Chapter One

Blessed are the merciful; for they will be shown mercy.

Severus had literally stumbled onto Miss Granger while out collecting moon lilies. He cursed as he had to catch himself on a nearby tree to keep from sprawling out in the snow as she was. He didn't know why she was lying there on the ground like that, but she meant trouble for him, beyond just making him trip, and he considered for a moment leaving her there. Perhaps she had just gotten tired and had laid down to sleep. The puddle of blood, however, suggested otherwise.

I should leave her here, he thought, fear crowding out all rational thought. She can only bring me trouble.

Panicked, he glanced around to see if anyone else was around. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that she was a snare, a trap, to bring him in to face justice. Well, he had had his day in court. Several in fact, and now he just wanted to be left alone. He was no longer a threat to anyone, and he couldn't understand why people couldn't just leave him in peace.

He gently kicked her, trying to rouse her, but to no avail. He tried kicking harder. She continued to just lie there. With a sigh, he leaned down and pushed her over onto her back. Her face was bruised and battered, blood trickled from her mouth and nose. Her cloak was torn in several places, and Severus could see that they tore through to the skin beneath.

And then there was a lingering aura surrounding her. He had been a Death Eater and had studied the Dark Arts for many years. He knew black magic when he saw it, and this girl had been on the receiving end of a very Dark spell.

This was no trap. Something or someone had attacked her. If he left her here, she would die. Exposure combined with her injuries would kill her slowly. Her lips were already blue. How long had she been out here?

An unexpected fit of consciousness welled up within him. Blocking out thoughts of the inevitable shrieks of horror when she realized who had saved her, he picked her up gingerly. Cradling her limp body in his arms, he made his way back down the hill to his small shack.

Kicking open the door, he looked at the couch and then through to the bedroom. If he put her in his bed, he would be forced to sleep out here. But the couch wasn't that comfortable. If she moved at all, she would fall off into the floor. Gritting his teeth, he bypassed the small living room and carried her into the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed, his eyes taking in her condition while he decided what to do next.

He really should call for someone. But his fireplace wasn't connected to the Floo network, and any owl would be traced back here. He wanted to help, but he wasn't willing to sacrifice his solitude for her. She already had his bed.

He considered Apparating to Saint Mungo's and just depositing her there and Apparating back, but for some reason he balked at this idea. Those dunderheads they called Healers had probably never even seen this curse. He had seen it only twice before, from the same wizard who had invented it. He wasn't even sure of its name, only that is was often deadly. Apparently, that person had taught it to someone else, someone who was in the area and hexing Severus' former students.

Whatever he decided to do, he needed to do it quickly. Going into the bathroom, he collected several potions bottles. They wouldn't cure her, but they would make her more comfortable in the meantime while he brewed the potion that would drain the Dark magic from her body.

Just how do I get her to drink it? he thought, standing back over the bed. He had only brewed the potions for the infirmary at Hogwarts. He had never been in charge of dispensing them before. That had been Poppy's unfortunate task. Severus realized that getting unconscious people to drink potions was an involved process.

After a few moments of strategizing, he finally settled on pinching her nose and tipping the potion back. He massaged her throat to get her to swallow. With that task finished, he contemplated her other injuries. Her clothes were torn, and he could see that her skin was marked as well, but to be sure, he would have to undress her. He gulped at the thought. It had been two years since he had last spoken to another human being, other than the grocer in the nearby Muggle village, and many, many years since he had last seen a woman naked.

Hermione Granger hardly qualifies as a woman, he told himself. She was his student.

That was years ago, his libido argued back. She's a woman now. His eyes agreed, noticing how well she filled out her robes. Only her wild curls and pert nose remained of the skinny impertinent girl he had taught so many years ago.

It was odd seeing a former student, especially like this. They had come into his classroom, and for seven years he had tried hard to impress upon them some knowledge that would help them get through life, but then he rarely saw them again after they left the castle, never knew if he had succeeded or failed miserably. Probably the latter in most cases. It appeared as though Miss Granger had learned nothing from the few short months he had taught her Defense Against the Dark Arts, allowing herself to be caught out in the woods as she had. If only there had been more time. If only things had been different—the same mantra that played in his head on an almost constant basis since that fateful day on the Astronomy tower.

But things aren't different, he thought harshly. And there was nothing he could do but help her now. Her robes were torn and spotted with blood. If he was going to save her, he would have to undress her and attend to her injuries.

Severus clenched his eyes shut and whispered the necessary charm. He peeked out of one eye. The deathly pallor of her face continued below, the dark red of the blood in high contrast to her pale skin. Tossing aside his hesitation, he went to work. Warmth flooded through his arm down his hand and out through his wand as he conjured the healing magic necessary to knit her wounds back together.

