Disclaimer: See Prologue.

A/N: Thank you to my wonderful Beta, Toblass, for her hard work and encouragement, without which this chapter would not be what it is. Any remaining mistakes are purely my own.

Enjoy!

I've made my mistakes,

I've seen my heart cave in

I got my scars,

I've been to Hell and back again...

Born for the blue skies,

We'll survive the rain,

Born for the sunrise,

We'll survive the pain…

~ Switchfoot, "Dark Horses"

Deep within the Ministry of Magic, in the Auror Department, Harry Potter sat in the small office he shared with his field partner, Ron Weasley. His eyes were thoughtful behind his glasses as he watched the small ball of parchment that hovered just above his desk. It burned silently, the blackening edges curling slowly inwards, filling the small workspace with the sharp smell of woodsmoke and herbs. As he watched the smoldering remains of Hermione's letter drift slowly to the desktop, his scarred brow furrowed in thought.

The Boy Who Lived knew without a doubt that he now owed Hermione a Very Big Favor. Severus Snape had agreed to provide assistance on a mission that could take months, or, God forbid, years. Harry snorted; as if he didn't owe Hermione enough already. He was old enough now to realize that he had been a complete and utter arse over the past two years, and that he deserved whatever punishment Snape and Hermione decided to unleash upon him.

It really had been foolish, he realized in hindsight, walking into their lab unannounced – he should have at least knocked – but in a way it had been cathartic, letting the old git have a go at him. It cleared some of the muck from Harry's conscience; not completely, mind, but it was a start. He rubbed unconsciously at his neck, still unable to shake that thought of how lucky he was that Snape hadn't killed him. Funny that…

Come to think of it, the whole situation – Hermione and Snape – was funny. Not in a 'ha-ha' sort of way, but in a 'What the hell is going on there?' way. Obviously they had been… together before – Harry cringed at the thought – but what were they to each other now? He had heard through certain channels that they had separated at the beginning of the year, but from what he could tell – as his Auror training had included extensive classes on 'reading' body language – they were on slightly more familiar terms than simply master and apprentice. Had they mended things? Were they back to shagging again?

As an image that he did not want to think about flashed across his mind, Harry shook his head and sighed harshly. It didn't matter; Hermione was her own woman… she always had been. She could be fucking Snape's brains out on the Head Table every night before dinner for all Harry cared. As long as she was happy it was none of his business. Besides, he doubted he had the right to make it his business even if the greasy git was stupid enough to hurt her.

Again… Harry thought angrily. One thing was for certain, Harry wouldn't allow himself to make that same mistake twice.

However, the time for reconciling would come later. Putting his relationship – or lack thereof – with Hermione on the backburner, he turned to the matter at hand. The fact that Snape was actually going to assist on this… hunt, for lack of a better word, meant that things must be far more serious than Dumbledore had let on. As much as he hated to admit it, the thought filled the young Auror's stomach with a cold knot of dread.

Harry sighed heavily. Now that things were progressing, he had to talk to Kingsley, and then he would have to find Ron and let him know what was going on as well. He snorted; that was going to be an interesting discussion. With a determined nod, Harry rose from his desk, vanished the remains of Hermione's letter with a flick of his wand, and strode from his office.

He had work to do.

The next evening, Severus sat reclined in one of the armchairs by the fire in the Headmaster's office, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His hands rested on his stomach, his eyes were closed, and his head sagged bonelessly against the low back of the chair. The furrow in his brow, however, bespoke of a tension that was held neatly in check.

Hermione stood behind him, combing her fingers gently through his dark hair, trying her best to calm him while they waited on the other members of their party to arrive. She knew that Severus was allowing the small intimacy only because they were alone at the moment, and she was taking full advantage of the opportunity.

"I could do this all day," she commented softly as the dark locks slid through her nimble fingers.

He answered her with a dark, rich chuckle. "I can think of one or two other things you could do all day…" he said, tipping his head back.

"Wicked man…" she laughed before leaning down and giving him a soft, slow kiss.

He returned it with fervor, bringing a hand up to twine in her unruly hair, and she was instantly lost in the warmth of his lips, and the insistent flick of his tongue against hers. Uninhibited desire threatened to overwhelm her, and she fought against the base instincts telling her to simply have him then and there, public decorum and the headmaster's upholstery be damned.

