She'd found a way.

Maybe.

Wouldn't it just throw Sirius into a tizzy if he knew that anything he did might help her talk to Severus Snape when they left on their task?

Hopefully, he wouldn't haunt her in her dreams or anything. He hadn't yet and she liked to think if he was a ghost somewhere he had better things to focus on from the veil than what she was doing. She'd come up with the idea when she realized Harry had left things with her not wanting to risk forgetting to bring them along. He trusted she'd keep track of things better than he would.

Sometimes it paid to be known for being an overly prepared swot.

She paced near the entrance along the hall.

I want to see student Severus Snape.

I need to see student Severus Snape.

Please let me see student Severus Snape.

She hoped that would work.

She doubted very likely that the Room of Requirement would be able to produce Professor Severus Snape at this moment in time. If it could, even if she was right about him, she doubted now would be a good time to surprise him. She certainly hoped that the adult version of Severus Snape was alive and well, and that she was right about him so that he'd show up on Saturday.

Would he show up on Saturday?

Would he be repulsed at the idea he'd snogged a student? Never mind snogged one. He'd given her a hickey. And had seemed rather proud of that fact. Who knew Severus Snape liked love bites?

Would the idea of the student being her be the offensive part to him over the fact she was a student?

She just didn't know. She'd needed to do it, though, not knowing if she'd see that Severus Snape again. A Severus Snape who was not just being nice to her but was attracted to her.

The door appeared and she went in and her heart stopped beating for a second or two at the sight of him.

This was no longer fifth year Severus Snape. This Severus was older. It wasn't current Severus or one she'd known personally, but definitely no longer a fifth year. Still a student, though she guessed by the way he was dressed. Looking closer he didn't look that much older than their last visit, certainly not in his twenties yet.

And she had specified student Severus. The Room seemed to want them to communicate so she had to assume it would grant her this, too.

So student Severus, but not fifth year.

Seventh year probably she surmised somehow. There wouldn't be this much of a difference between fifth and sixth years she didn't think. She was basing this on her observations of Ron, Harry, Neville, and other wizards she was in school with currently.

Well, had been in school with. She wasn't going to be a current student anymore after this summer. She wasn't even sure she'd get a seventh year. She wasn't sure she'd be alive to try!

Stop thinking like that!

That wasn't what she was here for tonight.

She couldn't help but stare. Their two times in the Room together she'd been there first. There was no way in her time she'd get the chance to look at him like this.

Gone was the somewhat … shy seeming wizard. A little more confidence in the way he carried himself just from this brief view. He'd filled out some, in height most noticeably. He was still thin, not unhealthily so just wirey in appearance.

She knew others didn't like his appearance, she heard what students (and some staff) said about him behind his back. As he said in their Room visits, though, she was an odd witch it seemed. She did like his appearance. There was something about him that was attractive to her. He certainly was nothing like Ron.

When she first realized that she had a crush on Severus Snape she'd thought she was having a dream or something. There was no way.

And yet, the more she'd come to terms with the fact she had a crush on the man it seemed to make sense as she discreetly watched and listened to him in classes and what conversations she could catch in the great hall. He was clever, witty, and smart. He was brave, and she truly thought he was loyal to the Order.

"Hello Severus," she said.

"Hermione," he said simply. "I was beginning to think that you would not return. I know that you told me you might not."

"I found something, a way that maybe we can talk while I'm gone."

He turned to face her then and her gaze dropped to his hands, his arms. His left arm.

Did he have his Dark Mark yet? As much as she wanted to beg and plead with him not to take the Mark she knew she couldn't do that. Especially if what she believed to be true was right. If he was truly a spy working for the Order now, telling him not to take the Mark could ruin and change literally everything.

And then where would they be?

"You haven't changed," he said with a slight frown.

"It's only been a day for me. Well, two I guess, it was early on the 2nd when I saw you last."

"I see." He nodded as if recalling that she'd said it was early morning on their last visit.

"And you?"

