The Things We Do For Love

More info on chapter 3 at the bottom!!!!

THE THINGS WE DO FOR LOVE

CHAPTER 2

"There was another Death Eater attack."

Hermione looked up from her breakfast, that had yet to be touched, and looked at Ron, who had his nose stuck in the latest Daily Prophet paper. She gazed at him for the longest time, and yet, he did not seem to notice.

Harry, however, did notice. He had kept a close eye on her for the past two days, and he frowned slightly at her reaction, or lack thereof.

"There was?" she finally responded in a tight voice.

Ron nodded from behind the paper. "Uh-huh, a married muggle couple, found dead in their bed. They don't even think they awoke from their dreams...I sincerely hope they catch this bastard and skin him alive," Ron rambled, enraged at the injustice of it all.

Hermione blanched, several feelings taking root deep within her. The emotions that Harry saw cross her face vastly confused an already complicated situation.

He could make out sorrow, horror, sympathy and *guilt*...the guilt that was clearly evident in her features is what had lost him. She had gone from no reaction to a guilty one. That couldn't be right...could it? NO! Of course not, this was Hermione, after all, *Hermione*. It's not like *she* killed them...he must have just imagined her guilt, that's all.

Harry fazed back into the world of the living, only to see all emotions promptly wiped off of Hermione's features, leaving deep pools of chocolate brown eyes. When he looked into her eyes, he saw nothing. No love, hate, sadness, nothing. It was her lack of emotions that scared him the most.

"That's terrible," Hermione belatedly reacted to Ron's story.

The rest of breakfast was eaten in silence until it was time for their first class of what was, no doubt, going to be a long day...

* * * * *

"Who can tell me the effects of a truth potion that did not simmer for the time requirement of one day?" Snape's voice cut across the dungeon room with a cold reverberating echo.

It was just Harry's luck to have this class first; what an excellent way to start off his day.

"Mr. Longbottom," Snape called on the poor unsuspecting student.

Neville hadn't changed much during the years at Hogwarts. He was clumsy and as forgetfull as ever, however, he was rather pleasing to the eye. He was one of those "boy next door nice guys" that were so popular in the muggle movies.

"I, uh-h, I don't exactly, recall..." he stammered.

Hermione's hand shot up and Severus had to repress the fond smile tugging at his lips as he asked in the same bored drawl, "Yes, Miss Granger?"

Hermione sighed, boredly. "A truth potion that has not been allowed the proper time to boil will cause a person to cough and choke uncontrollably, given the fact that it will cause one's throat to tighten and swell," she answered mechanically.

The thing about being a spy was that no one was to know that you were one. A spy had to act normally and not draw any undo attention to oneself, no matter how miserably alone she felt.

Hermione understood this and carried out her same haughty, know-it-all role in classes.

Snape, too, knew this and proclaimed to the class, in his most irrate, graiting tone, "Five points *from* Gryffindor for being a sarcastic, know-it-all. Now, the truth potions we have been working on have had enough time to boil, so if you will, partner up and give your partner the potion you have brewed," he smirked at a nervous looking Neville, "keep in mind that these potions aren't as strong and potennt as the original and have been modified to last for only the duration of three questions."

There was a scrambling of students as they searched for partners. This was Harry's oppurtunity...he would get the truth out of Hermione now, whether she wanted to confide or not.

"Hermione, will you be my partner?" Harry asked her with a smile.

Hermione cursed under her breath. Of all the people that could have been her partner, Harry had to ask her. It's not that she didn't like Harry anymore, she loved him with all her being (why else would she become a spy?), but Harry was a perceptive bastard. He had been watching her often lately.

'He knows, he knows something is wrong...' she thought. 'Look at him, looking at me. Damn, why do his eyes have to be so kind? Why does he have to be so gentle? Why couldn't he just hate me...?'

Sure, it would tear her heart apart, but it would be for the best, well, his best anyway, and that was all that mattered. Wasn't it?

But no, Harry didn't hate her. He trusted her, believed in her, and wouldn't desert her; which, in Hermione's mind, was far worse than his hatred.

"Sure, Harry," Hermione whispered in her defeat.

Harry eagerly got both of their potions and voluntered to be the first guinea pig.

