I want to apologize for the long delay in the posting of this next chapter. Real life has been keeping me busy and a little stressed, which don't make for good writing conditions. I've been working on this chapter since January and it's taken me until April to finish it. I appreciate those who have taken the time to leave reviews with comments and crits.

As always, a special thank you to my outstanding beta: Snarkyroxy.

Chapter 6: Unearthing Secrets

A soft knock on the bedroom door tore Snape away from the Potions textbook he had been reading for the past few hours. Although it was only a standard fourth-year book, he had needed something to occupy his time and eagerly dove into the familiar pages.

He dog-eared the page and set it beside him on the comforter he was laying on. "Enter," he bid quietly.

The door creaked open just a foot or so and Hermione gave him a weak smile. "I just wanted to let you know I am going to the store for some groceries and a few things. It has been a while since anyone lived here, and other than a few canned goods there is nothing else to eat."

Snape nodded and Hermione began to close the door.

"Do you require money?"

"What doesn't require money?" she joked.

Snape sighed at her jest and shook his head. He forced himself not to snap at her as he would have if they were in his classroom. "No, I meant to ask if you required additional money for supplies and food."

Her eyes widened in surprise as she realized he was offering her money. He couldn't have very much to offer and certainly no money on him. She decided she would feel odd taking anything from him. She shook her head, her bushy hair swirling around her face. "No, I'm all set, thank you. I'll be back in about an hour. Do you need anything?"

He needed many things, but none could be retrieved from a Muggle grocery store. "I require nothing at present."

"Feel free to stretch your legs if you are in the mood, but remember what I said about the bedroom at the end of the hall."

Snape's dark eyebrows drew together. This was the second time she had mentioned the bedroom that was locked and – from what he could tell – warded at the end of the hallway. There was no point in tiptoeing around the situation when he realized he was burning with curiosity. "What is so important about-"

"Just stay out of it," she snapped suddenly.

Snape blinked at her tone.

She slammed the door a bit harder then she meant after sweeping out of the room.

"Curious," Snape murmured, and he returned to reading the book.

It was well over an hour later when he heard the front door open and close downstairs, followed by the sounds of rustling plastic bags and cabinet doors opening and closing. The smell of food drifted toward his room twenty minutes later.

Snape cautiously and very painfully left the bedroom and made his way to the stairs. He realized he felt worse after lying down than he had earlier in the morning. He walked slowly down the carpeted stairs, using the handrail for support as he went. The first few steps were not so difficult. but each step thereafter seemed to drain his strength. The bottom of the stairs suddenly seemed a hundred yards away, when moments before it had appeared to be only ten feet.

Huffing as quietly as he could, he reached the last step. He felt like an old man instead of a wizard just under forty years old as he leaned against the wall to regain his strength.

He gazed up to find Hermione watching him, and he scowled at her. If she even thought to assist him across the room, he'd assault her with the only thing that wasn't aching. His sharp tongue.

Hermione entwined her hands behind her back in an effort to keep from moving to help Snape. It was difficult to refrain from helping someone, as it was her nature, but she could tell Snape wanted nothing to do with her.

"I still haven't heard a word from Madam Pomfrey," she relayed sadly as he stepped closer. " I thought she'd owl by now with some idea of what curse might have hit you."

"You are very naïve, Miss Granger," Snape sighed.

Hermione frowned at him.

"Do you honestly think that Poppy Pomfrey will help me? After what I've done?"

Hermione's lips parted at his tone. She had never heard Severus Snape sound so broken.

"She's a nurse. Nurses help people, regardless of what they have done," the young woman tried to assure him. "Besides, you are innocent."

She had never heard Snape laugh before and the sound was not pleasant. "Innocent? I killed a man, Miss Granger, and not just any man," he spat harshly.

Snape looked away, unable to hold her concerned gaze. Hermione thought he was innocent, and she planned to prove he was by defending him in front of the Wizengamot. Snape knew he had been forced into killing the Headmaster, but he highly doubted the Wizengamot would see it that way. He could have defied the demands of the late Headmaster, and who knows what the end result of the war would have been.

