A/N: Hey guys, I'm finally posting a new fic! I've been working on a couple different things, but I've been bouncing this idea around for a while and decided to finally go for it.

I'm aiming for about 30k-40k in length, with weekly updates.

Chapter 1

It started, as so many things do, with Bellatrix Lestrange. In her fifth year, she'd been the first girl to wear her tie around her waist instead of her neck. The next day, three other girls had followed suit. The day after that: twelve.

The day after that, Professor McGonagall gave Evie Jones a detention for violating school dress code (actually the detention was for mouthing off about violating school dress code, but the rumour mill didn't care) and that was the end of that.

In her seventh year, Bellatrix Lestrange had been the first person to take up the hobby of 'bopping.' This was when one of the seventh years (and it had to be a seventh year, no one else was allowed) would lean over the bannister of the stair case, and whack the backs of the heads of the first years who passed by. It became immensely popular extremely quickly, because it had two main advantages: it gave the seventh years some much-needed stress relief, and no one actually got hurt, so the professors didn't do anything about it.

Until Evie Jones managed to fuck things up again, and accidentally pushed a first-year Hufflepuff down the stairs.

The professors had come down quite hard on 'bopping' after that.

When Bellatrix Lestrange turned 23, she became the first Death Eater to Crucio someone into insanity. It was a random Ministry official, one whom she didn't even remember the name of.

She'd loved it. After that, it became something of a signature move of hers.

Until she'd been arrested, years later, by none other than Evie Jones. Who'd somehow managed to bumble her way through Auror training, and had been part of the force that responded to the attack on the Longbottoms. It had taken nine Aurors to bring Bellatrix down, but only one to arrest her.

It goes without saying that Bellatrix Lestrange hates Evie Jones with a burning passion. But there's someone that Bellatrix hates even more.

And so our story starts with Bellatrix Lestrange. It starts with her being broken out of Azkaban in the summer of 1995. A cautious excursion, that puts stealth above all else. She is the only one broken out, and a carefully constructed golem has been left in her place. All the golem does is look like her and scream, but that's all it has to do. No one even notices she's gone.

And so our story starts, with Bellatrix Lestrange spending most of the summer recuperating from her time in prison. She's surprisingly sane for someone who's spent so much time around Dementors. Or perhaps she'd been so insane before she'd been imprisoned that no one could tell the difference. The fact of the matter was, Bellatrix Lestrange hadn't been affected by the Dementors quite so much as everyone else. You didn't turn out like her after a life of happiness, after all. She simply hadn't had very many happy memories for the Dementors to feed on.

And so our story starts… with Bellatrix Lestrange in Malfoy Manor, sitting outside the door to the study Lord Voldemort has claimed for his own. She stares at it, waiting patiently (waiting desperately) for the Dark Lord to appear.

The door opens, and her heart skips a beat. It is not him. Instead of the person she loves, it is the one she despises above all else.

Out steps Severus Snape, who, upon seeing her, raises an eyebrow at her. "Really, Bellatrix?" he asks, shutting the door behind him. "Are you really so pathetic that you would sit out here mooning like a lovestruck puppy?" Scorn drips from his voice, and he seems immensely satisfied. Severus, who carried the Dark Lord's favor despite numerous betrayals. Severus, who spoke to the Dark Lord in a hushed whisper about something that no one else was allowed to hear. Severus, who was the only person who could make the Dark Lord laugh.

Bellatrix scrambles to her feet, wand out and sparks jumping off the tip. "How dare you," she hisses. "How dare you mock me when I have served our Lord more faithfully, more truly, than you ever did."

"Have you?" Snape asks, in mock surprise. "Is that why you're sitting out here while I meet with him?" he says slowly, enunciating the words dripping out of his mouth. "Ever the faithful lapdog, are you?"

"I'm going to kill you!" she shrieks, and points her wand at his face.

