Hello everyone! I hope everyone is staying safe and well during COVID!

Another chapter! Only 4?ish months this time, not almost a year. I'm doing better!

A brief summary:

After Hermione killed Bellatrix in the Department of Mysteries, Voldemort ordered Draco to kill Hermione as his task. Severus convinces Draco to defect, and they plan a fake poisoning to make it look like Draco is making progress. That summer, Dumbledore also reveals the secret of the Horcruxes to Hermione and a select group of Order members - but Hermione is the only one who knows that there is a Horcrux in Harry's head. During her 'poisoning' Hermione will do experiments to attempt to figure out how to remove this Horcrux. Severus helped kidnap Yaxley as a research subject in (moderately dark) turn.

On to the story!

Chapter 61

Hermione had imagined her clandestine research taking place hidden in the shadowy recesses of the Restricted Section, hidden among the dangerous books on soul magic. Instead, she was carefully hidden behind layers of Disillusionment spells and frowning the Biography section.

She trailed her fingers over thick books in the "F" section. Fame and Fortune: Fiona Fantastic, The Life and Times of Damien Foolsglove, Witchy Weather: the Fogsmith Family of Scotland… and there it was. The Black Widow: The Deadly Love of Vivian Foxfield.

Her heart beating in her chest, Hermione quickly spelled the book invisible and plucked the volume from the shelves. It was ironic that this hint of information had come to her as she was fighting for her life from poison, purchased by the same man who had brought the Lady of Foxfield's opal necklace to her. Or rather, had bought the necklace in order to at least attempt to kill her.

Hermione wandered to a hidden alcove where the other students would be less likely to see the slight distortion she left in her wake. This was one of her favorite spots, near a small window that looked out onto the lake. She bent her head and began to read.

The early life of Vivan Foxfield was uneventful. A pureblood lady, the only surprising thing was that she had been sorted into Slytherin, a deviation from her historically Ravenclaw family. She was an only child and the last of the Foxfield linage. While the Foxfields had been rich a generation before, her father Frederick Foxfield had run up enormous gambling debts that had driven the family close to destitution. Their only hope had been their daughter marrying rich – and so she had, straight out of Hogwarts. Her first husband was Agnostus Goyle. The photo in the biography was of a decrepit wizard with a mean smirk, and the beautiful waif-like Vivian at their wedding, the bride almost lost in swathes of white dress robes.

Hermione examined the woman's face. It was surprising to realize that Vivian was younger in this photo than she was, only barely seventeen. She was beautiful despite a strong nose, with black hair and light eyes. She didn't look scared in the picture, only determined.

It was, by all accounts, an unhappy and brief marriage. While the wedding resolved the family's gambling debts, the biography described Vivian as deeply unhappy. Excerpts from letters to her Hogwarts friends recounted a husband with a temper, whose older children were dismissive of their younger step-mother. This Vivian seemed beleaguered on all sides: her husband was quick to realize that his in-laws were only interested in his money, her step-children were cruel to her, and her family became upset when the flood of Galleons ran dry.

Enter Benedict Nonamus. The photo of the young dandy showed a handsome younger man, in his late twenties at the most, with fashionable clothing and laughing eyes. In the photo, he gave the viewer a rakish wink and tipped his hat over and over again. The biographer, clearly titillated by the rumors he had pieced together, extoled the drama and scandal caused by the flirtation. It was clearly insinuated that it was this young love that had encouraged Vivian to escape her unhappy marriage, by any means necessary. Hermione pursed her lips as she scanned the pages – there was little to prove this at all.

Nevertheless, Agnostus died suddenly of what appeared to be a heart attack, alone in his bed. The lovely Vivian, now only nineteen, was now a lovely widow. After a respectful six months of mourning, Vivian and Benedict married in a discreet ceremony, nothing like the enormous first wedding. The biographer insinuated this marriage occurred rather quickly after the reading of Agnostus Goyle's will, which left very little money to his third wife in favor of his eldest son, Gronagan Goyle.

