Disclaimer: This is, if you haven't noticed, going to evolve into a SS/HG ship. If you are not comfortable with that, you may kindly leave this page. If you are going to complain about the ship, why in heaven and hell would you click on a ship you don't like? Oh, and another thing: this takes place in a bit of an AU. You'll see how it develops. Thank you very much, and do enjoy.
The hex had hit him hard in the face; of course it hit him in the face. His already crooked nose was swollen, almost filling in the gap between his forehead and bridge of nose, where his nose gave off its hooked appearance. It throbbed. Without much dignity, he realized, he was sprawled on the bathroom floor, dripping crimson blood into a toilet. He couldn't stop the bleeding without his wand; he would not go to the infirmary. His cheek, eye, and lip, he could feel, were swelling in addition to his nose. His hair, black as velvet, was plastered to his neck and forehead. He groaned. Stumbling forward, he groped for some toilet paper to stuff his nose with. His shirt was ruined; he'd repair his robes later.
"Sev!" The beautiful ginger haired girl he adored came running up behind him, "I-I got this back from James, I--"
"Lily," a young Severus whipped around, "I don't want to hear it--"
"You're hurt--"
"I'm always hurt, Lily--" he said in a congested manor; blood was clogging his sinuses.
"Sev…here's your wand. I--"
"Thanks," Severus mumbled, taking his wand out of her hand. Their fingers grazed.
"Do you need help?" Lily looked pained. He must look awful.
Severus sighed. "I'll be fine. See you later." Severus stalked off, leaving behind a concerned Lily.
SS
"This morning," Snape hissed at his class over a sea of steaming cauldrons, "you will be brewing the Draught of Living Death." Sleepy spring sunshine of morning had already seeped into the minds of the almost graduating class. Barely a regard for their professor: there were a few yawns, a handful of blank faces, and one all-too-eager face framed by bushy ringlets. The rapping, tapping, scratching of chalk on the black board pulled several students from their comatose state. Teaching was nearly futile; these students would soon be gone and had already sanded down the fear for their dark professor. Of course, it was not that they were unintimidated—on the contrary, he was still just as towering as to a first year. Alas, the handful of lazy adolescents had not a fear for class work, and took the late May sunshine as a queue for the scholarly end. Anyhow, students of the seniority caliber should be expected and compelled to take care of their own tasks. After completing the instructions on the board, Snape took fort at his desk, harshly grading second year essays.
His eyes scanned the heads hard at work. "Miss Granger," he bellowed, "would you kindly not assist Longbottom with—his—poitionmaking!"
An audible gulp was heard from the back of the class, where the bushy haired girl was assisting the utterly shy boy. The cauldron was emptied, ingredients put away, and two detentions handed out.
"But sir, if Neville could just get the extra help, he'd--"
"Miss Granger, back—to—your—seat!" Snape's robes billowed as he headed to the center of the class. "You should all be of age to recognize what are and what are not your intellectual talents," his eyes dashed towards Neville, "Being at that age of yours, you must all also recognize that cheating is punishable by--"
"Sir, you could hardly call that cheating!" Hermione spoke, though out of turn.
"Detention! 70 points from Gryffindor, each--"
"Sir--"
"Dismissed!" Everyone hurriedly collected their books. Snape went back to his desk; a death grip on his quill. All that could be heard in the classroom was the screeching of stools and the scratching of Snape's quill.
"Hermione, c'mon. Just leave it alone. There's only two weeks left of class anyway--"
"Ronald, I can't just leave it alone! Neville needed help! That's not cheating; neither of us deserve a detention!"
"It's Snape, Hermione--" Harry said, swinging his bag onto his shoulder.
"Look, I'll see you both at dinner." Hermione said, shooing them away. Leaving her books at her desk, she approached the glowering professor.
"Sir, I-I hardly think it is acceptable that you--" Snape's eyes flickered up at her; not a word was spoken. He went back to grading papers.
"Miss Granger," Snape hissed, clearing his throat, "you are aware of my policies. I am punishing how I see fit--"
"Sir. If you just give Neville a chance--"
"Longbottom has not the skill of potions!" Snape spoke agitatedly. Insufferable man!
"That's not true!"
"Miss Granger, I will see you after dinner." That was that. His tone was controlled, arrogant. Red faced, Hermione walked back to collect her things. Her frustration was boiling. She slammed the door behind her.
Before she had even ascended the stairs to get out of the dungeon area, screams were heard. A rumble deep in the castle shook her feet; she drew her wand. Harry and Ron. She backed up. Before she knew it, she was running back to Snape's classroom. She could hear rushing footsteps coming her way; she ripped open the classroom door. Snape was right at the other side, wand drawn, face barely showing panic. "Miss Granger!" He thundered. He poked his head out of the door jam; he heard the footsteps, too. He sighed and scowled. "Get—in—now--" Hermione rushed in; the door was shut and warded behind her. Why did I go back, she thought, that wasn't very Gryffindor…Where are Harry and Ron? What am I doing here? What of my friends?!