By the time he had finished, a sheen of sweat covered his brow. He didn't often have to perform magic at this level over a length of time, but there was little time to rest if Miss Granger was going to pull through this ordeal. He took an old robe from the wardrobe and Transfigured into a nightgown. Another whispered charm and she was dressed and tucked into bed. If not for the bruises and freshly closed cuts on her face, she would have been a picture of serenity. Instead, she looked small and vulnerable.

What had brought her out here at this time of night…and by herself? he wondered.

Does anyone even know she is here?

Questions plagued him. Had someone left her there to go for help? Would someone trace her back to him? The longer she stayed here, the more likely it was that someone tracked her back to him. But surely if someone had been with her, they wouldn't have left her there to be covered in snow. He had no proof, nothing more than a feeling, but he felt that Miss Granger had been alone tonight. Like him. And she needed his help.

He pushed away any thoughts of sympathy or ideas of protecting her. She was a nuisance to be rid of, and the sooner he brewed the potion needed to heal her completely, the sooner he could go back to being alone. And he liked being alone.

Going into the other room, he searched his stores for the necessary ingredients. With an efficiency honed after decades of meticulous brewing, he gathered the bottles and containers he would need. He filled a copper cauldron with a rosewater base and lit a low flame with his wand. Lining everything up in order it was to be added, he reached up on the shelf for the last ingredient, but instead of a small vial, he found nothing but empty space.

I thought for sure…

He checked again. Nothing.

He had everything but one—phoenix tears, a rare and expensive ingredient. One that the Ministry happened to monitor the sale of. The only way Severus would be able to get his hands on it without leaving a trail back to him would be the black market. He balled his fists up in frustration, resisting the urge to throw something.

Damn Miss Granger and her trouble-seeking ways! Damn her for finding her way to my door!

He hoped that his regular supplier, Saren, would be able to get his hands on some, and fast. Miss Granger was going to need it.

Severus pulled his cloak around him tightly as he crept through the deserted streets like a shadow. A generous hood obscured his face, an unneeded precaution in the dark of night with no one around, but he couldn't take any chances of being recognized. The Wizengamot had reluctantly acquitted him of any charges in regards to Dumbledore's death, but that hadn't stopped them from trying to bring other charges against him. They ranged from petty and small crimes to large ridiculous claims that he was worse than the Dark Lord himself had been. After several years of constant court dates, he had stopped trying to defend himself and had fled for the peace and security of solitude and anonymity.

But one misstep, one unlucky glance at his face, and they would be on his tail again. He knew of at least two outstanding warrants for him. He was certain there were more by now, perhaps even reward money for the person who managed to bring him in. The thought that Miss Granger had been sent to capture him had crossed his mind, and if that happened to be the case, he planned to heal her, Obliviate her, and then leave her in the middle of nowhere to find her way home. However, first he had to save her.

At the end of Knockturn Alley, Severus arrived at a heavy wooden door with a tarnished silver snake knocker. With it, he rapped twice, the sound magically muffled. He glanced around just to make sure no one had followed him while he waited for Saren to get out of bed. Not many people knew about this place outside of a few elite potions makers. Saren sold the finest ingredients and supplies the world's finest potion suppliers like Slug and Jigger's Apothecary. He sold directly only to a select group who were willing to pay, and he had always been able to get Severus what he needed with less trouble and paperwork than he would have to suffer elsewhere. They had a decades old relationship that had proved mutually beneficial, and Severus hoped he would come through for him again tonight.

The door creaked open several minutes later, a short, stumpy man stuck his head out. His short brown hair was matted to his head, and he rubbed at his eyes. Severus had obviously woken him up. "This had better be good," he squeaked.

"It is," Severus said, pushing past him.

"Snape! What do you want?" Saren closed the door quickly and followed him into the room.

"Quiet!" he ordered. "No one can know I am here."

"You say that every time," the small man said with a yawn. He wore a velvet dressing gown over a silk nightshirt, a testament to his success. The ornate décor of the sitting room was yet another. "What do you need that required you to wake me up in the middle of the night?"

"Phoenix tears." Severus went to stand by the fire, holding his hands out in an effort to warm them. It wasn't much warmer in London than it had been in the north.

"You're joking right? Do you know how hard those are to come by?" Saren said with a laugh. He sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs in the room, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

"I'm brewing the Evictus Potion," Severus explained, turning around.

"Why?" Saren stared at him, appraising his appearance. "You look fine to me."

"It's not for me. It doesn't matter why. Can you get it?"