However, only one year later, Vivian's letters had changed from overjoyed and relieved to deeply furious. She spoke of her husband's endless wandering eye, apologized for offenses given to her unmarried friends, and of three miscarriages. Abruptly, the biographer noted with glee, the tone changed. Vivian no longer wrote of her husband at all… and he was murdered by the husband of a married woman he had been dallying with, a man who had claimed Imperius during the subsequent Wizengamot trial…

This time, Vivian had been left a rather large sum of Galleons, and had gained more than a little notoriety. The term 'black widow' was certainly banded about in the press, long with photos of the beautiful Vivian in luxurious black dress robes that showed off her figure, beautiful and lithe. She had been widowed twice in two years, and was still barely twenty. She was belle of Wizarding society, with a sharp wit and trails of gossip. And yet, with her father's addiction barely in control, the money ran out in four months.

Her next husband, Robert Browning, was older this time, and obviously more clever than his predecessors. He was bound to Vivian with a soul bond, which linked their lives and their souls. He was a curious man, Hermione thought, examining him closely. He was a pureblood, but not one of the old families. Rather, he had made his considerable fortune in the dragon parts trade, something that was at odds with his thin frame, thick glasses, and receding hairline. And for the first time, there was a filigree and opal necklace around Vivian's neck and a serene smile on her face.

When Robert died – from dragon pox, of all things – it was reported in all local papers that Vivian had survived. She offered only one public comment – that Robert had researched the old magic of the soul bond, but obviously had made a mistake, and she was very surprised and missed her husband dearly.

Again she appeared in the papers, ridiculously wealthy at this point. The quality of her dress robes increased, as did the number of lavish parties and trips to the Continent. In every society photo reprinted in the book, Vivian stood out among her peers. Dark haired, dark lipped, dressed in every color but black… and while her contemporaries dripped with diamonds or sapphires or pearls… Vivian wore the same opal necklace to every occasion.

At this point, Hermione was thoroughly captivated. Why on earth would Vivian have remarried? Three marriages in barely four years, and to have escaped a soul bond, of all things? Even her father's gambling problem couldn't have blown through the Browning fortune. But nevertheless, Vivian married again just eight months later, this time to another wealthy bachelor who publicly insisted on a soul bond. And yet, he was gone in just thirteen months, as were the next five husbands…

The afternoon was half gone when Hermione returned the book to the shelf, head swimming. She needed to know more about soul bonds for marriage – this mystery would take some time to unravel. Vivian had clearly managed to escape several soul bounds, and the key was clearly the necklace that she had refused to remove or let anyone else touch. With no children, Vivian's dear Hogwarts friend, Elodie Smith, nee Rosenstein, had inherited the necklace and given to her daughter, Hepzibah. Hepzibah had sold it to Borgin and Burkes in exchange for a significant reduction in price for a locket that could be traced back to Salazar Slytherin.

It made Hermione giddy to think that Tom Riddle had come so close to the object that she sincerely hoped would be his downfall. She wondered if Tom had even handled the necklace when it was at Borgin and Burkes.

How had she done it? How had Vivian Foxfield escaped the bond? For each of the bonded husbands, she had been with them for at least one year, Hermione saw, having calculated the times from the dates of the appendices.

The books on soul bonds were in the Restricted Section, unlike the biography. Hermione supposed it really was for the best – the last thing a boarding school wanted was for precocious fourteen-year-old wizards and witches to get overly starry-eyed and perform soul bonds on each other. For that matter, seventeen-year-olds were also at risk, given the way engagements seemed to pop up amongst the oldest students each spring.

The wards on this set of shelves in the Restricted Section were as familiar to Hermione as her own name, given the sheer number of times she had cracked them. She had largely avoided the information about marriage bonds, focusing more on trying to find information about soul-siphoning and Horcruxes. The book she eventually found was slim and had a red velvet cover. With a quick check to ensure no one would see a floating book, Hermione tucked it into her book bag. It was late enough now to return to Severus' chambers. He would leaving his staff meeting shortly, and she wanted to be waiting for him.

He'll probably be in a terrible mood, Hermione thought, with an internal wince. Staff meetings – all meetings, really, from the Order to the Death Eaters to the Hogwarts faculty – tended to put Severus in a bad mood. He was not one to suffer idiots. Maybe I could offer him a nice massage. Or… or some more fun. A smile on her face, she hurried out of the Restricted Section, carefully weaving around oblivious students.

