Chapter 1

Who are you?" asked a frightened, cautious Hermione.

"Get . . . out!" came the angry reply.

"But please, I want to help." She reached out a helping hand to the bandage covering the man's face.

He turned his back on her, and took a tentative step forward, as though he were afraid he might trip and fall.

Hermione could tell that he was becoming exceedingly uncomfortable in her presence, but she could not pull herself away from him. "Sir, please. I can help. I'm the only one that can." Hermione's emotions were going haywire. Her entire body was screaming at her to run, yet her heart was telling her to stay, to ignore the angry man and reach out with every fiber of her being. She was scared, sad, ecstatic, and at peace, all at the same time. Not the temporary peace she felt while in Ireland, but peace such as she had never felt before in her entire life. The kind of peace that brings hope.

"I don't need your help, and I don't want your sympathy! Now, I said, get . . . out!"

Hermione stepped around to the front of the mysterious man and reached for the bandage on his face. As soon as she touched it, her wrist was seized in a vise like grip. Undeterred, she lifted her other hand and with one swift movement she removed the bandage.

For one brief moment, her breath caught in her throat. Then horrified, she screamed.

Hermione awoke in a cold sweat. She sat up in her bed, and wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. She sighed wearily and looked at her clock, three-thirty in the morning. She groaned and lay heavily back down, curling into the fetal position and throwing a pillow over her head, trying to block out the image she had been seeing in her dreams for the past three years. She knew the next part of the dream, like she knew 'Hogwarts: A History,' and it always left her frightened and confused.

Her attention was turned to her window as she heard a faint tapping. She lit a lamp and hurried to let the owl in. It hopped lightly to her shoulder and she rubbed its beak as it stuck out its leg and offered the message.

Hermione untied the ribbon, and watched as the owl, its job done, took off gracefully into the star strewn sky. She glanced at the envelope as she walked slowly back to her bed. She recognized the seal on the back and the elegant script on the front, at once. She sat on her bed and, wondering what in the world was so important that Minerva McGonagall would disrupt her, when she knew full well that she was on holiday and didn't want to be disturbed. She quickly ripped the envelope and pulled out the letter.

Miss Granger,


I am so sorry to interrupt your well-deserved rest. Please know that if I felt this wasn't of utmost importance, I wouldn't have sent this owl until you returned to London next week. However, being as it is, I must ask that you give this matter serious consideration.

There will be representatives from St. Mungo's here, the day after tomorrow, to institutionalize Severus. We have had too many students complaining about the noise coming from his quarters. Even the Bloody Baron and Peeves will no longer venture anywhere near his room.

I know I have never been his biggest fan, but I don't think being put in hospital would be best for him. I know he will not go without a fight, and someone is bound to be injured.

Minister Shacklebolt has given you a glowing recommendation. He has told me that you have worked miracles on even the most troubled adolescents. I know that Severus is no longer a teenager, but I am hoping you will be able to get through to him. Perhaps if the representatives see what an adept counselor he has, they will give him a bit more time.

I would just let the healers take him, but since, well, you know, he has known nothing but his dungeon quarters. I think removing him from the only thing he knows would be the worst for him. What I really need right now is a Gryffindor, and there is no one more 'Gryffindor' than you. I have a sneaking suspicion that you will be exactly what he needs.

Hoping to see you soon,
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress

Hermione re-read the letter three times over. Why would they think that she would be the best for the job. Surely there were others, more qualified. He would probably do better in St. Mungo's.

She sighed and rose from her bed. She couldn't say no, not with everything McGonagall had done for her in the past. She haphazardly packed a few articles of clothing and toiletries and grabbed her jar of floo powder. She stepped into her fireplace, threw a handful of glittering powder at her feet and said, "McGonagall's office, Hogwarts." The familiar green flames rose and Hermione was carried away to land moments later on the hearth of the Headmistress' office.

The room was empty, so Hermione decided that she would do as she was asked. She descended the spiral staircase from McGonagall's office and wandered along the empty, darkened corridors. They were ominous. Eerily quiet.

