Weary Souls

Mornings were always too early.

Severus knew he was an even bigger bastard than usual on Monday mornings, not that anyone else could tell the difference. There was a large difference between waking as a spy and waking as a grouch. As a grouch, his brain took its merry time to start functioning.

With some effort, he slid his legs out from under the bedding and blearily stumbled out into the chilly dungeon air which he suffered each morning. The dungeons were always cold except during the summer months when the air became damp and stale. Warming charms only lasted so long, and he couldn't pull up the energy to cast them at the moment.

He questioned why he woke up so early each day; it was barely five. Because you're insomniac, bordering on insane. He had long ago resigned to the fact that his body and mind were too damaged for a full night of rest.

Every morning, he woke his body by pushing it through training which involved both physical and mental exercises. After training, he would start brewing potions for the hospital wing's stock to cool down from the exercises; brewing always helped lull his overactive mind.

At breakfast, Severus scowled into his plate. Seeing Hermione Granger at the Gryffindor table had reminded him of another reason to hate the world. Couldn't people just leave him alone?

"Severus, you'll burn your toast if you glare at it any harder," Minerva warned as she sat down next to him.

He merely grunted.

His morning class with Gryffindors and Slytherins was a disaster as always. Everyone was miserable as he thundered at the students, something he took pride in causing. Not only was it the highlight of his day, but it also kept the students in check. He stalked between desks, frightening and terrorizing with each step. But his irritation returned at full blast at Granger's perfectly executed potion. He began to spit out insults with increased fervor.

Potter, Weasley and Longbottom were his usual targets, but now he singled out Granger's every action. 5 points for raising her hand. 10 points for attempting to help Longbottom. 5 points for putting a jar where it could potentially be knocked down. 10 points for not stopping Longbottom's cauldron from exploding. By the end of class, Potter and Weasley looked as though they were about to whip out their wands to hex him, and Granger was seething. He seemed successful in getting her to hate him; maybe she would leave him alone now.

After the students filed out, Granger stood in front of his desk once more, visibly trying to calm her breathing.

"Professor, I-I apologize for the trouble I caused today," She said, biting her lip. "I would like to submit my research proposal," As she laid the parchment down with a steady hand, Severus's face took on a nasty sneer. "I would like to thank you for giving me this opportunity."

She had courage, the insufferable Gryffindor. Minerva would be proud.

"Dismissed," He snarled.

She jumped and fled the room once more.

Regardless of everything he tried, Severus couldn't ease the pounding in his head. He was so exhausted. He had just returned from another Death Eater meeting where a Muggle couple had been mangled to death. The sight had been sickening. He almost hadn't apparated back to Hogwarts in time to vomit out of view.

There was nothing he could do for his head other than to hide it behind Occlumency shields. He was banned from using Headache and Dreamless Sleep Potions since completing Poppy's addiction treatment only a month ago, ordered by Albus. The withdrawal had been almost as bad as his Death Eater initiation. Treatment had lasted the entire summer while he was still required to answer the Dark Lord's calls. The combined torture may have been the most excruciating and humiliating experience he had ever been trapped in; only his body's resilience and his mastery of Occlumency had kept him from succumbing to insanity.

His headache was intensifying and the temptation started wriggling in the back of his mind…his newly healed rib and sprained ankle certainly didn't help. Poppy had confiscated his entire stock. He wasn't even allowed to brew them for the infirmary.

With a grimace, he slammed his mental guards in place. He couldn't allow another slip of concentration as back in June. Resisting half an hour of Cruciatus after missing a dose of Headache Potion had wrecked his shields. Had the Dark Lord not been raging about Lucius's failure, he would most certainly have been discovered that night. Severus had immediately decided to end his dependency; suffering through withdrawal was much more appealing than a drawn-out, tortured death. Both were painful, but he would be alive after the first option.

Later that night, the Headmaster knocked on his door.

"What do you want?"

"Good evening, Severus," Albus swept in and sat in a hard wooden chair without answering.

"Yes, Albus, go ahead, feel free to make yourself at home," Severus said through gritted teeth.

"How are you faring?" This conversation had happened many times before.

"Marvelously. Just leave me alone for now, Albus, I'll go to your office later."

"I am worried about you, more so lately. How much worse has it become?"

Severus barked a hoarse laugh and collapsed into his armchair, "You don't want to know."

Albus flinched at the sound. "I am sorry…"

"Don't waste your breath."

"Is there no way to ease the pain?"

"No, as I have repeated before," Severus snapped with a sneer. "The Dark Lord knows there is a traitor among his ranks. He is trying to flush me out by using…unpleasant means on all of us."

Albus's eyes dulled.

"There is nothing to cry about. His mistrust is hindering his own progress."

"But Poppy…"

"The Dark Lord is planning something," Severus said abruptly. "He may be searching for an alternate source of power."

"…How?" Albus asked, deciding to let the matter go for now.

"There has recently been an influx of new faces. None, however, have been initiated. They work closely with the Dark Lord but never participate in Circle activity."

"What have you discovered?"

"I was able to identify of one of the men, Aswad Ahmet, from a potions conference many years ago. I traced him back to Egypt, but from there the tracks become vague," Severus raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "He may have been part of a department for misuse of magic or experimental magic or such within their equivalent of our Ministry, but nothing has yet been confirmed. Aside from an unofficial document mentioning his death, I have not found any record of him since then."

