Disclaimer: Even years later, I still borrow them and play with them occasionally

Author's Note: This is another missing scene from Deathly Hallows, following on from my previous story, In Your Memories. This fic can stand alone (mostly), but I would encourage you to read the other one first.

Many thanks to my awesome beta, labrt2004, whose enthusiasm for this story (and mine for hers, Irisdiscent Snow) has drawn me back into the fandom

Hermione woke in the darkness and cold of the Forest of Dean, shivering even wrapped in her cloak.

She listened for a moment but heard no sound of Harry in the tent. Sitting up, she blinked in the dull light from the bluebell flames in the nearby jar, revealing the empty sleeping bag next to her own. Harry's boots and cloak were gone, too.

It wasn't the first time he had disappeared in the middle of the night. Hermione had sat up for hours one night, almost beside herself with worry, only to have him return just before dawn without any explanation at all. She sighed, wondering how long he would be gone this time. Exhausted as she was these days, she wouldn't be able to sleep now until he returned.

She rubbed her eyes tiredly, the silence of empty forest outside looming like an ever-present beast; Even when they had been a trio, Hermione sometimes found herself almost overwhelmed by a sense of isolation and despair she couldn't explain, and Ron's departure almost two months ago had made the separation from her family and most of her friends even harder to bear. Tonight, the pang of loneliness was almost a physical pain. How much longer would they be forced to live like this?

A sound came from outside… snow crunching under boots… or was it feet or paws?

"Harry?" she called softly.

The noise ceased abruptly, and a twinge of unease grew in Hermione. Without a word, she extinguished the flames, plunging the tent into complete darkness.

Cautiously, her wand at the ready, she crept forwards on her hands and knees to the opening of the tent, meaning to peer through the narrow slit to the forest outside. Even in the darkness, perhaps she might make out the shape of an animal against the bright snow.

Suddenly, a hand reached through the opening and grabbed the front of her cloak, pulling her bodily out into the open. Her wand was snatched from her grasp and a hand clamped over her mouth. Uttering a muffled scream, she fought her attacker, and they went down together, a plume of snowflakes flying up about them.

Somehow, she managed to punch one hand backwards wildly, her fist connecting with some part of her attacker's face. He – it was definitely a man – grunted and pushed her sideways until he was on top of her, his knees pinning her legs and his hands holding her arms down in a bruising grip.

For the first time, in the light reflected by the luminescent snow, she saw her attacker.

Snape.

Terror renewed, she opened her mouth to scream only to find herself suddenly unable to struggle or make a sound. Her eyes could move - darting back and forth, desperately seeking a way out of her predicament – but she was otherwise paralysed.

Snape withdrew then, climbing off her and kneeling in the snow at her side. His wand was nowhere to be seen, and Hermione was reminded what this powerful wizard was capable of. She was in serious trouble.

His hair was longer than she had ever seen it, hanging about his face and spilling over his shoulders, and he was unshaven, a few days' worth of stubble darkening his jaw. He looked terrible; deep circles under his eyes melded into a fading bruise down one side of his face. Hermione felt a savage pleasure at his dishevelled appearance. Let him suffer for what he had done to Harry and to Dumbledore.

Perhaps her malice showed in her eyes, for at that moment he did take out his wand, pointing it directly at her face. He didn't utter a sound, but a ripple of magic passed over Hermione, and she felt a sudden, odd pain in her head.

As she stared, disoriented, at the man before her, she was hit with a barrage of memories… a torn photograph, a pair of dark, haunted eyes, the softest of kisses, and finally, an image of him standing in the doorway of Sirius' room at Grimmauld Place, wand raised, a look of pure despair on his face.

Hermione found herself free of the paralysing spell and sat up. He was watching her carefully, waiting.

The tears in her eyes, only seconds ago tears of absolute terror, spilled down her cheeks, and she whispered his name on a shallow breath, barely daring to speak it aloud in case the sound awoke her from this dream and he vanished.

"Severus?"

He favoured her with the smallest of smiles, and it was all the confirmation she needed. She launched herself at him, knocking him back into the snow as she embraced him.

"I remember!" she exclaimed, burying her face against the warmth of his chest. The fur lining of his cloak tickled her nose and she could hear his heart pounding close to her ear. His arms came around her back, holding her against him.

"Hermione," he whispered into her hair.