Snape simply shakes his head. "I don't think the Dark Lord would be very pleased with you if you did," he murmurs, and to Bellatrix's eternal frustration, he doesn't look at all scared or intimidated. Instead, he looks… bored. "After all, I am providing him valuable information about the Order. I offer him a direct link into Dumbledore's camp. I brew him valuable potions. You… what is it you do again?" He pauses in exaggerated thoughtfulness, before smirking at her and walking away from her down the hallway.

Bellatrix can't speak for her rage. She wants to destroy him, she wants to rip his skin from his body and make him eat it. She wants to rip out his intestines and strangle him with them. She wants to curse him senseless, until his brains dribble out his ears.

But she can't. Because he's right, and she knows the Dark Lord would be displeased with her. She can't bring herself to do something that would bring the Dark Lord's displeasure down upon her, no matter how satisfying it would feel.

However… Bellatrix Lestrange was the first female Death Eater to make it into the Dark Lord's inner circle for a reason. She was highly intelligent, magically powerful, and above all, viciously creative.

"You know nothing of love," she says softly, as a silvery beam of light left her wand and hit Snape soundlessly in the back. A curse that she'd learned all the way back in her childhood. A Black family speciality. "But you will."

August 5th, 1995 (just barely)

Severus Snape knew he was fucked the moment the curse hit his back. He hadn't turned around, of course, because he knew that Bellatrix wouldn't risk harming him, but he also knew that the Dark Lord had a very strict definition of what constituted harm. Namely, anything that would leave Severus unable to spy. And as a result, Bellatrix had rather a lot of leeway.

He didn't turn around when he felt the curse, because he knew he needed to get somewhere safe as soon as possible and that meant leaving Malfoy Manor. There was no point in wasting precious time arguing with her, he needed to find Albus so they could figure out what the hell she'd just done.

Already, Severus could feel tendrils of magic creeping over his skin. It felt… disturbingly good, actually, which more than anything made Severus pick up his pace.

He spent his walk out of the wards debating the quickest way to get to Albus. Apparating to Hogwarts meant a long walk across the grounds and through the castle in order to get to Albus' office.

However… Albus' floo was open to the one at Grimmauld Place, in case of emergency. He could Apparate onto the front step, and then it was just a short walk to the kitchen.

A loud crack later, Severus was letting himself into Grimmauld Place as quietly as possible (for it was the middle of the night, and the last thing he wanted was to wake the portrait and announce his presence to everyone). The magic tickling his skin seemed to itch the moment he stepped past the wards, as if they recognised the house. Bellatrix's magic seemed pleased to be home.

Severus was much less pleased to be in a filthy, decrepit, disgusting excuse for a house. The only halfway decent room was the kitchen, which—

Was occupied. By an exhausted, downtrodden Hermione Granger, who looked up curiously as he entered.

For a moment, they made eye contact, and Severus felt mildly annoyed about getting caught when he'd been hoping not to meet anyone at all— and then his stomach clenched, his skin tingled, and for the first time, he felt like he was truly seeing Hermione Granger.

He stared at her with wide eyes.

"Sir?" she asked, after a long moment where he didn't move, seemingly frozen in place, staring at her with a peculiar expression she'd never seen him wear before. "Are you alright?"

He blinked, as if suddenly waking up. "Fuck," he breathed out, still staring at her.

"Professor?" Hermione asked in alarm, having never once heard him swear before.

"I'm—" He rubbed a hand over his face, unable to take his eyes off her. "What are you doing up?" he asked, before he could help it, and immediately winced.

"I couldn't sleep," Hermione admitted, even more worried by the professor's strange behaviour. "I had— well, it doesn't matter," she finished sheepishly.

"Bad dreams?" Severus asked quietly. His gaze flickered over to the fireplace, but he couldn't— he couldn't bring himself to leave.

"Yes, actually," Hermione said. "How did you know?"

"In these dark times, we all have bad dreams," Severus said.