"Finishing my seventh year."

So she'd guessed correctly.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why the Room wouldn't let you find me between then and now."

Presumptuous of her to assume he'd tried, that he'd come to the Room looking for her. She saw by the look in his eyes that he had. Add to that his statement about thinking she wasn't coming back.

She had her suspicions as to why it hadn't cooperated.

If they'd gotten too close it could alter things that weren't meant to be changed. Their snogging and almost shagging probably hadn't been anticipated by whatever was at work here. And she had no doubt something was at work.

Hogwarts had done this.

For them.

It wanted them to talk.

It still threw her for a loop at times six years into this that she was part of a world where even just thinking this sentence didn't mean she should be at a sanitarium for the insane.

She just hadn't figured out why it wanted them to talk yet. She'd been a bit preoccupied the past couple of days. She wondered if he knew. His older self, not this one. He would have had twenty years to try to discover why it was doing this. And she had no doubt that he would look into why it was letting them if he had the time.

If he got too attached to her with regular visits it could have altered his path. A path he was seemingly meant to walk.

Alone.

She hated that thought most of all. Him doing it alone. People hating him. People saying hateful, hurtful things within earshot of him. All for doing what Headmaster Dumbledore asked of him.

Assuming she was right, of course. She felt confident that she was.

She reached into her beaded bag, summoning the piece of mirror.

"This is for you. I have no idea if it will work across time, likely it won't. So, I'm not counting on being able to communicate with you again until you've reached my time. It was all that I could come up with in two days in between everything else I've been researching. I'll be leaving Hogwarts tomorrow and as I said, I'm not sure when I'll be back."

Truthfully, sadly, she wasn't sure if she would be back. Ever, and that broke a piece of her (something deeper, more base than just her heart) that she hadn't known even existed until coming here. He'd figure that out eventually, too.

He took the mirror, but didn't seem all that interested in it. This Severus was probably more able to hide his emotions and keep them in check. He'd had two more years to develop that shell that would keep him safe. Was he shielding his thoughts already? If he didn't have the Dark Mark already, he was very close to getting it. He was certainly already immersed in Death Eater activities.

Should she be worried that he didn't say something along the lines of "I can't wait to see if it works"?

"If you call my name I should appear to you."

"And you? Will you call my name?"

"I will not, Severus."

He scoffed. She knew how it sounded. She was aware. It broke a piece of her that he'd think she didn't want to communicate with him. That this was some sort of joke or didn't mean anything to her.

"Not for the reasons you presume. Please trust me. I know you're going to say that you have no reason to as you really don't know me at all and I've told you very little about myself. I can't, and you know that. You know why I can't. I know you do. You found my book, which I suspect the Room allowed you to find so you'd know why I might be secretive. If you meet me on Saturday, I will explain why I won't call you. By that point, I believe that you will understand why I will not. I will not be responsible for harm coming to you."

He scoffed again at that but looked closer at the mirror, brushing his thumb over the reflective side.

"It may not work while you're in the past. I have no way of testing that, but it should when you're in my current time. You'll know my full name at that point. I've given you enough clues that you'll know when you're in my current time. If you want to, that is. I don't have the pieces until now, well recently when Harry gave them to me, so you couldn't inadvertently call to me before I was … ready."

Ready as in a second year Hermione Granger being essentially paged magically by her potions professor. That would be … unsettling.

He smirked a little then. "You're cute when you doubt yourself, Hermione."

"If only you knew."

His eyes fell to her chest and the scar there.

She tried not to think it could cost her him. She was getting way ahead of herself! There was absolutely nothing saying that Severus Snape was going to remember these not even a handful of conversations almost twenty years from now. She really hoped that he might, though.

She didn't think he'd be that shallow, especially with the treatment he received growing up and even today. Well, her today. 1997. There was a double standard, though, it seemed for witches she was noticing when it came to things like scars. It was okay for men to have them, but women were expected to be unblemished.