She pulled back reluctantly after a blissful minute of silence, but only so far as to prop herself up on one elbow, wipe her eyes and look at him – really look at him – for the first time, realising how much he had changed in the months since their last encounter.

"What's happened to you?" she murmured, taking his face in her hands. "You're a mess."

She traced his prickly jawline, and his eyes slipped closed, his skin icy beneath her fingertips. She moved further up his face, tracing the dark stain of the bruise. As she brushed a feather-light touch over his forehead, his nose and finally, ever so hesitantly, his lips, she felt him trembling.

"What are you doing?" he whispered roughly. "Memorising me by touch?"

"No," she replied sadly. "Because I know you'll have to take the memory from me anyway."

He opened his eyes then, gazing down at her regretfully.

"Believe me, Hermione, I wish it wasn't so."

"I know you do." She sat up, allowing him to do the same, and listened for signs of her friend returning from his trek through the snowy woods. "How long do we have?"

"A little while. It will take Potter some time to retrieve what he seeks out there."

"Another Horcrux?" she asked hopefully.

"Not quite, but useful to destroy one." He pushed one hand back through his hair as he spoke, dislodging the snowflakes that had clung to the black strands. Hermione shivered; they were both still sitting in the snow where she had knocked Severus down with her fierce hug. No wonder she was freezing.

"Come inside," she said, getting to her feet and motioning for him to follow her into the tent.

He hesitated, glancing about the dark forest again.

"It's all right," she insisted. "We'll hear Harry returning, and you can Apparate from inside if you have to."

He followed her then, crouching down to enter the tent as Hermione conjured a new ball of bluebell flames, this time one that could be held without burning the holder. Its warmth spread to her hands instantly, and she held it out towards Severus.

When he reached for it, instead of just passing the flaming orb, she transferred it into his cupped hands and took hold of his wrists, pulling him down to sit face to face with her. Even when they were both seated, Hermione didn't let go of him – who knew when she would see him again? She let her hands slide back to his, intertwining their fingers to share the warmth of the flame.

"How are you holding up?" she enquired softly.

He averted his eyes, but not before Hermione saw a flash of something… pain, despair, fear…

"Severus?"

"I could be worse," he said with a brief, dark chuckle, glancing about the tent. "I have a roof over my head and a comfortable, warm place to sleep."

But Hermione wasn't fooled by his poor attempt at humour, and when he looked at her again, she held his gaze until he exhaled a shaky breath.

"Sitting in that office day after day…" he trailed off, raising a hand to rub his eyes tiredly. "It's difficult enough to be at Hogwarts, to play my part so completely now in front of the students. And Minerva, she'll never forgive me for what I've done. But when I'm in that office…"

"Does he speak to you?" she whispered. "His portrait?"

"Constantly." The end of the word was muffled as he dropped the bluebell flames and buried his face in his hands.

Torn, Hermione reached out for him, resting her hands on his shoulders; they were trembling beneath her touch, and when Severus raised his eyes to meet hers again, they were bright and despairing. Her heart clenched painfully, realising just how close to breaking point he was.

What could she possibly do for him in the short time they had together this night?

"I cannot do this anymore, Hermione," he finally said, his voice breaking. "I can't keep playing this game. I don't want to keep playing."

"I know," she said softly. "But we're so close to the end now, can't you feel it?"

He shook his head.

"Every day just gets that little bit harder. I dare not look to the end, not any kind of end that will fare me well, at least."

She felt helpless. "I can't imagine how hard it's been for you. And to be at Hogwarts, I– I don't know how you've managed… but will you tell me a little of what's been happening there, if you think you can?"

He spoke hesitantly at first, but with her encouragement the words came more easily, and soon the stories were pouring out. He told her how different the atmosphere was at Hogwarts this year; students and teachers alike walked the corridors with fear… fear of him, and of the other Death Eaters he had been forced to appoint to teaching positions.

He told Hermione his account of Ginny, Luna and Neville's brave attempt to steal the sword of Gryffindor from his office. Hermione was relieved to find their punishment had been no more than a night in the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid, despite the Carrows hassling Severus to oversee the detention themselves. Hermione shuddered at the thought of what that might have entailed.

Many of the seventh year Slytherins, and a handful from other houses, had taken it upon themselves to overthrow the authority of the prefects and Head Boy and Girl. They reigned the corridors, handing out hexes and punishments indiscriminately. Watched closely by the Carrows and the children of many Death Eaters, Snape could do little but allow them to act as they pleased. And on the other side, from what Snape could tell, Ginny was the leader of another group of students determined to make life as difficult as possible for him, the Carrows and anyone else displaying open loyalty to Voldemort.

