts them back together. It does that by reliving the events in this kind of sleep. But the state is unstable. The memory would fall apart again after a few days because it is too overwhelming. That is why you could only interrupt the treatment for a maximum of four days. The mind can't handle it in the long run. And that is why it needs the second potion. It reduces the emotional part of the memories. It kind of weakens it until the mind is able to handle and process it.”

  “Couldn't you take the second potion after each intake of the first?”

  She sighed softly. “No. The potion is … a bit tricky. It interacts with the brain's chemistry, it changes the memories. You should only take it once. Or at least … quite some time should pass before you take it another time. Months, better years.”

  “Charming,” Severus said when she ended. “And why can't you resort to these potions?”

  Again she rubbed her forehead. “A part of my mind belongs to … Adia. It remains closed as long as I don't change. Same way vice versa. But the fragments of the memories don't just lay in her or my part of our mind. With each change from one persona to the other emotions, memories and sensory impressions get mixed … It wouldn't work.”

  He clicked his tongue. “Pity.”

  Hermione shrugged. “I can manage.”

  Severus arched an eyebrow.

  “There isn't just this way of handling traumatic experiences, sir!”

  “I'm well aware, Miss Granger. But I suppose each way requires the assembling of the fragments?”

  She clenched her teeth but she didn't answer.

  Severus continued undeterred, “And if this potion isn't able to access all of the fragments why should your mind be able to do so?”

  She crossed her arms so firmly it looked as if she was about to strangle herself with it. “You don't necessarily have to assemble the fragments to handle the memories!” she hissed.

  Severus leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “And how do you envision that option? Do you try to force your mind to suppress the fragments?”

  She stopped looking at him.

  “That sounds quite exhausting, Miss Granger.”

  “So?” she barked. “I don't have any other choice! Adia exists, I won't ever get rid of her. And I don't even want to! We get along, we have our way. Stay out of this!” She jumped to her feet and was already halfway to the door.

  “What exactly is your way?” Severus called after her. “Do you always leave the body to Adia when you are unable to cope?”

  She whirled around. “That is none of your business! I didn't ask for your help! Just … stay out of my way!” She stormed from the parlour.

  Severus ground his teeth. He swallowed the reply that was lingering on the tip of his tongue. That Adia got stronger and that it was only a matter of time until she wouldn't let Hermione get to the surface anymore. That it was only a matter of time until they would destroy each other if Hermione would not give up the body. Hermione might have been able to control Adia so far because he shouldn't have known that she even existed. But now that he knew there probably wasn't much left holding her back.

  That night, Severus busied himself with the information he found in the book Albus had hidden in here. The discourse about Vicissitudo Virtus was rather superficial though, it didn't include much Severus hadn't already known.

  The potion was a variation of the Polyjuice Potion. Instead of adding a part of the person one wanted to impersonate, it needed a combination of ingredients fitting the character of the persona that was to be created. The number of ingredients to add wasn't limited, the more different impulses the more versatile the new persona got – but apparently also equally unruly.

  To finish the preparation a charm was cast on the potion that was variable as well, aiming to complete the desired persona.

  Severus closed his eyes and tried to remember which ingredients and what charm Hermione had used. But he didn't know. She did not show him that part of the memory.

  In the last paragraph of the text, he frowned.

  'Previous attempts to reverse Vicissitudo Virtus always failed, albeit mainly because of the incompatibility of the two personalities; they always destroyed each other before any attempt could be made. But it can be assumed that the effect of Vicissitudo Virtus would never be fully reversible. While Polyjuice Potion lends another personality and returns it to its legitimate owner after the expiration of one hour, the creation of a new personality is permanent. Equally as newly created life, this persona is not reducible to nothingness.'

  Severus pinched his eyes and let the words circle through his mind. Never fully reversible. Well. But perhaps partly? Equally as newly created life. Involuntarily he thought about the child Hermione had lost. It would never fully leave her, she would never again be the woman she had been previous to her pregnancy. The child – even though it never saw the light of day – would always be a part of her.

  Still, it was not present.

  He lifted his gaze and looked out of the window. It was already dark, the heat of the last days had finally lessened a little. The absolute silence was still unsettling, though.

  The depiction in this discourse seemed to at least open a door for a way out of Hermione's situation. Even though Severus didn't know how she could pass through this door, let alone what was waiting on the other side – there seemed to be a door. And as long as Hermione refused to acknowledge that Adia was gaining more and more control he would try to find the key to unlock this door. 

  Hopefully, Albus would find more literature about this topic.

Chapter Text

  The next morning Severus found Hermione in the parlour. “Come with me,” he said and left without waiting for her response.

  “Why?” she called after him.

  This time, Severus rolled his eyes but he didn't reply. He descended the stairs leading to the basement and started gathering ingredients, lining them up on the table. It took Hermione about three minutes to follow him.

  “What's the point of this?” she asked from the foot of the stairs.

  Severus watched her, especially her eyes. He had a suspicion and he was curious whether he was right. At the moment, her eyes were darker than they usually were. “You decided to get trained by me as my apprentice, Miss Granger. We should get started.”

  She looked at him and the ingredients on the table. Hermione rubbed her forehead and sighed softly but when she raised her gaze again, her eyes were of a clear hazel colour. The corners of Severus's mouth twitched. “And how do you want to get started?” she inquired.

  “Tell me,” he countered and pointed at the ingredients. 

  Hermione stepped closer to the table and scrutinised the plants, roots and the large container holding a clear liquid. She took each of them in her hand, smelled the liquid and finally said, “Wolfsbane Potion.”

  Severus nodded. “What do you know about it?”

  “Except for the ingredients … The Wolfsbane Potion enables a werewolf to keep a clear mind while he transforms. The preparation is complicated and risky.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

  A rosy colour painted her neck, slowly rising to her face. “I was never concerned with the Wolfsbane Potion. Hogwarts didn't teach it and Remus …” Her voice faded.

  “What about him?” Severus asked; in one of her memories she'd said that Lupin had disappeared but not why or where.

  Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Nobody knows where he is. He got in contact with the werewolves to stop them from bringing about their own revolution after Voldemort had died and we lost contact since then.” She lowered her gaze. “So, there was no need for me to busy myself with the Wolfsbane Potion.”

  “We will change that,” Severus replied.

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She barked a short and mirthless laugh. “Why do I need to know how to prepare the Wolfsbane Potion? Here.” She did a sweeping gesture. “It's not as if we'd need it, is it?”

  Now Severus folded his arms. “It is not as if we would need a second Potions Master here either.” She had the decency to blush further. “This potion is part of your apprenticeship and I won't tolerate you doubting my curriculum now more than I did at Hogwarts, Miss Granger.”

  She gulped. “Of course. I'm sorry, sir.”

  “Well. You identified what the ingredients are for. Now name them.”

  Hermione turned to the table and pointed at the single items when she said, “Monkshood roots, asphodel, wormwood, Sopophorous beans, Valerian roots, chloroform.”

  Severus nodded. “What about these ingredients stand out to you?”

  “Aside from the Monkshood roots and the chloroform, these are the ingredients of the Draught of Living Death.”

  “Precisely. The Wolfsbane Potion is a variation of the Draught of Living Death except it is designed to only numb the werewolf part of a person. Contrary to the Draught of Living Death it is not water-based but prepared with a base of chloroform. Why do you think is that?”

  Severus kept an eye on her while she contemplated his question. Since they started talking about the potion and her apprenticeship Adia hadn't been noticeable in the slightest. Severus felt reassured in his suspicion that she not only didn't possess any knowledge about potions but that she also wasn't interested in it one bit. Potions might be a way to keep Adia from a conversation.

  They worked in the lab for a long time. He saw Hermione in the same mood as in the days prior to the 31st of July – fraught but polite. Just like the topic of potions was able to tame Adia, learning seemed to be able to tame Hermione's grudge towards him. 

  But the longer their lesson went on the more Hermione's concentration dwindled. She got more erratic by the minute. First, Severus thought she was just exhausted. She had been through a lot lately. But after a while, he understood what was happening. She rubbed her forehead repeatedly, groaning several times, albeit hardly audible – she was fighting Adia. As disinterested as Adia might be in potions, letting Hermione have her way for such a long time apparently displeased her.

  The potion was a complete disaster but Severus hadn't expected otherwise. Even he had needed three attempts to produce a comestible Wolfsbane potion the first time (though comestible was a kind of ironic way to describe this brew). Before the chloroform got the chance to evaporate completely and the remaining ingredients turned into a burned lump, Severus swung the cauldron from the fire and extinguished the latter. He only looked away for a brief moment but when he turned back to her it was no longer Hermione standing in front of him.

  “Hello, Professor Snape,” Adia said in her very dark voice and looked up at him.

  Severus hid his small shock by inhaling deeply. She was taller than he'd anticipated guessing from Hermione's memories but still a little smaller than him. Hermione's clothes hung loosely on her body, her dark eyes glistened. “Miss Whitmore,” Severus said.

  “Nice to finally meet you in person.” Her gaze wandered down his frame and then back up again. “Don't you want to thank me?”

  Severus arched an eyebrow. “For what?”

  “I saved your life.”

  “If I remember correctly it was Miss Granger storming into the shack and getting me here.”

  Adia rolled her eyes. “Yes, for some reason or another, she doesn't want us to meet. But now that you know about me I have to get to know you better. After all, you are the sole reason for my existence.” A smile played on her lips. “I would call you Daddy but you're too hot for that.”

  Severus wrinkled his nose. Then he pointed at the cauldron with the pitiful remains of the Wolfsbane Potion and the other tools and utensils he and Hermione had used in the last hour. “You know how to clean these items?”

  Adia glanced at the table. Her gaze roved across the mess Hermione had left, pursing her lips.

  “Well?” he implored after a few seconds.

  She looked at him, smiling. “I'm afraid I didn't pay attention, sir.” Her voice, her gaze, her body language – all of it radiated seduction. Sex was the language she spoke.

  Severus frowned and had half a mind to take a step back. Her manner, now that she was standing right in front of him, repulsed him. “It is not that hard. A bit of water and soap, a brush and then scrub. Just be careful with the residue of the potion. It is poisonous,” he said.

  Her expression hardened. “Why should I care?” she asked.

  “Miss Granger is my apprentice. It is her job to tidy up the lab after we use it. Since you took control it is now your job.”

  After he'd held her bewildered gaze for a while longer he took the tray with the remaining ingredients and sorted them back into the cabinet. Only when he returned to Adia he took Hermione's wand. They'd both used it throughout the last hours so it was still laying on the table. Adia narrowed her eyes.

  “What are you waiting for, Miss Whitmore?” Severus asked when he caught her gaze. “The utensils don't clean themselves.”

  She snorted. “I won't do that.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You either do it or you let Miss Granger back to the front. I don't care which option you choose.”

  Adia didn't reply, she only glared at him. Severus turned around, left the basement and locked the door behind him – both physically and magically. Then he pocketed the wand and went upstairs.

  About two hours later, Severus heard a soft knock. He hadn't closed his door so he wouldn't miss Hermione's return. As a result, he didn't miss Adia's rage either; apparently, she'd taken the lab to pieces and Severus had needed all of his self-control to let her. But since about half an hour it had been quiet down there.

  Now he put the book and his notes aside and went downstairs. Without asking or hesitating he opened the door and found himself face-to-face with a rather unkempt and exhausted Hermione. Her cheeks were flushed red. 

  “I tidied and aired the lab. But I need my wand to repair the vessels,” she informed him as if it had been her that he'd imprisoned downstairs. Severus frowned and handed her the wand. “Thank you.” She pivoted on the spot and went back down again.

  He trailed behind and arched his eyebrows when he saw the huge pile of shards on the lab table. He glanced at the shelves. Apparently, not a single glass vessel had remained intact. But Adia had left the furniture alone. At least. “Seems as if you had an enjoyable time,” he mumbled. 

  Hermione hummed non-committally. She touched one of the bigger shards with the tip of her wand and said, “Reparo!” It was as if an invisible hand dug through the pile and the next moment, an Erlenmeyer flask sprung into the air.

  Severus had to grab it quickly to prevent it from dropping and breaking once again. He turned the vessel appraisingly and nodded. “Impeccable.”

  And so Hermione went on. In no time she was surrounded by so many vessels and instruments that Severus had to store them away before she could go on. 

  “Adia doesn't react well to rejections,” he stated after a while.

  Hermione cast him a glance. “Who does?” Two more vessels later – a small beaker and a fermentation tube – Hermione asked, “How did you know that I would be standing on the other side of the door?”

  “Adia wouldn't have knocked.”

  She huffed. “Yes, she would.”

  Severus cocked an eyebrow. 

  Hermione put her wand away and took the two glass vessels to store them back on the shelves. “Adia isn't a completely autonomous person, sir.” The fermentation tube had its place so high up the shelf that Hermione had to push it over the edge with her fingertips. 

  Severus, seeing the device in shards again, reached out to help her. He got very close to her doing so and when Hermione noticed him she turned her head around and their gazes met.

  “Adia is a part of me. What I know, she knows too,” she finally said and took her arms down.

  Severus stepped back. “Does she know everything?”

  “Mostly.”

  He regarded her pensively. “Do you know everything Adia knows as well?”

  “Mostly,” she said again. Then she looked at him. “What?”

  “It is very helpful to know that.”

  She clamped her lips so hard they went white. “Is this an experiment to you?”

  “No,” he said.

  Hermione scrutinised him. “Good. Don't mess with her, sir.”

  Severus didn't reply since exactly that was his plan. If Adia struggled for power with him she hopefully wouldn't find enough time to struggle for power with Hermione at the same time. And time was what he needed. “You should rest awhile, Miss Granger. Working in the lab has been exhausting. And I expect an essay on the preparation of the Wolfsbane Potion, twelve inches.” He turned around and left.

  The next morning, Severus went to the pantry to look for the box Albus had talked about. He found nothing and frowned. It was about time that he got a wand if he was to oppose Adia. She wouldn't fail to take Hermione's wand before he could for a second time. 

  Hermione sat at the kitchen table and wrote her essay on the Wolfsbane Potion. She didn't even look up to him and Severus poured himself a cup of coffee before he sat down opposite her. During the following minutes, she used her wand three times to correct a slip of her pen, to erase the last words, or to relocate a whole paragraph to a lower position so she was able to add a sentence.

  “You are inattentive,” Severus observed when she took her wand for the fourth time.

  “You make me nervous.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you were beyond that.”

  She looked at him sullenly. “You always made me nervous, sir.”

  “Miss Granger, we both know that is not true.”

  She lowered her gaze.

  Severus decided to drop the topic. For now. “Do you feel capable of giving the Wolfsbane Potion another try this afternoon?”

  She rubbed her eyes. “Of course,” she mumbled. “Provided that you let me write this essay in peace now.”

  Severus smiled briefly. “Of course,” he echoed, downed his coffee, and left the kitchen.

  “What temperature is the chloroform?”

  Hermione rummaged for her wand that she had clenched between her teeth. Severus observed her for three seconds until he reached for it. She blushed and murmured the spell without meeting his gaze. “60,7 degrees Celsius,” she said.

  “What strength of aconitine do the Monkshood roots have?”

  “Uhm …” This time, she rummaged for the parchment on which she had done her calculations. She found it on the lab table behind her, by herself this time. “2,5 percent the one, 1,8 percent the other.”

  “And which one is which, Miss Granger?”

  She pointed at one, then at the other. “1,8, 2,5.”

  “Are you sure?” Severus pressed with narrowed eyes.

  She looked at him and lifted her chin a fraction. “Absolutely.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “All right. Explain your calculations.”

  She ran her hand over the parchment. “The amount of Wolfsbane Potion I want to prepare equals seven dosages – the potion has to be taken each evening for a whole week preceding the full moon. Per dosage, the potion has to contain two milligrams of aconitine so I need a whole of 14 milligrams. From this root” – she pointed at the one with a strength of 1,8 percent aconitine – “I'd need zero point seven repeating grams, from the other 0,56 grams. Since it is better measurable and the amount of aconitine has to be exact I'd take the root with a strength of 2,5 percent aconitine.”

  “Very well. Go on.” Severus leaned against the lab table, his arms crossed, and observed Hermione drawing the root across a grater. While she struggled with the single crumbs to get exactly 0,56 grams, he watched the chloroform from the corner of his eye. The cauldron was covered with a protective sphere so they wouldn't inhale anything of it. The downside of it was that the heat accumulated under it and since Hermione had last checked the temperature it most likely had risen. 

  Severus had to almost bite his tongue to not point it out to her. She wasn't a Hogwarts student anymore but his apprentice. Even though she was stressed at the moment and the Wolfsbane Potion a hard one to prepare he expected her to plan the right order of work steps. She'd written a twelve-inch-long essay on it and a whole paragraph had been about the right temperature of the chloroform. Plus he had given her a hint when he'd asked for the temperature.

  At long last, she turned towards the cauldron, a little porcelain bowl in her hand, and let the tiny amount of Monkshood root trickle through the protective sphere. With a swish of her wand, she mixed it in the chloroform.

  “What temperature does the chloroform have to be when the Monkshood root is added, Miss Granger?” he asked, not even in a sharp voice but it was enough for her to pale.

  Her hand trembling, she lifted her wand and summoned the temperature. “0,5 degrees less than it is now.”

  Severus raised his eyebrows and reached for her wand. “Evanesco!” he said after she'd given it to him. The chloroform-Monkshood-root-mixture vanished.

  Hermione rubbed her forehead and pocketed her wand. “I'm sorry, sir.”

  “The potion is challenging and I don't expect you to prepare it correctly within the first three to five attempts. But the wrong-tempered chloroform is preventable with the right schedule.”

  “I know,” she mumbled.

  “Why didn't you schedule it right?”

  “The schedule was right! But I … accidentally skipped a line.”

  Severus stretched out his hand and she gave him her outline of the brewing process that had been lying on the lab table next to the ingredients. He skimmed the lines. Yes, she had scheduled it correctly. Right after 'Calculating the amount of Monkshood root' followed 'Preparing the Monkshood root' and only then came 'Heating up the chloroform'. Severus lowered the parchment. “What about me is making you nervous now, Miss Granger?”

  She swallowed. “Excuse me?”

  “You said I was making you nervous. That you skipped one step of your potion schedule is either due to said nervousness – or you are incapable of following your own plans. But I know that is not the case since I would have noticed that in the past.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, biting her lip, but she didn't reply.

  “Miss Granger, please!” Severus said and rolled his eyes.

  “I didn't want you to know about Adia ever,” she quietly said at that.

  He frowned. “Why did you show me these memories then?”

  She caught his gaze, pursing her lips.

  And Severus finally understood. “It was not you who showed me the memories …”

  “No.”

  He stared at her unwaveringly while he realised two different things. First: Hermione's control over Adia was worse than he had assumed. Second: Adia desperately wanted to get in contact with him. Even as these thoughts were running through his head he saw Hermione's eyes getting darker. His lips tightened. “That is all for today,” he said. “Clear up before you leave.”

  Later that day and during all of the following there was many a time he talked to Hermione and noticed Adia trying to intervene. Severus always broke off the conversation and left the room. Since Hermione was visibly confused by his behaviour she apparently did not necessarily notice when Adia tried to get to the front. Perhaps it had become too normal for her.

  Severus hoped his ignorance would annoy Adia enough for her to focus on him. But he got increasingly nervous to face her without a wand. He'd thought about claiming Hermione's wand but how should he have justified it without telling her about his worries? So far, Hermione had defended her vehemently. Adia was important to her. She wouldn't hand him her wand when he told her that he mistrusted Adia.

  So he ground his teeth when he once more didn't find a box in the pantry. “What is taking you so long, old man?” Severus growled before he went to the kitchen. Yes, Albus had to wage a damn war – but Severus had to do the same and it would be exceptionally courteous if he … 

  A bang ripped through his musings. He whirled around. Adia had waited for him behind the kitchen door and slammed it shut. “You won't run away this time, Severus,” she said.

  Severus tightened his body to stop himself from taking a step back. “What do you want, Miss Whitmore?”

  She huffed. “So official …” She approached him slowly, smoothly swaying her hips. “You'd almost think you consider me a person.”

  Severus raised his eyebrows. “You obviously don't return the favour.”

  A smile curled her lips. “You were my task. A very ungrateful one at that. Is a little thank you really too much to ask for?”

  “It is.”

  She laughed shaking her head. “There are two versions of you in Hermione's memories, did you know that? On the one hand the cold-hearted bastard of Hogwarts, on the other hand … someone else. I always wondered how those fit together. And then I thought, hey, she has two sides as well, so why not? But I never thought that she would save the cold-hearted bastard's life. I thought he would be a thing of the past or whatever. Why should she do this …” She indicated to herself. “… for someone like you?”

  “Are you quite done with your monologue?” Severus asked languidly.

  “Do you have something better to do?”

  “Everything is better than listening to you, Miss Whitmore.”

  The small muscles around her eyes twitched and she stepped even closer. So close that she could extend her hand and place it on his chest. But before she got the chance Severus grabbed her wrist. “You can't ignore me forever, Severus.” His name rolling across her tongue made his hair stand on end.

  He wrinkled his nose and leaned down to her a little bit without letting go of her wrist. “Want to bet?” he snarled. Then he pushed her aside and she stumbled a few steps while he crossed the kitchen.

  He tore the door open and had almost reached the stairs when she called after him, “Anytime!”

  He spun around. The last thing he saw was the tip of Hermione's wand.

  The last he heard was Adia's voice saying, “Stupor!”

Chapter Text

  Severus didn't know how much time had passed when Hermione woke him up. He had a blinding headache and looked around blinking. The parlour, the settee – he had a strong feeling of déjà vu. 

  Hermione handed him a vial and when he smelled it he recognised a pain-relief potion. He downed it in one gulp. “Thank you,” he groaned and sat up.

  “Never mind. If I am unable to tame Adia I can at least clear up the mess she makes.” She sat down on the table behind her.

  Severus looked at her with raised eyebrows.

  “Yes, I know, Mr …” She stopped herself. “Severus?”

  He shrugged. She'd insisted on returning to last names, he didn't care anymore how she called him.

  “You were right, Severus,” she finally mumbled.

  He nodded slowly. But he didn't want to talk about it. “Why do I have a headache?”

  “You had a laceration at the back of your head. I think you knocked it when you fell. But it should be mostly healed by now.”

  “Nice to have a healer at hand,” he noted although a soft thrumming had remained. But he could handle that after seventeen years at Hogwarts.

  “Quite,” Hermione replied with a small smile. Then she reached behind her and held out a little glass vial to him containing a white substance, neither liquid nor gas. A memory. “You should watch it.”

  He took the vial. “I will.”

  She hesitated, worrying her bottom lip. Then she slid her wand from her sleeve into her hand. “And you should take this as well.”

  Severus reached for it but he looked away as he did so. Hermione's realisation came with a price he'd have rather not paid. Now Adia had two enemies in this house – and one of them wasn't able to protect themself from her attacks anymore. But even less than turning Adia against Hermione he wanted to know her armed for any longer. Especially since he wasn't.

  “I'll be off then. I still have a report to write about the last lesson.”

  He nodded and watched her leave. Then he stood as well and went upstairs. He had a memory to watch.

  It was the memory of preparing the Vicissitudo Virtus. Hermione had found a way to tell him which ingredients she had added to the Polyjuice base without letting Adia know. Well … at least he supposed Adia didn't know which memory Hermione had given him.

  First, he had been surprised that she seemed to guess his plans. And then he remembered that she was Hermione Granger even though she was called Weasley now. She'd always understood and known more than what had been good for her.

  Severus pushed the small Pensieve aside and fetched his notes. Secretion of Drosera, he marked down, ebony, blend of dragon's blood/Ronald Weasley's blood, unicorn tears. He wrinkled his nose. Of all things, did it really have to be unicorn tears?

  But this ingredient at least explained why he was still alive. He'd wondered why Adia hadn't thrown the Killing Curse his way. She had been angry and impulsive enough (the impulsiveness definitely stemmed from Weasley's blood even though Weasley would have never used the Killing Curse). But the unicorn tears were such a powerfully pure element that she probably wasn't able to use Dark Magic.

  Severus was grateful for his sake that Hermione had added this ingredient but he was sorry about it for her sake since he didn't know how he should counterbalance it.

  And that was what he most likely would have to do: Counterbalancing the ingredients. The reversing potion for the Polyjuice Potion would probably be a good base, it would at least cancel the Polyjuice part of the Vicissitudo Virtus. But for each of the remaining ingredients, he'd need an at least equally powerful counterpart.

  And a reversing spell. Indigeo uxer periculosus, he scribbled beneath the ingredients. That was the spell Hermione had used to finish the preparation of the potion. Severus huffed. She'd tried to translate the femme fatale to Latin. As if the secretion of a bloody carnivorous plant hadn't been enough!

  But he could probably counterbalance the secretion with aloe vera; the sundew used its secretion to corrode the insects it caught, aloe vera supported healing processes. That should work. Ebony was easily counterbalanced with bleached sycamore and he would find a way to counter the blood as well. But unicorn tears … Severus scoffed.

  He snapped his notebook shut. For now, he decided to wait for the literature Albus would hopefully send him. Perhaps there was another approach to reverse the Vicissitudo Virtus that didn't come to his mind. Perhaps he wouldn't have to deal with the unicorn tears.

  The next morning, he finally found the box in the pantry Albus had announced. It contained four books and a slim case with a new wand. Severus took all of it upstairs. He locked the door and went over the books. The Various Faces of Polyjuice Potion by Skylar Locket, Vicissitudo Virtus – A History by Gail Heron, Reversing the Irreversible by Glen Medlar, and Advanced Potions Theory by Reed Gorgon. Severus had read the latter during his own apprenticeship but he hadn't consulted it ever since. He'd simply lacked the time to further engage with potion development. 

  He didn't know the other books, though, and since he heard Hermione rummaging in her room he decided to get back to them later. He took his new wand from the case – ebony with a core of dragonheart string, twelve inches – and swayed it tentatively. Some sparks emitted from the tip. Severus frowned. This new wand didn't fit as well as his old one had but better than Hermione's. It'd have to do until they got out of here.

  He put the books under a Disillusionment Charm and placed them on the shelf next to the door where he also stored his other books. Then he magically locked Hermione's wand away in his nightstand, now that he was able to do that again. Finally, he went downstairs and prepared breakfast.

  She was quiet and ate slowly. Severus observed her. Her mind seemed to be miles away, not here at the table, not at breakfast. Her porridge had to be cold already, just as her coffee.

  Suddenly she jerked her head up and asked, “Is the Wolfsbane Potion the only potion prepared with a base of chloroform?”

  Severus knitted his brows. His gaze roved over her pursed lips and the white knuckles of her hand that clasped her spoon. And over her eyes. “Yes,” he said eventually, “it is the only potion that has a base of chloroform. But chloroform is used as a solvent preparing other potions as well.”

  She nodded, briefly closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. When she blinked, Adia had submerged again. Hermione turned back to her porridge and wrinkled her nose when she noticed what Severus had already suspected: It was cold. She shoved the bowl aside and rubbed her temples.

  “You are trying to control her?” Severus asked.

  Hermione nodded. “She attacked you, I won't let that happen again.”

  He already wanted to remind her that he had her wand but then he remembered how Adia had fought. She was dangerous not only with a wand. “It is quite generous of you to try to protect me but first of all you should protect yourself.” He caught her gaze and didn't let her look away. It was a matter of mere seconds until the hazel colour blurred. “Do you want me to heat up your porridge again?”

  Hermione frowned. “No,” she mumbled, “I'm not hungry.”

  Severus nodded, rose to his feet, and left.

  Contrary to the popular belief that Severus was a person who preferred the darkness and cold of the dungeons over everything else he actually liked spending time outside and in the sun. But his job had limited his opportunities. If he hadn't been busy preparing classes he'd been brewing potions for Poppy, marked potion samples, essays and tests, attended mostly pointless staff meetings, dealt with the stupidity of his House's students, or defended them against his colleagues. Nothing of it had happened outside – and if it had then only because his students had been especially stupid. He'd had his free time mostly between ten and twelve o'clock at night and during the precious hour after getting up and before breakfast in the morning. And after the Dark Lord had returned there hadn't been left much of that either. 

  But to be honest, he'd never tried to correct these assumptions. They'd been beneficial for his cover, everyone deeming him the … how had Adia phrased this side of him? Ah, yes, the cold-hearted bastard of Hogwarts. It had been beneficial that this was how everyone had seen him.

  But now there were no tasks left that kept him from going outside and no necessity to be the cold-hearted bastard anymore. At least not at all times. And so he sat down on the terrace with one of the books Albus had sent him. Of course, he'd spelled the book so only he could read what it actually was about. For both Hermione and Adia, the title would read The Goblin Rebellions and Their Consequences for the Modern Era. But actually, it was the discourse about Polyjuice Potion. There was a full chapter on the Vicissitudo Virtus in it he'd read first. Skylar Locket had dug deep into the synergy of the two personalities and he'd even found someone who'd used the Vicissitudo Virtus not only once, but twice – and that imbecile probably would have used it for a third time had the new personalities not mentally overpowered and incapacitated him before he had the chance to try. They'd gone on and destroyed each other. Unfortunately, the body had been destroyed in that process as well. The description was disturbingly bloody.

  The paragraph about the mental consequences of the potion was interesting, though. As it seemed, both personalities only had limited access to the experiences of each other. Adia could access Hermione's memories but not her emotions. And apparently, she also had difficulties accessing Hermione's factual knowledge as well because otherwise, she wouldn't have had a hard time preparing the potions for Lucius without letting Hermione get to the surface. And it was the same in reverse. Hermione knew what Adia had done and experienced but she had no emotional connection to it and she couldn't use Adia's fighting experience without letting her take control.

  Severus lowered the book and mused about the memories he'd seen in Hermione's mind. It had been a mix of Hermione's and Adia's memories. Viewing them, he, unfortunately, wasn't able to judge the emotional part; otherwise, he probably would have noticed that it had not been Hermione showing him these memories without her having to tell him. 

  Anyway, he thought about the memory of Weasley's death in particular. Adia had witnessed it, not Hermione. According to what Skylar Locket had written Hermione had no emotional connection to this memory. That would explain why she had been unable to mourn her husband's death not only here but also previous to their arrival. She may have seen his dead body and kissed him goodbye but Severus knew the mechanics of the mind. What could not be true … 

  Severus read on and was impressed by how profoundly Skylar Locket had described the Vicissitudo Virtus although his book actually was dedicated to the Polyjuice Potion.

  He was disrupted though when Hermione stepped onto the terrace. She was pale, her arms slung around herself. But that wasn't what made Severus arch his eyebrows. She wore a jumper. At a temperature of almost thirty degrees, she wore a thick jumper and yet her teeth were chattering. “Are you ill?” Severus asked. He felt hot only clad in his shirt although he'd rolled up the sleeves.

  She sat down at the landing of the terrace and shook her head. “No, j-just exhausted.”

  Severus put the book aside and squatted down in front of her. Now that the sunlight fell right into her eyes he could very clearly see the colour hovering between hazel and a dark brown, sometimes smoothly in a homogenous blend, sometimes like a flickering between both ends of the scale. 

  “Why d-do you look me in the eyes that of-often lately?”

  “Because I can see it,” Severus said with a furrowed brow.

  Hermione exactly knew what he meant by it. She gulped, dropped her gaze and rubbed her temples.

  “This is not what I meant when I said you should protect yourself, Hermione.”

  She huffed. But Severus got the impression that her shivering slowly subsided in the bright sunlight. “She wants my body, Severus. What do you think I should protect if not my body?”

  “Your mind.”

  She looked at him as intently as he'd done time and time again during the last days. Took a trembling breath. And then he saw the transformation for the first time outside of her memories. Her eyes got so dark they seemed almost black even in the stark sunlight. Her hair smoothed, grew longer and got jet-black. Her skin tanned a bit and her face got thinner and a bit rough around the edges. When the transformation was complete Adia smiled at him. “She took your advice to heart, Severus.”

  He rose to his feet and turned away. “Good for her,” he said, picked up his book in passing and returned to the house.

  “You still dare turn your back on me?” she called after him.

  “Obviously,” he growled. Even here he was kept away from the sun.

  After that, he didn't see Hermione for several days. And he avoided Adia on purpose. The talent of moving unseen and appearing out of thin air he had honed at Hogwarts was of immense help now. That and a Charm or two that were almost as useful as Potter's Invisibility Cloak if one had the right amount of skill.

  Severus could observe Adia getting angrier almost by the minute. He heard her curse and talk to herself. He heard her shouting at him and arched his eyebrows, deeply impressed by her vulgarity. Were these words from Hermione's vocabulary? Or did Adia bring them?

  Severus spent the days he couldn't use brewing a potion without giving himself away either in his room or on the terrace. He didn't even prepare food for himself and lived on nothing but toast, fruits and coffee – he'd lived on worse though. During this time he read all of the books Albus had sent him and in the end, he had to realise that there was no way around the damn unicorn tears. Not even Reversing the Irreversible knew another approach. But at least this one had worked with some other potions. Unfortunately, he hadn't found anything about the Vicissitudo Virtus in it.

  What all of the books addressing the Vicissitudo Virtus agreed about, though, was that he should start preparing the reversal potion as soon as possible. Especially the History made him nervous; all of the known cases of Vicissitudo Virtus the book described had found a gruesome end. 

  On the evening of the third day – Severus had just placed an order for Albus in the pantry – Adia stopped right in front of him in the hall and since she still wasn't able to see him due to the Charms he used she shouted loud enough to be heard from everywhere in the house, “You will regret this, Severus Snape!” Then she whirled around and ascended the stairs. Hermione's door slammed shut behind her.

  Severus looked after her with a frown.

  But Adia kept her word: He sincerely regretted provoking her. 

  That night, he woke up, and at first, he didn't even know why. Since he'd finished Hermione's treatment he wasn't plagued by nightmares anymore. At least none he wasn't able to control. None that overwhelmed him and tore him from his sleep. They weren't more demanding than what he was used to since he'd been a child. They didn't haunt him. No, it hadn't been dreams waking him up.

  He listened. And heard a whimper.

  Severus got up and once more hid himself with a charm before he unlocked his door and sneaked into the hall. The whimpering got louder and rose to a sob. It emitted from Hermione's room. And it was Hermione's voice.

  He cancelled the charm and knocked at her door, entering without waiting for her summons. A flick of his wand provided dim light that wouldn't hurt his eyes or hers. 

  Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, her hands digging deep into the mattress on the left and right sides of her legs. She was crying as he'd never heard someone cry before. It shook her whole body. Her face was covered with tears, she didn't even look up at him.

  Severus crouched down in front of her and tried to catch her gaze. “Hermione,” he said but she didn't react. She coughed as if she'd choked on her own tears. Severus touched her left hand; she pulled it away instantly. She wiped her face with her arm but didn't lower it again. She downright hid behind it.

  He sighed. His legs went numb, so he kneed down. What had Adia done to her?

  Severus rubbed his face with both hands. Should he give her a calming draught? Would it really help her or just him because he wouldn't have to see her cry any longer? “Hermione, please talk to me! You are the healer. What am I to do?” But she didn't answer.

  Eventually, he made a decision. He stood up and sat down beside her. Then he placed his hand on her back and when she didn't shake it off or shied away from it, he laid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. He wasn't good at comforting someone, he'd always let others do it, had confined himself to only ever watching. But the few times Narcissa had been upset Lucius had put his arm around her in a similar way and it had helped. Perhaps it would help Hermione as well even if they didn't have an emotional bond with each other.

  And at least she didn't fight it. Her crying sounded a bit muffled now and the shirt of his pyjama soon was soaking wet. Her thin body quivered in his arms and the warm scent of her hair tickled his nostrils. Severus leaned his head back and inhaled deeply.

  She slowly calmed what felt like an eternity later. And got heavier in his arms. Severus needed a while until he realised that she … well, maybe not exactly had fallen asleep but at least was less conscious than before. She sobbed from time to time and trembled.

  He tried to lay her down, hoping that she would completely fall asleep, but she clung to his shirt and his arm. Severus rolled his eyes. So, now she was resisting being let go. Marvellous.

  He slid back on the bed until he could support himself against the wall and dragged Hermione along until her legs were on the mattress as well. Keeping to hold her, he watched her fall asleep. She glided down on him until she was resting on his legs, face turned away from him. Severus stroked her hair across her shoulder, eyeing her patchy cheek and the outline of her nose.

  He didn't sleep anymore that night.

  Waking up the next morning was a little … unpleasant. At least for her.

  Severus saw her blink. He saw how she tried to understand where she was because normally, she lay in her bed the other way round and this perspective had to be confusing after a night like this. And when her exhausted mind had figured that out she was awake enough to notice that she wasn't lying on her pillow. She looked down and scrutinised his legs. Severus saw her gulp.

  He arched his eyebrows and cleared his throat.

  Hermione jumped like a scalded cat and crossed her arms in front of her body as if she were naked and had to hide from him. “What are you doing here?” she asked with huge eyes.

  “I'm waiting,” he replied.

  “For what?”

  “For you to wake up.” He lifted himself off the bed and rose. His shirt had dried by now, he smoothed it with his hands. “Do you remember the last night?”

  Hermione closed her eyes, twisting her face. “I … was crying?”

  “Very much so.”

  “And you …” She blinked, looking at him somewhat incredulously. “… comforted me?”

  “I tried.”

  She groaned softly and rubbed her forehead.

  “What has Adia done, Hermione?” Severus leaned against the table and crossed his arms.

  “She played with my … her … I don't know. But … she played with memories.” Her voice sounded muffled from behind the hand she still pressed against her head. “She showed me the memory of Ron's death until I …” She broke off.

  Severus's expression hardened. “Until you developed emotions to it,” he completed her sentence.

  Hermione looked at him, her eyes full of unshed tears again. “Yes,” she breathed.

  “Well, this is something she will regret,” he growled softly.

  Hermione snuffled and swallowed her tears. “What do you mean?”

  He pushed his anger aside. “Not important. How do you feel now?”

  She shrugged. “Tired. Exhausted.” She lowered her gaze. “Embarrassed …”

  “If the latter is as a result of you sleeping on my legs there is no reason to be embarrassed. If I would have wanted to leave I could have done so.” At least that much he had to admit.

  “Then why did you stay?”

  But not that. “I'm not a monster, Hermione.” He pushed off the table and went to the door. “Get a shower and change, I'll prepare breakfast.”

  “How long have I been gone?” Hermione asked half an hour later buttering her toast.

  “Three days,” Severus said. It was actually lovely to sit down at the table and eat in peace again after said three days. Scrambled eggs, not toast. And to not have to carry around his mug of coffee so it would be covered by his Charms as well.

  Hermione's gasp made him sit up. “Three days?”

  “Yes.”

  She blinked. “What has happened?”

  “Nothing,” he said truthfully. This time, she cocked an eyebrow. “Honestly, nothing has happened. I avoided her, we didn't have a single talk.”

  “How did you accomplish that in here?”

  He smirked. “I'll tell you another time.”

  Hermione sourly pursed her lips before she took a bite of her toast. “Well, it made Adia very angry,” she explained past the bite in her mouth.

  Severus wrinkled his nose a little. “I regret that she took it out on you.”

  She waved her hand dismissively, taking a sip from her coffee. “I'll cope. I'm glad she didn't attack you again. This time, she would have had more time with you …” She sighed and put her mug down. “Where do we go from here?”

  “We will see,” he replied vaguely. He met her gaze but she seemed to know that he had plans he couldn't share with her because Adia shouldn't know about them. There was already enough she would be able to figure out by herself.

Chapter Text

  In the following days, Adia left Hermione in peace. At least as far as Severus noticed. He used that time to start preparing the reversing potion. Completing the Polyjuice antidote didn't take a whole month but still about a week – the reason why it was almost never used. Waiting that single hour for the Polyjuice to wear off was just a lot easier by any measure. But apparently, he wasn't the only Potions Master who hated gaps in his developments; there was an antidote and now it benefited him.

  When he wasn't in the lab he observed Hermione with concern. She didn't fight Adia and whenever he cast a glance in her eyes they were of a hazel colour – but more often than not full of tears. That was what she was fighting with now: mourning her family.

  She refused to engage with these emotions, though. Whenever Severus saw her outside of a lesson she was busy in one way or another. She read books, she wrote essays he didn't ask for, she helped him prepare potions although he didn't need help, she cooked, cleaned, or played chess with herself – and really lousy at that.

  More than once Severus thought about addressing her behaviour. But he didn't, for two reasons: First, he was afraid of having to spend another night with her in his lap. Second, there were no alternatives. What else could she do? If she let herself be devoured by her grief now she would be easy prey for Adia. That blasted woman would take her chance and make Hermione a prisoner in her own mind. As much as Hermione's way of coping worried him, right now she didn't have another choice. 

  One evening Severus went outside. Hermione had already retreated to her room and since her window led to the garden he pointed his wand at it and placed a screening charm on it. He still hadn't asked her whether she knew about Albus's connection to them and he didn't want her to overhear their conversation.

  “Albus!” Severus called when he was as close as possible to the dimension barrier. The sun was already setting and from the other side of the house, the night rose in a dark shade of blue.

  “I hear you,” Albus's voice sounded after a short while.

  “Unicorn tears, Albus!” Severus crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Unicorn tears?” the quiet voice echoed in confusion. “Do you need some?”

  “No! Mrs Weasley used unicorn tears for the Vicissitudo Virtus!”

  Albus didn't reply.

  “I need to counterbalance the ingredients, Albus. If I want to have the slightest chance to … remove Adia from Mrs Weasley's mind I need to counterbalance the ingredients. How am I supposed to counterbalance bloody unicorn tears?”

  “Isn't there anything about it in the book I sent you?” 

  Severus rubbed his forehead. “Would I be standing here if there was?” he asked impatiently. The Advanced Potions Theory listed most of the known potion ingredients and rated their magical efficacy on a scale. He'd checked his ideas regarding the other ingredients Hermione had used and they would work. But unicorn tears were ranked as high on this scale as no other ingredient. Even unicorn blood was a tad beneath it because it couldn't be gained without violence. According to this book, there was nothing that equalled unicorn tears, let alone something that could counterbalance them.

  “Is it the only ingredient?” Albus asked then.

  “Of course not. But I already found counterparts for the others. I need an aloe vera plant, sycamore and birds. Little, harmless, non-magical birds. As many sibs as you can get.”

  “Do I want to know, Severus?”

  He arched his eyebrows high up his forehead. “I don't know, do you?”

  “Never mind,” Albus mumbled and it reached this dimension so softly that Severus had almost not heard it. “I will get everything you need and I will try to find a counterpart for the unicorn tears.”

  “Thank you,” Severus said cloyingly. “And how long will it take you this time?”

  “What are you trying to say, Severus?”

  “That it may have escaped your notice but Adia Stupefied me because it took you so long to send me a wand!”

  “How awful,” Albus replied but he sounded quite bored.

  “She could have killed me!”

  “Considering the unicorn tears she could have not and you know it.”

  Severus scoffed. “There are more ways to kill someone than with magic,” he mumbled under his breath and was sure Albus hadn't heard him. “Just get the ingredients!” he added louder and pushed off the barrier without a goodbye.

  While Severus continued to work on the potion and Hermione continued to ignore her emotions he more and more wondered whether Albus even knew what he did to them with this sort of protective custody. Not only that he wasn't able to do the research by himself – Hermione was also isolated from all the people that had ever meant something to her. He was hardly an adequate substitute for them, they simply weren't close enough. She was lonely and this loneliness edged itself deeper and deeper onto her face.

  “You could write a letter and send it to Albus through the pantry,” Severus said at supper. Every now and again a letter arrived for her but up to now, he had never seen her write one herself.

  She was visibly startled from her thoughts. “What?” she mumbled and blinked tiredly.

  “A letter,” Severus repeated. “You could write a letter and send it through the pantry.”

  She frowned. “To whom should I write?”

  Severus arched his eyebrows. “Miss Weasley, Miss Tonks, your parents?”

  “I don't want to write to anybody,” she said and stirred her tea.

  “You are lonely,” Severus forced himself to say. Merlin, he wasn't the right person for a conversation like this. “That's not good for you.”

  “I'm no more lonely than you are.”

  He took a deep breath. “I have always been lonely, you were not.”

  Hermione rested her head in her hand. “So you consider yourself less lonely because you've always been?”

  Severus shrugged.

  “I think that makes you even more lonely than I am but what do I know.” She ran her hand across her forehead, mumbling “I'll call it a night”, then she stood and left the kitchen.

  He didn't look after her. His gaze was pointed out the little window while her words were dripping into his mind like water in a parched well.

  The following night, Severus was startled awake by a loud bang. He sat up, instantly wide awake. A crash. That was downstairs. He grabbed for his wand and went to the door, only clad in his pyjama pants. Standing in the hall, he looked around. Everything was dark downstairs but there was someone. 

  Tensely, he cast a glance at Hermione's door. It was closed. And quite frankly, he considered it unlikely that Hermione was dismantling the furniture downstairs. Not even Adia would do that without a good reason. So he grasped his wand tighter and silently descended the stairs. Through the windows on the eastern side of the house, the blue light of the moon seeped into the hall. Something shattered.

  He approached the parlour without making a sound. In the door frame, he finally stopped and waited. Now it was completely quiet but he could hear a faint wheezing. He tried to see through the dark but to no avail, the moonlight didn't reach far enough. Only the terrace door was clearly visible against the darkness of the parlour and it was standing open. Apparently, he'd forgotten to close it in the afternoon. The gnome.

  When it jumped from behind the settee Severus cast a spell that bathed the whole room in bright light. He had to close his own eyes against it for a few seconds. The gnome screamed, more items tumbled to the floor. Then another shattering. When Severus blinked the window next to the terrace door was in shards. “Marvellous,” he muttered. But the floor in the parlour was littered with shards anyway, even before the window broke, so he didn't dare enter, barefoot as he was.

  The gnome jumped over the armchair and the table, climbed the cupboard and leaped to the lamp. Grout trickled from the ceiling.

  Severus followed its movements with the tip of his wand, muttered “Stupefy!” but missed the target. The red sparks spurred the gnome on even more. The ceiling lamp swayed alarmingly and finally ripped from its moorings. It dropped a few inches and the gnome fell onto the table screeching.

  Of all the creatures the magical world had to offer – had Albus really had to lock them up with a gnome?

  “Useless, pesky creature,” he growled softly and cast another curse at the gnome. Once more he missed the target but it ruined a plant. Severus twisted his face. The hibiscus had been useful for some potions; pity to have to go without it now.

  In the meantime, the gnome had rediscovered the cupboards. It no longer only climbed them but tore the doors open and the dishes out. Severus cast a whole spurt of curses its way but not a single one hit the agile creature. It only stuck out its tongue.

  Eventually, Severus put two fingers in his mouth, whistled piercingly and savoured the following silence. The gnome sat frozen on one of the cupboard doors and stared at him wide-eyed, breathing rapidly.

  Just when Severus wanted to cast a pointed curse on the gnome to finally take it back to the garden, Hermione appeared at the door. “What's happening?”

  On cue, the gnome started spurting through the room again and overthrew everything that wasn't already on the floor.

  Severus turned to her, put his hands on his hips and sighed deeply when grout trickled onto his head. “We have a gnome in the house,” he said.

  “Really?” she dead-panned.

  Severus preferred not to answer. “Wait here,” he said and went back upstairs. He fetched Hermione's wand from his nightstand, donned his pyjama shirt and a pair of shoes.

  When he was back downstairs he handed her her wand. “You aim right and I hopefully get him left!” Both of them turned their attention to the pesky intruder that just emitted a high-pitched whistle, quite similar to what Severus had done earlier. It swung on the second, still unimpaired ceiling lamp and vaguely reminded him of a bald chimp. It grabbed for the leaves of the yucca palm, lifted it from its planter and spread dirt on the floor.

  “Now!” Severus called lest the nagger produced even more chaos and the double “Stupefy!” echoed through the house.

  Hermione's curse was aimed right, just like Severus had ordered her, while his went left. The gnome dove beneath both of them.

  “Bugger!”

  Hermione touched his arm. “You cast Murus, I Stupefy it!”

  Severus nodded and watched the gnome. Hermione pointed her wand at it which made it dodge to the right. “Murus!” Severus said and the wall built up right in front of the little creature so it ran straight into it.

  “Stupefy!” Hermione called and finally, the curse hit. The gnome tumbled to the floor.

  In the sudden silence, Severus released a breath of air and ran his hands through his hair. Crumbs of white grout trickled to the floor. Hermione noticed it with raised eyebrows before she went to the gnome. “I'll take it back outside.”

  Severus nodded, his gaze roving across the demolished parlour. Unbelievable. So much damage in such a short time from such a little creature.

  Hermione closed the terrace door when she returned and repaired the window next to it but she didn't pay the other chaos any attention. “Would you like some tea?” she asked.

  “Yes, please.” He followed her to the kitchen and sat down while she boiled some water and put a few tea bags into a pot.

  “Since when do you have a new wand?” she asked.

  “It arrived several days ago.”

  Hermione nodded but she said nothing. She fetched two mugs from the cupboard and returned to the table. A few minutes passed in silence before she poured them both tea. She rested her head in her hand again, sighing softly. 

  Severus eyed her. “What are you thinking about?” he asked when she didn't speak.

  She cast him a glance. “I … nothing.”

  He cocked an eyebrow.

  Once more she looked at him. At him and his eyebrow. She rolled her eyes. “I could only think … where is Ron if you need him?” She ran her hand through her hair. “He de-gnomed Molly's garden so often and sometimes I thought he could read their minds. He just always knew which direction they would head.”

  “That would have been helpful, indeed,” Severus said.

  Hermione smiled, just for a split second.

  Severus put his arms on the table. “Can you … still manage, Hermione?”

  She nodded slowly, looking down. “Yes, I manage.” Then she put her wand on the table, took her mug and stood. “Good night, Severus.”

  He silently emptied his mug before he went to the parlour and began clearing the mess the gnome had left.

  When he left his bedroom the next morning Adia was already waiting for him. Her arms crossed, she leaned against the wall opposite his door. “Hello Severus,” she said and smiled. “Finally got you.”

  He looked at her and felt something inside of him sigh. Adia … He turned away and closed his door magically. Since Hermione now knew he possessed a wand Adia knew it as well. There was no need to hide it from her any longer. Without saying a word he descended the stairs. 

  “Honestly? You're still ignoring me?” she asked and trailed after him.

  He rolled his eyes, saying nothing. Arriving in the kitchen, he put ground coffee into a filter and boiled water without paying her any attention.

  “What have I done that you're ignoring me?”

  She was standing right next to him, uncomfortably close. He had to force himself to stay where he was while the water was dripping through the filter into the mug beneath it.

  “I saved your sodden life! I deserve better than this!”

  When the mug was finally filled he wanted to circle Adia but she grabbed his arm. Severus glared at her. “Let - me - go,” he hissed.

  She narrowed her eyes a fraction but pulled her hand back. “Bastard!”

  Severus snorted, then he walked down to the lab and locked the door.

  Adia didn't try to force herself on him for the rest of the day. When Severus left the lab she either sat in the parlour and actually read a book or she was outside lying in the sun.

  It was probably not a wise decision to keep on ignoring her. The last time, Hermione had been the victim of Adia's anger. But if he gave her what she wanted because of what she'd done to Hermione she had him over a barrel. Then she knew that she could manipulate him through Hermione. He had to hope that Hermione could endure whatever Adia did to her. And that Adia remembered that she was as dependent on Hermione's health as Hermione was herself. 

  That evening, he left the lab with a vicious headache and a stiff neck. But the Polyjuice antidote was finished and ready for its further use. Now he had to wait for the ingredients he'd ordered from Albus. 

  Severus walked up the stairs and froze mid-movement. The door to his room was ajar. 

  It took him three seconds to tear himself from his stupor. Then he took two steps at a time and pushed the door open so vigorously it slammed against the wall. Adia sat at the table, his Pensieve in front of her, her face leaned over it. She was in the thick of his memories. 

  Severus took two huge steps and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her out of the Pensieve. She blinked repeatedly and looked around until she found him. She grinned. “Exciting!”

  Rage seethed up in him and Adia's grin faltered a little. Severus dragged her to her feet and hauled her through his room. He pushed her out onto the hall so she stumbled against the wall but she turned back to him, laughing faintly. Before she could say anything, though, Severus slammed the door in her face. 

  After he'd locked it he first went to his nightstand. Hermione's wand was still there. He frowned. How had Adia got in here? And why didn't she search for the wand? Had she been after his Pensieve? Did she want to know which memory Hermione had given him? 

  Severus sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at the Pensieve. How the hell had she got in here? He'd locked his door magically! Without a wand, she shouldn't have been able to … But she had been. How had she done it?

  He couldn't find a satisfying answer and let the thought escape him. That had to wait. He had to know which memories she'd seen and at least that he was able to find out. “Memoriae postuma revelio!” he mumbled and silvery shining images emerged from the surface of the Pensieve.

  His first encounter with Lily. James Potter casting a Jelly-Legs Jinx on him from behind a suit of armour. The first Death Eater meeting he'd attended. The Dark Mark over the house of Dorcas Meadows. The torture of a muggle. Lily ending their friendship. Albus telling him that he, Severus, disgusted him. 

  The images dissolved, Severus sank back on his chair. Adia didn't seem to be particularly experienced with using a Pensieve. She'd wildly jumped between the memories. But after all, she hadn't found the memory Hermione had given him. 

  Severus drew his hands across his face. Rage still pulsed through his body. But at least she hadn't attacked Hermione this time to take vengeance. And since he knew what memories she'd seen he could make sure she wouldn't use them against him. 

  A knock on his door tore him from his musings. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. While his breath ran through his nose he heard it: “S-Severus?”

  He jerked his head up. That was not Adia.

  He dashed to the door, cancelling the wards, and opened it. Hermione looked at him with eyes as big as saucers. “What's happening?” she asked, then her legs gave way underneath her and she collapsed to the ground.

  Only then did Severus see the blood. All of the blood that had already pooled on the floor. And the blood that was pulsing from her wrists. 

  “Hermione!” he gasped and sank to his knees. Grabbed first one, then her other arm (warm blood, a lot of warm sticky blood running over his fingers), and pointed his wand at them. “Ferula!” he said and tight bandages wrapped around the wrists to staunch the wounds that without doubt, Adia had afflicted to herself before she'd forced Hermione to the front. He growled softly.

  Severus levitated the unconscious Hermione down the stairs and into the lab. In his mind, he went through the potions she had prepared. Did they still have Blood Replenishing Potion in stock? She'd had a vial for him when they'd arrived here but did she still have some in stock?

  She had to! That couldn't possibly happen again!

  He laid her down on the lab table and went to the supply cabinet. He impetuously shoved vials across the shelf, two of them slid over the edge and shattered on the ground. Then he finally found what he was looking for and in his relief, he uttered a sound he didn't know he was capable of. Some kind of strangled sob.

  Two seconds later he was back with Hermione. “Rennervate!”

  She gasped for air. Severus put his hand on her back and kept her upright while he used his teeth to pull the stopper from the vial and plopped it from his mouth. “Drink!” he ordered. His heart thumped as if it wanted to leap from his chest.

  She complied without hesitating. Even while she was drinking colour rose back to her cheeks. When the vial was empty she took a deep breath. Then she saw the bandages on her arms that were already stained with blood again. She gasped, biting her lip. “Dit… dittany,” she said in a trembling, high-pitched voice before she began to cry.

  This time, Severus was quicker to find what he needed. He'd just shoved the small flask containing the clear liquid across the shelf and barely managed to keep it from dropping to the ground like the other two vials. Hermione was already busy unwrapping her left wrist. The wound instantly started bleeding again and Severus poured a generous amount of dittany on it. The bleeding stopped within seconds. He sighed with relief, Hermione did the same.

  They repeated the procedure with her right wrist and soon only the bloodstains on her skin, her clothes, the floor and his hands reminded them of what had just happened. A thin, continuously thickening layer of skin built over the deep cuts. Yet, it would scar, just like his own wounds. Fine red, later silver lines.

  “How could this get so badly out of hand?” Hermione asked exhausted and drew her quivering hands through her hair. She was still sitting on the lab table, her legs dangling over the edge. She probably didn't trust herself to be able to stand. 

  Severus remained silent. Yes, how could this get so badly out of hand? Now that Hermione was better his own fear caught up on him. He pulled the stool from under the table and sat down. Wanted to run his hand across his mouth but the red-brown stains made him freeze. He closed his eyes.

  What if he hadn't recognised her voice? What if Hermione hadn't called for him? What if he had ignored her for a bit longer? He felt sick and gulped.

  “Severus?”

  He flinched when she put her hand on his shoulder.

  “Are you all right?”

  “No,” he said hollowly. Their gazes met and for a moment, they were like glued to each other. She could have died. Today. For no reason. He took a hitching breath.

  Adia.

  The rage he'd already felt earlier today awakened anew. “I want you to force her back to the front. And I want you to keep her from disappearing again.”

  “What do you want to do?” Hermione asked under her breath.

  “Whatever is necessary to break her.”

Chapter Text

  For several seconds, Hermione just looked at him, lost for words. “What do you mean, to break her?” she then asked.

  “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

  “Yes!” she scoffed.

  Once again Severus wanted to run his hand across his face but it was still covered with blood. Hermione's blood. He closed his eyes, just for a second. “She tried to kill you,” he said hollowly rose to his feet, and went to the sink to wash his hands. A cleansing spell just wasn't enough to purge him from the last hour. He needed to feel the soap and scrub his skin with a brush until it went red.

  “She knew that you would help me! She knew that we had all the potions to save me. That was just -”

  “What?” Severus snapped and whirled around. “What was it, Hermione? Another try to gain my attention? Well, she has it!” But he would make sure she didn't like it.

  “Severus, please, calm down,” Hermione pleaded while he turned back to the water.

  “I'm done with calm,” he growled, “she went too far.” What he was doing to his fingers with the hand brush could only be called manhandling. Little pink soap splatters dotted his arms and his hands trembled when he rinsed off the soap. Some drops of water ran down his arms and dripped from his elbows. 

  He flinched when Hermione suddenly stood next to him. Jerking his head around, he looked at her.

  “I came out all right,” she said placidly.

  Severus exhaled slowly. Then he turned off the water, snatched a towel and dried his hands. “This time,” he said. “What will she do next?”

  “I don't know,” Hermione replied. “Right now I don't even know whether I should be more afraid of what Adia might do or what you will do.” She leaned back against the lab table and raised her hands, perhaps to swipe her hair from her face – but then she noticed the dried blood covering her hands as well and she stopped just like Severus had.

  Her words and seeing her like this made him swallow. He stepped aside so she could wash them. “I'm sorry,” he sighed; it almost got lost in the rush of the water.

  “I know,” she mumbled. Only when she was drying her hands she continued, “Who am I to complain? It was my decision to create Adia. What's happening with me now serves me right.” She gulped and raised her gaze. “I'm sorry that I got you involved, Severus.”

  “Adia got me involved,” he said in a dark voice.

  “She could only do it because I … used her.” She rubbed her forehead, squinted her eyes shut, sighed softly.

  “Adia?” Severus asked tensely. 

  Hermione nodded. “She has to wait.”

  He tilted his head back. “What am I supposed to do, Hermione?”

  “Is there anything you can do?”

  He pursed his lips and closed his eyes. He'd kept the answer to this question meticulously to himself throughout the last days but had it been of help? It hadn't kept Adia from messing with both Hermione and him. “Perhaps,” he eventually said.

  “And that requires to … break Adia?”

  He ran his hand across his mouth. “Perhaps.” It was reasonable to assume that Adia wouldn't take the potion that would … eliminate her … voluntarily.

  Hermione sighed heavily and sat down on the stool that Severus had used previously. She put her elbows on the table and hid her face behind her hands.

  Severus went to her and leaned against the table. “What are you thinking?”

  She lowered her hands and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. “That I don't know how to handle this situation. I hate that Adia has so much control over me. But I don't want to … get rid of her. I want to have as little business with her as possible but she is in me. I wish I … could just put her into another body and we wouldn't have to meet ever again.”

  He lowered his gaze. “As the Dark Lord has proven it is not that simple to create a new body – not even when you don't take morality into account.”

  She huffed softly. “Morality … How can I morally defend to just kill Adia now that I don't need her anymore?”

  “How can you morally defend that she tried to kill the one person that created her?” Severus countered.

  Hermione sighed.

  “I understand your concerns, Hermione. But does Adia give you a choice? You permitted her a lot of freedom and at the very moment you limited that freedom she started fighting you. She's not the type to commit herself to compromises and time schedules.”

  She looked at her hands. “I could just … let her have my body.”

  Severus stared at her.

  When he hadn't said anything for quite a while Hermione cast him a glance and grimaced. “I mean, what should I fight for? My husband is dead, my child is …” Her voice broke and she covered her mouth with a trembling hand to muffle a sob. “My life is in pieces and I don't know if I'm strong enough to put it back together.”

  Severus exhaled slowly. “The last time I was at that point an obnoxious healer came to me and told me I had to finish her damn treatment so I would feel better.”

  Hermione snorted. “How rude,” she mumbled.

  He smiled wryly. “Yes. But … she was right.”

  Her eyes, her clear hazel eyes, swam with tears when she looked up at him.

  “It is your body, Hermione. Your life. You've still got such an … unbelievable amount of time left. It will get better.”

  “How do you know?” she asked hoarsely. “Did it get better for you?”

  Severus frowned. What did she mean? That he felt better since he'd finished her treatment had to be obvious, even to her. And then he remembered: Adia had seen a part of his memories. Lily. Apparently, this piece of his past that Adia had seen in his Pensieve let Hermione understand more than Adia.

  He took a deep breath. “Not until now, no. But I do hope I have a lot of time left as well.” He wasn't sure whether he really felt the optimism that spoke from his words, but Hermione needed that optimism and maybe that was enough for now.

  A tear ran down her pale cheek; she swiftly brushed it away. “Okay,” she breathed. “Do what is necessary, Severus.”

  He nodded and glanced down at his shoes frowning. “Do you know how Adia got into my room earlier? She doesn't have a wand.”

  Hermione closed her eyes when she tried to remember. “I was quite far away,” she said. “I can't tell you how she did it but … the door just sprang open underneath her hands.”

  Severus looked past her at the opposite wall of the lab. He rubbed his hands against each other while he tried to make sense of it. His thoughts jumped from one fact to the other. Adia's goal. Ronald's death. Hermione's reaction to it. Could she possibly know? Or did she notice by chance? Finally, he fixed his gaze back on Hermione. “May I take a look into your mind, Hermione?”

  She arched her eyebrows in surprise. “Why?”

  “I don't want to look at memories but I have to check something.”

  She eyed him intently before she nodded. “Okay.”

  Severus slid his wand into his hand, looked into her eyes and said, “Legilimens!” Without minding the threads of memories and thoughts, he moved through Hermione's mind straight to its core. But he wasn't even near it when he already noticed the glow. Her magical capability, the core of her existence, the source of her power – it was massive. It pulsed as if it had its own heartbeat. It spread through a huge part of her mind, literally blinding him. 

  He left her mind and rubbed his eyes.

  “What did you see?” Hermione asked.

  “I know how she did it.” Severus shook his head. All of the magic … it had to go somewhere. Preferably … “Come with me!” He pushed off the table and ascended the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” Hermione called after him but he heard her steps behind him.

  Severus crossed the parlour and went outside. It was dark, he had no clue what time it was. Since he'd finished his work in the lab thirty minutes could have passed or thirty hours, he wouldn't know. Only when he reached the dimension barrier he turned around and waited for Hermione to catch up.

  “What are we doing here?”

  He nodded at the barrier. “Lay your hands against it.”

  “Why?”

  Severus looked at her insistently. The light from the parlour fell onto his face, he knew that she could clearly see his eyes even though her face was barely discernable to him. “Trust me,” he said.

  Hermione swallowed but then she did what he'd asked her to do.

  “Repeat after me: Nimia potentia …”

  “Nimia potentia,” Hermione echoed.

  “… magica relinquat.”

  “… magica relinquat.” Her hands began to glow where they touched the dimension barrier. She gasped. “It's getting hot!” she shrieked.

  “Don't let go!”

  She worried her bottom lip and whimpered while the glowing spread from her hands across the barrier until it faded a few inches down the surface. After approximately ten seconds it stopped. Hermione removed her hands and held them into the light. They were unharmed but trembled a little. “What was that?”

  “Magic,” Severus replied. “Your excess of magic to be precise. You suppress your emotions. Emotions are energy and in our case energy is magic. That is how Adia opened my door; she used your increased magic. It was strong enough to not need a wand to channel it.”

  Hermione swallowed while the meaning of his words trickled into her mind. “That's why she showed me the memory of Ron's death so often,” she mumbled.

  Severus nodded. “She knew that your emotions would be strong enough to let your magic swell when you suppress them.” He hesitated but then he decided to say it. “She used you as well.”

  Hermione frowned and ran her fingers through her hair. “And what happened with my magic now?”

  “With the excess,” he corrected. “You drained it into the dimension barrier. It had to go somewhere and it can't cause any harm in there.”

  Hermione turned to the barrier as if she could still see her magic in it. “Will my magic … increase again?” she asked.

  “Probably.”

  “What if Adia uses it again?”

  “I will keep an eye on her.” And modify any wards that he may need so only his magic would be able to break through them.

  Hermione didn't reply and seemed lost standing in the dark. On her bright shirt, the dried blood stains seemed black. She crossed her arms as if she had to cling to herself. “What now?” she asked a rather long while later in a thin voice.

  Severus swallowed, although he needed several tries to do so. Something seemed to choke him and he could hardly keep himself from touching her face. For a moment, he allowed himself to have a long close look at her eyes, her mouth, her cheekbones; he probably wouldn't see anything of it for quite a while. Then he straightened his posture. “Get Adia back to the front and don't let her escape again. Get her to the front and … take care of yourself.”

  She gulped, then she nodded and Severus saw the transformation happen again. This time, Adia didn't smile. This time, she eyed him defiantly. “No one can break me,” she said and narrowed her eyes.

  “We will see,” Severus replied. With a flick of his wand, he tied her hands behind her back. He grabbed her upper arm and dragged her along, back into the house. Without a wand and without the increased magic she wasn't able to oppose him. She certainly was a capable fighter but she was still a woman. Without the element of surprise, he had an edge over her.

  “What do you plan to do with me now, Severus? Do you want to torture me? Do you want to abuse me? How do you want to break me?”

  He didn't reply. With the sight of her face, his anger had returned. If he gave in to her provocations now he couldn't guarantee anything anymore. He dragged her up the stairs, past his room and Hermione's.

  “Where are you taking me?” Adia asked.

  At the end of the hall, he stopped and reached for the short rope that dangled from the attic hatch. The ladder expanded and Severus pushed Adia to it, freeing her hands. “Up!” he growled. At first, it seemed as if she wanted to object but one glance at his face made her wrinkle her nose and climb the ladder. Severus followed so closely that she reached the attic just before him and had no chance to attack him.

  “Now what?” she asked sullenly and turned around to him.

  “Get over there!” He pointed at the other side of the attic. It was warm and sticky up here, the heat had accumulated under the roof.

  Adia raised her eyebrows, then she took several steps back. 

  Severus lifted his wand and created a barrier about one metre in front of his feet. A ward that only his magic could dismantle. A flicker rose from the floor up to the roof, then it disappeared.

  “What was that?” Adia asked startled and ran towards him. Said metre in front of his feet her outstretched arms collided with the ward though. “You bastard!” she shouted. “Let me out at once!”

  He narrowed his eyes a fraction, slowly shaking his head. “You went too far, Adia.”

  “No!” she screamed when he turned around. “Let me out! You can't just lock me up here! Hermione will pay for it!”