She hadn't been in the muggle world enough these days to say it wasn't there, too, but the wizarding world seemed very old-fashioned about certain things.

He stepped closer, wondering no doubt what had happened to her that the scar was so bad. At least he seemed to be attracted to her despite it. She liked to think that she wasn't vain enough to care about scars and things, but her mum and her grandmums had never read fairy tales to her about scarred princesses getting the prince. She didn't believe in fairy tales any longer, but she knew the scar was hideous. This wizard had helped heal her and she knew with as hideous as it was his efforts made it better than it would have been.

"How old is it?" he asked, a finger tracing along the top of the scar.

She gasped softly at the contact. She knew he wasn't trying to be suggestive, but his fingers and hands were so graceful it was hard to take any touch and not make it suggestive.

How did he expect her to think coherently when he was touching her like that? Okay, it was more curious and scientific in nature than suggestive. He was still touching her, though. And the look in his eyes at the skin to skin contact told her it wasn't purely academic.

She liked that look there. A lot.

What was more, she really wanted him to touch more of the scar.

All of it.

She could picture it, too. His fingers grazing along her skin, caressing the edges of the scar. His mouth maybe … She sighed softly at the very idea of it.

She shook her head. She was distracting herself. His smirk told her he might have been thinking similar thoughts and knew that she was as well.

Oh, right, he'd asked a question.

"Mm, a year?"

"And it still looks like that?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I told you I know that it's hideous. I'd be dead if I hadn't been able to cast a silencing charm on Dolohov before he cast the curse. Non-verbal as a result, his was I mean, so I have no idea what it was. So they were unable to reverse it. I haven't been able to find anything by the wand movements, which I may not recall correctly I realize, or the purple flame that shot out of his wand when he cast it at me."

"Mm," he said, eyes meeting hers.

She saw a fleeting look of recognition pass through his eyes. So he knew Dolohov already. That didn't mean he had the Mark yet, but as she thought, he was definitely rubbing elbows with the bad guys by this point.

"I am sorry," he whispered.

"It's not your fault, but thank you."

It was not his fault and without his expertise in not just potions but dark arts it'd look far worse she was sure. His knowledge of both potions and the dark arts was second to none. So even if he hadn't known the curse specifically he clearly had an idea on how to heal it to the extent it was.

Realization dawned on her. He was able to heal it as well as he did because he knew. Maybe he didn't know the exact curse, certainly like Severus had things he created and didn't share Dolohov would too. He knew, though, who had cast it and what she'd just said about it as far as a purple flame. She, of course, didn't know that he knew a year ago, but she did now.

She'd likely saved her own life. And that was further proof he was on their side, wasn't it? He could have very easily let her die that night. No one would have known. She wouldn't have known. She would have been dead. He'd worked hard to ensure she survived to continue aiding the war efforts.

And okay hopefully even then and despite knowing he shouldn't, he liked her. Had feelings for her.

Stop, Hermione.

She was getting way ahead of herself, but it wasn't until this very moment that she realized that these conversations would or could have affected anything. And yet, of course they would have. More than (hopefully) just Severus not seeing her as a pain in his arse in 1991. She also had to hope that whatever was at work here wasn't mad at any of the changes that may have happened.

Obviously, it must not be. It continued to let them find one another. She couldn't think on that now. Yes, it was important, but there was nothing she could do to undo their previous conversations. She had so many other - current - things to focus on.

Back to her scar and his apology. The look in his eye that went beyond merely sympathy or empathy. She didn't want his pity, especially since his life the next twenty years wouldn't be all sunshine, rainbows, and lollipops (regardless of whether her suspicions of her being on their side were correct).

"It's my life."

Admittedly, while she'd been lying in the infirmary she had wanted to throttle Harry for going off to the Ministry half-cocked, without researching, without listening. However, she realized as she spent time alone in her bed with nothing to do but think that if it had been her and she thought Harry or Ron were in peril she likely would have done the same thing.

Never mind her parents. This summer, she was going to do something to ensure her parents' were not in peril. She would not lose them. Not to death anyway.

