Thank you all sooooo much for your continued support! I'm SO SORRY it's been SO LONG! AGAIN! I'M TERRIBLE! Actually, writing lately has not come as easily as it did in the past and I think there are a number of reasons for that. But you guys keep me going with your Reviews and PMs reminding me that I'm not the only one who cares about this story. So THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who Reviewed the last chapter! Mel, DragonIris, Lady Reese Kightkens, Simona Polle, umbrella911, alurek26, LissaDream, Dance1989, MissusGages, Sspulse, lilkitn87, MortalCoils, Karli1252, Smithback, Haveyouseenmyprefectbadge, Shallowdreamer, M, Celestine Manning, Simsalabim88, RhodaBush, Barsey87, Fantomette34, Veronica Mitchell, Whack-the-beetle, pgoodrichboggs, Kate, Elliania, , Calindy, Lucyole, LissaDream (again! 3), BratGirl1983, thepurplewombat, profsir, akire26, Just-Granger-ine, Olo, viola1701e, Aglaonema, megumisakura, BOOdalinski, Pirocantha, catherinahawkins, lornabrownie, VividVideoGeek, ZoeyOlivia, PaolaRavenclaw, LoveInTheBattleField, and several Guests! Y'all really keep me going. Reviews are like candy to me.

This is a relatively short chapter, but there's a lot to it. I want to reiterate that I'm starting to include a bit more Canon, but it's not in Canon order… so they are in their 7th year at Hogwarts in this story. Anyway, without further adieu:

CHAPTER 20!

…*~*J*~*...

He woke in glimpses.

A flash of heat against his skin. The scent of sweat and sex. A pang of regret.

It was dark and the girl was curled up in his arms, her bushy hair a soft tangle beneath his chin, her naked skin sticky against his own.

Oh gods, what have I done?

The girl was gone. His bed was cold. His head was aching so acutely it felt like a sound. She would never forgive him.

He wanted to curl up and die.

It was nausea that rent him from his bed, sending him stumbling toward the bathroom in a jumble of naked limbs.

Penance. This was only the start.

…*~*J*~*...

Hermione kept her eyes downcast as she stirred her breakfast around her plate. Flashes of memory from the night before kept intruding on her mind. His mouth on her ear, hot breath in her hair. His callused fingertips rough against the skin of her breast. The way he had rocked against her.

Reverently.

Then greedily.

It made her face hot to remember; and a now-familiar tightness formed between her legs.

She could still picture him crouched above her, his fist pumping hard, his face twisted in ecstasy. That velvety voice made rough as he groaned like a feral beast, hot seed pouring out across her flesh.

She cringed. Had she ruined everything?

All she had wanted was to push past the awkwardness between them and enjoy whatever tenderness or… pleasure they could find together. Now, though she wanted that more than ever, she could hardly bear to think about their first real time together without hating herself and dreading the next time she had to deal with the man.

But she couldn't put it off forever. She had work to do today and all of her books were back in his rooms.

…*~*J*~*...

Severus panted over the bowl, his grip relaxing momentarily. But his mind seized the opportunity to flicker through his many horrifying memories of the night before.

Gods. He had assaulted her. There was no other way to describe it. He could still remember everything in painstaking detail. After all, his genius potion did nothing to hinder memory.

He could still picture her beneath him, so beautiful, so trusting. He could feel the softness of her skin; remember her tight warmth. So wet. So willing.

Her hair, so soft against his face. Her mouth. He cringed. He had thrust his tongue into her innocent mouth. He had ravaged her. And she hadn't known how to respond.

His body seized over the bowl again as he retched. It was purely acid now, burning his mouth and his nasal cavity as he choked and heaved.

He deserved every ounce of this.

…*~*J*~*...

Tiptoeing through his Potions lab, Hermione silently prayed that he would still be asleep. It was late morning now, but he had stayed in bed longer than this on better days, so there was hope.

She nudged the door to his bedroom open as quietly as she could manage and was immediately greeted by sounds of retching coming from the bathroom. Her anxiety fled in the wake of her concern and she found herself running toward the open door.

"Are you alright?"

He was naked on the bathroom floor, hunched over the bowl, vulgar, grotesque, a study in pain.

"Bloody hell, Granger," he rasped.

She yanked away, leaning against the wall outside the bathroom and squeezing her eyes shut in shame. "Sorry! Can I do anything for you?

"No," he croaked, spitting audibly. And then, "Actually…" he hesitated.

"Yes?"

"Would you… hand me a dressing gown? Just inside the wardrobe."

"Yes."

She retrieved the dressing gown and handed it to him through the door, doing her best to avert her eyes, then withdrew to stand awkwardly in the middle of the bedroom. Should she leave? There was so much she needed to say and he clearly expected to talk to her or he wouldn't be making an effort to cover himself.

