Instead of going back to her tower, as she had said, Asher went walking on the grounds. She passed the herbology greenhouses, then Hagrid's hut, and skirted the edges of the forest, listening to the night calls of the creatures who lived there. She finally settled, cross-legged, at the lake, watching the giant squid dance its tentacles in the moonlight.

This was how Hermione found her, and she paused some distance away, taking in the small figure staring out at the water. As she watched, Asher's head bowed, and she could see her shoulders shaking. Slowly, she walked to meet her.

Asher heard the steps and assumed it was Minerva. "I just needed not to think," she said as the footfalls stopped a meter or so behind her.

"I imagine so," came a voice that did not belong to the headmistress.

Slowly, Asher turned her head and saw Hermione. For a moment, the emptiness inside broke and gave way, but she warned herself not to get hopeful and turned back to the water. "How did you know I was here?"

"A little birdie told me," Hermione said with a half-smile. She moved up farther and sat next to the Potions professor, pulling her cloak close against the chilled air. She caught a faint "Damn meddling bird" from the other woman's lips and inwardly chuckled. "He's worried about you. He says you haven't spoken to him since you came back."

Asher gave a bitter puff of air. "I've barely spoken to anyone. Why are you speaking to me, anyway? Don't you hate me?" She realized this wasn't the gentlest way to broach the subject, but she was clear out of gentle after what she had witnessed.

"No."

"One wouldn't know it."

"I know." Hermione took in a difficult breath. "And I'm sorry."

Asher turned and shot her a wary look, but said nothing.

"I know it's not enough," the Transfiguration professor said, her voice hushed. "I wasn't thinking straight, and I ascribed characteristics to you that, if I had been, I would have recognized as ridiculous. I bollocksed it all up, and I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."

Asher heard the truth in Hermione's voice, and had some of her own to speak. "I screwed up, too. I approached it all wrong. I even knew it at the time, but.." I was scared. "What it did to you, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that either." The words came more easily than she might have expected, but maybe that was because she'd been rehearsing them for weeks.

An awkward silence followed as they looked at each other. Asher felt torn. She wanted so badly to grab Hermione up and show her how sorry she was- somehow- but in the wake of her mother's death that feeling couldn't quite reach the surface. Hermione didn't dare touch her because of what she'd just been through, knowing how fragile she could be, not knowing what would happen.

Finally, Hermione extended a hand, palm-up, and rested it on the grass between them. There were words, important words, on her tongue, but she was afraid to say them. She saw Asher hesitate, then slowly place her hand in Hermione's.

Instantly Asher knew what the alarm in her head had been earlier- she hadn't taken her potion on her return. Her power flared at the touching of hands and she could sense Hermione intimately. She could feel the words she hadn't said- Hermione loved her. Her heart lifted, and so did her instinct to feed.

The bushy-haired woman gasped at the contact. She was transported back to her office that day when she had first discovered Asher wasn't quite what she seemed- surrounded by an aura of mystery and allure. She froze, staring helplessly at the woman who held her hand. Just like the other time, she wanted to give in to it, find out what would happen, and she now knew that it would be bad if she did so. Fear rose like bile in her throat.

Asher, formerly so confident in her new abilities, saw Hermione's aura, felt her chi, and was tempted beyond anything she'd known before. Even Esmera hadn't held such warm, delicious promise. Hermione was vibrant, full of life and magic and feeling, and Asher's experience with her mother's starvation had stirred her instinct into survival mode. Her heart pounded and the heart of herself rebelled against action even as the darkest part screamed at her to feed. She knew her gaze was hungry, knew her face was predatory, and with everything she had, she closed her eyes and shoved it away. It fought her, screeching, and she felt part of Hermione's chi seep into her with an explosion of power.

It took her breath away, and her eyes opened with the shock of it. Hermione could see that her pupils had fully dilated, and her eyes were black and depthless; fear filled her. She screamed, and so did Asher, fighting the urge to let more in. This is not who I am, she roared back at the storm in her head. I am not my mother; I am human, too. I don't need this! Using the last of her will, she clamped down on her hunger and refused to let go, feeling it dwindle inch by inch as it raged. She shut her eyes tight and raged back: No, no, no, no! She didn't know how long it took, but finally she felt it pause, then stop, and she could breathe again.