Hermione could hear the frustration in his voice at what was happening within the walls of Hogwarts.

"We're not only driving young witches and wizards away, threatening the magical education of our very future… it's the insult to Albus' memory that hurts the most. He did so much for that school, and to see it fall apart so quickly now… I promised to do everything in my power to protect the students, and look how I've failed."

"No, you haven't failed," Hermione said. "What else can you do but go along with every awful thing the others come up with? The students of Hogwarts are far safer for your presence than they would be without. Imagine if the Carrows were in charge! There wouldn't be a even a half-blood left in the school, let alone any Muggleborns!"

"You're right," he sighed. "I just look around the school now and see how much has changed. I suppose there's no going back to the way things were."

Hermione murmured a soft sound of agreement. So much had changed. A year ago, dark as the future had seemed at that time, would she ever have imagined she would be missing her final year of school and gallivanting around the country seeking the hidden pieces of Voldemort's soul?

Silence fell between them, and Severus reached his hands out to pick up the orb of the warming charm again. The flames threw their strange blue light on his face, accentuating how worn he looked.

"How did you come by this?" She reached out, lightly touching the fading bruise down the side of his face.

The corners of his lips twisted up briefly as he replied, "A slight disagreement with another Death Eater, although I'm pleased to say he came off rather worse than I this time around."

Hermione tilted her head questioningly, and he elaborated.

"Lucius Malfoy. Ever since… since that night on the Astronomy Tower, he has been furious that I – how did he phrase it – oh, yes, stole his son's glory. Oddly, it's Lucius, not Draco, who is livid about it, and he wastes no opportunity to remind me of his displeasure when the Dark Lord is not present."

"I'm glad to hear you got the better of him then," Hermione said. "God, I'd give anything to see Lucius Malfoy put back in his place!"

"He has certainly had his comeuppance these past few months," Severus agreed. "Though behind the Dark Lord's back he still attempts to lord it over the other Death Eaters. Most tolerate it and satisfy themselves with the knowledge he is nothing in the Dark Lord's eyes, but I find my contempt for him compels me to act."

"Does Vol– sorry, does he know what Malfoy is doing?"

"Doubtlessly. But the petty disputes among his followers are of little concern. Our loyalty to him, not each other, is what he requires. A higher place in his rankings is gained not through subterfuge and trickery, but by executing his will without question or hesitation."

Guessing to what he was referring, Hermione murmured, "At least with your higher position now you know more of what he's planning."

"Even powerless as I am to stop most of it," he said bitterly.

She made to protest, but he shook his head.

"But come, what of you?" he said, suddenly changing the subject. "Can you tell me anything of what you've been doing that I wouldn't already know through Phineas?"

"Phineas?" Hermione looked startled. "But I hid his portrait in my bag so you couldn't spy on us at Grimmauld Place!"

Severus laughed softly.

"And in doing so you've been carrying him around with you all these months. Every time you open your bag, he can hear your conversations and tells me where you are. Did you not wonder how I've been able to find you when you've kept yourselves so well concealed?"

Hermione was speechless.

"Thanks to your taking Phineas with you, he and Albus are constantly plotting ways I might assist Potter, lead the Death Eaters astray when they come too close and so on. They hardly leave me a moment's peace, but I can't deny I'm grateful for the information they bring."

She shook her head, bemused and yet eternally thankful Snape was on their side. If the occupant of the Headmaster's Office had been loyal to Voldemort, Phineas would have given them away in a brushstroke.

"I don't suppose you know what happened to us these last few days, unless you've heard from- from You-Know-Who… I didn't open my bag at Godric's Hollow at all."

Snape's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"You had a run-in with Death Eaters?" he asked sharply. "I wasn't aware of any activities, so to speak, over Christmas."

"Not Death Eaters."

She explained the circumstances that had led them to their Christmas Eve expedition. Snape made an odd sound when she mentioned visiting the Potters' graves, a brief flash of pain crossing his features, and when she explained what had happened in the house with Bathilda and Nagini, his pale face turned almost completely white.

"I hardly know how we managed to get away, and I was terrified they would track us down, what with Harry screaming at the top of his lungs one minute and channelling Voldemort in Parseltongue the next."