When Severus emerged from the bathroom, he looked green and thin, his face sour and sick. There was a dull, dead look in his eyes, which were averted. His head hung low. "I can't… possibly… apologize enough…" he began, but she cut him off.

"Please don't," she said and he looked up at her in surprise. "I knew you were intoxicated. I should have stopped you, but I pushed you to continue. It's my fault."

He stared at her in alarmed surprise for a moment before lowering his gaze again, his brow furrowing. "I was… out of my mind," he told her. "But I remember…" He cringed, shifting uncomfortably at the sudden horrible recollection. "It wouldn't have…" he broke off, swallowing visibly, seeming to reconsider his words. "If I had been… sober… it… would have been…" he paused, shaking his head, more to himself than to her, "different."

Hermione's cheeks flamed, less from his words than from the confession she now knew she had to make. "I… feel guilty," she began, turning her gaze to the floor, "not just because I should have stopped you, but… because… I… enjoyed it."

She met his eyes, watching them go wide a moment before he jerked away, launching himself into the bathroom and retching noisily again.

Hermione darted forward, stopping at the door. "Oh no! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you!" She remembered herself and swung back against the wall outside the bathroom, cringing at the ceiling. "I just… wanted to be honest. You can hate me for it if you want to. I won't blame you. I just hated the way we were… handling this… ridiculous…"

"No...," he said in a reluctant voice, "you were right about that."

Hermione allowed herself to peek around the corner. He had collapsed against the wall opposite the toilet, looking drained.

He sighed. "It was foolish to think that my little cheat would make our… situation any better."

He met her eye and she gave him a small, sympathetic smile.

"I suppose," he continued, glancing away when it was clear she had no response, "I had thought that you… wouldn't want to… be subjected to anything more than what was absolutely necessary."

Hermione was very still. It occurred to her that he was being more open and vulnerable now than he had ever been before. She could feel how tenuous the ground was between them. It would be so easy to muck this all up.

And suddenly the way ahead was so startlingly clear. She felt like a fool. All this time she had wasted trying to make him want her. All those ridiculous tips from that ridiculous magazine. They had all been an act, a ploy, a means of distancing herself from any real vulnerability on her part. And that was what he needed, she realized. How could she expect him to open up to her if she couldn't do it, herself?

Sighing, she stepped into the bathroom and eased herself down onto the floor beside him, leaning her head back against the wall.

"The truth is…" she began, fixing her gaze on the cabinet so as to avoid glancing over at him, "I've always had a great deal of admiration for you. And living with you has only improved my opinion."

He scoffed in disbelief and she hurried to continue before he could interrupt.

"That's not to say that you're a picnic. You can be a real arse sometimes." She flashed him a smirk and noted the hesitant way he was watching her, his eyes narrowed in apparent suspicion. But he didn't interrupt. "But I think we get on pretty well, all things considered. And it's… It's refreshing… having someone to talk to who's interested in… the sorts of things that interest me."

He snorted. "You are interested in all manner of things."

"No. Not everything," she protested softly, "not Quidditch. Not petty gossip."

He had gone very still. "There is a whole world out there, you know. I'm far from the only academic…"

"I know that. And there are others of my acquaintance who fit that description, as well. I'm not writing you a love letter, Severus Snape. I'm only saying… I like you. I enjoy spending time with you. And I don't think it's so wrong for us to… find some joy in the circumstances in which we have happened to find ourselves."

He let out an exaggerated sigh. "I can't see that you are wrong about that."

She studied his profile, her mouth quirking up at the corner. "So… does that mean…"

"Yes, I suppose it does." He gave her a furtive glance. "As long as you still…"

"Yes. Yes, of course."

He nodded, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. "Very well then."

"Good."

"Good."

She hesitated. "And erm… I was also thinking that… we should really move it to Friday nights. We… really cut it close last night and… there's a lot on the line."

His eyes popped open and he stared at the opposite wall in horror for a long moment. "Yes. How dangerously irresponsible of me."

Hermione shrugged. Knowing what they now knew of the contractual magic that the Ministry had used to bind them together in matrimony, it had been a grievous risk indeed to leave so little room for error. But he was giving himself a hard enough time about it without her adding to his guilt, so she dismissed his admission with a murmured "you were out of your mind."

With that, she climbed to her feet and was about to slip out of the room when his hesitant voice made her stop and turn back to look at him. "Granger," he muttered, his own gaze fixed on the tops of his knees. "Living with you has been… more agreeable... than I had imagined it would be."

She smirked down at him, hearing the confession for what it was. After all, that was probably the closest Severus Snape would ever come to admitting that he liked her too.

…*~*J*~*...

Over the next few days, they fell into a new, quiet understanding. They didn't speak much, but the silence between them was easy and even… companionable. Hermione pretended to be afraid of him, when others could see, and he began to greet her with a smile whenever she returned to their rooms.

