—————H—————

Remus was sitting with his face in his hands, and Sirius looked ill. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione thought that maybe she should feel guilty about telling them the truth, but she didn't. Not at all. It was about time. High time, really, that they understood the truth about their beloved headmaster. And while she knew James would never, ever believe a word she said because he would always see Dumbledore as infallible, these two would understand.

"So, h-he made it im-impossible for Severus to s-s-say no," Remus finally stuttered. He looked around the room, at the bed they sat on with Severus sleeping behind them, at the dingy walls. It was like Remus was, for the first time, seeing the circumstances he was forced into.

"Unless Severus forfeit his opportunity to earn his Mastership to stay with me, Dumbledore said that I would be in danger," Hermione affirmed.

"He's talked to us about it, you know," Sirius mentioned thoughtfully. "This ... Order." When Remus looked confused, and maybe a bit hurt, Sirius gave his shoulder a squeeze. "To me and James, though I imagine he'll want you, too, Moony. How could he not?"

"What did he say to you?" Hermione asked curiously, crossing her arms and legs as she braced herself against the wall.

Sirius shrugged. "That the war is getting worse, that he needs people he can trust, people he knows will do what it takes to stop Dark Wizards. And what's more, he liked that James and I will not have to look for work after Hogwarts. As members of old pure-blood families, we'll probably be able to petition for places in the Wizengamot in a few years."

"And because I'm a half-blood with a condition, I wouldn't be as useful."

"Your lycanthropy is hardly a hindrance to stopping Dark Wizards," Hermione said casually, smirking a bit at the wide-eyed terror Remus exuded at her words.

He blushed, then went pale. "You knew," he said.

"Yes."

"And ... and it doesn't bother you?"

She remembered his transformation three years ago and seventeen years from now. How absolutely terrified she was, and how she'd chastised herself for not confronting him before that last night in the Shrieking Shack.

"No," she said with a slight shake of her head. "It's not as though you have any control over it."

"He said he killed his father," Sirius said before they continued that line of conversation.

"I guess that was what You-Know-Who wanted him to do this evening. His father is a Muggle." She looked over at where Severus was resting, the spell she used to make him fall asleep still in effect. But she doubted it would be for long. "I know it's not precisely warm out here, but to move him now wouldn't be a good idea. Remus, I know you stay here when you change. Will it bother you if we stay the night?"

"Do you think we'd leave you two alone?" Sirius asked. "He had to kill someone tonight, Kitten. He didn't seem okay when he arrived. He might love you, but if he's even slightly out of it when he wakes, he may not be able to recognize friend from foe right away."

"I don't think Severus would appreciate sharing a bed with you two." She smirked, pushing off the wall. Withdrawing her wand, she pointed it at the piano in the other room, transfiguring it into a bed large enough for two. A few flicks at some of the torn sheets and she turned them into thick warm comforters. She snatched one off the floor and handed it to Sirius. "If you insist on staying, you'll do it in the next room. If Severus does wake and is not half mad, he won't want an audience. We can put up a silencing charm if he needs to talk, and you can still see I'm safe."

"Alright," Remus said, snatching the blanket from Sirius and walking into the next room. He nudged the bed until it was in direct line of sight of the other bed.

Hermione turned to see a strange nervousness cross Sirius' face before he looked at her with a half-hearted grin. He left the room, and Hermione went to Severus.

Climbing on the bed, sliding into the empty spot beside him, she examined his relaxed features. How long would they stay like that?

"I love you," she said softly, moving the hair from his face. "Know that this changes nothing for me. You only did what you had to do." She kissed his cheek, and then cast a silencing charm on the room. She then curled up against him as best she could before closing her eyes and willing herself to sleep.

—————S—————

The nightmares came every night. The majority of the time, Tobias Snape begged for his life in those dreams. He reminded Severus that no matter how bad things were, no matter how shittily Tobias had treated him, that they were blood. Father and son. And Severus had more than killed him, he had maimed him. Sometimes it was his mother, though those were few and far between. Now and then it was Lily, because she was a Muggle-born—a Mudblood —and needed to be taken out of the world.