Saren paused, wrinkling his brow as he considered the matter. He counted something off on his fingers and muttered under his breath. "It'll be expensive."

Severus nodded. He had expected that.

"Your grandfather's watch."

"No."

"Then I'm off to bed," Saren said, standing. Severus watched as the dwarf marched out of the room, leaving any hope of Miss Granger's survival with him. He thought about the watch sitting dusty in a forgotten drawer at home—his last connection to the Prince family name. Without that watch, he was nothing but a Snape, the son of a mill worker, a Muggle.

"Wait," he called. Saren stopped, but didn't turn around. "Fine," he relented.

"Excellent." Saren came back into the room, sitting down at the desk in the one corner and pulling out parchment and a quill. He began to scratch out a note.

"How long have you been waiting for an opportunity to swindle me out of that watch?" Severus asked.

"Since you showed it to me, all those years ago," Saren answered with a smirk, his quill pausing. Severus knew it had been a mistake to show such a precious heirloom to someone as conniving as Saren. And he certainly shouldn't have explained the extent of its magical properties in such detail. The minute Saren had heard that the watch could rewind time thirteen seconds, his eyes had lit up, and his smile had turned devious.

"You can have it on one condition."

"And what is that?" Saren asked suspiciously.

"Write it in to your will that I am to inherit it back."

"So that you can kill me. I think not."

Severus shook his head, affecting a look of dismayed hurt. "How could you think such a thing of me?" Saren snorted at this but Severus ignored him, continuing on. "Besides, if I got rid of you then who would I get my ingredients from? No one else would sell to me."

"What makes you think I'll die before you?"

"I don't know, but just in case I do go before you, the watch should stay in my family. It will be a loan of sorts. Yours for the rest of your life." Saren considered this, finally nodding slowly.

"None of my worthless sons would know what to do with it anyway," he said, holding out his hand. "I can trust you?" It was the same question he always asked Severus.

"No," he answered. It was the same response every time. You can always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest, a motto among thieves.

"Good, then it's a deal." Severus took his hand and shook it.

"When can you have it?"

"Two days. Will that be in time to save your princess?" Saren asked with a twinkle in his eye. He almost reminded Severus of the headmaster. All he needed was some insufferable Muggle candy.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Severus grumbled.

"Yes, you do. I hope she's worth it."

Severus didn't answer, but threw the hood of his cloak up and exited. With a pop, he Disapparated back to his tiny shack where Miss Granger laid waiting for him. He hoped so too.

She had a fever when he returned, her skin glistening when he went in to check on her. Severus didn't know what to do. The potions he had given her appeared to have little to no effect. The Dark magic from the curse coursed through her veins and it was all her immune system could do to keep up. Severus knew this spell. It was something between the Cruciatus and the Killing Curse. It killed you, but not right away. Instead, it was slow and painful.

A lone memory of his grandmother pressing a cool wet cloth to his forehead flashed through his mind.

"Good old fashioned medicine will take care of this," his grandmother had told him sternly. "None of this silly business your mother keeps trying." Young Severus could only nod meekly. His grandmother could be fierce when contradicted and he didn't dare tell her that his mum's medicines made him feel better almost instantly whereas her treatment left him in bed or in the loo for most of the day.

He didn't have any of his grandmother's nasty medications but a cold compress might help. Couldn't hurt at any rate. He went into the bathroom and returned with a wet washcloth. Hermione whimpered, in pain or at some imagined foe, he didn't know, when he placed it on her head.

"Shhh," he whispered. "You're safe now."

She calmed at his words, so he continued on. It was better than talking to himself, and it wasn't as if she would remember any of it later anyway.

"Foolish girl. I always thought it was your pathetic friends who got you into trouble, but I see you do well enough on your own." He paused a moment to brush away the hair from her face. Her left eye was black and blue, the eyelid swollen shut, made worse by the fact that her skin was a disturbing shade of white.

"You are going to be fine," he told her firmly, sounding more like the Professor Snape she knew. "Mainly, because I do not need a dead body on my hands. The authorities might start asking obnoxious questions." He said it sarcastically, but there was truth in it. He needed to brew that potion, and soon.

He left her in the bedroom and went into the main room, where he had started the potion. He didn't have the phoenix tears, but he could start brewing the base. It would take two days before it was ready for the final ingredient anyway. Taking a deep breath, he continued where he had started before he left for London. Minutes later and he had slipped into a comfortable rhythm, the same as he always did when he brewed potions. It was meditative, relaxing.