She tamped the feelings down for the time being, and she and Severus spent several quiet minutes simply reveling in the feel of their mouths moving together, before the grinding of the spiral staircase broke apart the moment.

They pulled apart reluctantly. "Game on, love," Hermione whispered, smoothing Severus' hair out of his face before moving off to stoke the fire.

He acknowledged her with a soft grunt and a knowing look before sitting up and straightening his robes. He then assumed an easy yet professional posture: legs crossed ankle over knee, fingers steepled, back straight, head up.

Hermione smiled despondently as she watched Severus draw the façade back around himself. Anyone that walked into the room now would see only the dour, scowling Potions master and his brilliant, dutiful apprentice, both patiently awaiting the Headmaster and his guests.

When they had finally discussed things between them properly a few weeks ago, the two of them had chosen not to broadcast their newly rekindled relationship to anyone just yet, with the Headmaster being number one on the Do Not Tell list. Admittedly, Hermione had been a bit confused when Severus had been so adamant on that point, but when she questioned him he had simply asked her to trust him, promising that he would explain everything soon.

So she had dropped the subject for the time being; she knew that Severus loved her and wasn't ashamed of being with her, so he must have a valid reason for keeping things low on the radar at the moment. She had mentioned the fact that Harry might have an idea of the true nature of things, what with Severus' display earlier in the week, but Severus didn't seem too worried, so Hermione wasn't going to lose any sleep over it.

Sadly, worrying about who knew about their relationship and who didn't wasn't high on their current list of priorities. First things first – they had to help the boys find these things, these… horcruxes that the Headmaster was after.

The thought that Harry and Ron would be there in a few moments set butterflies rolling in Hermione's stomach. She hadn't really seen either of them – her last encounter with Harry notwithstanding – since the day she had told them of her pregnancy, almost two years ago now. She snorted and flicked her wand angrily at the fire, stirring the flames violently, which earned her a concerned glance from Severus. She didn't notice, however, lost as she was in the ghosts of her past. The words she had traded with her two childhood friends — Ron mostly — that day still held a bitter place in her memories.

Harry had been too stunned to be angry; Ron, however… Ron had been angry enough for both of the young men. In truth, she had expected him to be angry – he had never held any great love for Severus, especially after Hermione took up as his apprentice – but nothing could have prepared her for the vitriol that he had thrown at her that day.

His face had turned the color of the Gryffindor House banner, and if she hadn't known him better, she would have sworn that he had wanted to strike her. More the fool him if he had; Severus would have killed him. As it was, he had called her a whore and a traitor; he had called her child a bastard and had literally spat at her before abruptly disapparating.

From what she had found out later, Ron had apparently been under the delusion that she still wanted to be with him, which was entirely untrue and ridiculous in the extreme, especially considering how they had parted ways.

First and foremost, they had never officially dated, meaning – most importantly – that he had never asked her to be his girl. They had managed a few heated snogging sessions throughout the year, and several awkward, heavy-handed attempts at mutual pleasure that had ended in less than satisfactory results, at least on her part. Ron seemed to be of the mind that if he had found release — however quickly — then surely she had as well.

Apparently, he hadn't been familiar with what the Muggles say about assuming…

They had gotten very close to actual sex once, so close in fact that Hermione wondered later why she hadn't simply gone through with it.

At least it would have shut him up.

It had happened during their seventh year. They had all been staying at the Burrow over Easter holidays, and that evening there had been a party to celebrate the occasion. Somehow, Ron had managed to find his way into a bit of Firewhiskey – Hermione suspected Fred and George, but could never prove it – and had succeeded in drinking himself silly.

Things had gotten a bit out of hand when the twins' jibes about his manhood had apparently prompted Ron to prove them wrong, and to the utter humiliation of his mother he had dropped his trousers in the sitting room, ordering them all to 'Check out the goods' if they had any doubt about things.

Mrs. Weasley had promptly sent him off to bed, her face flushed with both fury and embarrassment. "Boys will be boys," she told Hermione, attempting to make light of the situation as she watched her youngest son stumble up the stairs. Hermione simply nodded and went back to the party, trusting that knew what she was doing.

Later that night, after everyone was in bed, Ron had snuck into the room she was sharing with Ginny, after the younger witch had already crept off to see Harry, and Hermione had welcomed him. She hoped this would give them the opportunity to discuss some things that had been bothering her lately. Ron, however, had no intentions of talking.