"And Potter was bitten?" Snape enquired urgently. "How did you heal him?"

"Essence of Dittany," she replied, fishing the small bottle out of her bag and handing it to him. Snape turned it over in his fingers, watching the oozing liquid follow the equilibrium of the bottle.

"It was well you had this. Nagini's venom is slow-acting but terribly potent."

He passed it back and she returned it to her bag; on impulse, she checked Phineas' portrait, but it was blank.

"He'll be listening, no doubt," Snape said wryly. "And reporting back to Albus."

"Do you tell them what happens when you do come out here to find us?" she asked.

"Did I tell them about you, is that what you're asking?"

She smiled. "In a roundabout way, I suppose."

He shifted slightly before answering, stretching his legs out to one side, looking falsely comfortable.

"There is little I don't tell Albus about, actually. There are few others who will listen when I feel the rare need to talk." He paused, tilting his head forwards a little as he continued so his hair obscured his expression. "He knows about our last meeting at Grimmauld Place, and no doubt he will hear about this; he knows I came to the Forest tonight to bring Potter the sword. I think he suspected I would seek you out if the chance arose, even if it is only for these few stolen moments."

"I'll take what little time we can have, until this is all over," she said softly, raising one hand to his face and pushing his hair aside.

As she tucked it behind his ear, he turned his face, leaning in to her touch.

"Until it's over…" he echoed.

Hermione stared into his dark eyes, willing him to close the distance between them. He leant towards her, but then seemed to shake himself as if returning to reality and pulled away.

"I should be departing," he said. "Potter will be returning soon."

He stood, offering his hand to help her up. Disappointed and suddenly fearful of what was to come, she accepted, but didn't release his hand once she was on her feet.

"I don't think it's appropriate to offer you belated Christmas wishes," he added after a moment of silence. "But perhaps you might permit me to wish you a happier New Year?"

He offered her a wan smile, but she found herself unable to return it.

"I wish that, too, but you're going to take my memories again, aren't you?" she whispered, knowing the answer even as she spoke, but clinging to the faintest glimmer of hope that he may have found another way.

He closed his eyes momentarily, grimacing.

"I have no choice."

She nodded sadly, dropping his hand; he would not – could not - change his mind. It was for his protection as much as hers. If she were caught, she could be forced reveal his true allegiance under torture; she would not take the risk.

"Wait," she said as he raised his wand. "When will I see you again?"

"I…" He looked away. "I don't think you will see me again, Hermione."

Her eyes filled with tears again, and she shook her head angrily.

"Don't say that. I have to see you again. I need to see you again."

Severus smiled bitterly. "You won't even remember who I really am."

"You're wrong," she said, wiping at her eyes furiously as the tears spilled over. "Ever since we spoke at Grimmauld Place, I've had this odd feeling in the back of my mind that something has been missing. I didn't know what it was, but the feeling was always there. It's only since you've been here tonight that it's gone away."

Severus stared at her, slightly taken aback by the force of her words, and then without a sound, he stepped forwards and embraced her. It was the first time, she realised, that he had initiated such contact between them, and knowing that it might be their last made her hold onto him even more tightly.

"Even though you won't remember these stolen moments," he whispered over the top of her head, "take some comfort in that fact that I will remember you saying that… always."

Hermione couldn't speak through her tears. She clung to him as long as he would allow it, and it was only when they heard a sound outside, quite close to the tent, that he drew back.

"When the time is right, you'll remember, too," he said softly, wiping a single tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

She nodded, wanting to say so many things and unable to voice any of them.

Another sound, closer to the tent, reached their ears. Severus raised his wand, and Hermione knew no more.

Pressed for time and an escape route, Severus mixed a sleeping charm in with the memory charm, and somehow managed to catch Hermione as she collapsed in a deep slumber.

Laying her down gently on her sleeping bag, he tucked her cloak around her and covered her with blankets. He placed the ball of blue flames on the ground, close enough to keep her warm.

Wet tracks of tears were still glistening on Hermione's face, and he wiped them away carefully, savouring the last touch of her skin. It wouldn't do for her companions to see any sign of their meeting.

Severus could hear voices outside the tent now; Potter and Weasley. He would have to cast a Silencing Charm and Disapparate from where he was.

"Farewell, Hermione," he murmured.

He stood, and with a final glance at her prone form, vanished.

~ fin ~