Throughout the entire infernal staff meeting, Severus could not keep – or rather, considering he was Master Occlumens, did not want to keep – his mind from delving into thoughts of Hermione, even as he caustically opposed Slughorn's bid to invite a vampire to the castle for his little 'Slug Club' gathering and visibly huffed at Professor Sprout's impassioned defense of the Gobstone Club, whose membership had never quite recovered from Educational Decree Number Twenty-four. He was normally the voice of disagreement and dissent at this meetings, and he played his part well. Occasionally, if Minerva wanted something controversial to pass, she would give him a significant glance and he would rant against it until everyone else had united in opposition to him. It was one of the few and fragile threads of friendship he had with the old Scottish witch, and one of which he was tetchily protective. Still, he was eager to abandon the dull debate over whether or not Filch was being too aggressive with the Secrecy Sensors or whether the parent complaints were worth it, considering the number of love potions and shrunken heads that had been discovered tucked away in student robes for a thornier issue.

He still had yet to tell Hermione about the change in his Patronus. Luckily Kingsley appeared to have neglected it in his reports to Hermione, as more pressing issues arose in the power vacuum left in the Ministry by Scrimgeour's death. Aurors were holding secret meetings, as were the department heads and Wizengamot members all vying to place their own puppet in the seat of power. For all of his faults, Scrimgeour had been a solid choice for Minister for Magic, if not particularly subtle. Names like Pius Thicknesse were being thrown about, but the man had been mysteriously absent, recovering, it was said, from a bad bout of the dragon pox. Severus, however, happened to know that what he was recovering from was a surprisingly strong Imperius curse that had been laid on him by none other than Yaxley. A look through the man's memories had shown Yaxley forging a note from his lover, asking the Head of Magical Law Enforcement to meet him in a Muggle pub not far from the Ministry. The rest was history. Severus wondered if Yaxley had ever wavered in his commitment to the Dark Lord. Obviously the plan had been for Corban Yaxley to kill his lover, and for his puppet to assume the role of Minister for a Ministry takeover. Would Yaxley have hesitated for love?

And that brought him to his last problem. He would have to tell Hermione about Lily in greater detail, in order to explain the significance of his Patronus. Severus had fervently hoped that he would never have to delve into the depths of his youthful cowardice with Hermione. He should have known it was inevitable. And, he thought to himself, he was damn lucky that Dumbledore had never revealed it to her. At least the old goat at kept at least one promise he had made his Potions Master.

His thoughts jumped back to his surroundings as professors began to shuffle their chairs and gather their papers, going back to their quarters for the evening. "Finally," he muttered under his breath. He stood and swept toward the doors, only to be blocked by Slughorn's portly figure.

"Severus, my esteemed colleague," Slughorn said jovially. "I trust you did not forget our little deal?" A wily spark in his eye let Severus know that his replacement had indeed suspected him of forgetting.

Severus glowered at him. "Enlighten me," he said in clipped tones. What deal had they made?

"I took your last Hogsmeade weekend," Slughorn reminded him, wagging a finger. "In exchange, you agreed to take my Monday evening patrols for October."

It took a moment of staring blankly at the other wizard for Severus to remember the exchange he had made with Slughorn weeks before. He had needed to spend the Hogsmeade weekend indoors with one Hermione, planning her poisoning in his rooms. She had later spun through time and joined the boys for a butterbeer, but reluctant to use the Time Turner himself, he had been forced to swap his assigned date with another professor. The old spider had made quite a deal for himself – after the negotiations were over, he had admitted he had been planning to go to the village for more candied pineapple anyway.

"Of course," he said briskly. "My… apologies." Clearly the look on his face was less than apologetic, because Slughorn blanched slightly and hurried out the door.

"You look like someone murdered your cat," Hootch called to him, amusement in her hazel eyes. "Don't tell me you had evening plans, Severus?"

He scowled at her too. "I'd tell you to fall off your broom but then I would be stuck refereeing the damned Quidditch matches," he snapped at her. If he was touchy, it was because he had been looking forward to spending the time with Hermione.