"It seems as if you live a dangerous life."

She laughed at that. A full-on, hearty laugh. The irony of him saying that to her.

Oh Severus.

"That was funny?"

"Again, you'll understand. One day." He would probably start to understand pretty soon here if her thoughts were correct. Well, pretty soon being the next few years. She knew he was acting as a spy at the time Voldemort died Halloween 1981.

"I'll say it again, you are an odd witch, Hermione. I suppose I can't get your last name either?"

"Mm, no, you'll know it one day," she said, knowing it was a cheeky answer.

She was still wondering if he was going to hate her in the future for snogging him. She tried to pull her hair away from being wrapped around his wrist and finger, but it wouldn't budge at first. Finally, it did and she shook her head. She'd never experienced anything like its reaction to him before. It was odd, and a little off putting. Her hair had always seemed to have a "mind of its own", but now she was starting to wonder if it truly did!

What did it mean?

He pocketed the mirror she'd given him, reaching for her cheek to cup it. He slid his fingers through her hair. She had to admit whatever the reason, she loved how her hair seemed to react to him. It didn't with anyone else. Not as it did with him anyway. Almost as if it liked him, too.

He drew her to him for a kiss. She was pleased to feel that he wasn't really any better at this than he had been the last time they'd kissed. It wasn't long for her, but it had been a couple of years for him and for some reason she felt immensely possessive over this wizard despite the fact if he showed up Saturday it would be nineteen years for him.

She parted her lips almost at the same time he did and she welcomed him into her mouth, gripping the front of his shirt to tug him even closer against her. She mewled, hating that she did something so common but he felt and tasted so good.

And God, his scent, too, was in there.

So good.

Never until his potions classes did she realize how … influential, potent, and heady scent could be.

They moved, him forward and her backward until her back met the wall. His fingers, fingers she'd admired so many times in Potions and last year in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was always so graceful, though he'd probably be insulted to hear her describe him in that way. They pulled on the hem of her tank top, drawing it up and over her head, dropping it on the floor beside them at their feet.

Yes, yes.

She wanted an out of control Severus Snape so badly. She should have been scared maybe, but she wasn't at all. He wouldn't hurt her. At least this Severus wouldn't. Older Severus, her time's Severus. She still didn't know.

He cupped a breast through her bra and she gasped at the feeling of his thumb stroking her nipple. Viktor had tried to touch her like this, but she'd been fifteen, totally inexperienced (even in her imagination), and really not at all ready for it. Not to mention the distance between them and the fact she suspected she wasn't the first (or last) witch he touched like this put a damper on any desire she may have felt for him. She wasn't a prude, saving herself for marriage, or expecting someone she was with to do that either. She, however, did not like the idea of being a just notch or a fling.

And yet here she was letting her future professor who wouldn't see her for thirteen years and the next time he did she'd be almost twelve and his student, feel her up. That thought cleared her mind. She could not let him do this. She wanted him to, absolutely. She wanted to feel those fingers and hands on every inch of her.

She would not do that to him. It was bad enough they'd kissed. If she let him do more, knowing, he'd certainly hate her later. That seemed something that he would view as dishonourable and she wouldn't do that to him. Or have this, tonight, be the thing that made him hate her later.

(Maybe it already was!)

"Severus," she whispered, nipping his lower lip.

"Hermione," he said, and she noticed that some of the ends of her hair were reacting to his touch the same as the rest of her body was. She could very well see him thinking it was unforgivable. She had the knowledge of who she was, who he was.

He did not. He knew nothing about anything past this moment in time.

Omission or thinking he wouldn't care would not be a valid argument twenty years from now. He'd see her in 1991, knowing when she didn't.

"We shouldn't…"

Her hands slid along the front of his shirt, feeling his pecs defined as they were through the material and the flatness of his abdomen. She found his waist then and had to force herself to move to his arms. He wasn't overly muscular, but she knew he was strong and capable just the same. She had no doubt they would keep her safe if he could do so.