  Severus ignored her. He descended the ladder and gave it a push so the hatch snapped back up again. And since he could still hear Adia he warded the hatch with another spell that granted him a quiet night.

  Severus sighed. His eyes itched with tiredness but his head refused to calm down. Again and again, he went through the plan he made up for the potion to reverse the Vicissitudo Virtus. The History Albus had sent him depicted the attempts of several other Potions Masters but none of them had been able to test the effectiveness, they'd always been too late. Their approach resembled his own and the theories in Reverse the Irreversible though. It was a reassuring thought that other Potions Masters had chosen a similar approach. 

  He wondered if someone had ever written a detailed theoretical discourse on this topic. If someone had compared the Vicissitudo Virtus to other potions and developed a concept for the reversal based on these theories. Severus itched to look for a discourse like that. He trusted Albus but he couldn't stifle the nagging worry that he might overlook an important source because potions weren't his field of expertise and because he tried to wage a war simultaneously. 

  Severus sat up. He was far too restless to sleep. And indecisive about what to do instead as he was sitting on the edge of his bed in the dark, staring at the bright trapezium the moonlight painted onto his floor.

  The diary.

  The thought shot through his mind so suddenly that he couldn't even tell where it came from. After he'd watched Hermione's memories he'd thought about his diary a lot but then Adia had happened and he'd lost track of it. Now it was back. 

  He stood up, took his wand, and went to Hermione's room. It had to be here somewhere. Severus turned on the light and said, “Accio diary!” The uppermost drawer of a little cupboard sprang open and his diary flew into the air and straightly into his outstretched hand. Severus huffed pleased.

  He skimmed through the pages and arched his eyebrows when he found entries about halfway through it that weren't his. So Hermione had not only read his diary (which in and of itself was enough for him to want to hex her to the next century and back) but she had written in it herself! He squinted his eyes shut, not sure whether he should be furious or impressed by her guts. In any case, it explained why she hadn't given the diary back to him.

  But it still was his diary.

  Severus fetched a glass from the kitchen and sat down at the little table in his room with the bottle of wine Albus had given him along with his personal stuff. In the dim candlelight, he looked for the first of Hermione's entries. There. Starting the first word the ink was so bold he could hardly read it; apparently, she'd hesitated for such a long time that the ink had gathered at the tip of her quill. Severus snorted softly and shook his head. Then he began to read.

10 ^th of April 2001

Sir,

you are my mission. You are the reason that I am no longer able to talk with anybody about what I am doing the whole day. So I talk with you instead. Here.
To answer some of your questions first: Yes, I read through the book. No, I didn't find anything about where you might be now. But I think if anybody can survive a long captivity it is you. Although, of course, I'll do my best to keep it as short as possible. 
I couldn't find out that much so far. Your house was a blind end. But Draco Malfoy was there. He looked at a book of poetry. What might he have thought to find in there? Does he know where you are? Is he even looking for you? I didn't reveal my identity to him, I don't trust him. 
I have to find a way to get close to Lucius Malfoy and I don't see any other way than the one you went as well. Do you think Malfoy accepts Mudbloods in his ranks?

  Severus took a sip of his wine, turned the page, and read on.

14 ^th of April 2001

Vicissitudo Virtus. Don't say a word, sir, I can imagine your tirade. Too dangerous, irreversible, difficult, nobody has survived it for long and so on and so forth – and all of that just for you. Only a dunderhead would do that for someone like you. Am I right? I think even Tonks regretted showing me that potion. 
I can't explain, not even to you, why I am still determined to do it. It is most likely something that you would call 'the stupid recklessness of Gryffindors'. I'm convinced I can deal with this new personality. And apart from that, my mission has only two possible outcomes anyway: I either die trying to free you – then it doesn't matter if I am one or two. Or I succeed in saving you – and then you will help me to find a way to live with this new personality permanently. Since we found a way to kill Voldemort this will be a piece of cake.

  She said and went on mixing bloody unicorn tears into the potion! Severus stared at Hermione's words, a deep crease between his eyebrows and the wine threatening to travel back up his gullet. 

  And not only that, but she had also naively ignored all of the other possible outcomes her mission could have had. First and foremost that Lucius could have killed him before she found out where he had been held captive. Or that he could have died in their attempt to escape while she survived. Or just that not even he had a clue how to free her from the consequences of Vicissitudo Virtus!

  Severus shut the book and ran his hands across his face. The blind trust written between the lines screamed at him, overwhelmed him. Albus had to find a way to counterbalance the unicorn tears! And the plan he'd made had to work! He couldn't stand seeing another person die because they trusted him.

  Severus had stopped reading more of Hermione's entries after that. He'd gone back to bed, had taken a dose of her sleeping potion (there wasn't much left in the vial) and forced his mind to rest. 

  When he went downstairs to prepare breakfast for Adia the next morning he found a letter from Albus in the pantry.

  Severus,

what have you done with the barrier? I cannot see anything anymore!

  Albus

  Severus arched his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't seen that coming. Then he smiled. What a nice side effect!

  Of course, it was a pity he probably wouldn't be able to talk with Albus anymore but the connection through the pantry was obviously unimpaired, and as long as they were provided with food and everything else they needed Severus first and foremost saw the advantages.

  On the very top of that list: Albus wasn't able to see them anymore! Since they'd arrived here and Hermione had explained to him what Albus had done he'd felt observed. Like a lab rat. Now they were unobserved – a little bit of freedom in this prison.

  His glee that Albus most likely wasn't amused that he couldn't observe them anymore was a close second. He liked to keep his eyes glued to his sheep, especially to him. His anger must be boundless right now and Severus was almost sorry that he wasn't able to see it. He'd have loved to see how Albus handled being on the other side of this emotion for once.

  The only positive that could also prove to be a disadvantage was that now nobody could control how he handled Adia. Whatever he decided to do, he'd only have to explain it to himself and Hermione. Severus frowned. 

  He tucked the short letter into his pocket, piled the food he needed for breakfast onto his arms and went to the kitchen. Whatever he would choose to do, he wouldn't let Adia starve.

Chapter Text

  Adia observed each of his movements, unbridled rage in her eyes. She sat on the floor, her legs cocked, her head bent backwards. 

  Severus levitated a tray carrying porridge, buttered toast and a large self-refilling bottle of water up the ladder, following close behind. It floated through the ward unrestrictedly and smoothly landed on the floor in front of Adia. “Breakfast,” Severus said and leaned against the wall behind the attic hatch, his arms crossed.

  She didn't react. Only kept staring at him with narrowed eyes.

  Severus arched his brows. “I would have thought you would be more interested in water after several hours up here.”

  At that, she took a deep breath and angled her head. “Will you let me use the loo then?”

  He clicked his tongue. “Right, I forgot.” With a flick of his wand, he conjured a bucket behind Adia. “It is self-cleaning.”

  She stared at the bucket for a few seconds, then at him. “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Do you want to break me with that? By letting me piss into a bucket?”

  “It is a start,” Severus countered.

  She snorted but eventually, she reached for the water and drank. 

  Severus looked down at his shoes. “So, you wanted my attention, Adia.” He enunciated her name precisely. “Now you have it. What do you want?”

  She frowned. “What makes you think I wanted your attention?”

  He gazed at her for a moment, then he started climbing down the ladder again without saying a word.

  “Hey! Wait! Where are you going?”

  Halfway down the ladder, Severus stopped and looked up at her. “This does,” he said coolly.

  She pursed her lips and clenched her fists. “You locked me up here! What do you think I'd do when you just disappear again?”

  He returned to the attic, used his wand to draw a chair in the air and sat down after it had materialised. “Since you are provided with food and water as well as a vessel to relieve yourself my leaving shouldn't grieve you in particular given that you consider yourself a tough fighter – except you want my attention.”

  “That I consider myself …” she echoed incredulously and struggled to her feet, crossing her arms. “I've been tough enough to find you!”

  “Indeed,” Severus replied and looked up at her unblinkingly. “And I assume you still expect me to thank you for it.”

  She huffed. “Would be a damn good start!”

  “Thank you!” Severus said. He said it in the same voice he'd used back when he had to thank James Potter for 'saving' him from Lupin. 

  Adia looked at him blankly. “What exactly did your Death Eater friends do to you when you were at their mercy? I need some inspiration for the moment I get out of here.”

  Severus smiled delicately. “That will remain my inspiration for the moment I come to the conclusion that talking won't convince you.”

  She eyed him disgustedly. “I should have let you die a miserable death,” she muttered.

  “That was not in your power, Adia,” Severus said. “Your contribution to my survival was as large as mine and trust me, mine wasn't worth mentioning.”

  She smiled mockingly. “But it was in my power to kill your beloved Hermione.”

  “Yes,” he drawled, “unfortunately, that would have killed you as well.”

  She hummed non-committally, drew nearer and leaned her shoulder against the magical barrier. “But it was fun as it was.” She laughed softly. “Your face just dropped, Severus … You should have seen it!”

  Severus laughed as well but when she looked at him he stopped instantly. “You don't want to see my face drop ever again,” he said in a dark voice.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Yes, I think I want to.” For three, four, five seconds she eyed him challengingly. Then she pushed off the barrier and paced through the attic. “What do I have to do for it, Severus? Do I have to try and kill Hermione yet again?” When he didn't reply she turned towards him. “Strictly speaking, I would have every right to do so, don't you think? Since both of you are trying to kill me it is only fair if I try to do the same.”

  “Is it possible to kill something that isn't able to exist on its own?” he asked.

  Adia twisted her face, contemplating his question. “Let me think … Hermione's child wasn't able to exist on its own either and saving you has killed it. So I do think it's possible, yes.”

  Severus bristled. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

  “Or would you say it was something else that happened to her child?” she added innocently. She returned to the barrier at a slow pace, her eyes glued to Severus. Finally, she put both of her hands against the invisible wall and said, “How close am I to seeing your face drop again, Severus? Is that enough or do I have to mention … Lily?”

  He snorted softly. “Do you really think Hermione's child and Lily are enough to put me off? Not even the Dark Lord succeeded in that.”

  “Oh, but I succeeded! And …” She looked at him, licking her lips. “… and Lucius succeeded as well.”

  Against his will, Severus tensed up. His body reacted to this name and he was unable to prevent it. Hermione's little therapy had been good but not that good. He held Adia's gaze.

  She smiled. “Yeah,” she drawled, “Lucius was able to put you off. How did he do it?” She turned around, now leaning her back against the barrier, and looked up at the roof pensively. “I saw your wounds.” She clicked her tongue. “That was really disgusting. And obviously, I don't have the opportunity to do something like that. Plus Hermione hasn't got enough time …”

  Severus closed his eyes. He should go. No, not should – he would go, now! He rose to his feet and Adia whirled around.

  “If you leave now I'll kill Hermione!” she spat. “And I don't give a damn that it kills me too. If you leave now … I'll do it.”

  He looked at her. Saw the expression in her eyes and her pinched lips. “You want my attention that badly?” he sneered.

  She scrunched her nose. “I want you to suffer as much as I do that badly.”

  He held her gaze for a few seconds. Then he sat down again.

  “Well,” Adia said. She seemed very pleased with herself. “So, where were we? Right. Lucius.” She laughed softly. “He really pushed you over the edge, Severus. I heard you scream at night. And I saw you during your little therapy. You didn't leave the door open that often but … oh well, that was an agreement with Hermione not with me.” She cast him a glance.

  Heat rose in Severus. His body hummed and he felt as if he couldn't breathe. He fixed his gaze on Adia's eyes, those black cold eyes, and everything surrounding it seemed to flicker. 

  “You twitched and whimpered,” she continued slowly. “I've always wondered what Dumbledore's problem with you is. It took us so long to find you! It's a miracle you were still alive … He couldn't have counted on it. He'd let the half Order look for Professor McGonagall but you weren't worth more to him than a twenty-one-year-old girl that isn't even good at fighting.”

  “Hermione has other qualities,” Severus interrupted her. His voice trembled, he couldn't stop it. He was losing … something. Control? Balance? Composure? He didn't know but something was slipping away from him. He should go and recollect himself but … He growled softly, clenched his fists.

  Adia laughed at that. “Oh yeah, she has. She can brew potions and heal wounds. I admit that was of help. But if I hadn't saved her arse here and there neither of us would be here.” She cocked an eyebrow and waited for an objection on his part but Severus had clenched his teeth so tightly he wasn't able to pull them apart. His heart was racing, he could feel his pulse thumping in his skull. Adia nodded. “So, you weren't worth more than a girl to Dumbledore. Why is that, Severus? Doesn't he trust you?”

  He curled his lip and took a deep breath. “He trusts me enough to lock me up with you.”

  “Yes, he trusts your expertise. He needs you to get rid of me. I was created with a potion, it will be a potion that finishes me. As to that he fully trusts you. But morally?” She shrugged her shoulders. “You are a Death Eater, he never forgave you for taking that Mark, did he?”

  Severus breathed deeply. In and out. He wouldn't let her … He cracked his knuckles.

  “Never mind, Severus. He obviously doesn't trust me either. I wasn't allowed to look for Professor McGonagall. And you were both at the very same place! What does he think I would have done had I found you in time? When this … rat would have remembered earlier that there'd been a damn elf? Does Dumbledore think I would have just left Professor McGonagall there?” She laughed mirthlessly. “Bad enough that she chose to sacrifice herself for you – I wouldn't have done it. Not for you!” She spat out the words and turned around again. “Honestly, Severus … I didn't know Professor McGonagall but considering what I see of her in Hermione's memories … You're not worth her life.”

  Before he consciously made that decision he jumped to his feet and closed his hand around her neck. The barrier didn't stop him, it didn't exist as far as he was concerned, and so he shoved Adia against the wall and tightened his grip. “Don't talk about Minerva!” he hissed while she tried to pull his fingers from her neck, her eyes as wide as saucers. She even tried to kick him in the crotch but Severus dodged her knee and laughed hoarsely while her face turned red. “Always beneath the belt, right? You are so predictable, it's pathetic.”

  Although she couldn't breathe Adia managed to glare at him.

  Severus let go of her and stepped back. She gasped for air, coughed, doubled over, and supported herself on her knees. Severus snorted and turned away to finally leave.

  But before he'd passed the barrier Adia jumped onto his back. She raked her astonishingly sharp nails through his face and screamed right at his ear.

  Severus shook her off and covered his ringing ear with his hand. He whirled around; she'd fallen to the ground but already struggled to her feet again to attack him again. Severus slipped his wand from his sleeve, pointed at her, and boomed, “Crucio!”

  Adia froze mid-movement. Not a single muscle in her body twitched. She stared at him panting, her mouth parted.

  He stared back.

  Then she laughed. Only briefly. Stopped. Laughed again, longer this time. “Fuck, Severus! You scared the hell out of me!”

  It hadn't worked. The curse had not worked. That realisation ran down his spine like an ice cube. And simultaneously he started sweating. 

  Adia regained her composure faster than him. Her pose relaxed, a triumphant expression blossoming on her face. “You can't do it anymore, Severus. You experienced it. You can't torture anymore.”

  Severus clenched his teeth until they crunched. His ear was still deaf from her scream, the scratches she'd left on his face smarted, he felt worn down and sore. With a contemptuous glare, he wrinkled his nose. “I may not be able to cast a Cruciatus anymore,” he sneered and twitched his wand while he non-verbally sent a Stupefy her way. She collapsed to the ground unconsciously. “But I can still silence you.”

  Severus stood there panting, looking down at the woman who obviously could make him dance like a puppet. No, the Dark Lord hadn't accomplished that. But back then, he hadn't had anything left meaning something to him. Now there was Hermione. He wanted her to live. And Adia knew it. Three months of torture at Lucius' hand had … broken him. He couldn't deny it. He wasn't the cold-hearted bastard any longer. Apparently, he couldn't even pretend to be anymore.

  With a dark growl, he turned around. He needed to get out of here, needed to breathe, needed to calm down. He was just letting the attic hatch snap closed behind him when one thought hit him like the tail of a Norwegian Ridgeback: He'd tried to cast Cruciatus on Adia. He'd tried to cast Cruciatus on Hermione! The hall began to sway before his eyes and Severus reached for the wall to support himself. He felt sick to his stomach, his legs gave way underneath him, he slumped to the ground.

  He hadn't used his head. He'd just acted. He'd just seen Adia coming for him and cast the first curse that sprang to his mind. And the first curse that sprang to his mind had been the bloody Cruciatus!

  Panting, he touched the scarred skin where his Dark Mark had been. Would he ever stop being a Death Eater? Would he ever stop thinking like one? Reacting like one? Probably not. Probably Albus was right to only trust him as far as he could see him. Because that was for sure: If Albus had seen that he would probably already be on his way here.

  Thank Merlin it hadn't worked. Thank Merlin Lucius had knocked the Unforgivables out of him.

  He rubbed his face and winced when he touched the scratches. Severus stood up clumsily. He needed some Dittany. And Albus was waiting for an answer.

23 ^rd of April 2001

I did it. I have a second personality now. Adia Whitmore. I have to get used to the sound of that name. To her presence in my mind. I thought it would be like a mask you can put on and off. But she's really there. I feel her. I sense her thoughts. From now on I will never do something completely on my own again. I admit that thought spiralled me into a little panic attack earlier. Was this really the right thing to do?
And at the same time, I feel relieved. I didn't see that coming but I guess it makes sense. I'm not alone anymore facing this mission to find you. I got help.
Anyway, controlling her comes off easy. When I focus I can even block her from my perception. Ron was very relieved to hear that. And I was very relieved that he preferred me over Adia.
Sir, we both know that I would never talk to you about things like this. As well as we might have got along before Harry died, something like this has never been a topic between us. But I need a space for these thoughts that I don't even dare speak out loud in front of Tonks. Here it feels like somebody listens – and at the same time not. Please excuse my little drama.
Aida … Honestly, I' cannot hold a candle to her. I've always been content with how I look. Aside from my teeth, I never wanted to change anything about myself, not even this bird-nest of hair. But Adia can make you feel like less of a person. She's not just like any woman I know or that walked past me on the street. She's a part of me. An absolutely better-looking part. A seductive part. I think I'm a bit jealous of that new side in me.
End of drama. 
Today I took Adia out for the first time. We were at the 'La Poule Noire', the Death Eater venue. Lucius Malfoy became aware of her and she plays him like I never would have been able or dared to. So … Hold on, sir. We're getting closer. 

  Severus read this entry multiple times. While Hermione had obviously always remembered that she was writing in his diary and that he would probably read her words someday, for him it felt like he was reading her private diary. Awkward. And wrong.

  He continued nevertheless.

28 ^th of April 2001

Attack on the minister's home. Adia was amongst the Death Eaters. Saw Ron die. 
Later more.

  Severus closed his eyes and held his breath, a pulse of adrenaline coursing through his body. So it happened on the 28^th of April. Four weeks after his capture.

  He put the book on the table and placed a sheet of parchment between the pages. Then he grabbed the glass and the bottle of wine, both still there from yesterday, poured himself almost the whole glass and emptied it at once. It didn't even need three minutes for him to sense the alcohol. He hadn't eaten anything today.

  Ronald Weasley's death hadn't rattled him that much when he'd seen it in Hermione's memories. But the note here reminded him of what had happened in the meantime. For example that Hermione had found out she was pregnant. She hadn't written a single word about it. 

  For the first time, it occurred to Severus that she must have already been pregnant when she took the Vicissitudo Virtus. None of the books Albus had sent him described the effect of the potion on an unborn child. Had she been afraid when the test came out positive? Had she wondered whether her child would have a second personality as well? She hadn't written anything about it. Why was that? Did it cross the border of what she had been comfortable telling him?

  Severus rubbed his forehead, then he read on. The next entry was hard to decipher, the ink smudged in many parts, the script unlike anything he'd ever seen of Hermione. He braced himself for what was about to come. And rightly so as he noticed.

29 ^th of April 2001

It is all your fault!
Because of you, I haven't been where I should have been! Because of you, Ron had no one to cover his rear! Because of you, he is dead!
Do you really think your life is worth more than Ron's? Do you think it fair that I had to sacrifice my husband for you? That was not what I signed up for!

  At this point, she'd obviously paused for a while since her script was cleaner in the next paragraph.

I will never forgive you, sir. Of course, I will do everything I can to save you. Stopping now would make a mockery out of Ron's death. But afterwards … Afterwards I don't want to see you ever again.

  Severus shut the book and pushed it away. Something strangled him. He rose to his feet and paced through the suffocatingly small room, his skin tingling. He ran his spread fingers through his hair and eventually stopped, tilting his head back.

  She was right, wasn't she? Ronald Weasley would have been alive if it weren't for him. She had every right to not want to see him ever again. And then Albus had happened and he – like always – hadn't taken account of anything and had locked her up with him, of all people, in this house.

  Even now, the rage that screamed at him from Hermione's words had hit him so hard that he wondered how she'd managed to come to terms with his presence. How she'd managed to open up a bit to him, to accept his offer of help. 

  He glanced at the diary, innocently lying on the table. Lily. Harry Potter. Draco. Minerva. Ronald Weasley. Hermione's child. These names circled through his mind like flies over a dunghill. Regardless of how often he slapped them away, they always returned. 

  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and emptied his mind. Let go of these thoughts. His heartbeat calmed down.

  The lab. He would go down to the lab and start the bleaching potion he'd need to lighten up the sycamore. He could prepare the potion now, it was storable. And it would busy him. Distract him. He had to return to Adia later, he needed a clear mind for it.

  “You stupified me!” Adia shouted as soon as Severus poked his head through the attic hatch.

  He stilled momentarily, cocked an eyebrow. Then he climbed up the remaining rungs and sat down on the chair still standing there since morning. “You owed me one,” he sneered. 

  She scoffed. “My leg is still numb!”

  “You'll get over it,” he replied easily.

  “And I pissed myself!”

  Severus rolled his eyes, slid his wand into his hand, and cast a cleansing spell over her and her clothes. “Are you quite done complaining now?” he then asked.

  “No!” She scrambled to her feet and stepped as close to the barrier as possible, her hands on her hips. “Do you even know how hot it is up here?”

  Once again, Severus twitched his wand. “28 degrees Celsius.”

  “And you think that's okay?”

  “I wouldn't call it okay but it is summer, temperatures like these are known to happen in summer, even in Great Britain.”

  She pursed her lips until they went white. “This attic is a bloody sauna, I don't have a bed, not even a soddin' chair! And I haven't got anything to eat since this morning!”

  He looked at her unimpressed. “You got water and if you feel hot just take off your clothes. Considering your affinity to sexualised behaviour you shouldn't have a problem with it. And if you do, be assured that I could never feel attracted to a woman like you. The furniture you mentioned … Well, I might consider giving it to you – if you behave yourself.”

  For a moment, she was actually lost for words. Then she scoffed again and took off her shirt. She looked at him appraisingly, only clad in her jeans and her bra.

  Severus tilted his head and let his gaze rove across her body. His attack this morning had left bruises on her neck and even he noticed that these weren't her clothes. The bra was too small, the jeans about an inch too wide at the waist. Hermione's body was differently proportioned than Adia's.

  “Do you find something you like after all?” she asked huskily. It took her no effort to go back to her seductive tone of voice.

  “No.”

  Adia crossed her arms in front of her chest. “What exactly do you mean with 'behave myself'?” she returned to the matter at hand.

  “Keep your fingernails to yourself.”

  “All right. As long as you don't go for my throat again …”

  “Don't tempt me to,” Severus growled.

  “As if it is my fault that you cannot control yourself!” she hissed and raised her chin.

  A muscle beneath his eye twitched. 

  “Do I finally get something to eat?” she impatiently asked a few seconds later.

  Severus looked down the ladder behind him. “Wingardium leviosa!” he said and the tray he'd left at the foot of the ladder hovered up, slid through the barrier and once again landed at Adia's feet smoothly. He Accioed the used tableware from breakfast and watched Adia sit down on the ground, starting to eat.

  “One ought to think a damn Potions Master would be able to season a meal properly,” she uttered between two bites.

  “Potions don't get seasoned. I'm not a bloody chef.” Severus crossed his legs, one knee above the other, and his arms over his chest as well while he observed her. “Why did you start fighting against Hermione?”

  Adia rolled her eyes and tucked a broccoli floret into her mouth before she replied, “She started to push me away. What else was I supposed to do?”

  “Respect her?” Severus suggested. “It is her body, you have no say in that matter.”

  She straightened and looked at him challengingly. “So I was supposed to just let her use me?”

  “Yes.”

  She shook her head and returned to her meal without saying a word.

  “What?” Severus inquired.

  “Nothing. I just thought of all the people in Hermione's pathetic life at least you would understand me. But since I got to know you a little better by now I should have known that wouldn't be the case.”

  “Why should I understand you?” He wrinkled his nose.

  Adia's gaze hit him unexpectedly hard. “Because you were used for a mission and got weeded out afterwards just like me.” She let her words sink in before she continued, “Don't we deserve a life? Are we only good enough as long as we can be of use?”

  Severus's pulse suddenly quickened. “There is no we,” he said hollowly.

  She huffed. “Of course, there isn't.” And took another bite of her meal. “I want this body, Severus! I want to live! I have the bloody right to live!” she said with her mouth full.

  Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly. “You're not even real, Adia. You weren't born. The very fact that you have to take the body of another person clearly shows that you have no right!”

  “That's a matter of perspective,” she countered without looking at him. “You're at least right in so far that you have to break me to stop me from trying everything I can to get this body. And you won't succeed in breaking me. Nobody can break me.” The glance she cast him with these words was a promise.

  “We will see,” Severus said and that was a promise as well.

  A smile curled Adia's lips. “This will be thrilling, don't you think?”

  Severus didn't reply. He stood and stepped onto the uppermost rung of the ladder to leave the attic.

  “What about a damn bed now?” Adia called after him.

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Severus replied without faltering.

  “Miserable bastard!” she cried, followed by a bang; maybe she'd tried to throw something at him without thinking of the barrier. 

  Severus snorted softly. He hoped it had been the plate with her food. He took a breath of relief when the closing hatch cut off her insults.

  That evening, Severus found the ordered ingredients in the pantry (amongst others a cage with five little sparrows raising a riot when he entered) along with the book The Magical Potential by Rowan Bristlecone and a letter from Albus.

Severus,

it worries me that the connection to you has been limited to the pantry. Consider it a sign of my trust that I don't alter the barrier.

  Severus snorted and closed his eyes. Sign of trust …

  He read on.

Regarding the effect of the barrier on the pantry, I can reassure you. Whatever amount of magic you transfer into it, the pantry will always work as a portal.

Enclosed are the ingredients you asked of me, furthermore the only book I found helpful to counter the unicorn tears. It charges a lot but I expect you to do everything possible to save Hermione.

Albus

  Severus put the letter aside and took a closer look at the book. He frowned. And then he understood. Magic. A wizard's or a witch's magic was the only thing as powerful as unicorn tears. He gulped. Albus expected him to sacrifice his magic to save Hermione. That was why he trusted him regarding the barrier. He wanted something from him. Yet again.

  To his surprise, Severus didn't feel as disgusted by this order as he'd felt by many others Albus had given him in the past. Quite the opposite: He found nothing but approval in him. Even without Albus's admonishing words, he would have been ready to even sacrifice his life for Hermione. He was the reason her family was dead – saving her life was the least he could do. He didn't even have to think about it twice.

Chapter Text

  Having to sacrifice his magic to counterbalance the unicorn tears opened a can of worms that Severus hadn't anticipated. The potion had to be finished with a spell. Since he wouldn't be able to use magic by then Hermione would have to do it – or Adia. Plus he wouldn't be able to keep Adia at bay magically anymore. Considering the amount of magic she would accumulate due to Hermione's suppressed emotions that would be a disastrous mix.

  He'd contemplated whether he could just use Hermione's excess magic to counterbalance the unicorn tears. It seemed the natural thing to do. But the unicorn tears were of a purity that had to be countered as well and Hermione's magic wasn't tainted. She'd never taken someone's life, had never tortured or - as far as he knew - cast one of the Unforgivables. Despite everything the war had done to or taken from her, she'd preserved her magical purity. She'd even created Adia so she wouldn't be able to change anything about it. 

  His magic, on the other hand … Severus huffed and rubbed his face. He had murdered, tortured and cast more Unforgivables than he cared to count. His magic was tainted and therefore perfectly suited to counterbalance the unicorn tears. It had to be his magic. 

  He'd used the last evening to watch Hermione's memory of creating the Vicissitudo Virtus again and set up a work schedule. She'd added the secretion of the sundew first so he would start with the aloe vera secretion. Next, she'd let the potion sit for an hour – he would do the same.

  Then she'd added the grounded ebony and gently folded it in the potion. He would counterbalance it with the bleached sycamore. Again, she'd let the potion sit but only for half an hour. He wondered why she'd done that. None of the books discussing the Vicissitudo Virtus mentioned periods of rest between adding the individual ingredients. But they undoubtedly affected the potion and Severus had to copy them.

  Her third ingredient had been the blend of dragon blood and Ronald Weasley's blood. She'd let it slowly drip into the potion. Severus had contemplated whether he could counterbalance Weasley's blood with his own but Hermione had used her husband's blood because he'd been a pure-blood. She'd needed a pure-blood personality (or at least one that identified as pure-blood and acted that way) to worm her way into Lucius's ranks. So Severus needed the blood of a muggle-born magician to balance it. He could either ask Albus for a suiting blood sample – or he needed Hermione for that as well. Using her blood would certainly be more effective than using the blood of a random muggle-born magician. She'd been married to Weasley, she was his counterpart in more than one way.  

  He would mix her blood with that of the sparrows to counterbalance the dragon's blood. Just thinking about having to obtain this ingredient made him break out in a sweat, though. The sparrows had to survive, he would have to be extremely cautious. For now, he put the matter aside. 

  Finally, she'd added the unicorn tears. First three drops, then three more as if she'd wanted to be sure their influence would stop Adia from drifting to the dark side of magic.

  Severus would transfer his magic to tears as well. To his own, to be precise, because just like the unicorn tears they had to come from the same individual as the magic, in this case from him. 

  And eventually, the spell.

  He put the quill aside and slumped down in his chair, exhaling deeply. That could work. Had to. That had to work. Provided he could get Adia to drink the potion. She had to do it voluntarily just like Hermione had done it voluntarily. So even if he would still be able to use magic at that point he couldn't force her with the Imperius. He had to find a way to either make her desperate enough so she would prefer taking the potion over her further existence – or he had to change her mind. But thinking of the conversations they'd had so far he didn't consider her to be of the understanding type.

  Severus rubbed his forehead. Merlin, he was the wrong person for this job. Minerva probably could have talked Adia into taking the potion within an hour. But Minerva was dead. Even Albus could do it; he was frighteningly talented in persuading others to sacrifice their life because it was the right thing to do. But the pantry didn't enable humans to cross over, he'd asked Albus. The possibility that Death Eater could invade Hogwarts and find the counterpart of the chamber might be little but he didn't want to risk it. Nothing alive larger than a gnome could pass through the chamber.

  For a brief moment, Severus had considered testing this fact and sending their damn gnome to Hogwarts. But since its little field trip into their parlour the gnome had been quiet and so Severus had abandoned that thought. They were dependent on Albus's goodwill, he shouldn't carry things too far.

  Sighing, he reached for the book Albus had sent him last. The Magical Potential. Severus had read it last night, more or less attentively. Most of it wasn't relevant to his purpose. Having to counterbalance unicorn tears in a potion was such a specific problem that nobody had ever written anything about it (though Severus intended to change that in the future). But he'd found hints and evidence that made him understand how Albus had concluded that this would work. Severus shared his opinion.

  However, he hadn't found any hints about whether he would lose his magic forever when he transferred it to the tears. Hermione had just proven that magic was capable of increasing and accumulating but was it able to regenerate? Or would he remain a Squib for the rest of his life?

  Severus sighed. And realised that even if that were the case … He wouldn't shed a tear over his magic as long as it freed Hermione from Adia.

  Hermione … 

  Severus turned his gaze to the window. It was a cloudy day and colder than yesterday. Adia would be glad; maybe the temperature in the attic would decrease by half a degree.

  She had her back turned towards him, standing at the tiny round window at the backside of the attic. She'd donned her T-shirt again and Severus let the tray with her meal float through the barrier as always. It landed at a spot approximately two feet behind her. Adia just cast it a brief glance. “For how long do you plan to go on like this, Severus? For how long do you want to lock me up here?”

  He sat down and crossed his legs. “As long as is necessary.”

  “Necessary for what? Necessary until I agree to let you kill me?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Although 'kill' is not quite the right word. It is more a restoration of your original state.”

  Now she did turn around, leaned against the wall and folded her arms over her chest. “My original state was non-existent. For me, that's the same as killing.”

  “Wrong. Your original state was being a part of Hermione. You are a part of her personality that was separated and reshaped. It is impossible to kill a part of someone's own personality.”

  She huffed. “What happened to your missing personality parts then? Or did you really never own something like compassion and morality?”

  Severus's brows twitched. “Coming from you, Adia?”

  “I can't afford to exhibit either the one or the other.”

  He bent forward on his chair. “Yes, you could. But you aren't programmed to have compassion or think morally. So much so that Hermione thought it necessary to render it impossible for you to use Dark Magic.”

  She arched an eyebrow as if she wanted to mock him and said, “Maybe someone should have done the same for you.”

  “Yes, someone should have done that. But contrary to you, I am able to decide.”

  “Really? Let me guess: You decide against morality and compassion every single day?”

  “I decide based on the situation.”

  “So, that means I'm not a situation causing you to decide for it.”

  Severus barked a laugh. “No, you are not.”

  She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. “What have I ever done to you, Severus?”

  “This is not about what you did to me – although it would be enough to want to get rid of you. It is about what you're doing to Hermione.”

  Adia snorted. “The perfect Hermione,” she muttered. “But that's not what I mean.” She looked him straight in the eyes and although she was standing about three and a half metres away from him her gaze couldn't have been more intense were she standing right in front of him. “You couldn't stand me from the first time we met. You already started making plans to kill me before you even got to know me. That was long before I did anything to Hermione she wouldn't have wanted. Why?”

  “Vicissitudo Virtus personalities are always problematic. Some earlier, the others later.”

  “Is that so? Maybe I would have become the exception.”

  “Obviously not,” Severus said. “If you really had wanted to coexist with Hermione in peace you would have done so. Then it wouldn't have mattered to you what I think about you as long as Hermione knows who you are. But it only took a little bit of resistance from Hermione and you started to act up.”

  “I won't let her cage me!” she said with all of her pent-up frustration.

  “You are caged”, Severus reminded her calmly. “And even if you weren't confined to this attic you would be to this house.” And if not to this house, he added silently, then to your guilt.

  “I'd prefer the house over the damn attic!”

  “I bet. But I won't risk you stabbing me while I sleep.”

  A smile curled her lips. “So you are afraid of me?”

  “As much as I'm afraid of a doxy. I don't want them near me.”

  “Yes,” she drawled, “and you also want to intoxicate and dispose of me, right?”

  “Restore,” Severus repeated.

  She waved her hand dismissively and turned to the window again. “Just bugger off, Severus.”

  And so he did.

  During the next two days, Adia refused to talk to Severus. She refused to eat as well, he always took the trays back untouched. He didn't address her hunger strike but used the time to prepare the potion. The sycamore was finished bleaching and Severus had dried and ground it to a fine powder. He'd also extracted the aloe vera secretion and preserved it in a small glass flask. Next, he had to extract the blood of the sparrows and he dreaded it so much that he took his diary outside instead and sat on the terrace to read the next entries from Hermione. As long as Adia didn't agree to take the potion it would be pointless to have it finished anyway.

1st of May 2001

The Death Eaters are a disgusting piece of rubbish!

  Severus snorted and shook his head reading this first sentence. He agreed with that sentiment from the bottom of his heart and was very interested in what had led her to that conclusion.

Malfoy invited all of us to celebrate Beltane. Professor Dumbledore didn't even want to let me go. Stupid old man! Who else should get close to the Death Eaters? Our new spy is in my damn body! 
However.
I thought it would be easy. Maybe a dinner. Maybe some house-elves walking around with trays and getting humiliated. Probably a big fire. I thought the most difficult on that evening would be to stand in front of my husband's murderer and not let him know who I am. 
I've never been so wrong.
It was a damn orgy!
Has it always been like this, sir? Were feasts with the Death Eaters always “celebrated” with Muggle women and men under the Imperius Curse? Have female Death Eaters always been invited as well and have they always been so enthusiastic to participate? Or did it only escalate so terribly after Malfoy took over? Why even Muggles? I thought Death Eaters were disgusted by Muggles! Well, they are obviously good enough to rape!
I had to leave the ballroom several times because I wasn't able to stand by and watch any longer. Did you take part in these feasts, sir? Is the man I'm trying to save a rapist?

  Severus lowered the book although he wasn't finished with the entry. Beltane. Damn.

  Of everything he had to do because of his espionage attending the Beltane and Samhain feasts had been the worst. It was nothing Lucius had come up with. It wasn't even something the Dark Lord had come up with. The feasts in this form rose between the more sadistic Death Eaters. The Dark Lord had acquiesced to them, it hadn't mattered to him. And Lucius couldn't stop them without causing a riot.

  There wasn't a lot left that Severus and Lucius agreed upon but this certainly was part of it. They'd never participated in the orgies. But they'd always been there. Lucius because he had to offer the location, Severus because he couldn't miss a thing. The Death Eaters always chin-wagged, the more alcohol they'd consumed the merrier they'd talked. He'd hated these feasts with a passion but he'd got to know a lot attending them.

  This time, he had to force himself to continue reading.

Yesterday, I've been afraid of Adia for the very first time. She wanted to take part. She turned out so extremely sexual that she wanted to take part. Not necessarily with one of the Muggle men but there was enough sex happening amongst the Death Eaters as well and she'd have loved to use that opportunity. She flirted with Macnair! I still get sick when I think about it.
I held her back and obviously, that was the right thing to do. Malfoy asked us if we didn't want to enter the fray and when I refused he invited me to a glass of wine in his library. I withdrew for that part of the evening, let Adia handle it, I don't know what I would have done otherwise, alone with him in the library …
They talked, a lot. It's just sick what this man thinks about Muggles and Muggle-borns. But he didn't mention a single word about you and Adia didn't find an opportunity to bring it up. You seem to be taboo. Nobody talks about you. Persona non grata.

  Severus wasn't surprised about Adia wanting to take part in the Beltane feast. After all, she'd tried to seduce him and one had to be very desperate to do that. But he could easily imagine Hermione's horror about it. The chaste, moral Hermione Granger that only ever knew right or wrong and good or bad would never even think about partaking in an orgy – not even if all participants would have their heads on straight, do it voluntarily and weren't Death Eaters. Adia's highly developed sexuality must have been a challenge for her.

  What surprised him though was the discretion regarding him. He'd had a lot of visitors. Admittedly, almost only Death Eaters who had already served the Dark Lord but without a doubt, they'd all been at the Beltane feast. Hermione had mentioned Walden and Bellatrix would have never missed out on an opportunity to rape some Muggles.

  Severus gulped.

  Maybe Lucius had put everything concerning him under a spell. Maybe nobody had been able to talk about him. Certainly, Lucius had expected the Order to look for Severus. That alone would have been reason enough to not talk about him in front of a new Death Eaters.

  No wonder it had taken Hermione so long to find him. It was more of a miracle that she'd succeeded at all. 

  That she had to face her husband's murderer so quickly after his death and mime the loyal servant was something Severus wasn't able to grapple with right now. He put the thought aside and read the next entry.

6th of May 2001

Adia was at her first official Death Eater meeting today.
Apparently, Malfoy tries to get hold of me. He blamed Rookwood for not finding the Mudblood. I wonder what he wants me for. 
As much as Professor Dumbledore hates that I'm still looking for you, it is good that Adia is in me and that she can use my knowledge. Obviously, Malfoy runs out of potions to create these masks and none of his servants is clever enough to identify the recipe amongst your records. Did they ever only insult Muggle-borns at Hogwarts or why are they unable to accomplish such a simple task? At least Draco should have been able to find the right recipe. He wasn't much worse at potions than me.
Instead, the wretched ferret recognised me. He saw me Stupefy another Death Eater recently and when I wanted to take care of that recipe the truth probably dawned on him. He didn't betray me. I don't trust him, I don't know what to think of him, but he didn't betray me.
However, my offering to find the recipe helped to curry favour with Malfoy. I proved to be of use.

  Ferret? Severus frowned. She meant Draco, so much was obvious to him but why … Then he remembered Moody, or rather Barty Crouch Junior, and that he'd turned Draco into a ferret. Severus rolled his eyes and looked down at the text again.

  Hermione seemed to have paused at this point. With the first words of the next paragraph, the ink was so bold that he could barely discern the letters.

I hate you for Ron's death, sir. I hate you so much. But by now, this is as much my diary as it is yours. I don't know if I will ever return it to you. Maybe I split it someday or it simply sinks into oblivion. How are you even supposed to learn that I have it?
Be that as it may … 
Ron's funeral. I swear, I can remember hardly anything. The day is hidden behind a veil. I didn't think I could survive it. 
The Golden Trio is history. Only I am left. Sometimes I feel like this is all the others see in me. The ruined survivor of the Golden Trio. I don't think I act that part convincingly. I don't know how. I don't know what they expect. And at the same time, I don't care. I don't have time for it. My finals are due in two weeks, I have to study. And I have to find you. And I have to attend these ruddy Death Eater meetings. I … don't have the time to be the ruined survivor.

  The sunlight was so bright on the pages of the diary that Severus's eyes started to water. He closed them for a moment and rubbed them with his thumb and pointer while he marked the page with a finger of his other hand. 

  He remembered an entry he'd written into one of his former diaries. I hate Dumbledore for not protecting Lily. Did Hermione have an inkling of how much he could understand her? Certainly not when she wrote this text. At that point, nobody had known how he felt for Lily except for Dumbledore.

  He blinked and turned to the next entry.

8th of May 2001

Obviously, Adia is as pregnant as I am. She almost threw up in the cauldron when I prepared this mask potion today. Mashed fish liver was never one of my favourites but now … I have to try to keep that from her more thoroughly. It is bad enough that Draco knows who's behind Adia, he doesn't need to know that I'm pregnant. And he shouldn't get to know it first! 
I really want to tell somebody. At least Ginny. But I can't. I can't say the words. They already handle me with kid gloves; if they know this I can go nowhere without somebody questioning whether I am able to do this. Dumbledore would instantly cancel my mission and neutralise me. You would die and Ron would have died in vain. I can't risk it.

  Severus rubbed his temple. Again, he had the urge to stop her although it was way too late. He would love nothing better than to go to Albus in her stead and tell him about the pregnancy. He wasn't worth sacrificing her child. He wasn't even worth sacrificing Weasley! If she only had sent someone else to free him from this shed … If she'd only been more cautious … 

  If, would, had – the source of every single one of his sleepless nights. The golden thread of his life. If he'd never joined the Death Eaters … If he'd only listened to Lily … If he'd only got himself killed fighting the Dark Lord … 

  Too late.

  Severus glanced at his clock. He still had some time left until supper so he read the next entry as well.

10th of May 2001

I knew Draco planned something! The ferret really went to Dumbledore and piggybacked on my mission! He claims he wants to get away from the Death Eaters. He wants Dumbledore's protection in exchange for information concerning your whereabouts. He says he even visited you and saw to your survival but unfortunately, he can't say where you are. He got to you with a Portkey. Allegedly nobody except Malfoy himself knows where the exact location of your prison is. And of course, Malfoy keeps said Portkey safe as well. He alone decides who's allowed to visit you.
All of this is so absurd and vague and still, Dumbledore agreed to it! How could Draco possibly be of help to me if he can't report anything substantial? Fine, so he went to see you. And he took care that you will suffer for a very, very long time coming if I don't find you soon. And that is all he can offer?
I'm so angry right now, I'd love to destroy something! I better stop lest it'll be your book.

  Severus's eyebrows climbed higher and higher up his forehead while he read this entry. Hermione didn't need to spell her rage out to him. It literally jumped him. Even her script looked angry.

  He frowned and held the book closer to his face. Then he huffed. He knew Hermione's handwriting and that wasn't hers. It was almost hers but not exactly. His years at Hogwarts had honed his ability to discern even the tiniest differences in the characters of scripts. No student ever managed to deliver the work of someone else. Adia had written this entry, at least she'd lurked close to the surface. Maybe it was her rage and not so much Hermione's.

  He absolutely believed that Hermione disapproved of Draco. As far as he knew Draco had never given her a reason to change her mind about him. But some entries back she'd been relieved to not be alone with this mission any longer. Information from Draco – regardless of how few or vague – would have made her react in another way. Plus Draco was a lot closer to Lucius than Adia. Having him by her side at least provided her with some opportunities. Hermione would have seen that and bitten the bullet.

  Adia however … 

  Adia hated it when someone tried to meddle in her fight. He'd felt her lash and Hermione had too. And maybe … Maybe Draco had felt her lash as well.

  Severus browsed through the diary and skimmed the entries, looking for Draco's name. But not even the entry in which Hermione mentioned his death told him anything about how it had happened. Did Hermione even know what had happened? She'd said she knew almost everything that Adia knew. Was this something Adia hid from her?

  A frown built between Severus's eyebrows. He shut the book and rose. He had to talk to Adia and this time, he wouldn't accept her silence.

Chapter Text

  Adia was leaning her back against the barrier when Severus climbed up the ladder. She only cast him an indifferent glance over her shoulder while he ascended the last rungs. 

  Severus however went straight to her, reached through the barrier, and put his hand around her throat, pressing her hard against the resistance that only existed for her. “What have you done to Draco?” he hissed close to her ear. 

  Adia gasped and when he let go of her she struggled to her feet and whirled around. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she screamed panting.

  “Draco Malfoy!” Severus said. “How are you involved in his death?”

  “I'm not! What makes you even think I am?”

  He pulled the diary from his pocket and held it up. This time, Adia's face dropped – but only for a second or two. Then she pursed her lips until they were merely two thin lines on her face. “What – have you – done?” he asked softly.

  She gulped and met his gaze. “It isn't my fault! He didn't stick to the agreements.”

  “Which agreements?”

  “He was to go into hiding. He should have long been there! How should I have known that -” She broke off. “He was an idiot! It is not my fault!”

  Severus clenched his teeth until it felt like his jaw was about to burst. “I'm warning you, Adia, my patience with you is at an end.”

  She raised her chin, snorting. “As if my word would make any difference … You don't like me and it's much more convenient for you to make his death my fault than his.”

  “Little surprising,” he drawled, “since Hermione squirmed out of answering my questions regarding Draco and you obviously despised him.” Again, he raised the diary, then he looked around for the chair and threw the notebook onto it.

  “Just because I despise someone doesn't mean I kill them!”

  “Of course, you do! You tried to kill Hermione!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Get over it, Severus! She's still alive.” The unspoken unfortunately resonated in her tone of voice.

  Severus slipped his wand from his sleeve. 

  Adia's eyes widened before she twisted her mouth derisively. “What are you going to do now? Another Cruciatus? Do you think you'll do better this time?”

  He caught her gaze which was an easy thing to do; her stubbornness stopped her from avoiding his eyes. Then he raised his wand and said, “Legilimens!” When she heard it, it was already too late to resist.

  Severus looked around in her mind, more reckless than he'd done with Hermione. Adia wasn't a skilled Occlumens, talking about Draco had been enough to drag all her memories about him to the surface. And one memory she tried to push away so vehemently that Severus went straight for it. 

  “No!” he heard her yelp just before he dove into it.

  It was dark, Adia loitered in the shadows in front of the gates of Malfoy Manor. She glanced around, obviously waiting for something. Or someone.

  The wrought-iron gate creaked when it was opened a fraction. A tiny creature waved for her. A house-elf. Adia headed to him and slipped onto the grounds. “Master Malfoy is gone now, Skorcher will take Miss down to the dungeon,” the elf said, glancing around even more than Adia had just done. He was obviously uncomfortable with what he had to do.

  “The sooner the better,” Adia said and held her hand out for the elf to take.

  He did so reluctantly and Apparated her down into the dungeons. The hallway was bleak and only lit by a few torches on the walls. On each side, there were four doors, eight cells in total. Little windows were embedded in the doors that apparently were only visible from the outside; Severus couldn't remember his cell's door having a window. 

  “Mr Snape's cell is there,” Skorcher said and pointed his trembling finger at one of the doors.

  Adia moved quietly although there was no one else around down here, peeking through the window. “There's nobody,” she said before she turned around and went to every single door, peeking through every single window. “In no cell is somebody!” Finally, she returned to his cell and pushed the door open; it had been left ajar. She looked around the empty room and Severus remembered seeing this moment when he'd been in Hermione's mind as well. But only this moment. Adia had hidden from him the part before and what was about to come now.

  She scrutinised the traces of blood on the floor and the walls, found his hair sticking to the chains. Then she turned around, looking as if she wanted to hold the failure of this mission against the elf, but it wasn't the elf standing in the doorway.

  It was Lucius Malfoy, grasping the thin arm of the elf with one hand, his lips pursed, and his wand and something looking like a paperknife in his other hand. “Adia,” he said and raised his eyebrows. “I can't wait to hear your explanation.”

  Adia gulped but when she spoke her voice was clear of any hesitation. “I was looking for Draco,” she said.

  “Here?” Lucius pressed. “With the help of a house-elf?” He dragged the whimpering creature in front of him.

  “Yes. You were not present or I, of course, would have reported my worries to you.”

  “What worries?” Lucius snapped and Severus reluctantly sympathised with him. It was reassuring to see that Adia was able to not only drive him up the wall with her incoherent and incomplete answers.

  Adia squirmed visibly but Severus was sure it was only show. Eventually, she said, “I'm afraid your son … He's working for the Order.”

  Lucius's eyes widened. He let go of the elf and approached Adia with long strides, grasping her throat just like Severus had done. “You call my son a traitor?” he hissed, his face turning red.

  Adia gasped. Lucius literally lifted her from her feet and she reached for his arm and tried to get out of his grip. “Picked my … brain,” she squeezed out. “Sn-nape!” His name made Lucius finally loosen his grip. Adia stumbled back and almost tumbled to the ground. She gasped for air and supported herself on her knees.

  “What are you saying?” Lucius inquired dangerously softly. “And I'm warning you: Tell me everything or you will regret it!”

  She looked up at him, coughed, and explained, “Draco questioned me about Snape. He thought you were holding him captive and since you entrusted me with these important matters he apparently thought I'd know something about it. I told him that this Snape must well deserve what you were doing with him and that he should keep his nose out of it. I kept an eye on him afterwards, though, and saw him talking with the house-elves. Earlier, I went to see him because of our mission in the Ministry. But nobody knew where he was, not even the elves. And when I heard that you weren't present as well I feared the worst. I forced Skorcher to take me here. And Snape is gone!” When she quieted she was standing upright again and looked Lucius straight in the eyes.

  He held her gaze for a few seconds, his upper lip twitched. Then he shook his head. “Draco doesn't have Snape. He was taken away on my order.” But he said it as absent-mindedly as if he would consider her words. “And obviously, Draco isn't here either,” he then added in a firm voice. “Go back to the kitchen, elf,” he said directed at Skorcher, “I'll get back to you later.” Skorcher bent down deeply and Disapparated with a pop. 

  “And you,” he then said to Aida, “will come with me.” He grabbed her arm and held out the brass-coloured paperknife to her. It turned out to be the Portkey; as soon as she touched it, it was activated and took them both back to the upper floor. Immediately, Lucius pulled the Portkey from her grip and put it back into a casket standing on the desk. He snapped it shut.

  “Could Draco know where Snape is now?” Adia asked.

  “No!” Lucius bellowed. “Only me, Walden and Augustus know where he is.”

  Severus was surprised to see Lucius confide in Adia that much. Apparently, she'd succeeded in gaining his trust. He seemed to want to believe her, he refused to see her as a possible traitor. On the other hand, she was at his mercy either way and she would only leave Malfoy Manor when he allowed her to. So what did he have to lose?

  Adia drew her fingers through her hair; she acted her part really well. “Do you know where your son is, sir?”

  Lucius cast her a sharp glance but he didn't answer. “Come with me,” he said and took her by the arm once again, dragged her along, out of his office and across the hallway. He opened a door and pushed her inside. “You will stay until I have sorted out that matter.”

  Severus couldn't tell for how long Adia sat in this room. Perhaps she couldn't even tell herself. Somewhen the door opened and a house-elf said, “Tibbis is to escort Miss to the door.”

  Adia rose to her feet, for a moment obviously confused. “What … I can leave? Just like that?”

  “Tibbis is to escort …” the elf started repeating the same sentence.

  “Yes, I got it!” Adia hissed and followed the elf to the front door. She didn't exchange another word with the elf and they didn't meet anybody either. When the door was closed behind her Adia looked at it disbelievingly before she Disapparated.

  Severus left Adia's mind. She was panting, her forehead covered with sweat. She glared at him. “Are you happy now?” she hissed.

  And just like he had done the evening when Hermione had asked him this question he shook his head. “No.”

  Adia scoffed and ran her hands across her face. “Draco should have already been in hiding that evening! I thought Malfoy hadn't been able to find him and concluded that he's in fact been a traitor. I thought that was why he let me go. But the next day, Dumbledore told Hermione that Draco is dead. I don't know what has happened! And I don't care!”

  “No, you don't,” Severus growled and curled his lip.

  “Draco wouldn't have cared either. Had he been in my position, he would have sent me to my doom without hesitating!”

  “He obviously did not!” Severus interrupted her loudly. “You are still standing here, Draco is not!”

  That seemed to rattle her momentarily but she regained her composure quickly. “I had to tell Malfoy something or he would have killed me!”

  Severus snorted derisively.

  “What?” Adia snapped and spread her arms. “Would you've preferred him to kill me? Then your precious Hermione would have died as well! And you too!”

  He turned away and closed his eyes. She was right. He knew she was right. And if it really had been as she said … If it was agreed upon that Draco should have already been in hiding … Then he would have done the same being in her stead. 

  But what had gone wrong? Why hadn't Draco been in hiding? He had to write to Albus. Apparently, he was the only one knowing what had really happened to Draco. 

  “I'll bring you supper later,” Severus said hollowly and fetched the diary.

  “Stuff it, I'm not hungry,” Adia mumbled behind him.

  He looked at her. “You will eat! No more hunger strike!” She looked as if she was about to object but his glare made her shut her mouth. She wrinkled her nose and turned away.

  Severus didn't set foot in the attic when he got Adia her meal, he just levitated the tray up through the hatch. By now, he'd memorised the attic well enough so that he didn't need to see where he manoeuvred the tray.

  And when the food had arrived upstairs he sent a mattress as well. Adia didn't react. At least he didn't hear anything from her.

  Now he was standing in the lab. It was late and his eyes were itching but Albus had not answered him yet and he was too unsettled to sleep. He also was too unsettled to continue reading the diary. First, he had to know what happened with Draco. 

  The cage holding the sparrows was standing in front of him on the table. Their blood was next on his schedule. He eyed the little animals and they eyed him back sceptically, chirping softly. Five sibs. He wondered where Albus got them. 

  Sparrow blood, of course, wasn't listed in Advanced Potions Theory. The animals were completely non-magical and their blood was never used in any potion. Still, Severus was convinced they would work to counterbalance the dragon blood. Dragons might belong to the species of reptiles, not birds, but flying was a fundamental virtue of a dragon. The balancing ingredient had to be from a flying creature. From a completely non-magical flying creature. And it had to be small and innocuous. The sparrows would serve the purpose.

  He sprinkled a strand of millet with a light sleeping potion and gave it to the birds to eat. They darted for it greedily and barely a minute later they were all asleep on the bottom of the cage. Severus carefully picked up the first sparrow, removed the feathers on the nape of its neck, and used a spell to visualise the blood vessels. “Holy hippogriff,” he mumbled when he saw how thin they were. Like painted with a hair.

  Severus sighed, positioned the bird on the table, and fetched the blood extraction set Albus had sent him along with the birds. He put the needle on the tiny syringe; it had a capacity of only half a millilitre. Afterwards, he took up his wand again and tapered the needle so that it was a little bit thinner than the thickest blood vessel. 

  His brows deeply furrowed, he picked up the bird. The feathers were unexpectedly soft underneath his fingers. He had to be careful not to take too much blood. The bird had to survive and since it only possessed about three millilitres of blood in total that was a delicate task.

  At long last, Severus sat down and supported his forearms on the edge of the table, approaching the thickest vessel with the tip of the needle. He cautiously slid it into the bluish-looking vein and twisted his fingers when he slowly pulled the plunger down. He sighed in relief when blood seeped into the syringe. He didn't dare take more than a hundred microlitres though. 

  He pulled the needle from the vein, sprinkled a little bit of Dittany on the wound it'd left and laid the still-sleeping animal down to magically stop the blood sample from curdling. 

  When he was finished, Severus took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He rarely experienced moments in which he longed for a healer more desperately than right now. There probably was a neat little spell that could have done the trick but he hadn't found anything about it in the books he had on hand. The muggle way had to do.

  But he knew a spell to monitor heart rates and he used it now to keep an eye on the first sparrow while he took the next one from the cage and repeated the whole procedure.

  In the end, Severus got about half a millilitre of blood from the sparrows – which, to be honest, was almost nothing. Fortunately for him and especially for Hermione, she had used the dragon blood sparsely. She'd added ten drops of it to Weasley's blood and that equalled approximately the amount he had available now so he didn't have to take more samples after the birds recovered. 

  He put the blood under a stasis charm to keep it stable until he had to add it to the potion. And when he was finished cleaning up the lab the sleeping potion's effect also wore off. The birds squirmed in their cage, got back on their little feet, still a bit drowsy, and sat in the sand panting. Severus had provided them with water and more millet but they ignored it completely. They seemed to be okay though.

  He carried the cage upstairs when he left the lab and put it in a shady corner of the terrace, leaving the little door open. When the sparrows were fully conscious again they could get out in the garden and would hopefully see to eliminate the numbing silence in this dimension.

  On his way back to his room Severus peeked into the pantry. A little shot of adrenaline passed through his stomach when he saw the letter. He took it and went upstairs. Sinking on the corner of his bed, he unfolded it, already reading the first lines.

Severus,

I assume Draco died because he wanted to take his mother with him into the hideout I arranged for him. I cannot think of another reason that would have forced him back into his father's vicinity at that point.
Hagrid found his dead body in front of the castle's gates along with a warning from Lucius to not send a third spy because he would find and kill that one as well. The state of Draco's body suggested a duel that he regretfully lost.

In good time I will accompany you to his grave.

  Severus lowered the letter and exhaled slowly. Had it been a coincidence that both Adia and Draco had wanted to use the evening Lucius had been away from the Manor for their plans? And did Lucius return because he'd been alarmed by Adia's presence in the dungeons or had that been the coincidence in this chain of events?

  He rubbed his eyes. Only Lucius himself could provide him with answers to those questions. Apparently, he had to accept a certain lack of knowledge. But at least he now knew what had happened, if not for certain why it had happened. 

  He looked at the letter again and read the last lines.

Since we are discussing our dead: Is there anything you can tell me about Minerva's demise, Severus?

And how does the potion progress?

Albus

  Severus gulped. Right. Albus knew nothing about what had happened to Minerva. Had Lucius laid down her dead body in front of Hogwarts' gates as well? As battered as she had been? Something clenched inside of him. Or had he just dispersed her? Did Albus know for a certain that she was dead or did he only strongly assume it?

  Severus took a piece of parchment and a quill from his nightstand and sat down at the table. He and Minerva had only shared a small part of their journey. A crucial part but a small one. He would tell Albus of this small part.

  When Severus climbed up the attic the next morning, Adia was pacing between the mattress and the wall. Severus watched her for a few seconds even before he'd fully emerged from the hatch. “What is wrong?” he asked after he sat down in his usual place.

  “Nothing,” she mumbled. “Breakfast?”

  He narrowed his eyes a fraction but then he let the tray hover up and retrieved the used dishes from yesterday. “How was your night?”

  She hummed non-committally while she sat down cross-legged and began nibbling at a piece of toast.

  Severus crossed his arms but she didn't seem perceptible to his body language today. “Am I supposed to look into your mind again to get an answer?”

  Adia cast him a sharp glance. “Try it and you will regret it!”

  “I highly doubt that,” Severus drawled. “So?”

  She wrinkled her nose and said in between two bites, “Hermione shows me memories.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Does she?”

  Again, she looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Yes.”

  “What kind of memories?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Good ones …”

  “Really?”

  Adia groaned. “Do you want me to confirm each of my answers?”

  “Perhaps.” A smile played around his lips. Apparently, he had ways to annoy her as well.

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Hermione shows me good memories. Of Harry and her husband, of her school days, of her family, of parties at the Burrow, of won Quidditch matches and House Cups.”

  “That sounds … nice,” Severus commented drily.

  “That's why I'm suspicious,” Adia mumbled, her gaze pointing at the opposite wall again. “Why does she do this?”

  Severus had an assumption but he'd be damned if he told her. “She's in your head, ask her.”

  “We don't have that kind of connection,” she groused.

  “You can't communicate with each other?”

  “Not verbally, not in our head. It is more of a … communication via protest if you get what I mean.”

  “Yes,” he said, “I can imagine.” She cast him a sceptical glance. “So fighting for control has always been a part of this.”

  She nodded and reached for a bowl of scrambled eggs. “She's always been a spoilsport, even her friends called her that.”

  “Did she show you that as well?”

  “It maybe slipped between the others …”

  Severus bent forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “That you don't understand the difference between her friends calling her a spoilsport and you doing the same is another reason why you don't deserve this life, Adia.”

  She glared at him. “Just get lost, Severus.”

  He snorted, then he stood and went to the ladder. “Enjoy your meal and have fun with Hermione's little show!”

Chapter Text

  Severus levitated the tray carrying Adia's breakfast up the ladder and climbed behind. At first, he wasn't able to spot her and for a split second, he thought she found a way through the barrier. But then he saw her in the backmost corner of the attic. She sat crouched on the floor, almost blending in with the shadows.

  “Adia,” he said but she didn't react.

  He carefully approached her, his wand in his hand. When he was only a few feet away he crouched down as well. She stared at him. But she didn't seem to see him. The small muscles around her eyes were twitching. Sweat covered her face. 

  Severus snorted softly. Hermione's little show seemed to demand her full attention. 

  He rose to his feet and left the restricted section. After cooling down the attic to about 21 degrees, he placed a stasis charm on the food and left the attic. If Hermione wanted to take part in this fight he wouldn't stop her. On the contrary. He was curious to see how Adia would react to her own game.

  Since Severus wasn't able to continue his work regarding the potion at this point he took the diary and sat down on the terrace. It was raining today, at least in their neighbouring dimension. The water trailed down at the outside of the barrier, pattering over him as if he were sitting underneath a glass dome. Severus closed his eyes and listened to the sound for a few minutes before he opened the notebook.

16 ^th of May 2001

Malfoy is really out to get me. When I returned earlier five Death Eaters ambushed me. I had to tell Dumbledore so he could make sure headquarters weren't discovered. He wasn't amused. From now on I have to use Tonks's fireplace to come and go.
What does Malfoy even want from me? What's so special about me?
And what would he do if he knew that I am right under his nose all the time and even drank wine with him in his library?

  Severus huffed. Yes, that would be a revelation he'd like to see too.

  But a shiver ran down his spine when he thought about what Lucius would have done with Hermione if he'd really got his hands on her. At least about that Adia had been right: She'd saved Hermione's life with her ability to fight when they got into trouble.

19 ^th of May 2001

Sometimes I sit in our room, on our bed, with his pillow on my lap, and I feel as if I were not really there. I can't believe that he will never open the door again and grin at me.

  Severus closed his eyes. He'd never been in Hermione and Weasley's room at headquarters but he still saw it before his eyes. This mental image took his breath away for a moment. 

I'm sorry I attacked you so viciously a few pages back. I know it's not your fault. Maybe it is Dumbledore's fault; he withdrew me from Ron's squad. But first and foremost it is Malfoy's fault. He murdered Ron and every time I see him I cannot breathe. Every time Adia flirts with him I want to throw up on his shoes. Every time he looks at me and believes me to be his loyal servant I want to scream the truth right into his face.
The other day, Draco told me that he's sorry. “I am sorry father murdered him.” That's what he said. I wanted to cover my ears. I don't want to hear that! I almost spoiled the potion because it took Adia so long to drag me back to the front.
When I retreat very far and give Adia free rein it is as if I were sleeping. Then Adia's reality is my dream and for a while, I can forget that he will never open the door again and grin at me.

  Severus put the diary down and ran his hand across his mouth. His gaze got lost in the green of the grass. The pattering of the rain on the barrier was suddenly deafening. 

  He'd had thirteen years until he had to face Lily's murderer and mime the loyal servant again. Hermione had had thee days. Three – damn – days. It was inhumane what Albus had made her do. He should have let him, Severus, die instead of having Hermione do that. 

  Severus stood and went a few steps into the garden. He couldn't breathe, not even when he opened the uppermost button on his shirt, and closed his eyes.

  If only he knew why she had done all of that. She'd created a second personality in her body, lost her husband and her child, and sacrificed her freedom only to save him. That bore no proportion to who and what he was. He would have never expected such a sacrifice from anyone and he wished she wouldn't have done it. 

  Severus blinked and turned back to the terrace. The black diary was like a bill of indictment. How should he ever thank her for what she'd done for him? How should he ever pay her back?

  He swallowed. Straightened his posture. Maybe it was a start to read more of her story, to face the hell she'd gone through for him. He went back, sat down and continued reading.

24 ^th of May 2001

Draco … honestly? I … I'm lost for words. How can somebody … It … I don't know what to say.
For two damn weeks, I question him again and again about his visit with you. Two – damned – weeks! Every time we met I started all over. I let him tell it again and again, from the start, hoping he would finally throw in something useful. And now he remembers: Hey, there was a bloody house-elf! NOW!
Honestly, sir, I know you like that dumbass but he didn't help shorten your captivity. He cost you two weeks.

  Two weeks … 

  Severus didn't know how much earlier Hermione might have found the dungeons if Draco had told her right away about the house-elf. When he'd talked with her about Minerva's death she'd told him that she'd been abducted on May 25^th. He browsed through the entries and found the one in which she mentioned Draco's death. That had been the 22^nd of June, so Draco had died on the 21^st of June. Severus closed his eyes. If he only knew when Lucius had brought Minerva to him … 

  It wasn't about his two weeks more of captivity. But if Draco had mentioned the house-elf earlier Hermione might have been able to save Minerva. Like Adia, she wouldn't have given a damn about Albus forbidding her to look for her as well. Draco's ignorance regarding the house-elves probably had cost Minerva her life.

  Perhaps it was better not to know when she'd died.

  The next entry was unusually long. Severus frowned.