Several hours later, light peeked around the shades in the window before Severus finished with the first steps. He sighed as he finished with the last stir. Now it needed to simmer for twelve hours, and he needed to sleep. He looked at his lumpy couch ruefully, and then thought about the girl in his bed. Lying down, he cursed her again. She wasted his time, invaded his home, and stole his bed. He closed his eyes, shifting around to get comfortable. If she survived this ordeal, she was going to be getting a mouthful from him. He would make sure that she regretted ever crossing his path again.

He rolled over to fluff the cushion and fell into the floor with a grunt.

"Son of a…." he shouted, stopping short only because he was afraid the woman in the next room might hear him.

His voice echoed through the small house. He stood up quickly and brushed off his robes. That was it. He didn't care about propriety, Miss Granger's feelings, or the fact that he hadn't shared a bed with a woman, former student or otherwise, in over a decade. He marched into the bedroom, threw back the covers, and climbed in. He glanced over at Miss Granger. She remained still. If his yelling before hadn't woken her, then nothing would. Severus lay back with a sigh. She wouldn't wake for days; she would never know. And if he didn't get some sleep, he wouldn't be able to brew properly.

The next three days were a blur of caring for Miss Granger and tending to the potion. At some point, he managed to pull his grandfather's watch from its place in the back of a drawer. He dusted it off carefully, turning it over and over in his hands. It was heavy, the gold now dingy and tarnished. Maybe Saren would fix it up; he cared about such things. Wrapping his fingers around it, he held it to his chest, his eyes drifting shut as he thought about his grandfather.

Severus hadn't met him until after his mother's death. He had been seventeen, the summer between his sixth and seventh year at Hogwarts. A tall, wiry man with long gray hair approached him as he stood standing at the gravesite. He remembered that it had been raining, like the heavens had understood his pain, and the rain dripped down his nose, blending in with his tears.

"You her son?" the man had asked gruffly. Severus could tell he was a wizard by his robes. He wore Muggle clothing like he always did when away from Hogwarts, his father scoffing at the idea of men wearing what he thought looked like dresses.

"Yes."

The man looked him up and down, not appearing to be very pleased with what he saw. "Here," he said, shoving something into his hands. "This is meant to be passed down from father to son in the Prince family. I didn't have a son—" he looked disparagingly down at the granite tombstone—"so I suppose you'll have to do. Don't let that dirty Muggle of a father get his grubby hands on it, you hear."

Severus nodded. And then watched as he walked away. It wasn't until years later that he discovered that the watch did more than tell time.

But it didn't matter. He had never had occasion to use its special capabilities. And Miss Granger's life was more important than old heirloom from a man who hadn't really wanted him to have it in the first place.

He wrapped it up and sent it away without another thought with his owl, Icarus. The next day, the black bird returned with a package. Inside was a vial—the phoenix tears. He looked in his cauldron where the lumpy green liquid bubbled and steamed. With a steady hand, he poured in three drops, and then it stirred it four times. After two minutes, the potion changed to a light lavender color. It was done.

Quickly, he bottled it up and took it in to Miss Granger. Her condition had deteriorated in the last three days. Her skin was nearly gray and covered in sweat. She tossed and turned, moaning in pain, when he didn't keep her heavily sedated. He coaxed it down her throat, then took a step back and waited.

Moments passed with no change.

"Come on, you obstinate girl," he pleaded with her. He did not go to all this trouble, work straight through three days with little sleep, and give up the family watch just to watch her die.

Finally, her eyes fluttered open. She looked around, her gaze searching the room until it landed on him.

"You," she said. It was weak; almost a whisper, but he caught the accusation nonetheless. He hadn't expected gratitude, not really, but the venom in her voice still stung after all he had done.

"Yes, me. Though you really should show more respect for the person who has saved your life…once again," he added. He moved closer to feel her forehead. He needed to see to what extent the potion had worked. More than likely, she would need subsequent doses. Her eyes drifted shut only to fly open again as he approached. He stopped his hand, and stared down at her.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, trying to sound gentle. But from the fearful look in her eye, he could tell it had come out harsher than he had intended, a habit from his days of teaching he had yet to break. She didn't say anything, biting at her lip.

Well, at least she has learned some tact, he thought. He didn't notice that she had turned a nice shade of green until it was too late. Her silence had been more of necessity than politeness, though she did manage to mumble a soft "sorry" about the mess now dripping from his robes and boots. It was times like these that he was especially glad to be a wizard. With a wave of his wand, he cleaned the floor and himself, and then went into the bathroom to fetch another potion—something to calm her stomach. He should have remembered that the Evictus Potion sometimes had that effect.

"Here, drink this," he said when he returned, shoving it into her hands. "And then you can tell me what in the bloody hell you were doing out here in the first place."

Her hands shook as she downed the potion. "You," she said, her voice low and hoarse. "I was looking for you."