The drought was the very worst.

Hermione drug her knees up to her chest slowly and wrapped her shaking arms around them. No tears would come, not anymore. She'd cried out everything she possibly could've in the dark dungeons of Hogwarts. She had nowhere else to go, nowhere else as quiet. She'd returned for her final year, eager to get the best grades she could to get a good position in the Ministry. She didn't want it handed to her because she was a part of the Golden Trio.

When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst.

She wasn't expecting the words to leave his lips, nor did she know why. She tried to tell herself that she didn't care, that it wasn't important why, just that it happened. Mudblood. Her arm, now scarred, burned and she pulled up her grey sweater sleeve to look at it. Ronald Weasley had actually called her a mudblood. Her Ronald Weasley, or at least what was hers.

You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore.

Hermione could feel him still, grabbing her arm, begging her to stay. Saying he was sorry, repeatedly. How could she forgive that? How could she shrug it off like it never happened, like the Pureblood wizard he is didn't somehow go to his head. The Prophet articles hailing him a hero when he'd done almost nothing besides listen to that god damned radio while her and Harry hunted. How he ran, maybe out of the effects of the Horcrux but maybe that had already been his plan all along. His face returning like he'd done nothing, hurt nobody, and was just gone to get some food at the store.

"Ms. Granger what on earth are you doing in the Dungeons. Don't tell me you think you can loiter wherever you see fit," a deep, stone voice came from behind her. The words stung, more than they ever had from him before, and her tears started again. He froze, not expecting this, and looked down at the girl with great concern that he'd deny til the day he died.

"Not you, not now. I've had enough of the 'insufferable know-it-all's and the glaring looks the last 6 years. No more, please," she begged, nearly inaudibly. If he wasn't a spy he wouldn't have heard her. He slowly stepped in front of her, crouching down slightly. He looked at the mark on her arm, still visible, and grimaced. That word would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Did someone hurt you?" he asked, voice almost unrecognizable too Hermione. So much so that her head popped up and met his eyes. He pushed inside her mind to be quickly confronted with the scene that had played out just hours ago.

"Hey, Weasel. Blew up another potion in Snape's class today, yeah? How stupid you must be to mess up a simple first year review potion."
"Yeah, is it true you actually helped Potter and Granger? Or did you just hold them down?"

Hermione glared at the boys, noticing the green ties and immediately recalling them from the back of Potions class earlier that morning. Sniggering the entire time, and Professor Snape had done nothing until someone from Gryffindor shushed them.

"Stop it, seriously. How immature-"
"I can handle this myself you stupid Mudblood. I'm not spineless like you!" Ron yelled, his fury peaking. The Gryffindor table quickly went silent, hell, the whole Hall did. Most everyone was done with dinner, including the Professors, so the hall was virtually empty. Everyone froze, minutes seemed to pass, then years, then centuries.
"Hermione oh my god I'm so sorry!" Ron yells, and Hermione pushes past him. "No! Don't you dare leave! Let me explain!"

She yanked her arm back from his vice-like grip and took off, straight to the only place she knows no one else will go - the cold, wet dungeon. She sits down when she gets there, lips and fingers tingling from sobbing so hard. She gasps for air repeatedly.

The water filled my lungs, I screamed so loud but no one heard a thing.

When he pulls out of her mind, she's sobbing again, but no tears come out. She's shaking violently, he recognizes the shock symptoms before she does. He conjures a thick wool blanket and wraps it around her. He helps her up and into his class, then into his private chambers, where he sets her down on the couch. He rushes over to his personal store of potions and grabs a calming drought and pushes it into her shaking hand. She looks up at him, and he recognizes the broken-hearted look as the same one Lily wore for so long. He cringes, barely masking it, as Hermione downs the potion. She immediately slumps back against the couch, breathing returning to normal. He then hands her a dreamless sleep, and once she's out he calls Minerva.

"You're going to want to see this, it has to do with your lions."

And by morning, gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean.

She awakes in the morning in the hospital wing, just as Ronald Weasley opens a Howler in the Great Hall mid-breakfast. Everyone knows that he's done, even Harry Potter, who drops him instantly and rushes to Hermione. She feels safe as he lays with her, arms wrapped around her. This was how it was meant to be.

And Severus Snape sneers at the irony, which isn't lost to him at all thank-you-very-much.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! This isn't my first fan fiction, but it is my first in a while. Please review! I also have thought about making a spin-off series of this? Where you'd see Molly's reaction to hearing what her son did and how classes go etc? Does that sound like something you'd wanna see?