"Have you any guesses as to his purpose?"

"Research. Experimentation. Ancient magic. What worries me most is his Egyptian origin," He said as he leaned back with closed eyes. "We will need to contact Bill Weasley. That is all I have so far."

Albus studied his face. "Have you been sleeping?"

"That's none of your business."

There was a long pause, and Severus immediately knew the Headmaster was about to make an unwelcome request.

"Severus, it may aid you to take an assistant," He suggested. "I hear Miss Granger has shown interest in independent potions stu-"

"No."

"I believe it is just what you need."

"As I said earlier, don't waste your breath."

"You may be surprised."

"I do not need this on top of everything else, Albus."

"Give her a chance, Severus. It will take merely minutes of your time to look over her proposal."

"What use will it be?"

"You are best aware of your limits. She could reduce your load, perhaps even become an ally."

Severus shot one final half-hearted glare but knew he couldn't refuse.

"Don't raise your expectations, or have expectations at all," He said with a grimace.

"Thank you, Severus. It also seems Minerva has not yet been informed…" Albus gave him a knowing smile. "Lemon drop?"

"Go away."

At that, Albus swept out of the door as quickly as he had swept in, probably twinkling madly all the way to his office.

Sighing, Severus reached over and grabbed the offending parchment. Granger's proposal had sat untouched for days. He had decided if he had to suffer, so did she. But at Albus' word, he could no longer avoid it.

Gods, he didn't want to read this. He was being pushed and pulled from multiple directions: by Granger who wanted this badly enough to approach him, by Albus who had cornered him yet again, by a part of him that wanted to crawl away and hide from the world, and by another part of him which craved non-hostile human contact.

Obviously, the majority fell in her favor.

He knew, even before reading the proposal, that had she won. He stared into the cold fireplace, drowning in his bitter thoughts. Maybe Albus was right.

Hesitantly, he unfolded the parchment and saw her name written in precise, angled script. How long had it been since he read her essays with the respect they deserve? Was there any point to this? Was there any…he mentally slapped himself; his thoughts were falling back to the dark.

Severus began to read.

It was perfect. His lips twitched in a ghost of a smile.

It was exactly as he would have written it – clear and concise. The topic, a study of precision in potions brewing, was acceptable, though rather vague (but, it was more than expected for a 6th year project). The argument was concrete. The approach was logical. The objective was ambitious but within reason. It was flawless.

It made him remember the true reason why he stopped reading her essays long ago. They were always flawless. He trusted them to be flawless. And they made him grieve for the years of research he had lost and would continue to lose to this endless war.

He read through twice more and knew there was no way he could reject Granger now.

She could feel the impatience scrambling her brain. She couldn't concentrate. It hadn't been too bad for the first several days after submitting the proposal, but now almost two weeks had passed. The horrible man!

Hermione had spent the time attempting to study warding, but frustration at her distracted self had frustratingly distracted her. It was in her nature to worry despite her confidence, and her wandering mind had been nowhere near as productive as she would like. On an especially bad day, Madam Pince had almost tossed her out of the library after she dropped a book for the fourth time. She was nervous about Snape's decision, and she was nervous about the days passing by, shortening the time for research. It was irrational; two weeks were hardly anything in comparison to the full length of her project, but impatience overruled good judgment.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Ron asked seriously with a mouthful of bacon, "You've been pretty moody these past few days."

"Is it your time of the month?" Harry quipped innocently.

Hermione couldn't suppress a small grin, "Quiet, you two, or I'll give you detailed commentary during my next period."

"At least we got you to smile…" But both boys looked nauseous at the threat, "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, I've just been so nervous about an essay I haven't gotten back yet from Professor Snape. I can't think of anything else. Maybe I wasn't clear about in the conclusion," She mumbled. "Hmm, or that point could have been better worded. Or maybe he's tossed it out without informing me!" She took a quick glance at the High Table, but Snape was absent.

"Hermione, stop worrying. You know you did perfectly fine," They slung their arms around her shoulders. This was a situation where they knew to restrain their exasperation or else she would work herself into hysterics.

Their calming tone and their steady support, rather than the words themselves snapped her out of her stupor. Her shoulders lost some of their tension and a tiny smile returned to her face. The anxiety was still there, but her fondness and appreciation for her best friends surfaced to the forefront of her thoughts. They tended to be brash and hot-headed, but during difficult times they always knew how to make her feel better.

"Thank you, I needed that."

"Not a problem. Remember that we're here for you," Harry replied while taking a bite of his eggs. He then piled food onto her plate. "Here, you'll need energy for Potions."

Potions that morning went surprisingly smoothly. An explosion had been averted by Neville himself, and Gryffindor only lost five points. Could this be a sign of good things to come, Hermione wondered.

When Snape detained her after class, Hermione's throat clenched in anticipation. This was the defining moment; his decision would determine the next several years of her life, as well as her ability to contribute to the Order.

"I have reviewed your proposal," Hermione swallowed as Snape paused. "We shall discuss the conditions in detail tonight."

"Be in my office at 7. Don't be late," He added briskly.

Realizing what that meant, she beamed at him. "Thank you, sir!" and fled the room a third time, but this time in exhilaration.

If she had turned back, she would have seen Snape frozen, confused and stunned at being the cause of such a smile.

A/N: Review and tell me what you think!