"I know," he murmured, kissing her jaw and nipping at the skin there. A few strands of her hair slid along his wrist as he paused in touching her. "Will I get to do this on Saturday?"

She smiled with a soft sigh that sounded like a laugh, tipping her head back as he kissed her throat. He still hadn't moved his hand and she did not want him to. Not really. She just knew it wasn't right.

Would he forgive her allowing even this much to happen? She hoped so.

"If you want to."

"You think that I wouldn't?"

"I think there's a very strong possibility that you won't, yes."

"You are crazy on top of being odd, Witch."

"So you say," she murmured.

His hand slid over her abdomen to her waist, her hair released him the lower he went. He drew her closer against him. Oh god. Did he know how tempting he was? How much she wanted to say fuck it?

"God, you are so fucking hot."

"So are you," she whispered.

He scoffed.

"Blind and odd."

"Don't say that."

"I'd love to take you right here and now, Hermione."

"Me, too, I really do want you to, but you can't. We can't. I'd never forgive myself, Severus. I suspect you wouldn't forgive me either and I'd hate myself for that. If our doing this altered something later that could have been because of what I know." She groaned as his teeth nipped at her skin along her collarbone. "Please," she whispered.

"Please?"

"Please understand."

He sighed heavily. "I do," he replied. "I'd very much like you to be my first, though."

"Me, too," she whispered. Nineteen years. Witches who would throw themselves at such a powerful wizard. She hated that idea. Hated it. "So much."

If he showed Saturday he would be her first if things continued from here between them. She knew the odds of being his first anything nineteen years from his point in time was vastly improbable. It was fun to dream, though.

She drew his left hand from her hip and brought it to her mouth, kissing each fingertip. He groaned, brushing his waist against hers. She opened her eyes, glancing at his hand and arm before meeting his eyes.

"Saturday," she whispered. "And don't lose the mirror."

"Can you give me a hint as to how long I need to keep carrying it around for?"

"No."

He sighed, sliding his hand out of her grasp.

"Impertinent witch."

"That's me."

She kissed him again. "Has it really been two years?"

"It has."

"Sitting your NEWTs?"

"I am getting ready to, yes," he said. "Will you? Next year, right? If you've just finished your sixth year."

She sighed. "I can't answer that," she murmured.

She wanted to answer his question. To tell him the truth, but she couldn't. She couldn't tell him anything. It was too risky. She didn't know for sure that he was on their side. She had no real proof that he hadn't betrayed the headmaster. Trusting her instincts to meet him Saturday was entirely different than telling him about the horcruxes.

She couldn't tell him, of course, that she likely wasn't going to be there for her seventh year so it was a very real possibility that she wouldn't be able to sit her NEWTs. Never mind if they went searching for these horcruxes and didn't change anything. Well, Harry could be dead. Well, Harry's death wouldn't necessarily affect her ability to sit her NEWTs.

She could be dead.

Worse, this world she had quickly grown to love despite the chaos could be ruled by a sociopath and she could spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder simply because her parents were muggles.

Voldemort winning would certainly put a crimp in whether she could sit her NEWTs.

She hoped whatever happened that she'd be allowed to sit them whenever they finished their hunt. She had no idea how long it would even take them to find them. Certainly she could get some sort of special circumstances by Beauxbatons to sit them there if Voldemort won.

And that was, of course, assuming they were alive at the end of it anyway. That they made it through this with their lives intact. She wasn't entirely sure that would be the case. She hoped so. She wanted to sit them! She knew Ron would think she was crazy to even be thinking about NEWTs with everything else going on. Harry, too, but he had a bit more of an understanding of Hermione and what drove her than Ron did.

She had worked too hard the past six years to just forget about them. She'd come too far.

"You have no idea what these conversations have meant to me, Hermione. There may not have been many in number, but they were significant. You helped a lonely wizard who thought no one could ever care for or accept him realize that someone could."