He immediately climbed beneath the covers with her, finding her mouth in the darkness and kissing her clumsily. Hermione didn't mind too much; she'd had a bit of butterbeer, and while she was in no way, shape or form inebriated, it had made her feel a bit more relaxed than usual. So, she let him continue, breaking the kiss and tilting her head back to give access to her neck. He obliged her, and his hands moved to roam over her chest, working the buttons of her nightgown. She let him continue, and eventually he managed to coerce her out of all her clothes.

His mouth on her breasts had felt nice – when he wasn't using his teeth — and she had smiled at the moan she had drawn from him when she raked her nails over his back. She could feel his raging erection pressing against the outside of her thigh, hard and insistent through his cotton pajama pants, but had made no move to touch it. After a few more minutes, he had started grinding it against her hip, muttering things like "'Mione… so good. So fucking good…" and while she knew she should have felt something… a growing sense of trepidation certainly wasn't it.

But she had let him continue on, being a practical girl, in hopes that the right feeling – whatever it was – would come to her eventually. Soon, his hand had moved down her stomach to rest at the apex of her thighs, and she parted her legs for him willingly, hoping that this time he would get it right. He had rubbed his large, meaty fingers against her for a few minutes, and while it hadn't felt bad exactly, it hadn't felt any better than the last time either. She was about to speak up and tell him where her clit was actually located when things had taken on an entirely new edge.

In the span of a second, he had moved his entire body between her legs. At the sudden and inexplicably foreign sensation of his naked cock – Where had his pajamas gone? – pressing against her sex, her legs had snapped together of their own accord. She knew instantly that this was not what she had signed on for. "Ron…" she said, putting her hands on his bare, flushed chest to push him away as she quickly sat up. "Ron, no."

He looked up at her then — his lips wet with saliva, pupils dilated with lust, his insistent cock bumping heavily against her shins — and gave her a questioning look. "'Mione?"

"I… I don't think we should," she had stammered, pulling the sheet up to cover herself. She didn't want to make him angry, but she also knew that she most definitely did not want to Do This.

Of course, he had been angry. "Why the bloody hell not? You've only been teasing me for the last—" He glanced at the clock next to the bed. "—twenty minutes. What'd you expect me to think?"

"I'm sorry! I just don't feel comfortable…"

He didn't let her finish, and rose sharply from her bed, pulling his pants back on in the process. "Yeah, well… that's not the only thing you don't feel…"

Righteous indignation had risen up in her then, and they'd argued. He'd called her a cold fish and an ice queen, asking her why she simply didn't loosen up and have some fun. She had countered just as fiercely, asking him if rubbing his cock clumsily against her crotch while manhandling her breasts was his idea of giving her a good time.

She wasn't a cold fish… she wasn't! Her virginity was never something she had held onto purposefully. The right situation – and person – had simply not presented themselves. It had never felt right. For Hermione, it was about being in love, about wanting to give your entire self to another person, not simply getting off. (Severus would have called her a hopeless romantic —the git — but it was true.)

With Ron it felt… well, to be honest it felt wrong. She loved him, she was sure of that, but she didn't know if she was in love with him. Their argument had escalated to the point where she was afraid someone would overhear them, so she had asked him to leave. He did, but not before giving her a disgusted look and shaking his head in obvious disappointment. "I expected more from you, Hermione."

She watched him go, and it wasn't until she was alone that she let the tears fall. "And I from you, Ron…" she whispered to the cold, dark room. Things were never really the same after that night. They returned to school after the Easter break, and although Ron seemed to have forgotten about the incident, he treated her with a slight wariness that hadn't been there before.

Hermione didn't pay him much attention, honestly. NEWTs were fast approaching, and once again she immersed herself in her studies. She hardly ever saw either of the boys, only in shared classes or at meals, and when they were together, she still had her head buried in a textbook, revising one thing or another. Neither one questioned her, being used to her obsessive tendencies by now, but she was observant enough to see the disappointment on Ron's face each time she blew him off. Sadly, she couldn't bring herself to care.

Finally, NEWTs came and went, Hermione was accepted as Severus' apprentice, and their Hogwarts education came to a close. The boys were accepted into Auror training after their exam results came in, and it was on the eve of the celebration of this occasion – and only a week until the ceremony that would bind Hermione as Professor Snape's apprentice for the next four years – that she had officially broken things off with Ron.