Hermione looked up at him in wordless surprise, and Severus felt a smile threaten to overtake his lips.

"Shit," he said instead, and he dove for the fireplace.

Hermione gaped at him as it whisked him away in a rush of floo powder. He didn't once meet her eye.

August 5th, 1995 (late morning)

"And then he just disappeared!" Hermione finished her tale, exulting in the quiet gasps from her captive audience.

"Just like that?" Harry said in amazement.

"Just like that," Hermione confirmed. They were sitting on Harry's bed, her, Harry, and Ron, and she was telling them about Professor Snape's strange visit to the kitchen last night.

"He's finally gone round the bend," Ron said, sounding much too pleased by the idea.

"Or maybe he was injured!" Harry said in excitement.

"Harry!" Hermione scolded. "You shouldn't be happy that a teacher, not to mention an Order member, might be inured!"

"But think about why he was injured," Harry insisted. "He must've been doing something for the Order, if he came here!"

"Or maybe You-Know-Why cursed him," Ron pointed out. "He's a bit nutters with his followers, isn't he?"

Harry frowned in consideration. "Maybe," he grudgingly admitted. He very much wanted this to be a sign that the Order was doing something to fight back against Voldemort. Even if Harry himself couldn't be apart of it, just the knowledge that they were doing something instead of sitting around on their arses would be a huge relief.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said, since she was pretty sure they were wrong regardless. "The important thing is that I think he's finally warming up to me."

It'd only taken a month and a half of working together.

At the end of fourth year, Hermione's parents had picked her up from the train station as usual. Unfortunately, they'd run into Lucius Malfoy while leaving, who'd given them some very dirty looks. Hermione hadn't wanted to tell her parents too much of what was going on, since she knew they would worry, but she wasn't an idiot. If they were in danger, they needed to know.

After weeks of discussion, which had one point had included Albus Dumbledore himself visiting her house and talking to her parents, her parents had finally started taking the threat seriously. They'd agreed to go into hiding in one of the Order's muggle safe houses. (Her parents hadn't been able to come to Grimmauld Place because of the muggle-repelling wards.)

In order to keep them hidden, however, Hermione hadn't been able to go with them. The Order didn't have the resources to get proper wards, which meant that it had been safer to get no wards at all, to hide them in muggle obscurity. Having a witch living with them would have lit up the house like a beacon.

Hermione was conflicted about this. While she did truly miss her parents, part of her was also… well, relieved to be spending the summer in the Wizarding World. The older she got, the harder it was for her to go back to being a muggle every summer. Part of her still felt like if she left, if she didn't keep an eye on magic all the time, it would disappear like she'd never even had it.

Like she'd dreamed the whole thing.

So she'd been very pleased to be spending the summer in Grimmauld Place, where even if she still couldn't cast magic herself, she was still living in a magical house, with other magic-users.

This actually turned out to be less fun than she'd hoped.

The adults were incredibly busy, and largely left her to her own devices. The first week, she'd made a thorough investigation of the Black Library. Much to her pleasure, in the process she'd also found copies of the fifth year texts.

She spent the second week doing all her summer work.

By the third week… She was ready to go crazy. It turned out spending three straight weeks in a dimly lit house without once ever going outside was not conductive to one's mental health. Hardly ever seeing anyone else didn't help, either. The only other person who was actually staying at the house was Sirius Black, and he almost never came out of his room. Hermione didn't know what he did in there, and she didn't want to know.

Thankfully, at the end of that week there'd been an Order meeting. Hermione had come downstairs to the kitchen afterwards to get some water, and she'd found Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape arguing in the kitchen.

Professor McGonagall had asked her how her summer was going, and when Hermione mentioned that she was going insane with boredom, Professor McGonagall had turned to Professor Snape with a glint in her eye, and immediately suggested (in such a manner as to imply that it was not at all a suggestion) that Professor Snape let Hermione assist with the huge brewing load he'd just been complaining about.