30 ^th of May 2001

I'm so angry I don't even know what to rant about first!
Best one thing at a time.
Professor McGonagall went missing a few days ago. She'd accompanied students to Hogsmeade and didn't return. I'm sure Malfoy has her. After all, he wanted me as well. I don't know what a sick plan is behind it, he doesn't talk about it with Adia or during the official meetings. But I just know that he has her! Who else would have taken her?
And yet, Dumbledore won't let me look for her! Adia will not get any other orders because I'm not "in control of her. What does he even mean by that? Adia never gets to the front when I don't want her to! And I decide how far to the front she gets. I can use her abilities without changing my appearance. Isn't that control? What does he think it is then? Adia, by all means, is the least of my problems! On the contrary, without her, I would be totally screwed! And if she's such a problem why doesn't he withdraw me from the mission? Exactly! Because I'm in! Because I'm the bloody spy of the Order and he needs me exactly where I am now! But no! I'm not allowed to look for Professor McGonagall!
I wonder if Dumbledore holds something against you or against Professor McGonagall. Because obviously, we are good enough for one mission but not for the other. Honestly, without Adia, I wouldn't even know how to manage all of this. Do you know what I'm dealing with right now? I try to find reasons to talk to the house-elves at Malfoy Manor without Malfoy getting suspicious. Adia hinted that she has something going on with Draco. I get sick only thinking about it but she seems to have taken Malfoy's mind off it. For now. I try to find out more about where you are. While I play the loyal servant. I have to brew potions and forge plans for how Malfoy could infiltrate the Ministry and I have to do it at the exact right pace so he doesn't get suspicious of that either. 
And here everybody comes to me with their medical issues because … because Madam Pomfrey is dead. I thought I would have more time to find you when my finals are done but instead, I have to care for Hogwarts' students as well until Dumbledore finally finds a new healer for the castle. I'm afraid he will only hire one for the next term. Meaning I will have to go on like this for another month. At least they only need me for the serious cases; your successor can tend to the easier issues.
Everybody always asks me why I'm so bad-tempered. Nobody knows what's my mission and since I'm bootlicking Ron's murderer for it I'm glad about that. Tonks only talks to me when it's absolutely necessary and Ginny hardly dares look at me. I'm nothing but angry at the moment and both of them feel it. But they don't know enough to understand me or what I have to deal with.
Dumbledore's the only one who knows everything and he wants to neutralise me! That's not fair! I work my damn arse off and that's how he's thanking me for it? Right now, I'd love nothing better than to jack it all in! Let him find and free you on his own! I'm not allowed to look for Professor McGonagall anyway.
During my school days, I always wondered why you had such a temper. Even when I knew you were the spy for the Order I wondered why you always had to vent your frustrations on others. Now I understand you, sir. All these secrets, all these cruelties I can't prevent, all these wrong assumptions about me I can't set right … Did you feel the same? And did Dumbledore pressure you as much as he pressures me?
Merlin, I'm so angry! I could hex everyone for just looking at me sideways!

  Severus snorted. His temper had been as much due to his espionage as Hermione's. She had Adia in her head and Adia was a fairly irascible character. And he … he was irritable enough on his own to hex somebody for just looking at him sideways as she'd put it. 

  But he knew everything that had given her a hard time better than he'd care to admit. Albus had sometimes warned him to control himself. In hindsight, he'd warned him for the same good reasons he'd warned Hermione. But had forbidding her to look for Minerva really been helpful in soothing the situation? Hardly, at least not from his point of view.

  He stared into the garden, lost in thoughts, listening to the chirping of the birds he'd released into the limited wild. The gnome had almost completely dug over one of the patches. Severus raised his eyebrows when he noticed it. 

  And Hermione's words tugged at another thought he would have preferred to leave untouched given their current situation: Her and Adia's relationship had been a lot more symbiotic than parasitic. They'd actually helped each other quite a lot, Adia Hermione probably even more than vice versa. He began to understand why Hermione had defended her. He began to understand why Hermione had held back from fighting for her body for such a long time. Adia wasn't an evil persona. She only was a very young persona who had been involved in very grown-up games. 

  Reluctantly he began seeing the parallels between himself and Adia that she'd mentioned a few days ago as well. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Eventually, Severus shut the book and returned to the house. It had got too dark to read anyway. Grey clouds swallowed the largest amount of daylight. And it was about time to look for Adia.

  When Severus stepped into the attic this time he saw Adia immediately. She sat on the mattress, her arms slung around her knees, looking at him with watery eyes. He lowered his gaze when he climbed up the last rungs, mostly to not let her witness him swallow. Seeing her cry didn't leave him as cold as he'd wished.

  She almost angrily wiped the tears from her face and took a deep breath. “You knew what she was planning,” she said reproachfully.

  “I did,” Severus replied after he'd sat down.

  “Why didn't you say anything?”

  “Why should I have done that?” he asked and arched an eyebrow. “You didn't warn her either when you tortured her with her husband's death.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Apart from that, I thought you were clever enough to understand it on your own.”

  Adia scrunched her nose and ran her fingers through her hair. Her face was splotchy from crying, she looked smaller than usual. “If she thinks that changes anything she's wrong,” she muttered. “Now I hate her even more.”

  Severus bent forwards and put his elbows on his knees. “Hatred,” he said slowly, “for Hermione? Why? She only shows you the life you want to have so desperately.”

  She jerked her head around frowning.

  “All of these memories, all of these emotions – they are part of Hermione's life. If you overpower her, if you destroy her, then her memories will become yours. She would coalesce with you exactly like you would with her.” He let his words sink in for a moment. “What Hermione did to you now is not revenge. Not only. It is a taste of what is to come when you succeed.”

  Now he saw her gulp and a few seconds later tears welled up in her eyes, tears she didn't want to cry in front of him. She averted her gaze until she'd regained her composure again. “After her weird potions, it won't be like this anymore.”

  “You will always carry the pain of losing husband and child. The potions don't change that.” Merlin, he wished they did.

  “But they make it bearable!” Adia insisted without looking at him.

  Severus took a deep breath. “Yes. If you know how to prepare the potions …”

  She smiled bitterly. “I will know when she's coalesced with me.”

  “You probably will.”

  “Why probably? You said her memories will be mine.”

  “That's right. But you always had access to Hermione's memories, you only missed the emotional aspect. Yet she prepared the potions for Lucius. And every conversation about potions made you yield the floor to Hermione.”

  She looked as if he'd rattled her momentarily. “You know how to prepare the potions,” she eventually said.

  “I'm not a healer, I'm a Potions Master, Adia. I could prepare the potions if I had the recipe, which I don't. But even if I had it - Hermione adjusted the ingredients when the original composition didn't do the trick. That's beyond my abilities.”

  “I don't believe you.”

  “It doesn't matter if you believe me or not. What makes you even think I would help you?”

  “You wouldn't let her die.”

  Severus smiled, barely visibly. “No, you will have done that by then.”

  She was quiet for three, four, five seconds. “So you wouldn't help me?”

  “No.”

  She swallowed again, scrunched her nose again, averted her gaze again. Hushed Hermione's pain with her pride. “That's all right, we've got other friends.”

  “Hermione has friends. Except for Nymphadora and Albus, nobody knows that you even exist. And nobody will accept you if they know that you destroyed Hermione.”

  Severus saw the vein on her neck pulse heavily. “Then I go back to the Death Eaters! Lucius will take me back if I explain everything!”

  Now Severus actually barked a laugh. “The Death Eaters won't exist anymore when Albus gets us out of here.” He saw her composure crumble, saw the colour draining from her face underneath the red splotches. “If you really go through with this then you are alone, Adia.” Severus knew that he'd struck a nerve when Adia sobbed. And he knew that it wasn't only a sore spot for Adia but especially one for Hermione. For the ruined survivor of the Golden Trio. Something inside of him started aching when he saw her losing her composure. Something took his breath away for a moment.

  “Fuck off!” Adia then cried through her tears. “Go away! Leave me alone!”

  Severus nodded and climbed the ladder back down. But after he'd let the hatch snap closed he cancelled the spell screening the sounds from above. After a few seconds, he heard Adia cry like Hermione had cried the night he'd held her. Severus grimaced and put the spell back in place. It got quiet. At least for him.

  “What do you want?” Adia asked without looking at him. She was lying on the mattress, her back turned to him.

  “I want to talk.” He rolled his eyes.

  “About?”

  “About whatever will move us forward.”

  That made her turn around to him. “You mean whatever moves me to let you kill me.”

  Severus didn't reply, he just looked at her. They'd been at this point often enough, he wouldn't go over it again. 

  Adia snorted when he only kept looking at her unwaveringly. She stared up at the pointy ceiling and ran her hands through her hair, closing her eyes. “Can I get a pain-relief potion?” she asked softly after a while.

  “What for?”

  “For my acid reflux!” she snapped and glared at him. “For this splitting headache, for what else?”

  He narrowed his eyes a fraction, then he stood and reached his hand through the barrier. “Come,” he said.

  Adia frowned. “Where to?”

  Severus tilted his head back and inhaled deeply. “No matter how much magic you try to collect, you won't be able to break these wards, Adia.”

  The muscles of her jaw bulged when she clenched her teeth. “I want to get out of here!”

  “Then why do you keep lying there instead of doing what I told you?” he asked silkily.

  “You'll only take me down to the barrier and lock me back up here afterwards!”

  “But previously you will get out,” he said laconically. “Well?” He stretched out his hand again ostentatiously. 

  For a few seconds, she returned his gaze stubbornly, then she lowered her eyes and rolled from the mattress. Reluctantly she put her hand into his and when she finally did, Severus finished the spell and drew her near. “If you try to attack me you will regret it!”

  “All right!” she said sullenly. But her eyes were still red.

  Severus climbed down the ladder in front of her and watched her follow him. Going down to the garden they didn't speak a single word. “Do you remember the incantation?” he eventually inquired when they were standing in front of the barrier.

  “Yes,” she said softly, put her hands against the resistance, and mumbled, “Nimia potentia magica relinquat!” Contrary to Hermione she clenched her teeth when the barrier started to glow where she touched it. She didn't let him see that it hurt. But she exhaled sharply when it stopped and stumbled back.

  Severus reached for her arm to stop her from falling. He'd thought she would wrestle herself free from him or at least glare at him but the gaze that hit him was nothing but tired and for a moment, he saw the hazel colour of Hermione's eyes shine through.

  “Please, don't lock me back up in the attic,” Adia said.

  He swallowed. “Will you try to attack me if I don't?”

  She snorted softly and finally pulled her arm from his grip, rubbing her forehead. “Even if I wanted to I couldn't. Hermione tortures me with her damn guilt, I can't deal with any more of it.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Sounds as if you suddenly grew morality and compassion,” he jabbed. “Feelings of guilt are a clear sign.”

  “In this case, feelings of guilt are a clear sign of bullshit!” she countered furiously. Then she met his gaze and barked a bitter laugh. “You are just like her, aren't you? I saw it in your Pensieve. Lily …”

  “Don't talk about Lily,” Severus interrupted her and curled his lip.

  Adia pursed hers. “Hermione's got no damn reason to feel guilty! Harry died because Dumbledore sacrificed him. Ron died because his squad was poorly organised. And Draco died because he didn't stick to the damn agreements! All of this guilt … it's bullshit! She could have saved none of them!” She clenched her fists and pressed them against her head. “I wish she would just stop!”

  Severus looked at her while her words whirled through his head like a bushfire. His heart pounded and he closed his eyes.

  “Why doesn't she stop it, Severus? She has to know that … She has to know it!”

  When he looked at her again tears were streaming down her face. “You don't have to go back to the attic,” he said, then he turned around and went inside.

Chapter Text

  Absolute silence greeted him on the terrace in the early morning. Severus closed his eyes when he stepped out of the house and took a few deep breaths. This darn house suffocated him. Making Adia drink the potion suffocated him. Worrying about Hermione … He exhaled deeply.

  He sat down and rubbed his itching eyes. He hadn't slept much last night; even though he wanted to trust Adia that she wouldn't attack him, a part of him had been prepared and vigilant, just in case. 

  After savouring a few minutes in silence, his head devoid of thoughts, he opened the diary and browsed through the pages until he found the first entry he hadn't read so far.

6^th of June 2001

I'm not making the slightest progress with the house-elves. I even stayed at Malfoy Manor last night. Draco agreed to stick with Adia's feigned affair. At dinner, she carried it a bit too far for my liking but I guess it served its purpose.
None of the elves was ready to help though. Draco called a few of those whose names he actually knows and let me try my luck. Since Draco's still able to give them orders (as long as they don't interfere with his father's that is) they won't tell anyone about it. But none of them agreed to take me down to the dungeons. None of them wants to disobey Malfoy senior.
All of this is making me nervous, sir. So much time has passed already. I've been looking for you for two months now. If Draco wasn't so sure that you're still alive I might have already surrendered. How much torture is one able to bear? I am …

  “Are you still reading that?”

  Severus flinched and raised his gaze while he let the book fall shut. “Obviously,” he drawled.

  Adia sat down on the other chair. Hermione's chair. A muscle beneath Severus's eye twitched. “How did you even find it?”

  “Summoning Charm.”

  “You knew she had it?”

  “I saw it in the memories you showed me.”

  Adia nodded slowly. “She hates that you're reading it.”

  He snorted. “I hate that she wrote in it.”

  “Really?”

  Severus stopped looking at her. No. To be honest, he was glad about it. “At least it fills some gaps.”

  “Which gaps?”

  “The Beltane feast for example.” He observed her reaction to his words and now she averted her gaze. “Why didn't you show me that memory when I was in Hermione's mind?”

  Adia shrugged her shoulders. “I didn't have much time, it wasn't that important.”

  Severus narrowed his eyes. He supposed her true motives were different. That she'd specifically hidden memories from him that made her appear in an unfavourable light. Not that he was surprised by it; in her stead, he would have done the same.

  “Since you now have a pretty complete picture of our last months … What do you think about filling some of our gaps?” Adia asked after a while.

  “Such as?”

  She looked at him and for the first time, he didn't see pride in her gaze, no yearning to outdo him, just genuine interest. “What did they do to you down in that dungeon?”

  Severus clenched his teeth. “Are you still looking for suggestions?”

  “Do I look like it?” she snapped and crossed her arms.

  “I don't know how you look. I don't know you.”

  She stared at him, lost for words. Then she said, “Aside from Hermione, you are the one who knows me best.”

  He huffed. “Then I will definitely not talk with you about what happened down there.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why should I?” he bit out. “You already know more than I would ever tell you voluntarily.” After all, she had tended to his wounds. All of his wounds.

  Adia regarded him pensively, her lips two thin white lines on her face. “Okay, listen. I'll take that potion. I'll let the both of you destroy me.”

  Severus arched his eyebrows. “Let me guess: When I answer your questions?”

  She raised her chin. “When you answer my questions.”

  He barked a mirthless laugh, shook his head, and rubbed his eyes. “What do you want from me, Adia? Why are you so obsessed with me?”

  She looked down at her hands. “You don't have a single clue how it is to be me.” She leaned forwards, combing her fingers through her hair, and intertwining them on the nape of her neck, her elbows supported on her knees, she went on, “I only exist because of you. Hermione had you in mind when she created me. Did you ever take a closer look at the variable ingredients? The sundew, the ebony, the dragon blood, in some way even the unicorn tears … All of it suits you as well as it suits me.” She looked at him and when she let her arms slump down he could see the vein on her neck pulsing heavily. “I'm obsessed with you because you are the foundation of my existence. I started fighting against Hermione because she kept me from getting to know you. I refuse to leave because I'm not done with you. You are my origin and my downfall, Severus Snape.”

  He held her gaze and for the first time in decades, it was a hard thing to do for him. “What do you mean, you're not done with me?”

  She huffed softly. “I don't know. But I … can't go just yet.”

  Severus tilted his head back and pursed his lips. He didn't have a problem giving his magic so Hermione would live. He wouldn't even have a problem giving his life for hers. But this? It was as if something had tried to see how far he was willing to go – and now it had found his limit.

  Without saying a word he stood and went back into the house.

  “What guarantee do I have that you will really take the potion?”

  Adia looked up from her book. She was sitting on the settee, her legs pulled onto the padding, her head supported in her hand. “Nothing,” she replied. “You only have my word.”

  Severus snorted. He was standing in the door frame, his arms crossed. “That isn't worth much.”

  “Probably.” She snapped the book shut. “But probably its worth rises when I tell you that I could have got rid of Hermione long ago if I had wanted to. Showing me all of her memories in a continuous loop cost her a lot of strength. I hardly sense her anymore.”

  He practically felt the colour draining from his face; his head swam for a moment. “Get her to the front,” he said.

  “No.” She put the book aside and her naked feet on the floor. “I will take this potion but first, we talk.” She caught his gaze and hers was so full of determination that he involuntarily scrunched his nose.

  Severus forced his legs to cross the room. Today, he sat down in the armchair Hermione normally occupied. He narrowed his eyes a fraction while he observed Adia. She was more confident since she'd told him her price. Perhaps he should have locked her up in the attic after all. He didn't like the position she had pushed him in. But Hermione … 

  “Why are you suddenly willing to take the potion?”

  Adia huffed, smiling. She drew her long brown hair onto her back. “Hermione forces me to feel. She forces me to acknowledge her pain. For a while, I have been she, although only due to reliving her memories. You were right. I'm not a real human. I wasn't born but created. I'm a magical tool that is able to talk. I have a purpose. And I served it. I'm not made to sense the whole spectrum of human emotions. I'm not even sure if I would be able to endure it for longer periods of time. Perhaps it would kill me quickly.”

  Severus cocked an eyebrow. “For now it seems to make you a damn philosopher.”

  “It does, right?” She wrinkled her nose, then she slumped back. “But I don't feel as altruistic as it seems. I still want to live. I could still smash everything to pieces because you want to destroy me. But Hermione showed me that I can't have this life. The headache wasn't just because of the excess magic. It is gone since Hermione stopped making me feel her emotions. Obviously, I'm not strong enough for true humanity.” She looked down at her hands. “And I'm not tool enough anymore to be completely inhumane. Her sodden guilt stops me from taking her to death with me.” At this point, she crossed her arms as well. “May she just go on with her miserable life then …”

  Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. Finally, the Adia he'd dealt with in the last few days was peeking through again. “So I am to trust this little piece of humanity that Hermione's implanted within you?”

  “Either that or we just wait until Hermione perishes on her own and her legacy kills me. This little piece of humanity doesn't have a problem with that.” She shrugged.

  Severus ground his teeth when he dropped his gaze and listened to the thumping of his heart vibrating through his body. She had a hold on him. He either did what she demanded or she would let Hermione die. When he looked back at her he took care to put all the contempt he felt for her in his eyes. “Very well,” he snarled. “Begin!”

  Adia barked a laugh. “Wait a minute. Since you talked about guarantees: How can I be sure that you will tell me the truth?”

  A smirk curled his lips. “You can't. You want to get to know me? Well, it is a part of my personality that nobody ever really knows whether I lie or tell the truth.”

  “Touché,” Adia said softly.

  “So?”

  She crossed her legs and made herself comfortable on the settee. “You know my first question: What did they do to you down in the dungeon?”

  Severus ground his teeth until his jaw hurt. His temples started to thump. Eventually, he rubbed his forehead and said, “Lucius burned the Dark Mark from my arm and showed me false memories. Walden whipped me. Bella and Rookwood blessed me with the Cruciatus. Avery had fun suffocating me. Mulciber preferred the fist.”

  She looked at him seemingly unaffected when she asked, “What else?”

  He pursed his lips, curling his lip. He clenched his fists so hard that even his short nails dug into his palms. Right now he would have loved nothing better than to test a thing or two of Avery's repertoire on her. “Bella and Lucius raped me,” he admitted in a raspy voice.

  Adia nodded slowly. “What did Draco do when he was with you?”

  “He prevented my death.”

  “Did the charm ever save your life?”

  “Yes,” he growled.

  “How often?”

  Severus snorted and shook his head. “I don't know, Adia.”

  “That often?”

  “Yes.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Who?”

  “What do you mean, who?” he inquired impatiently.

  “Who tortured you so badly that Draco's charm needed to save your life?”

  Once more he ground his teeth. Hard. “What exactly is the point of this, Adia? Do you get some kind of … voyeuristic pleasure out of asking me these things? Do you envision it in your mind's eye and have your fun?”

  “That's irrelevant,” she said. “I ask the questions, you answer.”

  He glared at her, remembering the moment Hermione had told him he wouldn't have to talk to anyone about the things the Death Eaters did to him if he took her potions. An obscenely distorted laugh escaped from his mouth. He stopped it by covering it with his hand. “Walden, Avery, Mulciber,” he finally listed without looking at her.

  “And what did Draco do to you?”

  He gulped. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

  She tilted her head and said, “He told me that he vomited in the hallway as soon as he was done with you. For him, it obviously was worth mentioning.”

  Severus raised his eyebrows. “He burned a mark into my skin for that charm. The stench alone would have been enough to make him sick.”

  “But that had not been the reason,” she insisted stubbornly.

  “If you already know why do you even ask?” he growled barely contained.

  “Irrelevant. Answer my question, Severus.”

  He glared at her. Then he jumped to his feet and paced through the parlour. His body hummed from anger. But at long last, he stopped, his back turned to her, and still closed his eyes before he said, “He wanted to torture me with the Cruciatus … but he wasn't able to do it.” Against his will, Draco's face rose in front of his mind's eyes. How he'd tried to cast the Cruciatus – and failed because torturing didn't come naturally enough to him to want it sufficiently. How for a desperate moment he'd thought he would have to torture him with his bare hands because the Cruciatus had been the only torture curse he'd known.

  “What did you do then?” Adia's voice cut through his thoughts.

  Severus cleared his throat. “I taught him the curse Walden has always used,” he said barely audible. That day, Draco had suffered more than he himself.

  He turned around to Adia. “Are you quite finished with your little quiz now?”

  “For now,” she mumbled, rose to her feet and left the parlour.

  Severus returned to the armchair, his knees weak, and hid his face behind his hands.

  He didn't see Adia again that day. Apparently, she was as talented in avoiding him as vice versa.

  Briefly, he pondered working on the potion. But the next step of his plan was counterbalancing the unicorn tears and a part of him still refused to face Adia without his magic. Aside from the tears, only Hermione's blood was missing and since Adia wouldn't get her to the front until Severus had answered enough of her questions he was at a dead end with the potion right now.

  He sat down in his room and tried not to think about the threat of her 'for now' by returning to the diary once more. He quickly found the passage Adia had interrupted him at.

How much torture is one able to bear? I am so sorry that I disappoint you. When I'm at Malfoy Manor, knowing that you are trapped less than four metres underneath me, I want to threaten Malfoy with my wand at his neck to give me that damn Portkey. Or I want to break into his office and search for it myself. But I would survive neither the first nor the second option for long – and if I would we wouldn't get out of there together. I even asked Dumbledore if the Order could attack Malfoy Manor to distract all of them for long enough so that I could look for the Portkey. But obviously, the Order is inferior to the Death Eaters, Malfoy would counter such an attack with ease. I wouldn't have enough time and the losses would be disastrous. Dumbledore says it is more important to win the war than a single battle. I'm starting to think he really doesn't care for you that much.
Please hang on, sir! I'm looking for a way! I will find a way!

…  knowing that you are trapped less than four metres underneath me … 

  For a moment, this half-sentence overwhelmed Severus so much that he squinted his eyes shut. How often had Hermione been just a few metres above him without knowing that he was there? And how often after she got to know it? What had Walden or Bella or Augustus done to him while Hermione had been so close?

  He shook his head, blinked, and turned the page.

12^th of June 2001

Dobby!
I thought he would be the last desperate straw before I'd have to allow Adia to beg Lucius to visit you. He left Malfoy Manor nine years ago, I didn't believe that he could tell me something helpful. As the Malfoys are treating their house-elves I didn't think there even was anything helpful.
But he said there was another elf back in his days who rebelled against the Malfoys. He did it in the most precious passive-aggressive way I've ever heard of. He shifted the furniture so Malfoy would bump into it if he didn't pay attention. He put a little white down feather on Malfoy's desk every single morning, driving him up the wall! Then he took a black one once and stopped entirely. Malfoy had been furious! The other elves have been in mortal fear but he didn't even think of the elves being behind it. The elf switched the pictures on the walls, confusing Malfoy so much that he started getting lost in his own house. Honestly, sir, I love this elf! I hope he's still there.
I'm really reluctant to blackmail him with this knowledge but as hostile as he may be towards the Malfoys, he will never bring me down to the dungeons voluntarily.

  Severus caught himself smiling. He could clearly envision Hermione writing this entry. Despite all the cruelties she'd faced up to that point, despite Adia, despite all her crumbling friendships, Weasley's death, the pregnancy she hadn't told anyone about – this house-elf had managed to amuse her for a little moment and stirred up some hope.

  For that fact alone, he liked that elf as well.

19^th of June 2001

Once again so much time has passed. There were no meetings, Malfoy grew wary because Adia had forced herself upon him so much, and Draco's away with an order from his father. I didn't find a way to get into Malfoy Manor without raising suspicion. Only yesterday it came off.
The day after tomorrow, Skorcher will take Adia down to the dungeons. Malfoy will be away, otherwise, he refused. The day after tomorrow, sir. Hang on!

  The further Severus read through the diary the more he became aware of how close to the surface Hermione must have carried Adia. At this point in her memories, she'd been so cold and irascible, it had been a shock to see. But these entries were everything but cold. Nothing within them indicated that her opinion of him had changed since they'd worked on the potions to vanquish the Dark Lord. 

  But of course, she hadn't lost her child at this point. 

  Still, when Adia cross-questioned him the next time he would suss her out a bit. Had it really been Hermione who would have liked nothing better than to jinx him to the afterlife and back during their first days here in this house – or had it been Adia? And if it had been Adia, why? If she'd wanted to get to know him so desperately why had she been so angry?

23^rd of June 2001

You are gone, sir. Malfoy caught Adia. Draco is dead. Everything went so horribly wrong.
I don't remember much of that evening. Adia has been very strong, she excluded me from a lot. But we're still alive so I guess she did it right. She's convinced that you are still alive as well. Malfoy got you taken away but he didn't say where he brought you. But he told me who knows it. Macnair. Of all people. Adia wants to beguile him. He already flirted with her once, he's definitely interested. And even though my stomach turns just thinking about it I have to admit she's right. Macnair is the best chance we have.
Since I assume that we will get to your new whereabouts in a magical way as well I put a trace on a little stone. Adia can simply drop it when Macnair hopefully takes her to where you are and I can locate it afterwards. I genuinely hope it is not yet again a place only accessible via Portkey.

  So Hermione hadn't known that Adia had betrayed Draco. She probably got to know it only a few days ago when he found out as well. And probably that was the reason why she'd started to harrow Adia with her memories. Hermione's morality was so damn perfect that she wouldn't even betray somebody she'd detested since their first encounter for her own survival. He could imagine through what hell she'd forced Adia. Severus snorted softly.

30^th of June 2001

Macnair is so disgusting!
I'm just coming from the shower. I don't know for how long I've been in there, my skin is on the brink of peeling. And still, I'm feeling dirty.
I could stop Adia from carrying it to the limit. I think I would throw up if she would really sleep with him. But she kissed him and he had his hands underneath her shirt. I cringe so much.
Why can't she exclude me from these things?
At least it comes to fruition. Macnair is putty in her hands. Adia lures him to you bit by bit, she tempts him to show her something special and hints that he can have her completely afterwards. Which will not happen!
Never!

  Severus rubbed his eyes. He hadn't thought much about killing Walden on their flight. He had been completely indifferent to it all the time; without Draco's charm, Walden would have killed him multiple times, it simply felt justified. At least one moment of triumph after all the time he had to be on the receiving end. 

  Now he was even more at peace with what he'd done. Yes, he was a murderer. But he had a clear conscious about it. He would even say it hadn't harmed his soul to free the world from this bastard.

  The last entry was one of the shortest Hermione had written in this book. He had already finished reading it before he even made a conscious decision.

7^th of July 2001

Tomorrow I will get you out. The Order will attack Malfoy Manor and hopefully cover my back for long enough. And then I'll get you out, sir.

Chapter Text

  The next morning, Severus rapped at Hermione's door. “What do you want?” Adia asked, peeking through a tiny crack.

  “I want to continue.”

  She frowned. “Do you have a sudden itch to answer questions?”

  “No, I have an itch to get rid of you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Wait … downstairs. I'll be right there.” And the door slammed shut again.

  “Do you know the feeling that your life is about to end and you just want to do and experience as much … significant stuff as possible in the short time you've got left?”

  Severus looked up at Adia, who was stepping onto the terrace with two tumblers of firewhisky in her hands. She handed him one of them and sat down. “Did you spike it?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

  She sighed, then she took his tumbler and gave him hers. “Better?”

  Severus arched an eyebrow. “Did you spike this one because you knew I would ask?”

  She gritted her teeth, taking a deep breath. Then she first emptied her glass in one gulp before she took his and repeated the act. “Since we clarified this now could we return to my question?”

  He watched her putting the empty tumblers on the ground. “So much alcohol that early in the morning?”

  “Fuck you, Severus,” Adia said. 

  He snorted and, closing his eyes, leaned back. The air was still cool on the terrace with the sun standing on the other side of the house. They were bathed in chilly shadows. And her gaze he practically felt lingering on him wasn't exactly warm either. He contemplated her question. Did he know the feeling she'd asked him about? “Yes,” he finally said.

  “Yes, what?” she snapped.

  He looked at her. “Yes, I know that feeling.”

  Her expression softened a little. “So, did you do or experience anything of significance?”

  He knitted his brows and was silent for a long time again because … What could he say in response to that question? Since he'd returned to the Death Eater six years ago the possibility of his death had been a constant companion. There had not been a single day he'd woken up in the morning and been certain that he would live to see its end. Had he done or experienced anything of significance during that time? Certainly. Had it been significant in the way Adia meant? Hardly.

  “Severus?”

  He turned to her once more. “Yes, I did.”

  She opened her mouth to inquire further but even as she did she seemed to realise that he wouldn't tell her anything more about it. To his surprise, she accepted it and swallowed her question. 

  “Why have you been so angry with me?” Severus then chose to use her silence for his own purpose. 

  She gazed at him, her eyebrows arched. “You have to give me more details.”

  He huffed. “In the beginning, Adia. When I didn't even know anything about your existence.”

  “Oh, that …” She put her chin in her hand. “I wasn't angry with you. I was angry with Hermione. She was pushing me to the front most of the time and still kept me from exposing myself to you. I knew she'd hate it if I mess with you.”

  “Why did she want to hide you from me?” In the diary, Hermione had said that she trusted him to help her find a way to get along with Adia. How was he supposed to help if he didn't even know she existed?

  “I don't know. You will have to ask her yourself after I -” She broke off and pursed her lips. “Are you finally finished with the diary?” she then changed the topic.

  “Yes.”

  “Well? Any groundbreaking realisations?”

  “None you'd be able to understand,” Severus countered and laced his fingers. 

  Her expression hardened. “Take your chance!”

  He sighed. “So is that one of your questions?”

  “Yes. Since you refuse to have a simple and respectful conversation with me …”

  “Earnest …” He scoffed. “There isn't much respect between you and me, Adia.”

  “I know. I'm trying to change that.”

  “To what end?”

  She looked at him and there was so much frustration in her eyes that he almost regretted his question. “What made Hermione ever think that you would be worth sacrificing so much for?” she asked, her voice trembling. 

  Severus snorted and ran a hand across his mouth. “That will be one of the first questions I will ask her when I see her the next time.”

  She stood and went a few steps into the garden. Then she turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. “You are such an aloof, frustrating man, Severus. Closed up to the utmost, bitter, grumpy. And yet … Yet Hermione was hell-bent on freeing you. Yet she had this unwavering faith that you would be worth it. Even when she was confronted with the possibility that you may have raped women at Lucius's feasts she was still convinced that it never happened. I always wondered where this faith came from because I never found anything in her memories explaining it. Do you know why she trusts you so much?”

  He bent forward and put his elbows on his knees, his heart thumping wildly. “I don't have a single clue, Adia.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “If you ask me she's stupid to trust you. I don't find a single good reason for it. And I'm really trying! I'm trying to find out whether it was right to help you or whether I wasted this joke of a life to save a cold-hearted bastard.”

  Severus rose and straightened his posture. “Tell me when you figure it out,” he sneered. Then he turned around and went inside.

  Was she right? Had Adia wasted her short life to save a cold-hearted bastard?

  Yes!, Severus thought bitterly. Apparently, she had. There was no good reason why Hermione had done all of this to save him. He wasn't worth sacrificing so much for. He wasn't worth her trust.

  Why the hell did she do it anyway?

  He drew his spread fingers through his hair. His pulse was racing and he was too unsettled to sit down. Instead, he paced through his poky room, too small, too claustrophobic. Merlin, he missed Hogwarts and its extensive hallways. He missed being able to soothe his inner turmoil with patrolling. He'd walked the hallways of that school for hours and hours on end because he'd been unable to sit or even lie down. Sometimes he just needed to move and this house couldn't offer him the space he craved.

  Damn Adia!

  At long last, he stopped, his hands clasped in his neck, and gazed through the window to the anterior side of the dimension barrier. The blue sky blurred into the green hills surrounding the house. He was so sick of the permanent sunshine. Sick of this house. Sick of being alive.

  And he was sick of feeling bad because of the decisions Hermione had made. No, he wasn't worth it but nobody had asked him, for fuck's sake! Albus had started a rescue mission without his consent, Draco had kept him alive without his consent, Hermione had created this lunatic without his consent! Nothing of it had been his – bloody – decision! 

  And wasn't he already doing everything in his power to make amends?

  Severus stormed down the stairs before he knew what he was doing. Adia was in the kitchen, staring out of the window. She looked at him wide-eyed when he stopped right in front of her.

  “Yes, maybe you wasted your joke of a life to save a cold-hearted bastard. But this cold-hearted bastard never asked for it!” he hissed. “Nobody asked me if I even wanted all of this! I'm doing what I can to make amends. I answer your damn questions. I brew this damn potion. I sacrifice -” He stopped and twisted his mouth. “Hermione shouldn't trust me, nobody should trust me. But I'm doing what I can.”

  She looked at him, totally lost for words. Then she nodded.

  Severus raised his chin and turned to leave. When he was already at the door she called his name. He looked at her, his eyebrows raised.

  “It was not a waste to save you.” When she said it the colour of her eyes flickered and for a brief moment.

  Seeing it made him gulp. Then he dropped his gaze and left. Fled into the garden because he wouldn't get more freedom in this damn house.

  The knife slid through the ginger almost without resistance when he cut it into fine slices. Next to him, a cauldron dangled over a fire and bubbled subtly; he had about ten minutes left to finish preparing the ginger and adding it to the potion. 

  Severus was breathing easily, his mind focussed on his work, no other thought crossing his mind but this Strengthening Solution. He just had to refrain from turning around to the other cauldron. The cauldron in which the basis of the reversing potion, protected with a stasis charm, waited for him to complete it.

  His grip around the knife's handle tightened momentarily until he'd dragged his mind back to the Strengthening Solution. Back to the ginger.

  This house drove him crazy. He actually regretted that he wasn't able to talk with Albus anymore. With Albus! There had been a time when he'd hidden in Filch's office to not be obliged to talk with him!

  It had to be this house. 

  Or Adia. 

  He wrinkled his nose when his thoughts went wandering once again. He hadn't been that undisciplined since his youth. Severus paused and closed his eyes.

  Hermione was running out of time and instead of dealing with Adia in whichever way she liked, he was standing here, brewing a sodding Strengthening Solution, although he didn't even know whether Hermione would survive long enough to even take it. 

  Severus blinked – and flinched when he spotted Adia standing on the other side of the workbench. “Where did you spring up from?” he sneered. 

  “From upstairs,” she dead-panned, drew the stool from under the table and sat down. Her gaze roved across the ingredients, tools and the cauldron in front of him. “What is it that you two enjoy so much about brewing potions?”

  Severus arched his eyebrow. “I don't think Hermione has got enough time left to make you understand.”

  She huffed. “I doubt even a whole life would be enough to make me understand.” He lowered his gaze, tending to the ginger again. “I sense Hermione's passion for it, I know her memories of classes with you and the time after she graduated, I even hear the little speech you gave in her very first class and I still don't get it.”

  “Potter and you, you would have got along nicely,” Severus mumbled. 

  “Yes, quite possible. I like him as far as I can tell from Hermione's memories.” She put her head in her hand and watched him.

  Severus started cutting the ginger slices into fine stripes. He had five minutes left until he had to add them to the potion. He cast a glance into the cauldron. The colour change was going on perfectly. 

  “Does it make you nervous? Me watching you …” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  He looked at her. “I worked as a teacher for sixteen years. I'm used to dunderheads watching me work.”

  “Thank you,” she said sweetly.

  Severus shrugged.

  “At least tell me you weren't born with it and had to train hard to become this indifferent.”

  He missed a beat, remembering his father using every single one of his mistakes as an opportunity to scold him. James and Sirius trying to unsettle him on all occasions so he would make a mistake. The Dark Lord lying in wait for every little twitch of his emotions to maybe rinse a treacherous memory through his mind. “I learned it quickly,” he eventually said.

  “I guess it takes a lot to break through your reserve?”

  Once again, he cast her a glance. “Yes.” Then he started mincing the ginger stripes into even smaller pieces until he was left with barely more than a paste.

  Adia hummed softly.

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  She shook her head slightly. “I'm thinking about how you almost strangled me.”

  He raised his brows but didn't say anything. It would be pointless claiming she'd not broken through his reserve in that instance. 

  “How do you feel about Hermione?”

  Severus frowned. “What's that got to do with it?”

  “No counter-questions.”

  He regarded her suspiciously, then he took the board with the minced ginger and scraped it into the cauldron with the back of his knife. The former purple potion turned into a soft rose. Severus extinguished the fire and left the potion to cool down before he returned to Adia, his arms crossed. “I feel grateful for what she did for me and I want to pay her back for it.”

  “Obviously,” she said and tilted her head. “What else?”

  “Nothing,” he replied indifferently.

  Adia clicked her tongue. “That can't be true, Severus. There is a memory of you calling Hermione an insufferable know-it-all although she only answered your question. That is hardly nothing. If you really want to lie to me then at least do it properly.”

  “That was a long time ago,” he said and rolled his eyes.

  “Exactly. You couldn't stand her back then. That never turns to nothing. So, what became of it? Can you still not stand her? Do you hate her? Or do you like her by now?”

  He pursed his lips while he tried to silence her with his eyes alone. But she held his gaze belligerently. This woman definitely didn't know what was good for her. “Why do you want to know?” he asked very softly.

  Adia smiled. “I said no counter-questions but I'll answer this one: I can't have this life but I can leave it with as much chaos as humanly possible. And if you're right and I'll coalesce with Hermione then I maybe even will be able to see you two trying to come to terms with all of that chaos. Here. Locked up in this house until Dumbledore decides the war is over.”

  He stared at her blankly. Chaos. Yes, she was a natural at that. There was hardly anything but chaos inside him already and he wasn't keen to increase it any further. But did he have a choice? Was there any other way than playing along with her sick games? He saw none. She had to take the potion voluntarily and she had to do it soon. She would die one way or the other and she wasn't interested in Hermione surviving. He wanted more from her than she from him. 

  Severus grabbed the knife he'd been just using and the board and turned to the sink. There really was only one way, straight into the chaos.

  “Well, Severus, how do you feel about Hermione these days?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do you want to hear? Am I to confess my love for Hermione?”

  “Do you love her?”

  “No!” he said and cast her a wild glance.

  She hummed again and he had a hard time stopping himself from putting his hands back on her narrow neck and squeezing a little bit longer than the other day. “I don't believe you and I am so curious whether Hermione will be influenced by it later or not. What a pity I don't know if I will catch on to it.”

  “It won't influence Hermione, I will see to it.”

  “How do you want to do that? Do you want to erase her memory … my memory?”

  “Perhaps.”

  She leaned across the table and traced her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. “Do you really think your feelings will change when Hermione doesn't remember us talking about it?” she whispered. 

  Severus leaned forward as well. “I don't have feelings for Hermione,” he said slowly.

  She laughed softly and rose. “Oh, Severus … I knew you lie to others but to yourself?” And then she left. 

  Severus clenched his fists, his gaze glued to her back.

  The half-moon was raised high above them, a blurred crescent in the black sky due to the dimension barrier. Severus glared at it. He hated being here. He hated dealing with Adia. And he would have equally hated letting someone else do it because he couldn't forgive anybody for screwing it up. 

  His eyes itched with tiredness, it was well past midnight. But his mind was too unsettled to sleep. He'd thought about taking a sleeping potion but he didn't want to. He didn't even have a sensible reason for it, only that he preferred a night without sleep over a potion right now. The house drove him crazy. 

  When Adia approached him Severus rubbed his forehead and groaned softly. “I'm not in the mood for your little mind games, Adia.”

  She sat down nonetheless. “That is unfortunate. Especially for Hermione. She's running out of time.”

  Adrenaline rushed through his body. He looked at her tight-lipped. “Then get her to the front so I can give her a Strengthening Solution!”

  “Yeah, in a moment,” she replied off-handedly. “There is something I want to talk about with you first.”

  Severus took a deep breath, reminding himself to keep calm. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “The Beltane feast.”

  “Excuse me?” He jerked his head around. The moonlight covered her face with a soft glow. “What is so important about this damn feast that you have to risk Hermione's life for it?”

  “It's not that bad, Severus.” She leaned back and crossed her legs. “I'll take care of her.”

  He scoffed and folded his arms over his chest.

  “So, this feast …”

  “What about it?” he growled.

  “Did you ever participate?”

  “What do you mean by participate?” he asked pointedly.

  “Have you been there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you have sex?”

  He looked at her once more, his eyes narrowed. That was none of her bloody business! “No.”

  She exhaled sharply. “Why not?”

  “Is this a serious question?”

  “Yes.”

  Severus wasn't able to see her very clearly in the sparse light of the moon but it was enough to scrutinise her face carefully. He found no traces of mockery or malice in it. She seemed genuinely interested. “I did not want to,” he finally said.

  “Because you weren't in the mood or because it felt wrong?”

  Once again, he took a deep breath. Was he really discussing sexual morality with a woman who enjoyed leaving his and Hermione's life as chaotic as possible? He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I sincerely hope I don't have to explain to you why it is wrong to have sex with people under the Imperius Curse,” he said, his eyes closed. 

  “No, I understand that.”

  “Thank Merlin …”

  She ignored his remark. “But what is wrong about having sex with the others there?”

  “I didn't have sex with the other Death Eaters because I had to fulfil a task.” And because that sounded like he would have liked to … participate had the circumstances been different he added, “And because none of them tempted me. They are mad, all of them.”

  She hummed quietly, obviously displeased.

  He looked at her. “Does that answer your question?”

  “No,” she mumbled.

  He nodded and couldn't believe it when he said the following sentence, “Maybe that is due to the fact that you are asking the wrong question.” At that, she cast him a glance. “You want to know why Hermione forbade you to have sex there.”

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  He should have kept his mouth shut. How should he make her understand that? If she didn't understand on her own how could he explain? Why did she have to ask him this question? Couldn't she just … write Hermione a letter or something like that?

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

  “I'm trying to find a way to make someone with such little morality as you understand what it means to be Hermione Granger.”

  “I know what it means to be her!” Adia hissed. “She forced me to feel like her!”

  Now he clicked his tongue. “She obviously forgot to show you that.”

  “Not really,” she admitted. “But there was only denial regarding this topic. I don't get it.” Adia bobbed her foot. “She created me as someone who is able to effortlessly seduce men and twist them around my little finger. A femme fatale. But then I am not allowed to have sex with them? Not even when it would have been of help? That makes no sense.”

  He rubbed his tired eyes. If he had just taken a sleeping potion … “Most of the time, it is enough to own a weapon and know how to use it, Adia. You don't have to necessarily fire it just because you can.”

  “But why not?”

  “Because it is wrong!” he shouted out. “They were Death Eaters! They were scum who despised people like Hermione! And she'd just lost her husband three damn days prior to it!”

  “I know that!” Adia countered in the same tone of voice. “But she wasn't supposed to have sex there! I wanted sex!”

  “That makes no difference to Hermione! You are a part of her. What you are doing, she is doing as well. And she didn't want sex with a fucking Death Eater! Especially not with Macnair!”

  Adia huffed in annoyance and crossed her arms. “Fine, not with Macnair then,” she grunted. “But how about you?”

Chapter Text

  His voice was barely more than a hiss when he - once more - said, “Excuse me?” He didn't say it because he didn't understand her; he said it to give her a chance to change her last words.

  But she changed none of them. “I want to have sex with you.”

  He ground his teeth. “Absolutely not.”

  Adia swallowed; at least she didn't seem as indifferent anymore as she used to be. “Well, that is very unfortunate for Hermione.”

  Severus rose impetuously and propped himself up onto the armrests of her chair, getting very close to her face. His pulse was thumping in his ears when he said, “You will not force me to have intercourse with you by threatening Hermione, Adia!”

  The crease between her eyebrows deepened. “Yes, Severus, I will. You either have sex with me or you will watch her die. I'm curious how you will decide.”

  Before he got the chance to reply her face began to change and barely five seconds later Hermione was sitting in front of him. Severus flinched back as if he'd been burnt by the sight of her. 

  She was panting, her hands shaking, her face pallid. “You … will not … have sex with her!” she uttered haltingly right before her eyes rolled back and she fell unconscious. 

  Rage seethed in him, so viciously that Severus released it in a short cry. He clenched his fists, then loosened them, again and again, taking deep breaths until he was able to force back the rage to where it'd come from. He ran his hand across his face, then slipped his wand from his sleeve and muttered, “Mobilicorpus!” Hermione's unconscious body floated up from the chair and he directed her into the parlour and laid her down on the settee before he illuminated the room. She looked even worse than he'd anticipated. He could see her pulse flutter on her neck, a thin layer of sweat covering her face.

  Severus tore himself from her sight and went down to the lab. The vials of Strengthening Solution were still standing on the lab table to cool down, he didn't get round to storing them away yet. He fetched one of them and went back upstairs. 

  “Hermione,” he said and shook her shoulder. Actually, he didn't think he would be able to wake her that way but before he used magic he wanted to give it a try. She didn't move. So he pointed his wand at her. “Rennervate!”

  She startled awake and gasped for air as if she'd been under water for minutes. Her eyes were as wide as saucers and Severus put a hand on her back to keep her from slumping down again. He helped her into a sitting position and when her eyes had cleared up enough to recognise him she slapped his hand away.

  Severus curled his lips, kneeled down and unstoppered the vial. “Drink,” he growled.

  Hermione glared at him, panting, before she took the little glass flask with a trembling hand and emptied it. She closed her eyes while the potion was taking effect. Her pulse slowed down a bit, a hint of colour returned to her cheeks. “You will not have sex with her,” was the first thing she said.

  “No,” Severus countered dully and stopped looking at her. His face was burning.

  “Never!” she reiterated.

  He caught her gaze. “Never,” he said seriously. Then he stood and crossed his arms. “I need some blood from you.”

  Obviously, this had been an inconvenient moment to ask for it. But he wanted it off the table before Adia got the chance to interfere. Her eyes, though, barely drained from her horror, widened once more. “What for?”

  “For a blood sacrifice of darkest magic,” he dead-panned and rolled his eyes. “For the reversing potion! What else?”

  Hermione swallowed. “Right.” She wanted to get up but her legs didn't support her and so she sank back onto the settee. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, then she tried again and only made it because Severus grabbed her arm and stabilised her. This time, she looked as if she had been burnt. Her gaze set his teeth on edge. But she allowed him to hold her. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

  Severus nodded curtly and led her into the lab. He sat her down on the stool and fetched the blood sampling set he'd ordered from Albus for this purpose.

  “What? I don't have to dramatically cut my palm?” Hermione asked tiredly and put her head in her hand.

  Severus cocked an eyebrow. “Would you prefer it that way?”

  “No.” A hint of an excuse warmed her eyes.

  He focussed on taking the blood sample and tried to calm his mind for a precious minute or two. It was equally odd and wonderful that Hermione was sitting in front of him, not Adia. The last days had been tedious and even though he would have denied it to anyone (especially Adia): He'd missed Hermione.

  After he'd healed the little puncture on her arm with a drop of Dittany and placed a stasis charm on her blood sample he'd met her gaze again. “Why did you do all of this, Hermione?”

  She gulped. “All of what?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Adia, first and foremost.”

  She looked down at her still trembling hands. “I-I only got the first doubts after Ron had died. And it would have all been pointless if I'd stopped then.”

  He pursed his lips to not ask the question hovering on the tip of his tongue. What on earth had made her risk her child? For him? What had been the point of that? But it would have been unfair to ask her that question, wouldn't it? It wasn't as if she'd made the decision consciously. On the contrary: She'd refused to make it until someone else had made it for her instead. 

  Just like him. 

  He'd also refused to decide against his Death Eater friends until he'd become one of them.

  He looked away. “Thank you for fighting Adia with your memories.” That had been a turning point he probably wouldn't have reached without Hermione's help.

  She huffed. “I should have done it much earlier. She betrayed Draco in a heartbeat. I cannot let someone like her go on living.”

  Once more, he swallowed the words tickling on the tip of his tongue. He ran his hand across his mouth. “You should get some sleep and gather your strength.”

  “Yes.” She rose and supported herself on the table. “Do you need any more help from me with the reversing potion?”

  Severus eyed her skeptically. Actually, he did. He'd planned for her to finish the preparation of the potion with the charm. But as she was standing before him right now she wouldn't be able to do it. Adia would have to take over. “No,” he said. And before they left the lab, Severus snatched a second vial of the Strengthening Solution.

  Climbing up the stairs proved to be such an exhausting task for Hermione that he briefly considered using the Mobilicorpus again. But she made it and he put the vial on her nightstand. “Take it tomorrow when you wake up,” he said, then he turned around and left her room.

  He locked his door, opened the window and stuck his head out. Something strangled him, he felt nauseous. Adia would never change her demand. Now that Hermione had refused it so vehemently the chances were even worse than before. She would hardly be able to cause more chaos. 

  Severus snorted and went to his bed. And as if his knees had only waited for his approval they gave way.

  Even after taking the second Strengthening Solution the next morning Hermione still looked exhausted and worn out. Severus frowned as he watched her fumbling her way along the kitchen counter and slumping onto the bench opposite of him. “Good morning,” he said. 

  “Morning,” she mumbled and put her head in her hand. Her gaze rested on his cup of coffee for so long that Severus finally rose to pour her some as well. “Thanks,” she said when he put the cup down in front of her.

  He sat back down and returned to the journal Albus had sent. The Potio was the only professional journal on the topic of potions meeting his requirements of professionalism and suspicion concerning new techniques. After everything he had to concern himself with during the last weeks, it had been a pleasant surprise to find it in the pantry.

  “I'm sorry I wrote into your diary.”

  Severus blinked. For a moment he contemplated answering her as curtly as possible to keep this conversation as short as possible. He hadn't slept much, his mood was abysmal. But one glance at her sallow face caused him to abandon this sentiment. She hadn't talked to anyone for days and he should use the opportunity to talk with her instead of Adia. So he shut the journal and leaned back. “I hope you don't expect me to apologise for reading it.”

  She lowered her gaze. “No. It is your diary.”

  He nodded and folded his arms over his chest. “Why did you stop writing in it?”

  Hermione regarded him with a lopsided, inherently fake smile. “What was I supposed to write in it after we got here? How much I messed everything up? The only worse way to end my mission would have been you dying on the run.” He thought he saw tears glistening in her eyes but she looked away so quickly that he wasn't sure about it. “Besides, I tried to experience as little conscious time as possible. I forced Adia to the front a lot and she's not the type to keep a diary.”

  “I noticed,” he replied. He clenched his teeth, then he said, “You have not disappointed me, by the way.”

  She frowned but then she seemed to remember that she'd written something along those lines into the diary. A soft blush rose to her cheeks. She smiled and this time, it was genuine.

  Hermione took a piece of parchment from her pocket. “I know it is a lot to ask but … if you find enough time would you care to already prepare the therapy potions? If Adia really lets herself be talked into taking the reversing potion I'd like to start with them as soon as possible.” She slid the folded parchment across the table and rubbed her forehead while she pursed her lips. 

  A muscle beneath Severus's eye twitched watching her so desperately trying to keep her composure. Her hand was trembling when she reached for her cup of coffee, her chin too. “Adia has retreated quite far,” he noted. At least, she wasn't helping Hermione to control the emotions threatening to overwhelm her right now.

  Hermione nodded and wiped some tears from her eyes. “The potions don't need a lot of attention I think. Perhaps you'll … get round to brewing them.”

  Severus unfolded the parchment and skimmed the list of ingredients and the instructions for the preparation. He knitted his brows. During the time he himself had taken the first of the potions, he hadn't thought a lot about what it contained and how it worked. Especially since Hermione hadn't been quite willing to share this information. Albeit, had he really cared he would have found a way to make her show him the recipe earlier. Severus's eyebrows twitched when he realised that he obviously trusted Hermione at least as much as she trusted him.

  But now that he held the recipe in his hands he understood why it had been necessary for her to adapt the composition of the potion to his needs. “May I offer a suggestion for an improvement?” he asked. 

  She looked at him wide-eyed. “Um, sure.”

  “If you add powdered jade to the first potion you are able to use a higher amount of lionfish spine and wormwood so the muscle relaxing effect will always be sufficient. The powdered jade reabsorbs the excess. And the effect of the Alihotsy leaves won't be too strong if you boil them for about fifteen minutes and put them on ice for about five before you chop them.”

  Hermione blinked while she contemplated his suggestions. “That would mean the … potion would no longer have to be adjusted to the needs of the patients,” she finally mumbled.

  “Exactly.”

  She stared at him, mouth ajar. “I-I didn't know that was an option.”

  Severus raised his eyebrows. “That's why I am allowed to call myself a Potions Master while you have to stick to Potions Apprentice for the time being.”

  “Right,” she replied slowly but with a smile on her face. “It would be great if you changed that.”

  He nodded and narrowed his eyes a fraction before he added, “But for a Potions Apprentice this concoction is an exceptional performance.”

  She almost choked on her coffee. “Wait, was that a compliment?” she asked.

  “Did it sound like a rebuke?”

  “No! It's just … I think you never complimented me before.”

  “Really?” he asked innocently. “That doesn't sound like me at all.” He savoured the smile illuminating her face, putting the boundless exhaustion in the rear for one, two seconds, and caught himself reciprocating it. Then he returned to the parchment. “I will try to prepare the potions.”

  “Thank you.”

  “How did you even get the idea to create such a potion?” he inquired, folding the parchment and tucking it between the pages of his journal.

  “Ginny. She was suffering a lot after Harry's death. I mean, we all did. We all thought the war was finally over …”

  Severus looked down at his hands. Yes, after the death of the Dark Lord, they'd all thought the war would finally end. Not even he expected the Dark Lord to be instantly superseded by the Blond Lord. He'd contemplated the possibility but didn't believe it possible. No, wrong. He hadn't wanted to believe it possible.

  “But Ginny suffered worse. She didn't even attend her seventh year. We all tried to help her somehow. But nothing got through to her. It was as if she was … switched off. She was going through the motions without really noticing what she was doing. Ron …” She swallowed. “He could barely stomach it. He loved his little sister very much. He asked me to help her somehow.” She rubbed her temple.

  “And your first thought was a combination of potions piecing fragmented memories back together and weakening them?” Severus asked and arched an eyebrow. 

  Another lopsided smile. “No. My first thought was to ascertain what the problem was. I know Ginny. She is so strong! When Harry broke up with her so she wouldn't become a target for Voldemort she only fought harder to end this war. Whatever was causing her condition had to be severe. So I practised Legilimency with Ron.” She blushed.

  “Of course, you did,” Severus muttered as if that had been the only sensible thing to do. He sipped at his coffee.

  “Anyway,” she said, “I could convince Ginny to let me take a look in her mind and there I saw all of those … how did you just call them? Fragmented?” He nodded. “Yes. I saw all of the fragmented memories. And I especially saw how they were acting when she was asleep. How they … randomly clung to each other and terrorised Ginny. But whom do I tell?”

  “Right.” But it wasn't only him knowing what she was talking about. She'd experienced it herself. He had noticed it since they'd arrived here. In the light seeping from under her door in the middle of the night. In the dark shadows under her eyes. In the desperate attempts to let Adia operate for her because – even though some of the fragments were resting in Adia's part of their mind – she'd been less burdened by them and was, therefore, better functioning. 

  “Initially, I only developed the first potion, Madam Pomfrey and your successor at Hogwarts helped me with it. And it seemed to work at first. Ginny grew more lucid and focused even though she suffered a great deal while the potion assembled the memories. But approximately five days after the nightmares stopped the memories started to crumble again and Ginny returned to her previous condition in no time.”

  Hence the maximum of four days for a pause. Severus huffed. And considering the gaps in Hermione's recipe, Albus obviously hadn't employed a new Potions Master but someone coming from one of the related professions. Perhaps a mediwizard if he was able to substitute for Madam Pomfrey in parts. Mediwizards possessed enough skills regarding potions to teach the Hogwarts curriculum. And they were doubtlessly cheaper than a Potions Master.

  “So, I actually only developed the second potion based on a theory and hoped that it would work. Ginny was hard to convince to give it a second try, she'd never have agreed to a third.”

  “Understandably so,” Severus said.

  “But I … she …” Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “I think we were all lucky that it worked. She is … well, fine would be an exaggeration. All of that has changed her. But she is able to go on. She graduated the year after and started an Auror's training.”

  “I'm glad she's better.”

  “Yes, she is.” Her voice faded just like the little peaceful bubble of this conversation dissipated, leaving only silence between them.

  The ticking of the clock sounded like a metronome in the quiet kitchen but Severus's heartbeat refused to adjust to it. He held Hermione's gaze and watched her crumble with every single ticking sound. Watched the weight of the situation sink back onto her shoulders. Eventually, she put her face in her hands and cried silently even though it had to take her breath away. Only her shoulders were twitching.

  Severus closed his eyes. Coldness covered him like a cloth that almost suffocated him. His hands twitched. He would … He would do … everything. Everything as long as it helped her. 

  He blinked when Hermione had to catch her breath. She couldn't keep quiet any longer. And he couldn't sit down any longer. 

  Severus rose and went to her. He dragged her to her feet and into his arms. He didn't know where this impulse had come from, it wasn't like him embracing crying women. It was more like him fleeing from them. But he only remembered when he already held her. Damn, maybe Adia was right … 

  When she'd been a child he'd despised Hermione, as a lab assistant he'd come to appreciate her. But neither of them fit the sensation constricting his chest right now. Neither of them explained why he held her as close as possible as if that was a way to take her pain away.

  During all of his life, there'd only ever been one other woman, no, girl, he'd held like this and that girl had been Lily. After she'd got a letter from her sister composed of only two sentences: I don't want to write to you! Stop sending these owls!

  Severus closed his eyes and was glad that Hermione wasn't able to see him right now. How pathetic he was … Falling in love with a woman half his age just because of gratefulness and a vague resemblance to Lily … And worse! How pathetic he was to fall in love with a Gryffindor he couldn't have for the second time!

  He tilted his head back and forced these thoughts back into the dank corner of his mind from whence they'd come. Should they rot down there for all he cared, he wouldn't participate in this game for a second time. 

  When Hermione had calmed down he let her go and his face was blank when she looked up at him. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled, “I didn't mean to …”

  “There's no need to apologise,” he interrupted her.

  She bit her lower lip when her chin started trembling again. “I'm just scared, Severus. What if she doesn't take the potion? What if she just … destroys me?”

  He said nothing. Because what was he supposed to say? If Adia refused to take the potion and destroyed Hermione that would be the end of them both. For that would mean that he would have to send Adia's dead body through the pantry or bury it himself in the garden. And that would mean that he most likely would lose his mind. So, sooner or later Albus wouldn't be able to free anybody from this house when he declared the end of the war because Severus was sure he couldn't stomach losing another person. And especially not Hermione. 

  She stared at him. And she seemed to see something in his eyes because she suddenly stopped crying and gulped. An action that caused him to do the same. He looked away. “I will do whatever I can to prevent that from happening,” he said hollowly.

  “I know.” She crossed her arms. “I guess I should bring her back to the front then. Makes no sense to delay it any longer.”

  “Right.”

  “Severus?”

  He looked at her reluctantly.

  “Promise me to not have sex with Adia.”

  “I promise,” he said.

  Hermione held his gaze as if she was looking for any sign of insincerity in them. Eventually, she nodded. “See you soon, Severus.”

  “See you soon,” he echoed and watched Hermione turn into Adia.

  She raised her chin a little, a mirthless smile playing around her lips. “I will not take this potion without you having sex with me.”

  Severus scoffed and gritted his teeth. “I know.” He turned away, snatched his journal from the table and left the kitchen. 

  She caught up with him in the hallway and grabbed his arm. “What do you mean?”

  He glared at her until she pulled her hand back. “I mean that I will meet your distasteful demands,” he hissed.

  She gasped as if she herself hadn't expected that. “Really?”

  Severus wrinkled his nose in disgust. Without answering he left her standing there and went downstairs.

Chapter Text

  “Imperturbatio!” barked Severus when he was downstairs in the basement and after the lab was warded against sounds he took the stool, lifted it above his head and smashed it onto the stone floor. The splintering of the wood was equally soothing and frustrating. It loosened what constricted his chest but it wasn't enough to calm him down. Panting Severus propped himself on the lab table and closed his eyes. His pulse thumped in his ears. 

  He would break the promise he'd given to Hermione directly after he'd given it. He wouldn't even try to find another way to make Adia take the potion. Hermione was running out of time. She would despise him for it but she would live. 

  Tears were burning behind Severus's closed lids and while he normally forced them down he now took the opportunity. He focused a bit more on everything that haunted him at night and when the first tear ran down his face he pointed his wand at his eyes and said, “Auctifica!”

  What – in hindsight – turned out to be unfortunate because the charm that was designed to rinse dirt or other particles from the eyes made them water so much that he was barely able to see what he was doing. He tore two glass vessels from the shelf and flinched when they shattered on the ground before he got hold of a little vial he could collect his tears in.

  It took approximately ten minutes for the charm to wear off. Slowly his vision got clearer and he repaired the two glass vessels first and the stool right after. Although he hadn't cried the tears on his own account he now felt calm enough to tend to the potions that needed to be brewed. Adia could wait until tonight.

  At the end of the day, three vials were standing on the table in front of Severus and the reversing potion was at its last stage of rest that Hermione had added to the original. He'd just returned from his room fetching Hermione's wand and was now counting eight drops of the tears he'd collected earlier into a small bowl. 

  He paused and looked down at his own wand, holding it in a tight grip. To his pale skin, the dark wood was a stark contrast. It bore some intricate carvings on the handle that were biting into his palm, leaving imprints. He'd barely had time to get used to this new wand and now … He clenched his teeth so roughly it hurt. He was still determined to sacrifice his magic for this potion, for Hermione, but he had not anticipated that he would have such a hard time going through with it.

  Magic … 

  It tied him to his mother. It had protected him from his father. It had carried him from his parental home into another world and made him the man he was today. He defined himself through magic, he was proud of what he was able to do. 

  But magic had cost him a lot as well. It had lured him to the wrong path. It had taken Lily away from him – in more than one way. He probably would have become a better man had he been a Muggle or a Squib. 

  Or not. Perhaps he would have become an alcoholic. Severus scoffed. He was actually quite sure that he would have messed up his life as a Muggle just as thoroughly as he'd done being a wizard. He simply was that type of person. So why should he cling to his magic?

  A jolt rocked him and he put the tip of his wand into the tears. “Potentia magica relinquat!” he grunted. 

  Heat spread through him, from the head down to the toe. For a moment he felt like his body was in flames. Severus ground his teeth and gasped. Then the heat rolled back up and gathered in his head, seemed to rip it apart, to burn it, to destroy it. He couldn't keep quiet any longer and emitted a small cry before everything that threatened to tear his head apart moved downwards. Across his neck and his right shoulder, down his arm into his hand, and through his wand into the tears. Severus was panting. It felt like a part of him was following his magic. The wand in his hand started vibrating, more and more, so Severus had difficulty holding on to it. Then it suddenly burst into flames and cracked.

  Beads of sweat ran down Severus's face, the air in the lab was suffocatingly hot and sizzled with magic. His body hurt, his vision was blurred and he felt dizzy. He swayed and felt like he'd attended one of the never-ending Death Eater meetings the Dark Lord had sometimes held. Those that had him standing straight for six hours and more on end, proving his unwavering loyalty. He pulled the repaired stool from under the table and sat down. There were still a few minutes left before he had to go on. A few minutes … 

  Severus closed his eyes. This tiredness, this infinite exhaustion and the inability to succumb to it … He had hoped he would never have to experience it again. Not after Hermione had freed him. And here he was. Tears were stinging behind his closed eyelids. He felt empty and devoid of any hope. As if he'd never gone through Hermione's therapy. Everything … everything he had done, that he had experienced, that he was about to do … it pulled him down. 

  He almost didn't manage to open his eyes again, to rise to his trembling legs. Magic was more than a tool. Magic was vital energy. Magic was a well in the body of a magician. He'd read about it in The Magical Potential. He'd known that he would feel like this. But damn … 

  Severus took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before he exhaled slowly. He was running out of time. The period of rest neared its end and he didn't know how stable the combination of tears and magic was. So he drew them up into a dropper and counted the first three drops and after a short break three more into the potion. It seethed and boiled although there was no fire underneath the cauldron. White fog emerged from it and with each drop that fell into the potion, Severus felt weaker. As if the magic would only now fully leave him. 

  After the potion had calmed down he put the dropper aside, his hands quivering, and sank back down onto the stool. He reached for the Strengthening Solution he'd fetched from storage before he'd started. He should have prepared a stronger one, though. This one was by no means a weak concoction and it had the benefit of coming without any side effects. But there were stronger potions. Strengthening potions that came at a cost. Usually a small amount of lifetime. And Merlin knew he would have gladly given a few days if it would have made him feel less like shit now. All of this would have been easier if he had prepared one of the stronger concoctions. 

  Well, it didn't matter now. And after the potion had fairly taken effect, Severus felt like his legs would at least carry him again. So he stood, slowly ascended the stairs and – standing in the open door - called for Adia.

  “What?” she griped from the parlour. Severus had ignored her all day long.

  “Come downstairs,” he ordered and turned around. 

  “I will not have sex with you in the lab!” she protested.

  Severus rolled his eyes but he didn't reply. He went back down again and stopped in front of the cauldron, waiting for her to follow him. And she did – after a little while. When she was standing in front of him, looking at him sullenly, he took Hermione's wand and held it out for her. “Draw a circle over the cauldron and say reverto origo,” he instructed. 

  Adia reluctantly reached for the wand. “Why do I have to do that?”

  “No questions,” he countered and crossed his arms over his chest. 

  “And what if I don't do it?” she asked anyway. 

  He answered her with a glare even Albus sometimes hadn't been able to hold. Adia buckled under it. She gulped and then she did as he'd told her. 

  The potion was colourless at this point but when her magic hit it, it started to glow. Warm and golden. Then it suddenly stopped and it looked like pure water once again. 

  “Now what?” Adia asked.

  Severus took the wand from her hand. “Now you can go to my room and wait for me.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “To your room?”

  “Do I speak Parseltongue?” he snapped.

  Adia raised her hands defiantly, turned around and left the lab. 

  Severus watched her leave before he bottled the finally finished reversing potion. It was enough to fill two small vials. They'd only need one of them but he knew better than to dispose of the remaining one. He would write a damn paper about this and maybe he would need a sample. 

  He took his time cleaning up the lab, more than he normally would. He used it to clear his mind and to prepare for what he had to do next. And to further recover from the loss of his magic but mainly to prepare. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was just sex. He'd had to do worse throughout the years of his espionage. It was just sex.

  Severus went to the storage cabinet before he left the lab and took a pain-relief potion; his head still hurt. And a dose of a potion soothing nausea. Afterwards, he felt almost human again. When he left the lab, he took a total of five vials with him. They clinked against each other when he ascended the stairs.

  Before he went to meet Adia he stopped at the parlour and put three of the five vials on the table. One of them contained the reversing potion, the second another dose of the Strengthening Solution and the last one the first of Hermione's therapy potions. He'd made the adjustments he'd discussed with her and he had reduced or increased some other ingredients as he'd seen fit. She would thus be her own guinea pig now and he thought it only fair. She'd probably have fewer problems than he had faced. 