Hermione continued to watch her former professor. If he had killed Headmaster Dumbledore in cold blood as Harry claimed, he would not appear so forlorn as he looked now. He was visibly shaken by what he had done, and he was obviously still dealing with the consequences.

Snape felt weary. His body was aching all over and he could feel the stirrings of a headache. "I will be fine with a few days rest. There is nothing to concern yourself with," he told the young witch.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue that much more than a few days had passed and he was still not well, but Snape lowered his brows and gave her a stern look. The wall he normally showed the world was up again, but she had been fortunate to witness Severus Snape without it protecting him. She sighed and gestured toward the kitchen. "Brunch is ready."

A white china plate full of scrambled eggs with steam rising above them, wheat toast and an annoying mug of tea that said "Brushing morning, noon and night keeps your teeth pearly white" around it, sat on a small oak kitchen table. Across the plate table was a smaller portion of the same for Hermione. She also had a mug with a saying that related to teeth. It was then that Snape remembered her parents had been dentists. Very ironic for a young woman with buck teeth. It must have horrified her parents.

The kitchen was small. Oak cabinets graced one wall, a white refrigerator, a stainless steel sink and the table with four chairs.

Breakfast was quiet other than the clinking of silverware on china plates, the crunching of toast or the sipping of tea. Snape was surprisingly ravenous and ate his meal quickly. He noticed Hermione nibbled on hers and pushed the food around more than she ate it. Shockingly, this concerned him. While Snape had never particularly paid attention to Hermione Granger, he knew from her sitting in his class for six years that she was a fairly thin girl. It was obvious that the war had not been kind – not only to her friendships and family, but her body as well. She had lost weight since the war and he wondered if part of the reason was her strangled relationship with Potter and the loss of Mr. Weasley, whom she'd had affections for.

"Are you not hungry?" Snape found himself asking, forcing himself to banish Potter from his mind.

She gave him a half smile. The kind a person made when they wanted people to think that everything was just fine, when truly it was not. "No, I guess not. Although you certainly were."

Snape glanced down at his empty plate. "It has been a long while since I have had a hot meal." He could not bring himself to compliment her, even though the meal was good.

She smiled, but Snape realized that it did not reach her eyes. The brilliant, young, self-assured know-it-all seemed to be disappearing before his eyes, and that disturbed him. While there was still fire within her, it didn't burn nearly as brightly.

"I'm going to clear the dishes and wash them, and then I think it's a good idea if we exchange information in preparation for Friday," she suggested.

"Very well."

"You can make yourself comfortable in the living room while I finish up in here."

He nodded, wondering if he should ask if she wanted assistance, but decided against it. He was feeling rather weak after their brunch in more ways than one.

He walked into the living room with its beige carpet and white walls covered in more photos of London as well as people he assumed were her relatives. Snape noticed that not a single picture of Hermione graced the walls. He noticed several nails sticking out from walls, though, as well as several frames laid face down on the mantle of a fireplace.

Confident that Hermione was occupied with the task of clearing the dishes, he painfully made his way to the fireplace. He glanced at the kitchen door before he picked up one of the frames from the mantle. There was no glass in it and some of the photo as well as the wood was damaged. He concluded that Hermione must have been upset and either dropped or thrown the frame.

The photo had a strange effect on him. His heartbeat quickened and it was difficult to breathe. He ran several of his callused fingers over the smooth paper, tracing the outline of Hermione Granger's face. She was laughing about something. He did not know what, since the picture did not move, but she was happy and a bit heavier in weight then she was now. A man and a woman stood behind her. The woman had hair was the same color as Hermione's, and she was laughing as well. She had her hand on Hermione's shoulder. The man had dark hair and was grinning at the two women in front of him.

Snape looked into photo-Hermione's eyes and clumsily put the frame back on the mantle. It teetered but thankfully did not fall, and he stepped away.

He made to sit on the couch, but found it was made up like a bed with a sheet, comforter and pillow. Surely, she didn't plan on sleeping down here when there was a spare bedroom at the end of the hall upstairs?

Snape went to sit himself in an armchair across from the couch. He lost his balance and tumbled gracelessly onto the furniture. He felt exhausted, when hours before he was beginning to feel his strength return. His heart was still beating rapidly. The memory of that photo was etched into his mind. It had been Hermione's eyes that had caused him to break away. The woman sharing her parents' house with him was not the same person as the one in the photo. He could not shake the feeling that was partially his fault.