And sometimes, on the worst nights, it was Hermione.

Severus remembered landing in the Shrieking Shack, waking next to her after he clawed his way from the nightmares. She held him tight, soothed him as he tried to plead for a forgiveness he already had from her, but it wasn't the same.

Something in him broke. And whether it was his soul, his conscience, or something else, it could never be repaired. He'd killed a man. It didn't matter that he had wanted that man dead, that no one would miss him, or that Severus himself could have been the one dying in a puddle of his own blood had he not done the deed; he would never not be a murderer.

"What are you doing?" Hermione's gentle voice asked as she sat next to him on the couch in his lab. She had moved quietly, though he'd sense her arrival long before she entered the room, and once beside him, placed a warm hand on his thigh.

He reveled in it, allowing her touch, her heat, soothe him. But he wouldn't touch her. After that night, he hadn't been able to bring himself to initiate anything between them. He could barely let her do that, and they hadn't made love since before then. Or snogged. He'd kissed her but hadn't allowed for any passion. Part of him didn't think he deserved it or her. Part of him was terrified he would actually succeed in convincing her of that.

"Research," he replied softly.

"Would you like help?" She asked things like that constantly, and while anyone else who made the inquiry was promptly snapped at, Hermione was not.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It's something I have to do on my own."

She nodded, eyes sad, clearly missing him, but she didn't push. She didn't argue with him or fight him on it, she merely accepted it. Pulling a book out of her bag, she began to read. After a while, she leaned against him, and he wanted to sob with relief and pain.

Hermione absently turned and kissed his neck, and he winced.

"When are you going to understand that you're still the same Severus to me?" she asked, not unkindly.

"How can I be? But then, maybe you've always known this about me. Maybe you already knew what I was capable of. But then that just begs the question, why the hell would you go anywhere near me?"

"Severus," she growled.

"I killed a man with a spell I created to end a life if used correctly. To severely maim otherwise. I didn't even think about needing a counter spell until the Dark Lord stood over my dying father and tried to heal him to prove a point. My father, Hermione. I may have hated him; I may have wanted him dead—"

"But not by your hand," Hermione finished, because she knew him. She nodded, and he hated that she was so understanding. "What has your mother said about it?"

He scoffed. "She wishes she'd been there to watch the bastard bleed, after all he did to her."

"So, she's not angry with you. And I may have only figured it out before the holidays, but I did come to the conclusion that you would find yourself in this position. And I've read the books, you know. I'm aware—" she stopped short and gasped for breath, grasping her neck.

Severus tossed the book aside and knelt in front of her, holding her hands and her gaze so she could regain her breath.

"I don't get it," she croaked. "You know. You've experienced it already."

"It's okay," he tried to sooth, feeling her pulse in her palms.

"No, it's not," she said, tears coming to her eyes. "It's not because you're slipping away from me, and I know. I know, Severus. And there's nothing you would do that would make me love you less. You're the very best thing that came out of my accident and now I'm losing you. You're flinching away from me, you're distancing yourself."

"Because you deserve better."

"I don't want better, I want you ," she snapped.

And Severus felt his lips twitch. From the fog of despair and self-hate, he processed her words, and felt his chest rumble. And at her confusion, he laughed loud and hard, throwing his head back. Her confusion became a glare, and he was gone.

"Severus Snape, are you laughing at me?" she demanded as he fell backward, catching himself on his elbows. He managed to open his eyes to see her petulant glare and crossed arms and laughed again.

"At least you aren't trying to tell me that I'm the best, just the best that's come of your awful situation. It helps to know you aren't entirely delusional."

Her nose crinkled as her lips puckered in a displeased pout, and his guffaws changed to a giggle. Shaking his head, he reached over and cupped her cheek. Despite her obvious unhappiness, she leaned into it.

"It's only going to get worse, you know. And there will be at least a couple years where we won't see each other often. What if in that time, you hear of all the awful things I did or meet someone much better for you? How can you still want to risk associating with me?"

