She'd given everything she could to the cause. Her health, her home, her family... everything. Hermione's life was as empty as her stomach and those wonderful years at Hogwarts seemed like they came from another lifetime.

Sometime in the middle of their sixth year, Voldemort had found a way onto the castle grounds without detection and managed to get into the Slytherin dungeons where he found rousing support to his presence. Although he did not remain in the castle, in fact his cameo there was not revealed until after his departure, the repercussions were dire. Much of Slytherin House left the castle before the end of the year. The few students who sympathized with the Dark Lord and were already of age left the castle for his ranks, swelling them unthinkably. Many of the younger students left for Durmstrang where it had become common knowledge that Voldemort was not only back, he was recruiting from campus.

None of this would've wrought such a strong change in Hermione Granger, however. She was never one to feel she should give up in the face of insurmountable odds. There was only one incident that ripped at her and it had happened when the Dark Lord was at Hogwarts – when she had stood before him.

On the grounds, as he made his retreat, Hermione intercepted him. Someone had to warn Dumbledore (in fact Harry had been on his way since they saw "Tom Riddle" on the Marauder's Map a few minutes ago) but someone also had to make sure that the Dark Lord did not get away this time. Making the true Gryffindor sacrifice, she determined to give up her life to stall him – stealing Harry's broom, she left Gryffindor tower through the window and landed ten feet from Voldemort.

"Get out of my way, you stupid little girl." He hissed, glaring at her, knowing, as she did, the he must avoid a corpse by all means. This was not the time to reveal himself to that fool Fudge and his ridiculous excuse for an administration.

"No." Snape was standing obediently one Voldemort's left, his eyes betraying nothing to the brunette who was jeopardizing her life for stupidity.

The Dark Lord hissed again, looking at Nott who was standing somehow behind the brunette, and then turned and continued his flight from the castle grounds.

Nott had nodded as any good servant would, and wrapped his arm tightly around Hermione from behind, tipping something down her neck with the other hand as Severus stood completely still, never moving, watching the other man put her under, knowing he'd have hell to pay when she woke back up.

That's what had done it – whatever it was: his eyes watching the entire thing. She had thought they were friends... almost more than? The tiny voice inside her would not believe that there was nothing he could have done. He could have saved her. She should not have had to deal with the hell Nott gave to her.

When Hermione had woken up again she was in the hospital wing, a scar burned into the back of her neck – the Dark Mark. And it burned, like she'd always heard it did. It burned so hot when he called them that she thought it would burn through. It never called her, however. It left her screaming at night and she always knew when they were gathering – she always knew when there would be pain, when there would be death.

The Grangers were the first to go. The blinding pain, the heat of the scar had knocked her out the first time he called them. The next morning an owl reached her with The Prophet in its talons, telling her that her parents were dead in the first Death Eater strike. Fudge now believed, but it was too late.

He would come for her, she knew that. Ron and Harry tried to convince her to stay, but it was no good. Two days later she was gone and nobody, not even Albus Dumbledore knew where she had gone.

Three Years Later

Standing on the corner of Couch St. and 181st Ave., he watched her shiver, trying to pull the tattered cloak around her emaciated body. It was obvious that she hadn't eaten for days. This was probably the first time she'd managed to ignore the protests of her stomach long enough to fall asleep.

Of course she would have come here. You couldn't get much farther away and still know the language. She was a smart woman after all, despite her idiocy. She had run from what she knew was her eventual fate. It was one thing to look the Avada Kedavra in the face and say "Give it to me" but, it was quite another to know that when he caught you it would not end in a flash of light – it was going to end in screams of torment as something, possibly your own two hands, pulled you apart from the inside.

He couldn't interfere, however, he knew that. No matter what his feelings were for her, his duty demanded that he forget that he had seen her there.

Striding back towards his hotel in the heart of downtown Portland, Severus resolved to do just that... after sending owls to Potter and Weasley.

Standing in his suite, he tried to figure out how she had gotten there. What had happened to that beautiful, spirited young woman who had stared down the Dark Lord three years ago.

A glass of firewhiskey was gripped tightly in his hand until it shattered, sending glass deeply into his palm. Sometimes it was good to just feel – it was something he wasn't usually allowed to do, not in front of Him anyway.