  Eventually, he found no more reason to make Adia wait and resigned to his fate. She was standing at the window when he stepped into his room and turned around, her arms crossed. But her face bore no impatience or anger. She looked at him with wide eyes, almost as if she was growing anxious about her own wish now. 

  “Are you having second thoughts?”, Severus asked.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He pursed his lips, then he held out a vial for her. “Drink this.”

  “What is it?” she asked but still took the vial.

  “Contraceptive potion.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure it isn't a sleeping potion so you can administer the reversing potion without keeping your side of our bargain?”

  “You have to take the reversing potion voluntarily so it wouldn't do to drug you,” he reminded her with more patience than he felt. He'd considered that option. He wished it was an option. But it wasn't and the vial he'd given her only held a contraceptive potion. 

  She decided to trust him and unstoppered the vial before she downed its content. 

  In the meantime, Severus took the last vial from his pocket and sighed when he opened it.

  “What is that?” Adia inquired.

  He briefly closed his eyes and forced the soaring anger back down. “An aphrodisiac,” he countered drily.

  Adia huffed. “I'm not that ugly!”

  “No!”, he snapped, “But my last experience with sex wasn't quite the best!” He needed a little bit of liquid encouragement to be able to do this. 

  Severus was just lifting the vial to his lips when Adia stepped forward and put her hand on his. “Don't.”

  Her gaze hit him unexpectedly hard. 

  “Let's first try without it. I want to see how … I affect you.”

  Severus looked at her, the vial still short before his mouth. He swallowed. Then he lowered his hand and put the stopper back into the neck of the vial. “Very well …”

  It was getting dark in front of the windows. The dwindling light blurred Adia's features when she took the vial from his hand and put it away. Then she touched his hand again. Hers was warm and soft. She held his eyes, didn't even blink.

  But he tensed when she caressed his chest. “Is this okay?” she asked.

  He scoffed and shook his head a little. “Nothing of this is okay,” he sneered.

  She only rolled her eyes and then she suddenly was so close. He could feel her breath at the neckline of his shirt and, for the first time, consciously noticed her scent. Spicy, mixed with a heavy sweet flowery touch. Severus's body acted before he got to think about it: He stepped back and reached for her wrists.

  Adia flinched and looked at him round-eyed. But she didn't say anything.

  Severus stood frozen for a few seconds, waiting for his pulse to slow down. Then he loosened his grip on her arms and stroked her palms with his thumbs. Let his fingers slip between hers, giving them both time to get used to this new kind of contact. To the tenderness. To the absence of violence. He looked down at her hands, which also were partly Hermione's hands, and saw the thin scars Adia's attempted murder had left on their wrists. They were still red. Severus tensed again.

  Suddenly Adia closed her eyes and took a sharp breath.

  “What's the matter?” he groaned.

  “Hermione runs riot.”

  At that, Severus briefly squeezed his eyes shut. “Block her out.”

  Adia snorted. “You do know that this will soon be her memory?”

  He only raised his eyebrows. Of course, he knew. But he still didn't want her with them right now.

  Adia sighed softly and frowned, doing whatever she needed to do to block Hermione from her consciousness. Her hand in his tightened, then she bobbed her head. “All right.”

  Severus nodded curtly. He needed some seconds, some erratic thumps of his heart to be able to focus on Adia again.

  She gulped. The vein on her neck pulsed heavily and for a moment she glanced down at her hands and at what he was doing with them. Just stroking her skin. Obviously, this wasn't what she had expected when it came to seduction but he could see that it worked. She seemed fascinated. 

  At long last, he let go of one of her hands and put two fingers under her chin. Her face was nothing like the ruthless spy that had blackmailed him to do this anymore. It was the face of a girl, hoping nobody would hurt her. Severus knitted his brows and smiled mirthlessly. “Oh Adia,” he murmured and clicked his tongue.

  Her expression hardened but before she got the chance to respond he bent down and kissed her. Her breath hitched in surprise and she stiffened a little but she got past her small shock quickly and leaned into the kiss.

  Kissing obviously was something she'd already experienced. She gained back some confidence and let her hand slip into his hair. Severus rolled his eyes and trailed his lips down to her neck. He made sure to not leave any trace on her skin, Hermione would hate it. His free hand found the hem of her shirt and dove beneath it, lightly touching her back. Adia curved into it and leaned her head back, his tongue circling across her collarbone. Her warm scent enveloped him.

  But she kissed him and he had his hands underneath her shirt. I cringe so much.

  Severus froze mid-movement when the words Hermione had written in the diary crossed his mind. He gulped, slightly shook his head, and took off Adia's shirt.

  Her hair cascaded down her back, her breast rising and falling at a rapid pace, and Severus let her open the buttons of his shirt. Now her hands were a little cool when she lay them on his chest. He flinched inwardly. Looking her straight in the eyes, he forced an expression of indifference to his face. She traced down his stomach, across his waist to his back – and once again Severus stepped back. “Don't,” he gasped and wrinkled his nose.

  Adia swallowed. “Okay.” She pulled back and his shirt out of his trousers before she flicked it down his shoulders. Her gaze roved over his bare torso, the scars and the sparse black hair. Then his arms. At the scarred skin on his left forearm, her gaze lingered.

  Severus tipped his head up a bit and, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, he turned her around so she was standing with her back to him. He opened her bra and slid the straps from her shoulders. Brushed her hair aside and bent down to kiss her neck. Her muscles were tense and she apparently didn't know what to do with her hands because she reached for his hair again.

  “Could you please leave my hair be?” Severus nagged close to her ear.

  She huffed. “Am I even allowed to touch you at all?”

  “Not yet.”

  She withdrew once again and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Severus exhaled sharply before he returned to her neck and shoulder. He felt her anger subside gradually. She leaned against him and bent her head back until it rested on his shoulder. She allowed him to strip her off her bra entirely; he dropped it to the ground, hitting her shirt already lying there. He traced her flat belly with his fingers, felt her muscles twitch underneath her skin and when he found her waistband he slipped his hand beneath it until he reached the wiry hair of her mound. Adia sighed softly.

  He opened her fly and shoved jeans and knickers down her thighs in one go. Adia spread her legs a bit. The fabric glided down to the ground and although Severus was pretty sure that she wanted his fingers back at her mound he grabbed her hips and pressed her against him. Her round bum spread warmth in his crotch and Adia gasped in surprise before she rubbed it against his middle. His eyelids fluttered, the tip of his tongue teasing the soft skin behind her ear. Merlin … He didn't think it possible but there might be a chance that he could actually pull this off without the aphrodisiac. Still, composing himself wouldn't be a problem. 

  Severus slowly trailed his hand down her arm and laced his fingers with hers again, pulling her towards the bed. He guided her past him and Adia sat down, skidded a bit up the mattress and drew him on top of her. She caught his lips and kissed him but she indeed kept her hands to herself and didn't touch him.

  Bit by bit Severus explored her chest and her stomach with his lips. Her nipples, the crease underneath her breasts, her belly button – everything got his attention. From the corner of his eye, he watched her hands stroking the mattress, crumpling the sheet he used as a blanket, bending her head back when he teased her nipples, moaning softly. Then she sank back down and let go.

  Severus kneeled in front of the bed and spread her legs. The insides of her thighs were warm and soft, he rubbed his scratchy cheek against it and was glad he hadn't shaved today; she seemed to like it judged by her moans. His nose was first to make contact with her swollen lips, deeply inhaling her musky scent, before his tongue followed. He circled her clit with its tip, scraped his teeth over it and cocked an eyebrow when Adia choked out a cry. Yet he left her clit and licked further down, slid his tongue a bit into her wet folds and sent a silent thanks to whoever was willing to listen that Adia may have got a virgin mind but not a virgin body. 

  Severus closed his eyes and let himself get a bit carried away with her taste, her scent and her moaning. He'd always had a soft spot for that. For women laying underneath him like that and giving themselves to their pleasure. For the heat growing around and between him and them. And for his own arousal that slowly crept up on him. He could almost forget what circumstances had brought him to this point. Almost because … 

  … my skin is on the brink of peeling. And still, I'm feeling dirty.

  His mind didn't fail to remind him of more of Hermione's words. Nausea rose in him like a cold searing wave. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. To focus on this moment, placing the consequences on hold for later. He didn't stop indulging Adia, he could do this, he only had to focus.

  But only her increasing moans and eventually her thighs, jamming his head for a moment when she shuddered through her climax, managed to distract him enough to let go of Hermione. 

  He drew her legs apart with a soft grunt and looked up at her. Her face was flushed and covered with a thin layer of sweat, her lips swollen, her pupils dilated. “Wow,” she breathed and Severus made her shiver in an echo of pleasure when he licked her folds once more. She moaned and sat up a bit, supporting herself on her arms. “I'm beginning to understand why everyone is so keen on that.”

  He caught her eyes. “The men you wanted to have sex with wouldn't have done anything like that for you.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Why do you do it?” And while she didn't say it he could hear the word she only thought: Although I haven't given you any good reason.

  Severus swallowed and looked away. “This will soon be Hermione's memory.” If he went on and raped her he could at least do it as pleasantly as possible.

  Adia touched his arm and signalled him to come closer. Severus did but he avoided meeting her eyes. When Adia opened his trousers he even closed his eyes completely. His arms were shaking underneath his weight.

  I will ensure that you will never forget this lesson. It will haunt you for the rest of your pathetic little life as it haunted me.

  Oh, well. He huffed, a cold tickling sensation running down his scalp and his spine. If not Hermione then Lucius. Severus shoved away from Adia and sat down beside her, rubbing his eyes and his face, getting rid of her juices on his face. He felt her shift behind him and his heart stumbled. Being so close to her made him nervous. And being on top of her was completely out of the question right now.

  “Severus?”

  He raised a hand, signalling her to be quiet. He just needed a second. 

  Severus forced himself to inhale and exhale deeply lest the choking sensation in his chest would grow stronger. He felt like his whole body was trembling under the force of his pulse. He gulped. Gulped again. He was only aware of the fact that he'd closed his eyes when the mattress beside him shifted. When he blinked Adia was crouching down in front of him.

  “May I touch you now?” she asked with as soft a voice as he'd never heard her use. 

  He scoffed. “You will have to unless you change your mind.” He waited for a second. “Will you change your mind, Adia?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “I thought so. I guess compassion doesn't go that far,” he muttered and wrinkled his nose.

  She sighed. “What good would it do to stop now?” she asked. “How would you feel remembering this, knowing you couldn't handle it? Would you ever dare chance it again?”

  “That is none of your business,” he growled.

  “Right,” she admitted, “but maybe this can be something of significance that I'm able to do in the short period of time I have left.”

  “This is the sort of significant action you want to do? Forcing others to have sex?” he jeered.

  She didn't respond. Only her expression betrayed how hurt she was.

  Severus looked up at the ceiling. “Let's get this over with,” he mumbled.

  Adia rose and he did the same. She hesitated. And yet she put her hand on his face and kissed him, very shyly compared to earlier. The tip of her tongue carefully traced his lips and only when he opened his mouth for her she dared proceed and meet his tongue. She had to taste herself on his lips; he for his part was still very much aware of what he'd just done. But if she noticed it she didn't seem to mind.

  She shoved his trousers down but before she could grope for his erection he guided her hands back up his chest. Yes, he was aroused, completely without liquid encouragement and despite their little argument, but if she touched him as Bellatrix had touched him this would be over in an instant and he wouldn't risk that, for Hermione's sake. 

  Severus turned around with her and urged her back onto the bed. He followed without breaking the kiss. Her thighs enveloped his hips in a warm embrace, his cock gliding across her wet entrance. She moaned against his mouth, pulling him closer with her legs.

  “Please,” she whimpered, ending the kiss.

  He huffed, got into the right position and carefully pushed forwards. Her heat was overwhelming and he closed his eyes without thinking. But then he saw Bellatrix before his mind's eye and he tore them open again. His heart thumped in his chest but he was no longer able to tell if it was because of the images forcing themselves onto him or because of the arousal building up inside him against all odds. 

  He watched Adia. She was biting her lower lip, bending her head back, moaning in time with every single one of his thrusts, her face contorted to an absolutely delicious expression of lust. Yes, she was created for sex. She was even able to distract his mind. And because Hermione was somewhere in her he still had the urge to pleasure her as much as possible, despite everything she demanded from him. Shifting his weight to one arm, he felt for her clit and massaged it with his thumb. 

  Adia tore her eyes open and gasped, uttering a bright sound of surprise. He felt her inner muscles flutter around his shaft when a little climax washed over her unexpectedly. Severus smirked, slowed his movements and lost himself in her sight for a few seconds.

  He'd had a decent amount of sex throughout his life, though mostly with Muggles. Most of the time he'd lacked the opportunity and especially the inclination to hook up with a witch. The witches he'd usually encountered had been either too old, too young, too crazy, or too malicious to rouse his interest. But when it came to sex it wasn't really relevant whether someone could yield a wand or not. So whenever he'd got into this glorious position, being on top of a sensual woman, he'd been absolutely overwhelmed by feminine passion. By its beauty on the peak of pleasure, by the ability to experience one orgasm after the other, by their scent, their taste, the sounds they produced. 

  And if he was honest with himself if only for a split second, he had to admit that Adia was not only sensual but also beautiful. In another life, under different circumstances … he could have genuinely desired her. 

  “What are you doing?” Adia's voice cut through his musings.

  He blinked. “I'm looking at you,” he replied before he slowly started moving again.

  “And what do you see?” she asked panting.

  “You.” He paused when a warm shiver ran through his body. She was so hot around him, felt so good. “I despise … deeply despise who you are and what you do to Hermione …” She whimpered underneath him and clawed her fingers into his shoulders. “… but I swear to God, you are made for this, Adia.” He bent down and kissed her neck, carefully bit her soft skin and moaned when she gasped. He wished he could bite down harder. He wished he could leave his traces and hurt her a little bit. Just enough that she would enjoy it.

  But Hermione … 

  “Ahh please,” Adia breathed when he hit that special spot in her.

  Severus groaned hoarsely. “I understand why you had to experience this before you coalesce with Hermione, even …” He briefly closed his eyes and gasped when she tensed her muscles around him. “… even though I don't have words … for the extent of hate I feel for you.” His thrusts became faster, went deeper, her moans ringing louder in his ears. She pulled him closer with every thrust of him, clinging to his back. Just before he reached his own point of no return he stilled, looked at her and said, “I hate you, Adia Whitmore. And I hate what you make me do. But without a doubt, you are made for this.”

  Adia heaved a dry sob and dragged him down to kiss him once again. And while Severus thrust into her a few more times, he massaged her clit and let himself be swept away by her climax. He stiffened above her, opening his mouth widely, spilling himself into her spurt after hot spurt. 

  When the pleasure subsided, he rolled from her and laid down beside her panting. His eyes closed, he listened to his gradually calming heartbeat and her breathing next to him. A few minutes dragged along until Adia sat up. He blinked. It'd got almost completely dark by now but he was still able to see her.

  And obviously, she was as well for she said, “You're not looking as content as I'd have expected after what you said.”

  Severus wrinkled his nose. “I just had sex with you against Hermione's express wishes. Even though it might surprise a lot of people but I'm not into rape.”

  Adia huffed and pulled his sheet up to cover her bare chest. “This wasn't so much against Hermione's will as she made it out to be.”

  Severus glared at her.

  She barked a mirthless laugh. “Oh, come on, Severus!” she exclaimed. “Don't you think it a bit suspicious how much she struggled against all of this? I know, you're her former teacher and … I don't know, twice her age? But it isn't as if I demanded to have sex with Lucius Malfoy. You fought for the right side, you are obviously a gentleman, even though a grumpy one. You're not looking that bad and she knows that you will never mention this ever again, neither towards her nor towards anybody else. And additionally, it wasn't her body so she doesn't even have to be ashamed when you look at her the next time.” Adia stopped momentarily. “Given the fact that it will save her life her resistance was a bit … over the top, don't you think?”

  Severus exhaled slowly. “That is not the point. The only thing relevant is that she did not want this to happen.”

  “You didn't want it to happen either but I would bet my right hand that you enjoyed it.”

  “Be careful you don't lose it,” he growled. Then he reached for his nightstand and switched on the light. “Go and take a shower, Adia. Thoroughly. Put on fresh clothes and come downstairs in an hour.”

  She gulped. Then she nodded and got out of the bed. Without minding her nakedness she collected her clothes and left his room.

  Severus sat up and rubbed his face. The scent of sex lingered in the air, thick and heavy. He curled his lips. Then he rose and opened the window before he went to take a shower himself.

Chapter Text

  Adia was already waiting for him when he later stepped into the parlour. It was pitch dark outside, he had absolutely no clue what time it was. She was sitting on the settee, bathed in the glow of a candle, her head put in her hands. 

  She looked up at him and when his eyes met hers he felt a strange flash of attachment, if only for a second. But in this second, he noticed so many little details they shared. His hair was as wet as hers. She missed a wand, he missed his magic. Her clothes looked as misfit as his felt. As if what they'd done had changed him physically. And if having sex against Hermione's will had already made him her unwilling accomplice, pretending that a shower could undo the damage they'd caused made him really feel like it. His stomach clenched.

  Severus sat down opposite of her and slid the vial containing the reversing potion towards her. “Time to keep your promise.”

  “You still want me to take it?” she asked and actually sounded faintly surprised.

  “Of course. Why else would I have had intercourse with you?”

  She closed her eyes. “Hermione will freak out.”

  “And rightly so.”

  “Will be a long time with her in this house.”

  “Probably.”

  “The same time with me would be more pleasant.”

  Severus exhaled sharply. “Stop your dawdling, Adia. Even if she would kill me right away I would prefer it over spending more time with you.”

  “There is a possibility that she'll do just that,” she pointed out.

  He arched an eyebrow and looked at her admonishingly. He was so sick of her games. She should rather be glad that Hermione was living inside of her or he would have killed her long ago.

  Adia sighed and took the vial. Her hand was trembling slightly when she unstoppered it. But before she drank she paused. “It … It is my fault that Hermione lost her child,” she said in such a low voice that Severus had difficulty understanding her. Then she lifted her gaze. “I couldn't stop looking at you and that is why we noticed too late that the Murus Spell was already dissolving.” She gulped. “It was my fault.”

  Severus returned her look blankly. “Aren't last-minute confessions beneath your dignity?”

  “No,” she returned without a hint of irritation. “I know you don't like me, you told and showed me often enough.”

  “I said, I despise you,” he interrupted her.

  “Right,” she mumbled and rubbed her forehead. “Well, I don't hate you. You are my origin and my downfall, Severus Snape. I don't know a lot about emotions but I think I … in my own, emotionally limited way … I think I love you.” And then she downed the reversing potion in one gulp.

  Severus ground his teeth while he watched Adia disappear. It was nothing like the transformations he'd seen happen when she turned into Hermione. No, she literally coalesced with her. Her skin dissolved over Hermione's, small patches of fair skin appeared and they were growing. The rest was just the same. Strands of wet brown curls popped up between the smooth almost black hair and they spread. Even her face melted away from Hermione's. Only her eyes … Severus could have sworn Hermione's eyes had been brighter. He could have sworn there was still a hint of Adia in her eyes.

  But the look was Hermione's, without any doubt. It was an exhausted, aggravated look, furious beyond measure. “I hate you,” she hissed.

  “I know.” And still, her disdain hit him like a bludger straight in the stomach. 

  “And Adia lied!”

  “I know.”

  Hermione was panting heavily and drew her fingers through her hair.

  “I take it she's gone?” Severus asked, forcing the words to leave his mouth and waiting for her nod before he handed her the vial with the Strengthening Solution. To his surprise, his hand was completely calm when he held it out to her.

  Another furious glance hit him before Hermione snatched the vial and emptied it.

  Then Severus pushed the last vial her way. “This is the first of your therapy potions. I will tend to the other one tomorrow.” Then he stood and left the parlour without sparing her another glance. 

  Later he marvelled that his legs had carried him up to his room at all. 

  It was a matter of strength and focus to produce effective potions without the naturally given potential of magic. But contrary to casting spells it was possible.

  Of course, Severus didn't have any experience with it but he'd read about it. There were a few Muggles, most of them married to witches or wizards, talented and trained enough to brew potions of acceptable quality. And some Squibs were able to do it as well. That morning he learned to respect every single one of them.

  It probably would have come more naturally to him if he had slept more than two troubled hours last night. But he'd had a hard time staying in his bed. Even though he'd put clean sheets on he could smell Adia everywhere. She was like a damn succubus and right before he'd finally fallen asleep he'd considered sleeping outside in the garden just to get rid of her scent and her words that echoed in his mind. 

  Therefore, the second therapy potion that he tried to prepare following Hermione's instructions (with a few little changes, of course) demanded a tremendous amount of willpower from him. He had to focus the normal, physical strength of his body to breathe a magical effect into it. He used Hermione's wand to channel this strength and transfer it to the potion. If he failed the result would only be an indigestible mess. 

  Thus, by now, sweat was beading on his forehead and his stomach growled. Severus ignored both. He couldn't leave the potion unobserved, it was a fragile mix. 

  When he was finally done his hands were trembling and he thought he wouldn't be able to keep himself upright for a single minute longer. But he'd made it. The content of the vile was glistening in a coppery shade.

  He took it and when his soft rapping didn't gain an answer he opened the door and put the vial on her nightstand. His gaze roved across her sleeping shape. A few muscles in her face were twitching, she was sweating and her eyes moved rapidly behind her closed lids. Apparently, she'd started assembling the fragments of her memories this morning.

  Severus turned away and went downstairs to appease his hunger at least a little. Afterwards, he lay down himself and almost instantly fell asleep. This time, he was exhausted enough for a long and dreamless slumber, not waking up until the middle of the following night. 

  If his magic wouldn't return his profession would demand a great deal of him in the future.

  The next day, Severus took over cooking. While he'd gone through his own period of assembling his memories, he'd been very grateful that he only had to sit down at the table to consume a minimum of prepared food; he'd been busy enough managing the lingering nausea the memories had left him with. So even if Hermione hated him he would reciprocate that favour.

  There weren't many dishes he was able to cook properly, though. As Adia had noted, his talent at the cauldron didn't extend to the kitchen. But he could manage an acceptable Shepherd's Pie and was glad that Albus had specced the house with a gas cooker; so he was able to work without his wand.

  While the pie was in the oven, Severus started writing a letter to Albus. He had to inform him that he'd succeeded in reversing the Vicissitudo Virtus. What exactly had been necessary to do so he wouldn't tell anybody though, just as Adia had predicted. 

  But although he'd finally got rid of her his thoughts still kept wandering back to her frustratingly often. Her words that he hadn't been able to reply to troubled him. They stirred something in him and he didn't like it. If he had been able to do it he would have put this memory into his Pensieve. But that demanded magic he didn't possess anymore.

  Severus was so lost in his thoughts and the letter that he only belatedly became aware of Hermione standing in the doorway, glaring at him, her arms crossed. She was wearing a too-large long-sleeved shirt and trousers looking like pyjama bottoms. Her hair was a mess and he wondered how she planned to ever untangle that. Severus returned her gaze for a little while, then he said, “Lunch is almost ready. You can eat first, just leave the leftovers, I will warm them up later.” Then he rose, took the letter, the quill and the small jar of ink, and wanted to walk past her but she didn't step aside.

  “Sit down,” she said. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale and her lips chapped. But her gaze allowed no objection.

  Severus nodded and returned to his place. He put his hands in his lap and looked up at her expectantly.

  After she'd sat down opposite him on the bench, she asked, “Have you ever seriously considered keeping your promise?”

  “No.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Then why did you give it in the first place?”

  “Because you wouldn't have let Adia get back to the front otherwise.”

  She rubbed her face. “Can you even begin to imagine how despicable it is what you have done?” she hissed.

  Severus clenched his teeth and nodded. “Yes.”

  “I trusted you!”

  He gulped. Never before had he struggled that much to hold someone's gaze. Never before had he felt so miserable. Not like this. “I know.”

  She barked a mirthless laugh. “Is that everything you have to say?”

  He took a deep breath and raised his eyebrows. “What am I supposed to say, Hermione? Do you want me to apologise for something I am not sorry about? Do you want me to say I regret it even though I don't?”

  Tears welled in her eyes while she clenched her teeth just as he'd done before. “No,” she spat, “don't bother.” Then she leaped to her feet and left the kitchen.

  Severus slumped, closed his eyes and drew his fingers through his hair. His heart was thumping and his breath was hitching. Before he left the kitchen as well, he turned off the oven and opened the door. His appetite was gone.

  The next two days were lonely. Hermione gave him as wide a berth as possible. Contrary to him, she set no great store in being awake for a few hours a day so she spent the days assembling the fragments of her memories and the nights sleeping. But at least she'd started to accept the food he prepared even though she never ate together with him. 

  Severus spent a lot of his time in the garden. He stared at the dimension barrier as if his gaze could burn a hole into it. Sometimes he even put his hands against it and sensed the magic prickling on his skin. In theory, it was possible to extract the magic they'd drained into it; but he would have needed to cast a spell to absorb it and ... well. The magic was so close but it was still out of reach.

  Today, he didn't put his hands against the barrier, though. Today, he dwelled on his thoughts. It was the first of September. The new term started at Hogwarts. Soon the train would arrive in Hogsmeade and spill students onto the platform. He'd always hated being a teacher - but he hated being here even more.

  No, that was not entirely true. He hated being here without the possibility of real potion studies. 

  He'd longed for a hiatus like this for all of his life. The possibility to focus on his studies for months without having to spy on one or two mad tyrants. That he wasn't able to use this hiatus as he'd always imagined was an irony without equal.

  He'd written the first draft of his experiences reversing the Vicissitudo Virtus. Of course, it was completely lacking Hermione's point of view; he hoped she would add it one day. And he'd busied himself with theoretical studies and carefully chose one or two experiments he couldn't carry on without. So far he had started none of it; he wanted to save his sparse abilities in case Hermione needed a potion throughout her reprocessing. As soon as she was finished he would start some experiments. But she was not done yet. He still had to wait.

  There was a faint hope that they could have a less emotionally charged conversation when she was finished with her potion-ridden therapy. That she – even if she understandably wouldn't forgive him – would at least understand why he'd met Adia's conditions. In his reply, Albus had robbed him of any hope that they could leave this house any time soon so they had to find a way to get along with each other in this limited space. 

  Severus bent his head back and let his gaze wander up the barrier. Blurry clouds drifted across the sky that was not quite as gloriously blue anymore. The summer neared its end, it got colder, the sun set earlier. Soon the autumn storms would start. How would it be to experience them underneath this dome?

  But at the moment the sparrows were still chirping in the bushes, the gnome was still digging its way through the patches, the small trees were still covered with leaves, the flowers were still blossoming. 

  Severus sighed. Then he turned his back on the barrier and went inside. He found no relief looking at it today.

  It was early in the evening when Hermione burst into his room without knocking. “Take that memory from me!” she blurted.

  Severus looked up from his notebook and raised his eyebrows when he saw her. The tangled hair, the pale, splotchy face, her clenched fists. The pulse on her neck was racing. However far she might have come with assembling her memories, she was not yet better. 

  “Do you hear me?” she snapped when his silence dragged on for too long. “I want you to take that memory from me! Obliviate me!”

  He gulped. “No.” Then he looked back down at his notebook.

  “What do you mean, no? You considered it yourself! You … Do it!” Her voice got louder by the second.

  Severus briefly closed his eyes and ground his teeth. “I can't,” he said.

  Hermione uttered a small cry, came to him and tore the notebook from under his hands, tossing it across the room. It collided with the bed frame and fell to the floor, the loud bang making him flinch. “Do it, Severus! DO IT!”

  He slowly raised his face. Said nothing. He just held her gaze, looking straight into her big, bloodshot eyes. 

  Until she turned away and sobbed, covering her mouth with a hand.

  He sighed and reached out to touch her arm but Hermione shied back.

  “Don't touch me!” she hissed.

  A deep crease built between his eyebrows, he felt sick. He stared at her while she hugged herself, maybe to keep herself from falling apart. He wished that would work.

  Severus cleared his throat, his mouth was suddenly bone-dry. “I cannot obliviate you.” He forced out the words that seemed to be stuck in his throat.

  “Why?” she whimpered without looking at him. “I just want that …” Her voice faded away. “I want it to stop.”

  His fingers twitched. “I know. I am sorry, I can't help you.”

  She whirled around. “Why can't you help me, Severus? Why can you do what she wants but not what I want? Why did you even save me when you only torture me now? WHY?” Her face flushed while she screamed at him.

  Severus let it happen silently. But his mouth twisted into a snide grimace, he felt bile rising up his throat and his voice was barely more than a hiss when he said, “Go, Hermione. Get out of my room.”

  She laughed, a short, bitter sound. “I hate you,” she said again, then she turned around and left, albeit not without slamming the door shut behind her.

  He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, waiting for his pulse to calm down. Then he drew his fingers through his hair and picked up the notebook lying upside down in front of his bed. A few pages were crumpled. Severus snapped it shut and threw it onto the table. He stilled, standing in the middle of the room, pinching the bridge of his nose. Merlin … 

  That evening found Severus fetching a bottle of firewhisky from the pantry. He was surprised that Albus so eagerly replenished what they drank. But maybe he didn't even check their orders and let the house-elves deal with them. After all, he had to wage a war … 

  Be that as it may, they had already drunk an alarming amount of whisky in the relatively short time they were here and yet he always found a new bottle if he ordered one. 

  Well, he certainly wouldn't complain.

  Instead, he took the whisky and retreated to his room, sat down at the table and drank a fair bit of it in no time. He'd eaten barely anything that day so he sensed the effect of the alcohol quite quickly. When his head felt a little lighter and the room around him swayed a little more he got the Pensieve from his closet and huffed softly. He might not be able to use magic but he could watch the memories in this Pensieve. Everyone could, even Muggles.

  Severus bent his face over the stone basin and let himself fall into his past. When he landed his surroundings swayed even more; maybe he'd drunk a little too much. Well, it didn't matter.

  He looked around. Hogwarts. With a sullen grunt, he tried to ascertain which memory he'd landed in. But Potter and Black were nowhere to be seen. In fact, nobody was to be seen. A good start.

  Severus walked across the deserted hallway, one hand on the wall. The whisky hummed through his body and caused everything around him to look a bit surreal. Being intoxicated in a Pensieve was a bit like dreaming. 

  At long last, he saw his younger self leave a classroom. “Yes, professor, I'll hurry!” And then he knew which memory this was. He closed his eyes for a second and contemplated whether he really wanted to watch this unfurl. And decided to go for it, there was worse to be seen in this Pensieve.

  He followed his younger self with a bit of distance between them. Severus knew where he'd headed back then, he wasn't in a hurry to follow himself. And it wasn't advisable anyway since he didn't know whether it was possible to throw up in a Pensieve – and he didn't care to find out. 

  He caught up to his past self when it had finally found what it had looked for in every empty classroom, in every alcove, in every teeing hallway between the classroom and here: Lily. She was crouched behind a suit of armour, her legs bent, crying. Her book bag was peeking out from behind the armour and she turned away when Severus stopped in front of her.

  “What's the matter, Lily? Why haven't you been in Transfigurations?”

  “Go away,” Lily mumbled. She was still so young. Severus – the grown-up – squatted down beside the suit of armour and because he had difficulty keeping his balance he sat down completely. 

  “Why? What have I done?” his younger self inquired and frowned.

  Lily glared at him. “Everything is not about you, Sev!” she hissed. 

  Severus saw himself notice the sheet of paper she was clutching in her hand. “What's that?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” She pulled it down between her knees.

  Severus heard himself sigh and then his younger self kneeled down in front of Lily. “Is this your sister's answer? The one you waited for?”

  Lily kept quiet but a few more tears streamed down her reddened cheeks. 

  “May I … read it?” He reached for it and Lily reluctantly let go of the letter.

  While his younger self was reading the short letter, the letter that had only contained the two devastating sentences, the grown-up Severus watched Lily. He tilted his head and tried to catch every detail of her face. The flaming red hair, the green eyes behind the curtain of tears, the freckles and the long blond eyelashes. It was almost physically painful to see her like that, knowing what her future held for her. Knowing that he would lose her. Repeatedly. 

  The sigh of his younger self caused Severus to blink. “She doesn't deserve your love.”

  “You don't deserve love. You receive it as a gift. Or you don't.” Her voice got lost in more tears. 

  The grown-up Severus huffed. But the younger one only gulped and skidded closer to Lily. First, he only put his hand on her shoulder. And when she didn't wriggle away from him, he put his arm around her and leaned against the wall beside her. Lily sobbed, it echoed from the walls. And it sounded as if a dam had broken when he'd touched her. She snuggled against him which had been such a surprise for Severus back then that he hadn't known what to do. But when a few seconds had passed he'd dared enclose his arms around her and hold her.

  The grown-up Severus could remember how she'd felt in his arms. How the urge to protect her from everything that hurt her so gravely had risen inside of him. He wished somebody had told him that he wouldn't need Dark Magic to protect somebody. That he wouldn't have to be the most frightening player on the field. The player that caused everybody to tremble. He wished he could tell his younger self.

  The memory started to fade out but Severus held onto it. The image in front of him froze and he just kept sitting on the floor watching it. He observed Lily and resisted the urge to reach out for her hair.

  What felt like a small eternity later Severus left the Pensieve without watching another memory. He swallowed hard when nausea roared up in him, finding himself back on the chair in his damn room. 

  When his stomach had settled he took the bottle of whisky and drank straight from it. The liquid burned its way down his throat and into his stomach. It burned away a small part of that nasty feeling accompanying him since Adia had coalesced with Hermione, revolting like a hungry beast with every glance Hermione granted him. 

  There was only a third of the whisky left in the bottle when he put it away and stumbled to his bed. Now he was definitely pissed enough to fall asleep. He wouldn't sleep through the night, that never worked when he was drunk. But he would fall asleep. And that would not have been possible being sober.

Chapter Text

  During the following days, Severus stuck to a schedule. An unhealthy one but it was a schedule. Plus it was one that kept him from losing his mind. And one that enabled him to avoid Hermione. Or her to avoid him. Something of it and all at once.

  However, he got up in the morning, more or less hungover, refreshed himself and went down to the kitchen to prepare a warm meal. Since that tended to be his only meal for the day he ate quickly when it was still warm. Hermione could heat it up for herself later, after all, she had her wand back.

  Afterwards, he forced himself to work on his theoretical studies for a few hours. Every now and then he even thought about beginning one of the experiments whose results he needed to continue his research. But the experiments interfered with his schedule and he'd had enough ideas throughout the years to be busy for the time being without any practical experiments. So he postponed them. 

  When the hour finally neared two or three o'clock in the afternoon and he once more reached the point at which he couldn't stand being trapped in this house for a single second longer he retreated to his room with a bottle of firewhisky or wine, got himself adequately pissed and fled into his Pensieve.

  It contained some memories that had happened outside – or in which he could stray away far enough to get outside without reaching the limits of the memory. It wasn't the same as really being outside; at the sea, he missed the wind, in the woods the scent of moss and in every memory a little bit of peace. But if he drank enough he could imagine what the memory wasn't able to produce. Except for peace. But all of that was better than this miserable house.

  On this day, he chose the sea and visited the house of his grandparents. There was only one memory in the Pensieve taking place at theirs. Being here had always given him strength, he'd never wanted to give up the vividness of those memories in his mind. Except for the memory of this one instance … Severus tried to take as little note as possible of the events in this memory. Instead, he gazed at the troubled North Sea that he could see through the small window next to the front door. How long hadn't he been here? A year? At least, probably more. And when he would be able to return was written in the stars. His grandmother would bite his head off.

  A sound tore him from his musings. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn't able to fully ignore what was happening around him. But he squeezed his eyes shut as if that would help.

  It was an old memory, he'd barely been twenty; even his grandfather had still been alive. Severus had Apparated straight into their hallway because he had needed help. Urgently. He heard his younger self groan and collapse behind him. Then he heard his grandmother scream.

  Severus, the present one, went outside through the closed door. He was like a ghost in these memories, physical borders didn't exist. The turmoil in the house faded.

  Still, while he approached the shore behind the house as far as the memory allowed him to go, he thought back to the day when all of this had happened. A Death Eater meeting had been raided by Aurors and until Severus had been able to reach the border of the Anti-Apparition Wards he'd been hit by several curses.

  He'd planned to Apparate with Lucius to Malfoy Manor but his subconscious had had different plans. He himself had been surprised when he'd landed at his grandparent's – and without splinching at that. A misrouted Apparition like that normally was predestined to end up splinched. But most of him had obviously been sure that he would be better off with his grandparents than with Lucius.

  His appearance had whipped them into a frenzy although all of his wounds had been superficial. Flesh wounds. Some of them had been bleeding quite heavily, though, but it had been nothing a bit of Murtlap Essence couldn't heal. But it had also been the day his grandparents got to know that he was a Death Eater.

  Severus took a deep breath and wished he could smell the sea. His grandparent's house was located near a little harbour, some boats were moored at a landing stage, rocking on the water. He remembered the faint jingling of the metal roles against the masts but it wasn't part of the memory. He closed his eyes and his mind added the missing sound.

  Behind him, his younger self uttered a short scream. His grandmother had just pressed a cloth onto one of his wounds while his grandfather had been looking for Murtlap Essence. He'd only found Dittany but it had also done the trick. Left a scar though.

  His arms folded, Severus gazed across the ocean and felt like he could finally breathe again. He closed his eyes and remembered the rushing of the water. The wind on his face. The scent of seaweed and salt and a faint hint of fish. Was there any other place to feel as free as here?

  And then the door behind him burst open. Severus groaned softly. Now, this part of the memory was next.

  “What were you even thinking?” His grandfather. “How can you associate yourself with that despot? Didn't we raise you better?”

  Severus, the grown-up, pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he walked a few steps further away from this conversation. He could still hear it, after all, he'd been loud enough when he'd screamed, “You didn't raise me! You let it happen that Father …” He'd choked on the words. “… killed her! You let Mum marry that sodden Muggle!”

  His grandfather kept silent and when Severus cast him a glance he saw pain flicker across the face of the man that he hadn't noticed back then. “Your father … will get his punishment. One way or another.”

  “Oh yeah? And how is that supposed to happen? How will he get his punishment if the bloody Ministry doesn't try Muggles and the Muggles don't investigate her death because she didn't even exist for them? How do you think he will be punished, Gramps?”

  Severus went even further away. As far as the memory let him go and that was almost down to the landing stage. The conversation softened. Once more he took a deep breath, held it and exhaled slowly. His head spun a little due to the alcohol. And when he closed his eyes he saw his mother. Then Lily. Then Hermione. Then his mother again. He shook his head.

  He should have put some other memories into the Pensieve. But how had he been supposed to know that he would ever get into a situation like this? Into a situation in which he had to use his own memories as an escape and wouldn't be able to put other memories into the Pensieve? Calmer memories. Memories that would be worthy of being called an escape.

  “No!” the voice of his younger self echoed down to him. “I won't sit back and do nothing! I won't wait until Father drops dead! I'm a Death Eater now!” What he'd added more quietly didn't reach him on the landing stage but Severus knew what he'd said, “It can't be changed anyway.”

  He sighed and touched his left forearm. He still winced when he felt the scarred skin. His skin had always been smooth, the Dark Mark had only been visible, not palpable. Now it was the other way round; it was barely visible anymore but the scars were vivid to the touch.

  And in spite of all that Lucius had done, it was still there. He had not been able to fully remove it. Severus was a Death Eater, up to this day. As he had said: It can't be changed.

  When his younger self Disapparated, the memory faded away and Severus left the Pensieve. He felt dizzy. And sick. He flushed both notions down with more firewhisky and had an early night.

  Somewhere in the course of these days that were mashed up into an indistinctive whirl, he sat at the table in the kitchen and stared at his coffee as if it could soothe his headache. Severus sighed and rubbed his temple. Why had he to pay for every single moment of relief in his life? Why wasn't he allowed to take the easy way out just for once and still be okay? Why … 

  His train of self-pitying thoughts crashed when Hermione rumbled down the stairs. They'd met on occasion during the last few days, he believed. He wasn't entirely sure. But he thought he remembered her disapproving glare. And the anger weaving through it. If he had not imagined it (and considering his current alcohol consumption he absolutely deemed that possible) then she now not only despised him because he'd had sex with Adia but also because he was constantly drunk. And she punished him by moving as loudly as humanly possible. He groaned.

  While he was clutching at his coffee like it was a lifeline, trying to wake up a little more, Hermione burst into the kitchen and slammed something down on the table, so loudly he actually flinched. “You've got mail,” she stormed and left again without missing a beat.

  Severus peered after her and frowned. She was looking as awful as she'd been looking at the beginning of her potion therapy. Shaggy hair, sloppy clothes and she smelled a bit tangy. It really wasn't up to her to look at him disapprovingly. She wasn't pleasant company these days either. Only she didn't need alcohol for it.

  He slowly moved his gaze away from the door she'd just disappeared through and took the letter. Severus had to narrow his eyes to be able to distinguish the script on the envelope. It was Filius's hand. He groaned again. To answer this one he'd better be sober. Damn it.

  When Severus woke up he was greeted by an amount of light that refused to tell him whether it was morning or evening. And much less which day of the week it was. He had not a single clue. His head was throbbing, he felt nauseous and something had died on his tongue. That was everything he knew. When he blinked it took some seconds until his vision cleared. And what he saw then was Hermione.

  She was sitting in front of his wardrobe, staring at him, her legs pulled tight against her body. His thoughts were crawling through his mind so slowly that he only belatedly realised that she must have got into his room without him noticing. He'd definitely drunk too much.

  Severus contemplated sitting up. But the turmoil in his stomach stopped him. Moving as little as possible, breathing as shallowly as possible, that was the way to go right now.

  Hermione's voice tore him from his internal survey. “I love Ron.”

  He swallowed, not an easy thing to do with a mouth as dry as his. “Bully for you,” he eventually replied hoarsely. 

  “I want to mourn him,” she said then.

  Severus arched an eyebrow. “I won't stop you.” Merlin, he felt miserable. 

  Hermione sighed. “Yes, you do. Severus, I l-”

  “Shut up!” he interrupted her testily. Pain exploded in his head and he closed his eyes. This wasn't the right time for this damn conversation. “Go away, Hermione.”

  Her voice held a strange tone when she said, “Please, let me stay just for a little while longer.”

  Severus exhaled slowly, his pulse throbbing painfully in his head. As if his bloody brain was knocking. “Close the door when you leave,” he mumbled and let himself drift back to sleep. He couldn't exist like this.

  When he woke up next Hermione was gone and he wasn't sure if she'd really been there.

  Severus spent the first thunderstorm under the dome on the terrace, not without a fresh bottle of firewhisky. The rain was drumming on the barrier, it was almost deafening. And the clouds were so dense that hardly any light reached down to him. Every now and then a lightning bolt flashed through the darkness, attesting to the sinking level of his bottle and always accompanied by a loud rumbling. He tried to imagine the smell of rain but it didn't reach him.

  When Hermione appeared beside him he closed his eyes for just a second. “How much have you been drinking?” she asked in a loud voice, outdoing the clangour of the weather.

  “Not enough,” Severus muttered without looking at her. It hadn't been nearly enough for this encounter.

  She remained standing next to him for a little while (stretching into a long), then she pulled her chair closer and sat down. So close. “I've written to Professor Dumbledore because I'm concerned about you.”

  Severus grimaced. “Out of concern? Not rather out of contempt?”

  “A little bit of both,” she admitted.

  He finally looked at her, his eyebrows raised high up his forehead. “So?”

  She pursed her lips while another thunder ripped through the air. “He said you sometimes had periods like this and it would pass.”

  Severus huffed, it was almost a laugh. Then he lifted the bottle to his mouth and drank some more. 

  “I can't help but think he really doesn't like you,” Hermione said so softly he almost didn't hear her.

  “Yeah,” he growled in a dark voice. One could get that impression. From Hermione's point of view, one could get that impression indeed. From his, however … The less Albus meddled with his problems the better. He was prone to go over Severus's head and demand things Severus wasn't ready to do. And yet he always did them. Which more often than not was the reason for his little alcohol excesses. They'd indeed always passed. This would too. Eventually.

  “I take it you finished processing your memories?” he turned to Hermione again a few minutes later.

  “What gave you that idea?” she asked. A lightning bolt illuminated her face for a split second.

  “You haven't yelled at me yet,” he dead-panned.

  She averted her gaze and bit her lip. “I could still do it if you insist.”

  “Thank you, but no thanks.” When he raised the bottle once again Hermione snatched it from him and drank herself. He watched her, his eyebrows arched. 

  When only about an inch of whisky was left she stopped, twisted her face and shuddered. “Disgusting,” she said and gave it back to him.

  “Adia would disagree.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. He gulped. Perhaps he had drunk enough for this encounter after all. He put the bottle on the ground between their chairs.

  “Do you miss her?” Hermione asked.

  Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “No,” he said. Yes, he thought. Not because he'd liked her that much. But he'd got used to her. They'd both known where they'd been standing. Hermione, on the other hand, had become a stranger to him and her anger, justified as it was, was hard for him to bear. He missed not being able to effectively avoid her. If they weren't locked up here he would have made sure that they'd never meet again.

  “Yes, me too,” she said, ending his thoughts.

  He looked up at her in surprise.

  Hermione shrugged. “You can get used to somebody even if you don't like them, can't you?”

  Severus gulped. “I think so.” For a moment, he watched the rain running down at the barrier. “Why didn't you want Adia to show herself to me?”

  She leaned her head back. “I needed her. And I knew, if you got to know that she existed you would start looking for a way to get rid of her.”

  His eyebrows twitched. She had been proved right.

  “You're right, I'm done with the therapy.”

  “So you will stop yelling at me?”

  She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. “I don't want to rule it out entirely but I don't plan to do it right now.”

  “Good.”

  Once again she worried her lip. “I'm really sorry about how I treated you the last few days. It was quite … intense.” She knitted her brows.

  He let his head fall back against the backrest. “I know.”

  “And the memory of what you and Adia have done gave me a hard time as well.”

  Severus remained silent and refused to look at her. Another lightning bolt, but the thunder followed a bit later. The thunderstorm moved on. It was also getting brighter, wasn't it?

  “I don't hate you, Severus.”

  “You should.”

  “I know. But I can't. I understand why you've done it. Give me some time and one day I'll probably even be thankful. I can't hate you anymore.” She swallowed. “And since we have to get along in here for a while to come I'm quite happy about it. The last days have been so tedious …” She brushed her hair from her face. “For both of us,” she then added.

  Severus didn't reply. And he still didn't look at her. Yes, the last days had been bloody tedious. He had a hard time believing that would change overnight. He had a hard time believing that she would be able to just shed the anger she felt for him. He'd witnessed the effect of her potions and his emotions had not disappeared. He was able to exist beside them, they didn't rob him of his sleep or drove him out of his mind anymore, but they were still there. Hers had to be as well.

  “Why didn't you obliviate me?” she inquired.

  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Because I cannot do it anymore,” he forced himself to say what he would have preferred to keep from her.

  “Why not?”

  He exhaled sharply and met her gaze. “I used my magic to counterbalance the unicorn tears you added to the Vicissitudo Virtus.”

  Hermione's eyes widened and she stared at him with her mouth ajar. “You gave up your magic?” she asked hollowly.

  “Yes.”

  She drew her fingers through her hair. “Why did you do that?”

  Severus scoffed and rubbed his eyes. “That's a bold question coming from you.”

  She returned his look blankly.

  “To somehow – partially – make up for what you've done for me,” he eventually mumbled.

  Hermione was silent for long minutes, her gaze wandering through the garden. The more the clouds above them dissolved the more he was able to see her. “Thank you,” she finally said.

  “Was the least I could do.” She'd sacrificed more for him than he for her. He would never be able to make up for it. “Do you still sense Adia?” he asked a while later.

  Hermione nodded. “Yes, quite often. Not as a separate personality but … I sense what is left of her in me. I catch myself thinking thoughts I wouldn't have thought in the past. And feeling some emotions I wouldn't have felt in the past either …” She looked at him sideways.

  Severus gulped. “The little lake of freshwater that's been Adia's emotions will soon get lost in your ocean of saltwater.”

  She put her head in her hand. “And what about your freshwater ocean?”

  While his pulse skyrocketed to pump adrenaline through his veins Severus snorted. “Adia lied, you said so yourself.”

  “Yes, I did … But Adia lied to none of us. Never.”

  Her look ripped him off the last piece of self-respect he'd tried to preserve. What did she even want from him? Couldn't she just leave it be? Couldn't she just pretend this ineffable chapter named Adia had never happened? Did she really have to poke this sore spot that was already aching? He scrunched his nose. “That's irrelevant,” he said hollowly and clenched his teeth. After all that had happened during the last weeks and months, he didn't have enough strength to think about that. He … just wanted to be left in peace for once. To breathe. To let go a little bit.

  At least she did him the favour of not stressing this topic any further. She let him. Keep silent and catch his breath. Sort through his alcohol-blurred thoughts. And she let him pick up the conversation again. “I've written the first draft of my experience with the Vicissitudo Virtus. As far as I know, you're the first to undergo a successful reversal. Would you be willing to contribute your part of the experience?”

  She nodded. “Sure. Would you give me your text?”

  “Yes.” He lapsed into silence and quarrelled with himself but then he decided to address the topic. “I worked on some theoretical potion research as well. There are a few experiments I need to run to proceed. Would you care to help me? We could combine it with your apprenticeship.”

  “Gladly.” A small smile blossomed on her face. “If your … offer regarding our cooperation is still standing I would like to take that as well.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “You already did. I optimised your therapy potions.”

  She blushed. “Right. But I'd … like to take the offer formally as well. If it still stands …”

  Severus looked at her pensively. For this kind of cooperation, they would be forced to spend a lot of time together in the lab. More compared to each of them doing their own thing. But it would also take them back to a professional level that promised a kind of stability they were in dire need of after all that had happened. If there was anything he longed for then it was stability. “Gladly,” he, therefore, echoed her word. Then he rose to his feet. “I expect you in the lab tomorrow morning, nine o'clock sharp.”

  Hermione laughed softly. “I'll be there!”

– End of part II –

Chapter Text

– Part III –
Of Hurting and Healing

- - -

No one can unring this bell,
unsound this alarm, unbreak my heart new.
God knows I am dissonance
waiting to be swiftly pulled into tune.

(Sleeping at Last - Mercury)

  It had been a long winter that lay behind Severus and Hermione. First, it had been a bit reluctant to show – they'd had about ten degrees above freezing on Christmas. But by the end of January snow had started to fall and it hadn't stopped for quite a while. It coated the dimension barrier, gliding down and piling up around it until the whole dome had been covered. They'd been swallowed by darkness. 

  In the first days, Hermione had regularly warmed up the barrier to melt the snow and see more of the sparse daylight. But that was quite an effort to do and so she'd soon limited it to a small patch helping them distinguish day from night. And after a few more days, she'd even stopped doing that and they'd lived in darkness for about a week. 

  Since the middle of March spring had slowly taken hold though. The first flowers were sticking their heads out of the ground and the sparrows greeted the change of seasons. He'd even seen the gnome now and then during the last days, resurfacing from hibernation that it'd spent buried deep down in a burrow.

  Severus relished the cool air caressing his face while he stood at the terrace door. He was watching Hermione, his arms folded. The golden rays of the sun ran across her locks, casting longer and longer shadows behind her, bathing the garden in a blend of orange and red. The crimson-coloured ball slowly sank down, gently touching the horizon, setting the sky ablaze, the dark blue of the night in its trail.

  One year.

  This day, one year ago, Hermione had lost her husband. Severus had dreaded this day, especially following the time around Christmas. Hermione had fallen into an emotional chasm he hadn't seen coming and he'd seriously doubted if she would be able to escape it ever again. It took him days to find out what had thrown her off balance. Her child. Its birth would have been due around Christmas. When she'd told him he'd sat down beside her. Close to her in that chasm and bore her company as well as he was able to. Silently.

  But this day, the 28^th of April, had passed weirdly ordinarily. She'd been quiet, a little bit absent. But that had been it. She'd always had days like this every now and then throughout the last months, just like him. Even though their memories didn't ruthlessly force themselves on them anymore, didn't tear them from their sleep at night, they were still there. It was still hard what they'd been through. It still dragged them down into an emotional pit sometimes. 

  And apparently, today's pit proved to be deeper than he'd been able to tell. After supper, Hermione had gone outside. Severus had watched her leave but he hadn't followed her. Now, however, she'd been standing on the lawn for three hours straight already, staring at the barrier of their little dimension, unmoving. 

  A deep line was etched between his eyebrows while he looked at her. They'd been very careful with each other in the last months, keeping their distance, regaining their trust on the base the new master-apprentice-situation offered them. Neither of them had stepped out of line even once, they hadn't mentioned Adia or what had occurred with her. Perhaps there wasn't even anything left that Hermione could mention. Adia's emotions had long vanished, Adia's part of Hermione's personality had long been masked by her own. 

  But he had not stopped loving Hermione.

  He had tried. Adamantly. If there was anything he didn't want for his life then it was being in love with another woman he could not have. But as long as they were trapped in this house he had no way of fighting it. And even less so without his magic. He could only lock his emotions up inside of him, hide them from her, pretend they didn't exist. But they did. When he met her in the kitchen early in the morning, when they were working in the lab, when they were talking. They were there.

  Severus sighed silently. When Albus finally let them out of here he would have a hard time letting her go. 

  After a few more minutes, Severus snapped out of his musings and went to Hermione. His arms still crossed, he stopped next to her. “You will catch a cold,” he noted.

  Hermione nodded. “Probably.”

  He looked at her and noticed two things. One: The same line between her eyebrows as between his. Two: The dried trace of a tear on her cheek. And she was shivering from the cold. “Why are you standing here, Hermione?”

  “Because I cannot stand at his grave.”

  Severus grimaced, then he silently bore her company. The minutes stretched and passed. The darkness of night sank on them and even though the cold started crawling into his limbs like a worm into an apple he didn't even think about leaving her alone.

  He didn't know how late it was when she slipped her wedding band from her finger. She held it up before her eyes, the light coming from the parlour window glistening on it. After a few seconds, she tightly closed her hand around it and raised her arms to find something at the back of her neck. He swiftly saw the necklace at the line of her black blouse and when Hermione groaned in frustration he stepped behind her and offered his help.

  When she acquiesced, Severus grasped her thick hair and pushed it aside. He twisted the necklace until he found the clasp, opened it, and held it out in front of Hermione's face. “Thank you,” she said and slid the ring onto it. Then she returned the open ends to him and Severus put them back together. 

  Hermione looked at him blankly when he went back to his spot next to her. “Is this freedom?”, she asked and rubbed her now empty finger.

  Severus shook his head. “It is not.”

  She seemed relieved and then she dropped her gaze, turned around and went back inside. He looked after her but once again, he didn't follow. Now he needed some minutes alone.

  When Severus came into the kitchen the next morning, Hermione was already busy preparing breakfast. “You're up early,” he noticed.

  “I didn't sleep,” she mumbled, clattering with the cups. Apparently, she hoped he wouldn't hear her.

  “Your decision?” Severus sat down after he'd scrutinised the table and found that nothing was missing.

  “Not sure yet.” Frowning, she reached for a slice of toast and the jar of jam.

  He poured himself some coffee and pondered what he wanted to eat himself. Finally, he chose toast as well, but he decided to butter it and eat some scrambled eggs with it. Since he could have his meals in Hermione's company and a peaceful mood he ate more regularly than ever before in his life. He'd returned to his initial weight and the clothes Albus had left here for him finally fit.

  “We could skip lessons today,” he offered and returned to their former topic. 

  “Tempting.” She smiled. “But no, I don't want to skip lessons. I've got a lot ahead of me until I can sit my Master's exam and I don't want to lose even more time.” And softer she added, “Adia already cost me enough of it.”

  A small jolt shot through him. Since their conversation on the terrace about seven months ago neither of them had mentioned her name. But suddenly she was back, standing next to the table watching her chaos unfold. He cleared his throat. “Your apprenticeship takes three years either way. And you may rest assured that I won't make a habit of this.”

  “I bet you won't,” she replied with a small grin.

  “So, no break?”

  “No break. I can handle tiredness.”

  While he helped himself with the scrambled eggs, he cast her a glance. “Is it only tiredness?”

  She knitted her brows. “What more should there be?”

  Now he regarded her openly. “This time last year was rather … busy for you.”

  Hermione swallowed and dropped her gaze. “For you as well,” she mumbled.

  That he couldn't deny. He'd repeatedly caught himself returning to Lucius's dungeon during the last few days. He didn't know any exact dates, he didn't know when they had done what to him and that made it even more difficult. There was no day between the 31^st of March and the 8^th of July he could declare safe. Everything had happened on one of these days a year ago. 

  Severus cleared his throat. “Then we will continue,” he said.

  Hermione gave him a mirthless smile. “Yes.”

  “Antiseptic solution,” he said about half an hour later and this taciturn start of the lesson reminded not only Hermione of Hogwarts. But contrary to him, it caused her to smile.

  “Antiseptic solution,” she repeated before she continued, “A liquid of a precisely measured mix of herbs that has to be briefly flamed and then soaked in alcohol. It is important to use fresh herbs for the antiseptic effect to be strong enough. Preferably they are plucked directly from the plant.”

  “What is the huge benefit of this solution compared to other antiseptic pastes?”

  “The antiseptic solution isn't based on fat. You can rinse a wound with it and the skin won't absorb any substance. So it stays more susceptible to substances that enhance the healing.”

  He nodded, visibly satisfied with the theoretical knowledge she'd picked up throughout the first months of her apprenticeship. Although, of course, she benefited from her healer training in this case. 

  He crossed the lab and approached the shelves. One was covered with a cloth and when he drew it aside, a line of small potted plants appeared. Albus had sent them only yesterday evening, along with a letter for Hermione (he thought he'd recognised Nymphadora's hand) and a letter from Filius, bearing his own name. The reply was already written, sitting on the table in his room.

  “Name the plants,” he now said.

  Hermione pointed to the right end of the line and listed, “Rosemary, thyme, kitwater, sorrel, quinceweed, and …” She paused and twisted her face, looking so adorable that Severus had to stop himself from staring at her. “Disilium,” she eventually growled the scientific term.

  He chuckled. He'd suggested for her not to use the botanical names of the plants because most of the recipes only used the colloquial names. But to his amazement, she had more difficulty learning the colloquial names than the botanical ones. “Elf's leaves,” he eventually released her. 

  She rolled her eyes. “Right.”

  He hid a grin by turning around and fetching a bell-mouthed cauldron from the wall. It had an outlet at the tip which they later would use to drain the solution, leaving the solid components behind. “Why is it common to only prepare a small amount of the solution?” he asked, putting the cauldron into a metal rack in the middle of the table, signalling Hermione to put a beaker underneath it.

  She briefly thought about his question and didn't sound exactly convinced when she replied, “Otherwise too much slag would pass into the solution and lower the quality.”

  He frowned. “The percentage of slag is the same for a small amount as for a larger one.”

  “Because …” she began anew but her voice faded.

  Severus cocked his eyebrow. “Really? You come up with slag but not with the most obvious?” He pointed at the potted plants.

  Hermione blushed but she understood. “The solution, just like its ingredients, can only be used for a short period of time. It would be a waste to prepare huge amounts of it unless you want to provide a whole hospital with it at once.”

  “You don't say,” he drawled and once again she rolled her eyes. Of everything that he associated with Adia, this was the only noticeable aspect of her personality that stuck. Severus returned to the potion. “The preparation of the solution doesn't take long and makes up for the short shelf-life. Which is about forty-eight hours, by the way.” Hermione nodded. “After flaming the herbs the alcohol has to be heated magically. Why?”

  “Because alcohol has a boiling point of 78 degrees Celsius and no natural fire burns at such a low temperature.”

  “Exactly. You have to be careful to not heat the alcohol to more than seventy degrees Celsius so the mixing ratio stays the same. That way, the preparation will take a little bit longer but the quality of the solution is significantly better.”

  Hermione helped him carry the potted plants to the lab table and together they began plucking the herbs and throwing them into the cauldron.

  Aside from completing a perfect potion, Severus liked this part of brewing the best – today even more than in the past. The major part of a potion's quality stemmed from the care you prepare the ingredients with. And since he wasn't able to work with the use of magic anymore, preparing the ingredients was the only work he could still do completely on his own. 

  For a while, he'd frequently tried to brew potions without magic but the results had either been below his expectations or the brewing had drained him more than he could justify. He'd soon stopped. But Hermione seemed to have fun doing his experiments for him and most of the time he could also use those lessons to expand her curriculum. He'd come to terms with being responsible for preparing the ingredients. 

  Only during formal lessons, he did require Hermione to participate. Doing it for her all the time would have been a pathetic display of teaching. She had to learn it and develop a routine with it. And she was doing great. When he glanced into the cauldron he couldn't tell his herbs from hers anymore.

  “That's enough,” he decided after a while. “Check the ratio.”

  Hermione snatched her wand and cast an analytic charm over the herbs. A list of them and their percentage in the mix rose in the air and Severus furrowed his brows scrutinising the results.

  “What do you think?” he then asked.

  She pursed her lips before she said, “It's missing a bit of thyme.”

  He nodded and while Hermione added said bit of thyme he went to the sink and washed his hands. “You have to be careful with flaming the herbs. They only need light contact with the fire, they must not burn. What is the purpose of it?”

  Through the rushing of the water, she replied, “The flaming is supposed to kill the pathogens on the herbs so they don't contaminate the solution.”

  “The alcohol would suffice to kill any pathogens. But then they would remain in the solution and could cause irritations. It is about eliminating them as thoroughly as possible. Why don't we just wash the herbs in alcohol beforehand?”

  “Because it would throw off the balance of ingredients?”

  “Is that a question?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “No. Washing the herbs in alcohol would throw off the balance of ingredients.”

  He smiled to himself. “Correct. And it would alter some of the herbs. Quinceweed for example doesn't react well to alcohol, it has to be handled quickly.”

  She nodded and Severus could literally see how she filed this new piece of information away with the ones she already had. “Is there a knack?” she questioned when she stepped in front of the cauldron.

  “Practice.”

  Hermione glanced at him sourly.

  Severus said nothing. To be honest, he didn't expect her to get the flaming right the first time. It required a feeling for the element to guide the flames across the surface of the leaves so lightly they didn't go up in fire. He himself had not managed it until his third try and then only because he'd been vexed about having to pluck the herbs again and again.  

  Hermione pointed her wand at the middle of the cauldron and Severus watched her summon a little flame at the tip of it. It frayed to thin threads, gliding down like small tendrils, digging through the heap of herbs. Fine billows of smoke rose from it but nothing was burning yet. Severus arched his eyebrows approvingly.

  Later, he couldn't tell if Hermione had noticed his quiet reaction to her doing and got distracted or if she just lost control; but her attention faltered for a second and the herbs ignited. A jet of flame burst up and Hermione jumped back gasping.

  “Sand!” Severus barked and pointed at a huge beaker sitting behind her on the table that he'd prepared for exactly this case. Since the herbs had now been treated with heat they were quite dry and blazing fiercely – and would continue to do so if he didn't extinguish them soon. “Hermione!” he growled when she didn't move, her gaze fixed on the calamity.

  The next moment, he felt the cool glass in his hand and tipped the sand into the cauldron. It buried the herbs and robbed the fire of the oxygen it needed. The flames died. 

  Severus exhaled sharply and waved his hand through the air to dispel the fumes. “Try it again,” he said but when he turned to Hermione he met her shocked expression. “What's wrong?”

  She shook her head, swallowed and said, “I did not give you the beaker, Severus. It flew into your hand.”

  “Stop making mountains out of gnomehills!” he grunted and the lab door banged against the wall when he ripped it open.

  “But it is a mountain, Severus!” Hermione insisted and followed him upstairs and into the parlour.

  “You don't know that!”

  “No? Don't you think I recognise magic if I see it?”

  He growled softly. “Making a beaker float through the air once can hardly be called magic.”

  “Sure, happens to my mum all the time,” she muttered and glared at him. “I don't understand why you refuse to consider it possible. Maybe your magic is returning!”

  “Magic doesn't go for a walk, Hermione.”

  “But maybe it can regenerate.” She crossed her arms.

  “Under certain circumstances, it can accumulate but not regenerate. If it is gone it stays gone. Otherwise, there wouldn't be Squibs.”

  “Squibs never had any magic, you did,” she countered stubbornly. 

  “And now I don't!”

  “The beaker flew into your hand!” She emphasised every single word and tapped her palm for good measure.

  “Blimey! We need a new holiday,” he jeered.

  Hermione groaned. “I just want to be sure, Severus. Don't you understand?”

  “No!” What if she was wrong? What if it had only been a one-time occurrence? He'd coped with losing his magic; it had been worth it, it had saved her life. But he wouldn't be able to cope with getting his hopes up only to be met with disappointment. “Why is it so important to you? You don't seem to mind giving me a hand in the lab.”

  “I don't.”

  “So?” 

  She looked at him for a long time and pursed her lips. “But if your magic regenerates I wouldn't have to feel so guilty anymore,” she finally explained and dropped her gaze.

  Severus knitted his brows. “You don't have any reason to feel guilty.”

  “Yes, I do. You brewed this potion for me.”

  “And I'll earn a pretty penny with the paper I wrote about it because every single Potions Master will give their eye teeth for it.”

  “That doesn't change anything about the fact that I cost you the ability to independently work in your own profession.”

  Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was my decision, Hermione.”

  “And I would like to do something to make up for it.”

  He huffed. “I already brewed the reversing potion to make up for at least a fraction of what you did for me. If we don't stop this it will become a never-ending circle.”

  “So?” she shrugged. “Just let me … take a glance. Please!” She stepped closer and looked at him round-eyed.

  Severus groaned. “You don't even know where to look!”

  “I'll find the way,” she dismissed his objection.

  No, she wouldn't. She was a mediocre Legilimens, she had no clue how to find something that had not been shown to her. But she looked at him like that. He hated it when she looked at him like that. He hadn't had any difficulty resisting that look in the past but now it made him happy when she was happy. And he'd noticed that he liked being happy and that he'd been all too rarely. And that … was why he now had difficulty resisting that look. 

  And today, he failed completely. “Very well,” he heard himself say.

  A smile blossomed on her face, so genuine and deep that goosebumps travelled down his spine. She pulled out her wand, caught his gaze and said, “Legilimens!”

  Severus scrunched his nose when she penetrated his mind without any resistance. That she'd asked for his permission had been pure courtesy since Occlumency was a magical technique and without magic, he wasn't able to do it. So he didn't even try to resist her presence. But he tried to clear his mind. To mediocre success. 

  Like a mole she dug through his mind, brushing memories and emotions that she wasn't meant to see. Never! “Hermione!” he snapped. “Focus!”

  “I don't do it on purpose! There is chaos here!”

  “Hardly,” he sneered. A few more memories passed his mind's eye. Moments in which he'd watched her without her noticing because she'd been so absorbed in a book or an essay. “Hermione!” he exclaimed.

  “Stop me,” she prompted him.

  Anger rose in Severus. Out of sheer habit, he did what he would have instantly done only one year ago – he threw her out.

  And took a sharp breath when he noticed that it worked.

  Hermione swayed and he grabbed her arm. She looked utterly pleased. “I knew it would work.”

  Severus's expression was blank. A muscle beneath his eye twitched. It had worked. He had to possess at least a small amount of magic. “How much?” he asked.

  “How much what?”

  “How much magic is there?”

  Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “I only caught a brief glance. And I don't know how much there had been before so -”

  “Hermione!” he interrupted her sharply.

  “A lot!” she said quickly. “Plenty. I think you only need a bit of practice.” The smile returned.