Professor Snape, despite looking like he wanted to set fire to the house, had agreed (after a brief glaring context with Professor McGonagall that he'd apparently lost), and thus had started one of the most interesting summers of Hermione's life.

Professor Snape was… well, he was a bloody brilliant potion's master, excuse her language. He was impatient and tetchy, but for the most part seemed content to ignore her outside of giving her tasks and instructions. They'd quickly fallen into a, if not companionable, at least moderately comfortable silence.

This was aided by Hermione's inability to not be polite and follow instructions. Although she didn't know it, she'd been one of the best student assistants that Snape had ever had, solely because of her ability to just shut up and brew, something which most teenagers… lacked.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, startling her out of her narratively convenient stupor.

"What? Oh, right, sorry. So breakfast then?" Hermione said, smiling as Harry and Ron's face predictably lit up.

The kitchen was mostly empty, except for Sirius. He was sitting at the table, mug of tea clenched firmly in hand, staring wide-eyed down at the table. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his pale face had taken on a sickly tinge to it.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, taking the seat across from him without thinking about it. Harry raised his eyebrows at her, and Hermione instantly felt guilty. How unfair was it, that Harry had to spend the summer with his awful relatives while Hermione spent it with the one parental figure Harry had? She wished she could take back the whole summer and give it to him instead.

"I'm fine," Sirius said gruffly, not looking at her.

"You don't look fine," Harry protested, sitting down next to the man.

Ron seemed to think they had the situation well in hand, because he went to investigate the contents of the pans sitting out on the stove. He seemed to be pleased with what he found, for he immediately started loading a plate up.

Sirius glanced up at Harry with a small smile. "I always look fine," he said, his joking tone falling flat. "It's been great having people in the house again," he said, and this time he sounded more genuine. "No offence, Hermione."

"But?" Hermione prompted, and Sirius sighed. Harry looked over at her again, seemingly more confused than anything by her familiarity.

"The summer's gone by so quickly. You've only just arrived, Harry, and it's already August. Soon you'll be back to school." Sirius looked up at Harry and gave him an awkward smile before lowering his eyes again.

"Remus will be back soon, won't he?" Harry asked worriedly.

Sirius shrugged, not saying anything.

Hermione stared at Sirius, her mind racing. Although they'd spent most of the summer doing their own thing, you didn't live with someone for two months without picking up a little bit about them. And she recognised now something in Sirius that she couldn't believe she hadn't noticed before. Sirius wasn't just lonely and restless. He was bored, genuinely and utterly without any sort of intellectual engagement.

She would've thought that nothing could be more boring than Azkaban, but she had no idea what prison had been like for Sirius. What she could understand, however, was that Sirius needed a project.

And hadn't she just been talking to other day to two mischievous idiotic inventors looking for guidance on expanding into products that could help the war effort?

"Hey Sirius," Hermione said, and after a moment he finally looked up at her. "Do you think you have time to help out with a project?"

"What kind of project?" Sirius asked warily, but she could see a glint of interest in his eyes.

Harry and Ron's questioning looks turned to smiles as Hermione explained what the twins were doing.

For the first time all summer, Hermione saw a genuine smile on Sirius' face.

"I think I have a few ideas we could try," he said.

August 9th, 1995

Severus was going crazy. He knew it, the house elves knew it, the little man who lived in his ceiling and kept talking to him knew it. Truthfully, he'd been expecting this to happen eventually. Really, he was just surprised it'd taken so long.

"—erus? Severus!" the little man called.

He sounded strangely like Albus.

Severus groaned, and tried to push himself up off the floor. Instead, he only managed to roll himself over.

"What in the blazes is wrong with him?" a voice, sounding suspiciously like Minerva's, asked.

"Severus, can you speak?" the little man asked.

A groan was the only response.

"Merlin, what did you drink?" the other voice asked in awe.

"Minerva, go fetch Poppy, would you? She'll know what to do."