Hermione entered the living room nearly ten minutes later. She sat herself on the couch, oblivious to what had taken place in her absence. "Where would you like to begin? Should I get my notes?"

Snape shook his head. "You outlined events we both know about. I need to know what happened at Hogwarts in my absence.

"I could get some back issues of the Prophet for you to flip through to find that out."

Snape shook his head again.

The wizard sighed and then looked up directly into her eyes. "I believe it would be better if I could see the events from your point of view. I would prefer a Pensieve for this, if you have one available…" His voice took on a quiet tone.

"I don't. Most of my magical things are…" She paused, looking forlorn. She was still unable to say the name of Ron's home aloud. "They aren't here. And I don't have a Pensieve yet. I was afraid of leaving something like that around for the wrong person to discover."

Snape could not deny that she was an intelligent young woman. Of course, thinking it and admitting it aloud were two separate things.

"Then…we might want to try another means of communication," he suggested softly.

Hermione hesitated, her eyes flashing wildly and settling on everything in the room but him. She knew exactly which form of communication he was referring to.

"I understand how difficult it would be."

"No, you don't," she said, jumping slightly when she realized she had said her thoughts out loud.

"If you agree to this, I promise you I will not search for anything you are not willing to show me." It was his turn to glance away. "You trusted me with the information I passed to you last year. I ask you to trust me again."

"That's much different than letting you rummage around in my head, through my memories!" she shouted.

He spoke quietly. "I will not push you, Miss Granger. If you chose not to do this, you can relay the information to me verbally, which is quite acceptable." He refused to push her, seeing how much this seemed to disturb her.

"And waste a lot of time when you could see it all in only a few minutes." She stared at him, glancing him over as if to see if he was safe to trust. Their eyes met and Hermione realized he was being sincere. After a few moments of battling inner turmoil, she nodded to him.

"What must I do? I…I haven't…" She stumbled over her words, afraid of saying too much or too little.

"Clear your mind of everything but that which you are willing to allow me to see. Focus on those thoughts so they are at the front of your mind."

Hermione nodded and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes, taking several minutes to block her other thoughts.

Snape was certain she could follow his instructions. She had been the first student to perform a non-verbal spell in his Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He was confident she could clear her mind.

"This is much more difficult than I thought it would be," she said softly.

He could tell she was attempting to keep her voice steady and she was failing. Was she truly that afraid? And was it because of the unknown, or was it because of him?

"I will not push you. If you are unable-"

"No, I can do this. I'm ready," she replied adamantly

"We need to be closer together. You are too far away."

"Where do you want me? I know we need to have eye contact."

"Indeed. Stand in front of me."

She did as he instructed, stepping before where he sat on the chair. She kept her eyes diverted toward the carpeting. This whole thing felt strangely intimate, though certainly not in a sexual way.

"Miss Granger?"

She looked into his eyes, noticing how dark they really were. They were blacker than a winter night sky devoid of the moon.

He noticed she was shaking, and it bothered him that she might be afraid of him. He parted his lips to ask her again if was ready, but decided against it. He placed his palms on her shoulder. Very slowly the shaking subsided beneath them.

"Legilimens."

'Otherworldly' was the only thing Hermione could describe it as. She could sense Snape in her mind, a dark shadow that normally was not present. This was much different than the first time someone had read her thoughts. This wasn't a violent invasion. It was calm, gentle, almost soothing… things she would not normally associate with Severus Snape.

She showed him everything she could think of that might help. The reactions of the staff and the Order after the murder of Dumbledore, the clues she had found; her investigations, her desire to know that her former Potions Professor was not bad as everyone thought him to be. She also relived many of the frightening moments of the final battle.

Strangely, she could still hear and feel everything going on outside her mind. She heard Snape's sharp intake at the reactions of the staff, and felt him squeeze her shoulder at the slightest mention of Dumbledore. She did not feel, but could sense Snape's emotions as he viewed each memory. Overwhelming hurt and guilt were flooding him.