"By no doubt," he said through gritted teeth, "you can assume we are under attack--"
"Yes, but I thought we had more time—wasn't it safe enough--"
"Halt your silly questions!"
"Oh gods," Hermione sunk down on a stool, "Harry and Ron are up there--"
"You can't do anything about it now—"
"No! I have to go help them--" She flew at the door.
"Granger," Snape bellowed, "you will do no such thing. I will not be responsible for your death--"
"But I don't want to be responsible for theirs'!" She bit her lip and swallowed tears.
"Oh sit down, will you. You're not going anywhere."
"No. I can't just sit here—Oh, why did I go back--" Hermione heard a slam behind her; Snape had retreated to his chambers. That bastard.
She could hear screams and feel the rumbling of the castle. She was going mad, for heavens sake! Twice she removed herself from her seat, paced to the door, rationalized that it would be futile to try and break the wards, and returned again to the cold stool. Snape appeared behind her after what felt like an entire evening. He carried the mask of a Death Eater in his hand. His robes were blacker than black; his hood was drawn. "I know, Miss Granger, you know my position." Hermione kept for mouth shut. "You have three choices in the matter that is about to happen." Hermione's brows knit; Snape kept talking in a deep, expressionless manner. "I cannot just let you leave now that you are here. You are, I assume, of at least enough intelligence to know you are valuable as bait--"
"Bait?"
Snape's glare hushed her. "First: you stay here. You stay silent and under the radar. It is too late to escape, but you must know that hiding here risks your life and mine. A stupid idea."
Hermione nodded.
"Second: I claim you as a…prisoner. It would, at least, be a better option than handing you to Lucius."
Hermione blinked.
"Third: I let you go, as if you 'escaped', so you can join in to your little heroic game. Your chances of not surviving are…"
"Slim…I know. I need to help Harry--" Hermione's voice was quiet but stubborn.
"It's his battle--"
"He's my friend!"
"You all—you little children with your Romantic notions of war and heroism! You'll die out there--"
"He's. My. Friend!" Hermione flew off the stool and towards the door, "I shall choose option three, thank you very much." She stood cross-armed at the door.
"Stupid…child…" Snape hissed. He grabbed her shoulder and steered her towards a door she had never been near. "You will go this way. It will take you to the vicinity of the Slytherin commons."
"Your-your chambers--"
"Yes--" Snape hissed, barely making a sound, "I will be warding the door behind you. You will not be able to get back in." Cold eyes stared at her. "In. Now."
His rooms were dark. She could barely see a thing; he wouldn't illuminate anything. She knew she passed through the main sitting room, then down a hall. She could hear her footsteps, and could hear his, too. And suddenly, they were at another door.
"I am sealing this after you step out. I am, as you surely know, targeted. I ask that, though this is surely a very Gryffindor moment of sentimentality that we will perhaps never see each other again," Hermione could see his face; cold, distant, shadowed. Perfectly Slytherin. If she had not, months ago, already figured out his double-agent position, she would have felt herself in danger of being murdered right then and there. "I ask that you ask no questions. Mention me to no one. To you, I am a Death Eater." His voice adopted a deep thundering she was unfamiliar with. This is the war. It hit her. Her heart ascended to her throat. How could she possibly leave this man to an almost inevitable death sentence?! Yes, he's terribly insufferable, but he's human. She opened her mouth and drew a shaky breath. "Sir--"
"I am no longer your teacher, Miss Granger, I am to be your enemy." Cold, calculated voice.
"I--" she stuck out her hand, "Nice to know you, Sir."
Snape glanced at her hand. "Kindly replace your hand, Miss Granger. You will go, now." He said through his teeth. Hermione had nothing else to do; she could not save a determined man. "Thank you for giving me the third option. You're—you're incredibly brave, sir." She said quietly. He'd just spared her from cruel, cruel torture, she thought. She turned around, she held the cold doorknob in her hand.
"There is no such thing as bravery. Only degrees of fear," Hermione heard quietly behind her. She may have heard a hint of guilt…When she stepped out the door, she turned around. His face had not changed expression: cold, detached.
"How scared are you?" she whispered. What did I just ask? She thought, mortified by her boldness of question. He's probably going to die, and I'm wasting his time with silly questions!
Snape's eyes narrowed slightly, he leaned toward her.
The door slammed in her face.
"Snape," Hermione could barely hear through the thick stone the cold, nasal voice of Lucius Malfoy. "The Dark Lord wants you. Now."
Hermione could hear screams from every direction. The castle rumbled; Hermione drew her wand.