  Severus stared at her. His heart was thumping heavily in his chest, his mouth was dry. “That means …”

  She nodded. “That means you can finally show me all of what I have to learn. You can do your experiments on your own and live as you've done before. You can prove that magic can regenerate even if you give away all of it. You can write a paper on that as well and revolutionise the whole magical world with it.” Her voice cracked.

  “That's not what I mean,” Severus said impatiently.

  “Then what?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I have to write to Albus. I need a new wand.”

Chapter Text

  After Severus had placed an order for a new wand in the pantry he sat down in the kitchen and impatiently browsed through the book The Magical Potential.

  “What are you doing?” Hermione was watching him, her brows furrowed, while he drew his finger across the pages, skimming the text. She took an apple from the bowl standing on the table.

  “I'm looking for answers.”

  “I thought there was nothing in the book.”

  “No,” he mumbled absent-mindedly and read one of the paragraphs more closely. Nothing. He wrinkled his nose and turned the page.

  “Then why are you acting as if the book has lied to you?” she asked and noisily bit into her apple.

  Severus cast her a glance. “Perhaps it did lie to me.” She looked at him with confusion. “Do you think it possible that in the whole history of magic, there has never been anyone who has sacrificed his magic? There even is an incantation for it!”

  Hermione frowned. “That is strange indeed,” she admitted.

  “And yet, there's nothing in this book about the regeneration of magic.” He turned back to the text.

  She kept silent. Just continued to eat her apple.

  After a few minutes of her crunching the firm flesh of the fruit, the sound got his hackles up. He wished she would leave him alone. Not only because of the apple but because of the memories she'd seen earlier. He tried not to think about it but he felt exposed.

  And he couldn't even blame her. He'd watched significantly more memories of her last year without having her permission. It was only fair that she now had seen some of his as well, wasn't it?

  And yet he cracked his knuckles trying to tolerate her standing next to him. At least she was finally done eating her apple and disposed of the remains in the bin. He silently breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Maybe nobody ever noticed that the magic was able to regenerate. You wouldn't have noticed either without getting into that situation earlier.” 

  He lifted his gaze and looked at her pensively. “Possible,” he admitted. In the first weeks after sacrificing his magic, he'd tried to cast a spell every now and then; Hermione had eagerly lent him her wand. But when after two months nothing had happened he'd given up. All of the disappointment hadn't been worth it. He'd come to terms with living like a Muggle. Still, had really everyone who'd been in his position done the same? “But how likely is it that not one person ever noticed?” he questioned when he got to that point in his thoughts. 

  Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “How many might have even sacrificed their magic, to begin with? Maybe the incantation was used as a punishment and those affected preferred to disappear when they noticed that their magic returned instead of telling anyone. When I think about the average magically gifted person most of them would rather sacrifice their left hand than their magic.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  Hermione huffed. “Did you never notice how little the people in the magical world do without magic? Think about the Triwizard Tournament. Fred and George were desperate to put their names in the Goblet but neither of them thought about just asking an older student. They mindlessly searched for a magical way to get older.”

  “And, of course, you didn't suggest that option.”

  “Of course I didn't! That Age Line existed for a good reason.”

  He chuckled but she was right. Even he had noticed how much he'd always relied on his magic. It had never occurred to him how annoying it was to lie down in bed only to realise he'd forgotten to bring his book or to turn off the light in the bathroom. Or how extensively the chores could busy him when he wasn't able to do them magically. How frustrating a broken glass could be if it couldn't be fixed with a spell. The good thing was, that he paid more attention to what he was doing and handled things more carefully. 

  He snapped out of his musings. “I think I'll contact a few people as soon as we get out of here.”

3 ^rd of May 2002

Severus,

I'm glad to hear your magic is returning!
Mr Ollivander surrendered his business to his nephew earlier this year. I told him about you and he gave me three wands to choose from. He is still lacking the experience and the confidence that Mr Ollivander had in choosing a matching wand I assume. 
However, contrary to his uncle, Mr Goosander does not limit himself in regard to the cores he uses for his wands; I greatly regret that I will not be able to witness you trying these.

Albus

  Severus arched his eyebrows and scrutinised the three thin cases lying next to the letter on the table in the pantry. He took them to the parlour and opened the first case.

  Aspen wood, core of Veela hair, 10 ½ inches, was written on the little card that was enclosed to the almost white wand. Severus stared at it, totally lost for words. A white wand? Obviously, Albus had not told this Goosander enough about him if he thought such a wand could fit. But at least he now knew why Albus would have loved to see him try it. He scoffed and put the card back into the case before he turned to the next one.

  Pine, core of Thestral tail hair, 11 inches. Well, at least this wand was of the same wood as his first one. That it looked familiar was reason enough for Severus to favour this one. But he disliked the Thestral hair. Was it really that hard to just get another pine wand with a dragon heartstring core? That combination had worked just perfectly for him for about thirty years!

  Frowning he went on to the last case. Acacia wood, core of dragon heartstring, 12 inches. 

  “Marvellous,” he grunted. There it was, the damn dragon heartstring.

  Apparently, he'd uttered his annoyance loud enough for Hermione to hear him when she descended the stairs. She poked her head into the parlour. “What's wrong?”

  Severus nodded at the wands lying in front of him on the table. “Albus sent wands. Ollivander surrendered his business to his nephew and he experiments with wand cores. And apparently, he hasn't been a student at Hogwarts because otherwise, he wouldn't have got the idea to send me something like this.” He snidely gestured at the aspen wood wand.

  Hermione approached the table, regarded the wands and mindfully read the cards that were enclosed in the cases. She grinned when she found the aspen wood wand. “Maybe it will fit,” she said and sounded noticeably amused. “You know, opposites attract.”

  He scowled at her and she at least had the decency to purse her lips. But it wasn't sufficient to hide her grin entirely.

  “Just try them, Severus.”

  He growled softly. “Later. First, you have to write a test.”

  She gaped. “You didn't tell me!”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “And it is, of course, absolutely unlike me to let you do an unannounced test.”

  She huffed and crossed her arms. “Fine. Can I at least have breakfast first?”

  “Sure. But without books.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Naturally.” Then she looked at him again. “Will you come with me or do we meet later in the lab, Mr Veelahair?”

  “Veelahair, my arse!” Severus sneered and spontaneously decided to include the meaner questions in the test he'd initially wanted to leave out. 

  After Severus had made Hermione adequately pay for her cheek in the morning (“You can't question me on topics we haven't even covered yet!”) he retreated to his room in the afternoon. 

  He spread out a blanket on the floor and sat down cross-legged, causing the scars on his legs to strain painfully. He twisted his face, slowly tilting his head, and closed his eyes. His attention went to his inside in an instant, his breathing the focus of his attention. He calmed down and the world around him dissolved.

  After a few minutes, he focused on a spot behind his eyes. He wanted to penetrate his own mind which sounded as strange as it felt. Now that his magic seemed to be back he should be able to do it, though. When he'd started practising Legilimency and Occlumency he'd needed weeks to accomplish it the first time. Afterwards, Albus had questioned him why he hadn't asked for help. “It is easier to find the way when there is someone to guide you.” But the fact was that Severus would have rather never found the way than let someone into his mind voluntarily. At least back then. 

  By now he knew how it worked. The unpleasant sensation of doing a backflip overcame him quickly and then memories, thoughts and emotions unfurled in front of him, absolutely unguarded. As familiar as all of this should have been for him, it felt completely alien from this point of view.

  He didn't bother looking at his own mind, though. Instead, he turned to where the core of his magic was supposed to be.

  The view caused a fuzzy feeling in his stomach. It was back indeed. Not as much as there had been but things could always improve, time would tell. And even if it would stay as it was now – for brewing potions and some small charms and spells here and there it would suffice. 

  Severus went into this core of his power and felt how it infused him. Felt how the magic pulsed in his body. The fine hairs on his arms and at his neck stood on end, his skin crawled, he felt warm. Very warm.

  The feeling got more intense the longer he stayed there. He unleashed what his mind had given back to him. Magic was never only in the mind, it ran through the whole body. With children, it started flowing on its own accord and it took years until it did consistently, thus all the magical outbreaks. But there was a quicker way. He just had to remind his magic and his body that they belonged together. That they were a unit. 

  The climax of this association was a climax in more than one way. It felt like an orgasm, in fact, like the best bloody orgasm he'd ever had. Severus gasped and bit his tongue to not groan loudly. He might have closed the door behind him but after Hermione had seen some of his memories he wasn't keen on her hearing such noises coming from his room. 

  When the emotions slowly subsided Severus first left the pool of his magic and then his mind. He blinked panting. His heart pounded so fiercely he could sense it in his skull and when he glanced down he noticed a stain on his crotch that he hadn't seen there since his youth. “Oh well …”

  Then there was a rap on the door and he flinched. “Severus?”

  He closed his eyes and put his forehead in his hand. “What?” he growled.

  “Is everything all right?”

  He jerked his head around. “Why shouldn't everything be alright?” Did she still hear him?

  “I … There … Something was … odd just now. The air felt … staticky. Or something like that …” Her voice faded momentarily. “Whatever it has been, it came from your room. Are you okay?”

  He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. Good, she'd only sensed the magic and had not heard him. Very good. “Yes, I'm okay.” More than. “I … will explain later.”

  “Okay,” she said slowly and then he heard her descend the stairs.

  Severus rubbed his face. The echo of his orgasm had faded and he rose. Again, his scars hurt, this time because he forced them back into their usual position. He had to put some lotion on them soon to make them softer.

  But first, he had to clean himself and put on fresh clothes.

  Hermione brooded over a textbook on calculating the right amount of ingredients in potion development when Severus came into the parlour. She seemed a bit relieved when he gave her a reason to put the book aside. “Difficult read,” he said and nodded at the book.

  “Indeed. My head is spinning.” She rubbed her forehead. “But I'm beginning to understand why my developments had some teething problems.”

  He didn't reply. She would have a lot of fun gauging the right amounts of ingredients in the future and these calculations only were the tip of the iceberg. But now, Severus sat down in the armchair. The wands were still lying on the table where he had left them earlier and he regarded them with a frown.

  “So, what was that odd sensation earlier?” she eventually asked.

  He raised his eyes. “Magic.”

  “You don't say!” She cocked an eyebrow.

  “You didn't seem to know what it was,” he reminded her in a dark voice.

  “I had some time to think about it.”

  “Then why do you ask?”

  “Because I struggle to understand how someone who has barely got his magic back can flood a whole house with it.” She widely gestured through the parlour.

  Severus hid a grin behind his hand. “By diving directly into it,” he said softly. And when Hermione took a deep breath to ask the next question (a question that would be too personal to answer, it was written all over her face), he added, “I'll show you another time.” A small part of him actually hoped she would forget about it but he knew that wouldn't happen. Maybe he could put it off until he could let Albus deal with it. If not … well, then he definitely would have to tell her in advance what consequences this diving in would have. 

  But for now, she closed her mouth and only glared at him. “I hate it when you do that.”

  “When I do what?”

  “Withholding knowledge from me.”

  “You're exaggerating,” he said silkily. “Relevant in what I've done earlier is not the effect you sensed but the point of it. Magic needs to flow through the body. But my magic was mostly restricted to my mind. I got it flowing again and, therefore, I can now deal with these.” He pointed at the wands.

  His explanation seemed to soothe her. “Fine. But someday I want to know more about this diving in!”

  “Naturally,” he sighed. “So, may I?”

  She gestured at the wands. “Gladly. Start with the aspen wood one!”

  He narrowed his eyes. “If it fits me best you will never give me any peace about it, will you?”

  “Never,” she grinned and crossed her arms.

  Severus grumbled softly. What had happened that she was so cheeky towards him now? And why did he allow her to be? Ah, right. Adia. Adia had happened. He shoved the thought aside and reached for the aspen wood wand with the Veela hair core. Closing his eyes for a second, he sent a quick prayer to Merlin, Salazar Slytherin, Circe, or whoever was willing to listen to him. Not – this – wand – please!

  He swished it through the air and one of the sofa cushions exploded. Hermione shrieked in surprise, even he himself was startled. 

  “Thank Merlin,” he sighed when he'd recovered and put the wand back into its case.

  “Pity,” Hermione mumbled at the same time and scrutinised the cushion that was now barely more than a heap of white feathers spread out across the settee, the table, the floor and her lap. She snatched her wand, touched a piece of the burned pillowcase, and said, “Reparo!” The feathers floated up in the air and accumulated above the pillowcase that was weaved anew by invisible hands. Eventually, it fell back into its place. 

  “Exceeds Expectations,” Severus said.

  “What?” she asked indignantly. “That was an Outstanding!”

  He cocked an eyebrow, reached down to the ground beside him and raised a single white feather. “Exceeds Expectations,” he repeated.

  She huffed but did not object.

  Severus eyed the other two wands. He was itching to take the pine wand. It looked so familiar and well-known. But he reached for the acacia wand and swayed it as well. This time, nothing exploded. That was an improvement. But there weren't any sparks emitting from the tip either.

  “Not convincing,” Hermione said and wrinkled her nose.

  Severus put it back and took the last wand. He felt it instantly, the tingling in his hand. It even spread up his forearm. “That's it,” he said with a triumphant smile and gave the wand a flick. Silver sparks shot from the tip and dissolved shortly above the tabletop. 

  Hermione nodded appraisingly. “So, Thestral hair.”

  A muscle on the bridge of his nose twitched. “Apparently,” he growled. And as much as he detested it – he had to admit that this wand suited him almost better than his first wand with the dragon heartstring. Thestral hair … He huffed.

  Then he met Hermione's gaze and a small jolt shot through him. She looked at him so openly, so lost in thoughts, almost as if … as if she was looking into him. He frowned. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She blinked and nodded. “Yeah, everything's fine.” Smiling. “I'll leave you and your new wand alone.” Then she rose and left the parlour. She didn't even take the book with her.

  In the following days, Severus spent most of his time aside from Hermione's lessons getting used to his new wand and practising to perform magic again. Fortunately, he didn't have to learn everything from scratch; he knew how he needed to move the wand to get the desired result – he just had to convince his magic to cooperate with him again.

  It was annoying at first. Exhausting and unrewarding. He spoke spells out loud he'd perfectly mastered non-verbally in the past and yet he didn't get the result he was used to. He got a headache after a while and forced himself to let it be.

  But given time it got better. Slowly, steadily. Surely it would take a while until he would get back to his former level of mastery but he knew that he would someday get back there. And until then he would do what Hermione had mentioned in such a derogatory way the other day: Using magic for every little task in his life. Only to get more practice, of course.

  About a week after he'd got his new wand, Albus finally decided to send a Daily Prophet with their groceries once again. “Anything interesting?” Hermione inquired when she came into the kitchen and sat down opposite him. Yawning she poured herself some coffee.

  Severus arched an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I understand why he's doing it but I'm still annoyed.”

  “Yes,” he said and folded the paper back up, “as am I.”

  The only paper Albus sent regularly was the Potio but it never covered news about the situation in the magical world. He systematically withheld relevant information from them. Severus was equal parts grateful and bugged by it; he wanted to know what was happening outside. And yet he didn't want to know because he couldn't do anything about it.

  The only hints they got now and then were some potion orders from Albus. Once every Preston Guild he needed a potion the new professor for potions wasn't able to brew and he then asked Severus instead. The first time he'd found such an order in the pantry Severus had asked him whether he'd forgotten that he couldn't use magic anymore. How was he supposed to brew a complex potion like Veritaserum under those circumstances? But apparently, the Veritaserum Hermione had brewed under his watchful eyes and barked instructions had still been better than what his successor had managed.

  Anyway, so far it had only happened twice that Albus had ordered a potion from them. First, the Veritaserum that he'd doubtlessly needed to interrogate a captive. But Albus hadn't told him whom he'd got hold of or what they'd got to know from them. The second time it had been a complex invisibility potion – but they neither got to know whether the mission it had been meant for had succeeded or not.

  After he'd been on the frontlines of the war for more than eighteen years he had a hard time knowing absolutely nothing anymore.

  Hermione tore him from his musings. “I'm done with the essay.”

  He had to sort his thoughts to remember what she was talking about. “Good. How many rolls of parchment is it?”

  She blushed. “Three.”

  Severus groaned. “How are you even able to write three rolls of parchment about preparing an ointment, Hermione?”

  “In my defense: It is one of my own developments! I had to explain everything. Each ingredient, each measurement, each step of the recipe. I really couldn't do that in less than three rolls!”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “And if I kept every piece of parchment in this house under lock and key – you would simply write the rest of it on the walls, wouldn't you?”

  She smiled. “Yes. And you would read it.”

  He snorted. “Hardly. When you return too many rolls the next time you will decide which one I will burn right before your eyes.”

  She gasped for air. “You wouldn't do that!”

  He regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Watch me!”

  “Sadist!” she breathed.

  He shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of his coffee. “You have to learn to apply Occam's razor. No editor will read such a long paper on an ointment, not even if it was able to revive the dead.”

  She briefly looked down at her hands. “All right, I will stick to your terms the next time,” she then mumbled dully.

  “Good. And this time, I will read every single word of your essay.” And he would probably even do it interestedly. Hermione's developments had got better in the last few months. He found fewer issues he could optimise. It was a pleasure watching this process.

  But she didn't need to know that, did she?

Chapter Text

  Severus had been right: The essay was interesting.

  And equally tedious.

  He rubbed his forehead when he spread the third roll of parchment on the table only to be confronted with the next block of script. Hermione wrote neatly but very small. She divided her text into paragraphs but they were long. And she explained everything as if he had never worked at a bloody cauldron before!

  Severus used a new piece of parchment to note down his remarks. To which passage exactly they referred she could find out by herself. 

  When he reached the end he had a headache and at the same time, he was satisfied. At least that was an improvement to her school years. He took the four rolls of parchment and went downstairs. Most of the time Hermione could be found in the parlour since the big dining table they'd never used for dinner almost provided her with enough space for her myriad of books. Almost. He imagined how he would shove all of them aside to slam her essay down right in front of her. Yes, it had been interesting but he also had a fucking headache and she would suffer as much as he did!

  But today she wasn't sitting at the dining table.

  Severus suspected something was odd even as he went downstairs, noticing an eerie light spill into the hall. He knew the lamps in the parlour, this light was different. Knitting his brows, he approached the door.

  It was hovering in the air, this light. And it had a shape. It was so bright that he had a hard time making it out at first but after his eyes had got used to it, it was clear to see: images. Images made out of light. Ginevra laughing and leaning against Potter. A middle-aged man and woman Severus didn't know, but seeing the hair of the woman he would bet that they were Hermione's parents. Ronald Weasley looking so directly at the observer that Severus thought that they might be actual memories rather than simple images.

  He cleared his throat and Hermione, sitting on the settee, glanced at him. She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. And to his surprise, the images didn't disappear. Instead, she moved over a bit.

  He briefly looked down, then back up to the image of Ronald Weasley. Something clenched in his chest but he swallowed it down and went to her. After he'd put the rolls of parchment on the table he sat down alongside her and looked at her. The light painted her facial features soft. Again, he swallowed. “What is this?” he asked when he trusted his voice again.

  Hermione sighed. “Adia did something like this,” she softly replied. “When she'd … bottled up too much magic she was able to do this with her hands. I always liked it. But I do need my wand.” She grinned at him lop-sided. 

  Severus resisted the urge to look up again. He didn't want to see the images. They showed him exactly who Hermione was, as plain as it could be. What friends she had, who her family was, what was important to her. He didn't fit in there. He knew all of that but he didn't want to see it. So he looked at Hermione. And when he couldn't bear that anymore either he stared down at his hands.

  At long last, the light faded and Hermione lit the ceiling lamp. “Sorry, you didn't come here to watch that.”

  Once again, Severus cleared his throat. “No.” He tried to remember why he'd come here. The essay, right. He'd wanted to slam it down in front of her. But the moment had passed. He ran his hand across his mouth.

  “You read the essay?” Hermione prompted.

  He nodded. “Yes.” He pulled back his shoulders. “You do know what an essay is, don't you?” he asked and arched an eyebrow. Yes, that was better.

  “I think so,” she replied anxiously.

  “It is characterised by both lightness and thematic brevity. It should present a topic precisely and transparently.”

  “This is precise!” Hermione cut in but a blush crawled up her face. 

  “Too precise to be transparent! And neither light nor brief,” Severus objected. “I've got a headache reading this, Hermione.”

  “I'm sorry?”

  He huffed. “The essay is good in terms of content, your ointment sounds promising and your progress is noticeable. But you won't convince anyone presenting it like this.”

  She sighed. “How can I improve?” she then asked.

  Severus reached for the first roll of parchment. On it, she'd meticulously spelled out the concept of her development (an ointment that was supposed to turn scar tissue into unmarred skin), and listed and explained the ingredients. “Leave out the explanation of the ingredients. You spent a whole paragraph on willow grass, that is unnecessary.”

  “But I,” she interrupted him – and lapsed into silence when she noticed his glare. Only when he rolled his eyes she proceeded, “I had to explain why I used willow grass and not bitter smartweed.”

  “No,” he simply said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you are no longer a third-year student but a future Potions Mistress. Nobody wants to know if you understand the differences between the plants anymore. And everybody knows why you use willow grass. An explanation would have only been necessary if you had preferred bitter smartweed because that would need a damn good reason.”

  She nodded slowly. “Okay. What else?”

  “Leave out the unnecessary explanations in general. Nobody reading such essays wonders why you put up the cauldron twelve inches above the fire instead of ten.”

  She frowned. “How do I know which explanations are unnecessary?”

  He looked at her. “Imagine you explain it to me. When I arch an eyebrow it is unnecessary.”

  She bit her lip. “That is helpful.”

  “I hope so,” he said and returned to the parchment before she could notice his smile. “And leave out the filler words, that will save you another half-roll and spare my patience.”

  “Okay.”

  “If you follow all of this …” He drew his wand from his sleeve and moved it in a circle over the rolls. They started to glow and one of them dissolved. “… then you will end up with the one and a half rolls of parchment I demanded.” He showed her the parchment in his hand saying the same as before – only reduced to the essentials. 

  Hermione looked up from the parchment. “You're getting better,” she observed.

  “Naturally.” He held her gaze and allowed himself to savour the warm fuzzy feeling it caused for a second or two. “And regarding the ointment,” he eventually snapped out of that moment, “I made a few changes to the amounts of the ingredients. I want you to prepare it that way.”

  “Changes?” she asked and took the parchment from his hand. “But that's not right,” she said after she'd skimmed it. “I calculated everything. Multiple times! The amounts I had were right.” She sounded almost desperate and considering the brick of a book she'd struggled with the other day he could even understand it. 

  “The calculations aren't perfect, Hermione. Potions don't follow strict mathematical rules.”

  She slumped. “And how am I supposed to know the right ratio? I can't run a whole bunch of experiments every time.”

  “Experience. You will concoct reasonable potions and ointments with the calculations and given time you will learn to make them into perfect potions and ointments. If we weren't so short on ingredients in here and if Albus wouldn't have to wage a war I would let you run your own experiments. But as it is … I hope you will gain experience this way as well.”

  She sighed. “I will. Thank you!”

  He nodded. “Aside from that, we are partners. It is only fair that I do my part in this work as well.”

  Hermione smiled and looked down at the recipe, once again biting her lip. “Severus, may I … try the ointment on your scars?”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. He'd expected this question. “Why don't you try it on yours?” His gaze wandered up to the white line at her hairline, then back down to the fine scars on her wrists. The scars that still made him nervous when he saw them.

  “I will! But your scars are …” Her voice faded.

  “Touché,” he said hollowly. His scars were big and padded or deep and retracted. His scars were a whole different matter. They were perfect to put this ointment to the test. But agreeing to it would mean having to get close to her. Very close. Closer than ever during the last eight months. And still, he nodded. “You may try it on my scars.”

  For her beaming face alone it was worth it. “Thank you!”

  It took three days until the ointment was ready. Severus examined it thoroughly before letting Hermione treat her own scars with it. Not that he expected any fatal side effects or preparation errors but he wanted to be on the safe side.

  The consistency was as he had expected it to be based on the theory. It was smoothly spreadable, bore no clots, settled quickly and didn't leave a greasy film. It even had a pleasant scent; Hermione had mixed some drops of citrus oil in it after it had been finished. And when he dabbed it onto one of his smaller scars stemming from cuts and burns caused by his work he saw its effect. The scar got thinner, softer and slightly melted into the intact skin surrounding it. It didn't disappear completely, that would need repeated treatments, but it worked.

  Severus nodded, satisfied with the result. He could let her treat her scars with it. And his. A muscle on the bridge of his nose twitched.

  He'd avoided touching Hermione after the miserable affair with Adia. Or to be touched by her. He was her teacher once again, it was just out of place. Not that the guild would disallow a relationship of any kind whatsoever between apprentices and masters; Severus wasn't the one who would conduct Hermione's examination and there was nobody he could favour her over. But it had made matters easier, returning to how things had been between them when they'd been at Hogwarts. Letting her tend to his scars would unsettle this arrangement. 

  Severus ran his hand across his face. When she'd tended to his wounds last year her closeness had been unpleasant because it had summoned the memories of his captivity. Now it would be unpleasant because it would awaken his desire for more closeness. 

  He put that thought aside sighing and went downstairs. Hermione was sitting on the terrace; today, for the first time this year, it was sunny and warm enough to go outside without a jacket. Quite late in the middle of May considering the greenhouse effect of the dome. “You may work with it,” he said and held the jar in front of her face.

  Hermione was startled; obviously, she hadn't heard him coming. But she recovered quickly and looked up at him excitedly. “On my scars or yours?”

  “First on yours, then on mine.” He held her gaze. He could do it, she wouldn't notice anything.

  She took the jar, scrambled out of her chair and hurried inside. Putting the jar on the dining table, she headed upstairs and returned with a mirror. Severus sat down opposite her and watched her spreading a small amount of the ointment on the scar at her hairline. Her eyes grew wide when she noticed the effect. “That's amazing!” she breathed.

  He smiled. “It is your development.”

  She glanced at him over the mirror. “And yours.”

  “My part in it is negligible.”

  “No, it is not.” She gifted him with a smile, then she touched her scar again. “But it will take more than one treatment to make it disappear completely.”

  “A second might be enough.”

  “Probably, with scars like this,” she responded carefully.

  Severus lowered his eyes. Yes, his scars would need multiple treatments. Maybe they would never disappear completely. Maybe the ointment had its limits. “We will see,” he said.

  Hermione put the mirror aside and massaged another small amount of the ointment into the skin on her wrists as well. She sighed softly when the scars got thinner. Severus could empathise with her. An echo of the past that disappeared. Eventually, she shook her head and looked up at him. “On which scars do you want to try it?”

  He'd thought about it. The most unpleasant scars were the ones on his legs but he would tend to them himself. He didn't want to pull off his trousers in front of her. But he neither wanted to cut her out of seeing her ointment work on such grave scars. “The ones on my back,” he, therefore, decided. So he wouldn't have to look at her and after all, she'd already seen his naked back. 

  She nodded, suddenly seemed nervous. Severus stood to take off his white shirt. Then he turned the chair around and sat down so that he could put his arms on the backrest. His hair had grown long during the last months; he swept it over his shoulder and told himself to cut it later. 

  Hermione stepped behind him and began to spread the ointment on his scars. Her fingers were cool on his skin but he mainly sensed it when she touched the few patches of unscathed skin between the scars. The scars themselves were mostly numb to the touch.

  “So?”, he asked when she'd been quiet for quite some time.

  “Sorry! It works! Very well, in fact. The scar tissue gets softer and wanes … It's helping.”

  Severus nodded. He felt a soft tingling on his skin. And he felt Hermione's nervousness. “Is everything all right?” he asked in a dark voice.

  She took a deep breath. “Yeah, everything's fine.”

  He arched his eyebrows but he didn't say anything. He even felt her fingers tremble and frowned. He hadn't anticipated that she would have a harder time with all of this than him. Was it really that uncomfortable for her to touch him? “I can proceed by myself,” he offered.

  “What? Why? Am I doing it wrong?”

  His frown grew deeper. “What could you possibly do wrong with applying an ointment?” he inquired and cast her a glance over his shoulder.

  “Why do you want to do it on your own then? It's easier this way.”

  Now he turned around enough to be able to look at her. “Because you are obviously uncomfortable.”

  She blushed and dropped her eyes. “No, I …” She pursed her lips. “Turn around, I'm not finished yet,” she then added softly and he did, albeit hesitantly. 

  Severus put his chin onto his crossed arms and waited. Something was troubling her. And if there was one thing he'd learned throughout the last months then that he only had to wait. Hermione wasn't good with dropping a matter.

  And he proved to be right, “Do you remember this … conversation we had … last year?” Her voice sounded odd.

  “We had a lot of conversations last year,” Severus replied and knitted his brows.

  He could even hear her rolling her eyes. “The one on the terrace.” Before he could remind her that they also had a lot of conversations on the terrace, she specified, “The one during the thunderstorm.”

  A jolt shot through his body, his fingers clenching around the wood of the backrest. That conversation. Of course. “Yes,” he gulped through the pounding of his heart.

  He saw her nod from the corner of his eye. “How you said,” she went on, her voice trembling, while she took some more ointment from the jar and spread it onto the next scars. “How you said the … small lake of freshwater that … has been Adia's emotions … would soon get lost in my ocean?” She stilled, her cool fingers laying on the middle of his back.

  His body hummed. “Yes,” he said and now his voice sounded odd as well.

  Hermione kept silent for what felt like forever. Then she said, “I still have a freshwater ocean.” So softly he could barely understand her.

  Severus closed his eyes. He felt like the parlour was swaying. He hadn't seen that coming. He hadn't been prepared for this. Freshwater. Saltwater. Ocean. The words spun in his head. Freshwater. Freshwater. Did she really mean what he'd meant back then? Were they talking about the same freshwater?

  “Severus?”

  “Yes,” he mumbled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I heard you.” The seconds dragged along. Say something! But what? He must have taken what she'd said the wrong way. There was … no way that … He should ask her what exactly she'd meant.

  And then her fingers started moving again.

  Severus leaped to his feet without making a conscious decision. He stared at her wide-eyed. She stared back. And then he left. Without saying a word.

  He hadn't even taken his shirt with him.

  And not only that, but he'd also needed about fifteen minutes to notice that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Since he'd spent these fifteen minutes in his room it wasn't a problem but it was rather concerning.

  Freshwater.

  Bloody metaphor! Why hadn't he just said what he had meant last year? It was obvious that she would misunderstand him! She couldn't possibly mean … No. The notion itself was ludicrous. 

  Severus stopped in the middle of his room, breathing heavily. She couldn't mean … that.

  Right?

  He went to the bathroom and cooled his face. Then he looked at himself in the mirror over the sink. His face was gaunt, pale, almost grey. Pointy chin, an enormously hooked nose. Which he wrinkled now. Hermione couldn't mean what she had said. He wasn't right for her. He didn't fit into her life. Even if she believed to have this kind of feelings for him then only because she had no alternatives and longed for intimacy in this damn house. 

  It drove them both crazy!

  When Albus got them out of here, at the latest, she would realise that all of this had been a wrong conclusion. She was young. She'd lost the man she'd loved. And her child. She'd sacrificed an awful lot to save his life. And then Severus had saved her life. Under these circumstances, it was reasonable that she imagined having feelings that … at least wouldn't be permanent.

  He braced himself on the edge of the sink and only when he saw his scarred forearm he realised that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Only then. He closed his eyes.

  What was he supposed to do now? They had to clear this up. Hermione had to understand that … She had to understand. 

  So he dressed and went back downstairs. But Hermione was no longer in the parlour. She was standing outside on the lawn, her arms enveloped around herself, looking at the barrier. Just like two weeks ago. On the day of her husband's death.

  She just had to understand that … 

  Severus straightened and went to her. Hermione flinched barely noticeably when he appeared next to her. “What you believe to feel is not real,” he said, his mouth pinched. 

  She looked at him, somehow tiredly. “What gives you that idea?”

  He cast her a glance. “You yourself said that Adia makes you feel … feel emotions you wouldn't have felt before.”

  She nodded. “So?”

  Now he glared at her. “Isn't it obvious? It is not real!”

  She barked a mirthless laugh and ran her hand across her mouth. “How long do I have to feel something until it gets real then?”

  He crossed his arms, a muscle beneath his eye twitched. “That's not the point,” he grunted.

  “Then what is?”

  “That you would never have developed such feelings!” he insisted. “It is … Adia and … this house! As soon as we get out of here you will see how ludicrous all of this is! As soon as we get out of here -” He broke off.

  “… I will stop loving you?”

  “Don't say it!” he hissed.

  Tears welled in her eyes. “Why not, Severus? It's been eight months since Adia merged with me! Eight months! You said her emotions would soon get lost in mine but they didn't! On the contrary, they grew stronger and stronger. And since Adia doesn't exist in me anymore it has to be … it has to be my emotions.” She gulped and her breath hitched when she inhaled and added, “I have feelings for you, Severus.”

  He exhaled sharply and turned his face away from her. “If it isn't Adia, it is this situation. You will … stop feeling that way when Albus -”

  “Yes, I probably will!” she cut in boldly. And when he looked at her she proceeded in a quieter tone, “Sooner or later you just stop having feelings for someone that isn't part of your life anymore.” She swallowed. “When Professor Dumbledore gets us out of here and you … go away and refuse to ever see me again … then I will one day stop being in love with you. Otherwise …” She shrugged her shoulders.

  Breathing was hard. As if he was standing in a vacuum. It tore him in all directions. He wanted to believe her. He just wanted to believe that her feelings were real. Kiss her, hold her in his arms and really believe that this wasn't just a phase or imagination. But his wit dragged him the opposite way. That would not happen. So he just stood there. His arms crossed, exactly like hers. They'd both built up their walls. “What do you want from … me?” he asked hollowly and scrunched his nose.

  “A chance.” He could see the pulse flutter on her neck. “I know that you … have feelings for me as well. Adia sensed it. And I saw it in your memories.”

  He averted his gaze. Bloody Legilimency.

  “Severus.”

  Reluctantly he looked back at her.

  “Just give me a chance.”

Chapter Text

  Being the proper British citizens they were, the next thing they did was sit down across from each other and have a cup of tea. If in doubt, drink tea. Severus furrowed his brows staring into his cup, the hot steam licking his face. 

  He still owed her an answer. A decision. She wanted a chance. He huffed softly which caused her to look up at him startled. He waved her off. To her, it was only a chance. But of course, if it wouldn't work out she wouldn't be the one who … 

  He wrinkled his nose. A chance … What a chance did they even have? She and … and him. Should he really risk it?

  Looking for certainties and guaranties in matters of feelings was pointless, that much he knew. Each failed marriage, each broken promise testified to it. That was why he'd promised himself to never love anyone again after Lily. He wasn't the type of person to simply stop loving. If he loved it was forever. Even Lily he would love forever and he didn't want more of that in his life. Never again. It wasn't worth it. 

  Right?

  He carefully raised his eyes. Hermione was staring into her cup. Her hair, these untamed brown locks, framed her face like a lion's mane. She looked pale. And sad. Something clenched in Severus's chest and he looked away again.

  “Why me?” he asked after what felt like an eternity of silence.

  Hermione jerked her head up and stared at him round-eyed. For a few seconds, she was the deer caught in a headlight. She was completely lost for words, almost shocked. That wasn't the effect he was supposed to have on her. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose.

  And that seemed to snap her out of her shock. She cleared her throat. “I … always had strong feelings for you.”

  He arched an eyebrow.

  “First anger,” she went on undeterred. “I thought it disgusting how you treated us at Hogwarts. Later curiosity. I wondered why Professor Dumbledore had this unwavering trust in you. Then admiration …” Her voice faded.

  He exhaled sharply. “And now love?” It sounded more derisive than he meant it.

  She looked at him. Openly and vulnerably and nodded. He could hardly bear seeing this honesty on her face. She was so young … And he … He dropped his gaze.

  “What about Weasley?”, he muttered.

  “What about him?”, she asked in a breathy voice and reached for her elbow as if to shield herself from his next words. 

  “Would you also love me if he was still alive?” Wow, that was … below the belt, even for him. A muscle beneath his eye twitched. 

  Hermione took a deep breath. “No.”

  He pursed his lips and nodded.

  “But Ron is dead.” She quickly wiped her eyes. “Does that make my feelings for you worth less?”

  Marvellous. He'd made her cry. Here was this woman, carrying her heart on her sleeve, and he had nothing better to do than … this. Severus closed his eyes. “I apologise,” he mumbled barely audibly. 

  Hermione kept silent. The clock ticked softly, the tea got cold. “You are right to blame our situation,” she said a while later.

  “Am I?” He was talking to his cup.

  “Here I was able to get to know you as I could never have anywhere else.” He looked at her. “The more I learn about you the more I understand why you are like you are.” She laughed mirthlessly. “I even understand why we're having this conversation although … it is really hard.” Once more she wiped her eyes. “You're right. If Ron were still alive I never would have fallen in love with you. But if I had looked for Trevor in another compartment of the Hogwarts Express on my first ride to Hogwarts I probably would have never fallen in love with Ron either because I … probably would have been killed by a mountain troll in the girl's lavatory if Harry and Ron wouldn't have gone looking for me.”

  He snorted softly and felt a tired smile tug on the corners of his mouth. 

  “I would have never fallen in love with you if we hadn't been locked up in here for that long. But we are. And I did fall in love with you.” She raised her chin. “And now it's your turn, Severus Snape. I think you're feeling the same way for me and if I am right I'm asking you for a chance. Although I'm almost twenty years your junior and a lousy chess player. And a slob whose papers are all over the place and unable to write brief essays for the life of me. Although I explain everything I know to everyone who's reading or listening long enough even if they already know it. Although I'm … broken and have scars and sore spots and nightmares … I'm asking you for a chance.”

  Severus stared at her. Now he was the deer caught in the headlights and he was completely lost for words, almost shocked. And before he could snap out of his shock Hermione rose and was about to walk past him. But something in him still worked and he reached for her hand. 

  This feeling … her skin touching his own. Her small, lean, cold fingers under his long, thin ones. She gasped for air, he held his breath. His eyes travelled up to her face and when their gazes met he nodded hardly noticeably.

  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Once again, tears welled in her eyes. But she reciprocated his grip. Her small, lean, cold fingers were astonishingly strong. She turned them around and laced them between his. Involuntarily he thought of Adia and he knew that she did too. That she only did it because of Adia. Because she wanted to know how it felt when she was the one doing it. Because Adia was still there and still a part of her. Because she remembered intimacy with him she hadn't experienced herself.

  Severus's mouth went dry. He tried to swallow but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He hoped that she wouldn't want to kiss him right now. That would be too much. Only holding her hand was almost more than he could bear. Holding it and being aware of his feelings for her. That was more than Adia had ever got from him.

  Hermione raised her free hand and pushed the hair from his face. The backside of her fingers touched his temple. “I like them this long,” she whispered.

  Severus gulped. He finally could.

  Then she suddenly let him go. “Take your time, Severus. You're looking as if … you're about to faint or something. Take your time. We've got it.” And then she left.

  He slumped a little, finally exhaling the breath he'd been holding. Had he really just …? Did she really want …? He looked at his hand. The one he'd held hers with. And snorted. She liked his hair? What the hell …

  Severus had gone into the lab after the conversation in the kitchen. It was already getting dark outside but he needed the clarity of potions, the structure and the security he found in them. That was another thing. If tea doesn't help brew potions. And down here he found the equilibrium he'd lost this afternoon when Hermione had told him about her freshwater ocean.

  Freshwater. He shook his head. But he smiled. He didn't even stop when he got aware of it. This was … he sighed. 

  Severus returned to the recipe of Hermione's ointment. How many Shrivelfigs went into it? He rubbed his forehead. The jar with the batch Hermione had brewed wasn't empty yet, almost full even, but he wanted to send a jar to Albus as well. By now, knee-deep into the war, there probably were a lot of scars their bearers could live without. It was the only thing they could contribute. 

  He needed almost two hours to set up the ointment. Then it went into a phase of rest and he wouldn't need to tend to it until the next morning. After he'd tidied up and extinguished the lights he walked up the stairs. It was dark and quiet on the ground floor. He cast a glance at the clock in the kitchen. Half past midnight. 

  But when he went upstairs he saw light seeping from underneath Hermione's door. Very soft, slightly flickering light he wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been pitch-dark in the hallway. He stopped and stared at the bright stripe above the ground. During the last hours, he'd so much immersed himself in brewing the ointment that the thought of Hermione had taken a backseat. Now everything rushed back to him and his heart skipped a beat. 

  Should he go to her? Was that okay? Was that something she would want him to do? Was that part of the chance she wanted to have with him?

  Did he want to go to her?

  Well, at least the last question he could answer. Yes. Yes, he wanted to go to her. He wanted to look her in the eyes and make sure that the conversation earlier had indeed happened. That he hadn't imagined it. He wanted to see her face and find the same expression in it that he'd seen back down in the kitchen. 

  Severus gulped, then he straightened his posture and softly rapped at her door. Maybe she was already asleep. Maybe she'd only forgotten to blow out the candle.

  But she called him in.

  He opened the door and when she saw him that smile blossomed on her face once again. That smile that wasn't only on her lips but on her whole face. That made her eyes shine and raise her eyebrows and blush faintly. Seeing it happen always took his breath away for a split second. 

  “Hey,” she said softly. She was standing at the open window, barefoot, her hair tied in a knot and a thick cardigan wrapped around her upper body. 

  Severus didn't know what to say. He closed the door and went to her.

  “You're looking better,” she said.

  “I was in the lab.”

  “Ah,” she smiled, “the secret weapon.”

  “Yes. Why are you still awake?”

  “I tried to sleep but …” She shrugged.

  “Nightmares?”

  She nodded. “Do you have them as well?”

  “Sometimes.” Usually, he silently corrected. But he was used to it, it had been like this for almost all of his life. It wasn't the kind of nightmares he'd had after their arrival here, he could cope. 

  She looked at him. For long seconds. Then she turned to the window again. 

  “The gnome is digging up the flowerbed,” she said and pointed down into the garden, resting in the vague light of night.

  Severus stepped closer so that he was standing halfway behind her, and looked in the direction she pointed at. A small heap of soil, bathed in moonlight, was moving. “Maybe we should catch him and send him back to Hogwarts,” he mused frowning.

  Hermione laughed softly. “What?”

  Right, he hadn't told her. Back then, Adia had been here. “A while ago Albus told me that nothing alive larger than a gnome could pass through the pantry. I thought about sending him our little menace.”

  She bit her lip. “Why haven't you done it?”

  “Albus sends us food. I didn't want to risk it.”

  “Yeah, it's probably better not to,” she conceded and looked back down at the gnome. 

  Severus, for his part, looked at her. She was so close. Her shoulder lightly touched his chest. Her warm scent tickled his nostrils. Flowery, but also a little tangy. A bit of citron. Probably the remains of the ointment she'd treated her scars with earlier. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “What have you done in the lab?” she asked.

  He blinked. “I set up more of your ointment. I want to send a batch to Albus.”

  She looked up at him, the candlelight gleaming in her eyes. “That's sweet of you.”

  “Sweet?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  She nodded. “Yes, sweet.”

  He snorted. Had somebody ever called anything he'd done sweet? Maybe his grandmother when he'd still been a child. But apart from that … He couldn't remember.

  Hermione's sigh tore him from his musings. She was once again looking out the window, her head leaning against the frame. “It's so quiet here,” she mumbled, “Even with the sparrows. Do you think we will ever be able to cope with the sound of a normal life again when we get out of here?”

  “I've never been particularly good at that,” he said in a dark voice.

  She chuckled. “Right.” She cast him a glance, then she looked down at the ground. “Could you … hold me again like you did last year in the kitchen?”

  He gulped. Nodded when she looked up at him and she leaned against his chest. His arms rose on their own accord and he pulled her close. Held her as tightly as he dared to and took another deep breath, almost as if he was only now able to really breathe. As if she'd been missing before. He shut his eyes.

  Hermione relaxed in his arms. She nestled against him as if she suddenly had no solid form anymore. She was smaller by almost a head and he bent his own back because it seemed to be … too much to get even closer to her hair. How had he done it last year? He couldn't remember. He hadn't thought back then. She'd been crying and he … he'd been following an instinct.

  But it was a good start to embrace her without her having to cry first, wasn't it? He just had to … get used to it.

  He didn't even know whether he liked to embrace someone. It hadn't happened for years. His mother hadn't been a particularly physical person; his grandmother had tried to compensate for it but he hadn't been with her often enough to get used to it. His friendship with Lily hadn't been such a friendship (only when her sister had been particularly mean) and afterwards, he hadn't wanted to be that close to anybody else ever again. Sex, okay. That was a totally different kind of closeness. But embraces? No. And none of the women he'd had sex with would have put a great store on being embraced by him anyway. 

  No, he really didn't know whether he liked it. It was strange and he felt uncomfortable because it was strange. But he hoped that it would feel better given time. Hermione at least seemed to be a physical person. 

  And she didn't seem to notice his thoughts for when she parted from him she smiled. Differently than earlier. More tenderly somehow. The buttons of his shirt had left imprints on her cheek and some stray hairs floated in front of her face. She blinked at him tiredly and at this moment, in the light of a flickering candle in the middle of the night, she looked so adorable that Severus followed another one of his instincts that he didn't know where it came from and put his hands on her face to kiss her forehead.

  Hermione gasped softly. She bit her lip when he looked at her. “Will you stay with me tonight?” she breathed.

  Severus raised his eyebrows.

  She blushed. “Oh no! Not that. Just … sleeping.”

  He swallowed and looked away.

  “Too soon?” she carefully inquired.

  Severus shook his head. “No.” Yes, he thought. But she had nightmares! What kind of person would he be if he let her alone with it? One he didn't want to be.

  Still, he avoided meeting her eyes. He wished he could just briefly stop the clocks and breathe for a minute or two. Without her looking at him.

  What an irony … With every demand of the Dark Lord, no matter how asinine or twisted, he'd always instantly known how to react. He'd had a plan in mind. An 'if he is supposed to trust you, you have to …' plan he'd followed without a hitch. For years on end. But if a young woman asked him to spend the night with her his head was hitting a stone wall. 

  Well, he probably should be grateful it hadn't been the other way round.

  Hermione's voice tore him from his thoughts. “You don't have to stay here, Severus. Really. I'm a big girl, you know?” She smiled and reached out to caress his cheek.

  He straightened. “No. I'll be right back.”

  “Okay.” She said it but she didn't look as if she meant it. She looked as if she regretted asking him in the first place. Did she really know him enough to be aware of his inner conflict or had he lost his poker face during the last ten months?

  “Hermione,” he said in a dark voice and she looked at him. “It is all right.” He stroked his thumb across her cheek. Then he turned around and went to his room.

  It was dark and cool. Leaning his back against the closed door, he let his eyes rove across the faintly visible furniture. He'd forgotten to make his bed this morning. It looked as if someone had just fled from it. His open notebook was still lying on the table, the chair was half pulled out from under it. 

  His heartbeat calmed down only slowly. He let his head sink back and closed his eyes.

  He wanted what Hermione's eyes promised him. He really wanted it. But it forced him to cross borders that were stricter guarded than he'd anticipated. No, he'd never had a relationship; at what point should he have built one? But he wasn't completely inexperienced either. He was no damn virgin! It shouldn't be so hard to just sleep alongside someone else, right?

  He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. If social skills had been a subject at Hogwarts he would have failed it. Even seventeen years under the influence of Pomona and Poppy hadn't been enough to make him a person who knew how to deal with emotional closeness. He was getting the sense that it wasn't him who had to give Hermione a chance but the other way round. He didn't even know how to embrace her properly! And he was almost twice her age.

  Damn!

  He was almost twice her age! The thought hit him like a bludger. Albus would bite his head off when he got to know how they'd used their timeout here. He'd entrusted him with Hermione. He'd trusted him. If he got to know about this … affair between Hermione and him he would never trust him again.

  Severus drew his fingers through his hair, then he pushed off the door and went into the bathroom. Albus wasn't here. He could deal with him later. Maybe by then, she would have long realised that he wasn't the right for her. Maybe she only had to witness more of his lacking social skills to come to that conclusion.

  And even if not … He'd long enough done what Albus requested of him, hadn't he? There wasn't a possibility to clear his debt anymore anyway. He hadn't been able to protect Lily's son. What was the difference if he now placed another stone in his path leading to hell? Did it make any difference if Albus didn't approve of this?

  Severus brushed his teeth, scrutinised his hair in the mirror, didn't understand what Hermione liked about it, and eventually turned away to change. Maybe she didn't even want to sleep in the same bed with him ever again after tonight. He wasn't a particularly calm sleeper, let alone a late riser. On all of the occasions that he'd had someone in his bed they had sooner or later fled to the couch – or they had left altogether. Probably Hermione would throw him out soon.

  He was glad she'd already extinguished the candle when he returned to her. “Are you all right?” she asked when he lay down beside her. Her bed was warm and narrow, the blanket barely wide enough to cover his back. Well, it didn't matter, it was just for tonight.

  “Yes, I'm fine,” he replied impatiently. “Sleep!”

  She sighed softly and leaned against him if just a little. Was he supposed to embrace her again? Was that what she wanted? He wrinkled his nose. He would have failed so spectacularly … 

  The next morning Hermione found him in the kitchen and collapsed on the chair opposite him. “Why did you get up without me?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Because I was awake and you were sound asleep.”

  She put her chin in her hand. “Unfair.”

  Severus poured her some coffee. “Don't expect me to lie beside you wide awake for three hours.”

  She almost choked on her coffee. “Three hours?” Her eyes travelled to the clock on the wall. “You got up at five o'clock? After we only went to bed at one o'clock?”

  “I don't need a lot of sleep.”

  “I suppose not,” she mumbled blankly.

  “Haven't you noticed in all of the time we are here now?”

  “That you always were up before me, yes. But I never thought about how long you've already been up.”

  “A while,” he countered. And today he couldn't have slept much longer anyway since he had to tend to the ointment that was currently thickening over a small flame down in the lab.

  She hid her yawn behind her hand. “What's the plan for today?” she then asked.

  “Shrinking Solution.”

  She was taken aback. “You mean Shrinking Solution like third-year-curriculum-Shrinking-Solution?”

  “Exactly.”

  For a moment, she stared at him, her mouth ajar. “Why?”

  “At Hogwarts, I taught you how to brew the potion, what it is used for and what you have to pay attention to. Now you will explain to me why it is brewed this way and not another.” He leaned back. “Since you want to gain a better feeling for the right amounts of ingredients you will start with calculating the amounts for the Shrinking Solution following the mathematics and afterwards we will discuss why the amounts have been adjusted and to which effect.”

  Her face brightened. “Great!”

  Severus snorted.

  “What?” she smiled sheepishly.

  “You are probably the only Potion Mistress, whether budding or completely educated, that likes to grapple with the mathematics of potions.” He himself had always rolled his eyes when Master Dendron had tortured him with such a lesson. He took no stock in the mathematical approach; too many official recipes had never got past this calculated approximation. And although he'd proven to his Master that he'd already optimised a lot of these recipes throughout his school days he'd had to learn the mathematics. He'd hated it.

  Hermione however didn't for she blushed. “I like numbers. I love Arithmancy as well. It is more disappointing that I can't trust the numbers in this case.” She pouted.

  “You will soon be able to trust something better.”

  “Let me guess: My guts?”

  “No. Your experience.”

  She smiled. And looked at him … strangely somehow. Then she blinked and the moment was gone. “I'll take a quick shower, then I'm ready to start.”

  Severus nodded and turned his head after her when she passed by him, catching her scent that was lingering in the air.

Chapter Text

  Severus had instructed Hermione to prepare the Shrinking Solution with the amounts of ingredients her calculations had resulted in. He had a hard time standing by and watching how that botched up the potion so he'd simultaneously started brewing it correctly. This would make it easier for her to see the differences and conclude why which ingredient had been adjusted. They still wasted some ingredients but significantly less than when he would have let her do a complete series of experiments with one or more of her own developments. That would have to wait for another day. A day when they weren't locked up in here anymore, able to buy the ingredients on their own. 

  They were working quietly, he on one side of the lab table, she opposite him. And constantly this wretched hair fell into his face! Since he'd noticed how long it'd got during the last months he was annoyed by it. As if it had grown another four inches just because he was aware of it now.

  But Hermione had said that she liked it. He wrinkled his nose and cut the daisy roots a little bit more aggressively than strictly necessary. 

  However, about half an hour later he was so vexed by it that he blurted, “This hair! Why do you like it? I will have to tie it in a ponytail during work!”

  Like Lucius.

  That thought shot through him like a lightning bolt. Severus froze mid-movement. Then he slowly raised his eyes and met Hermione's. She was thinking the same, he could see it. She was also thinking of Lucius fucking Malfoy.

  “I'll cut it,” he said hollowly.

  She nodded eagerly. “Yes, please!”

  Later that day Severus was once again sitting the wrong way round on a chair at the dining table, his hair at its usual length. He was not wearing a shirt so Hermione could tend to his scars. “They already look so much better,” she said. And then she added, “At least the ones I could treat yesterday.” In a teasing tone of voice.

  He arched an eyebrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” she mumbled innocently.

  “You could have chosen a better moment for that conversation if you lay such great store on the treatment of my scars,” he said silkily.

  “Would there have been a better moment?”

  “Any in which I would have worn a damn shirt!” He cast her a glance over his shoulder and she blushed.

  “Touché. But I … was afraid and didn't want to look you in the eyes.”

  “Says the Gryffindor,” he sneered.

  “Just because I'm a Gryffindor doesn't mean I'm a masochist.”

  That comment made Severus turn towards her. One hand in the air, in the other the ointment jar she only looked at him. Honestly and without a hidden agenda. A very sarcastic comment was lurking on the tip of his tongue but when he saw her like this he swallowed it. “It was the best moment,” he said instead. He himself had been glad that he didn't have to look her in the eyes.

  Hermione smiled. “May I treat all of your scars today then?”

  He rolled his eyes and turned back again. “Do as you like!”

  For a while, she silently rubbed the ointment into his scars and Severus found that he liked her touch. At least on the upper part of his back. It was innocuous, that was good. And although she was standing behind him which usually made him nervous he was slowly able to relax a bit. She wasn't Lucius fucking Malfoy. And her wand was lying beside him on the table. Not because he'd asked for it; she'd put it there on her own accord. But it was helping.

  “Have you already given any thought to which other scars you want to treat?”

  “The ones on my legs first.”

  “And your arm?”

  Severus slightly shifted his left arm and scrutinised the scarred skin pensively. It was a huge area, everybody would instantly notice it. But the same applied to the Dark Mark. “I don't know,” he eventually answered. 

  “Do you think the Dark Mark would return?”

  “It is possible, yes.” The Mark held its own special kind of magic. Injuries affecting the Mark had always healed quicker and with hardly any trace (which he wouldn't tell Hermione because it revealed more about Lucius's stamina burning it from his arm than he ever wanted her to know). There was a strong probability that it would return as lively as ever if he treated those scars. 

  “Do you mind it more than the scars?” Hermione asked and snapped him out of his thoughts. 

  He curled his lip. “I mind both. Both remind me of a part of my past that I would prefer to forget.”

  “I see.” Meanwhile, she was busy with scars so deep down on his back that she crouched down.

  It was this movement, the soft crack of her knees, and his emotions tipped. Severus closed his eyes and breathed laboriously. Those parts of his back … he really didn't like being touched there. “What would you mind more?” he asked, mainly to distract himself from this situation. 

  “I?” Hermione asked in surprise. “Is my opinion relevant? It is your body.”

  “It is. But I'm interested in your opinion.” After all, she would see his arm a lot in the future. Provided she wanted to be with him long-term.

  Hermione exhaled slowly and turned towards a scar that was particularly close to his waistband, thinking about his question. He ground his teeth until his jaw hurt. His legs were tingling from the suppressed urge to leap up. If she would only say something! “I think I would mind neither,” she finally released him. A little at least. “It is both parts of your past, both belong to you.” She stopped momentarily. “But the Dark Mark is attached with … less helplessness, isn't it?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, it is,” he muttered. His heart was racing. “Are you quite done, Hermione?”

  “Yeah, just … now.”

  Her fingers disappeared from his back and Severus still had to stop himself from leaping to his feet, to just stand up, completely normal. Everything was completely normal, absolutely fine. He was fine. He put on his shirt and turned away from Hermione to button it up. His fingers were shaking. 

  She put the jar on the table. “Whatever you choose to do with your arm is fine with me.”

  He nodded, his head a little clouded, but when he faced her he still noticed that she was grappling with something. Her fingers twitched. She wanted to touch him but didn't dare to. He stared at her hand. And then Severus couldn't bear being so close to her any longer. He needed to … go. Now. So he took the jar and said, “Thank you for your help.” 

  She crossed her arms as if to restrain herself. “No problem. I think it will take another two or three treatments for the scars to completely fade.” 

  He nodded. “I need to …” Go! “… the lab,” he eventually said, walked past her, and fled from the parlour.

  About an hour later he was sitting at the table in the lab and scribbled down the results of one of his experiments. Since his magic had returned he'd sometimes run one or another. While Hermione's developments focused heavily on healing potions (which was to be expected considering her profession), his interests were different. As much as it had taken from him, Severus couldn't let go of Dark Magic.

  But now he was looking to reverse its effects. He tried to come up with a spell to detect and cancel the Imperius Curse. He tried to come up with a potion to reverse the aftermath of the Cruciatus Curse (which overlapped so much with Hermione's interests that he would most likely involve her in it). He tried to come up with potions that were able to absorb and remove Dark Curses – be it from living beings or objects. And he was looking for a way to remove the Dark Mark.

  Eventually, he put his quill aside and shoved his sleeve up his arm. He'd got used to the scars and the numbness during the last months. It hadn't been his first thought to treat this scar. But Hermione was right. It was a reminder of his torture. The Dark Mark at least wasn't just a symbol for his biggest mistake but also for his attempt to make up for it. 

  He reached for the jar that he'd carelessly put on the table when he'd come down here, his head spinning from sensations long gone, and rubbed a small amount of the ointment into the disfigured skin. The magic tingled just beyond the surface and he could watch the scarred skin get softer and melt into the surrounding skin. 

  And he could watch the Mark become clearer.

  Severus sighed. 

  Just then the door opened and he heard Hermione's voice from upstairs. “May I keep you company?”

  Severus closed the jar and put it aside. “Of course,” he said and pulled his sleeve back down. 

  A few seconds later Hermione sat down opposite him. “What are you doing?”

  “I'm writing down the results of an experiment.”

  “Was it beneficial?”

  “Very much so.” At least it had shown him how it wouldn't work. “Is there a particular reason you're here?”

  She blushed as if he'd caught her doing something forbidden. “Yes, there is.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  The display of Hermione's facial expressions while she was struggling to find the right words was fascinating. She bit the inside of her lip, furrowed her brows, took a breath to say something, decided against it, and laughed nervously when she met his eyes. “I don't know how to approach this topic.”

  “Which topic?”

  Again, she bit her lip. “Touching.”

  Severus nodded slowly and tried to hide his returning tenseness.

  “I see that it is difficult for you to get touched. And I do understand it! But I … would love to know what is okay and what is not. I don't want to overstep your boundaries.”

  He took a deep breath and shut his notebook. “Most forms of physical contact are just unfamiliar to me, that will pass.” His desire to touch her alone would soon make it pass. He'd fought with it for so long, sometimes it almost hurt physically to not touch her. 

  “And what about the others?” Hermione asked softly. “Earlier in the parlour … That wasn't only unfamiliar. Or was it?”

  “No,” he sighed and rubbed his eyes.

  “Could you please ask me for a break the next time? I know you don't like to tell others how you feel but … I don't want to be the reason you look at me like that again.”

  He grimaced, then he nodded. “Okay.”

  “Thank you.” She extended her hand towards him and smiled.

  Severus hesitated for a second but then he grasped it and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. It was still overwhelming to touch her like that. To see that she liked it and wanted to have more of it. Once again she let her fingers slip through his.

  “How were you even able to … fulfil Adia's demand if touching is so difficult?”

  Severus looked up from their hands and met her gaze. “I can do everything if it is necessary, Hermione.”

  She gulped. And her voice was a tad darker when she said, “Nothing between us will ever be necessary, okay?”

  He nodded again.

  Hermione rose to her feet and leaned over the table until she could pull his hand to her lips and kiss his fingers. “I'll let you work.”

  Severus didn't let her go for a moment longer, caught her gaze and made sure she understood how grateful he was for her words. Then he loosened his grip and she left.

  “Severus, are you free right now?”

  He looked up from The Theory of Dark Magic that he'd settled down with on the settee in the parlour. Fresh air was seeping through the open terrace door, more than an open window in his room could offer him. Hermione was standing at the door. She held a book in her hand as well. “I am,” he said and put a piece of parchment between the pages of his book before he closed it and put it aside.

  Hermione crossed the room, folded one leg and sat down alongside him. Her knee touched his thigh. “I'm just doing some calculations for ingredients and trying to understand why the official recipes are different. But the recipe for the Wit-Sharpening Potion in this book is different from the one you gave us in class. It says here that the ginger root is to be grated but we cut it into strips. And this book uses more ginger roots as well. My calculations neither fit this recipe nor yours.” She pointed at the passage in the recipe.

  Severus took the book from her hands, glanced at the cover and groaned. “Libatius Borage is an idiot,” he then said, “that's why nothing fits.”

  She looked at him in surprise, taking the book back. Then she smiled. “Is this all you'll say about it or is there more to come?”

  “What else am I supposed to say? He wanted to be a great Potions Master and changed the calculated amounts of the ingredients at his discretion to make it look as if he'd done more than juggling some numbers around. But he was a lousy Potions Master and most of his potions would have been a lot better if he'd left them well enough alone.”

  She grinned. “You're getting all riled up just talking about him.”

  Severus arched an eyebrow. “Libatius Borage was the thorn in my side during my school years,” he growled. “Slughorn, my teacher for Potions, had great regard for his books and to this day I don't understand why. I optimised most of his recipes before I even sat my N.E.W.T.s.”

  He didn't know what it was but something about what he'd said or how he'd said it seemed to delight her. Her ears had turned red and now she raised a hand and pushed a strand of hair from his face. Severus's gaze flickered to it. “Is this okay?” she asked softly.

  He grasped her fingers and kissed her palm. Hermione uttered a strange sound and he smiled. “It is.”

  She stared at her hand in his as if she'd never seen something like that ever before. And Severus stared at her because he'd indeed never seen something like this ever before. Such a reaction to a touch coming from him. To a non-sexual touch. He could make a woman very happy (and an occasional man as well), but usually not simply by holding their hand. 

  Not that he'd done that often. 

  But Hermione seemed to have a fixation on this kind of touch. He wondered if it only was because of what he'd done with Adia. That he'd used her hands to prepare her for what was about to happen. Or if Hermione had always been so fond of it.

  Severus turned her hand around and caressed her knuckles with his thumb. He watched her biting the inside of her lip, and then he laced his fingers with hers again and he began to understand why she enjoyed it so much. It just felt good. Innocent and … connected. She pushed her palm against his and looked him in the eyes. “I like touching you,” she said.

  “Yes, so it seems,” he replied.

  “Do you like it as well?”

  He looked at her hand and his. And nodded. Yes, he liked it. He raised his free arm and invited her to lean against him. Hermione didn't hesitate. She turned around and snuggled up against him without letting go of his hand. “Tell me more about Borage and your school years,” she requested and rubbed his index finger with her thumb.

  Severus took a deep breath and while the night covered their dimension he showed Hermione a bit more of himself than she'd seen so far.

  During the following days, something between them changed. Hermione suggested treating his scars in stages throughout the day. Each time she would ask him which part of his back she was allowed to tend to and afterwards, he was supposed to take a break of several hours.

  Severus had a hard time accepting this frippery. Just thinking about letting her treat his back not only once, but several times a day was even worse than just getting done with it in one sitting. But he failed to tell her. Nobody had ever worried about him like that. Yes, he was more ashamed of this fuss than he was ready to admit, but a part of him wanted it. So they tried.

  And to his surprise, it helped. Hermione meticulously stuck to what he allowed her to do and that made him feel so secure that it really was easier to sit down on this chair in front of her. Even the lower parts of his back were suddenly manageable, the old dread stopped crawling up his back. He still didn't like it and probably never would - but he could handle it.

  After five treatments in total, however, the ointment hit the brick wall. “Nothing happens anymore,” Hermione announced disappointedly.

  “You sound as if you failed,” he chuckled.

  “I did.”

  He turned around to her and grasped her hands. “I looked at my back this morning, Hermione. And if there's one thing I didn't see it was any failure.” In fact, the former padded, huge scars were merely thin white lines now. He didn't even dare hope for such a result. The other scars were more and more melting into the healthy skin as well. The Dark Mark on his arm almost looked as it had formerly been again. He'd watched its return a bit sullenly - and then he'd remembered that Lucius would hate it and he'd made his peace with it. Even his legs were mostly free of scars now. The only scars he hadn't touched were the ones forming the mark Draco had given him, the panther. He wanted to keep it.

  “But you will always think about it when you see them,” Hermione said, cutting through his thoughts.

  Severus nodded. “Yes, I will. I also think about it when I get dressed. Or when I undress. Or when I lean back, expecting the wounds to hurt. But all of that faded throughout the last months and it will continue to fade.” He raised a hand and brushed his finger along her hairline where her scar had been. “You've done a great job, Hermione.”

  Her cheeks were glowing and she nestled her face in his hand. So soft. He rose to his feet and pulled her into his arms. There was something else that was changing. He'd started to like embracing her. Maybe he was a physical person as well. Maybe he could rediscover this side of him with her help.

  Suddenly a loud crack shattered the silence.

  Hermione winced. “What was that?”

  Severus turned and glanced at the front door. The noise had come from outside. From the dimension barrier on the front of the house. “Lay low!” he said, throwing on his shirt before slipping into the hallway ahead of Hermione. He drew his wand from his pocket and opened the door they hadn't touched since their arrival. Only a fraction and then he peered outside. There were shadows on the other side of the barrier. Curses collided with it, causing a deafening noise, like apples on corrugated iron.

  Hermione crouched down so she was able to glance through the crack of the door as well. “I somehow doubt that this is Albus popping by for a visit.”

  Severus grunted and observed the shadows on the other side of the barrier with narrowed eyes. “Indeed. Albus has a certain amount of courtesy. He would have knocked first.” Another crashing sound.

  “They are knocking,” Hermione mumbled.

  “No,” he replied in a dark voice, “they're kicking the door in.”

  For a moment, they silently watched what was happening. “Should we go outside?”

  He scrunched his nose, distractedly closing a few of the buttons of his shirt; although that definitely was not the Order they would need the Order and he didn't want to explain why he was running around with an open shirt. “I prefer not to. They can see us just as we can see them.”

  “The barrier won't resist this forever.”

  “I'm afraid you're right,” Severus growled. The colliding curses caused bigger and bigger ripples on the barrier, crossed by fine lines. “How did they even find us? Didn't you say the house was kept hidden with a Fidelius Charm?” He frowned.

  “Yes, that's what Professor Dumbledore told me.”

  “Who's the Secret Keeper?”

  “Professor Dumbledore.” He cast her a glance and saw her gulp. “Does that mean Professor Dumbledore is dead?”

  “That wouldn't have rendered the Fidelius useless,” he countered. “It only would have made all who know the secret a Secret Keeper.”

  “So even if he is dead somebody would have to betray us.”

  “Yes,” he mumbled.

  The next moment, a curse broke through the barrier and shot straight at them. Severus pushed Hermione back and slammed the door shut. The curse crashed against it and it felt like the whole house was trembling. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I'm fine,” she replied softly.