Hermione stared, wide-eyed and weak, as she felt the power lessen its hold on her. The look in Asher's eyes had not been human in those moments. Even though her head was spinning and she was frightened beyond anything she'd ever felt before, she knew the real Asher was the one who had battled that- Hermione didn't even know what to call it, except that it wasn't the woman she loved. It was her first real glimpse of Asher's reality, and she now understood just how desperate the other woman must have been to banish it from her.

Still shaken, Hermione breathed deeply, willing herself to be calm. She could see that Asher was about to run, and against her own instinct to flee, she seized and held her tightly. "I'm sorry," she said, her heart persistently pounding for her to run screaming. "I really am. I didn't know how bad it was. I'm sorry. Please don't leave."

Asher held as still as she could, aware and ashamed of the hunger still simmering inside of her, and wondering why Hermione hadn't cursed her yet. Stiffly, she said, "I have to take my potion, Hermione. I can't be around you without it." Just as she had feared.

Hermione pulled back and looked as if she was going to smack her. "Ridiculous. You didn't kill me, did you?" Her voice shook despite the stern tone.

"I could have, damnit! I could have, I-" Asher cut herself off before her nerves could make it a mantra. "You don't know how close it was."

"I don't? You've never been on the receiving end of one of those looks, I take it." Hermione shivered involuntarily. "It wasn't you, not really. It's not the you you want to be, if that makes any sense."

Asher gave a laugh that was more of a breath and said, "Actually, yeah. Minerva said something like that to me once. 'Your choices are your cure.' Quoted Dumbledore at me, too." The need in her had faded to a dull ache, and she realized that she and Hermione were still touching. Small victories.

"Look..." Hermione took her hand again. "I won't say that it doesn't scare me, because it does." You've no idea how much. "You might be right about needing the potion. I don't know. But.." She struggled a moment, then continued, "I love you. I've been lying to myself about it because it was easier than admitting I loved you and thinking you were this horrible person. But if you were, you'd have killed me just now without another thought, and that doesn't fit with who you are. If I'd really thought it through I would have realized that a lot sooner."

"I love you, too, but I think you knew that." At Hermione's nod, she went on, "I don't blame you for freaking out, really. You have PTSD, Hermione. I know you know what that is, even if most witches wouldn't. Maybe you even suspected you had it."

"I didn't want to suspect," she replied, breaking eye contact. "I didn't want to have it, either. I've kind of been ignoring it."

"I don't know how. You scream in your sleep, sometimes. Say names. You beg-" Asher couldn't finish that one. It was heartbreaking enough to hear it happen. She saw Hermione flinch and reached out, gently cupping her cheek. "It's not your fault, this reaction. You went through hell. And what I am, what just happened... is not helping."

"I could say the same thing about you, you know."

"Yeah. I guess we're both screwed up, huh?"

"Definitely." Hermione covered Asher's hand with her own and leaned in, closing her eyes for a moment. "I've really missed this."

Asher smiled. "Me, too."

They sat there for some time longer, and when they finally were too cold, they headed back to Asher's tower, tentatively holding hands. And when Asher took her potion that night, for the first time it didn't feel like a life sentence. Eventually, they'd work through it, right? They'd figure it out; she had to believe that, or she'd be afraid for the rest of her life. If Hermione could turn around and say she loved her after seeing and feeling what she was, there was a damned good chance. Someday, she'd figure out how to not almost kill the woman she loved, and maybe then she could hope for a lasting happiness.

Author's note: Good Lord, what a run. Three and a half years I've been working on this, and I'm rather proud I finished. (I am terrible about finishing things I've started.) Before you complain about the ending- which I am also a bit dissatisfied with- please know it was the best I could do without a) killing Hermione or b) adding chapters full of nothing but fluff or angst sans plot. I didn't figure either would be an edifying end. Thank you, everyone, for reading this. It was a labor of love.

P.S.- Kalex, if you're still out there, please let me know. Haven't heard from you in ages and I'm a bit worried.