He swept through the corridors, eager to escape to the outside of the castle. He would patrol the perimeter, ensuring that all the defenses were solid, before returning the castle. The curfew for first and second year students was 8 pm, third and fourth years had to be in their dormitories by 9 pm, and fifth, sixth, and seventh years were expected to have left the Library and corridors by 10. Prefects were allowed more discretion, and had their own patrols. His meeting had ended at a quarter to eight, so it was far too early to start patrolling for the younger years.

Tapping his watch, he sent a message to Hermione that he would be later than he had estimated. Internally, he fumed. The duties of a professor had become more and more onerous to him with each passing year. Even with warming spells, the October air was biting and he hurried through his assessment of the outer wards, more of a formality than anything else. The Hogwarts wards were old and many layered, and for each weakness in an individual casting there were another dozen others that were stronger.

Once back in the castle, Severus stalked through the halls. The black look on his face was enough to encourage students to scurry to their dorms, regardless of the time. He docked points from three first years who were last leaving the library, gave dire warnings to a third year who looked lost in their Transfiguration homework, and began a systematic sweep of the various broom cupboards and secluded niches where amorous couples from different houses would try to sneak snogs before curfew.

With malicious delight, he found a Hufflepuff fifth year and a Ravenclaw sixth year hidden in a little niche hidden by a tapestry on the sixth floor. A favorite of many couples, it had just enough space for two people to sit. In the midst of his lecture, he noticed a shimmer in the air against a patch of wall. He narrowed his eyes, but finished his sentence abruptly.

"Thirty points from each of your houses," he said, firmly not glancing at the patch of air. At the surly cut of the boy's mouth, he added silkily, "And a detention for insolence. To be served with Filch – I don't have the time to discipline randy teenagers. Back to your Common Rooms." The couple almost ran away, cheeks red with shame or anger he didn't know.

The shimmery patch of air moved, and the skin on the back of his neck prickled as a woman's light voice said, "You're in quite the mood, my love." The tapestry twitched, then fell back again.

Checking the corridor quickly, Severus slipped behind the tapestry, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the wall. "Blame it on Slughorn," he said, raising his wand to cast a spell to hide the sound of their voices, and another that would discourage any other young couples from wanting to come near their niche.

Hermione flickered into view and put a hand on his arm, smiling up at him happily. She was wearing different clothes than she had when he had left her in the hidden dungeon room, and her hair was now in a tight braid. She looked tired but pleased to see him. He felt the bad mood dissipate and bent to press a kiss to the top of her head.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Is everything alright?" He noticed her brief hesitation before she nodded, and a tight fist clamped in his gut. "What is it?"

"Nothing, really," she said, reaching for his hand. "I wanted to see you. And – um –" she hesitated again, and hugged him, pressing her face to his chest.

Startled, he returned her embrace. "You're coming from the future, aren't you?" he asked. He felt unsettled at the thought. "Are you sure everything is alright?"

Hermione nodded against his chest. "Yes, yes. Nothing with Harry or the Dark Lord, or anything. It's just… " She looked up at him, brown eyes wide. "You're going to tell me a lot – a lot of things tonight."

"And you felt the need to travel through time to tell me about it?" Severus said slowly, confused. "Hermione – "

"I felt the need to travel through time and tell you it will be okay," Hermione interrupted, pulling away to look at him. "And to tell you I love you. And…" she trailed off, smiling ruefully at him. "And because you told me I would come to you, so I kind of have to at this point."

Severus stared at her dumbfounded for a moment. "Which doesn't sound like something I would do. But I supposed now that you've told me that I told you…. I have to tell you."

They broke into sudden laughter, holding each other. Hermione's heart soared at the sound of his deep baritone laugh, even knowing that it was only the absurdity of the situation that had brought it out of her usually taciturn Potions Master.

Severus shook his head, disbelief still running through his mind. "How uncanny," he said. "Time is such an odd, looping thing."