Snape prepared to draw back when she sent him a memory strong and clear. He sensed it was something she wanted him to see and yet was fighting to hide. This memory was hazy, as if it had been buried in a corner of her mind, dirtied and dusty from not being viewed very often.

Hermione, Harry and Ron were walking down the hallways that led toward the dungeons. Other students milled around individually or in groups.

Ron and Harry were talking about Quidditch, something they rarely did these days since the teams were not playing this year. The school was not even supposed to open after the death of the Headmaster the previous year, but things had changed at the last moment and school resumed. Not nearly as many students returned.

Hermione gave a sigh. "I used to enjoy Potions. Now I dread it nearly as much as I dreaded Divination. It was a challenge when Professor Snape taught it; now it's a waste of time." She paused, startled to realize something. "I actually miss his classes." She said this quietly and mostly to herself, but Harry spun around as if she had shouted it.

"What did you just say?"

Hermione pressed her lips together. She knew this was a sore subject for Harry, but it was how she felt.

Ron drew away. He could sense an argument before it happened these days. "She's been practically sleeping in the library again, Harry. I think the smell of books has fried her brain."

Hermione frowned at him and Ron shrugged. He was only trying to be helpful.

"I could have sworn I heard you say you miss his classes." Harry's dark eyebrows lowered beneath his round glasses.

Hermione brushed her wild hair back behind her shoulders. "I did say that, and don't get your wand in a knot. Neither of you can deny that we learned more from Professor Snape than other Potions or Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers."

Harry flinched at the name as if he'd been struck with a powerful hex. He balled his hands into fists. "I don't ever want to hear that murderer's name said aloud. He'd better watch himself, because if I ever find him-"

"You'll what, Harry? Hit him with a few Unforgiveables so you can wind up in Azkaban? For goodness sake, we don't even know the whole story." Flustered, Hermione started to walk away, seeing the fire burning in Harry's green eyes. She knew what happened when that fire burned. Harry became irrational and sometimes even dangerous.

Despite everything that had happened within the last seven months, Hermione was having a hard time believing Dumbledore would trust Professor Snape so completely, given his past, if something more was not happening. The former Headmaster had allowed Severus Snape to teach for years. Also, he had entrusted Professor Snape with valuable Order information.

Harry grabbed her arm and forced her to look at him. "This isn't the first time you've brought him up."

Ron sighed and kicked at an imaginary pebble on the castle floor.

"What more do you want me to say, Harry? You already know that I think there is more to it than meets the eye." She was not going to back down this time.

"So you've said, countless times. Is that why you've been in the library lately? Trying to find more information on Snape or his family? Hunting for clues to what I already know?"

"I've been in the library, preparing for my NEWTS as you two should have been."

"Why do you always look at where he used to sit at the High Table, Hermione? Do you miss that murderer himself, not only his classes? DO YOU?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Harry, lower your voice." She glanced around, noticing that many students had stopped to see what was happening. "We should get going. We're going to be late for Potions."

"It's just a waste of time now that the murderer isn't teaching it," he spat at her.

"I think that's enough, mate," Ron said putting a hand on Harry's shoulder in an effort to calm him down.

"Shove off, Ron!"

Hermione was furious by now, but she wasn't about to cause anymore of a scene than they already were. She moved to walk away, but Harry spun her around. He glanced deep into her eyes and whispered, "Legilimens."

Hermione's eyes widened at the unexpected invasion. It felt like someone was tearing at the flesh of her brain, trying to unearth her secrets. She attempted to pull away, but Harry was determined and he didn't relent until he found what he was looking for. He backed away, eyes wide, gasping.

Hermione's head hurt terribly. She felt as if someone had beaten her from the inside out.

"Why do you have so many memories of him teaching? Of his visits to Sirius' house? Damn it, Hermione, you think he might be innocent! Did you forget that he killed Dumbledore!"

Nearly everyone in the hall had stopped to see what was going on by now. Harry's voice was carrying a great distance. There were students who had returned to school who Hermione wasn't sure she trusted. She didn't need the entire school to know she thought more was going on with Severus Snape than the murder of the Headmaster.

What was worse, though, was Harry's actions. She felt tears, but bitterly pushed them away, refusing to cry. Harry had invaded her mind and it had hurt her far more than she thought possible. She trusted him, had always trusted him, but looking at him now, Hermione could scarcely recognize him. His fingers were digging into her arm, preventing her from escaping.