She was spending more time in Gryffindor Tower now. Harry had insisted that she keep her new dark arts texts there. He didn't trust Snape not to examine them further in an attempt to discover the secrets Dumbledore had entrusted to them.

And the texts, themselves, had finally begun to bear fruit. So far, they had learned that the piece of soul concealed within the horcrux could only be killed if the horcrux itself was destroyed beyond the potential for magical repair. Knowing this, it was hard not to feel overwhelmed by what lay ahead. And yet, at least they were beginning to understand what they were up against.

Wednesday night, Hermione returned to their rooms after several hours brainstorming with the boys to find her husband already preparing for bed. He hadn't slept much all week and still hadn't seemed to have recovered a bit from the damage he'd done to his body Saturday night, so she was relieved when he collapsed into the bed and was promptly snoring. The exhaustion must have finally caught up with him, as he hadn't even bothered to take his Dreamless Sleep.

Hermione stayed up a while longer, working on an essay for Professor Flitwick that she hadn't had time for all week and stroking Crookshanks, who had settled himself happily on her lap. It was well after midnight when she dressed for bed and curled up next to her professor. He looked so peaceful, despite the dark circles under his eyes, and it was all she could do to keep from kissing the bridge of his overlarge nose.

She was just drifting off to sleep, disjointed images of cursed amulets and Slytherin smirks dancing behind her eyes, when the fire roared to life, causing her to flinch awake.

"Severus!" cried the hoarse voice of Albus Dumbledore. "Help! Quick!"

Severus Snape had flinched awake, himself, and was staring down at her in dazed confusion.

"Severus!" Albus cried, his voice strained, "Quick! My office!"

Suddenly her professor was ripping off the covers, snatching his wand off the bedside table and stumbling toward the fireplace. He summoned a dressing gown without saying a word and disappeared, barefoot and bare-chested, through the floo.

…*~*J*~*...

Severus stumbled into Albus's office, throwing a dressing gown around his shoulders as he glanced around the room.

The Headmaster was crumpled on the floor nearby, leaning back against the gnarled wood of his desk. Severus practically threw himself down beside the man.

"What is it, Albus? What's happened?"

"I am afraid I've made a grievous error, old friend," said the wizened man.

Severus's stomach dropped. It must be grave indeed for Albus to speak to him in such a way. "What happened?" he snapped again, his patience running thin.

"My hand," said the old man, revealing the appendage, which he had been clutching tenderly.

Severus recoiled in horror, cursing at the shock of seeing the other man's flesh in such a state of rapid decay. "What did you do?" He growled, casting a series of diagnostic spells, his eyes growing wide as the black rot visibly spread down the other man's wrist. He knew a scant few spells that might slow the progress of the nasty curse, but he'd never seen anything like it before.

"I'm afraid I may have come into contact with a bit of dark magic," said Albus, smiling as if there were any humor to be found here.

Severus glared at him, his eyes barely flickering away from his work for a second. "You don't say." He finished one enchantment and cast another diagnostic spell, cursing when he saw how little his work had done.

"It was a cursed object," Albus continued as Severus murmured another incantation over his hand. "I should have known better than to touch it."

Severus cursed. "What the bloody hell could have possessed you…" he snarled, but Dumbledore cut him off.

"It was an error in judgment, Severus. You must allow this old man the occasional foolish mistake."

"This mistake may well have cost you your life."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment. "Can you stop it, Severus?"

The Slytherin met his employer's eye, hesitating long enough to convey his regret. "For now, I can only slow it down. But I will do some research. There may yet be a cure, but for the moment…"

"How long, Severus?" The old man's voice was weak and sad. Severus wished he would stop using his name, stop making it sound like a plea and at the same time a sentimental caress. "How long do I have?"

Severus didn't want to answer, didn't want to think that this was really happening, right before his eyes. "It's difficult to say. We'll monitor its progression, but for now, I think… months? Perhaps."

Albus closed his eyes, leaning back against the desk. When he opened them, there was a twinkle shining through the deep sadness that had been there moments before. "Thank you, Severus. You have been a great help. I think I can manage from here."

Severus glared at the older man as he helped him to his feet and into the chair behind his ancient desk. "I will do what I can to research this curse, Albus, but I make no promises."

"Of course not," said Albus, suddenly sounding as old as he actually was, "no one is asking you to."

"You need rest, old man. Let me help you to your bed."

"No, no. I have work yet to finish tonight. I will manage, when the time comes."

"But…"

"No 'but's, Severus. Go on. You have been most helpful, this evening."

Severus's shoulders drooped, but he nodded, turning back toward the fireplace. "Goodnight Albus."

"Goodnight Severus."

He reached for the floo powder and was just about to throw down a pinch of the stuff when Albus's voice piped up again.

"And Severus," he said, causing the other man to turn back around. His eyes were twinkling and there was a faint smile on his exhausted face. "I quite like your new pajamas."

…*~*J*~*...

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