In hindsight, there really hadn't been anything to break off. She and Ron hadn't spoken on any grand level in weeks – not that they ever did – and she certainly hadn't let him touch her as before. The occasional kiss or caress she let slip, just to put off an argument, but nothing more.

He had been angry when it happened. Come to think of it, he had been angry a lot back then, and she had, on more than one occasion, found him drinking more than he could handle.

"What is it, Hermione? Got a thing for ole Snape, have you?" he had slurred at her that night. "It's all you talk about… I can hardly get a word in edgewise for all you're going on about him." Ron's voice had taken on a snooty, high-pitched tone: "'I wonder what the first lesson will be like? I wonder if he'll let me try to brew Wolfsbane? I wonder if he'll let me watch him brew? He's a remarkable potioneer… have you seen him?' Merlin, Hermione… I'm so bloody sick of hearing about him! What does he have that I don't?"

The mean-spirited, vindictive side of her wanted to scream, A brain! but she let it pass. "First of all Ronald, I do not sound like that, and secondly this has nothing to do with Professor Snape. You and I have been falling further and further away from each other since that night at the Burrow."

"You mean the night I realized what a frigid bitch you are?" he sneered.

Hermione's mouth gaped at the sudden vehemence in Ron's voice; where had this mean, hateful man come from? Had it really hurt him that much when she had turned him away?

No. This was not her fault! She gritted her teeth. "I'm going to let that one go, Ron, but if you ever call me that again, I'll hex your balls into oblivion. Do you understand?"

He snorted at her. "Whatever…" and had walked away. "Enjoy your apprenticeship with the old bat… I hope he gives what you need…"

And she hadn't spoken to him again until almost two years later.

Harsh reality came crashing back with the opening of the office door. Hermione took a deep, steadying breath as the Headmaster strode in with Harry and Ron at his heels. The latter two were professionally garbed in red Aurors robes, and Hermione could tell that Ron had put on muscle since she had seen him last.

Neither of her former friends were novices any longer, having been out of training for more than a year, yet their faces and body language betrayed their relative inexperience.

Harry shifted from foot to foot, crossing and uncrossing his arms, and hadn't spared a glance for either Hermione or Severus since entering. Ron, on the other hand, zeroed in on the two of them immediately. He seemed surprised to find her standing at the hearth while Severus sat opposite. What did he expect? Were they supposed to be snogging like a couple of teenagers? She snorted; he should have been here five minutes ago.

Better luck next time, Ron, she thought. She did, however, move away from the hearth to stand next to Severus' chair. It was a simple gesture, letting the others know that the two of them were a unified front, but a small part of her delighted in the way Ron's lips pressed tightly together as she leaned her hip against the armrest, casually coming into contact with Severus' arm in the process.

Severus, in turn, smirked at Ron when the boy's eyes flicked to the dark wizard's face. See Weasley, she enjoys my touch… wants it… needs it. How does that make you feel? Angry? Disgusted? Oh, if you only knew some of the things we've done… you would—

"Now that we're all here, let's not waste any time, shall we?" the Headmaster's voice rang out, interrupting Severus' thoughts.

No one voiced a protest, so the Headmaster continued. "I won't insult the intelligence of anyone present with a long, drawn-out monologue." He paused, pinning them each with an eagle-eyed stare before getting to the point. "Horcruxes: seven pieces of Lord Voldemort's soul violently cleaved from his body through acts of cold-blooded murder and placed into seven magically significant objects, making him virtually immune to harm. Immortal, if you would.

"Two have been located and destroyed: Tom Riddle's diary—" He tossed a battered, leather journal onto his desk, which Hermione instantly recognized from their second year. "— and a ring owned by Voldemort's grandfather, Marvalo Gaunt." A small ring with a dark, diamond-cut stone clattered to a halt next to the diary. "That leaves five more." He paused again, and regarded each of them carefully.

Harry looked stoic and determined; apparently he already knew. Ron looked ill; his face had gone white, but he still tried to hold his posture like any new, supposedly well-trained Auror.

Severus looked murderous.

His thoughts were roiling. How could he possibly have been unaware of such a thing? He had been at the Dark Lord's side for years, and yet not a whisper of anything remotely like this. He knew what a horcrux was, but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that he would one day have to find and destroy one.

And there had been seven… with five yet to be found!

My God…

He glanced at Hermione, whose hand had automatically gripped his arm at the Headmaster's pronouncement, a gesture which did not go unnoticed by the other three in the room. Of the four of them, she was the only one that looked truly fearful, and in Severus' opinion that made her the smartest of them all.