"Of course, Albus, right away." Footsteps leading away, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing.

Albus Dumbledore crouched down next to the prone figure of Severus Snape, his knees popping. "Alright, Severus. What did you drink?"

"A tincture of wormwood," Severus finally admitted, not looking up.

"Absinthe? Really? That's a rather… interesting choice."

"I think I'm going to die," Severus said, and Albus could hear the truth in his words.

"Let me get you a potion. You'll feel better in a moment, I promise you."

"I'll never feel anything ever again," he moaned.

Albus tried to suppress his smile, then realised that Severus couldn't see it anyway. He grinned. "And how are you liking the ground?"

"The ground is my new master," came Severus' muffled voice. "I shall never escape her cold, dead grasp."

"Ah, the ground is a woman then?" Albus asked, chortling. He searched through Severus' desk for a hangover potion. It wouldn't cure his hangover, but the combination hydration draught and headache potion would hopefully stop him from wanting to kill himself.

"The ground is a cruel mistress," Severus affirmed.

"Ahah! Never fear, my boy, you'll soon be back on your feet."

"I'd honestly rather die."

Albus crouched down next to Severus' body, vial in hand. "Roll over so I can give this to you," he instructed, and watched in amusement as Severus wobbled around weakly. "Come on, give it a try."

This time, Severus managed to push himself back onto his back, and he stared up at the ceiling with lifeless dead eyes. "Kill me," he croaked, the depths of despair written on his face. "I beg of you, kill me, and end my suffering."

"I take it the absinthe didn't agree with you then," Albus said, and poured the vial down Severus' throat before he could respond.

Severus swallowed instinctually, undoubtedly recognising the taste of something that would make him feel better. He closed his eyes, breathing out slowly as the potion began to take effect.

"Better?" Albus asked, unable to keep his grin off his face as Severus opened his eyes once more.

"Marginally," Severus said stiffly, but he managed to push himself to a sitting position with nothing more than a wince.

"Care to tell me why you—"

"Severus!" Poppy cried, bursting through the door. "Minerva said you were dying!"

"I was hardly dying," Severus protested. Then he paused. "I merely wished for death." Standing in the doorway while Poppy rushed over, Minerva rolled her eyes.

"What happened to you?" Poppy said, crouching down next to him and casting diagnostic spells.

"Ah, sadly, Severus fell to the lure of the most vile of magics: that of the green fairy," Albus said, enjoying himself far more than was reasonable. Severus seemed to agree, judging by the death glare he sent him.

"The gree— Absinthe?! Really, Severus? After what happened last time?" Poppy clucked disapprovingly, lowering her wand again. "Well you seem to be functioning well enough now, but you'll want another potion in an hour. Do you have another?"

"I have enough to last me a lifetime of poor decisions," Severus muttered, not meeting Minerva's eye, who was shaking with silent laughter.

"Honestly, Severus, what happened to you? This is most unlike you!" Poppy's voice held genuine worry. She'd always been kind to him, even when he'd been a student here himself. Albus thought Severus must genuinely like her quite a bit, in order to let her get away with mothering him as much as she did.

"Lots of things are unlike me," Severus muttered, proving that he did, in fact, still need mothering. "And yet, here we are."

"I think perhaps Severus isn't quite ready to talk about it," Albus said diplomatically.

"Albus, do you know?" Minerva asked, her curiosity making her indelicate. Not that Gryffindors were delicate at the best of times, alas. A failing Albus found himself intimately familiar with.

"I have my suspicions, and I have no doubt that in time Severus will tell you as well. However, currently he is… not in the best state to talk about it," Albus said, casting a pointed eye to where Severus sat miserably on the floor.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Poppy said pointedly, getting to her feet. "Drink lots of water, Severus. I'm going to be keeping a close eye on you, do you hear me?"

"Yes, Poppy," Severus responded, sounding very put-upon.