Severus stood next to the window, leaning on the frame, two letters sitting out on the desk behind him, waiting only to be sent. If the building in front of him had not been there, he would've been able to see her – he could see her in his mind. Curled up, shivering, starving, dying. He hadn't been able to save her three years ago and he wasn't allowed to now. It was too close – they were so close to the end of things.

A week later Hermione, huddled on the steps of Pioneer Courthouse Square saw two once familiar people striding towards her, their faces set with fury.

"How could you?" Harry stood on the step above, looking at the shivering mass that once was one of his best friends, "You stupid..." He shook his head and hauled her up into his arms despite her flails and protests, "You will come with us and you will not say a word, so help me God!"

Ron said nothing. He looked as if he was nothing less than resolved to stand next to his friends. His heart had broken years ago, leaving a mended mess behind.

The three apparated to St. Mungo's where Hermione was admitted under Harry's orders and Gringott's account.

They left her in her hospital bed, having said nothing more to her, but Ron turned at the last moment after Harry had already walked out, "You know he had no choice, right? He did what he had to do and I'm sorry it left you like this, but it was necessary and you put him through hell for it."

Parties sprang up all over England, not to mention the rest of Europe and the Americas, when the news finally came through: Voldemort was defeated, finally. Harry Potter, Hero of the World, had driven his own wand through the Dark Lord's heart. The world was saved and everyone could return to their regularly scheduled programming.

That last battle, however, he had called his Death Eaters to him and the pain of that last call, so full of rage and fear, had sent Hermione into a coma. She was so weak. Too weak to pull herself back out of it.

One Death Eater, however, had known it was the end. Severus Snape, drowning his pain in a bottle of firewhiskey, had known that Harry Potter was going to face the Dark Lord that night and, for the first time, had not heeded his "master's" call. The next morning, however, he heeded another one.

"Severus! Wake up!" Minerva stood over the inebriated Potion's Master, a look of absolute fury on her face as he slowly came to, "Well, it's about time! Your expertise has been summoned to St. Mungo's and you had better get there right quick!"

Minerva made herself busy about his rooms, throwing clean robes and a vial of potion at him, "Get yourself clean and sober and over there in fifteen minutes or I swear I will tell Albus!"

Severus slowly managed to accomplish all three tasks, stepping into his fire and flooing to the hospital, finding that someone was already there, waiting for him, "Yes?"

The receptionist was all a flutter, having never met the famous Potionist S. Snape before, "Mr. Snape! We've worn ourselves weary and still she will not wake!" She was walking quickly towards one of the wards, Snape striding quietly at her side, "It could be because the poor nutrition left her in such a weak state, but the other night-"

Severus had broken her off by roughly shoving the woman to one side and breaking in a run towards room 314, slamming the door open to find what he had dreaded would be lying there, "Hermione..." he whispered, "You stupid girl, what have you done this time."

"We don't know what happened. The other night she just... she started screaming." One of the MediWizards said, looking exhausted, "And then she just passed out and hasn't come to yet. No idea what caused it, but we can tell... we're losing her."

Snape slid his fingers along the back of her neck and found the dried blood there from where the Mark had ripped her skin apart, "She felt it... she's been.." he slowly realized what Nott had done to her, why she had run, "That bastard said it was a sleeping draught!"

He whirled back around and starting shouting orders to the Wizards-In-Training, ordering potions ingredients and two cauldrons to be brought in at once. She was going to make it. She would going to be healthy, and bushy-haired, and she was going to ask stupid, annoying, useless questions again if it killed him!

She felt it, from a long way away. She could feel it fade, disappear. Slowly, instead of becoming part of her as she had always worried it would be, Hermione felt the Mark lift from her skin, removing its taint from her very soul as she slowly, painfully awoke.

"About time, too."

She saw, blearily, Snape standing with his back to her, washing his hands in the nearby basin, "Thank you, Professor."

He turned to her and, instead of the impatience or the scowl she had expected to find there, she saw a man who had aged ten years in the last day. She saw a man who was soaked with sweat and heavy with sleep. She finally saw past the Professor and the man who had stood by while her life slid into darkness and caught a glimpse of the one who had waited so long for her to grow up and the war to end, "Thank you, Severus."

He smirked wearily and slumped into a chair, finally allowing himself to really look at her, "Do that again and I swear next time I'll let you die."