Her expression softened, and she placed a hand over his to keep it on her cheek.

"I want to be associated with you because you are my best friend. Bar none. Even if you decide you simply don't want me anymore, I will always love you. And you will always be my best friend."

"What if I'm forced to hurt you?" he asked in a whisper, terrified to give voice to one of the things that was bothering him. "What if you're seen as a weakness in some way, and the Dark Lord demands I hurt you? Or worse? I'm beginning to think that Dumbledore is right; I shouldn't have anyone close to me."

"And I believe Alastor: It will look more suspicious if you are close to no one."

He could see she wasn't going to let it go. He should have known from the moment he tried to distance himself that Hermione was not going to back down or let him go, no matter what evils he had done or would do. As the self-doubt, the complete and total feeling of unworthiness started to settle over him again, he played what might just be his last card to convince her.

"If you stay with me, if you stay by my side as I go down this path, you're going to have to travel with me," he said quietly, watching her forehead wrinkle. "Hermione, it would mean turning Dark with me. You can't show any signs of disapproval, any signs that you don't agree with their philosophy. Or worse, that you are exactly the thing they despise."

Her forehead smoothed, and a gentle smile formed on her lips. "Why do you think I had such a breakdown after our meeting with the Dark Lord?" she reminded him. "Because I knew what this meant, and I was worried I wouldn't be up to the task. But I am. I am, I know I am." She surprised him by darting forward and kissing him roughly. "And so are you. You could do this on your own, but why should you?"

With her lips on his, and her tongue seeking entrance, the logical part of Severus' brain short-circuited, and all the excuses he had come up with before were suddenly null.

Merlin, had it really been over a month since he felt this? Deepening the kiss, that self-hating part of himself screamed how badly he didn't deserve this. Her. Happiness in general. Gods, he was disgusting.

But thankfully, the rest of his brain told that part to sod off and allowed him and Hermione some peace for a bit.

—————A—————

"Why are we up here?" Harry asked as they made it to the seventh-floor corridor just as the clock struck midnight.

They would have been up there faster had Harry not insisted that they stop and get Ron. Prat though he was, Harry made a good point of setting things right between them, and if he was left out, it wouldn't bode well. There had been grumbling, a bit of sibling bickering, but they eventually got moving to a spot where they could all be together without housemates complaining about intruders.

"Because we need privacy," Aurora replied as she spotted the tapestry of ballerina trolls. She then began to pace frantically in front of the blank wall.

A comfortable room, like a common room, where we could sleep.

She repeated the thought, and on her third turn while thinking clearly, a door appeared.

"Blimey," Ron said as he stepped toward the door, eyes wide. "How'd ya know about this?"

"Honestly?" Rory said as she stepped around him and placed her hand on the doorknob. "Whenever my mother was ill during the school year, and not able to care for me, my father would bring me up here and ask for a safe room where I could play, with a door that led to his office if I needed him. It's called the Room of Requirement." She opened the door and stepped inside.

The room had never disappointed her, and it certainly hadn't now. There were fluffy sofas around a small table, a neat stack of blankets beneath it, and a dressing screen near the fireplace, along with five pairs of red pajamas, one pair of blue, and one pair of green.

"Should we get comfortable then?" Draco asked as he went over to grab the green pajamas.

"I've never been to a sleepover before," Luna commented as she went to collect the blue pajamas. "At least not one that wasn't schoolwide and mandatory."

"Is there a loo?" Neville asked, and a panel behind him swung open to reveal facilities.

"What about food?" Ron asked, and then gave a high-pitched scream when a house-elf appeared in front of him.

"Hi, Dobby," Harry greeted.

"Harry Potter!" the little elf greeted.

"What are you doing here, Dobby?" Draco asked.

The little elf yelped and turned around, pulling at his ears. "Master Draco must understand that he is not master anymore. Master Malfoy gave Dobby sock, and Dobby is now a free elf."

"Ah," Draco said, then frowned. "Never did know what happened to you."