  “Then go and write a note to Albus. I'm afraid he relies a bit too much on his wards.” Hermione nodded and struggled to her feet. She already was about to go but Severus pulled her back into his arms. His nose dove into her hair, he felt her warm body against his. “Hurry up!” he murmured eventually and let her go.

  Then he grasped the handle of his wand tighter and stepped out of the door. He had to prevent the hole from getting bigger and - even more important - more curses from getting through to them. He didn't want to know what would happen underneath the dome if they set the house on fire. He had to hold the line until the cavalry got here. “Protego maximus!” he said and a solid shimmering wall appeared, nestling perfectly against the barrier, shielding the hole and with it the glance of the outside he'd momentarily had. A thin thread of magic led from the shield charm to the tip of Severus's wand. The Maximus needed a constant supply of energy, which was the reason that it was so powerful. It wouldn't dissolve as long as it was nourished. 

  And Severus wasn't trained enough yet to do it for a long period of time. The charm took so much magic from him that his hand quickly started to tremble. Then his whole arm. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He felt like he'd been feeling during his imprisonment. When the wounds Walden had inflicted on him had been bleeding so heavily that it had almost cost his life. If Draco's rotten charm hadn't prevented it. Such a charm couldn't help him now though. Severus took a ragged breath.

  When Hermione reappeared at his side he'd already buckled to his knees. Yet he said, “Stay inside!”

  She looked at him, looked at the barrier and shook her head. “No way,” she said and slipped her own wand into her hand. “Protego maximus!” she called and her charm covered his.

  Severus's arm dropped and his Maximus dissolved when he broke the thread of magic. He was breathing heavily, supporting himself on his knees. Before he'd sacrificed his magic he could have sustained a Maximus for half an hour without having any issues. All of this made him painfully aware of how fragile his magic still was.

  After his pulse had calmed down a bit he raised his gaze. Curses continued to collide with the barrier every second. He could make out the outlines of several persons at a few metres distance to the barrier.

  Hermione gasped. “The curses are strong,” she said.

  He nodded. “I know. Let's hope Albus will find your letter soon.”

  “He will! I made it a Howler.”

  “Clever,” Severus said and saw her grin.

  But another ten minutes dragged along agonisingly slowly. In the meantime, the Death Eaters had started to break a second hole into the barrier and Severus had just cast a new Maximus. He wouldn't be able to nourish it for long but maybe it would be long enough.

  How had they even found them? Who had betrayed them? How was that possible?

  He cast Hermione a glance. She was kneeling on the ground a few metres away from him, breathing in spurts, her face so grey as if she was actually ill. “Stop it, Hermione! Leave the Maximus and go inside!” he called across the clamour of the curses.

  “No!”

  Severus growled. And then he saw more people appear behind the barrier. Suddenly they were there and the storm of curses on the barrier stopped.

  He breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his wand. The shield charm dissolved in a flicker. Then he noticed a movement from the corner of his eye and jerked his head around. Hermione. She'd slumped to the side unconscious. “Damn Gryffindor!” Severus hissed and stumbled to her. “If you would listen to me only once!” He felt for her pulse and found it, fluttering, but it was there.

  Severus turned back to the barrier. Through the hole Hermione had defended, he could see the Order fighting the Death Eaters. Then they disappeared from his field of vision and he didn't dare approach the barrier. The next moment, a stray curse shot through the hole and Severus leaned over Hermione protectively; it crashed against the wall behind him. No, he definitely wouldn't approach the barrier.

  Instead, he struggled to his feet and cast a slightly unsteady Mobilicorpus on Hermione. He let her float into the parlour and lowered her onto the settee before looking down at her grimly. She was alright, only exhausted. She needed to sleep and he could give her a Strengthening Solution later. She was alright.

  Still, he could only tear his eyes from her when another curse hit the house. With wide strides, Severus returned to the front door and peered outside. He heard the sound of several Apparitions, then it went silent. Nobody was to be seen. Not even shadows behind the barrier. Carefully he crept closer and pried through the hole.

  For the first time in months, the horizon was a defined line. For the first time in months, he saw clear clouds in the sky. For the first time in months, a soft breeze caressed his face.

  He knew he shouldn't do it. He knew it was close to suicide. And still, he reached out and held his hand in the stream of air in front of the hole. Stretched it out into the freedom that was just a few inches away from him and yet so out of reach.

  And then somebody grabbed his arm.

Chapter Text

  Somebody brutally tore his arm through the hole so it disappeared up to his shoulder until they finally let go. Severus jumped back and - blurred by the barrier - he saw somebody appear next to the hole from thin air. Potter's invisibility cloak. He exhaled sharply and relaxed.

  “Ten months in this house and your vigilance is gone! I've expected more from you, Snape!”

  Severus rolled his eyes. “It beggars belief to see you're still alive, Alastor,” he sneered and crossed his arms over his chest, his heart still pounding.

  Moody leaned down a bit and peeked at Severus. “Could say the same about you.” While Severus raised his eyebrows he looked around. “Where's Weasley?”

  For a split second Severus was confused. Then he remembered. Hermione. “Unconscious on the settee. She went too far with the Maximus.” Moody twisted his face. “And where is Albus?”

  “Over there.” He pointed over his shoulder and stepped aside so Severus could spot Albus through the hole, obviously searching the mind of a Death Eater for information. “The others Disapparated with the rest of the lot but this one will tell us how they found you.”

  “Have you already used all of the Veritaserum we brewed?”

  “Albus might've forgotten about it when he had to call us in a rush to save your arse yet again.”

  Severus frowned in annoyance but before he could answer Albus interrupted them. “Leave it be, Alastor!” He came to them and peered through the hole as well. Although he'd just fought a mob of Death Eaters he wasn't even out of breath. Only his hair was a bit dishevelled. “How are the two of you doing, Severus?”

  “Fine!” he groaned and cocked an eyebrow.

  “Where is Hermione?”

  “Inside, Maximus,” Severus sighed and leaned against the barrier with his shoulder.

  “Unpleasant spell.”

  “Yes,” Severus growled. “Do you know how they found us?”

  “I do, indeed. Mr Malfoy apparently found a way to bypass the Fidelius using your Dark Mark.”

  Severus balled his left hand into a fist, a jolt shooting through him.

  “Have you done anything with it lately, Severus?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes,” he mumbled. “Lucius tried to … burn it from my arm. I treated the scars with the ointment I sent you as well.”

  Albus knitted his brows. “As it seems, that brought the Mark back to its old glory, I might say, enabling Mr Malfoy to locate you in spite of the wards and the Fidelius.”

  He hadn't thought about that. But he hadn't been aware that the magic of the Mark was strong enough to break through the Fidelius either. Or that Lucius had found a way to use it. “What now?” he asked in a dark voice. “Am I supposed to burn it again?”

  “I don't think that will be necessary. Give me your arm, Severus.”

  He scrunched his nose, yet he unbuttoned his sleeve and pushed it up his arm before he poked it through the hole. Albus put his flat palm on the Mark and closed his eyes. Severus felt a tingling in his arm. “Mh,” uttered Albus and scrutinised the serpent. Then he slipped his wand into his hand and pointed it at the Mark.

  Severus didn't know what kind of spell Albus was using but suddenly a sharp pain tore through his arm up to his shoulder. Severus winced.

  “My apologies,” Albus said and let him go. “But nobody will locate you because of it ever again now.”

  “Marvellous,” Severus muttered and rubbed his arm. The Mark looked unchanged. “So you still won't let us out?”

  “Are you surprised after what has just happened?” Albus asked. 

  “Your arse stays where it is, Snape!” Moody called. “You're making less of a hassle in there.”

  “Nobody asked you,” Severus grunted.

  “Silence!” Albus ordered, then he turned to Severus again. “I will fix the barrier and restore the wards. You will have to be patient.”

  Severus nodded. And then he remembered something. “How exactly will you restore the wards, Albus?”

  The blue eyes observed him intently. “What do you mean?”

  “Will you restore them as they have initially been or as they've been this morning?” he specified impatiently.

  “Why do you want to know, Severus?”

  He raised his eyebrows before he silkily replied, “Because Mrs Weasley and I want to have wild sex and as you can imagine, we'd like to be undisturbed.”

  Moody choked on the alcohol he carried around in his flask.

  Albus however looked at him sharply, looked at his shirt that was not tucked into his pants, searched for the truth in Severus's face and probably even in his mind. Severus returned his look indifferently. He thought of the treatment of his scars and that seemed to reassure Albus. “They will be as they have been this morning,” he said.

  “Good,” Severus drawled. “Then I will go inside and care for Mrs Weasley, you will certainly be able to get this done without me.” He turned around without waiting for a reply and went inside.

  Severus had refrained from waking Hermione to give her the Strengthening Solution. When he'd returned to her she'd been fast asleep and he knew how rare of an occurrence that was. 

  After the first night he'd spent in her bed he hadn't slept at hers anymore because when he was finished in the lab she more often than not already was asleep and he refused to wake her. But the following night she'd rapped at his door and asked if she could sleep there with him. So Severus had moved closer to the wall and made room for her. She'd done that every night ever since and so he'd widened his bed and his blanket to make it more comfortable for both of them. 

  But these nights they'd spent together had shown him how hard it still was for her to sleep in peace and he'd sworn to never wake her up if it wasn't necessary.

  So while Hermione was sleeping he sat opposite her in the armchair and stared through the huge windows at the barrier. He was exhausted and spent himself, the Maximus had given him a harder time than he was ready to admit. But after he'd got this small glance at the world outside the restlessness had once again sneaked up to him. He wanted to get out of here! He was so sick of being locked up.

  Severus cracked his knuckles and the sound snapped him out of his musings. He blinked, took a deep breath and looked at Hermione.

  She looked back. “Hey,” she mumbled in a tired voice.

  Severus smiled. “Hello.”

  She ran her hands across her face and through her hair. “What happened after I passed out?”

  “The Order defeated the Death Eaters and took them away. Albus restored the wards, correctly restored them, and we are still here.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean, he correctly restored them?”

  Right, he hadn't told her about that piece of information either. “Initially, Albus could watch us. Until the day you drained your excess magic into the barrier.”

  Her eyes widened. “No!”

  He huffed. “Are you surprised?”

  She exhaled slowly. “Now that I'm thinking about it … no.”

  “Good.”

  “And he restored them so he can't watch us?”

  “That's what he said,” Severus replied.

  Hermione narrowed her eyes. “How did you convince him?”

  He smirked. “I told him we wanted to have wild sex and that we'd like to be undisturbed.”

  “No!” she gasped once again, her eyes as huge as saucers.

  “Yes,” he said.

  She raised an eyebrow – she could do it almost as well as he –, a blush rising to her cheeks. “Very Slytherin of you. Especially considering you haven't even kissed me yet …”

  He looked at her, letting his gaze travel across her body. She was lying there as if she'd been positioned for a Renaissance painting. Her hair spread across the pillow, her head propped on her hand, her legs slightly bent, a blush on her cheeks and the pulse racing at her neck. When she noticed how intently he eyed her, she bit her lip and observed him.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  Severus slowly shook his head. “Nothing.” And that was the utter truth. His head was empty. And at the same time full to the brim with complete bewilderment because this amazing woman really wanted him. This portrayal of a Renaissance painting wanted to be with him, the cartoon of the cold-hearted bastard of Hogwarts.

  Without thinking about it, Severus rose to his feet and went to her. He propped one hand onto the armrest behind her head and let the other slide into her hair. For two, three, four seconds he looked at her, heard her quick breaths and saw the shine in her eyes, stroked his thumb across her cheek and touched the necklace with his pinky. Sweet Salazar, he could have lost her today. If not to the Maximus then to one of the stray curses. His heart skipped a beat thinking about it. Then he bent down and kissed her.

  Hermione gasped against his lips. She tilted her head back and then she had her hand in his hair as well. Her lips were warm and soft on his. Severus moaned silently. She opened her mouth a fraction and a small jolt shot through him when their tongues met. She tasted alien and unbelievably familiar at the same time. Not sweet but alluring. As if she were a blossom and he the bloody bee.

  His arm started to tremble when the kiss persisted. She didn't want to let him go. As if she claimed compensation for the long days that he'd withheld this first kiss from her because … Well, perhaps because he had thought he would break a spell if he kissed her. As if his kiss would also wake her like a princess in a Muggle fairytale – but from the misguided perception that he could be the right man for her. 

  Now she showed him that he was exactly the right one. She held on to him, moaned, took everything he gave her and a little bit more. His nose brushed along her cheek and met hers. He inhaled sharply when she caught his lip with her teeth to carefully nibble at it. Then she smoothed her tongue across it and whimpered softly when he freed himself from her grasp. He would fall straight onto her if he didn't rise immediately.

  Hermione slumped back onto the settee and reached for his hand. Her lips were of a deep red now and a bit swollen. “That was worth waiting for,” she mumbled.

  Severus cocked an eyebrow but his thumb caressed the back of her hand again. “Go back to sleep, the Maximus is sneaky.”

  She nodded, barely able to keep her eyes open. “Will you stay?”

  “Yes. Right over there.” He nodded at the armchair.

  “Perfect,” she mumbled and instantly fell asleep. Severus laid her hand on her stomach and returned to the armchair, his knees a little weak.

  Yes, this kiss had been worth daring it. 

  He'd fallen asleep himself. Crouched down into the armchair. When he woke up in the middle of the night Severus groaned – this time from pain. He was too old to sleep in an armchair.

  He stretched and bent his aching back. What time was it? Didn't matter. It was dark, it was silent, even he needed more sleep. His head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton wool. He hated the bloody Maximus. 

  Severus went to Hermione and caressed her cheek until she sighed softly. “Let's go to bed, Mia.”

  He winced and was suddenly wide awake. Mia? Where had that been coming from?

  Even Hermione froze. “Mia?” she asked flabbergasted, a little belated, but he could hear her smile. The low light seeping in from the huge windows was shining in her eyes.

  Severus growled. “Will you come with me now?”

  “Of course,” she said and he knew that she was still smiling. Although … probably it was more of a grin. He rolled his eyes. Then she slid her hand in his and he pulled her with him through the dark house and up the stairs. “My place or yours, Sev?” she chuckled.

  But Severus tensed. In the middle of the stairs, he stopped and looked at her. “Please don't call me Sev,” he said hollowly.

  Hermione gulped. The delight instantly vanished from her face and she nodded. “Okay. I'm sorry.”

  He shook his head, then he turned around and moved on. That wasn't the right topic for now. He would explain it later. Tomorrow. Or the day after. Not now.

  And for the time being, it seemed to be enough that he took her to his room. They silently undressed to their underthings and Severus skidded over to the wall, held the blanket up for her and clasped her in his arms. Hermione sighed and shuddered at his side but he was sure she wasn't cold. She rubbed her warm nose against his neck.

  “Severus?”

  “Mh?”

  “You kissed me.”

  He huffed. “I know. I was there.”

  “And … do you want to do it again?”

  He blinked. If he wanted to do it again? “Do you?”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  A fuzzy feeling whirled through his stomach. It caused the edges of his mouth to rise. Thank Merlin it was dark. Thank Merlin she couldn't see it. He turned to her and his lips found hers easily, even in the darkness. He grasped her head and because he didn't need to support himself anywhere this time it took longer until their lips parted again. Hermione sighed softly. Severus smirked. “Go back to sleep,” he mumbled and placed another kiss on her forehead before he closed his eyes.

  Hermione slept with her mouth open.

  Severus was lying next to her, turned to his side, his head in his hand, and observed her. She made small noises when she breathed; it would be stretching a point to say she was snoring but thirty years down the road they would have to sleep in separate rooms!

  He frowned. Thirty years … Maybe he should limit himself to thinking about the next thirty days. How long might it even take her to notice that -

  No. He had to stop listening to these thoughts. He knew what a damn self-fulfilling prophecy was. No more prophecies. Never again. This something between them would either work against all odds – or it would not. He could busy himself with the 'or it would not' part when it arrived.

  And it would.

  He rolled his eyes. Enough!

  Hermione smacked her lips softly and brought him back to the here and now. Because here and now this incredible woman was lying next to him in his bed (not for the first time either!) and slept as if this was the safest place she could possibly be. He was looking directly at her – and still, he couldn't fathom that this was really happening. He still heard her words in his mind and yet he was looking for the fly in the ointment. This was … just too perfect. She was just too perfect. 

  Severus reached out with his hand and took a strand of her hair in his fingers. It was softer than he'd anticipated. He remembered how she'd looked in her first year. Her hair had been a mess. Always. Doubtlessly she'd had someone taking care of these untameable locks before. Probably her mother. Now she'd obviously got the hang of it. Her hair wasn't a mess anymore. At least not one that she wasn't able to handle. She probably used potions. He closed his eyes and tried to remember. He'd been rather busy with Potter and Albus and the Dark Lord but it must've got better around the time she'd reached a level at potions that enabled her to brew what she needed. Fourth, fifth year. 

  Merlin, she was so young. And yet she'd lost more than he had. Her body was young but her mind was as bruised as his own. As unsettled as his, as stricken. Maybe this something between them would work because they'd both lived through similar pain. What a cynical reason for a functioning relationship.

  He let go of her hair and put his hand on her cheek. Hermione … Did she even have a hunch of how incredibly beautiful she was? Probably not. Severus huffed. Women rarely were aware of that. He would make her realise. And he would make her never forget. No matter who would be at her side thirty years down the road – she would know that she was a damn goddess and hopefully, she wouldn't let herself be treated as anything less. 

  His thumb traced the soft skin underneath her eye and he sensed her slowly waking up. Her mind left the land of dreams and floated to the surface of reality. Once more she smacked her lips and the tip of her tongue traced across them. Severus bent down and kissed her forehead. She sighed softly and when he drew back she blinked.

  “May I ask for this way of waking up for the rest of my life?” she asked in a sleepy voice. 

  “You may,” he retorted darkly.

  Hermione shuddered. She bit the inside of her lip and moaned softly.

  He raised his eyebrows. “I hardly touched you, Hermione.”

  “No, but … the way you look at me … and your voice …” She sighed. “With that voice, you don't have to touch anybody, I hope you know that.”

  He smiled slyly. “I do.” He had been told a few times. Maybe it was a kind of cosmic compensation for his subpar looks. 

  She raised her hand, obviously to touch his hair, but she stopped herself short. “Is this okay?”

  There was a tickling in his stomach. He cast down his eyes. His hair had to be an oily mess. It always was in the morning. And yet he mumbled, “It is.”

  Her fingers slid into his hair and she drew him closer. His scalp tingled, the fine hairs on his neck stood on end. “Good,” she mumbled, “since I'd also like to repeat what we did yesterday.”

  Severus almost lost his balance. Her lips were warm and dry after sleeping. The kiss also tasted rather stale but nothing in this world could have made him stop. Sweet Circe, hopefully, Albus was true to his word!

  Hermione scooted closer and kissed him devotedly, almost as if she wanted to devour him alive. As if she couldn't get close enough to him, as if she didn't have enough senses to perceive him. “Eight months,” she gasped when she momentarily let go of him, “I hoped for this and hated myself for it and still couldn't stop hoping for eight damn months.”

  Severus gulped. He hadn't even dared hope.

  Eventually, she backed off of him a bit. “And even now I have to be more patient,” she complained. “Stay exactly as you are, I'll be right back!” Then she stumbled out of the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

  He snorted and slumped back onto the mattress. His face was blazing, he couldn't remember when this had happened the last time. No, wrong. He could remember but he didn't want to. It'd been almost exactly one year ago … 

  Hermione snapped him out of his dark memories when she crept back to him under the blanket. “Thank Merlin, you're still here,” she said and snuggled into him.

  “Where else am I supposed to be?” he asked, his hand sneaking onto her back, travelling down her spine.

  “Up 'til now, you've always been gone in the morning. I almost didn't dare fall asleep anymore,” she murmured, quite out of breath, and bent her back. She shivered underneath his fingers.

  “Hmmm,” Severus drawled against her lips when she kissed him again, “looking for me within this distance of about fifty metres is hard, you're absolutely right.”

  Hermione brushed her foot up his leg. “Every inch of distance is too much.”

  Severus blinked and met her gaze. There was no irony, no lightness left in her voice. She was absolutely serious. He gulped. And once again drew her closer. Tracing her lips with his tongue, he sighed when she greeted him with her own. Had kissing ever felt so wonderful? Not for him. He'd never before kissed someone that he'd desired so much as he desired Hermione. Not only physically but with every fibre of his being. Now he was the one missing more senses to perceive her. More possibilities to be close to her.

  “Contraception,” he panted when a little moment of lucidity came about.

  Hermione groaned. “I wanted to brew a potion yesterday but the attack …” She lifted her leg a little higher and bumped her knee against his half-hard member. “I'll catch up on it later, the potion will still work,” she breathed.

  Severus grunted when she carefully bumped her knee against him, again and again. That was unfair practice! “Very well,” he said in a deep voice and Hermione gasped. He smirked and decided to … excite her a bit more with his voice. “I will make it a lesson,” he began slowly and slithered his hand between their bodies. He slipped under the cotton vest she'd slept in, felt her muscles twitch underneath his fingers. “The contraceptive potion is part of the curriculum and I have to write a minute report about it.” Hermione whimpered, bit her lip and pressed harder against his hand. Severus traced the waistband of her knickers, then he dove beneath it and deeper into the warm moist. “I will keep a close eye on you. Since you've already mastered this potion you will prepare it without a recipe.”

  Hermione moaned when he slipped his fingers between her folds. She raised her leg and put it onto his hip. Shoved her pelvis forwards so she could tease him as well. Severus clicked his tongue. “Not so hasty,” he murmured and caught her swollen lips, gliding into her with two fingers and circling her clit with his thumb. She gasped and met his movements.

  Severus watched her squirming next to him, her eyes closed. Her cheeks, her lips, even her ears were blushed in a deep red. A thin layer of sweat covered her forehead. He inhaled deeply and her scent was the only thing he was aware of. It was perfectly intense without being unpleasant. The flowery touch of her deodorant was hardly noticeable anymore. This was her, only her. And he couldn't get enough of it.

  Hermione's breathing accelerated and then she tore her eyes open. And her mouth. Severus felt her muscles twitch around his fingers. She cried throatily and dug her fingers into his upper arm. While she hovered on top of her lust she held her breath and Severus tensed to not follow her on the spot. “Merlin, you're so beautiful,” he mumbled hoarsely before he could stop himself.

  She slowly relaxed, still out of breath, and blinked. “More beautiful than Adia?” she whispered eventually.

  “Yes.”

  “Liar.”

  Severus hissed and glared at her. “Give me Veritaserum, the answer will be the same.” This time, there was no irony and no lightness in his voice. This time, he was absolutely serious.

  Hermione uttered a sound that was almost a sob. Her hand returned to his hair and her mouth covered his, hot and yearning. Severus drew her body closer. His cock rubbed against her lower abdomen, throbbing and so, so hard. Being so close to her, smelling her, tasting her, seeing her desire, and knowing that he was the reason for it - all of this was grinding his self-control like a quern. With Adia it had been easy to restrain himself, he hadn't wanted to have sex with her. But Hermione … Merlin, if it had been possible he would have melted into her, so much he craved her closeness!

  But she drew back and slightly scooted away. She kissed his cheeks, his jaw, let her tongue swirl across the growing beard on his neck and sucked at this spot close to his Adam's apple. Severus grunted, both because it felt good and because she gave him a bloody love bite! She laughed softly and – exploring his chest with her lips – she pulled down his briefs. 

  Severus rolled onto his back to make it easier for her but damn! He had to keep her from carrying things too far or this beautiful morning would end much too soon. And yet he didn't muster the strength to stop her. Her tongue found his nipple and sent chillingly hot shivers straight to his core. He moaned.

  Then she completely disappeared under the blanket and soon it wasn't her hands stroking his length anymore but her tongue. Her warm, wet, bloody talented tongue, whirling around his tip, making him gasp. “Mia!” he choked and wanted to stop her. Do not come, do not come, do not come! he grimly chanted to himself when his balls tightened. But if she didn't stop doing what she did at once he would come! “Mia … Hermione! You have to … stop!”

  He heard her chuckle and then he felt her fingers a bit underneath his balls. She fumbled across his sensitive skin and obviously found the spot she had been looking for. Found this spot that he didn't expect her to know. Carefully pressed down, covered her mouth over his cock, and sucked and licked until Severus clawed his hands into the blanket and slammed his heels into the mattress when she spiralled him straight into a climax. He, too, tore his eyes open and uttered a guttural sound when the high of his arousal made him shiver. His balls tightened but his cum didn't find its way out; Hermione's fingers stopped it.

  When Severus slumped back, breathing raggedly, Hermione emerged from under the blanket and crawled up to him, kissed him and smiled slyly. “I know some tricks as well,” she noted with a smug smile.

  “Indeed,” he growled and rolled over with her so he ended up on top. Maybe his mind was still a bit clouded from the dry climax she'd just propelled him into so easily but her sight made him speechless. The tangled locks, the hungry look in her eyes, the blush on her cheeks. Seeing her so aroused was like an aphrodisiac. Severus pulled up the vest that she was still wearing and Hermione lifted herself up a bit so he could take it off. His hair tickled her and she chuckled when he bent down and caught her nipple with his lips. She moaned and curved her back. “Severus!” she whimpered and his name from her mouth in this tone of voice caused him to growl like a plundering animal.

  He kissed her stomach, tasted the salt of her sweat and the sweet and tangy scent of her arousal got heavier the deeper he moved. He pulled the knickers from her hips and inhaled as deeply as he could. Sweet Circe!

  Severus parted her legs and drew his nose through her locks. She smelled so good that his cock twitched. He just couldn't help tasting her. Hermione cried faintly when his tongue dipped between her sensitive folds. Her taste exploded in his mouth, salty, intense, so good that he deeply growled against her mound. Hermione said his name again, her voice ragged. Her fingers dug into his hair, her legs trembled next to his head. She pushed against him and when his lips covered her clit, when he sucked at it, when he very carefully scratched his teeth over it, she literally quaked beneath his hands and whimpered, gasped, almost choked on air. 

  He smirked and lay his head on her belly for a second. His stubble rubbed at her heated skin. Her scent, her taste on his tongue, her warmth and the sound of her rapid breaths – he would have nothing against spending the rest of his life exactly here so that someday, he could die a happy man. 

  Hermione's fingers in his hair ended the moment though. “What are you doing with me?” she murmured, still a bit out of breath.

  Severus raised his gaze. “Whatever you want,” he said in a dark voice. “Do you even have the slightest idea how beautiful you are?” He rose over her and brushed a strand of hair from her heated face. “When you are overcome by desire … I have never before seen anything so beautiful.”

  She bit her lip. “Am I … made for this as well?” she whispered.

  “Absolutely.” Every woman was made for sex if she wanted that. But he wouldn't ruin this moment by telling her. He'd told Adia those things because she'd wanted to hear them. Because he'd wanted to do it right so she wouldn't find a way to back out. But damn! She hadn't been fit to hold a candle to Hermione. 

  “Make love to me, Severus,” she breathed and pulled him down. “Hold me close and make love to me.” Directly against his lips.

  Severus gulped. He reached for his cock and – kissing her again – guided it into her wet heat almost effortlessly. Hermione gasped, maybe because he was filling her, maybe because she tasted herself on his lips. Anyway, he gasped because she was so hot around him that it briefly took his breath away. Merlin, this was so good! So tight, so wet, so hot. She drove him out of his mind, his self-control waning, and he began to circle her clit because it wouldn't take him long to climax. He wanted to take her with him. 

  Hermione cried softly when he gently pinched her clit and simultaneously moved inside of her. Severus angled himself a little differently and tried to hit that delicate spot inside her. There it was. She tore her eyes open. “Yes!” she whimpered and clung to his arms, raised her hips from the bed and met his thrusts.

  Severus got lost in her beauty. Her breasts bobbed in time to his movements, the pulse on her neck was racing and she wetted her lips when she blinked and caught his gaze. “Come for me, Mia,” Severus growled and she shivered. She sat up and slung an arm around his neck, biting down on his skin when he pushed her across the cliff once again. Her muscles clenched around his cock, everything in him tensed and he uttered a guttural sound when he spilled himself into her, spurt after spurt.

  They remained sitting as they were. He on his knees, she with her arm slung around his neck. He felt her breathing on his moist skin. Felt her lips, caressing the spot where she bit him. “I'm sorry,” she murmured.

  Severus snorted. “About what? About biting me or about the damn love bite you gave me earlier?”

  She grinned and pursed her lip when she looked at him. “About both,” she said. “Nothing of it. Everything.”

  He caressed her cheek. “Nothing of it,” he decided.

Chapter Text

  An hour later they were sitting in the kitchen, both of them freshly showered, Hermione with one foot on the bench and once again nibbling at a slice of toast with jam. Severus, however, had chosen porridge today; he liked it with nuts and maple syrup, liked the contrast to the aromatic taste of his coffee. 

  “You still haven't told me who betrayed us to the Death Eaters,” Hermione remembered after a while that she'd watched him with a barely hidden grin while he read the Daily Prophet that had been lying in the pantry today – as usual, it had nothing interesting to tell.

  So he raised his eyes without missing a beat; Mrs Lillypilly and her gardening hints and tricks could wait. “I did,” he answered her question.

  She froze. “What do you mean, you did?”

  He sighed. “The Dark Mark betrayed us. Healing the scarred skin strengthened its magic enough for Lucius to find me despite the Fidelius Charm.”

  She arched her eyebrows. “I didn't know that was possible.”

  “Me neither. But I should have known. The Dark Lord didn't put up with cowards, he would have made sure we wouldn't be able to hide from him, not even with a Fidelius.” That Lucius found a way to use this connection, though, was impressive. Severus wouldn't have thought him capable of it.

  Hermione slowly shook her head. “And what now?”

  “Albus did something with the Mark.” His arm twitched slightly when he remembered the pain. “He altered it in some way.”

  “So we're safe?”

  “Or so it seems,” Severus pondered and turned the page of the newspaper that wasn't worthy of that name. Nothing. There was exactly nothing in this damn thing!

  “Are you all right, Severus?”

  He pushed the paper away, just like the remains of his porridge. “Yes, I'm fine.”

  “But?” She tilted her head.

  He rubbed his temple. “I caught a glimpse of the outside yesterday.”

  “I see.” She sighed. “I miss being able to go outside as well. I'd love to browse through Flourish & Blotts again.”

  He hummed softly. He felt most drawn to the sea. Feeling the soft wind on his fingers yesterday had stirred his memories. When he concentrated, he could hear the soft jingling of the boats … 

  Hermione put her mug on the table and the sound tore him from his reveries. “So, why do you suddenly call me Mia?”

  Severus met her gaze. “I don't know. Do you want me to stop?”

  “No. I like it.” She smiled and blushed faintly. “And why am I not allowed to call you Sev?”

  He looked at his porridge. “Lily used that name,” he softly replied. He didn't want to be called Sev ever again. By nobody.

  “I didn't know.” He saw her gulp.

  “How could you have known?” Severus was quite sure nobody knew anymore at this point. But this, too, he could hear when he concentrated. Lily calling him Sev. He gave Hermione a quick smile and she did the same.

  But then a crease formed between her eyebrows and she quarrelled with herself whether or not she should say what was flashing through her mind. “I think I …” she finally decided to do it, “I would lose it if anybody would ever call me Mione again.” She caught his eyes and put her head in her hand.

  Severus nodded. They both had a past.

  After breakfast, they went downstairs. They still had to catch up on something. Severus put the ingredients for the contraceptive potion on the table and Hermione tied her hair back.

  “So, without a recipe, right?” she asked and a smile played around her lips.

  “Without a recipe,” he confirmed. “I will keep an eye on you.”

  She sighed. “That complicates matters. Do I get bonus points?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “If you later explain to the guild for what you deserved them …”

  She blushed up to her hairline. “Ah, well … in that case, thanks, but no.” She pulled the fluxweed closer, lifted the preservation charm keeping the sensitive plant fresh and began cutting it evenly.

  Severus watched her for a second, lost in thoughts and the sight of her lean hands, then he reached for his notebook and worked on his own projects. He wouldn't have to keep too close of an eye on her, Hermione knew how to prepare a contraceptive potion. He didn't even think that the potion had been the problem with her unwanted pregnancy. Maybe she'd forgotten to take it. He wouldn't let that happen.

  “Say, shouldn't you have covered the contraceptive potion long ago?” she mused after a while. “We've done so many potions already that are more challenging than this.”

  “I should have, indeed,” he admitted.

  “So why did you postpone it?”

  He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “How would you have reacted if I'd presented you with the contraceptive potion as your first official lesson? Right after I saw your memories.”

  Hermione frowned. “I think I would have called you a cruel, callous bastard,” she pondered.

  “I assumed as much. That's why I decided to postpone it and wait for the right moment. And this moment …” he added leisurely, “… is absolutely perfect, don't you think?” His voice was a low baritone, making Hermione shudder.

  “I do deserve bonus points,” she mumbled and – shaking her head – returned to the fluxweed.

  Severus chuckled. But she was right. After this morning, his thoughts were miles away as well.

  Hermione had decided to cook and she'd banished him from the kitchen. “You and I, Severus, we are now on a level that you have to openly admit that you are a lousy cook.” That had been her words and he had to agree with her. He'd mastered exactly one dish and apart from that, he was only qualified for menial work. He could cut herbs in such accurate pieces that every starred chef would go green with envy, he could clean vegetables and peel potatoes, but none of them cared for the size of the herbs and for everything else, there were charms that Hermione was perfectly capable of casting. 

  It was simply a fact: He was a virtuoso at the cauldron but a Neville Longbottom in the kitchen. 

  So he'd gone outside. This house … Severus wrinkled his nose. He tried to cling to the heady images the morning had left him with but the more time passed the more intrusive the feeling of the soft draught of air on his fingers was again. 

  He had to let it go. It would lead nowhere. They were stuck in here for a while to come and apparently for a good reason. Severus took a deep breath.

  The sky was clouded today, the barrier looked as if it was wrapped into a light grey cloth. A hazy black dot scurried along, probably a bird. Probably … Severus turned away from the barrier. Every time he looked at the blurred landscape behind it, he had the urge to rub his eyes.

  But looking to his right, he noticed the flowerbeds and huffed. They'd terribly neglected the garden. Weed sprawled between the miserable remains of last year's summer flowers, the gnome had partially uprooted some of the bushes and the lawn was unkempt and littered with patches of yellow.

  Spontaneously, Severus slid his wand into his hand. Hermione was good at kitchen charms, he had a knack for magical gardening. The cultivation and upkeep of potion ingredients had been part of his apprenticeship and Pomona had ceded a part of greenhouse III to him so that he could grow his own plants there. She'd always eyed him disapprovingly, though, when he'd used magic to care for his plants. But it had been his plants and she'd kept her thoughts to herself. Even though he knew how to care for them, he simply lacked the necessary passion to do it by hand and since this kind of magic had no effect on the plants but only on their setting, he'd never seen the need to develop it.

  So he walked through the garden and let the weed fly from the ground into a heap close to the barrier, selected the dead plants from the ones he still had hope for, dug over the beds, replanted the healthy plants, let the gnome that curiously poked its head out of its hole hover onto a nearby tree to be able to work in peace and readjusted the bushes. At last, he cut and watered the lawn while the gnome blusterously climbed down the thin trunk of the apple tree and disappeared into his hole.

  When Hermione showed up beside him the garden looked almost good again. The traces of the past winter were still visible here and there - the flowers needed more sun and time to get well again - but that they would get well again was now more likely.

  “Nice,” Hermione said and looked at him after she'd examined the garden. She smiled, reached her hand out and brushed something from his cheek. “Magical gardening is still dirty work.”

  Severus grasped her hand before she could draw it back and kissed her palm. And her fingers. He observed her curiously. She was staring at his mouth and gulped. He brushed his nose against her knuckles and inhaled deeply. “Herbs and onions,” he said.

  She nodded, her mouth ajar. “Dinner's ready,” she mumbled belatedly.

  He pulled her closer and kissed her. Slowly, intently, tenderly. “Béchamel sauce,” he noted in a deep voice and saw her licking her lips with closed eyes.

  “We could also … heat it back up again,” she suggested hoarsely.

  Severus smirked. “No. Now is fine. I'm hungry.”

  Hermione slumped her shoulders. “Okay,” she agreed in a disappointed voice.

  He laughed darkly. “Already keen on round two?”

  “Aren't you?” she taunted.

  “Merlin, no! I'm not a damn twenty anymore, Mia!”

  “Aww,” she jeered, “old man.” She bit her lip.

  Severus pulled her closer, firmly grabbed her bottom and let her feel his crotch. She squeaked in surprise. “Not that old,” he growled, snatched at her lip, and bit it himself. “But I'm still hungry.”

  She groaned and let her head slump against his chest. “All right.”

  Throughout the following days, the lesson plan Severus had drawn up for Hermione was suffering the most aside from the chores. It felt like they spent more time in bed (and on the settee and underneath a warming charm in the garden and one time even on the bloody kitchen table) than during all of the months before. They were insatiable. He'd have loved to blame it solely on Hermione but he was as much a sucker for her art of seduction as vice versa. 

  Sometimes, when Severus was unable to sleep at night he looked at Hermione and shook his head. This woman was twisting him around her little finger and he didn't even try to resist her. As far as he was concerned she could twist him around everything, he wouldn't complain.

  Actually, he was relieved. After his experience with Adia, he'd been afraid the torture he'd endured would still affect him. That he wouldn't be able to stand it if Hermione got close to him. But in fact, the past had so far only caught up to him once.

  It had already started when Hermione had straddled him. He'd instantly felt this tingling in his stomach that hadn't felt good in the slightest. But it was Hermione, right? He wasn't restrained, his hands were free to touch her, he could bend his legs, there was no wand torturing him with a Cruciatus if he tried to escape. It was all right, that was in the past. 

  But when she'd let herself slump on him and her hair – this wonderfully soft, fragrant hair – had suddenly been all over his face this tingling grew into a full-blown panic attack that he hadn't been able to talk himself out of. “Hermione, please … get off me,” he'd mumbled and shoved her away.

  The talk they'd had afterwards was one he'd prefer to forget. Not because it had been awful but because he'd felt awful. He didn't want to award Bellatrix the triumph of having a lasting effect on him. Nor Lucius. But his body had betrayed him.

  Hermione had pushed the hair from his face and looked at him as he probably sometimes looked at her. “We'll find a way to take this control back from her, Severus. Slowly, given time. And there will come a day when there's only you and me left in our bed.”

  He had the impression that she was more careful with him since then. That she observed him more closely, kept a watchful eye on his body language. On the one hand, he hated it; even that alone gave Bellatrix too much control. On the other hand, it had its benefits regarding the more pleasant aspects of these moments since she noticed more of what he enjoyed and didn't grow tired of giving him all of it. That helped tremendously to make his peace with it.

  But after about a week of idleness, Severus rediscovered a little piece of discipline and ordered her into the lab. “The potion we will cover today is anything but harmless. I will not put up with distractions, no ambiguous remarks, no moments of abstraction.” He looked at her intently. 

  “Okay,” Hermione said and tied her hair back. “What potion is it?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment. “A fertiliser for roses.”

  She gawked at him. Blinked. And grinned. “Really?”

  “Really. I'm not joking when it comes to this potion, Hermione.”

  Her eyebrows twitched. Hermione, not Mia. She gulped. “Why is this potion so dangerous?”

  “It has an insane amount of dangerous ingredients. Lynx hair, Erumpent fluid, dragon lung, phoenix feathers – all of it is easily explosive and inflammable. You have to understand this potion to be able to prepare it.”

  Hermione nodded and rose to her feet to fetch the ingredients. “What else do we need?” she asked with a tray in her hand.

  “Shrivel figs, fluxweed, jade powder, unicorn hair and the standard ingredients.”

  She carried all of it back to the table and started preparing the ingredients. Hermione stuck closely to his instructions, all of her questions were about the potion, she was just as focused as he was. After about three-quarters of an hour, the potion needed a period of rest and they began to tidy up the table. Hermione ran her hand across her forehead; even in this first period of preparation, the potion had revealed how tricky it was. How unpredictable, how unstable. One time, she'd added the ingredients slightly too fast and it had boiled up to spurt hot sparks. Another time, the fire had been a few degrees too hot and the potion itself had almost caught fire without even being in contact with it.

  “Why does a fertiliser for roses contain such dangerous ingredients?”, she questioned while she collected the quills of the phoenix feathers to put them aside; they could use them for another potion. “Who throws himself in such danger just for roses?”

  “It's worth it. Prices for roses fertilised with this potion are horrendous. Their blossoms are bigger, they are more resilient, their scent is stronger and sweeter and if the fertiliser is of good quality, their blossoms glisten. Some people pay vast sums of money for it.”

  She huffed. “And who came up with it? I mean … someone must have thought it a good idea to risk his life for a fertiliser.”

  He smiled, keeping an eye on the cauldron. “I asked my Master the same. The exact origin is not recorded, it is more of an oral lore.” A huge bubble rose in the potion and burst silently on the surface. Severus eyed it sceptically.

  “But there is a lore,” Hermione argued when he turned back to her.

  “Naturally. It was – unsurprisingly – about a woman.” Hermione arched an eyebrow. “A lot of good stories start with a woman, just like our reversal of the Vicissitudo Virtus.”

  A soft blush rose in her cheeks.

  He smirked. “However, this story is about a woman that was already spoken for. For the Potions Master, to be precise. They were about to get married when a floriculturist got to the village, enrapturing all of the women with his roses. Even the woman of the Potions Master.”

  “Of course,” Hermione mumbled and put her head in her hand listening to him.

  “The Potions Master couldn't let that happen. He was highly esteemed in the village and if his soon-to-be-wife left him so shortly before their marriage he would have been the laughing stock. So he ordered one of his servants to sprinkle the rose beds with a concoction that would deprive the ground of the nutrients so the roses would slowly die.”

  “How Slytherin of him,” she commented.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “There's no reason to drag Slytherin into this. All of this happened before Hogwarts was even founded.”

  “Doesn't mean there were no Slytherins.” She smiled innocently.

  “Be that as it may,” Severus ignored her argument, “after several days, everybody in the village spoke about the tragedy and the Potions Master noticed how heartbroken his wife-to-be was. She honestly only loved the roses for the roses' sake. So he sat down and concocted a potion that was supposed to help the roses.”

  “But it didn't,” she surmised.

  Severus nodded, stirring the potion once. “He brewed the potion and once again sent his servant to apply it. But it wasn't working. The roses kept dying. So he tried a richer agent.”

  Hermione sighed. “Have you ever noticed that at least three-quarters of all love stories would have been significantly less dramatic if the people would talk with each other before they act?”

  “I doubt it is only three-quarters,” he mused.

  A soft ringing interrupted them, the period of rest was over. Severus pushed the bowl holding the dragon lung at Hermione who reached for a pair of tweezers. “You have to let one piece after the other glide into the potion very carefully. Use the rim of the cauldron for support,” he said and watched her tensely.

  Hermione sighed a breath of relief when the last piece had been added to the potion. She put the tweezers aside and once again brushed the sweat from her face. “When brewing potions like this the fire is always hotter than normal,” she mumbled.

  Severus only smiled weakly. He observed the reaction of the potion and eventually pulled her back from the table. “With this potion, you can never be sure if it won't change its mind after all and ruin your lab table. Not before it is completed and safely stored away in a vial.”

  She gulped. “You're scaring me.”

  “Good,” he retorted and managed to use his old sneering teacher voice. Hermione wrinkled her nose. “There are few potions more dangerous than this. And most of them are considered Dark Magic.”

  “Well, if that's not encouraging …”

  Severus arched an eyebrow. “Be honest: You enjoy brewing this potion.”

  Once again she looked at him round-eyed. But then a grin spread on her face. “Absolutely!”

  “Everything else would have surprised me. Learn to understand it. Look at the foam that's forming.” He pointed at it. “If it turns yellow you should better extinguish the fire. Is it blue you can venture to let it simmer but keep a close eye on it. Is it red … Well, you better don't even try saving your lab.”

  Hermione swallowed. “Severus, is this yellow or red?”

  He narrowed his eyes and extinguished the fire. “Not sure yet …”

  The next moment, the foam turned a bright red. “Under the table!” Severus bellowed and when she'd disappeared he followed her.

  They waited for a few seconds then a loud bang made them wince, followed by a splashing sound. The potion sloshed over the rim of the cauldron and he pulled her deeper underneath the table to dodge the hot splashes of the potion. Hermione huffed. “What a mess …”

  “I thought you were familiar with it considering Longbottom's abysmal performances as your lab partner.” He still couldn't believe that idiot now owned an apothecary.

  “Just because I'm familiar with it doesn't mean it's not frustrating.” When everything was over she crawled out from under the table and carefully avoided the puddles of potion on the ground. “Is the potion now defused or do we still need to be careful?” she asked when she was standing upright again, patting dust off her trousers.

  “It's never wrong to be careful.” He followed her and scrunched his nose when he saw the disaster on the table and the floor. “But I think it is safe.”

  “Thank Merlin,” she mumbled.

  “We should analyse the remains to see what went wrong.”

  “Right!” she exclaimed and seemed to only then realise what had just happened. “You had a potion explode on you. You! How could that happen, Severus?”

  He arched his eyebrows. “What do you mean, on me? You worked so much on this potion, it could very well have been your fault.”

  She crossed her arms. “Let's find out,” she challenged him

  “Fine.” He looked at her for a moment longer, his eye merely two small slits. Then he scrutinised the melted remains of the cauldron holding little puddles of the dirty green potion that were still steaming. “Cool down the remains, I get a vial.”

  While Hermione slipped her wand into her hand, Severus turned around to the shelves. He took one of the glass vessels and cleaned the floor in passing. The potion had left dark burned spots. Oh, well. They could deal with it later.

  A small number hovered over the destroyed cauldron when he turned back to the table. 67° Celsius and it was declining. At 45° Celsius, Severus stopped her. “That's enough. Cooling it down too fast could change the potion.”

  Hermione stepped aside and Severus pointed his own wand at one of the puddles to fill a sample of it into the vial. “Why don't I pour it through a funnel?” he asked.

  “Because it shouldn't be moved and stirred unnecessarily?” Severus nodded while he let the potion float into the vial. “By the way, how did the story with the Potions Master end?” she then remembered.

  Severus just took a breath to answer when he noticed a small movement through the glass of the vial. A drop of the potion fell from the rim of the melted cauldron and right into a puddle beneath. 

  Severus lowered the vial and saw plumes of steam rise above the potion. Even without looking at the temperature that was still hovering above it, he could see that the puddle heated up quickly. Too quickly to do anything about it, even to get back under the table in time. He pulled Hermione behind him and accidentally dropped his wand. The clattering sound when it met the ground echoed strangely in his ears. Then he heard the explosion, felt a stinging sensation in his face, and then … nothing.

Chapter Text

  Shards of glass.

  There were shards of glass in … in his eyes. A sound. A voice saying something.

  Darkness.

  Something was throbbing.

  Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

  And with every throb, the shards were forced deeper into his eyes.

  His arm twitched.

  Then the voice again. This time, he understood what it was saying. “It'll get better in a minute, go back to sleep.”

  Darkness.

  The shards were sandpaper now. His eyes were sandpaper.

  What had happened?

  His thoughts waded through a thicket of fog and confusion. Finally the first clear thought: The potion. It exploded.

  Hermione!

  Severus groaned. He wanted to blink but he couldn't. He wanted to say something but his tongue disobeyed him. His heart was thumping heavily and with every beat, his head swelled to twice its size. Sluggishly he raised his hand and pressed the heel against his forehead. Ugh.

  Hermione!

  Whoosh whoosh whoosh.

  Easy! If he breathed calmly the throbbing had to lessen. It had to.

  But it didn't.

  He moved his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It was dry. He cleared his throat – and regretted it instantly. More throbbing, more pain.

  “Severus?” Hermione's voice sounded sleepily beside him.

  He gasped a sigh of relief. She could talk. That was good.

  “Wait, I'll give you a pain-relief potion,” she said and the mattress underneath him dipped before he sensed the cool rim of a vial against his lips. He wanted to lift his head but – more pain. So he let her tilt the vial a little bit more and the thick, sweet potion flowed into his mouth. Almost instantly the throbbing lessened.

  Severus swallowed. His tongue seemed decidedly more cooperative now. “Are you … all right?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Yes, I'm fine. You pulled me behind you, I just … caught a few splashes. It's long healed.”

  Severus turned his head in the direction her voice was coming from. “What happened to my eyes?”

  She sighed. “The potion burned them. I … I did what I could. For now, I sealed them. The potion I used to treat them needs time to take effect.” She exhaled shakily. “But I don't know if it -” Her voice broke.

  Severus raised a hand and met her arm, slid upwards across her shoulder and eventually found her face. “As long as you are all right …” He felt tears on his fingers and brushed them away.

  “I've been so scared for you,” she whispered and nestled closer into his palm.

  “And I for you,” he replied.

  “I'm fine,” she confirmed. “You were standing right in front of the cauldron and shielded me. Severus, what went wrong?”

  He shook his head a bit; now he was able to do it almost painlessly. “A bit of the potion … dripped into one of the puddles. I don't know why it reacted like this. Were you able to save the sample I retrieved?”

  Now he felt her shaking her head. “No. All that was left was polluted. I tried to take another sample later but everything is gone.”

  He sighed. In his mind, he went through every single step they'd done. Hermione seemed to sense what he was doing since she kept silent. She just held his hand. Eventually, he shook his head again. “We haven't made any mistakes. The potion shouldn't have reacted like this. I should not have exploded, to begin with,” he mumbled and frowned. It was hard to do, his skin felt stiff and swollen.

  Hermione lay down again, drew his arm around her shoulders and nestled her head in his armpit. “I was so scared,” she breathed again and kissed his chest.

  Severus pulled her closer.

   When he woke up next he heard her calm breaths next to him. The ticking of a clock. The rustling of the feathers in his pillow when he turned his head. He smelled Hermione. Her hair, her body scent. Her sleep warmth swathed him in it. And he felt the sandpaper in his eyes.

  He knew it wasn't possible but he still tried to blink. He had this belief, this deeply rooted certainty, that he only had to open his eyes and then he would be able to see. It had always been like that. He just had to … open his damn eyes!

  But he couldn't.

  He sighed softly. And wanted to run his hand across his face but his face was still injured and sensitive. He felt the remains of an ointment on his fingers and smelled it. Murtlap Essence. It'd got his face pretty badly if one treatment with Murtlap Essence wasn't sufficient. Hermione's scar ointment would likely get a new trial run.

  Hermione.

  She was breathing next to him and once again made these small sounds. This not-yet-snoring-but-eventually. He wanted to look at her. He wanted to see that she was all right. That she wasn't hurt as badly as he was. 

  But he couldn't.

  Severus curled his lip. Now he wasn't only trapped in this damn house but also in his head! There was no window he could look out of anymore, he only had the images in his mind, no way out.

  He sat up, unable to stay down any second longer. He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead although it hurt, didn't give a damn about the pain!

  “Severus?”

  He groaned. “Move over, I need the lavatory,” he mumbled and felt the mattress wobble when she skidded over.

  “Do you need help?”

  “No,” he snarled and almost overbalanced because his foot was stuck in the blanket. He stumbled a few steps and suddenly didn't know where he was anymore. He reached out his hands and carefully pushed his feet across the floor. There. He groped. The back of a chair. A bit more to the left. The next back of a chair, behind it the door frame. He found the handle and disappeared into the small windowless bathroom that he'd often used in the darkness of night and which was therefore probably the only room in this whole damn house he wouldn't have any difficulty finding his way around. 

  He sank onto the toilet and felt his heartbeat. What now? How long would it last until Hermione knew whether or not her potion would help him? And what if it didn't? What if he … stayed blind?

  Something ice-cold crawled up his back and strangled him. The air surrounding him got thinner and thinner and he felt as if he was sitting on a merry-go-round. He grasped the edge of the shower base beside him but the feeling didn't ease. He felt sick.

  Light! He needed light! He just had to see that … 

  Severus heaved dryly, he broke out in a sweat. Okay. Easy. Breathe! There was air. Enough air.

  Slowly the dizziness subsided, the nausea did as well. He started to shiver and when he was finished using the toilet and washing his hands, he fumbled his way back to the bed.

  “Are you all right?” Hermione asked in a strained voice. Anxious.

  “Yes,” he said and crawled under the blanket. Pulled it up under his chin and curled up on his side, his back turned to Hermione. She put her hand on his shoulder and a shiver ran through his body. But she said nothing and after a while, he heard her calm breathing again.

  Severus, however, found no rest. Obviously, it was night or Hermione wouldn't have fallen asleep so readily again. But he was awake. Images, scenarios, questions thundered through his head. What now? What now? Well, he would somehow find his way around in the house. They were living here long enough now and he had two healthy hands. Independent movement wouldn't be a problem. And he wouldn't need help with the basic matters either. Body care, getting dressed and undressed, movement. That he would manage.

  But things would get more difficult with eating. Was she supposed to feed him? Or should he only eat food that he could eat with a spoon from a bowl? How was that supposed to work?

  And how was he supposed to educate her in the future? He had to see the potions. He had to watch them – and Hermione as well. He had to see if she used the right ingredients and if she prepared them correctly. Even if she described everything to him in detail … What if he missed something crucial? What if a potion would explode once again and this time she couldn't … 

  No. Hermione's potion would work! It had to! It was impossible that he wouldn't … It would work.

  He hadn't slept another minute until Hermione woke up. He turned to her the moment he noticed a change in her breathing pattern. “How long will it take until you know if I will be able to see again?” he asked.

  Hermione stopped. “Um …” It sounded as if she brushed her face. “I-I don't know, Severus. A few weeks?”

  “Weeks?” he echoed in a horrified tone of voice.

  “Your injuries were really severe! I'm sorry it takes so long. I wish I could …”

  He raised a hand. “Never mind,” he said.

  Weeks. He pinched the bridge of his nose but surprise, surprise! That fucking hurt! Severus groaned. 

  “I have to treat your face once more before the wounds are completely healed,” she said softly. Very softly.

  He exhaled slowly. “It is … I …” He rubbed his teeth against each other. “I am sorry.” He took a deep breath. “Thank you for your help. Mia.” He almost beat the words out of his mouth. He felt repulsed to use a single one of them because the annoyance tasted like bile on his tongue and his fingers tingled and he had to let that out somehow!

  But it wasn't her fault. Not that the potion exploded, not that he had been in the way, not that he'd got so badly injured. It wasn't her fault and she was doing what she could. He could not lose her now. He had to … get a grip on himself somehow.

  She sighed. “It's okay, Severus. I'm here. I'm staying. We'll manage.” She put a finger onto his lips and replaced it with her own. 

  Severus relaxed into her gentle kiss. Mia. Her taste, her scent, her warmth against him. He sighed against her lips and then there was a burning sensation behind his sealed eyelids. He raised his hand and wove it into her hair, holding her head in place when she wanted to withdraw. Right now, he needed this kiss like air to breathe. He finally could breathe again! And the dizziness that overwhelmed him now was a good one. One that left this fuzzy feeling in his stomach. 

  Eventually, he let her go. “When was the explosion actually?” he asked.

  “Two days ago.”

  His eyebrows twitched.

  “I kept you asleep. Your injuries were very painful, it was better this way.”

  He nodded. “And what time is it now?”

  She reached across his chest for the clock that was standing on his bedside table. “Half-past eight.”

  He snorted. It was hardly surprising he hadn't been able to sleep anymore. Normally he would have been up for more than three hours.

  “You could have woken me up,” she said. Apparently, she could read his thoughts from his face.

  “I didn't know what time it was,” Severus grunted. His voice sounded more and more like his own. At least.

  “I'm sorry. I would like to treat your wounds once more before you take a shower.”

  “As you wish.”

  This time, she climbed over him and he heard how she opened a jar. Severus sat up on the edge of the bed. And then her fingers were on his face. She carefully massaged the ointment into the injured spots and Severus got a clearer picture of how badly his face was injured. Pretty badly, as it seemed.

  “Five to ten minutes, then you can shower. Do you need my help?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want me to … stay?”

  He groaned softly. “Go get yourself ready, Hermione. I'll call if I need you.”

  “Okay.” And then she left.

  It started very gently. 

  Severus's sleep pattern quickly went down the drain and was a complete mess after about a week. He hadn't slept that much before the accident but now he often didn't even do it at night. And honestly, how was he supposed to sleep at night when he didn't even know when it was night? He only could let himself be guided by Hermione but she'd always slept more than him and their sleeping patterns had never matched, to begin with. 

  Yet he sometimes lay down with her. Slept for a while. And was then lying next to her listening to the silent darkness. It was so quiet in this house.

  Yes, she was sleeping. But there were worse ways to be woken up, right? And his restlessness would have woken her as well, just like him getting up and leaving the room. So he traced his hand along her naked leg and when he slipped into her knickers she shoved said leg a bit to the side, giving him more space without waking up yet. Severus smirked. He spread her juices with his finger and circled her clit until she sighed softly. But she still wasn't awake entirely.

  He ventured between her folds and although his hand was under the blanket in her knickers he was sure he could smell her. Severus took a deep breath and sighed as well. A hot tingling sensation shot right into his groin.

  Hermione whimpered faintly, squirming under his hand, pushing herself against him. This, at last, succeeded in waking her up, her breathing frenzied. Severus slipped two fingers into her and a small cry escaped from her mouth. “Severus!” she gasped and clawed her fingers into his arm.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked in a deep voice.

  “No!” she panted and then, “Mmh!” And, “Yes!”

  He disappeared underneath the blanket and shimmied her knickers down her legs. Down here her scent was so heavy that his cock twitched. He moaned and rubbed his nose over her soft belly, through her locks, and across her clit. Hermione shuddered. Her legs were trembling beside his head.

  He pulled his fingers out of her and replaced them with his tongue. Mmmh, she was tasting so good and she moaned so loud that he almost came in his briefs. 

  And then something changed.

  He couldn't wait any longer. He didn't want to. He wrestled his briefs down and pushed into her. Hermione shrieked in surprise, found his shoulders and her damn fingernails scratched his skin sore! He thrust into her until she whimpered, he gasped and groaned and she screamed his name.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked once again when for a second he wasn't sure if she was screaming from desire or pain.

  “Don't you dare!” she uttered and looped her legs around his hips.

  And from that moment on, nothing was gentle anymore. They were like two wild animals, the blanket twisted around their bodies, sweaty, obsessed, unrestrained. Hermione put her hand to his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, so wild that their teeth collided. He bit her lip and she winced, then he tasted some blood. In return, she scratched across his back – on purpose! – and he moaned, bending it in reflex.

  Eventually, one of his thrusts pushed her over the edge and she melted underneath him into a shuddering, bucking mass, her muscles dancing around him and Severus followed her. He stiffened, spilling into her, hovering on a height that took every strain and frustration of the last week away, all the anger about spilled drinks and messed up foods, all the bruises from colliding with door frames and furniture, all the anger that had pent up in him - and collapsed. Panting, he heard her heartbeat race beneath his ear.

  “What was that?” she asked after a few minutes and brushed her fingers through his hair.

  He growled softly, making her sigh. “I couldn't sleep.”

  She chuckled. Then she began to giggle. And finally, she laughed.

  He joined in with his dark baritone, rolled off her, and pulled her into his arms. “Did I hurt you?”

  “You bit my lip!”

  He cocked an eyebrow, even though she most likely wasn't able to see it. “You scratched my shoulder. And my back! On purpose!” It was smarting!

  “I had to defend myself,” she canted and kissed his naked chest. “Do you think you can sleep now?”

  “Maybe for a while.”

  “Good.”

  “Hermione, what exactly does the potion look like?” Severus's voice had got decidedly sharper since they'd started their lesson.

  “Blue! It is just blue. Navy blue, relatively dark.” She sounded annoyed.

  “As if I'd know what navy blue looks like,” he muttered and ran his fingers through his hair.

  Since the accident two weeks ago this was their first attempt to continue the lessons. He'd insisted that they tried. He couldn't read, he couldn't write, he couldn't go into his Pensieve. Well, he could, but he could only hear what was happening in the memory. He neither saw the sea, nor the forest, nor Hogwarts. His mood was similarly balanced as the mood of Hagrid's strange breeding that he'd harboured years ago. How had he called them? Right, Blast-Ended Skrewts. His mood was exactly like that.

  Hermione had already opened his eyelids two times to administer another dose of her potion. And both of those times he had seen nothing. Absolutely nothing. Only darkness. The last time had been this morning.

  And bit by bit Hermione ran out of patience. “Severus, it looks as it is supposed to look!” Something clattered softly.

  “What was that?” he asked startled.

  “Tweezers! Only tweezers!”

  He huffed. “This won't work,” he mumbled and stood. Crossing the lab, he bumped into the corner of the work table, got annoyed because it was still happening and tried to stop himself from throwing down something on purpose. Preferably something that would shatter. 

  “Severus!” Hermione called after him but he waved her off and stumbled up the stairs.

  In the parlour, he fumbled his way to the glass cabinet that held a bottle of firewhisky. His fingers carefully traced the glasses and tumblers until he found the familiar neck of the bottle. He closed the cabinet again for if he didn't do it at once he would at some point bump into that as well. All cabinet doors that he didn't immediately close again got in his way eventually. As well as chairs he didn't push back under the table and dishes that he didn't immediately put into the sink. Things he didn't put back in their accustomed place were lost for him or he only found them again by chance or with Hermione's help. Not even magic was really helpful since everything he Acciod kept slamming into his face because he couldn't catch it. Everything outside of his bed felt threatening and uncertain, every sound made him flinch. He hated, hated, hated it that he couldn't see! He would have preferred to give up his magic again instead of his eyesight.

  But it wasn't as if he had a choice.

  He brushed something off the table when he was searching for the settee. Severus growled. He had to find whatever had fallen down, he would stumble over it if he didn't. So he put the whisky on the table and felt the floor with his hands. He found it halfway under the table. A glass. Not his. With a loud bang, he slammed it back onto the surface, braced himself on the couch and searched for the whisky.

  “You will not start drinking now!” Hermione. She was standing somewhere in front of him and apparently, she'd taken the alcohol.

  “That is not your decision to make,” he retorted sharply.

  “Right. But just think about it, Severus. You hardly find your way as it is. You already have balance problems. What do you think it will be like intoxicated?”

  He scoffed. “I will be either better or god-damn awful.”

  She sighed. “I wish you would talk to me.”

  “What am I supposed to talk about, Hermione? No words will give me back my eyesight!” He rubbed his forehead.

  “Alcohol won't do that either.”

  “No, but all of this is easier to bear when I'm drunk.”

  She was quiet for a while, then he heard a soft sound. Glass on wood. “I'll be sleeping in my room tonight,” she said blankly and her steps departed.

  Severus scrunched his nose and hid his face behind his hands. Something in his stomach was burning. He quenched it with alcohol.

  Hermione started to evade him and he couldn't blame her. He didn't like himself either.

  Probably she wouldn't want to be with him anymore. Nobody wanted to be with a sulky bastard.

  But their involuntary stay here didn't seem to get to an end soon. At least Hermione didn't mention any message from Albus. No hint that something was changing outside. Or that 'outside' still existed at all. But they kept getting food so at least the house-elves had survived.

  Since Severus couldn't be constantly drunk (Hermione had been right; being blind and sober was a ride – being drunk it was a ship amidst a storm), he'd been looking for a way to gain access to his books. He'd thought up a spell that would read the books to him. But only from the start and page by page. He had to adjust it, even he could not listen to a complete book at a time. Especially considering that he wasn't able to take notes. But at least it filled his empty time.

  Hermione didn't return to his bed for either of the following nights. Well, most of the time he slept when she was awake anyway. His sleeping pattern was a mess. But she slept in her room. He'd stopped drinking but that didn't seem to be enough.

  He missed her. Physically but especially emotionally. He missed her optimism. Her belief that everything would turn out fine. Without her, he was … kind of pointless.

  After she'd dripped her potion into his eyes for the fourth time he grasped her hands before she could leave. “Come back to me, Mia,” he softly pleaded and hated, hated, hated that he couldn't look her in the eyes.

  She was silent for quite a while but she didn't pull her hands away either. Then she did but only to turn his face to her and press a kiss onto his lips. “Okay,” she breathed and rested her forehead against his.

  “Professor Flitwick has sent you a game of chess.”

  Severus had given up training his eyes on her when she was talking to him. He couldn't look at her anyway, it was pointless. “Why?” he asked.

  She fell silent, probably because she was reading a letter Filius had sent along with the game. His letter. Severus wrinkled his nose. “At least read it out loud if you have to read my mail,” he sneered and shoved the bowl with porridge away.

  Hermione sighed. “Dear Severus, Albus told me that you are bored so I decided to send you something to occupy yourself. This chessboard has a counterpart in my office. If you move your pieces I will see it and vice versa. You start. I hope I can lighten up your mood a bit. With regards, to Mrs Weasley as well, Filius.”

  He rubbed his temple. “Marvellous,” he mumbled.

  “Yes, it is.” He wasn't sure whether she'd missed his sarcasm or whether she just ignored it. “Can you envision the board and remember where the pieces are standing? I could tell you which moves Professor Flitwick makes.”

  Severus frowned. That he hadn't thought about. “We can try.” He heard her shoving the breakfast dishes aside and putting something on the table. Assumedly the chessboard. Then the repeating sound of pieces being lined up. 

  “What move do you want to make?”

  He thought about it for a second, imagining the board and his pieces. “Pawn E2 to E4,” he then decided and heard Hermione do it.

  “Professor Flitwick will be in class, the term isn't over yet. Maybe he has enough time to make his move this afternoon. Wingardium leviosa!” Some seconds later he heard the board landing on the worktop to his left.

  Severus sighed, reached for his mug - and found only air. He'd ascribed his mug a constant spot on the table but Hermione had just pushed everything aside. “Hermione, where is my mug?”

  “Oh, sorry,” she said and put it back onto its spot.

  He hid his grumpy face behind it. Yes, he'd asked her to return to him. Yes, he was making an effort. But he wasn't a bloody saint! The accident had been five and a half weeks ago and still, nothing was happening. The day before yesterday she'd administered her potion again and still, he'd seen only darkness. “Is there even a point in still doing this?” he'd asked her moodily.

  “There is! Your eyes look better, Severus. Be patient!” had been her answer.

  Patience … If there was one thing he didn't possess it was patience. Their lessons were difficult to impossible. Working in the lab was impossible. He was too restless and too easily frustrated. With each potion, no matter how harmless it was, he was afraid to miss a crucial detail that could bring her into the same position as him. Or worse. Because he might forget to ask the right question and Hermione probably wouldn't notice the danger.

  So he'd given her theoretical tasks instead. Books she was supposed to read and essays she had to write about them. He could use his spell to let them be read out to him. But those essays had to be written first. Hermione was reading fast and she was working fast but even she needed some time.

  His impatience both regarding his eyes and the essays was putting pressure on her. She was on edge lately. Worn down. Sensitive. She tried to compensate for his moods, tried to be optimistic when he wasn't and calm when he flew into a rage. But she, too, only had a limited ability to suffer. And he passed this limit too often.

  She was sleeping in his bed again but often time he wasn't there. He'd given up trying to adapt to her sleeping pattern and she'd given up asking him for it. She could find no rest when he couldn't. Even being close to her didn't help. He fought against himself and his inability to control this rage every day. All of it just took too long.

  So they kept on existing, living their separate lives. But at least they were doing it consensually. She didn't reproach him for his bad mood anymore and instead just avoided him if she had enough of it. That probably was the only way they could get through this phase without falling apart. If it would stay a phase. If not … 

  Severus took a deep breath. “Do you want to continue with your tasks today or do you want to do an oral lesson?”

  “Is 'oral lesson' a euphemism for a test?” she asked warily.

  He arched an eyebrow. “No. An oral lesson is a lesson in which you ask me questions and I will answer, not the other way round.”