"Tell me about it," she said wryly, running a hand over her braid. "I sometimes wonder how many of me are running around at one time." She held up a hand, ticking off fingers as she spoke. "There is me, in what I consider my now. There is the me that is waiting for you back in your quarters, who to me is almost a day ago, because after we go to sleep and wake up in the morning, I'll work a full day, then come see you. I'm off to my quarters, and then I'll spin back one more time, so there is a future me wandering around as well."

"Merlin, Hermione," Severus said, sliding to the ground and leaning against the wall, a small crease forming in his brow. "I wonder if I tried to find your magical signature what I would see on the wards. I wonder what this does to your magic as well – if three iterations of you tried to cast spells all at the same point at the same time…"

Hermione settled into the niche with him, linking her hand with his. "Harry did that for the Patronus," she murmured. "It worked for him – the first time around he couldn't cast the spell, but the second time around he wasn't afraid because he knew her survived. Another strange time warp."

"I wonder if in that moment, the Dark Lord had more Horcuxes," Severus said slowly. "Because there were two Potters, were there two Horcuxes?"

Something clicked behind Hermione's eyes, a switch from lover to analyst. "I don't think Harry would have two souls at that point in time," she said slowly. "I mean – I don't think my soul is spread between three bodies right now."

"What happens to the soul with Time Turner use?" wondered Severus out loud. "If you were to be kissed by a Dementor on your first turn around, you would not be able to use the Time Turner to go into the future in the first place – no magic for it to adhere to. And then if you were to be kissed on the second turn around, then the first version of yourself wouldn't be affected."

Hermione shook her head. "Time remains linear for me, even as it appears to loop back for you," she said firmly. "If I was hurt here and now, bruises wouldn't appear on my past self. So, my soul remains with me, remains linear."

"So your soul travels with you when you travel through time," Severus said slowly. "How does the Time Turner even work, anyway?"

"I don't even know," Hermione admitted. She shifted, her teeth beginning to nibble at her bottom lip. "I mean, the official Ministry line is that there is an Hour Reversal spell, but that's, to put it finely, complete horse shit. I would only be able to go back five hours max, and I regularly do more than five hours – usually twelve max. I had originally imagined it being something like the temporal version of a tesseract, in which the magic of the Time Turner opens up a slit in the time space between time and place, and shoves me through it. But I've noticed that when I use the Time Turner, I stay in place and time moves around me. I feel like I'm being physically pushed backward in time." She frowned, and picked up the end of her braid, worrying at the hair. "I feel a weightless sensation, sometimes, much like the feeling when I wandlessly lift my magic inside myself."

Severus gently pulled her lower lip away from her teeth as she continued to chew. "I wonder if your magic has something to do with it," he questioned. "If it does, in fact, lift, and if creates a barrier that keeps your soul and your mind intact and separate from other versions of yourself."

"I have no idea," Hermione said wearily. "I could ask Dumbledore if he knows. All I know is that I compress three days into one and I still feel like I never have enough time."

Severus rubbed at his temples. "So you put a year into four months. How does this not drive you insane?"

She gave him a weak laugh. "And you're the one with the headache?" she teased. "No, for me usually I only do a year in six months. I have no idea how old I am now – somewhere past twenty, for sure." Eyes closed, she leaned against the stone wall, her mind wandering back to Vivian Foxfield… and the she bolted straight up and gasped.

The sudden movement caused Severus to startle, wand in his hand almost instantaneously as he came the balls of his feet. Heart pounding, he snapped, "What the hell, Hermione?"

Eyes wide, Hermione stared at him. "I think – I think – um – this, this could really be what we need. This could be it." Her hands started to flutter around her, trying to undo the clasp to her bookbag and failing.

Severus leaned close, grabbed her hands, and took a calming breath. "Breathe, Hermione," he ordered. "Tell me what you're thinking. Organize your thoughts."

With a visible effort, Hermione pulled in several calming breaths, thinking hard and practically thrumming against his hands. Severus felt a curl of apprehension in his stomach.

"It has to do with time, and the time turner," she said finally. "That and soul bonds. But – but it only came together tonight. I can't tell you yet. You need to go back to your quarters and we are going to have a conversation that is complicated but important and then I'm going to figure it out. But I can't tell you yet – I don't think so, at least. I need to think about it."