Hermione wasn't afraid for herself, however, but rather for Severus. What did this mean for him? How would he be able to assist in destroying such vile creations while in turn remaining 'faithful' to the Dark Lord? If he were found out, he would be killed. She felt her breathing start to quicken as the possibility of truly losing him – not simply as a lover, but truly, irreversibly losing him – was realized. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and despite the knowledge that she and Severus had agreed to keep their true circumstances a secret, she opened her mouth to speak. Fortunately, she was cut off as the Headmaster spoke again.

"We must find them, we must destroy them, and we must make haste before Voldemort becomes aware that we know." He glanced at Severus, and an understanding passed silently between the two men. The Headmaster was worried as well. The question was, did he worry for Severus personally, or was he worried about losing his spy, his pet Death Eater?

Sadly, Hermione was leaning towards the latter.

The Headmaster turned away for a moment, reaching down into one of the drawers of his desk, and Severus took the opportunity to reach up and lay his hand gently over Hermione's, letting her know he sensed her distress. He removed it just as Dumbledore turned back to address them.

"We believe we have traces on at least one more at the moment – an ancient locket that belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself, and was once owned by the Black family. Now I believe it to be hidden somewhere in Albania," He paused slightly, tossing a piece of rolled parchment – a map - onto his desk, and Hermione almost rolled her eyes at the overdramatic gesture, "which is where you all will be going."

"Albania?" Severus sneered. "Have you lost what little sense you have left, Albus? I can't simply up and leave to go on some… excursion in the backwoods of Europe. In case you haven't noticed, I have classes to teach, an apprentice to train…"

The Headmaster had apparently been expecting this and held up his hands placatingly. "I know exactly what responsibilities you and Miss Granger each hold, Severus. That is why Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter will leave at the end of the week, and you and your apprentice will leave as soon as Christmas break begins."

Severus didn't miss the Headmaster's stress of the word apprentice, but ignored the jibe. Instead, he sighed heavily. "No one will question two Aurors on a field mission, but what of us?" He gestured between himself and Hermione. "I suppose you've devised a way to explain our sudden absence, even if it is the holidays?"

The Headmaster nodded sagely. "I'm sending the two of you away on school business. We're running low on some of the more important potions ingredients for the infirmary, and I do believe Miss Granger needs experience with medicinal plants, yes?"

Severus sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he tried to ward off a rapidly forming headache. "Yes, but a… a field trip? In the dead of winter? In Albania? You must be joking."

The older wizard shook his head. "No, I dare say I'm not, my boy. It's the perfect opportunity for you to be away without questions from… others." He gave Severus a pointed look.

"Yeah, wouldn't want the Dark Lord to get wise about things, now would we?" This came from Ron, who had been silent up until this point.

"Ron," Harry chided, an edge of warning in his voice.

"What?" Ron whispered vehemently back at his partner, "He's a fucking Death Eater, mate. Hell, she might be too… mucking about with him and all."

"I said enough, Ron." Harry's tone brooked no argument this time. Ron backed down, but not before turning his gaze accusingly on Hermione and Severus.

Severus simply glared at the red-headed Auror, wanting nothing more than to flay him alive for his ignorance. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Hermione's face was twisted into a pale rictus of both fury and shock. Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides as she glared daggers at her former friend. When the first faint red sparks sizzled and danced across her knuckles, Severus knew it was time to leave, and quickly. The damned fool had upset her immensely, and she was fast losing control of herself. As it was, he and Hermione already had much to discuss later this evening, and he really did not wish to add the sticky deaths of two fledgling Aurors — or the ensuing mountain of paperwork that would follow — to that list.

"Is that all, Headmaster?" He stood, crossing his arms over his chest casually as he sneered at the two younger men. "Some of us have to be up early."

Wisely, neither Harry nor Ron chose to say anything this time.

After another moment of tense silence – in which the air had started to sizzle with Hermione's angry, repressed magic – the Headmaster nodded. "You and Miss Granger are dismissed, Severus. I'll fill you in on the particulars in a few days."

Without a backwards glance, Severus headed for the door, holding it open for Hermione. She preceded Severus out of the office, and neither one spared a single thought for the three sets of watchful, narrowed eyes upon their backs as the door slammed shut in their wake.

~ TBC

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think!