Poppy rolled her eyes, but followed Minerva out the door, closing it gently behind her.

They sat in silence for a moment; Albus waiting patiently. He'd played this game before. He was something of an expert at it, in fact.

Eventually, he won.

"It's the girl," Severus said suddenly, breaking the silence. He drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He looked… young. "Or no, it's not her. It's me. I'm the problem."

"You're not a problem," Albus said, knowing his words would be ignored but needing to say it anyway.

"These feelings, Albus— they're a poison, dripping through my mind and corrupting every bit of who I once was. Who am I, in the face of such passion? Who am I, but a carrier for the love I'd never earned?" And wasn't it so like the young to be overly preoccupied by their own melodrama. Even Severus wasn't immune to the lure of dramatic over-exaggeration.

"You're Severus Snape. You've been cursed, yes, but you're still you. It doesn't matter who you love."

"It's not who, it's how. Every time I close my eyes, I see her face. I dream of her voice, of her soft smiles and fierce intelligence, her— She's fifteen," he reminded himself, voice hollow. "And I'm a monster."

Albus crouched down next to him again, ignoring the creaking of his joints. "Dear boy, you're hardly a monster," he said sadly. "Do you know the difference between a monster and a man?"

"What?" Severus asked, voice muffled.

"Both have capacity for great evil. Both can hurt those around them. But a monster does not care. A monster does not feel the pain of others, does not feel the consequences of his actions. A monster hurts people, and feels no remorse. You, my boy, are no monster."

Severus looked up from his knees. "I recognise that speech," he said, eyes narrowing.

Albus sighed. "Yes. I gave it to you many years ago. It's one of my favourites, actually," he admitted. He stood up, and reached out a hand. "Hopefully it works better now than it did last time."

Severus reluctantly let Albus pull him to his feet. "It didn't work at all last time," he said crossly.

"Severus, this was exactly what Bellatrix intended when she cursed you. You think you're the first professor to fantasise about his students? You do remember Slughorn, do you not?"

Severus winced. "Unfortunately."

"At least you have the benefit of being unwilling. And, of course, I trust you won't act on these… desires."

"Of course not!"

"Well then. Frankly, I don't see the problem. You've been a spy for years. What's one more lie?"

"It's hardly that simple!" Severus complained, throwing his hands up in the air. "This job you've asked me to do requires such a delicate balance, merely the wrong look at the wrong time would send the whole scheme spinning into disarray!"

"Do you not feel you are up to the task?" Albus asked, because he was a conniving old man and he'd known Severus far long enough to have learned what buttons to press.

Severus stared at him, stunned. "Albus," he said carefully, not meeting the elder's eyes. "What would you do, for love?"

Albus' confidence of a moment ago fled. He'd been relying on Severus for so much, for so long, that he'd forgotten that the man was simply… human. Like the rest of them. "Research the curse. As well you can, in the time you have. I will talk to Bill Weasley about possible techniques for removing it. However… Would it be possible to simply tell Tom what happened? Bellatrix Lestrange is ultimately at fault for this, not you. Perhaps this incident might even work in your favour, and further lessen her position within the Inner Circle."

"I'm not sure," Severus admitted. "He's always played us against each other, as long as it doesn't interfere in his plans." Severus assumed Bellatrix's end goal was to humiliate him. That was often her intention. But who had she intended him to fall in love with? Albus, perhaps?

"It's something to think about," Albus said with a sigh, and Severus wondered for a mad moment if he'd read his mind. "Regardless, if you wish to keep this a secret, we will have to come up with some explanation as to why you no longer hate Miss Granger."

Severus flinched at the name. "She was working as my assistant over the summer. Is it no surprise that we could become more cordial?" He carefully controlled his face so as to not reveal his true intentions.

"We could hardly spread the rumour that you two spent the summer together. But it is not unheard of for professors to take assistants during the semester."

Severus did not reveal his eagerness at the idea. "As a favour to Minerva, of course."