Severus stared at her in disbelief. "So you're telling me that you think you've figured out how to save the Wizarding World, but you can't tell me because we haven't had a conversation that takes place in my future and your past?"

She leaned in and kissed him quickly, apologetically. "I'm afraid so, my love. But –" and here she flashed him a brilliant, excited grin – " I think I have it. Or – at least I have the foundation."

"This bloody complicated, you know," Severus groused. "So I'm going to go speak to you – past you – and when will you come and tell me what you know?"

Hermione was already standing to leave, her mind a million miles away. "Tomorrow," she promised, unable to keep a smile off of her face. "Tomorrow."

Severus rose to his feet as well, reaching out a hand for her. He gently turned her face toward his own, and bent down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. Even distracted, Hermione melted into him, answering his kiss eagerly. She was warm and smelled like she always did when returning from the Prefects Bath. When he slid his hand around the back of her head, he could feel the fragile cradle of her skull and the hair still damp from the bath. When he finally pulled away, he couldn't help but stroke the side of her face.

"I can't wait for a time when a day for you is also one day for me," he said softly. "I think of the – the joy I feel knowing that I will sleep with you in my bed tonight and tomorrow and from waking up with you this morning, and I wish you could feel the same."

In a moment, the youthful face before him grew tired. "I wish that too, Severus," she said quietly. "I'm so – so tired."

The wave of protective fire that spread through him did not surprise Severus, but it did make him hold her tighter in his arms. "Hurry back to me."

She reached up and kissed him again once, gently. "Hurry to me," she replied. "You'll see me in a moment."

Stifling a yawn, Hermione leaned back against the sofa, and regarded the notes that were spread around her on the floor of Severus' living room. It was late – he had been due from the staff meeting more than an hour ago, and the message he had sent over the watch had only said I will be late. She figured that something would have held him – an emergency with the Slytherins, or miscreants in the halls – and she wasn't too concerned. She had used the time to draw up a schedule for herself for the next two weeks, with routes through the castle, locations for her Time Turner use, and room occupancies organized.

With that complete, she turned to the slim red volume she had pulled from the library shelves earlier. Long nights of reading Order reports and textbooks and the occasional novel for fun meant that when turning to the written word, the sleepiness slid off her like a sheet of rain. She was hungry for the knowledge, fueled by fear and hope and love.

Soul bonds, it turned out, were tricky things. It was surprising that so many of Vivian's paramours had agreed to the terms of the bond. It had to take place on a full moon in nature, for one – not the typical high society gathering place. Both parties had to enter into the agreement of their own free will, as it would not take if there was coercion involved – one theory, the book posited, why the infamous Lady of Foxfield's bonds had obviously not been real.

The bonding ceremony was, in and of itself, not supremely complicated. It, like many soul rituals, involved blood and vows, as well as a sufficiently powerful castor. Physical proximity was necessary as well for the first few weeks after the bonding, proximity that would anchor the bond to the couple. And then, they were free to go about every day life.

The reasons marriage bonds were so dangerous, however, was that the two souls became linked. The death of one party would result in the swift death of the other, in every case other than that of the Lady of Foxfield. The souls were linked – if one went to the great beyond, the other was taken there as well. Infidelity was not an issue – having sex with another party would not harm either bondee – but neither would be able to procreate with another person, which is why it had been favored by pureblood families in the past. All of the potential for life was contained within the bond.

At the sound of the door opening, Hermione's wand was in her hand in a moment, lowering as she saw Severus. She smiled happily at him, glad to see he wasn't in the dour state she would have expected if he had been called to deal with troublemakers. Instead, he looked – well, puzzled wasn't ever a word that could be applied to Severus, but the deep unsettlement hidden in the lines his face was close enough.

"Is everything alright, love?" she asked, rising to greet him. "You seem like you've had something of a surprise."

He looked at her sharply. "I have," he said frowning. "You and I just had a chat in the little niche on the sixth floor."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, grinning. "A chat or a snog?" She made a mental note to be on the sixth floor on her next turn around.