Dobby nodded, letting go of his ears as he smiled. "Dobby was freed with the help of Harry Potter. Harry Potter is as good and brave and kind as Master Draco always said he was."

Draco turned nearly as red as Gryffindor pajamas, and then his eyes widened. Aurora darted her eyes from him to where he was looking, and noticed Harry was blushing as well.

Ron gaped at Dobby. "No. Malfoy telling you that Harry is all those things?"

"Master Draco told Dobby of Harry Potter. Of the real Harry Potter, not a story like house-elves hear."

"Right, yes. Well, Dobby, I think we need some food for Weasel to cram into his face so he can shut up." Draco sneered at Ron before taking his pajamas and dashing behind a screen.

"Should Dobby go to Hogwarts kitchen and bring food for Harry Potter and his friends?" Dobby asked, wringing his hands.

"Sure, Dobby. That would be wonderful."

Dobby smiled widely before disappearing. The Gryffindors gathered their clothes, and multiple screens popped up throughout the room.

As she changed, Aurora finally had a moment to think about what was about to happen. Was she betraying her dad by revealing the truth? Well, it wasn't as if Harry wasn't going to find out anyway, right? If he didn't find out the truth from her, he would find out on his own. The hard way, and it would end up causing a lot of issues. Aurora knew Harry hadn't particularly liked her father when they first met, and his antics and adventures hadn't improved that relationship. But she had noticed that they weren't quite as hateful toward one another in the last year.

She just hoped her father would forgive her for it. But the last thing she needed was Ron to run his mouth, or Harry to do so in a fit of rage. She had an idea to stop that from happening. Not a pleasant one, but something that would work.

Once they were all changed, they huddled together on the sofas: Neville and Luna on either side of Aurora, Draco between Harry and Ginny, Ron on the floor close to the coffee table were pastries and warm drinks were laid out.

"So why was Karkaroff so interested in your dad's arm. What's this sign he kept rambling about?" Harry asked as Ron began to tuck in.

Aurora looked at Draco.

"I don't think it makes much difference, Rory," Draco admitted. "It's not my father we're worried about here."

Nodding, she took a deep breath. "I can tell you everything, but I need something from all of you first: a wand oath."

"Goddabe kinning me," Ron sputtered around a mouthful of food. "S'legal."

"If you mean illegal, you disgusting baboon, you're wrong," Aurora said with a grimace, ignoring his glare. "My mother made an Unbreakable Vow at fourteen. And I was told her friends made a wand oath at sixteen and seventeen to keep this very secret. All you need is a wand."

Harry shifted on the couch, unsure, and Neville was suddenly very interested in the hem of his pajama top.

"I vow to keep what is shared between us," Luna's voice came clear and concise, wand raised as it glowed gold. "Though I must clarify, wand oaths have different levels of severity and ritual. What I just did doesn't bind me to one person, but I risk my own magic if I violate the oath, because I swore on my wand. An Unbreakable Vow involves a third party to cast the spell and officially bind you. If someone breaks the agreement, they die."

"Well then." Draco cleared his throat. "I vow to keep what is shared between us." Harry nodded, and followed, then Ginny and Neville, and finally Ron.

When their wands were put away, Aurora took a deep breath. "My dad is a Death Eater, but not by choice." Ron slammed his hand down on the table, looking at Harry while he chewed a fresh mouthful of food, looking like he was saying 'I knew it.'

But Harry just looked curious. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean," Aurora sighed, "he had no choice."

And so, she explained. Her father had told her the story the year before, and while it scared her, it was also a bit of a love story. It was with this perspective that she spun his tale (though not her mother's), his friendship with her mother and the doors it opened to him. She wasn't as lighthearted when she recounted the fateful winter when the role was forced onto him, nor did she sugarcoat how Dumbledore convinced him it was for the greater good.

When she was done, the room was quiet, but she could see by the look on some of their faces that their opinions were changing. All but Neville's and Ron's.

"I suppose you're gonna say your dad did it for your mum, too, eh Malfoy?" Ron asked derisively.