"Of course." Albus gave him a long, evaluating look. "Neither of you are popular among the student body," he said frankly. "There will always be rumours."

"As long as there aren't enough rumours for Bellatrix to learn anything concrete. I imagine idle school gossip will be preferable to the truth."

"Many things are," Albus agreed.

August 11th, 1995

It took Severus a few days to work up the courage to go to Grimmauld Place. And yet, somehow, he felt it took all his willpower to stop himself from running there at the first hint of an actual excuse.

He needed to see the library. The curse Bellatrix used was utterly unfamiliar to him— he'd never even heard of such a thing. Since the Headmaster hadn't either, that suggested that Bellatrix was using extremely dark magic, which she'd had to have learned somewhere. Since it seemed unlikely that the Dark Lord had taught her that particular spell (given his frequently proclaimed disdain for anything relating to the weak human emotion that was love), that meant that Grimmauld Place was the only other logical place to start.

Severus wasn't expecting much, frankly (as if his luck were ever that good), but perhaps he'd be able to find a hint of the right direction to look in. For the time being, he didn't know anything about the curse.

It was difficult to detect curses at the best of times, and when they were cast on a magical person, it became almost impossible unless you already knew what you were looking for. The person's own magic would almost always obscure the magic of the curse, essentially hiding it from view. So far, Albus had only managed to see that the strength was staying constant in time, which meant it wasn't going to fade on its own, something Severus had already suspected.

He decided his best bet was to go at night, when no one would be awake. He could slip in, do his research, and slip out without anyone being the wiser. (Not that he didn't have express permission from Albus to be there, but the last thing he wanted was to have to explain himself. Especially not to Black, of all people.)

Of course, he'd forgotten that his luck was deplorable.

The kitchen light was on as he passed by on the way to the library. He hesitated for a moment, wondering desperately if it was her… She'd been up late last time he'd been here, as well.

He desperately wanted to see her again, but what could he possibly say? It took every ounce of his willpower to keep moving (although his efforts were aided by the intense self-loathing he felt), but he managed to force himself past the door and into the calm silence of the library.

Severus had always felt at home in libraries. As a child, he'd often spent time in the small local library to avoid being at home. The librarians had always been kind to him, undoubtedly feeling pity for the pathetic creature he'd once been. (And perhaps still was.)

At Hogwarts, the library had been something of a refuge as well. The one place in the school where he could relax, under the merciless watch of the librarian of the time. It had made him feel less lonely, to be surrounded by people, even if most of them didn't like him very much. Lily had loved the library as well, and was always content (when they were younger, at least), to spend the weekends studying together in industrious silence. And of course, Black and his gang of fools had been less likely to torment him in the library, wary of being banned.

Severus inspected the shelves hopelessly. While the library was decently well-stocked, for a private library, it hardly compared to the size of the Hogwarts library. Certainly he wouldn't be able to conduct his entire search tonight, but even if he had to search the entire room he'd be able to finish before the start of the semester.

Many of the books were old enough that they didn't have indexes or even a table of contents, but Severus knew a spell that would let him search a written text for words of his choosing, even when the text was grossly misspelled.

He'd just found what looked like a promising book on unconventional curses, when the door to the library swung open.

Miss Granger blinked in surprise upon seeing him. "Sorry, professor," she said, pulling her robe tighter around her. "I didn't realise you were the one in here."

"Who did you think it was?" Severus asked curiously. A week ago he would've merely stared at her until she left. Now he was engaging her in conversation. Merlin be damned, this semester was going to be utterly deplorable.

"I thought maybe Harry or Sirius," she admitted freely.

Severus realised, with a sudden start, that Miss Granger was living with Sirius Black and Harry Potter, two of the people he despised more than anything. A brief, mad thought of rescuing her dashed through his mind before he came to his senses. If anything, that would simply inspire them to rescue her from him.