Here, at least, he gave her a crooked half smile. "More of a chat than a snog, unfortunately," he said. Reaching out, he beckoned at her, and when she came to him, he folded her into his arms. Hermione, confused, hugged him tightly. The part of her that reveled in his presence relaxed into happiness, but another part of her kept a thread of wariness. Her fingers itched for her wand.

"A good chat, I hope?" Hermione asked cautiously. "Is everything ok?"

She couldn't see his face, as her own was pressed into his chest, but she could feel him nod. "All is well," he said, rather cryptically.

Still confused, she pulled away from his chest, then stretched up on her tip toes to kiss him quickly. "If all is well, then, would you like a cup of tea?"

He accepted gratefully, and she went to the little kitchenette to start the kettle while Severus excused himself for a quick shower. His little kitchenette had two burners, one of which held a serviceable but old kettle. While the water boiled, she fetched the black lacy teapot that had been passed down from his mother. Carefully, she spooned the blend Severus made for himself into the pot, noting that the large jar was nearly empty. He hadn't had time to blend his own tea, recently. It seemed that each of their days was running out of usable time, despite the Time Turner at her disposal.

By the time the water had boiled and the tea had steeped, Severus returned from his shower. His hair was wet and pulled back, leaving his face uncommonly exposed to her eyes. She normally only saw him so clearly when he was brewing. It still gave Hermione a jolt to the belly to see her lover like this, warm and clean-smelling, dressed his 'home' clothes. It still surprised her every time she saw Severus in something colorful – if a sweater so green it was almost black could be called colorful. He wore black pajama pants, and his feet were bare.

Hermione observed him as she poured out the tea. His face would have been inscrutable to most, but she had been given years to study this man closely. He was trying – and failing – to calm himself, nostrils flaring as he breathed in deeply. His brow was furrowed slightly, his shoulders drawn together. Frowning herself, Hermione cupped his cheek in one hand, turning his gaze toward her.

"What is it, Severus?" she asked, stroking his cheek with a thumb. He had showered but he hadn't shaved, and the movement made a rasping sound.

He caught her hand and kissed it quickly. "I – I've had something to tell you, and I've been avoiding it," he said deliberately. There was no waver in his voice, but he seemed to hunch into himself, an almost imperceptible inward folding. "It is serious. It could jeopardize my place in the Order and my place among the Death Eaters."

Her heart began to pound in her ears, and a slight thread of anger began to weave itself from her bowels to her throat. "And you've been keeping it from me?" she asked, fighting to keep the anger down.

Severus met her eyes, but she could see that he was upset with himself. Upset and guilty, it seemed. "Yes," he said simply. "Not deliberately, not at first. You were poisoned, as planned, but the recovery was more complicated than we expected. And then – there were other things to take care of."

"Things more important than something that could jeopardize your place as a double agent and spy?" Hermione asked incredulously. She fought the urge to begin chewing on her lip.

"No," Severus said, still meeting her own eyes. "Not more important." He sighed, looking away at last, and rubbed his temples. "Hermione, my Patronus has changed."

She could see that this was supposed to be revelatory for her, that this was supposed to the crest of a wave of knowledge breaking upon the shore. Instead, she stared at him, the anger still raising. "And?" she demanded. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Severus didn't flinch, but she could almost see another layer of shields sliding into place behind his eyes. "Do you know why each person's Patronus takes the shape it does?" he asked, voice still steady. "Do you know what it means when they change?"

She shook her head, her mouth a hard line.

"I didn't either," Severus said simply. "Like you I was raised mostly in the Muggle world, and when my mother did speak about magic it was … the darker elements of our craft."

Despite herself, Hermione was curious at the mention of his mother. Severus didn't often speak of his family. "And the Patronus Charm is one of the most obvious Light magics," Hermione said, unprompted. "The only known defense against Dementors, based on memories of happiness and joy, they are physical manifestations of safety and love."

Severus looked her in the eye. "And for the last twenty years – since the first time I cast a Patronus since I was sixteen – my protector was a doe."

The realization was a double punch to the gut and the chest, causing her breath to leave in a harsh gulp. Tears pricked at her eyes though they did not fall. Hermione knew that what Severus had seen in her had, at first, been the formidable speed at which she was able to draw connections, to understand motivations and linkages and emotions.