She felt herself get emotional hearing him say that. She reached, touching his face, grazing his jaw with her thumb.

"I care, others care, you just have to not be so scared to let others in."

"Impossible. I trust no one. Well, except you it seems."

"I know, and you wouldn't be you otherwise. I'd like to tell you that you trust me now. My now, but I don't know that you do. I hope that you do. I guess I'll see on Saturday. Please be careful, Severus."

He let his forehead rest against hers and breathed deeply, a puff of breath warm against her cheek. She sensed his mood and brushed her cheek against his. Her hair was both calm and flustered as it seemed to brush against his cheek, too. "I will be. For you."

She smiled at that, reaching up to kiss him. She slid an arm around his neck as she did.

"I don't expect you to do anything for me, Severus, I just want you to be careful. Things are not going to be fun or easy. Just know one day I will be here. Like this. Willing to be here with you. Wanting you. Like this. You're going to think that maybe there is no one, but there is."

"I will remember."

She drew her hand from around him and stepped away a bit. She had to or she'd never want to leave!

"Can you do one favour for me, please?"

"Anything."

"Oh my," she said. "Be careful who you say that to."

She handed him an envelope and leaned toward him, whispering in his ear.

"You can read that only after you leave Hogwarts property, even the Express. Please trust me and do what it says, burn it afterward but don't forget. You will thank me, I promise, especially if what I believe to be true is."

He quirked a brow at her, obviously curious but nodded and slid the envelope into the pocket of his robe with the mirror she gave him earlier.

"Thank you."

She grazed his jaw with the tip of her tongue and teeth and drew away. She liked the taste of him, the feel of his skin with just a hint of stubble on it against her mouth and tongue. She'd never really paid attention to her time's Severus' shaving habits. And that was not going to get her to leave! She had to leave! He wasn't going to leave first because he didn't know what she knew. It was up to her to be the adult in this scenario.

"Oh!"

He'd told her that two years had gone by and she hadn't even thought to ask. It didn't seem to be forefront in his mind either, but it had only been a couple of days for her. (Hopefully when he got to this point in time he'd understand she truly was a bit distracted.)

He looked at her curiously, a bit of a smirk there. He no doubt thought she was trying to put off leaving. She didn't want to leave, but knew she had to.

"Did you find a place for your mother?"

Her question surprised him. She could tell. Not many surprised him so she was pleased to be among that small group who could do that. He probably had a hard time grasping that she truly did care, too.

"I did, actually. A cousin. The child of my maternal uncle and his wife. She studied to be a healer but left her position to raise her children."

"That's wonderful! I'm so glad. Is she doing any better?"

"Somewhat. She has lucid days and some not so lucid. The lucid ones are starting to exceed the not so lucid ones more commonly."

"You haven't told anyone about her, have you? Where she is?"

"No, as far as anyone knows she's still at our home in Cokeworth. My father wouldn't bother to report her missing or anything. Well not to the magical authorities anyway. As far as I'm aware he has not to the muggle ones either. Her side of their marital bed likely hasn't gone empty for too many nights either."

Oh. She had no idea what to say to that . Did he say those things to others? She didn't think so, otherwise information on him and his family would have been much easier to find than it had been.

"Um," she said, struggling to come up with something. "Good that no one knows, keep it that way, Severus. You care for her, please don't let her be a weak spot for you."

"What do you know, Hermione?" he asked, clutching her shoulders with his hands.

His eyes had gone from almost sweet, caring to hard in a matter of seconds. Here was a hint of the Severus Snape that she knew in her time. Not quite as effective at being scary, but definitely a good start to becoming the man who stalked the dungeons, seemed to be familiar with every alcove and hidey hole a student (or a couple) could find, and deducted house points for fun.

Of course it helped by now that she'd faced what she had already. This Severus Snape didn't scare her, though she could definitely see where some might be frightened. He'd known little kindness from what she surmised and so lashed out with bitterness and insults in defense. If he was unkind first no one could get close enough again to hurt him.