"Do they often inhabit the library late at night?" Severus asked, only one step away from being officially snarky. "Or indeed, at all?" There it was, the last step.

Miss Granger shrugged. "Sirius does, actually. He keeps odd hours, too."

That… was actually useful information. Severus assumed he'd be unmolested by the owner of the house, but if Black made a habit of visiting the library after hours they'd eventually run into each other. He'd better have the letter from Albus prepared then. Perhaps he'd come back in the day next time, as well, so that Black would know to expect him. Or would that only leave him vulnerable to any traps? Of course, after the first time he met Black in the library, he'd be vulnerable regardless, and that first meeting had the possibility of going very sour…

"I'll just go to bed then," Miss Granger said, giving up on waiting for him to respond.

"Wait," Severus said automatically, then cursed himself when she actually turned back towards him. What was he supposed to say? "Have you finished brewing the Invigoration Draught?" Of course she had. It'd been weeks.

"Yes, professor," she said, and if she was insulted, she hid it well under a mask of resigned tolerance.

"My brewing time will be limited for the remainder of the summer. Brew the Enchantment Enhancer by yourself, if you feel up to the task." Merlin, was he acting different? He found he couldn't quite tell. Was it kindness, giving her a choice, or cruelty, implying that she might not be up to the task? Desperately, Severus tried to keep his thoughts from swirling out of control. He hadn't been this anxious since he'd been a teenager.

Of course, he hadn't been in love since he'd been a teenager, either. This was most inconvenient.

"Alright, professor," Miss Granger said. She seemed pleased enough with the instruction. Severus barely avoided breathing a sigh of relief.

"One last thing… The Deputy Headmistress has requested that I continue to utilise your assistance into the school year," Severus said, not bothering to mask his distaste at the plan. He did mask his reluctant excitement, however. "Provided you are amenable?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Of course, professor!" Miss Granger said in amazement. "I have no problem with that."

Severus sighed, pleased by her reaction despite himself. "Very well then. You may go."

She nodded at him as she left the library, a small smile on her face. She closed the door softly behind her.

Severus stared at the book in his hand, suddenly a lot less interested in curses than he had been a moment ago.

September 1st, 1995

The last few weeks of summer passed with hardly any relevance to the plot at all. The trio, aided by Sirius Black, had their fair share of adventures cleaning Grimmauld Place, but undoubtedly the story of the Infestation of the Magical Killer Wasps would be of no interest to you, dear reader. Nor would the Mystery of the Windy Hallway nor the Infestation of the Magical Killer Wasps II: Revenge of the Wasp Queen.

Suffice to say, the rest of the summer passed with absolutely nothing of interest occurring at all.

Except, of course, for Sirius' burgeoning correspondence with the Weasley twins, and thus his renewed lease on life as he delved into his new project with a mad purpose. The enchanted mirror he'd originally intended to give to Harry had been given to the twins instead, to aid their long discussions on spellcrafting theory. Sirius spent more time studying than he had even before his NEWTs.

"You know, Hermione," Harry said, as they sat in an otherwise empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express, waiting for the train to depart. "I think this is the first summer I've had since starting Hogwarts where nothing crazy's happened to me. Even you had a more eventful summer than I did, what with your parents and working for Snape and everything!"

"Only you would say needing to be rescued from your relative's house and spending the rest of the summer in a haunted secret headquarters with your escaped convict godfather isn't crazy," Hermione huffed, but there was a slight smile on her lips nonetheless.

"And don't forget about Kreacher!" Ron added, with a shudder. "That elf gives me the creeps. He's definitely crazy enough to count."

"Yeah, okay," Harry said, grinning in reluctant amusement. "I guess you guys are right."

What Harry didn't know, however, was that he was no longer the protagonist. No, he'd been downgraded to nothing more than a side character— something he wouldn't realise until far, far too late.

Of course, we don't really care when Harry realised that his protagonist status had ben revoked.

No, the important question is… when did Hermione realise?