"Harry, let go. You're hurting me." Her voice came out much steadier than she thought it would.

He held tighter, causing her to wince. "And you don't think you're hurting me?"

"How could I possible be hur-"

"You still respect the man who killed the greatest wizard that ever lived! You think something more happened than what I saw! Do you know how twisted that is, Hermione? He killed Dumbledore in cold blood before my eyes, he killed Sirius-"

"He didn't kill Sirius-"

"He did! He killed him, just like he killed my parents! He's just as bad as Voldemort! He's nothing but a murdering snake and I will see him die by my hands before this war is over!" Harry released her roughly, shoving her back until she hit the wall. Her books, quills and parchments went flying. He stomped away like an angry child.

Hermione looked to Ron, who sighed. He put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze before he jogged after Harry.

Hermione glanced around to see the students were still looking at her, and now they were whispering amongst themselves. "Go about your business. The show is over," she bit out.

She scrambled to gather her books, realizing that not one student came forth to help her. She ignored Harry in Potions class as well as for the rest of the day. She cried herself to sleep that night.

Snape felt bewildered as he withdrew from Hermione's mind. She was breathing heavily before him, wavering unsteadily on her feet, shaking and she appeared very pale. Somehow, their hands had met and their fingers were entwined. Hermione did not seem to notice, but Snape did instantly, and yet he did not pull away.

Anger coursed red hot through him. Who the hell did that boy think he was? Potter had ripped into the mind of one of his best friends. And how he had learned to do that? Where did he learn Legilimency?

Snape had tried to warn Dumbledore about the boy and his words had fallen on deaf ears. How would Albus have reacted if he were alive to know what Harry had done? Would he have turned a blind eye or reprimanded him?

Hermione did her best to compose herself. She knew the memory had resurfaced because Snape had entered her mind. He had seen it now, even though she had not wanted him to. It would only give him a reason to hate Harry even more. She should hate Harry for all he had done, but she couldn't find it in herself to do so.

"Perhaps that is enough for tonight," Snape said quietly.

Hermione nodded and felt warmth surrounding her hands. She glanced down to notice that her fingers were entwined with Snape's. She would have expected his hands to be cold, but they were far from it. She could feel the roughness of his skin from years spent preparing both ingredients and potions. On impulse, she moved her thumb to stroke his.

Snape untangled his hands immediately, the touch far too unnerving.

Hermione stepped back so he could stand.

She realized he was shaking badly. He was much paler than usual as well.

"I should…rest."

"Why don't you sleep on the couch? You can rest during the day and spend the night here, if you'd like. I can sleep on the chair or something."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Severus Snape. You've been cursed with Merlin only knows what…"

"Tell me something I don't know, Granger!" he roared.

She drew back, suddenly feeling like a timid second year.

Snape sat down roughly in the chair again, and covered his face with one hand. He felt dizzy from the outburst. He heard Hermione step away, but his voice halted her.

"I am…sorry, Miss Granger. You did not deserve that."

Their eyes met again and she could see that he was once again being sincere. How would she have reacted, being in bed for weeks and awakening to find someone she didn't like watching over her and eyeing her every move?

"It's okay. I nag and say the obvious sometimes."

"Sometimes? Don't you mean all the time?" Snape's lips twitched into a tiny smile.

Hermione's eyes widened. Severus Snape had just joked with her. She returned his smile. Then she stepped toward him and knelt by the chair. "Would you like your feet up?"

"That would be acceptable."

She pulled the wooden handle on one side of the chair and raised the footstool. Then she reached for the blanket on the couch and draped it over him.

He grunted and attempted to push it away, but she refused to back off.

"It's chilly down here; you'll need this for later. I'll be upstairs if you need anything. And I prefer Hermione over Miss Granger, if you don't mind. You make me feel as if I'm still in school."

He grunted at her again for the way she was treating him, and was rewarded with a genuine smile that lit up her face.

He sighed as she disappeared easily up the horrible stairs.

Several moments later, his eyelids began to feel heavy. Against his will, he drifted off to sleep with the image of a bushy-haired young woman smiling at him.