  “May I mark you afterward?”

  “Maybe we should make it a test,” he pondered.

  “No!” she called. “Oral lesson sounds great.”

  He chuckled and hoped that she felt the same. He urgently needed a break from his rage and theoretical potions could perhaps be it.

Chapter Text

  “Professor Flitwick moved his knight from C8 to G4.”

  Severus tilted his head recalling the chess board. They were playing this match for two days now because Filius only occasionally seemed to have time to make a move. Honestly, what was happening at Hogwarts that he wasn't able to play a game of chess in peace right before the end of the term? Even the exams should be done at this point.

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Knight from C8 to G4. He moved the piece in his head. “Move my knight from C4 to D5,” he finally said. 

  He heard Hermione bending forward in the armchair, making the move for him. Then she leaned back and probably resumed reading her book.

  Severus – still standing in the middle of the parlour – moved on, heading to the terrace. It was so quiet in the house and he couldn't stand listening to the voice of his reading charm for a single minute longer. Speaking of … “By the way, I notice it when you try to deceive me,” he said in a dark tone of voice, one hand already at the door. “Shrinking your writing on the parchment to fit the amount of three rolls onto two doesn't change the fact that I will exclude a part of your essay from marking.”

  Hermione sighed. “It was worth a try,” she mumbled.

  He snorted, then he went outside. The chirping of the birds was at least something.

  He slowly followed Hermione to her room when she'd fled from the breakfast table, only muttering a clipped excuse. He heard her steps on the stairs and in the upper hallway, then she turned left before it went quiet. 

  He found her easily. She was standing in front of the window and he put his arms around her from behind so her back leaned against his chest. She'd crossed her arms and clung to herself at first, then she clung to him. The silence was pressing heavily onto his ears. 

  “Will you tell me what is troubling you?” he murmured and dipped his nose into the locks that he could only vaguely recall in his mind. The scent and how they felt on his body had become a much more prominent memory than their looks.

  Hermione nodded. “Today. Today troubles me, Severus.”

  He frowned and tried to remember which day it was. Without a steady sleeping pattern days and weeks blurred into each other and only the day on which she tended to his eyes was an anchor to keep track of the process of time. So he needed a few seconds until he remembered. Today, a year ago, they'd arrived here. Today, a year ago, Hermione lost her child. “I'm sorry, Mia.”

  His hands slid down her body and Hermione stiffened. She withdrew from his embrace. “Don't be cross with me, Severus. I … I need some time, okay?”

  He nodded and took her face in his hands only to kiss her forehead. “I'm here if you want company.”

  “I know.”

  That evening, Severus sat on the settee in the parlour and let his charm read the newest edition of the Potio out loud. He was itching to try one or two of the new recipes. Some of them used combinations of ingredients he hadn't seen with any other potion so far, he found it hard to believe that it really worked. But if it wouldn't work it wouldn't have been published. He clicked his tongue, tracing the edge of the paper with his finger. 

  “Am I interrupting you?”

  Severus flinched when Hermione's voice suddenly cut through the charm's voice. “Pausa!” he said and it went quiet. “No, it's fine.”

  He heard her cross the room, then the settee beside him dipped. She put something on the table. When her movement caused a draft of air he heard the flickering of a flame. Apparently, she'd brought a candle. Then she drew her legs onto the cushion and as if they'd never grown apart she put her head into his lap.

  Severus raised the paper in surprise, hesitated, and – putting the Potio aside – he touched her arm with his right hand, weaving his left into her hair. “Filius made his next move,” she whispered.

  “That can wait until tomorrow.”

  She sighed and it sounded so exhausted, so worried, that he gulped.

  A week and a half later, it occurred to Severus that Hermione's withdrawal might not have been caused entirely by his moods. 

  The day before she'd opened his eyes for the … eighth time or so to administer her potion. But for the first time, he'd seen something. There had been more than darkness. There had been … “Light.”

  “Light?” she asked confused.

  “I see light, Hermione.”

  She gasped softly. “That's wonderful!” She put her hands to his face and kissed him – for the first time in weeks not only fleetingly but like she'd used to kiss him. With the longing for more.

  Severus sighed and returned the kiss as if he was dying of thirst and she the water he needed. His senses had become sharper, being robbed of the ability to see, he felt her more intensely. She tasted better. And her scent … Something about it had changed but he couldn't figure out what. And lately, they'd been too distant to approach such a topic. She didn't smell better or worse than before, just different. Maybe she used another soap. 

  “I told you it would work!” she eventually snapped him out of his thoughts, her hands still on his face, her forehead pressed against his.

  “Will you still have to seal my eyelids?” he asked. He hated not to be able to blink. He couldn't get rid of the feeling that he just had to open his eyes to be able to see. He'd had no chance to overwrite his old experiences. 

  “Yes, for a little while longer. When you can distinguish the first silhouettes I'll let them open. Then you'll need the sensory input. But for now, there's still some healing to do.” So she'd sealed his eyes once again. 

  But this moment when he'd seen the light had put Severus in a state of elation. His mood has been better since then. He finally had hope that he would get his vision back. That being blind would only be a temporary condition in his life. Just like so much else. Seemingly endless when he was in it but in hindsight, only a short period of time, even if this one lasted for about eight weeks now. If it would pass he could make it.

  But despite his even-tempered mood, Hermione kept her distance. Well, it had only been yesterday. Certainly, she would need some time to forgive him for his petulance. But there was one moment on this hot evening in the middle of July …

  Severus moved through the house almost without making a sound. Hermione was neither upstairs nor in the kitchen or the lab. But when he stepped into the parlour he heard the sparrows. So the terrace door was open. He approached it slowly.

  After all these weeks in darkness, he'd internalised the position of the furniture and how he had to move to avoid it. And because it was so hot he only wore soft trousers and a shirt. And because he was barefoot his steps were absolutely silent.

  Severus stopped at the terrace door and listened. Then he heard a page being turned, slightly left of him. He stepped over the small landing and put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. “Severus!” she almost jumped out of her skin and slammed her book shut. The muscles underneath his hand tensed. “Why are you still able to sneak up on me? It should be more difficult now!” she groused.

  He frowned. But not because of her words. It was the sound of her voice. Something was odd. “If you prefer to hear me earlier you only have to shift the furniture,” he replied serenely.

  She sighed. “No, that would be mean. Just as sneaking up on people, by the way!”

  “It is very Gryffindor of you to not get back at me,” he said in a dark tone of voice.

  She shivered underneath his hand. “And very Slytherin of you to take advantage of your new ability.”

  “I have even more new abilities.”

  “Without a doubt,” she mumbled. She was quiet for a few seconds. “I have to finish this, Severus.”

  He knitted his brows. “What is wrong, Mia?”

  “Nothing. What should be wrong?”

  “You cried,” he ascertained so confidently that her muscles tensed under his hand once again. The echo of tears. That was what he had heard in her voice. 

  “I didn't cry.”

  Yes, she had. But she wouldn't tell him the reason. He knew it, just as he knew that the settee was five steps away from the parlour door towards two o'clock. “Don't work too long,” he mumbled, kissed her crown and returned to the house.

  Something had changed between them and it was not only because of his mood.

  Severus fumbled his way down the stairs and stretched out his hand like he always did when he reached the knob at the end of the rail. Two steps later his fingertips met the rough surface of the wall and half a step to the left he found the door frame.

  The worktop was on the left side of the kitchen, above it the cabinets. He slid his hand along the edge of the worktop until he found the sink. Then he reached up, found the knob and opened the door to fetch a mug and a plate from the cabinet. He put both of them down on the worktop – and froze.

  Severus couldn't tell for the life of him what it had been but he was suddenly absolutely sure that he was not alone in the room. He raised his head. “Good morning, Mia,” he said.

  He heard her sigh behind him but she didn't say anything. Severus turned around, his hands still at the edge of the worktop and stopped just about where he supposed her to be. “What happened?”

  “We've got a letter from Professor Dumbledore.”

  His stomach tingled from a sense of foreboding. “What does he write?”

  “They found Professor McGonagall's rem…” She gulped. “… remains.”

  Severus felt himself sway and tightened his grip around the worktop. Minerva. Images emerged from the darkest corner of his mind. She in that undergarment. The loose hair. Her eyes. Blood.

  “Severus?”

  He took a sharp breath. “That's good,” he said hollowly. “So now she can finally get the funeral she deserves.”

  Hermione sighed. “He writes that they will lay her to rest on the third of August.”

  “That is Saturday next week, isn't it?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded and even if his eyes wouldn't have been sealed he would have closed them now. He would not be able to attend. Yet another person who had been important to him and that he couldn't bid farewell.

  Hermione grasped his hand. “I am sorry, Severus.”

  He shook his head. But he held onto her.

  Later that day he laid down on his bed fully clothed. It was so hot that he was sweating even though he only wore thin trousers and a shirt and lying on the bed like this didn't make it any better; but since Hermione had told him about Minerva this morning he felt dizzy and a bit nauseous and he needed a break.

  He felt his heartbeat echo in his head, an unpleasant but not painful sensation. Not yet. He'd often had a headache during the last few days. The weather and maybe his eyes that could now distinguish the nuances between light and dark with more ease each day. Of course, for him, it was just several nuances of grey but at least he had a clue when it was day and when night.

  There was a soft rap, probably on the door frame since he'd left the door open. “May I enter?”

  He bent his arm and put his head onto it. “Of course.” She was always allowed to come into his room – but she rarely did so lately. Something … was wrong. More than the anniversary of her child's death and the upcoming birthday of Potter and her marriage day. Something between them … was odd. But when he asked her she denied it. Apparently, she wanted to deal with it on her own.

  The mattress wobbled and Hermione sighed softly. “Are you all right?”

  Severus exhaled slowly. “No.”

  She moved closer to him. A wave of heat rolled through him but even if she'd set him on fire he wouldn't have moved away from her. He extended his left arm and she nestled against him. Her forehead was damp as well when he kissed it.

  He was already on the brink of asking her once again what it was that she kept from him but then he didn't.

  “I am so very sorry, Severus,” she whispered.

  “What do you see?” she asked him the next day after she'd opened his lids and examined his eyes.

  “Light and dark, a silhouette or two. I recognise the door.” It was a dark rectangle on a light surface that had to be the wall.

  “Okay. Then I will leave your eyes open now and we'll continue with another potion.”

  He heard the sound of glass on wood next to him but more than that he saw that something was moving! He could discern Hermione's frame and for a second that was so overwhelming that he held his breath. 

  “Severus, what's wrong?” she asked in surprise when she turned back to him.

  He almost wanted to ask her what she meant but then he felt it himself. His eyes had watered, two tears were running across his cheeks. Before he could do it himself Hermione brushed them away, let her hands rest on his face and kissed him. “I can't drip the potion in your eyes when you're crying,” she whispered. There was a smile in her voice.

  “I'm not crying,” he growled although he did.

  “But?”

  “It's just because of the light.” And before she could object he pulled her closer and silenced her.

  There was a knock on his door as Severus was buttoning up his shirt. “Enter,” he hummed but he didn't turn around. It had to be a rainy day since all he could see when he looked out of the window was grey. 

  “A memory arrived through the pantry,” Hermione said.

  Severus froze. He closed his eyes and leaned against the table. “Albus,” he mumbled. Minerva's funeral.

  “Yes.”

  “Didn't you tell him that I'm still as good as blind?” he asked and it sounded sharper than he'd intended to.

  “No. I told him nothing about … the accident. I wasn't sure if you would want it.”

  He hummed. He would not. “So why do you tell me when I am unable to see it?”

  “Because …” she began, broke off, and sighed. “You can see it, Severus.”

  He scoffed. “How? Do you think I can distinguish the many shades of grey and deduce the rest?”

  “You can see it through my eyes. Use Legilimency while I watch the memory.” His angry frown softened when he had a moment to think about her words. He turned around. “Don't look at me like that, Severus. You have to see it – I can see it. It is only logical. So sit down.”

  He heard her walk past him and retrieve his Pensieve from the wardrobe. She put it on the table with a soft clank, opened the vessel Albus had sent the memory in and poured it into the Pensieve. He could even see the shimmering. Then she pulled out a chair, sat down and waited for him to do the same.

  He only did so reluctantly. And then he reached for her hand and found it at once – as always. Hermione huffed. “Honestly, it is scary how you always exactly know where I am.”

  “I can feel you.”

  She returned his grasp. “I wish I could feel you, too.”

  “No, you don't,” he replied.

  Hermione nodded. Then she raised his hand to her lips and kissed his fingertips. “Do it before I lose my focus.”

  Severus nodded and drew his wand with his free hand, mumbling a soft “Legilimens!” Hermione had emptied her mind, there was no memory, no thought, no emotion that could distract him – except for the love she felt for him. Then she opened her eyes.

  He couldn't even begin to describe how it felt to be able to see clearly again after more than two months. The Pensieve on the table, her hand holding his, his wand, himself. Severus exhaled sharply. There were no traces of the accident left on his face. He looked like he remembered himself.

  Hermione took a deep breath. “Are you ready?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She raised her wand and darkened his room. Then she let the memory of Minerva McGonagall's funeral rise above the Pensieve.

  “I want to try teaching you again, Mia.” They were sitting on the terrace, the sun was setting, the sparrows were chirping in the bushes, the cooling charm gradually lost its effect and the evening warmth covered him like a cloth making it hard to breathe.

  “Practice or theory?” she asked warily.

  “Practice. If I fully illuminate the lab I might be able to see enough.” She was sitting on his left side, as always, and he looked at her even though he could make out barely more than her silhouette. Her face was a brighter blob, surrounded by a wreath of brown. 

  “Why don't we wait a little longer? Your vision gets better every day.”

  He growled softly. “I need something to do. I'm tired of playing chess and reading books.”

  She was silent for a while. “Okay. Let's try.”

  Severus nodded. “Very well.”

  About two weeks later Severus placed an order in the pantry. He was asking Albus for glasses. There were magical glasses able to automatically match their visual acuity to the wearer's needs. Even if they wouldn't give him twenty-twenty vision at once they could maybe help him see a little better.

  He hoped that Albus would be able to make out his note. He'd written it outside on the terrace in the bright sunlight, in big letters and with wide spacing. Albus would certainly have questions. But as long as he sent glasses along with his questions Severus was fine with it.

  Afterwards, he went downstairs and prepared the lesson for the day. With sufficient light and a little help from Hermione, he was indeed able to teach again. Of course, he didn't approach dangerous or challenging potions at the moment but he could see enough to let her compare some more ingredient calculations to the measurements in the recipes. By now, he only told her the desired effect of a potion and a list of ingredients and – after she'd done the calculations – let her make her own guesses for the corrections. She got better, she began to understand the relations and got to know the ingredients.

  He used potions that he already trusted himself to brew correctly and savoured it a lot to be back at the cauldron after almost three months. Playing chess with Filius was good – brewing potions was better.

  If he could also find out what was troubling Hermione he would indeed be content. But being in her mind had soothed him. She still loved him, that was not the problem. On the one hand, that gave him hope, on the other hand, he still knew nothing more about what caused her to keep her distance. She'd meticulously hidden every thought, every memory of it from him. She was a better Occlumens than he'd thought.

  Hermione entered the lab about half an hour later. “Have you had breakfast already?” she asked.

  “I wouldn't call it breakfast, it's just dawning. But I already ate, yes. You?”

  “No. But I'm not hungry either, it can wait. What are you planning for today?” She approached the table. “Another comparing project?”

  “No. I thought we could start making Felix Felicis. Have you already brewed it before?”

  “I only read about it. I never had enough time for it.” She was silent for a second. “Do you think we will be here for another six months?”

  Severus raised his eyebrows. “I don't know. But even if we will get out earlier we will find a way to continue the project.”

  “Yes …” she mumbled pensively.

  It was early in the morning and still dark when Severus sleeplessly ghosted through the house. He really tried and yet he still didn't manage to return to a normal sleep pattern. He avoided sleeping throughout the day but the days got shorter and he just couldn't sleep more than four hours at once. 

  Wandering the house in the dark wasn't a problem for him anymore. And because he'd forgotten it the day before he went to the pantry and looked to see if Albus had finally sent him glasses. 

  It had been three days since he'd put the note in the pantry. Long three days. But now he indeed found something. His heart skipped a beat when his fingers detected the narrow case. Severus slipped his wand in his hand and illuminated the pantry, then he opened the case and put on the glasses. 

  For several seconds, he didn't dare open his eyes. The frame tingled on the bridge of his nose. What if it didn't work? What if his eyes weren't yet healthy enough? He hadn't discussed ordering glasses with Hermione. He didn't want to hear her objections, he was running out of patience, he finally wanted to be able to properly see again!

  But if it was still too early … His mood had been stable during the last weeks and still, his relationship with Hermione had been distanced. If it was too early … 

  Severus pursed his lips, then he blinked.

  He saw the rack behind the table. He saw one, two, three shelves, jars with preserved fruits and vegetables on them. He narrowed his eyes a bit and … yes, he could even read the labels. He huffed and ran his hand across his mouth. It worked. It wasn't too early. 

  The glasses were working!

  His vision wasn't perfect and still a bit blurred. But compared to his vision without glasses it was hardly noticeable and would probably get better during the next weeks. 

  His fingers were trembling when he reached for the letter Albus had sent as well.

Severus,

I do hope the glasses will be of help. I cannot wait to hear what has happened when we see each other again.

Albus

  “You will not like to hear what I will have to tell you,” Severus mumbled and rolled up the short letter. “Not in the slightest.”

  There was a tingling in his veins. Something huge scurried through his stomach. And one single thought circled in his mind: Hermione. He wanted to share this moment with her. No matter what was going on between them right now, she should be a part of this. Without her, he wouldn't have got to this point.

  So he left the pantry and while he ascended the stairs his gaze wandered through the small window showing the front of the house. The sun was just rising. A soft tint of rose illuminated the blurred horizon and ousted the dark of the night. Severus watched it for a few seconds, then he went on.

  Hermione had slept in his bed, first with him next to her, now alone. The curtains only admitted a little bit of sunlight in the dim room, he could hardly see anything. Severus hesitated but then he went to the window and carefully pushed the curtains aside. He wanted to wake Hermione and he wanted to see her eyes when she woke up. After about three months he finally wanted to look her in the eyes again.

  But when he turned around to the bed he saw something else. Something that caused him to freeze. Something that caused him to frown. Something that caused him to clench his fists in a sudden understanding.

Chapter Text

  Severus had silently taken a chair from the table and sat down about two steps away from the bed. He'd crossed his legs, one knee above the other, put his hands on his thighs, and now he was waiting. The sun rose, light crept across the floor towards the bed – Hermione would wake up soon.

  His eyes were fixed on her stomach. The thin blanket, barely more than a sheet, only half covered her chest, her cotton vest was rolled up, a stripe of fair skin was exposed over the waistband of her knickers. The waistband that ran tightly across a small bump. 

  Severus knew Hermione's shape. She was a lean person, her stomach normally flat, he'd touched and kissed it often enough. That it was no longer flat now was certainly not due to too much food, on the contrary; she'd lost much of her appetite during the last weeks. And now he knew why.

  His heart was thumping furiously in his chest while he waited for Hermione to wake up. Of course, he could have made her. But this … He wanted her to realise that he knew on her own. He wanted to see that realisation slowly seep into her mind. Or very suddenly. However, he wanted to see the moment when she understood.

  She woke up slowly. Her breathing pattern changed. Her fingers twitched. Then she took a deep breath and blinked, obviously confused by the brightness in the room. She turned her head on the pillow – and spotted him. “Severus,” she mumbled. And yawned, “What are you doing?”

  Only when she blinked again she noticed the glasses.

  And froze.

  Her eyes widened, her breath hitched, she gulped. Then she raised her head and looked down at herself. Saw her exposed little bump. And pulled the sheet over it.

  Severus arched an eyebrow.

  “I-I can explain,” she said and sat up. Her hair was a nest on the back of her head. She brushed a few loose ones from her face. 

  “I'm waiting,” he replied coolly. 

  She met his gaze. Gulped again. Tears welled in her eyes. “I … I'm so sorry, Severus,” she breathed.

  “Is that your explanation?”

  She shook her head. Brushed the first tears from her face. “No. I … It …” She broke off.

  She simply broke off!

  Severus put his feet on the ground and leaned forward. “What, Hermione? What were you thinking?” he asked delicately. “Did you think I would stay blind so long that you would never have to tell me? Did you think we would get out of here soon so you could break up with me and never have to tell me that you're bloody pregnant with my child? What, Hermione? What were you thinking?” His voice grew louder with every word and when he spat out the last she flinched.

  Looking up at him, her chest quivered from suppressed sobs. Her eyes, her beautiful brown eyes, swam with tears. He couldn't see her all clearly, everything was still a bit blurred. But he could see enough. He could see that her brain was empty. That her train of thought had hit a brick wall and she didn't have the slightest clue of what she was supposed to tell him. He'd seen this expression on too many students' faces to not recognise it.

  Severus scrunched up his nose, huffed derisively and rose to his feet. Then he left. After he'd been sitting beside the bed for half an hour, silent and composed, waiting for her to wake up, he now couldn't do it for a single second longer. 

  And that seemed to snap her out of her shock. “Severus!” she cried and he heard her get up and follow him. He was halfway down the stairs when she appeared at the top. “Severus, wait! Please, let me explain!”

  He whirled around. “How do you want to explain this, Hermione?” he bellowed. “You are pregnant! And you know it since … how long? One month? Two? Long enough to tell me! How do you think you can explain this away?”

  “I don't know!” she wailed. “I just don't know. The whole time I had no clue how to explain this. Severus, please!” She approached him on her bare feet but he turned and swiftly descended the remaining stairs.

  His pulse was racing, his cheeks throbbing, Hermione's words were swallowed by a noise in his ears. He wanted to scream and throw something against the wall. He wanted to scream at her. Words were piling up in his head, questions, emotions, and it felt like all of this was going to rip his head in two. His head and his chest and maybe even his stomach. How … How had she been able to do this? How had she been able to keep this from him?

  “Severus!”

  He'd turned towards the parlour when she caught up with him and reached for his hand. He tore it away as if she'd burned him with her touch, though. Staring at her, rage bubbled up inside him, so much that he could strangle her with his bare hands right now. “Was this your plan?” he hissed instead. “Did you only want … this from me?” Oh yes, he knew he was unfair. He knew that she loved him, he'd felt it. But he wanted this moment to hurt for her as much as it hurt for him. He wanted … 

  … exactly this reaction from her. This sharp hissing breath. That her tears suddenly ran dry. That she stumbled back as if he'd pushed her. “No,” she said and shook her head violently. “How dare you say that?” Now she frowned, now she scrunched up her nose. “Do you really believe that?”

  He scoffed. His eyes twitched to her belly. Something tightened around his chest. A child. She expected a child. His child. He ran his hand over his face, completely forgetting his glasses. He took them off lest they slipped from his face, and his vision mercifully faded and blurred again. Hermione wasn't more than a moving silhouette in front of him. He wished he could just as easily unsee what he had seen.

  Hermione touched his arm. “Please, let us talk, Severus. Let me explain.”

  Once again he withdrew from her touch. Put the glasses back on. “Now you want to talk?” he asked in a bitter voice. “I wanted to talk all the time, Hermione. All the time during the last weeks I asked you what the hell is wrong.”

  Her chin started to tremble again. New tears welled in her eyes, cascaded down her face. He could see her pulse racing. “I am so very sorry,” she said again.

  “What exactly are you sorry about? That you didn't tell me or that I found out?”

  He waited for one, two, three heartbeats but Hermione was just standing there, silently. Then he turned around and went outside. Out into the cool morning air. He almost expected her to call his name again but she did not.

  They didn't speak a single word with each other, the whole day passed in silence. Hermione certainly would have liked to talk; she loitered in his vicinity more than once, at the door frame or in the hallway, on the third from the last step of the stairs leading down into the lab. She was always there. And he always ignored her.

  He knew that he acted inappropriately. He knew that they had to talk about this. But every time he looked at her something deep inside his stomach burned so viciously that it took his breath away.

  In the afternoon, he tried to distract himself by playing chess. Filius had started a new match and he'd played along. Then Hermione appeared at the parlour door. Blotchy face, tears in her eyes, wringing her hands. He scowled at her and she left.

  Severus closed his eyes but the burning in his stomach became so bad that he uttered a deep growl and brushed the chess pieces from the board. He closed his eyes, his heart thumping wildly, and sat there for a few minutes. And when he blinked the chess pieces were flying through the air, returning to their squares. Severus scoffed, swallowed the pain and kept on playing.

  Now, late in the evening, he sat in the dark parlour at the dining table. The terrace door was open, the evening breeze seeping into the house and cooling his fiery temper. He'd taken off the glasses, put them on the table in front of him, hiding his face behind his hands. His nose and his ears hurt where the glasses had been sitting, they still felt strange on his face. And not only that. They fogged when he drank something hot. They always slipped down his nose. And he'd had stains on them all day, even if he hadn't touched them. He groaned tiredly.

  “Severus?”

  He winced and raised his eyes. Blurry darkness. But something was moving beside him. That had to be Hermione, then. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What?” he asked groggily.

  She pulled the chair opposite him from under the table and sat down. Her feet briefly brushed his until he drew them back. Now she was a shadow in front of the open terrace door. “Please, allow me to try to explain it,” she pleaded. Tears were muffling her voice.

  He waved his hand and closed his eyes. He couldn't see much anyway and he didn't want to put on those glasses back on. He'd already seen more than he'd ever wanted to see.

  “When I … noticed,” Hermione began, “the accident had only been a few days ago. You were extremely unwell. You were drinking. I … didn't dare tell you about it. I thought I … just wait a little longer. Until you were better. Until you … got used to your condition.” She was silent for a few seconds. “But every time I looked at you I … lost my nerve. I didn't know how I was supposed to explain this. I don't understand how it could have happened myself.” She exhaled shakily.

  Severus snorted. “I can tell you how it happened.”

  “No!”, she blurted, “No, you can't! I am not stupid, Severus. I know how getting pregnant works. The first time, I … forgot to take the contraceptive potion. The first time, it was my fault. But now … I did not forget it, Severus! And you were there when I brewed it!” Her breathing accelerated. “I did not forget it! I don't know why I am pregnant! And I … didn't know how I was supposed to explain it.”

  He said nothing. Yes, he had been there when she brewed the potion. Not with his full attention but attentive enough. She'd made no mistake.

  Eventually, she resumed, “I know that you don't want children. At least … not now. You were always so cautious that I took the potion. I know that … And I was afraid I would lose you. I was afraid that you would leave me when you learned that … I still managed to get pregnant somehow. I was afraid that you would think exactly what you accused me of this morning. That I only slept with you because I wanted a child. But that's not true, Severus!” She grasped his hands which were now lying on the table. He let her. “Do you hear me? It is not true! I love you! That's why I'm with you. That's why I had sex with you. And I would have given up having children for you. It was never that important for me anyway. But …”

  He gulped and moved his tongue across the roof of his mouth. “But now everything is different,” he said in a dark voice.

  “Yes. I don't know how it could happen but now I am pregnant. And I want this child. And I want you. And I am afraid that …” She paused and her voice trembled when she went on, “I am afraid that I can't have both.” She took away one of her hands, maybe she brushed the tears from her face. “I couldn't face that. I couldn't risk losing you.”

  “You should have told me,” he insisted weakly.

  “I know.”

  She should have … She should … The thought faded in the chaos that was his mind, just like the burning in his stomach faded into nothingness. Only emptiness remained. He felt sore. Not physically but emotionally. He felt his body getting heavy. An enormous weight sank onto his shoulders, pressing him down onto the tabletop.

  And yet, he raised his gaze. Her face wasn't more than a black spot in front of the grey rectangle that was the terrace door. As if it wasn't Hermione. As if she wasn't even here. His breathing got laboured thinking about this possibility. He wished he wouldn't be able to imagine a life without her anymore. But he was and it was horrible.

  Severus rose to his feet without letting go of Hermione's hand, pulled her from her chair and into his arms. He held her as close as he hadn't held her for weeks and said, “I can live without my magic. I can live without my vision. But I can't live without you, Hermione. Not anymore.”

  She sobbed loudly and her knees buckled underneath her. He grasped her tighter, holding her upright until she caught herself. Then she looped her arms around his chest. Cried so violently as if he'd just broken up with her instead of promising to stay. At this moment, when he was holding her close, he realised how hard her last weeks had been. How huge her fear, how desperate she had been. And suddenly it didn't matter anymore that she'd said nothing. Suddenly it wasn't important. Suddenly he only wanted her to be well again.

  He took her face and kissed her forehead. It was hot, almost feverish underneath his lips. Then he searched for her lips and tasted her tears on his tongue. “I love you,” Hermione whispered. Her fingers were cold on his chest, even through the fabric of his shirt, and she shivered.

  Severus nodded. “Let's go to bed,” he said and after he'd closed the terrace door they did exactly that.

  A few minutes later she was lying at his side and he held her close just as if he was still at risk of losing her. As if it had been him being afraid for her all the time. And just then he realised that he'd been exactly that. Just like Hermione, he had been constantly afraid to lose her during the last weeks. He maybe hadn't suffered exactly like her but he'd shared her fear. He'd felt her slip away from him and nothing that he had done had stopped it.

  He exhaled slowly when adrenaline pulsed through his body. His chin at her forehead, his hand on her back. He pulled her closer and woke her a little bit up again. “I love you too,” he mumbled into her hair.

  Hermione took a sharp breath and held it. As if she wanted to hold on to this moment as much as she wanted to hold on to him. But it passed and she had to exhale eventually and time went on and dragged them along.

  Time.

  Severus gulped. “Merlin, I hope Albus gets us out of here early enough.”

  The next morning, Hermione woke him. Or rather her mouth. Her mouth on his nipples. Her mouth on his stomach. Her mouth on his … 

  Severus moaned and ripped his eyes open. He clawed his hands into the mattress and raised his head to look down. But he only saw blurred blobs. One of them was his skin, another probably Hermione's hair. He wanted to grope for his glasses but she slowly licked along the bottom of his hard-on and a wave of arousal made him shiver. “Herm—mione!” he gasped and forgot the glasses. He didn't have to see what she was doing. Even unseen it was good. So good!

  “Good morning,” she mumbled innocently while her hand massaged his balls. Gently and slowly. Then her tongue danced across his glans again and he sighed. Arching his back, he pressed his cock deeper into her mouth. He grasped her hair; it was a bit tangled after the night but so soft.

  Severus was breathing heavily, his legs were trembling and everything, everything in him tightened. She slid her tongue over his hot skin, gently scratching it with her teeth. She moaned and he grunted, “Sweet Salazar!” when the sound of her voice sent a hot chill straight into his groin. His cock twitched and Hermione's fingers returned to that gorgeous spot beneath his balls. He laughed throatily.

  “I've still got plans,” she briefed him in a dark voice, so dark, so full of desire as he had never heard her before. And oh! It turned him on as much as his voice turned her on and when her hot mouth covered him again, sucking and pleasuring him, the dry climax rocked him like a bucking broom. He thrust his hips forwards, two, three, four times, and shuddered, curled his toes, breathed raggedly, his pulse thumping in his ears.

  Hermione's face, a blurred blotch surrounded by a brown wreath, appeared in his field of vision. Her hand kept on caressing his still-hard cock and now he searched for his glasses in earnest. He wanted to see her. Really see her. Severus moaned when he finally put them on. “There you are,” he mumbled.

  “Hi,” Hermione replied and came over him, kissed him, hungry and ardently. “I missed you so much,” she said against his lips.

  Severus's hand slid down her torso, into her knickers and between her legs. She was so wet that he easily could slip two fingers into her. Hermione tore her mouth open, moaning. “I see,” he purred close to her ear and she shuddered. “Wasn't my fault.”

  Hermione whimpered, biting down on her lip. She supported herself beside his head while he circled her clit with his thumb and tried to find that spot inside of her – successfully. She cried softly, thrusting down onto him. “Severus,” she breathed, her eyes closed, her head bent back. “Yes, right there! Mmhh!”

  He smirked and put his free hand on her neck, pulled her head down and kissed her. Her hair tickled his face, her scent – this new scent - his nostrils, and he had to tense his pelvis to not come again at once. She drove him crazy! Seeing the passion in her face, feeling her around his fingers, hearing her voice – she was so beautiful that it drove him out of his mind.

  And then he flicked his thumbnail across her clit and Hermione bit him in surprise when she came so suddenly, so violently that she almost collapsed onto him, whimpering and trembling. “Let go,” he said against her ear and she did. She slumped down onto him, her face hot against his neck. Groaning deeply, she rubbed her nose against his skin.

  “You smell so good,” she sighed. “I've never noticed it so much before but … Merlin, you smell so good, Severus.” She licked along his neck as if she wanted to taste him. As if she wanted to see if he tasted as good as he smelled. And then she sucked at his skin and gave him the next damn love bite!

  Severus sighed and rolled his eyes. Her weight on him, her warmth, her tongue on his neck. Her mouth that had just been between his legs. And then, suddenly, the thought that she was pregnant. Pregnant with his child. Severus's hands glided into her hair and he lifted her head until he could look her in the eyes. “You,” he said. Only this single word and he sounded almost bewildered. Bewildered because she really shared his bed. Because she really wanted him and he her and because they were finally finding each other again after all these weeks.

  Hermione took his hand and kissed his palm. Then his fingers. And then she sucked them into her mouth and tasted herself on them. She groaned and ground down against him. “There's too much fabric,” she mumbled, doffed her shirt and let Severus push down her knickers. He had slept only clad in his briefs and she'd already pulled them down to his knees before she'd woken him as she'd done.

  “Better?” he rasped when her skin touched his.

  “Better.” Her eyes were dark when she groped his erection and positioned herself above him. But then she paused. “Is this okay, Severus?”

  He nodded. “It's perfect.” No, this time, Bellatrix wouldn't share the bed with them. Never again if he had his way. 

  Hermione sank onto him and sat up, beginning to move. Her breasts bobbed in time to her movements. Severus reached for them and carefully caressed her nipples. They were darker than he remembered. Hermione sighed and arched her back towards him. Merlin, she was so hot around him. He gasped and sat up. Plundered her mouth, pulled her closer and felt the slight curve of her bump against his stomach, probably only because he'd just seen it; her pregnancy wasn't that far along that he could realistically feel it.

  Severus supported her movements, met her halfway, and this time he found this spot between his balls and his anus himself and he pressed down firmly when he felt his climax coming. He didn't want this to end now. They had to catch up so much, had waited for too long.

  He opened his mouth wide and moaned throatily, his muscles clenching, trembling, twitching. Hermione watched him, gnawing on her lip again, and sighed. She drew her fingers through his hair while he tried to catch his breath and his composure. “You look so vulnerable when you come,” she said softly.

  “You make me vulnerable,” he countered. “Vulnerable and soft and sentimental.” His voice vibrated in his body and hers, he started moving again and with each word, he thrust into her, “With you, I forget to be myself. With you, I'm another person, Mia.”

  “Mia,” she sighed and clung to his shoulders.

  “Yes,” he breathed. The tip of his nose brushed across this little hollow of her throat, his tongue followed, Hermione shuddered. “You are mine. Mia!” She cried softly, dug her nails into his skin and her muscles trembled around his cock. He growled and sucked on her neck. If he had a damn love bite so would she!

  She looped her arms around his neck and he heard her laboured breathing. “Yours,” she mumbled. Her fingers wove into his hair, the tingling sent goosebumps down his spine. A heavy musky scent was in the air, his and hers. She stayed on him, savouring the echo of her orgasm. His bloody glasses fogged again because of the heat of her body against his.

  When Hermione sat up and looked at him, she chuckled. “Wait a second,” she mumbled and reached for his wand. She tapped it against his glasses and said, “Impervio!” The fog disappeared. “I want to see your eyes.”

  Severus tilted his head. Since he'd found the glasses in the pantry yesterday, he hadn't taken a look into a mirror, not even once. “Are they the same as before?”

  Hermione nodded. “Yes. As before. Dark like two black holes. I want to fall into them and never resurface again.” She put her lips on his.

  He moaned into her mouth. Greeted her tongue with his own and circled it hungrily. Then he tensed up and rolled them around so he was towering over her. She squeaked in surprise, gasped and giggled. His wand slipped from her hand and clattered to the ground.

  Severus slid out of her almost completely and slowly back in. She was so wet that he didn't feel any resistance, only her mind-twisting heat and tightness around his cock. He desired her so much that it almost hurt – both in his chest and in his balls that were clenching slightly. He paused and waited for a few seconds. Not yet. Leaning his forehead against hers, he murmured, “You're killing me. I'm fucking forty-three years old and feel like a damn teenager when you're underneath me. Unbridled and unrestrained and hopelessly in love.”

  Hermione whimpered and shoved her pelvis against him. “Sev…  Severus,” she stammered, “keep going, don't stop!”

  He growled deep in his throat and felt for her clit. Kneaded it, pinched it gently, rubbed his fingernail over it until Hermione twitched and screamed underneath him. She arched against him and he thrust three, four, five times more into her and then … then he passed the point of no return. His balls tightened and he stiffened over her and she … she wasn't ready yet. But she looked at him, very closely, as if she could miss something if she just as much as blinked. Severus spilled himself into her, his breath trembled, his lips trembled, everything trembled. For a moment, his vision turned black and his arm buckled underneath his weight. He slumped down beside her, one arm slung over her stomach, and caught his breath. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled eventually.

  “What?” she asked and brushed his face.

  “Too early,” he grunted against her skin.

  She raised his face until he was looking at her, and smiled. “It was perfect. You here with me … that we're doing these things … this is perfect. And watching you come is as good as experiencing it myself. I love how you look when you come.” She leaned closer and kissed his nose. Severus arched an eyebrow. She laughed. “Too girly?” she inquired.

  “Absolutely,” he grunted.

  So she caught his lips and that was better. A lot better. The arousal slowly subsided and left him tired and exhausted. His eyelids grew heavy. He took his glasses off and put them back onto the nightstand. Pulled Hermione closer and slipped one leg between hers.

  “Don't tell me you want to sleep,” she said, brushing her fingertips over his arm.

  “I told you you're killing me,” he mumbled against her temple.

  “Ah, that's rude indeed.”

  “Very much so.” And then sleep overwhelmed him.

Chapter Text

  He was lying next to her, his head resting in his hand, and watched her sleeping. It was hot up here. The dimension barrier was like the glass walls of a greenhouse and they'd been stupid enough to close the door last night. Now the sun was high in the sky and seemingly wanted to suffocate them. Sweat was beading on his forehead, the sheets clung to his skin. Still, he didn't bother to open the door or cast a cooling charm. This moment was just too perfect to even move as much as his pinky.

  They hadn't tucked themselves up before they'd fallen asleep again and now she was lying there, naked and desirable, in his bed. Severus's eyes travelled along her body as if he was seeing her for the first time. Merlin, he had missed seeing her so badly … He just couldn't get enough of her.

  Then his gaze lingered on her stomach. It was a subtle bump and if he hadn't known that she used to be pretty thin he'd never have noticed it as a pregnancy bump. But as it was … He gulped. A child. Never had a child been part of his life plan. Never had he been able to imagine that anybody would even want to have a child with him. 

  Severus didn't consider himself to be a qualified person to raise a child. He hated children. Passionately. Albus forcing him to teach hadn't helped either. What if he hated his own child just as much as he hated the dunderheads at Hogwarts? What if he screwed up his own child just as much as his parents screwed up him? They, as well, had been people who never should have had a child. At least his father. With the right man at her side, his mother might have got along somehow. With the right man as his father, he might even have become something like a good person. 

  Would his child one day think the same about him? He wrinkled his nose. 

  Part of him still wished Hermione would take a potion to end the pregnancy. But he knew that she wouldn't survive that. And if she did she wouldn't forgive him. Either way, he would lose her, and that … that he couldn't bear. He could only have her with that child and that was that.

  But … apart from him being inapt as a father … This child would change their relationship. Soon they wouldn't be alone anymore. They would never be alone again. A new life, a new person would barge in between them. He didn't like that thought. They'd just found each other and he was so hungry for her and everything they had that he didn't want to share her with anybody. Not even with a child.

  He sighed. Merlin, how could that have happened? Severus closed his eyes and tried to remember the afternoon Hermione had brewed the contraceptive potion. She had not made a mistake. He was absolutely positive about that. He would have noticed. And she didn't forget to take the potion. He'd been mindful of that as well because a child had not been a part of his bloody life plan!

  Of course, one day they would have had to talk about this topic. Hermione might have generously claimed that children had never been that important to her but he'd seen how awfully she'd suffered from the loss of her first child. She needed children in her life. One day, she would have come to hate him if she'd gone without them just because of him. Perhaps that would have indeed been the point their relationship would have foundered on.

  Well, now this question wouldn't arise anymore. She would be a damn fine mother. And he a damn lousy father. 

  He brushed his thumb and index finger under his glasses and across his eyes. Then he got up and dressed.

  Hermione stirred behind him. “What are you doing?” she asked sleepily.

  “I will find out why you got pregnant in spite of contraception.”

  “Do you have any idea?” she asked and sat up.

  He clicked his tongue, zipping up his fly. “The potion has been brewed correctly and you took it unfailingly. So it is neither a preparation nor an application mistake. You took the potion earlier and only got pregnant when you forgot it, plus you didn't react abnormally. So it also cannot be an intolerance. That only supports one conclusion.” He threw his shirt on and began to button it up. “One or more of the ingredients must have been flawed.”

  She watched him, her head tilted. “Is it really possible that ingredients aren't effective without them noticeably messing up the potion?”

  “In some circumstances. I will find out.” Before he could leave she called his name and he turned back to her.

  “Are we going to make it?” she asked feebly. “The child I mean. Can we do this?”

  He hunched his shoulders. “We have no choice, right?”

  Hermione lowered her eyes and he left the room.

  About half an hour later he found her in the kitchen having breakfast, a current issue of the Daily Prophet spread across the table. “It's been the fluxweed,” he said dully.

  She looked up from the paper and blinked.

  Severus sat down in his spot and rubbed his face, his glasses almost toppling down. He really had to get used to that damn thing. “It had not been harvested at the full moon, it is virtually ineffective.”

  Hermione swallowed. “And that didn't lead to any noticeable difference with the potion?”

  “No. The fluxweed isn't only responsible for your pregnancy, by the way, but also for the accident that almost cost me my eyesight.”

  She pushed her plate away, a half-eaten slice of toast still on it, and sighed gravely. “How could Professor Dumbledore send us ineffective fluxweed?”

  “I don't think Albus tends to our orders. He lets the house-elves handle them. That's why it took so long to get me a new wand after we arrived here. Albus hadn't been at Hogwarts to see the letter.”

  Hermione put her head in her hand. “But the elves also have to fetch the fluxweed in the apothecary.”

  “I don't know where they got it from,” Severus replied impatiently, “but it is ineffective and the reason for a lot of our problems.” And the reason for his temper since he'd failed to test the ingredients before they'd used them. He pinched the bridge of his nose. How could he have been so careless? So stupid? All of this was his fault … 

  “I'm sorry, Severus,” Hermione whispered.

  “It's not your fault. None of it.” He straightened his glasses. “I am responsible for testing the ingredients. I am the Potions Master.”

  She said nothing.

  Eventually, he crossed his arms over his chest and nodded at the Daily Prophet. “How much trivial stuff is in it this time?”

  “A lot, actually. The Chudley Cannons won a game.”

  He arched his eyebrows in surprise. 

  “But only because one of the opposing chasers was hit by a bludger three minutes into the game. He had to be taken to St Mungo's and they had to continue with one chaser.”

  “Did the Cannons hit the bludger at least?”

  “No. It was blown by a gust of wind.”

  Severus clicked his tongue. “Anything else?”

  First, Hermione nodded and took a breath to tell him more. But then she slumped, shook her head and eyed him sadly. “I wish we weren't in this situation.”

  Severus leaned forwards and put his elbows on the tabletop. “But we are. You and I, we'll get a child.”

  “Yes.” She gulped. “Are you afraid, Severus?”

  He nodded. “I'm the last person that should raise a child. Yes, I'm afraid.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, she dropped her gaze.

  Severus reached for her hand, for the one that was on the table, clutching to the handle of her mug as if that could prevent what was about to happen. “You don't need to cry because of my fear, Mia.”

  She huffed and brushed her tears away. “I'm crying because of my fear,” she said in a shaky voice. “I arrived here as … Ron's widow and now …”

  He pulled his hand back frowning. Of course. She would have a hard time explaining to everyone in her life how that could have happened. Not only the pregnancy but especially their relationship. Severus rose to his feet and poured himself a mug of coffee before he leaned against the worktop. How was anyone who had never been trapped with another person for so long supposed to understand what had happened between them? How was anyone not knowing about Adia supposed to understand it? He could hardly understand it himself.

  No, that wasn't quite right. He could understand why he'd fallen for Hermione. Perhaps it would have happened even earlier if she hadn't been in a relationship with Weasley. But to this day he couldn't understand why she'd fallen in love with him. Part of him was still convinced that it would never have happened without Adia's intense commitment to him. Part of him still was convinced that it wasn't really Hermione who loved him.

  When they finally got out of here she would probably realise how misled she'd been. And if there would have only been the two of them it would have been all right. Of course, losing her after he'd got to know how it was to have her in his life would have shattered him. But he would have found a way to cope, he'd experienced worse, and … He sighed. No. No, he had not experienced worse than that. Lily had never been interested in him in this way, they'd never been as close as he and Hermione were now. But he would have found a way to cope. He always did.

  But now … This child changed everything. A child tied a closer bond between two people than marriage. Marriages could be divorced, it was possible to never see each other again. A child, however, was an indestructible bond. Except if he decided to not be a part of his child's life. And that probably would be the best for all of them.

  “Severus?” she cut through his musings.

  He raised his eyes.

  “Wha… what are you thinking about?” She sounded wary, looking at him with furrowed brows and huge eyes. The pulse on her neck was racing.

  He scoffed and ran his hand across his mouth. “Nothing,” he said hollowly.

  Hermione rose and stepped in front of him. She took the mug from his hand and put it away. “Don't lie to me,” she said and caught his eyes. “I know this expression.”

  “How?”

  “You looked exactly the same when we finished the potions that enabled Harry to vanquish Voldemort. And you looked the same when you learned that Professor Dumbledore locked us up here. You always look like this when you have to accept something you don't like.” She gulped. “Is it the child? Is it the child that you have to accept although you don't like it?”

  He raised his hand and ran his finger along her eyebrow, trying to brush the fear away. “No, it is not the child,” he said in a dark voice. “I try to accept that I will lose you as soon as we get out of here.”

  Hermione shook her head in bewilderment. “Why do you think that?”

  “Look at you, Hermione. And then look at me. You are already afraid of how the others will react when they find out about us and the child. You and me … that's obscene.” She gasped but he continued, “I'm used to being despised and living on the fringe of society. But you … you need your friends, your family. I can't replace any of that. One day you will realise that and then you will leave. And I will let you go.”

  She pinned her lips together and shook her head once again. “That will not happen.” Her voice trembled. “I'd rather live alone with you in this house for all time than spend even a single day without you.”

  Severus smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. She could easily say something like that now. It had been such a long time since she last saw her friends and her family. But that would change. When she remembered how important these people were to her and when she saw that they wouldn't accept him at her side then it would change.

  Hermione swallowed. “You don't believe me, do you?”

  He cast down his eyes.

  “Oh, Severus …” she sighed and raised herself on tiptoes to kiss him. Her lips were warm and soft and her tongue gently brushed his lower lip.

  Severus's stomach clenched thinking that he would lose her. He wanted, wanted, wanted to believe her! But how could he? Everything was against them.

  Eventually, she sank back to her feet. “I will prove it.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers and sighed quietly.

  The next morning, Severus witnessed the afflictions of Hermione's pregnancy for the first time. He held her hair from her face while she noisily threw up in the toilet. “How were you able to keep that from me all the time?” he sneered, his face twisted in disgust. And why don't you do it anymore?, he added silently but assumed that he better kept that one to himself.

  “Isolation charm,” Hermione mumbled in an exhausted voice and put her forehead in one hand while she fumbled for the flush with her other. She was pitiably pale. “That you've been blind made it easier.”

  “Obviously.” He let go of her hair and held out his hands to help her get back to her feet. “Is there no potion for it?” He really wasn't up-to-date regarding healing potions. He only knew the usual potion for nausea but it was contraindicated for pregnant persons. Luckily, Poppy never had to order potions for pregnant students from him.

  “It's not that bad,” Hermione said and turned to the sink to rinse her mouth.

  “That's a matter of perspective.”

  “The potion has side effects,” she explained after she'd dried her face with a towel. “You lose your sense of taste. Meaning I could eat but I don't want to because everything tastes like cardboard.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Which genius did come up with that potion?”

  She smiled and leaned against him. “Not you, obviously.”

  “Show me the recipe, I'll see what I can do about it,” he grumbled and stroked her back.

  Hermione sighed softly. “That should have long passed anyway. I've awaited the end of the first trimester so eagerly and yet I still get sick every now and then. That's not fair.”

  “Life never is.”

  She looked up at him. “No, it isn't.”

  He drew his fingers through her moist hair. “What do you think, are you well enough to work on the Felix Felicis?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I'm all right.”

  Severus twisted his face. No, she wasn't all right. Neither physically, nor emotionally. But while she was working on the Felicis he could take a look at the potion for her nausea and maybe he could at least help her physically.

  A few days later, Severus found a delivery in the box Albus had placed for him in the pantry. The box Hermione wasn't able to open. That she didn't even know about. At least she'd never mentioned it to him and as sharp-witted and curious as she was she would certainly have done so if she knew that it existed.

  He'd placed this order a few months ago. For her birthday. Last year, he'd passed over that day. On the one hand, because he hadn't known when her birthday was – on the other hand, because he'd been unsure whether or not she'd appreciate congratulations coming from him. But he'd seen the letters in the pantry on the morning of September the nineteenth and he'd kept it in mind. 

  It was a tradition amongst Masters to gift their apprentices a set of their own tools. For the more liberal arts like Charms and Transfigurations, it mostly was a high-class quill and a copy of the official master's compendium. But for Potions, it was utensils needed for brewing. Knives, spatulas, tweezers, droppers, mortar and a pounder. A few months ago, he'd asked Albus to place a respective order with Master Ardolofo in Italy. 

  Severus took the package from the box and removed the brown packing paper. A case, clad in black leather, turned up, on its front the armorial of the Potions Guild and Hermione's name, embossed in gold. He opened it and scrutinised the tools that were neatly lined up on a removable shelf. Most of them were made of a top-quality silver alloy, sturdy and resilient. Only a few separate tools were made without silver; some potions couldn't be brewed with silver tools.

  Severus lifted the shelf from the box and held it into the light. The letters HG were embossed on the handle of each tool. Even though Hermione's surname wasn't Granger anymore, she would work under that name as a Mistress. Every Master worked under their birth name because it hadn't been the spouse that accomplished the apprenticeship. The credit was due to Hermione and Hermione alone. 

  He put the tools aside and looked into the case. A mortar and a pounder made of bright granite were resting in dedicated notches.

  Severus smiled when he put everything back together and placed it in the box again. If Hermione didn't know that this box even existed it was the perfect place to store her present until her birthday.

  Severus put the vial on the table in front of Hermione with a soft plop. She was pale and clung to her cup of tea. “What is this?” she asked dully and looked up at him. No, it wasn't a good morning for her stomach.

  “For your nausea. Without the annoying side effects,” Severus explained and even he was surprised by how gentle his voice sounded. He sympathised more with her than he'd thought and relished seeing her face light up. 

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Really. One ounce per day, you best take it in the evening.” He truly didn't like that his child sometimes chased her out of his arms before he even was properly awake. If he made the effort to go to bed as late as possible to be able to sleep later in the morning he at least wanted to get something out of it. 

  She pulled the stopper from the vial's neck and downed approximately the ounce Severus had instructed her to take. Instantly the paleness vanished from her face and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Severus!”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That was an absolutely selfish act. I don't like being woken by these sounds.”

  “Of course,” she said and smiled.

  “There are some more vials down in the lab. It should be sufficient for this pregnancy.” Perhaps it would even be sufficient for three more pregnancies. Not Hermione's! This child would be the only one! But he'd wanted to play it safe. “Since you are better now,” he then said and clasped his hands behind his back.

  “Yeah?” she asked warily.

  “I prepared a written test and await you in the parlour in five minutes.”

  She groaned. “Is that really necessary?”

  “Absolutely.” She was his apprentice and he would teach her – even if she hatched his child along the way.

  A few days before her birthday, Severus found her in the parlour. She'd spread her papers across the whole dining table and was working on some calculations concerning a new potion.

  He sat down opposite her and looked at her until she paused her work and raised her eyes. “Do you have a plan?” he asked.

  “A plan for what?”

  “A plan for the case that this” – he pointed at her belly that had got a little bigger by now – “wants to be born before Albus gets us out of here.”

  Hermione arched her eyebrows and put her chin in her hand. “This,” she replied in the same tone of voice and nodded at her middle, “will not want to be born before February, Severus. I'll start worrying about it if we're still here next year.”

  He pursed his lips.

  She grinned. “Are you afraid you'd have to perform as a midwife?”

  “Aren't you?” he countered pointedly.

  Hermione shook her head. “No. I trust you. And you've accomplished harder tasks. If it should prove necessary you will definitely be able to catch the baby when it slips out of me.”

  “I would prefer not to,” he growled in a disgruntled tone. 

  She sighed. “If we are really locked up in here for such a long time to come I will inform Professor Dumbledore so he can come up with a plan. He locked us up here and he allowed for us to get ineffective fluxweed. I think this is his problem, not ours.”

  Severus smirked. “I like your way of thinking.”

  “I thought as much. May I continue with my work then?”

  He stood and left but not without stealing a kiss from her lips – a promise for the evening to come.

  They didn't even find the letter at first. In between all the mail she'd received for her birthday it'd just got lost.

  And Severus had done his bit as well, of course. He'd given her his present and distracted her from the letters. For hours, they'd been lying on the dining table, disregarded, while Hermione had unwrapped the tools, picked up every single one of them, and carefully examined them with a proud gleam in her eyes. And while he'd seduced her. On the settee. And then again in his bed. And in the shower.

  The latter had proven to be nowhere near as stimulating as he'd always imagined; he'd had a hard time keeping each of them from drowning or slipping. But the hot water between their bodies, on his cock and in their mouths had made up for it. He'd promised himself to repeat this one day. But probably not until Hermione had given birth. Provided they'd still have time for things like that then. Maybe they would have to wait until this would finally leave for Hogwarts. A bitter thought.

  However, Hermione had ignored her birthday mail for a criminally long time. The sun was already setting when she – a bit sore – went downstairs to fetch the letters.

  And when Severus heard her cry his name he flinched and clumsily struggled out of the tangled sheets. “What?” he shouted and got going when he'd finally freed his foot.

  Hermione met him halfway up the stairs. “Professor Dumbledore gets us out!”

  “What?” It was a different What than before. “When?”

  She put her nose back down to the letter. “Tomorrow,” she then said. “Tomorrow morning.” She raised her eyes and stared at him, her mouth ajar.

  Severus blinked. Tomorrow. He'd expected that he would … feel some kind of relief when they finally got out of here. Glad. At least some kind of … good. But in fact, he felt nothing.

  But he also didn't expect it to be one innocuous letter between several more that would tell them this news. 

  “Well,” he eventually said and gulped, “that's … good.”

  Hermione nodded. “It is.” And after a brief pause, she added, “Right?”

  He took a deep breath. “I don't have to perform as a midwife, that is definitely good.”

  She smiled a thin-lipped smile, then she sighed and leaned against him, right there, in the middle of the stairs.

Chapter Text

  “What if they hate me, Severus?”

  He blinked in the darkness of night. Apparently, she was as sleepless as he was. Her warm breath brushed his naked chest. “They won't.”

  “How do you know? I'm an awful widow. I've forgotten Ron so quickly. They will hate me.” Her voice trembled.

  He ran his hand across his forehead. “You've not forgotten Weasley. You're carrying his ring on your necklace.”

  “And your child in me,” she mumbled softly.

  “Yeah,” he growled. And it had not been their fault. They did try to prevent exactly this! “They will love the child.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because it is your child and because they love you.” They would hate him, though. At best. But Hermione and the child … they would love them. They would celebrate her return and they would celebrate the end of the war and Severus would stay out of it and go back to his house, preparing to be hated at best and finished off by somebody at worst. Maybe by Alastor.

  “How am I even supposed to explain all of this?”

  Severus arched his eyebrows. It was just a reflex since she couldn't see it anyway, the night being as dark as it was (as if there was no light left in this world or the next). But did she really have to explain her pregnancy? Wasn't all of this self-explanatory? He wouldn't explain anything to anybody, it was none of their business. But, admittedly, that wasn't Hermione's way of handling things. “Just wait until they are ready to listen. You were able to explain it to me when I was ready to listen, you will be able to explain it to them as well.”

  She sighed gravely. “I'm scared, Severus.” And after a brief pause, she added, “I wouldn't have thought that I'd be so scared of leaving.”

  He pulled her closer. No, he hadn't seen that coming either.

  After a sleepless night, they got up around five o'clock and started to pack up their things. He'd transfigured the small box in which Albus had sent his stuff more than a year ago into a valise and piled his magically shrunk clothes, books and notes in it. At last, he put all of the small items into the nooks and crannies and pulled the zip closed. 

  “What do we do with the Felix Felicis?” Hermione asked when she was done packing up her things.

  He turned around to face her and his eyebrows twitched when he noticed the loosely falling shirt that she wore. It completely hid her bump. “I will take it to my house. We can continue there,” he said when he'd torn his eyes away from her middle. “You'll have to visit me regularly anyway if you want to continue your apprenticeship.”

  Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times in an attempt to say something but she never did. Then she looked down at her fingers.

  “What?” Severus inquired.

  She bit the inside of her lip. “Where will we live, Severus?”

  He arched his eyebrows. “I will live in my parents' house, just as before.”

  Hermione gulped. “And I?” she whispered.

  Severus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. After they'd been living together for more than fourteen months he could no longer imagine living on his own. But that was not the point, right? She should get the chance to go on with her old life, at least for a while; she had to see if she liked it better than what he could offer her. “Where you've been living before,” was, therefore, his dull answer.

  She nodded and averted her eyes but he'd seen her chin tremble before she got a grip of herself. “We'll find a way,” she mumbled.

  Severus didn't reply.

  It was about ten o'clock when a smacking sound echoed through the house. As if someone had pulled a sucker cup from a smooth surface. Severus looked around until he fastened his eyes on Hermione. “That must have been the barrier,” she said.

  And then there was a rap at the door.

  Severus crossed the hallway and opened it. Albus looked thinner than he remembered him. And more pallid. The last four months seemed to have been hard on him. But that did no harm to his presence. Even now nobody would doubt that this man was powerful.

  “Severus,” he said and inclined his head. “The glasses suit you.”

  “Albus.” Severus almost rolled his eyes at him. Instead, he stepped aside, closed the door, and followed Albus into the parlour.

  “Mrs Weasley!”

  Severus could only see Hermione's face, Albus had turned his back to him. But her smile was a little bit forced when she shook his hand. “Hello, Professor Dumbledore.”

  Albus looked at him. “Let's sit down for a minute.” He chose the spot on the front side of the dining table, so Severus and Hermione were compelled to choose the long sides opposite each other. He didn't dare sit down next to her. “As you certainly heard, I have dismantled the barrier and you are free to leave this house,” Albus began, his fingers laced in his lap. “But I do think it reasonable to bring all of us up to date first.”

  Hermione's mouth was ajar, she hung on Albus's every word. Now she nodded and cast Severus a glance. She was pale.

  Then Albus's gaze struck him and Severus stiffened. “You begin, there's more to tell from the outside,” he said.

  Albus nodded slowly. “Perhaps the most obvious first: We succeeded in arresting Lucius Malfoy and all of his … minions who did not die during the battle. We consider the Wizarding world to be safe.”

  “We?” Severus echoed and cocked an eyebrow.

  “The Ministry of Magic and I.”

  “The Order worked with the Ministry?” His incredulous tone of voice caused Hermione to grin, she hid it behind her hand.

  “With a part of the Ministry.”

  Now he rolled his eyes in earnest. “Do I have to worm every detail out of you, Albus?”

  The bright blue eyes sparkled. “We worked together with the Aurors. After the latest infiltration of the Ministry, they were willing to join the resistance – thanks to Miss Weasley and Miss Tonks.”

  “Are they all right?” Hermione interrupted him timidly.

  Albus looked at her and smiled but it was a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Yes, they are fine.”

  “So it only took a few Aurors?” Severus returned to the topic on hand.

  Albus took a deep breath. “No. Remus helped as well. He succeeded in depriving Fenrir Greyback of the leadership of the werewolves. They now consider him their … alpha.”

  Hermione huffed, apparently deeply impressed.

  Severus pursed his lips impatiently. Albus avoided a topic. And he did it for good reasons, of that he was sure. So he addressed it directly. “Who died, Albus?”

  Hermione looked at him, the colour draining from her face. He wished he could protect her from what was about to come. Her hand twitched as if she wanted to reach for his but she suppressed the urge.

  Albus lowered his eyes. “Of course, not all of us survived the last battles,” he said softly, his brows furrowed. “Some of the Aurors died, I don't think you knew them.”

  But the others did, Severus added quietly. The other members of the Order knew the dead Aurors.

  “Who, Professor Dumbledore?” Hermione asked, almost choking on her words when he remained silent.

  Albus raised his gaze. “Molly.”

  Hermione covered her mouth in shock. “No!” she gasped and when she began to cry Severus wanted to go to her and take her in his arms so urgently that his legs hummed. Since he'd last had to stand back when the Dark Lord had murdered innocent victims he hadn't felt like this. He closed his eyes.

  “I am very sorry,” Albus said.

  “I-I have to …” Her voice faded and she fled into the garden.

  Severus watched her leave and because he was well aware of Albus's gaze he tried to keep his expression as blank as possible. “So, Lucius is in Azkaban?” he asked.

  “Indeed.”

  He nodded slowly.

  “Bellatrix Lestrange is dead, just like Augustus Rookwood and a few of the freshly recruited Death Eaters that were not marked.”

  Again, he nodded. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Hermione, standing in the garden, embracing herself while she tried to regain her composure. He didn't know that she'd been so close with her mother-in-law and this thought seeped into his stomach like poison. He hardly knew anything about her relationships with other people. He knew that she was friends with Ginevra and Nymphadora because he'd seen it in her memories. But apart from that … He swallowed.

  “How have you been doing in here?” Albus's voice cut through his thoughts.

  Severus blinked. “Good,” he drawled. “Miss Whitmore is – as you already know – long in the past. I started training Hermione to be a Potions Mistress – as you probably assumed. And I would argue that we have both come to terms with what happened before we got here.”

  Albus watched him intently. “And apart from that?”

  Severus clenched his teeth. He suspected it. Albus suspected that more had happened between him and Hermione. So he straightened in his chair, bracing himself for the effect his following words would have. “Hermione's and my relationship got a bit more … intimate than initially planned,” he said and wrinkled his nose.

  Albus exhaled sharply. “She is 23, Severus.”

  “I do know,” he replied.

  “I trusted you.”

  “And I did not force anything on her!” Severus growled.

  Albus looked at Hermione and Severus felt the colour draining from his face as well when Hermione put a hand on her hip and turned around. She'd chosen a loose shirt so her bump wouldn't be instantly visible. But now the news of Molly's death had upset her so much that she'd stopped thinking about it. Her bump was clearly showing under the fabric.

  Albus glared at him and ever since Severus had asked him to keep Lily safe – only Lily – he hadn't seen so much disgust in his eyes. “You impregnated her?” His voice was trembling with fury and Severus almost expected the air to crackle with magic. But it didn't.

  He closed his eyes and drew his hand over his mouth. He said nothing. Because what was he supposed to say? It was as it was and he preferred getting Albus's rage over with as long as Hermione was in the garden than her witnessing it.

  Albus exhaled slowly. “How could you let that happen?”

  Severus scowled at him. “It was not my intention! You sent us ineffective fluxweed! That stuff almost cost me my eyesight!” he hissed.

  “Since when do you fail to test your ingredients before you use them?”

  He scoffed. “I trusted you, Albus! I trusted the ingredients you sent us!” Severus scrunched up his nose. “I will never let that happen again.”

  Albus rose to his feet and paced through the room. Since Hermione had closed the terrace door behind her she wasn't able to hear a word they were speaking. “What do you plan to do now?”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Severus sneered. “She expects my child! Of course, I will support her!”

  “Will you marry her?”

  Severus was taken aback. “I don't know how that concerns you,” he eventually said coolly.

  “It does not concern me. I only want to know whether you think this relationship will last in the long run.”

  Severus twisted his mouth as if he suddenly had a vile taste on his tongue. And actually, he could taste bile in the back of his throat. “No, I don't think so,” he said bitterly.

  “Very well,” Albus replied. “She will have a hard enough time explaining to her friends how this pregnancy could have occurred.”

  “Yes,” Severus growled. Of course, she shouldn't have to explain how she came to believe that she loved him. It was easier for all of them if she could blame it on the captivity. Stockholm syndrome or however it was called.

  Severus watched Hermione through the terrace door. She just brushed the tears from her face and he could hardly breathe. Albus's presence alone was enough to let the dainty bubble in which they'd lived throughout the last four months burst. Right now he felt as if he'd just dreamt all of it. As if she'd never lain in his arms, as if she'd never told him that she loved him. As if Mia had never existed.

  He willed himself to avert his gaze. “Is there anything more to discuss or are we allowed to leave?”

  Albus eyed him in an aloof manner. “As long as Mrs Weasley” – he emphasised her name – “doesn't have any more questions, we are ready to leave.”

  Severus wanted to go get her but Albus raised his hand and Severus sank back down onto his chair. Like a schoolboy. He hated it when Albus got involved. When he reminded him with a glance alone what kind of person he was and that a woman like Hermione wasn't the right one to be at his side. That she wouldn't find anything of value there.

  He'd lowered his eyes when Hermione came back into the parlour. “I'm sorry,” she said softly, her voice still muffled from tears.

  Albus dismissed her excuse. “Do you have any more questions or do you want to discuss anything else?”

  Hermione's gaze jumped back and forth between him and Albus, he could see it from the corner of his eye.

  “Severus already briefed me about everything important that has happened in here.”

  “Did he?” she asked warily.

  At that, Severus looked up and met her eyes. “Yes,” he muttered, “it's all been said. If you don't have any more questions we can leave.”

  She looked at him for a long time, rubbing her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “No, I don't have any more questions,” she mumbled eventually. Then she turned to Albus. “Why don't you go ahead, sir? We'll be right there.”

  Severus's eyebrows twitched. Albus cast him a sharp glance but he remained silent. No, he did not think that Hermione would stay at his side in the long run but he wouldn't forbid her to talk to him in private.

  Albus noticed it and he was not pleased. “Hurry up, a welcoming feast awaits you at Grimmauld Place. Miss Weasley and Miss Tonks cannot wait to see you.” He addressed only Hermione.

  “We'll be there soon,” she assured him.

  Severus didn't look up when Albus passed him and left the house. When she heard the soft pop of his Apparition, Hermione approached him. “What did he say when I was outside?”

  Severus sighed. “Nothing that is not true.”

  She reached out and wanted to draw her fingers through his hair but Severus caught her hand mid-movement. And to not push her farther away than strictly necessary he laced his fingers with hers. 

  “You should go to Grimmauld Place and let yourself be celebrated.”

  “And what do you do?” she asked.

  He looked her in the eyes. “I will go home and see if it still exists.”

  She brushed her thumb over the back of his hand. “I don't like the thought that you will be there alone.”