She slowly made her way down to the dungeons. If she thought the upper floors were ominous, it was nothing to how she was feeling now. There wasn't even the sound of mice scurrying along the floors. The only sound was that of her own feet, they sounded ten times louder than they should, on the cold, stone floor. She wanted to turn around and run, and never look back. It was the beginning of the nightmare she'd had nearly every night for what seemed like ages. Chills ran up and down her spine, and despite the muggy heat, she felt cold. She hugged herself tightly and forced herself to move, step by terrified step. An argument was playing in her mind. 'What are you so afraid of? Sure he's a horrible person. He's always had a less than desirable personality, but you'd survived as his student for seven years. This should be a piece of cake.' 'Yeah, but he's different now. Angrier, if possible, than he ever has been. And who knows what he is now capable of.'

She reached Snape's door before she was ready, and the words of McGonagall's letter came flittering to her mind, 'There is no one more Gryffindor than you.' She took a deep breath and knocked, not caring that it was barely four-thirty in the morning.

"Go away!" hissed the angry voice.

"I'm not going away, Professor, so you may as well let me in."

There was no reply.

Hermione stepped back and said, loud enough that Snape could hear her, "Alohamora." And the lock clicked.

Hermione stepped boldly inside before he could re-lock the door, and prevent her from entering. As soon as she closed the door behind her, the smell hit her. The room smelled of rotting flesh and body odor, and immediately she wished she hadn't been able to come in. Once she actually thought about it, it was all too simple. She should not have been able to get in with just a simple unlocking charm. Her throat went dry, and her heart began its attempted escape from her chest. It was pitch black, and deathly silent. "Hello?" she squeaked. "Professor, are you in here?"

An iron cold hand grasped her wrist and spun her around. Though she could not really see him, standing in front of her was the man from her nightmares. Bandages were covering his once black, fathomless eyes. She was mentally preparing herself for the sight that would meet her once the bandages were removed.

"I. . .said. . .get. . .OUT!" came the menacing voice.

"No!" she stated fiercely, straightening her back and jutting out her chin in stubbornness. "Now, let go of me, before I jinx you into oblivion, and save the world the trouble of trying to save you!"

He shoved her arm roughly away. "I didn't ask to be saved, and I don't need the help or sympathy from anyone, let alone, the likes of you."

"Well, then, I guess we're going to have a grand old time, now, aren't we. I'm so glad I came home from Ireland for this." She waved her wand and lit the lamps in the room. Instantly, she wished she hadn't. Her mind took in several things at once. She saw several rats scamper away as soon as the lights assaulted their eyes. The room was in shambles. End-tables were overturned, broken dishes were strewn across the floor, and the rotting flesh she smelled when she first entered was coming from the corner where, judging from the scorch marks on the walls, it looked as though a misfired spell had ricocheted from wall to wall, finally hitting an unfortunate rat. Hermione's stomach rolled as the stench of the half-decayed rodent filled her nostrils. But what most made her regret lighting the lamps was the look on her ex-professor's face.

His paper white, almost translucent face was twisted in agony as he lifted his arm to block out whatever blinding light that the bandage refused to keep out. "Turn out the lights!" he bellowed.

Hermione didn't hesitate, and once again they were enveloped by darkness. "I'm sorry, Professor. I had no idea it would be painful for you." She looked around the room, seeing nothing but the pitch blackness around her. "Professor, could I maybe light one lamp? It'll make it awfully difficult to clean up this place if I can't see what I'm doing. I may end up vanishing something that isn't supposed to be vanished. I promise, I will only use the barest amount of light."

"I had no idea McGonagall sent for a maid. It's a shame if you ask me. A brain like yours amounting to nothing more than a housekeeper. Very well, do as you must, but not until I have left the room. And please, get rid of that stench. I tried to do it myself, following the smell, but I think I vanished a bookshelf instead," he mused angrily.

"Oh, Professor, I'm not a mai. . ." She let her voice trail off when she heard a door slamming to the left of her. She sighed, lit a lamp and set to work cleaning the atrocious living quarters, thinking, 'I left my parent's cabin for this? I'll have to go back for Hope. I don't want her to think I abandoned her. I didn't even get to say goodbye.'

It took her thirty-five minutes to make the place look as though it were inhabited by humans, and that's saying a lot, as it would have taken even the fastest Muggle at least three days to make it look as though it did right now. Getting rid of the dead rat did wonders for the smell, but there was still a lingering odor, so Hermione conjured a pineapple and citrus candle to help cover the scent, while opening the door and putting a fan at the frame to blow the rotten stench out.

Finally satisfied with how the place looked and smelled, she settled in on the sofa to possibly catch a few more hours of much needed sleep.