"I can't! I probably shouldn't have even said that, but I know if you worked to get her free of your father's influences and braved talking to the Prince side of your family. Well, there are people who would view that as a vulnerability, a weak spot. Don't let them. And I mean anyone, Severus. I don't have all the facts, I only have suspicions and hunches. I don't care who they are to you, just please don't tell anyone about her. I really would love to meet her one day."

He was silent, staring at her. As tempting as it was, because he was very good at "the stare" even now, though it probably didn't have the desired effect on her here and now as it had a year ago in his classroom. She did not look away, though. He did not like her answer, she could tell. He seemed to know that he couldn't push her on this, though, and she was relieved he understood what they were dealing with. There was too much at risk for her to say more than she had.

"I hope that you can."

"I hope so, too."

"Is this goodbye then, Hermione?"

"For now. Try the mirror, maybe it will work. I don't know when we're going to start on our task, but I have to go home for a while and take care of some things there. After meeting you Saturday," she said, lips lifting in a smirk.

"Understood. Does Hermione have siblings?"

"Hermione is an only child the same as you, Severus Snape."

"Mm," he said. "One day you'll have to tell me how you know all of these things about me. You know I'm of the Prince family. Do you know my mother's name?"

"Of course, Eileen."

He shook his head. "It appears somewhere along the line I get loose lips."

She giggled at that. The very idea of him being a Chatty Cathy was just so funny. "No," she said. "Trust me it was not easy finding the information I obtained on you."

"That is a relief."

She kissed his jaw again. She had to. One last taste. One last feel of his jaw, the skin and bit of five o'clock shadow there. The scent of him. She loved that while living in the magical world he still chose to shave and let a five o'clock shadow appear. It was so very muggle. "I have to go. I have things I must take care of before leaving tomorrow morning."

"Do something about your impertinence before I see you again, please."

Oh if only he knew!

"I'll get right on that. Do me a favour?"

He looked amused. She couldn't quite blame him. What could he do for her when they weren't even in the same time after all? "I can certainly try."

"The mirror. After the death and before Saturday, don't try to use it."

He watched her closely. She could tell that he was thinking about her request weighing his options on being difficult for the sake of being so or just outright agreeing to what she asked. Ultimately, he nodded. "I can agree to that."

"Thank you. It just wouldn't…"

"Be safe?"

"Yes."

"Something tells me I will want you safe, Witch, so consider it done."

"Thank you," using her hands to pull her hair back, away from them. Him. She had to. It didn't seem to want to let him go either, but she had to leave.

"It's still there," he said, grazing the hickey he'd left her their last time together in the Room.

"Yes," she murmured. She knew she was blushing. "It is. It hasn't been two years for me."

"I like it there," he said.

His eyes … darkened (how was that possible) as he made that statement. She guessed he truly did like it there then. She had to admit she liked it there, too.

"Me, too," she admitted.

Ron had seen it and not been happy.

He'd interrogated her but she hadn't caved. As if he'd believe her. He'd think she was crazy. Incentive to keep her mouth shut on that particular subject. And she couldn't tell him or Harry what she suspected about Severus until Saturday. Of course, he could show up at the church and still be truly a Death Eater and a killer.

She didn't think so, though.

"I displayed mine rather proudly until it disappeared."

"Do I get to leave another one on Saturday?"

"If you insist."

"I think I will." She kissed her fingers and pressed them against his mouth. "I have to go."

He bowed politely, letting her leave before him. She sighed as she stepped into the hall.

"Thank you," she whispered, pressing her hand to the wall. "Please look out for him. He will need someone on his side."

She hated the idea of him being virtually alone for the next nineteen years. He had Headmaster Dumbledore, but she wasn't sure it was enough. She wasn't sure the headmaster truly cared or had his best interests at heart. She got the impression that while he liked Professor Snape he was yet another tool in this war he was fighting.

All well and good in the grand scheme of things. 

He was dead!

Now they were fighting it without him.

And with very little information to go on.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com