He swallowed Hermione's potion, a soft tingling coming over him and leaving a slight humming in his head, as if he was hearing everything through a badly tuned radio.

"What is your name?" Hermione asked.

"Harry James Potter," he obediently replied.

"What is your school house?"

He smiled softly, almost as if he had been drugged. Sticking out his chest with pride, he pulled back his shoulders and slightly raised his chin, booming, "Gryffindor."

Hermione had a ghost of her old grin at his somewhat arrogant behavior. Leave it to Harry to bring a little light into her world of darkness.

"Who is your least favorite teacher?" Hermione asked, bitting her lip in anticipation.

"Professor Severus Snape." With those three words everything came flooding back to Harry. He felt tired and there was a slight ringing in his ears.

Hermione gulped down Harry's potion quickly, feeling the same effects as Harry had when he drank hers.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Hermione Jessica Granger."

Harry's brows rose slightly; he hadn't known her middle name was Jessica, but then he didn't know what was bothering her, either.

"What is your school house?"

"Gryffindor," she replied, showing some of the same signs of pride as Harry had, making him smile at her in amusement.

Harry's smile didn't last for long, however. His heart quickened pace as he was about to ask the big question.

"Why are you depressed?"

Hermione frowned for a moment and remained silent.

'Damn, bloody, perceptive bastard...' she cursed him mentally, 'He bloody well planned this!' Hermione was absolutely outraged, trying, unsuccessfully, to remain stubbornly silent.

When Harry thought that she wasn't going to answer, she did in the smallest voice, looking anywhere and everywhere save Harry's piercing eyes.

"Because of what it makes me do."

Harry was on the edge of his seat now. He was close, so bloody close. "What makes you do what?"

'Love, you prat, my love for you makes me do it, makes me kill...that is the reason why I put up with it, my love for you. *You* make me depressed, *you* did this to me, my love for *you*, Harry, all for you. I did it for love, but mostly you...' Hermione locked the truth in what used to be her heart.

Shaking her head slightly at an anxious Harry, Hermione whispered, focusing on her clenched hands in her lap, "Harry, you shouldn't have done that."

Damn, three questions only, Harry cursed to himself. He had been so close to finding out the problem, so close to banishing her ghosts, but no, all he had found out was some cryptic statement that didn't make any sense to him.

But what really frustrated him the most was that Hermione knew its true meaning, and she wasn't going to enlighten him.

"Tell me what is bothering you, Hermione. Let me help," Harry pleaded, a note of desperation entering his usually calm, rational voice.

That was what Harry was known for, his cool, collective rationality. Perhaps, she could tell him what was bothering her. She knew he would listen, but she didn't know if he could accept it, accept her.

Could he trust a best friend who had betrayed her beliefs and became a Death Eater? Of course not, not even if she was a spy. It was just something Harry couldn't understand. He had always been so openly against the Death Eaters that he couldn't respect anyone who willingly joined them, for good intentions or not.

Angered by this sudden realization, Hermione bit her tongue to keep from retorting vemonously. Instead, she replied with sickening charm, "Why Harry, you are worried over nothing."

Harry was about to respond to the contrary of what she claimed, but frowned as he watched all color drain out of her already ashen face. Again, he was about to remark on this, but before he could voice his concern, Hermione's left arm shot into the air.

Snape strode up to her, face contorted in a mask of disdain in order to hide his worry. "What is it Miss Granger?" he snapped nastily.

Hermione visibly swallowed the lump forming in her throat as she tugged her arm out of the air and nervously massaged her left forearm, where a hole was burning into her skin.

As Snape observed this his eyes widened in realization. She was being called to the Dark Lord, now of all times. He met her wide shocked eyes with concern. A taut silence had settled across the dungeons, everyone's curiousity quirked at this change in events.

The silence carried on, confused on Harry's part, yet understood on Snape's.

"Miss Granger, if you cannot find your voice, perhaps Madam Pomfrey can find it for you, off you go."

With this, Lily took over, assesing the situation and going into a cold, indifferent reaction. Mumbling a quick thanks to Severus and a tight goodbye to Harry, Lily Evans purposefully walked out of the dungeons.

Harry watched dumbly as Hermione left for the Hospital wing, his concern for her well-being reaching an entirely new level.