  Severus huffed. “I've been alone for years.”

  “That's why I don't like it.”

  “I will not accompany you to Grimmauld Place,” he insisted. He didn't want to see any of those people. They'd willingly thought him to be a loyal Death Eater, they would equally willingly think that he'd manipulated Hermione into this relationship. 

  She gulped. “May I come to you, Severus?”

  He nodded. “Tomorrow.”

  Hermione pursed her lips but she acquiesced. And then she bent down to him to steal a last kiss from his lips. Severus felt himself go soft. He wanted to put his hand on her neck and never let her go. He wanted to take her to Spinner's End and build a new bubble they could live in forever. 

  But life did not happen in a bubble. They had to face reality – whatever it would be in the end. “Go,” he said and withdrew his hand.

  “Okay.” She turned away and her hand came to rest on her belly – a sight that hit Severus like a bludger in his face. “See you tomorrow, Severus.”

  He nodded and watched her go. In the hallway, she grasped her bag and left the house. Then she Disapparated as well.

  Severus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As if he had been under water for the last half hour - or the last fourteen months. But even now there was no oxygen. Even now his limbs were aching and felt heavy. He supported his elbows on his knees, took off the damn glasses and rubbed his face.

  What were they even thinking? A relationship? Love? Between the both of them?

  His eyes were burning, he brushed his thumb and index finger over them. When he blinked and – putting the glasses back on – looked around the parlour it felt like something was odd. As if he was seeing a mirror image of it; totally foreign and still, oddly familiar. Did he really spend the last fourteen months of his life here? Had this really been his home?

  Now it only was a room in a house.

  Severus went down to the lab, placed a stabilising charm on the cauldron with the Felix Felicis, shrunk it and took it on the iron handle. In front of the shelves with the prepared potions, he stopped. There were the vials of potion for morning sickness. The ineffective contraceptive potion that he still had not disposed of. A jar with Hermione's ointment and the second vial with the reversing potion for the Vicissitudo Virtus. Their whole story in a few vials.

  Severus shrunk these as well and pocketed them in his cloak. He didn't even know what he wanted with them. Especially with the ineffective contraceptive potion. But he couldn't just leave them here.

  Without another glance back at the lab he ascended the stairs, took his valise with his empty hand and left the house. He closed the door behind him and locked it magically. Then he raised his eyes and for a moment, he was completely overwhelmed by the sight of green fields. As far as the eye could see. The horizon was a distinguished line. Nothing was blurred.

  He was really free.

  Severus closed his burning eyes and focussed on the threshold of his house in Spinner's End. He'd Apparated there hundreds of times, so often, in fact, that he felt as if his body was drawn there on its own. Even now.

  After the Apparition had jammed him through a bottleneck, Severus blinked and looked around. Grey. Dirty. Abandoned. Yes, clearly Spinner's End. He set the bag aside and opened the door. It squeaked when it swung open. The air smelled dusty and stale. When he'd put down his stuff he opened the windows and went down to another lab.

  Hermione had tidied up when she'd finished his experiments more than fourteen months ago. In another life. He reversed the shrinking spell on the cauldron with the Felicis and hung it above a fire. It had to simmer until tomorrow. For a time like this, the Felicis was the perfect potion to go through with Hermione. The periods of rest were so long that she could easily catch up with her friends without it perishing.

  Severus lined up the vials on a shelf on the wall, then he went back upstairs and unpacked. When he retrieved his clothes the smell of the safe house tickled his nostrils. The house and … Hermione. They'd spent so much time in his room that all of his clothes smelled like her. Severus closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. There was a tingling in his stomach and something swelled in his chest.

  The house was in terrible condition. His housekeeper, of course, had stopped coming here when she hadn't received any more payment (and probably because Hermione had stunned her to get some hair). He'd never had many cash reserves. His parents had been poor and Hogwarts wasn't paying enough to save a lot of money. So he spent the rest of his morning and most of the afternoon cleaning, cleaning up and unpacking his bag. He put the charmed chessboard on the table in the living room and the books on the shelves. He concluded that when it was clean and everything had found its place again the old feeling of being at home would return.

  But it didn't.

  In the early evening, Severus was standing in the middle of the living room and looked around displeased. Everything was as he remembered it. Old and worn out but clean. These were the rooms in which he'd spent his childhood and at least a part of his time as an adult. He'd been born here. But he wasn't at home here anymore.

  Not yet again, he corrected himself. He only had to get used to it. Just like Hermione only had to get used to her old life. One day it would fit again.

  His eyes found the bookshelf at which Draco had stood in Hermione's memory. The one next to the fireplace. He went over and took the book that Draco had held. A piece of parchment was stuck between the pages. Severus wasn't very fond of poems but there had been a woman years ago … They'd met a few times during the summer hols. They'd had fun. Non-committal fun, he'd left no doubt about that. Before she'd left she'd gifted him this book. “You remind me of this poem,” she'd said, kissed his cheek, and then she'd disappeared. He'd never seen her again and not even thought about her until he'd seen Draco pulling out this book from the shelf.

  The Panther. The burn on his calve tingled.

  He was just putting the book and his memories back on the shelf when there was a rap at his door.

  Severus sighed and briefly closed his eyes. “It isn't tomorrow yet, Hermione,” he growled softly before he turned around and went to the door. But when he opened it it wasn't Hermione standing in front of him.

Chapter Text

  “What are you doing here?” Severus snarled after he'd snapped out of his shock.

  Remus Lupin raised a bottle of firewhisky. “Thought you could do with one of this.”

  Severus narrowed his eyes and searched Lupin's face for a trace of insincerity. It would have been a clever move to send him to hang, draw and quarter Severus. But he found nothing of that. He only found the remains of some very hard years edged into the deep wrinkles adorning his face. Wrinkles that Severus possessed as well.

  Eventually, he stepped aside and Lupin went past him into the living room. “Pity you didn't come to Grimmauld Place.”

  “Is it?” he drawled and showed Lupin into the kitchen. The chairs there were more comfortable than the old threadbare sofa in the living room. And apart from that, he didn't want to sit next to that man. Severus fetched two glasses from the cupboard while Lupin pulled out one of the chairs from under the table, causing a scratching sound on the old floor. He sat down and Severus placed the glasses on the table before he did the same.

  “It is indeed,” Lupin finally replied and poured them both some whisky. “I'm not going to lie to you and claim that you have been missed as much as Hermione …”

  “That's big of you,” Severus cut in.

  “… but most of us wronged you and they'd have been glad to get a chance to set things right.”

  Severus eyed him sullenly, then he reached for his glass and emptied it in one gulp. The burning of the alcohol in his throat was good, the warmth in his stomach was as well. He just had to be careful that he didn't overdo it. He hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. “I don't care what they would have been glad about,” he said dully. “If Hermione had not succeeded in rescuing me nobody would have been sad about it.” And considering that he'd impregnated her during their protective custody most of them would in hindsight probably wish she would have failed. 

  Lupin took a sip from his whisky as well, albeit more cautiously than Severus. He was pale, even considering the years that he'd been through. Stressed and burdened.

  “Nearing full moon?” Severus asked before Lupin could reply to what he'd said.

  “Yes, tomorrow.”

  Severus arched an eyebrow.

  “No, I don't use the Wolfsbane right now,” he answered the unspoken question. “To lead a pack I have to admit the wolf. Besides … the … friend that provided me with it last was indispensable.”

  Severus snorted. “We're not friends, Lupin. Never were, never will be.” He tipped himself up. Probably he didn't need to be too careful after all.

  Lupin lowered his eyes, tilting the glass in his hand from one side to the other so the honey-coloured liquid reeled. “Yeah, guess you're right,” he mumbled. “Then I offer you my help as an ally.”

  “Help with what?”

  “Hermione and you.”

  Severus clenched his teeth so much that his jaw hurt. Of course, he knew. Hermione had probably told anyone that had listened for long enough. Well, maybe it was better that way. The more people she told the more she would see what it meant to be with him. And that she definitely didn't want that. He downed a bit more whisky, needing a moment to sort through his thoughts. “I don't need help,” he then growled.

  Lupin sighed. “Call it what you want, Severus. Help, an open ear, assistance, support – I don't care. But I know how you feel and when I was where you are now I dearly wished to have anything like that.”

  Severus huffed. No, he even laughed softly, although mirthlessly. “If I remember correctly everybody urged you to finally give in to Nymphadora's wooing.” He put a lot of sarcastic emphasis on the last word. “Nobody ever questioned your character or your intentions. Everybody wished for you to be happy. So how could you know how I feel?” He rubbed his eyes.

  Lupin leaned forward, his forearms on the table. “It's not about what the others wish for you or think about your relationship. Although I'm pretty sure that your imagination is much worse than reality.”

  Severus scowled at him.

  “Anyway … Both Dora and Hermione are strong women. They know what they want and the other's opinions won't stop them. I'm convinced that the others love Hermione enough to accept you at her side. At least I do and Dora will too. And when they learn what I smelled and heard today, the doubts will settle down, at the latest.”

  Severus jerked his head around. “What did you smell?” he hissed.

  Lupin smiled, a bit mischievous. “A lot, Severus. You won't believe me when I tell you what you can learn about a person just smelling their scent.” Now he emptied his glass as well and indicated to Severus that he wanted to be tipped up, too. “I smelled that Albus is angry. He definitely doesn't wish for you two to be happy.”

  “Of course, he doesn't,” Severus muttered.

  “I smelled that Hermione was on edge. All the people, I guess. I smelled you on her and she probably did as well since she sometimes hunched her shoulder and brushed her face against it and then she calmed down a bit. But what I heard was even more interesting. I heard how fast her heart was beating when she was talking about you. Her heart and … the heart of your child.” He looked at him and raised his eyebrows.

  Severus scrunched his nose and averted his gaze. Damn werewolf.

  “That I noticed all of this is, by the way, the reason why I am here and not Alastor.”

  Severus groaned and closed his eyes. Damn magical eye!

  “Costs me a bottle of firewhisky that he lets me talk to you.”

  “Do you expect me to thank you?”

  Lupin huffed. “No. You never wanted me to thank you for the wolfsbane, I don't want any gratitude for this. I just want to tell you what cost me months to understand: Hermione will not give you up, Severus. She's just like Dora. I haven't been a part of Dora's life for more than three years and still, she didn't give me up. Hermione wants you even though nobody can understand it. She knows that nobody has to understand it. They just have to accept it. And everybody who is unable to accept it is not the sort of person Hermione – or Dora, for that matter – wants in her life. It's not your decision whether or not she wants to love you. So stop pushing her away.”

  The glass scraped across the tabletop when Severus thrust it back and forth between his hands. “She doesn't know what it means to be with me,” he said silently. “Here. Not in that house, cut off from the world.”

  “Yes, she knows. Just like Dora knew. And just like Dora, she doesn't care.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I've seen her, smelled her, heard her, Severus. All day long. She could have only been more straightforward if she'd climbed onto the table and exclaimed her love for you in front of everybody.”

  “Ah, so she didn't do that?” Severus asked feebly.

  “No.”

  He brushed his hand across his mouth. The alcohol was going to his head, he felt dizzy and tired. “When Hermione knocks at my door I will be the last to send her away anyway,” he mumbled.

  “I know.”

  Again, he scowled at him.

  “Everything here smells like Hermione although she hasn't even been here yet. You two are obviously close.”

  “Could you … just stop sticking your nose into our affairs?”

  Lupin smiled. “Even without her scent, I can see how much she means to you. I've seen you like this before …”

  Severus pinned his lips together. “And we both know how it ended.”

  “True.” Lupin lowered his eyes and frowned. “Then get it right this time.” He emptied his glass and rose. “I think I better go back lest Alastor sends the cavalry. Are you sure you don't want to come?”

  “Absolutely.” Now that the kitchen door was swaying a bit before his eyes even more than before. He followed Lupin through his living room to the front door. But before he opened it he paused, rubbed his teeth against each other and eventually said, “What does it sound like, the heartbeat of …” Then he lost his nerve and his voice.

  A wide grin spread across Lupin's face; he suddenly seemed about ten years younger. “Amazing.”

  It was around midnight when a knock at the door startled Severus out of his sleep. He'd gone to bed early, shortly after Lupin had left. The alcohol had got to him more than usual. He really should have eaten something.

  Another knock.

  Severus blinked and needed a second to remember where he even was. That everything was blurred wasn't helping. Then the memories slowly returned. Right. Spinner's End. He stood up, took the glasses from his nightstand - and yet he was utterly confused about his bed standing on the rear wall. That just wasn't right.

  He descended the stairs barefoot and until he'd reached the door his guest had knocked for the third time. He growled softly and tore the door open but he choked on the harsh question of who the hell was bothering him at this time.

  “Now it is tomorrow. May I please come in?” Hermione was wearing a cloak to cover her pyjamas and the laces of her shoes that she was wearing without socks were undone. At least the left ones. The right ones were missing. Severus cocked an eyebrow when he noticed it and she followed his gaze. “Oh,” she mumbled. “I guess they're lying on the threshold of Grimmauld Place.”

  He chuckled. “Luckily it wasn't another part of you that stayed behind.”

  She sighed a breath of relief. “Yes. May I please come in now?”

  Severus stepped aside but when Hermione wanted to walk past him he grasped her hand and pulled her into his arms. He pushed the door closed and held Hermione so tightly that she gasped. His nose dove into her hair, inhaling her scent, her warmth. 

  “Missed you too,” she whispered and slung her arms around his back. Then she withdrew and observed him frowning. “Have you been drinking?”

  Severus nodded. “Let's just go to bed.”

  Before she could object or go on with this discussion that he really wasn't sober enough for, he pulled her upstairs. Hermione slipped out of her shoes, threw the cloak over the foot of the bed, and crawled under the blanket, meeting him. Her face at his neck, her breath on his skin, her cold fingers at the hem of his T-shirt, then underneath it, finally on his back.

  “I don't care what anybody thinks about me loving you. I don't want to be a single day without you ever again.” So softly that Severus could hardly understand it. And just when she was saying it, she was falling asleep, the last words almost getting lost.

  Severus smiled and caressed her back. Not a single day.

  “How was it at Grimmauld Place?” Severus asked the next morning when they were still in bed. Hermione's head was lying on his chest and she sighed faintly when his voice resonated underneath her ear.

  “Loud. Full. There were so many people …” Her finger sluggishly circled over his stomach. “How's it been here?”

  Severus frowned and put an arm underneath his head so he could look down at the wild brown locks. “Quiet. Lonely,” he said.

  Hermione turned around so she could look at him. “The house changed both of us.”

  He brushed the hair from her face. “It did.” Him probably more than her. Before their time in that house, he wouldn't have thought it possible that he would one day get so close to another person ever again. Literally savouring being touched and caressed when she was doing it. And being so afraid of losing that. “How are you today?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You've been quite upset learning about Molly's death yesterday.” He stroked his fingers along her arm and over her swollen belly. When he realised what he was doing he once again felt that tingling in his stomach. 

  Hermione cast her eyes down. “Yes, I was. I just … never thought that something like that could happen. Molly has always been there. Even the house at Grimmauld Place is empty without her.” She gulped. 

  “She was a force to be reckoned with.”

  She smiled. “Yeah. I'm worried about Ginny. Yesterday, I had a feeling that she tries to take over Molly's part in the family. Most of the time she's to be found in the kitchen and she's shockingly good at copying Molly's tone of voice.”

  Severus knitted his brows. “When did Molly die?”

  “Five months ago. Just before …” She stopped.

  Severus caught her eyes and arched an eyebrow.

  Hermione sighed. “Just before Ron's first day of death.”

  He pointed his gaze at the ceiling. “I think all of them are still trying to find a way to cope with their losses. Unless Ginevra's behaviour is still the same a year down the road I don't think there is a reason for worry.”

  “I hope until then she'll find a new purpose. Maybe … as a godmother?”

  Severus clicked his tongue. “Very sneaky,” he noted.

  She bit her lip. “To slip you that idea like this or to give Ginny a new purpose with the baby?”

  “Both. It is both very Slytherin of you.”

  A soft blush rose to her cheeks. “I'd hoped you would appreciate my efforts.”

  He grunted softly.

  “So, what do you think about it?”

  Severus took a deep breath contemplating. “I don't see why not. It's not as if I could suggest someone else.” Except for Filius but he might be a tad too old to be a godfather considering that he would be responsible for the child if something were to happen to the two of them. And Severus would have to deal with Ginevra and Nympahdora anyway. They were Hermione's friends. Just then it hit him: If he had to deal with Nymphadora, he had to deal with Lupin as well. Ugh. He rolled his eyes.

  “Fine,” Hermione interrupted his thoughts. She was visibly pleased. “Oh, by the way, I've only told Ginny and Nymphadora about us so far.”

  “Lupin and Alastor know it as well,” Severus said.

  She looked at him in bewilderment. “What? How?”

  Severus cocked an eyebrow. “Werewolf and magical eye.”

  She groaned and ran her hand across her face. “I mean, Remus would have known until now anyway, I don't think Tonks could have kept it to herself. But Moody?” She groaned again.

  “Well, he didn't hex me yet so Lupin probably has found the right words to placate him.”

  “Right words?” She furrowed her brows.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lupin was here yesterday after he'd stopped Alastor from defending your honour or whatever he was up to. Got me drunk and tried to make it plain to me that I won't ever get rid of you.”

  “So?” she asked and once again bit her lip. “Did he succeed?”

  Severus looked her straight in the hazel eyes. “He did.”

  She smiled that breathtaking smile of hers. That smile that she smiled with her whole face and not just with her lips. “Thank Merlin!” she murmured. “I don't want to live at Grimmauld Place for a single day longer.”

  “Oh, really?” Yes, it was mean. But just because he'd more or less accepted that she loved him and wouldn't leave him and that he loved her and wouldn't let her go didn't mean he stopped being a Slytherin. “Where do you want to live then?”

  But Hermione just knew him too well already. Much too well. Better than was good for him since she only smirked and said, “Here. In this bed. I'm going to live in this bed forever.” And then she turned around and kissed him.

  A while later, Hermione apparently came to the conclusion that it wouldn't be wise to spend her life in his bed. It had been enough reminding her of the Felix Felicis that was simmering down in his lab, waiting to be continued. Since she'd come only clad in her pyjamas she'd transfigured it into jeans and a jumper after she'd cleaned her underwear magically. 

  “But seriously, Severus: Where are we going to live?” she asked now, standing in front of the cauldron, waiting for the colour to change.

  “What options do you have in mind?” he asked warily.

  She sighed. “We could stay here or look for somewhere else,” she suggested carefully. Then she bit her lip and added, “Or we ask Professor Dumbledore if we can return to the house.”

  Severus looked at her in horror.

  “Not with the barrier!” she tried to hush him, “Just … as it is now.”

  “That isn't helping matters,” he countered. Returning to the house? Returning to his prison of the last fourteen months? Only thinking about it got his hackles up.

  But Hermione looked wretched when she returned her eyes to the cauldron.

  Severus twisted his face. “Why do you want to go back?”

  “Because it's … our place. The place where I could get to know you, see the real you. The place where I started loving you. The place where you helped me come to terms with my past. I like that house. And I like us in that house.”

  He just stared at her.

  “Why don't you want to go back?” she asked when he'd been silent for a while.

  Severus gulped. “Because I … I'd be afraid of the barrier being back every time I look out of the window.”

  “I see,” she mumbled and began stirring the potion following a fixed pattern when the colour changed. Three times to the left, five times to the right, seven times to the left. Severus counted.

  “And I don't think Albus would let us live there,” he said when she was finished.

  Hermione frowned. “He's not pleased with the two of us, is he?”

  Severus huffed. “No, he's not.”

  “But … why?”

  He tilted his head back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Albus wants everyone to do what he tells them to do,” he began, “especially me. He'd always wanted me close, wanted to control me. He's probably always been afraid I would return to the Death Eaters. He trusted me when he locked us both up in that house. And I failed him.”

  She scrunched her nose. “Does my opinion count for nothing?”

  Severus pursed his lips. “I don't think Albus believed me when I told him I didn't force you. He doesn't believe that you could really have fallen in love with me on your own accord and genuinely. So … no.”

  “Does he think you … what? Manipulated me? Blackmailed me?”

  “Used you,” Severus said. “I think he can understand that you developed such an interest in me after such a long time in that house. He maybe even could have overlooked a little affair. But that I allowed you to get pregnant …”

  “What?” she snapped and arched her eyebrows. “Does he really think you gave me an ineffective contraceptive potion on purpose so I won't leave you after this … imprisonment?”

  Severus shrugged his shoulders. Albus probably thought exactly that. Or a variation of it.

  Hermione looked at him flabbergasted. She drew her fingers through her hair and Severus's eyes once more rested on her belly. The sight caused him less and less dread, maybe he really got used to the thought of becoming a father.

  Father … 

  Nope, this concept still didn't want to fit him. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. 

  “I don't want him to think about you like that!”

  Hermione's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He raised his eyes and looked at her. “I don't care what he thinks about me anymore,” Severus snarled, “I've spent enough time pleasing him, chasing for an absolution I will never receive. The war is over, I've paid my dues. Three months of torture have to be enough.”

  “So you won't teach at Hogwarts anymore?”

  “Hell no!” He barked a mirthless laugh. “What gave you that idea?”

  Hermione lowered her gaze. “Marvin Graytwig … He was your successor. He joined the Order last year and died a few months ago.”

  Severus frowned. That name had a familiar ring to him. He'd probably taught him. “And Albus wants me back? The term's already started.”

  Hermione shrugged. “That's what Remus hinted at. I don't know if Professor Dumbledore really hoped for it.”

  He shook his head. “Even if he wanted me to return before he released us he will now have changed his mind.”

  She sighed. “Yeah, probably.”

  Severus went to her and took her face in his hands. “I understand why you were comfortable in that house. But I don't want to live there anymore.” He said it in that tone of voice that always made her feel at ease.

  And in fact, she closed her eyes and smiled faintly. “Okay. May I then please move in with you here?”

  He bent down and kissed her gently. “You may.”

Chapter Text

  When Severus Apparated with Hermione in Cornwall he was suddenly unsure if that had really been the right decision. His grandmother was … and he was … He clicked his tongue. But Hermione distracted him.

  “Merlin, it is beautiful here,” she said, standing next to him and looking around curiously.

  Severus did the same and tried to see this place with her eyes. The weather wasn't that nice today. The clouds hung deep and grey above the sea, it was cold and windy. But it wasn't raining. Down at the waterfront, he could see the little harbour, some sailing and fisher boats were moored at the landing stage. The shrieking of the seagulls and the jingling of the metal rolls against the masts sounded up to them; this soft sound that he'd missed so dearly every time he'd been in the Pensieve. And in the distance, the cliffs arose high above the sea. He could smell sea salt and fish.

  Freedom.

  When he blinked Hermione looked at him, her head tilted. “What?” he asked in a deep voice.

  She smiled. “I think I've never seen you so … free.”

  He huffed, reached for her hand and went towards the house they'd arrived at. The house of his grandparents. Now only that of his grandmother. He really wasn't sure whether it had been a good idea to bring Hermione along. Of course, he had to get in touch with his grandmother sooner or later, she was his last living relative and she hadn't heard from him in how long? She would tell him in a second. But maybe he should have come alone at first and warned her. Smooth the waters, resolve the questions, intercept her grudge.

  He looked at Hermione. “Perhaps it's not been a good idea that you came with me today.”

  “I could go if you'd prefer,” she offered.

  Would he prefer she left? No. On the contrary. He was glad she was here and selfish enough to not send her away although that would probably have been the better decision. “No. Just … don't take what she says to heart.”

  “I won't,” she promised.

  Severus took a deep breath, then he knocked at the door. Here and there, the varnish came off in flakes and the old wood underneath was visible. Hermione's grip on his hand tightened while they waited.

  It took her excruciatingly long seconds to open the door. And when his grandmother peered through a gap, she looked at him as if she'd never seen him before. Then her face lit up. “Severus!” She pulled the door open and clasped him in her arms.

  Severus grumbled faintly but she was his Gran! Of course, he put up with her embrace. “Gran …”

  “Where have you been all this time?” she asked without letting him go. Her voice sounded as if she was alternating between anger and tears. 

  He rolled his eyes. “Could you let me go first?”

  “No! You haven't been here for two years! I'm entitled to hug you as long as I want to, do you hear me?”

  There it was. Two years. Hermione gave a little cough beside him, it sounded like she was trying to hide a laugh.

  Severus didn't know whether his grandmother only then realised that he wasn't alone or if she just didn't care until now. Anyway, she finally let him go and eyed Hermione up.

  Instantly she blushed.

  “Gran, that's Hermione Weasley, Hermione, this is my grandmother, Isobel Prince.”

  “Hello, Mrs Prince,” Hermione said and raised her hand to greet her. “I'm pleased to meet you.”

  His grandmother blinked, then she looked at him without shaking Hermione's hand. “Is she here to support your foul excuses?”

  Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose while Hermione slowly lowered her hand.

  “And since when do you have glasses?” she went on questioning him without even giving him a chance to answer. “They make you look so smart.”

  He took a deep breath. He really should've come alone at first. “Since we now clarified to whom I owe my tact,” he snarled impatiently, “would you let us in, or do you always welcome your guests on the doorstep?”

  Isobel narrowed her eyes. “I'm still considering whether you're my guest or my ex-grandson, Severus Snape.”

  He arched an eyebrow and just looked at her.

  After a few seconds, Isobel scoffed and threw her hands in the air. “Ah, whatever. But only because my arthrosis pains me today!” She turned around and went ahead through the hallway.

  Hermione stared at him wide-eyed.

  “What?” Severus snapped.

  “The resemblance is astonishing,” she breathed and bit her lip. “I already like her.”

  His grandmother looked old. Much older than Severus remembered her to be. He watched her preparing some tea, putting scones on a plate and letting all of it hover on the table, accompanied by milk, sugar and cups. The wrinkly hands, the grey hair, the apron she'd tied around her hips. She groaned when she sat down at the kitchen table.

  “Do you want me to prepare a pain-relief potion for you?” Severus asked while he poured them tea.

  “I want you to tell me why you haven't been here in two years.”

  “I never came here that frequently,” he reminded her.

  “You've never been away for two years! I could have died and you wouldn't even have noticed!”

  Hermione cut him a glance and gulped.

  “Just like me,” Severus countered unblinkingly.

  Isobel looked at him. Silently. Then, “Am I to ask what you're implying or will you spare me?”

  Severus rubbed his forehead. Every time he visited his Gran he wondered if he was just as annoying when talking with others. Hermione's smirk, however, was more of an answer than he'd cared to get. “Do you want to hear the long or the short story?” he asked.

  “The true story. And why is she even here?” She inclined her head at Hermione.

  “Hermione is the end of the story.”

  Once again, she eyed Hermione appraisingly. “Seems to be an important end if you bring her here.”

  Severus looked at Hermione. And he relaxed. “It is. Hermione saved my life and then she decided to spend hers at my side.”

  Isobel almost choked on her tea.

  Severus glared at her sulkily. “What, Gran? What about this is so unbelievable to you?”

  She used her apron to dab her mouth. “A woman? You? I always thought you weren't even interested in women.”

  Hermione pinned her lips together.

  Severus, however, crossed his arms over his chest. “What gave you the idea?”

  “You never talked about women. Never brought one. And you are still unwed and without children in your early forties. That gave me the idea,” she listed as if she'd been prepared for such a question.

  “Without children will soon be a matter of the past,” Severus snarled, watching with great satisfaction as his grandmother's expression slipped.

  “No!”

  “Yes.”

  She looked at Hermione. “No.”

  Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “Yes.” She straightened her loose shirt so her bump became apparent.

  Isobel slumped in her chair. “Well, now I'm curious about that story.”

  Severus had never told his grandparents about him being a spy. They'd known that he'd been a Death Eater and they'd known that he'd renounced the Dark Lord, finding shelter as a teacher at Hogwarts. Knowing more about what he'd been doing for the Order would have just unsettled them.

  He'd also meticulously taken care of the Dark Lord never learning that they existed at all. Even when he'd been a loyal servant he'd distracted him from those memories and never mentioned his family. Luckily, the Dark Lord had always been satisfied seeing the memories of his Muggle father. Because of him, Severus had been so fascinated by the Dark Arts. Because of him, he'd joined the Death Eaters. The Dark Lord had never been interested in anything else. Family had been meaningless to him.

  But that he'd completely withheld this part of his life from his grandparents made the already long story even longer. They emptied the first pot of tea and the second. They ate the scones and during the third pot of tea Isobel also prepared them a supper. The more she got to know about what had happened during the last twenty years of Severus's life the more her surliness disappeared, the more sincere her questions and the clearer her worry about him became. 

  Not only was she his last living relative – he was also hers.

  Hermione sat silently at the table and this afternoon, she probably learned almost as much about him as Isobel. At least she clung to his words just as much as his grandmother. At one point, she grasped his hand underneath the table and brushed her thumb across the back of his hand.

  When Severus was finished with his story, his grandmother sighed deeply. It almost seemed as if even her wrinkles had become a bit deeper during the last hours. “I wish you'd have told me about all of this earlier.”

  “No,” Severus replied, “now is just the right time. Now it is over and I can present you a good end.”

  Isobel looked at Hermione. “How old are you actually?” she asked.

  Hermione's eyebrows twitched. “Nineteen and a half years younger than Severus.”

  “And you've got a good relationship with your father?”

  Severus rolled his eyes.

  But Hermione chuckled. “Yes, a very good one. Same with my mother.”

  “Huh,” Isobel uttered.

  Casting a fleeting glance at Severus, Hermione said, “I didn't fall in love with Severus because of the age gap but despite it, Mrs Prince. I've been married to a man just as old as me. It's not daddy issues that drove me to him.”

  “You've already been married?” Isobel inquired, her eyebrows raised.

  “Gran!” Severus interjected but Hermione briefly squeezed his hand and he lapsed into silence.

  “Yes, I was. My husband died one and a half years ago in battle. He was an Auror.” Her free hand fumbled for the ring she wore on her necklace. Isobel's eyes darted to it.

  “And then a child … so quickly …”

  Hermione took a deep breath in order to answer but Severus beat her to it. “No!”

  Isobel eyed him challengingly. “Just saying,” she mumbled.

  “I know your Just saying, Gran.”

  She straightened on her chair. “Since you've never mentioned a woman for forty-two years I've got the damn right to be sceptical when you're suddenly standing at my door with such a chit of a girl nearing confinement!”

  “At what point during the last forty-two years, pray tell, should I have mentioned Hermione? Before she was even born? Or while she's been my damn student? Would that have strengthened your trust in our relationship?” he snapped.

  “Severus, it's -”

  He cut Hermione a sharp glance and she hushed.

  “I'm not talking about her! I trust she's not the first woman in your life,” Isobel retorted.

  “That's none of your business,” he said. “And considering how you treat her I'm glad I didn't tell you anything earlier.”

  “So now it is my fault?” He only shrugged his eyebrows and his grandmother huffed. “You're just like your mother, Severus. She, too, only told me about your father when she was already pregnant with you.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Hermione is not like Father! And it wasn't my decision to introduce you only now.”

  “Yes, that's what you said,” she muttered and brushed her thumb across the rim of her cup.

  Severus sighed and reached for her hand, catching the eyes of his grandmother. “Hermione is the opposite of Father, Gran. You will not find any other person with such a high sense of morality. She has more reason to be afraid of me becoming like him.”

  Isobel knitted her brows, shook her head and put her other hand on his. “You are not like your father, Severus.”

  “I do hope I'm not,” he said. He really did. “I would have let you know that I'm all right but that would have put you in danger. Lucius Malfoy was just as cruel as the Dark Lord. He tried to abduct Hermione to torture her before my very eyes. And we haven't even been romantically involved with each other then. I don't want to imagine what he would have done to you if he'd known about your existence.” What Lucius had done with Minerva caused him enough sleepless nights as it was. It had been sheer dumb luck that Lucius never thought about checking Severus's ancestry. That he never even considered it possible that Severus had lied to the Dark Lord and him when he'd said he hadn't any family left. Reaching out to his grandmother (or letting Albus do it) would have been pushing his luck.

  “I was afraid for you,” Isobel said gently, her eyes glued to their hands.

  “I know.”

  After a few more seconds, she let go of him. “So, how are you going to deal with all of this now?”

  “What do you mean?” Severus asked warily and sipped at his tea.

  “Will you marry? Where do you want to live? Will you even move in together? That's apparently not a given anymore these days.” She looked back and forth between Severus and Hermione.

  “We haven't even been together for half a year now, Gran! Marriage has not yet come up.”

  “Well, a child obviously has,” she argued pointedly.

  Severus glared at her. “Yes, we will move in together. Hermione will move in with me.”

  “You mean at Spinner's end?” Isobel asked in shock.

  “Of course at Spinner's End. That's where I live.”

  She gasped. “You cannot raise a child at Spinner's End, Severus!”

  “Why not? I was raised at Spinner's End.”

  “That's what I mean! That awful house screwed up my grandson, I refuse to let that happen to my great-grandchild as well.”

  “Thank you,” Severus replied cloyingly before he scowled at her. “Do you have another house available? Because I don't.”

  “You can move in here,” she said without missing a beat.

  Severus snorted. “And where do you want to live?”

  She waved his objections aside. “The granny flat's enough for me. I used to rent it to tourists but that's becoming too much of a hassle lately. This house is too big for me, Severus. It's decaying more and more. And still, it is better than this dump your father deported you to.”

  He rolled his eyes and looked at Hermione. Her mouth was ajar, she shrugged her shoulder.

  Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We will think about it.”

  “You should think about it quickly,” she added.

  “Yes, Gran, I know!” Severus snapped.

  “Just saying,” she mumbled again and smiled innocently.

  Severus took a deep breath. Hermione had put her elbow on the table and hid her mouth behind her hand. But he could see the wrinkles around her eyes. They disappeared instantly when he narrowed his own. “We should go now,” he decided and rose.

  Isobel followed suit. “Don't you dare stay away for such a long time again!”

  “Why, Gran, I was planning on doing just that. I wanted myself to be tortured and locked away all over again,” he said in a silky voice but let himself be hugged in parting.

  She took his face in her hands and her almost black eyes, the eyes that he'd inherited from her just like his sense of tact, pierced into his. “I'm glad you are all right.”

  Severus smiled fleetingly, then he kissed her forehead. “Me too, Gran.”

  They decided to make a stop at Grimmauld Place to fetch some of Hermione's things and while they were leaving the Apparition ban surrounding the house of his grandmother she eyed him attentively. Eventually, she took a deep breath, presumably to ask one of the many questions she'd come up with during the afternoon. “Can we talk about it later?” he asked her.

  She closed her mouth and nodded. So this afternoon and the first impression Hermione had got from Isobel Prince was still silently standing between them when they were sorting and shrinking everything Hermione wanted to take. Her things. Weasley's things. They'd shared this room and it was as if he was lurking in every nook and cranny. Severus clenched his teeth until he got a headache.

  “Do you want a glass of water as well?” he asked after about an hour. He needed a break, he had to get out of here.

  “No,” Hermione mumbled and didn't even spare him a glance while he left the room and went downstairs to the kitchen.

  Being back here, at 12 Grimmauld Place, worsened his headache. It wasn't the same as when Black had still lived here. The house-elves' heads had disappeared, the portrait of Walburga Black was permanently hushed (although still nobody had succeeded in taking it down), the walls had been newly painted and his steps echoed on the fresh flooring. But it was still 12 Grimmauld Place and he hated this house.

  He fetched a glass from the kitchen cabinet and poured himself some cold tap water. He drank slowly, his hip supported at the worktop, and savoured the sensation in his throat.

  A movement to his right, however, attracted his attention.

  Ginevra Weasley had become older. Tall and lean, her hair longer than he remembered. She stared at him as if she'd seen a ghost. “Professor Snape,” she mumbled.

  He grimaced. “I'm not a professor anymore.” The throbbing between his temples got heavier, he rubbed his forehead. Yes, he would have to deal with Hermione's friends but did he really have to do it today, of all days? His gran had already taken a toll on him, Weasley's things had taken a toll – he would have appreciated postponing this meeting. 

  But it was at this moment that Ginevra was standing in the doorway and she was obviously torn between her former teacher and the partner of her friend. The successor of her brother. Severus sighed and cleared his throat. “And since Hermione and I are … closer now,” he forced himself to say, “I guess it would be appropriate to call each other by our first names.”

  She gulped. “I … don't know if I …” Her voice faded.

  He arched his eyebrows. “If you … what? Want to do that?”

  She shook her head. “If I can do that.”

  Severus turned his head from side to side. “We will learn.” He frowned. “My sincerest condolences on the loss of your mother and brother, Ginevra.”

  She looked away quickly and folded her arms across her chest. “Thank you,” she squeezed out, then she left the kitchen without doing whatever she'd been coming here for.

  Severus closed his eyes and sighed. Well, that had gone absolutely brilliant.

  He drained his glass, cleaned it and put it back into the cabinet. Then he returned to Hermione. She was sitting on the bed, looking through a chest of photos and letters. Her eyes were swimming with tears when she looked up at him.

  He winced. “Can we please go home and get back here another day?”

  She bobbed her head and brushed her eyes. Closing the chest, she put it back onto the desk.

  “Don't you want to take it?” Severus asked.

  She looked at him in surprise. “Is that okay?”

  He frowned. “Of course, it is okay. These are your things, Mia.”

  She smiled (more tears were welling in her eyes) and took the chest under her arm while he snatched the two bags with shrunken clothes and other stuff. Even back in the days when Black had still been living here, Severus had never been so glad to leave 12 Grimmauld Place.

  After he'd got himself a pain-relief potion and put the bags with Hermione's things in his bedroom (he didn't know where to store her clothes, he would worry about it tomorrow) he found her in the living room. She was huddled into the armchair, once again lost in the pictures and letters she'd taken with her.

  Severus sat down on the old threadbare sofa and watched her. Sometimes she smiled, sometimes she frowned. Sometimes a tear ran down her cheek. It was the first time he really understood how much of a past Hermione brought into this relationship as well. That not only she would have to carry a lot of his burden but he of hers as well. They'd both lost the person they'd believed to be the one for them. They'd both lost friends. Both of their souls were torn and patched up. Both of them still had to heal.

  For the first time ever, he'd had a feeling that they perhaps weren't so different after all. That the nineteen and a half years, her friends and her warm nature in fact were all items on a very short list of differences. 

  After more than an hour that he'd silently kept her company, Hermione closed the chest and came to him. She sat down and nestled against him. “Exhausting day,” she said softly.

  “Indeed,” he agreed and put his arm around her.

  “What did your father do, Severus?” she asked after a while.

  He gulped and sighed softly. Had this … damn day still not been hard enough? But while he was pondering whether he should ask Hermione to talk about this another day he already heard himself answer, “He murdered my mother.”

  She took a sharp breath.

  “And he's never been made accountable for it.”

  Hermione sat up and gaped at him. “Why is that?”

  He ran his hand down his face. “Because he was a Muggle that murdered a pure-blood witch. My mother wasn't registered with the Muggle offices any more than I am. For the police, she didn't even exist. Reporting her death to the Muggle officials would have caused more chaos than it would have helped. And the Ministry of Magic doesn't try Muggle crimes.”

  “That's horrible,” she breathed.

  Severus looked at her. The living room was dim by now, the residual light painting shadows on her face and glistening in her eyes. “It is in the past,” he replied.

  She took a deep breath. “Your grandmother is right. You aren't anything like your father.” Then she nestled back against him.

  “I do hope I'm not,” he whispered and put his chin on her head, her scent enveloping him like a warm cloth.

Chapter Text

  “Your grandmother is …”

  “What?” Severus asked when her voice faded.

  “Interesting.” There was a smile in her voice and goosebumps on his scalp where her hands were weaving through his hair.

  She had actually been awake before him today and sat, her back propped against the headboard and a book in her hand, in the bed. Severus however, wasn't interested in moving any more than strictly necessary. His glasses were still lying on the nightstand and would stay there for a while to come. Here, in his bed, together with Hermione, it didn't matter whether or not he could see clearly. He'd only rolled to his side and slung his arm around her waist. Today, it was him lying in her arms and that felt both strange and wonderful. 

  But now he huffed. “She's intrusive on her good days and insufferable on any other.”

  “I think she is just like you actually.”

  He grumbled faintly. His mother had always claimed the same.

  “Will you really think about moving into her house or did you just say it to slither out of that offer?”

  Severus sighed. There were a hundred things he would like doing more right now than talking, let alone about that topic. Most of them, however, included mouths. And tongues. And naked skin. He contemplated distracting Hermione, taking her mind off his gran, indulging her thoroughly … But alas, they would have to talk about it at some point. So he reluctantly decided to remind her, “She offered it to us both.”

  “Right. Even though I don't understand why. She didn't seem particularly happy about me.”

  Her fingers traced his scalp again, Severus shuddered blissfully. “Oh, she did like you,” he said languidly, “or she would've ignored you.”

  “Oh, she's so much like you?” Hermione laughed.

  Severus smirked. 

  “Do you want to live there, Severus?”

  “I don't care where I live, Mia.” Nothing was tying him to this house. It hadn't been a home when he'd been a child and even less so after the past one and a half years. But it was a house and until he'd earned some money it stood to reason. “Where do you want to live?”

  “With you,” she said in an instant. “But Cornwall is nicer than this area …”

  He scoffed. “Even Azkaban is nicer than this area. But perhaps you should talk with your parents before you decide. Cornwall isn't exactly around the corner.”

  Her fingers stilled. “My parents are in Australia and don't even remember that I exist.”

  Severus frowned and looked up at her. But he only saw her blurred face and so he groped for his damn glasses. “What have you done?” he asked and sat up. 

  She sighed gravely and rubbed her forehead. “I got them out of harm's way. Out of the war. I didn't want Voldemort to get them.”

  “When?” he asked.

  “About seven years ago.” She shrugged her shoulders, smiling unsteadily.

  Severus stared at her, totally lost for words. A state he wasn't particularly fond of. Seven years. “What exactly have you done to them, Hermione? Have you erased their memories?”

  “No!” she quickly said. “No. They think they are someone else entirely. A couple without children. Their old life, their old memories … It's all in their minds. Somewhere.”

  He leaned against the headboard next to her. “And do you want to reverse it?”

  She sighed again. “I don't know. Would it be fair? They have a life over there. They have friends, they are happy.”

  “Weren't they happy here?”

  Hermione rested her head against his arm. “I don't know. I didn't visit them often.”

  Severus slung his arm around her. “We still have time to think about these things.”

  “Yes, some.”

  He looked at her bump. Soon no loose top would be able to hide it anymore. “I met Ginevra yesterday.”

  “Oh,” Hermione uttered. “How did it go?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “It was unpleasant.”

  “I'm sorry I wasn't there.”

  “I am absolutely capable of talking with your friends without you there to hold my hand,” he growled.

  Hermione looked at him, biting her lip. “Are you now?”

  He arched an eyebrow.

  Hermione stretched up and kissed him. “Relax. And give her some time. Tonks has taken it better.”

  Severus rolled his eyes. “Of course, she has …”

  “Apropos,” Hermione said and sounded a tad too casual, “I'd like to talk to Professor Dumbledore.”

  “To what end?” Severus inquired and tensed instantly.

  Hermione sat up and looked at him seriously. “I don't want him to think that you used or blackmailed me in any way. I am here because I want to be. Just thinking about it …” She twisted her face. “It makes me sick, Severus.”

  He ran his hand down his face, once again forgetting about his damn glasses. There was little ranging as low on his list of priorities as Albus. Yes, the Headmaster had done a lot for him. But Severus had also endured a lot for that man. He didn't feel obliged to Albus anymore, not in the least. “Why is it so important to you?” he asked.

  “Because you are important to me.”

  Apparently, it was that easy. And still, he looked at her astonished. Blinked. Then he nodded curtly. “I will not accompany you.”

  “I don't want you to.” She brushed his hair back. And then she kissed him.

  Severus wondered if he would ever be less bewildered about her wanting him. If it would ever feel more natural. And whether he even wanted it that way. This little moment when her lips met his, when his body thought it so extraordinary and wonderful that it fired tingling spurts of adrenaline … No, he didn't want it to ever be different. It was extraordinary and wonderful. He put his hand on her neck and held her close.

  But Hermione had different plans. “You still have to make good on your promise,” she said mischievously. 

  “Do I?” he asked. He really didn't know what she was talking about.

  “Yes. You promised to tell me what you meant with that diving into your magic one day.”

  Right. That promise. Severus smirked. “That I cannot tell you, Mia. That I have to show you.” And now he didn't even have to warn her about the impact.

  “Okay,” she said, “then show me.”

  He ran his finger along her face. “Do you trust me?”

  She frowned. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because first I have to show you how you can penetrate your own mind. And that is a lot easier if you allow me to go into your mind to guide you. So … do you trust me?”

  She nestled her face in his hand, looking him straight in the eyes, and said, “Blindly.”

  They moved into the house of his grandmother. 

  Hermione decided to visit her parents in Australia for Christmas to sort things out with them. She would contact them and try to find out if they were at peace with the life they were living now or if they wanted to know who they really were. And who Hermione was. “But even if they want to know and even if they want to return to England we can still pick them up if they want to visit us. They don't have to drive to Cornwall by car.”

  So Severus surrendered. Cornwall was nicer than Spinner's End. And he liked the thought of having more contact with his grandmother. She was slowly reaching an age when she would need more help. It was better when she was not living out here on her own anymore. 

  And apart from that, they had a lot in common. Exhibit A: She watched Hermione equally as bewildered as Severus on this thirty-first of October. “Does she know that all of this is rubbish?” Isobel asked him when Hermione leaned a broom against the house, right next to some bread and water.

  “I do hope so,” he said and furrowed his brows.

  “Maybe you should enlighten her on it.”

  Severus looked at his grandmother. “She's a Gryffindor, Gran. And pregnant. And stubborn. It is easier to just let her have her way.”

  “But ghosts don't eat,” she said and crossed her arms over her chest. “And evil ghosts won't shy away from an old broom.”

  “I know.” But he wouldn't stop Hermione from indulging in all of those Muggle customs surrounding Samhain. 

  “You will be the one explaining to your grandfather what all of this is about.”

  Severus frowned. “I've got enough to explain tonight,” he said before he turned away and went down to the lab. The Felicis demanded his attention, just like some of his experiments. And he still had to answer the letter the publisher of Potio had sent him. He was very interested in Severus's discourse about the Vicissitudo Virtus – just like the publishers of almost every journal and book that had ever published something about this topic.

  Severus began by drafting his answer but his thoughts kept wandering. He threw the quill aside and leaned back in his chair, sighing. He was almost as horrified by this Samhain as he'd been by every Samhain he'd had to spend at Malfoy Manor. But the reasons couldn't have been more different.

  Candles were the only source of light in the living room. They were standing circled on the floor, on the windowsills, on shelves and cupboards. Hermione, Isobel and Severus were standing around the candles on the floor and he could hardly take his eyes off Hermione's face, from the warm light, the flickering shadows.

  Midnight grew nearer with every slow tick of the clock. Soon the gates dividing the afterlife from their reality would open and whether there was a broom at the door or not, the ghosts would visit all the houses they were remembered in and invited to.

  Hermione's mouth was ajar, she was breathing faster than normal. The flames twitched in the draught coming from the open door, sweeping through the room. Goosebumps crawled down Severus's back but he doubted that it was due to the cold. 

  When the clock started chiming Hermione flinched, smiling. “The time has come,” she whispered.

  Severus nodded and glanced at the door. He thought he could hear the rushing of the sea, his heart was thumping wildly. He waited for them to come. Soon. They didn't have a lot of time, only one hour.

  The last time a ghost had visited him had been the year his grandfather had died. That year as well, he'd celebrated Samhain with his grandmother and they'd both bid him farewell. He'd died so suddenly that they hadn't got the chance in life. After that, they hadn't celebrated Samhain together again and he hadn't wanted to take even a single minute from his grandmother's time with her late husband, so he'd refrained from inviting him.

  Today, he hoped to bid more than one person farewell. And not only that. He wanted to apologise. He wanted to explain. So much had remained unspoken.

  When Hermione was growing more and more nervous, six gleaming swathes sneaked into the living room. Severus would have hardly noticed them if he would not have been waiting for them, knowing what they would look like. He caught Hermione's attention and directed it to the guises standing with them now.

  One of them, his grandfather, turned to his wife at once. Isobel had tears in her eyes when she greeted him. Another one joined them. Severus knew that it was his grandmother's sister but he'd never got to know her. She'd died early, looking hardly older than twenty. His grandfather noticed him and smiled, Severus inclined his head at him.

  Then he looked around. No, once again she had not come. He caught his grandmother's eyes. She had hoped to see her daughter, he his mother, like probably every year since she had died. But Eileen had never come, not a single time. He dropped his gaze, then he turned towards the other ghosts.

  They were standing next to each other a few feet away from him. “Welcome,” Severus and Hermione said in unison. He saw her smile unsteadily, absent-mindedly brushing across her swollen bump. He'd often seen her doing it during the last weeks. 

  After a few seconds, two of the ghosts stepped forwards. One went to Hermione (Severus didn't know her, probably one of her grandmothers), the other one to Severus. His eyes wandered across the milky face of his former colleague, the memories of their last encounter through his mind. “Minerva,” he said softly, his voice trembling.

  She smiled a little, hardly noticeable. “Severus.” Her voice sounded as if it came from very far away. As if a great hall with high ceilings would carry the sound, only allowing him an idea of it. 

  Severus gulped. Since the barrier had prevented any ghost from visiting them last year he'd yearned for this moment. “I should have protected you,” he said hollowly. “I am sorry, Minerva.”

  She raised her hand and the idea of a touch emitted a cool shudder on his cheek. “You are not to blame for my death. I am just glad you survived.”

  He closed his eyes, clenching his teeth. “Lucius was after you only because of me. I am to blame,” he pressed out.

  “It is very Gryffindor of you, wanting to take a blame that is not yours,” Minerva countered and arched her eyebrows.

  “Gryffindor …” He scoffed.

  “Do you want to deny it?”

  “Vehemently.” After all, he had a reputation to keep up.

  “Gryffindor is in you, Severus. It always was and always will be. It took me a long time to realise it and at this point, I don't understand why.” She smiled wanly. “Slytherin took so much from you … I hope, this Gryffindor can give you back a part of it.” She glanced at Hermione and her smile strengthened. “I wish you two all the best.”

  Severus nodded slowly. “Thank you, Minerva.”

  Eventually, she turned away and stepped back into the line. But this time, she took the opposite end. And while Harry Potter stepped forward next, heading to Hermione, Draco turned his back on his former classmate and directed his attention at Severus.

  He couldn't help but straighten his posture. The hint of a derisive smile twitched on Draco's face when he stopped in front of him. “Professor Snape,” he said and his voice as well sounded like a far-away echo.

  “Draco.”

  “How's the panther?”

  The corners of Severus's mouth jerked upwards when he pulled the leg of his trousers up, showing the scarred constellation to the boy.

  Draco nodded pensively. “I am glad you got through all of it, sir. That at least you survived Father.”

  “I would have swapped my place with you in an instant,” Severus said.

  “Yes, you'd have. At that time.”

  Severus lowered his eyes. True. Today, he wouldn't swap their places anymore. Today, he had committed himself to something else. Severus looked at Hermione who was talking with Potter. Tears were glistening in her eyes and again and again, her gaze fluttered to the line of ghosts. Ronald Weasley was not there. Severus turned back to Draco. “Today, I can only die for her or my child.”

  “I know. I hope she knows it as well. And above all, I hope that she appreciates it.”

  “She does.”

  Draco nodded. “Thank you, sir. You tried to help me. I regret that I turned it down.” And before Severus had a chance to answer him, Draco pivoted on the spot and returned to the line.

  A loud sob drew Severus's attention. Ronald Weasley had just appeared. Apparently, he'd quickly visited his father and his siblings before he came here. He went to Hermione and Severus turned to his grandfather to let them talk.

  “Severus,” his grandfather said and Isobel stepped aside.

  “Gramps.” He cut his grandmother's sister a glance – she returned it curiously. “Any idea why Mum once again chose not to come?”

  He shook his head. “No. She doesn't talk a lot. Maybe she will tell you when you come to us many, many years from now.”

  “She's always been stubborn,” Isobel mumbled. But the pain of her only daughter refusing to visit was visible on her face.

  “Well, there's one thing,” his grandfather reported then. Both Isobel and Severus looked up at him. “She says hello.”

  Isobel sobbed softly. “Say hello to her as well, Marvin! Tell her I love her and I miss her.”

  Marvin nodded and brushed her cheek as light as a feather, just like Minerva had done with Severus. Then he expectantly looked at his grandson but the younger man remained silent. He didn't have to say anything to his mother. She'd died when he'd been seventeen. He'd been at Hogwarts at that point. He hadn't had a chance to say goodbye to her and yet she'd never cared to accept one of his invitations on Samhain. No, there was nothing he wanted to tell her. His grandfather nodded and averted his eyes.

  Severus remained standing with them but he looked around through the living room. Minerva had left by now; probably Albus had invited her as well. Draco had left, too. Severus hoped that there was someone else he wanted to visit tonight. Perhaps Narcissa.

  And from the corner of his eye, he watched Hermione and Ronald. Potter was stepping back and before he dissolved (certainly he wanted to visit Ginevra) their eyes met. He briefly nodded at him, Severus returned it. Then he disappeared.

  Severus glanced at the clock. About half an hour had already passed. He only listened with half an ear to what his grandparents and his grandaunt were talking but he tried to watch Hermione and Ronald not too obviously. She had this one hour per year with him, she should savour it.

  A movement at the door caught Severus's attention, though, shortly before the hour neared its end. Another ghost appeared and for a moment he hoped it would be his mother. Or Lily who hadn't followed a single one of his invitations either. But it was Molly. She went to Hermione and her son and cast Severus a glance that clearly said that he had no business in their conversation. A glance that clearly said that there were people even in the afterlife who were not happy about his and Hermione's relationship.

  He just wanted to return to his grandparents when he noticed Ronald saying goodbye to Hermione, reluctantly and with the same pain in his face that was edged in hers as well. Hermione pressed a hand to her mouth and tried to keep her composure. Molly stayed with her while Ronald came to Severus.

  He took a deep breath and pulled his shoulders back.

  Ronald didn't say a single word when he'd reached Severus. No greeting, no insult, no indignant protest. For a long time, they only regarded each other. They weren't on different levels anymore. They were equals – except for the fact that Severus was alive and Ronald was not.

  Severus swallowed and inclined his head. “I am sorry you did not get the chance to grow old at her side.”

  Ronald nodded, glancing back at Hermione and his mother. “I don't know what she sees in you but … please take good care of her.” He visibly struggled to say these words.

  Severus frowned. “I will. I give you my word.”

  He nodded again and turned away from Severus, returning to his mother. She put a hand on Ronald's shoulder and said something that Severus couldn't understand. Ronald nodded but he seemed saddened. When Severus looked for Hermione he noticed that she observed him. Him and not Ronald. He smiled and she returned it. He went to her, carefully minding the candles on the floor, and she grasped his hand.

  They turned to the ghosts and watched them dissolve, one after the other. Hermione leaned against him and sighed. “None of them asked, Severus.”

  For a moment, he didn't know what she was talking about. Then he remembered. The dead could have asked Hermione to be reborn through her child. Severus held his breath for a moment, then he exhaled slowly. “I didn't expect anything else.” She looked up at him, her eyes still wet. “None of them would want to rob your child of the chance of getting its own personality.” He twisted his face and added, “And none of them would have wanted me as their father.”

  Hermione laughed softly. “They don't know what they miss.”

  Isobel appeared at his other side, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. “As soon as I am on the other side I will have a serious word with Eileen.”

  Severus rolled his eyes. “Before or after you've hugged her for as long as you want to because she hasn't visited you for … how long exactly?”

  “Twenty-five years,” Isobel growled.

  “Right, twenty-five years.”

  “Before. And after. And in the process,” Isobel promised. Then she looked at him and the pain of a mother loving and missing her daughter was written in her dark eyes. “What does she think I would say, Severus? Does she think I would blame her for what has happened?”

  He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I don't know, Gran.” Then he put a hand on her shoulder and she grasped it.

  Severus looked at Hermione. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, her cheeks splotchy, and in her free hand, she kneaded a handkerchief. She was chewing on the inside of her cheek and was looking so adorable that he pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “I love you,” he murmured so softly that his grandmother didn't hear it, feeling at home for the first time in … well, his life.

  She sighed and smiled at him. “I love you, too.”

I'll go anywhere you want,
anywhere you want,
anywhere you want me.

(Sleeping at Last – Mercury)

Chapter Text

  Warm water was flowing over Severus's hands – waves caused by the kicking of the baby. The wrinkled face was still a bit purple and white vernix was sticking in the folds of its skin. He traced the groin of his son with a long finger when he extended his leg and pulled the arms close to his body to cry out once again. The little tongue vibrated in his gaping mouth and Severus smiled when he saw the toothless gums. 

  With his large hand, he shoved more water across the round belly and grasped one of the feet. The toes curled when he touched the sole. Due to his calloused hands, he was hardly able to feel the tender skin of the boy. It was so soft, a stark contrast to his unexpected strong kicks.

  It was these kicks that Severus knew best about his son. It had been their way of communicating through Hermione's abdominal wall. To the sight, however, he had to get used. And to the label 'he' since - although Severus had always stubbornly claimed they would get a son - he'd been secretly convinced Hermione's prophecy of the baby being a girl would come true. 

  But the baby whose arm he had in a firm grip while its heavy head rested on his forearm was definitely a boy.

  The healer who'd done the first examination after the birth had left the room after all results had been satisfactory. And the young mediwitch had left as well, although she just wanted to show a new colleague where she would find fresh sheets. She would probably return soon.

  Eventually, a shudder rippled through the small body and Severus put his free hand underneath his son's bottom to lift him from the water. He laid him onto the soft towel waiting next to the sink and tucked the loose ends tightly around the squirming limbs. Only the hands he freed from the white fabric. He liked to see them.

  “Mr Snape?”

  He looked at the door where another mediwitch was standing. She'd tended to Hermione earlier, now she smiled as she saw the boy. “She's waiting for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Carefully he took the baby in his arms and followed the mediwitch across the corridor. The blonde ponytail bobbed up and down and the collar of her mauve gown glitched once so he could spot a silver necklace.

  The rhythm of Severus's steps and the warmth of the towel were calming the child in his arms and when he entered the room in which Hermione recovered from giving birth it'd already fallen asleep.

  Hermione, however, flinched when the door was opened. The exhaustion of the last hours was deeply edged into her face – at least until she saw Severus. No, not him. The bundle in his arms. The sight of her child gave her enough strength to replace the exhaustion with a beam Severus had never before seen on her. She struggled to sit up and reached her hands out when he'd got close enough to the bed.

  “I'll leave you alone,” the mediwitch said and when Severus inclined his head at her she closed the door.

  For a few moments, he stood silently at Hermione's bed and watched her murmuring unintelligible words to her son. She used everything her body offered to take him in, to eye him, to feel him, to get to know him and to identify him as her child. Her fingers traced along his forehead, the little button nose, the slightly parted lips. She brushed up the fine black hair, scrutinised his fingers and sighed when she noticed his nails.

  “I don't think you've ever been this much a woman,” Severus noticed.

  “I've never been this much a mother, either,” she countered without taking her eyes off the small face.

  “Touché.”

  “So, will you stay over there forever or will you come here and praise me for my incredible performance?”

  He arched an eyebrow and stayed where he was since he absolutely couldn't guess how she would react to what he was about to answer. “Praise you for something nature intended? Don't you think that's a bit over the top?”

   “Not in the least. After all, he's got your pighead.”

  Although he'd had absolutely no idea what she would do she still managed to surprise him. Severus snorted and circled the bed to sit down alongside Hermione. He slung his arm around her and the child and pulled her closer. “I'm proud of you,” he whispered and shoved her heavy hair aside to kiss her temple.

  Hermione sighed softly. “Merlin …” she mumbled in a weak voice and leaned her head against his chin, “What have we done, Severus?”

  He looked down at his sleeping son and the tingling returned to his stomach. “I have absolutely no idea.”

  “I guess we can't change it back?”

  “Hardly. But if you distract them and I …” He lapsed into silence when she laughed faintly.

  “We need a name,” she then noted.

  “We could have solved that problem prior to his birth if you had not insisted on keeping the sex a secret.”

  She didn't react to his accusation but tickled the palm of the baby when it extended its fingers in its sleep. Immediately, they closed around Hermione's and she gasped in surprise. “He's so strong …”

  “He needs to be with us as his parents.”

  They both remained silent for a while and although Severus expected the little one to be hungry he kept on sleeping for now. Probably the time had seemed so long to him not only because he'd had to spend it idly at the head of Hermione's bed but because it actually had been so long.

  “Do you want to give him a traditional name?” Hermione finally asked.

  Severus wrinkled his nose. “Severus won't make him happy. Tobias won't make me happy. Marvin?”

  Hermione twisted her face.

  “Yeah,” he growled, “on the list of names with which nobody takes you seriously that's ranging right behind Neville.”

  “Severus!” she chided him and bumped her elbow into his side.

  He grinned. “I don't know the name of my paternal grandfather.”

  “Did you never want to know?”

  “No.”

  They were quiet again but he could literally hear Hermione think.

  “And how about your family?”

  “My father's name is Richard. That's not exactly the name I envisioned for my son. I hate it when his friends call him Dick.”

  Severus chuckled. “And the generation before him?”

  She pursed her lips. “Eric. My maternal grandfather. And Leslie my paternal.”

  Severus rolled his eyes. “Lovely choices.”

  She smiled and directly looked at him for the first time since he'd entered the room. “Anything better springing to mind?”

  “Spontaneously, no. But we certainly would have found something better if -”

  “Yeah, I know, if I hadn't been so stubborn and kept the sex a secret,” she interrupted him.

  “I see, we agree,” he drawled and silenced an objection of hers with a quick kiss. “Eric is acceptable.”

  “Acceptable, huh?”

  “Yes. It is neither Severus nor Tobias. That's enough.”

  “Well. Then Eric.” She traced the forehead of the now no longer nameless child as if that gesture would seal the matter. And then she added, “But don't think you could win each discussion just because you approve of my name suggestion!”

  “Of course not,” he uttered, “That would be too many children.”

Chapter Text

  “You should go,” she'd said.

  “It's important for you,” she'd said.

  “Maybe it'll help you to get some closure,” she'd said.

  That the mere sight of Lucius's blond hair would bring back the old horror, that she had not said.

  Severus took a deep breath and held it for a second. He felt his pulse everywhere, his hands were cold and damp and he sank a bit deeper into the bench of Courtroom 3, Ministry of Magic. He'd sat down at the aisle and now he turned to look for the doors. Yes, they were still open.

  The hall was crowded. The humming of hundreds of whispering voices filled the air. So many people had come and Lucius was obviously satisfied. He looked disgracefully well considering that he'd spent the last five years in Azkaban. Since the prison wasn't guarded by dementors anymore one could obviously get to like that place.

  Five years.

  So long it had taken until all victims had been able to make their declaration. Five years until Lucius had exhausted all legal means. Severus had always thought these infinite lawsuits were a problem of the Muggle world but no. The magical jurisdiction was fit for it as well if you had enough money. Now, however, Lucius had apparently depleted his fortune for good.

  Severus spotted Narcissa in the first row. Her blonde hair caught his eye in this gloomy room just as much as Lucius's. He could only see the back of her head but Lucius did not seem to be pleased with her. He scrunched his nose and averted his gaze.

  The man who had commanded his three months long torture was sitting upright on the dock. His hair was a bit messy but all in all, he was looking good. Much too good as far as Severus was concerned. His grey eyes roved across the crowd of witches and wizards who wanted to see the end of this suit. And at Severus, he stopped. First, his eyes widened a bit, then he grinned maliciously. 

  Severus gulped and raised his chin. Without really noticing he began twisting the ring on his left hand.

  No, he had not proposed to Hermione. He would have never done that. Part of him had still been convinced that one day she would realise her mistake and leave. He had not wanted to tie her closer to him than strictly necessary. No, Hermione had asked him. And that part of him hadn't had a problem with that.

  He'd got used to the ring at this point and he'd come to genuinely believe that Hermione would stay. And it was said ring that he was now twisting on his finger. He often did it when he didn't know what to do with his hands. The ring connected him with Hermione and gave him strength. Enough strength to hold Lucius's gaze. Probably Narcissa had done the same since Lucius was equally as unhappy with their eye contact when he looked away, turning up his nose at Severus.

  But the longer Severus was sitting in this courtroom, watching Lucius, the calmer he got. Lucius was unarmed. Lucius was tied. He couldn't even stand up on his own as Severus noticed when the members of the wizengamot entered the courtroom and the speaker asked them to stand up for the proclamation of sentence. One of the Aurors standing behind Lucius had to lift a spell so he was able to oblige.

  And Severus was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed the verdict. “… we find the accused guilty on all accounts. He will be sentenced with the dementor's kiss.” Severus raised his eyebrows. As wards, they had been dismissed but apparently, the magical world couldn't let the dementors go completely.

  Lucius's face was draining from all colour when he listened to his sentence.

  And the spectators in the hall? They burst into applause.

  For the first time, Severus took his eyes from Lucius and looked around the courtroom. Only then he did notice that most of the attendants apparently weren't random onlookers but victims and relatives of victims. Just like him. He took a deep breath and felt like he'd held it since he'd entered the courtroom.

  Eventually, his eyes halted at the members of the wizengamot sitting in the front of the room clad in their plum-coloured gowns. Without really meaning to he searched for Albus and spotted him in one of the back rows. He was looking at him and inclined his head. They hadn't spoken a single word with each other during the last five years. Hermione had told the Headmaster what had really happened in that house and he had accepted it. But both of them had no urge to stay in contact. Except for fighting the Dark Lord and later Lucius there had been nothing that connected them. For Severus, it had been liberating to let go of Albus.

  And now he was allowed to let go of Lucius as well. The blond man was guided out of the hall through the aisle between the benches and when he passed Severus's spot he stopped and said, “Severus! You here?”

  Severus caught the eye of the Auror urging Lucius to go on and nodded. “Obviously,” he then snarled.

  Lucius regarded him in disdain. “I've heard you not only found yourself a new Mudblood, you even married it.”

  The murmur that had arisen after the proclamation of sentence and because of the delay got louder. Only in their direct vicinity the people were quiet and listened. Severus would have thought that all of the people standing behind him would have bothered him. But no. On the contrary. They backed him up, he wasn't standing alone in front of this man. He pulled his shoulders back and straightened his posture.

  “I did not find her, Lucius. She found me and she freed me in more than one respect. Especially from you.”

  Lucius twisted his face as if he'd smelled something abominable. “You disgust me,” he hissed.

  And Severus smiled before the Aurors pushed Lucius further down the aisle.

  “How did it go?” Hermione asked when he returned home later that day and sat down next to her on the couch. A book was resting on her swollen belly and she put a finger between the pages before she shut it.

  “Good,” Severus replied. “Where is Eric?”

  “Down at the landing pier, watching the boats with my parents.” She rolled her eyes but she smiled. “Is that all you will say about it? Only good?”

  Severus looked at her, putting a hand on her massive bump. Yes, this pregnancy had been planned even though he still didn't quite fathom how she'd convinced him. But Eric had turned out … pretty well, he would argue. Both of them together with the help of his Gran apparently were a reasonable environment for a child. He honestly hoped they would be for two children as well.

  “Severus?” She tilted her head and regarded him, her brows furrowed.

  He smiled. “You were right. It was important for me to go.” And then he kissed her and his body still found that extraordinary and wonderful enough to fire a tingling spurt of adrenaline.