Prologue

All characters belong to JKR.

Prologue

It was the summer after seventh year, and the war was at its peak. Hermione was taking her turn in the rotation and manning headquarters, along with Minerva McGonagall. Just past midnight, there was frantic knocking at the door, and Hermione rushed to admit Severus Snape and Remus Lupin with an unconscious Nymphadora Tonks supported between them.

Minerva hurried to assist them as they carried Tonks up to a first floor bedroom and placed her carefully on the bed. With a magisterial calm, Minerva examined Tonks and said, "She has been Stunned, and she hit her head when she fell. I'll sit with her until she wakes up."

Lupin reached out and touched Hermione on the shoulder. "Severus and I need to speak to you, Hermione."

Lupin led her back down to the kitchen where all of the Order members seemed to congregate at headquarters. He sat beside her and spoke to Snape, saying, "Put on the kettle, please, Severus. We could all do with a cup of tea."

Snape acquiesced without a word, reaching for the teakettle. Hermione noticed a cut on his hand and saw that both he and Lupin were the worse for wear, battered and dusty.

"What happened?" she asked.

"We had information--" Lupin glanced involuntarily at Snape, "that your family was targeted by the Death Eaters, but we didn't know when they planned to attack. Tonks and Mundungus Fletcher were keeping your parents' house under guard. Tonight, we found out the Death Eaters were on the move. Severus and I went as quickly as we could, Hermione; we got word to Moody and Shacklebolt, and they were coming too. When Severus and I got to the house, it was empty. Tonks was on the ground in the back garden, unconscious. Dung is dead."

Hermione heaved a terrific sob, and Lupin grasped her hand. Impatiently, Snape turned his back on the teakettle and pulled a bottle of brandy from a cupboard. He poured a measure of brandy into the waiting teacup and pressed the cup into her other hand.

"Drink this, Miss Granger. Slowly." His voice was quiet but commanding. Hermione turned her tear-streaked face up to look at him; after seven years as his student, she was used to obeying his will. Snape's face was impassive, but his eyes were fierce. With a trembling hand, she raised the cup to her lips and sipped the fiery liquid. Immediately, she felt the warmth slide down her throat, beginning to warm and calm her. He nodded his approval, as Lupin spoke again.

"We searched the house, Hermione. There was a fight, that much we know for certain. Your parents weren't there. Now, we don't know that anything bad has happened to them. We sent an alarm, and most of the Order are looking for them now. You mustn't despair. Someone will contact us as soon as they know."

The kettle began to sing, and Remus stood to pour the boiling water into the teapot. Snape moved to take his seat, wordlessly motioning for Hermione to take another sip of the brandy.

Speaking in his customarily dispassionate tone, Snape continued the story. "We waited for Dumbledore to arrive; he is taking Fletcher's body to his sister. The others went on to search for your parents, and we brought Tonks here. St. Mungo's is being watched by the Dark Lord."

Lupin placed three mugs on the table and poured strong, hot tea for each of them. He topped off each mug with a measure of brandy and pushed one over to Hermione.

"Drink it, Hermione. It will help, I promise you." Hermione thankfully took the second teacup between her trembling hands, grateful for the warmth. Snape watched her until she began to sip the hot liquid. He then quickly drank his own tea, muttered something about a shower, and left the room.

Lupin began to speak to Hermione in a kindly, distracting way, asking about her plans to go to University in Bulgaria at the end of the month and about Ron and Harry beginning their Auror training the next January. He told a story or two about his own days at University until Snape came back into the kitchen, dressed in black slacks and a black suede shirt, his black hair still damp from the shower. Lupin looked at him in surprise.

"Having trouble sleeping, Severus?" he asked.

"Minerva asked me to have you step upstairs, Lupin."

Lupin stood to pour another mug of tea. "I'll go up, then," he said, also slipping the brandy bottle into the pocket of his robes. "Hermione, you should try to sleep. Severus, we're leaving in the morning at 7:00?" At Snape's silent nod, Lupin left the kitchen.

"If you have finished your tea, Miss Granger, you may try to sleep now. I will not be sleeping and will cover your shift." Snape's tone was matter-of-fact. His manner implied that he was not offering kindness or assistance, simply stating reality.

Hermione stood up, feeling dazed and frightened, as well as a little drunk. She swayed on her feet, and Snape stepped closer to place a steadying hand on her elbow. She could smell the shampoo he had used to wash his hair and his shaving lotion. He was a full head taller than she, and for the first time, she was aware of the breadth of this man's chest and the wiry strength in his arms. An unfamiliar energy seemed to pour out of him; she felt the power surround her, enter her very being, and her heart began to race. She noted the angle of his jaw, with a surprising fascination, and knew the urge to press her lips to the pulse beating in his throat. When he touched her, she felt her tummy turn over.

Fearlessly, she placed one hand on his chest and looked up into his inscrutable black eyes.

"Please don't send me away, sir," she whispered, gazing up at him imploringly.

For what seemed an eternity, they stood that way in the cozy kitchen at number 12, Grimmauld Place. The palm of her hand, resting beneath his heart, registered the steady, if quickened, cadence. She felt the pressure of his fingers on the bare skin of her arm, almost a caress. Breathless, she watched the normally tight-lipped mouth relax - did she only imagine the softening in his obsidian gaze? What was this force in the air between them, that seemed so viscous, and felt both warm and treacherous? With her free hand, she reached around him, ignoring his instinctive stiffening, not caring that her movement dislodged his hand from her arm, and slowly gathered a great handful of the back of his shirt. She needed this contact, required it, hungered for it. Closing her eyes, she tucked her curly head beneath his chin and pressed her soft body against the angular length of his.

Snape stood, rigid in her embrace. Hermione was oblivious to his discomfort; she felt safe, and comforted, and some other emotion for which she had no name. Clinging to him with her eyes closed, she could see neither the expression of agony on his face nor the clenched fists held deliberately by his sides.

Much too soon, the doorbell chimed, and he put her away from him, striding out of the room without a backward glance. She followed him, hearing excited voices in the hall, and walked right into Ron and Harry, who were sprinting past the other Order members.

"Hermione!" Ron was gasping, out of breath. "We have your parents safe at the Burrow!"

Harry looked at her closely and wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of his hand. "Moody and Shacklebolt were able to get them out of there while Dung and Tonks held the Death Eaters off. Are you okay?"

Ron grabbed her hand and began to pull her toward the door. "We'll take you to them, come on..."

Hermione was only minimally aware of the smiles and arm pats bestowed upon her by the other Order members grouped in the hall, who were removing their cloaks and discussing an impromptu supper of whatever was in the cupboard. Snape stood motionless, the crowd separating them, as Ron tugged on her hand, and Harry herded her from behind. Her, "Thank you, Professor," was lost in the clamor, and he merely inclined his head to her as she was swept away.

She did not see him again.