His Patronus was a doe. Hermione remembered the first time she had been close to a Patronus, when a silver stag had erupted from Harry's wand, what her friend had later confided in her felt like a physical manifestation of his father. If James Potter was the stag, Lily Potter – Lily Evans, Hermione thought savagely – had always been the doe.

Around the feeling of bile rising in her chest, Hermione only said, "Lily."

Severus nodded. "And now it's changed." He drew his wand slowly, and cast, stomach tight as he thought of Hermione, nude in the bath. "Expecto Patronum."

The silvery panther poured from his wand, poised for a fight. Its head swung as though it was sniffing the air, looking for a threat. Finding none, it stalked to Hermione, gazing at her with steady eyes, before flicking a tail and vanishing.

Taken aback, Hermione looked up at Severus. "I'm so confused," she said, suddenly feeling very, very tired. "Are you in love with her? Were you in love with her? What are you trying to tell me?"

Severus dropped his gaze, unable to meet her eyes. "Do you know the full story of why I joined the Order? Why I turned?"

"No, I don't," Hermione said, brow furrowing. "I know what you said. That you were infatuated with Lily, that you wanted to protect her son and because you knew it was the right thing to do. What the hell does this have to do with your Patronus? Severus, you need to talk to me because I'm about one more cryptic statement away from going to Dumbledore and demanding an answer myself." Her voice had risen as she spoke, and to her surprise, Severus shrunk further in on himself.

It was unlike him, this strong man, this man made of stone and fury and ice to be so – so – in a moment it came to her. It was unlike him to be so ashamed.

Standing, Hermione went to him, kneeling at his feet and putting a hand to his cheek. She didn't force him to look at her, but stroked his skin gently. "You can tell me," she said quietly. "But if you are going to do this, you need to do it now."

"You may hate me," he croaked. "The only thing getting me through this is that you came to me to tell me it will be alright."

Hermione leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "That was your last cryptic statement, Severus," she said firmly. "What. Aren't. You. Telling. Me."

He breathed out. "I was the one who gave the Dark Lord enough of the prophecy to target Harry Potter," Severus said, eyes closed. "I am the reason that his parents were killed and why he has a Horcrux in his head."

And so ends Chapter 62!

A bit of a cliffhanger, no? Don't worry - I hope to update soon! To help with that... I now have a Ko-fi (link is in my profile)! In other news, I've been sharing this story on AO3 as well, and someone there suggested I make on. I have made a deal with myself to spend 15 minutes writing (on this specific story) for every coffee someone gets me, and it has helped me be MUCH more productive! I've also finally figured out how this story will end - which is so exciting! We have a ways to go yet. However, my Office365 has decided it no longer wants to do an autosave every minute like I want it to and I lost three different drafts of the next three chapters, which was hearbreaking. I was literally ready to update in March, and I lost everything and was so mad I couldn't touch this story again until recently.

Life news! It's been a while, and I know you all like hearing about my life (considering you've been following it since I was like... 15 ... and I'll be 24 soon!). LIFE WORKED OUT! My lovely girlfriend (the roommate of all those updates ago...) got into a wonderful program close to my top choice, so we recently moved to a new state together! It's been 4 1/2 years now, and I love her so much! (You all should love her too, she bugs me to write all the time). COVID has been crazy - I was still going out and seeing clients in the madness and it is a miracle I didn't get it given the nonexistent PPE and my clients (all severely mentally ill and homeless) who weren't quite able to understand social distancing. I left my job (it wasn't safe and we needed to move) so I'm currently not working - which is weird. UGH why am I an ADULT why is MONEY a thing! Not a fan. I've also not been super well recently - I've had some pretty severe allergic reactions (and can't afford an allergist - yay!) and my breathing has not been great, so I'm pretty stressed about COVID. My darling girl and I both have chronic breathing stuff, so we are bunkering down. So life is weird, I don't quite like being a grown up, but at least I get to do it with the person I love.

I am so looking forward to all of your lovely reviews! Please let me know what you think and how you are doing. I'm also taking prompts for short SSHG stories! Kofis are appreciated and I hope to update again soon.