Note: My other story, A Pariah's Recovery, is still active. Just working some bits out. This story is not one that will involve a teacher/student affair. They will end up together eventually, but she will be more than of age. Hopefully, this note keeps the trolls calling me "pervert" away!

Severus glared at the door to his classroom when Granger knocked the following Thursday afternoon.

"Enter," He said begrudgingly after taking a deep breath. She pushed the door open tentatively and stepped into the Potions classroom. Snape stood up from behind his desk and watched her closely as she walked toward him slowly. "Sit," He said and gestured to the desk in front of his own.

She obeyed silently and looked at him expectantly. He sat and steepled his fingers, touching them to the tip of his nose. "You are too dependent upon textbooks. You must learn what I will teach you in these lessons and know it by heart, know it better than you know the back of your own hand. In stressful situations, it must be second nature. We will begin with the absolute memorization of the ingredients and steps in the Potions I have, in my experience, found to be of the most dire necessity."

Her brown eyes widened significantly. Snape was intimidating enough, and the word dire certainly did not ease that in any way. Hermione swallowed hard, but said nothing. Her silence surprised Snape in itself. Instead, she simply laid out rolls of parchment and held her quill in her right hand loosely. "Which Potions, sir?"

Touching the buttons on the cuff of his left sleeve thoughtfully, Severus was quiet and it was unsettling. He narrowed his black eyes. "Antidote to Common Poisons, Antidote to Uncommon Poisons, Blood-Replenishing Potions, Calming Draughts, a Wound Cleaning Potion, Draughts of Peace, and both burn salves and healing salves."

She was writing quickly as he spoke and looked up at him when she'd finished. "When must I memorize them by?"

He thought for a moment. "Half by next week. All in two weeks." Her eyes widened briefly, and he raised a black eyebrow at her. "Too soon for the know-it-all?"

Her brow furrowed angrily. "No, sir," She ground out between her teeth.

"I've made my expectations clear. I see no reason for you to remain in my classroom. Half by next Thursday afternoon, Miss Granger," He said sharply.

She blinked, and then began putting her belongings back into her bag. When she stood, she hung the strap on her shoulder. "Professor?" He sighed heavily and looked at her impatiently. "Why am I doing this? Why me? Why you?"

Snape looked away from her face at the space over her head as his face hardened. "All the world is Professor Dumbledore's stage, Miss Granger."

"The witches and wizards merely players?" She finished.

He snorted once - uncharacteristically and bitterly. "Indeed." He glanced briefly at her face once more and saw sadness and disappointment flooding her features. "War is coming. Have no doubt about that. You have been assigned this task because Professor Dumbledore believes it absolutely imperative."

There was a heavy silence between them. It was not often that Snape was receptive to any type of student conversation or question, and the fact that he was about this topic solidified the importance of her task. Her features turned solemn. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

He nodded toward the door dismissively and sat as she exited the room. The room was silent now, and Snape had entirely too much time to think.

Yes, indeed, war was coming. The Dark Lord was exceptionally irritated as of late, and he was thankful the school year had started. It was rare for him to be called before the Dark Lord during the school year at all, and exceptionally rare to be called away during the school week.

The social and political climate felt much like it did many years before when he'd still been a student at Hogwarts himself. Then, he'd felt as if he'd had no choice but to take the Dark Mark, but looking back as an adult, he knew now that he'd always had a choice, and he'd made his. Then, he'd wanted to feel powerful, to feel as if he had the ability to defend himself. Throughout his life, he'd felt so powerless, and so constantly put in positions in which he'd had absolutely no control. He was bullied at muggle school, at Hogwarts, his father was a drunken abuser, and his mother was too afraid to leave his father. Regardless, he'd had a choice. There was always a choice, and Severus, made his. That choice had sealed his fate. There really were no excuses to be made - poor relationship models, abusive and neglectful home, relentless bullies, insecurity... None of those people or situations were present when he'd kneeled before Voldemort and been branded with the Dark Mark. In the end, he'd done that.

He was almost envious of Granger, of her classmates, his students. They would not be tempted like he had been. They would make the right choices in the coming war, the honorable and moral choices. If he had the chance to do it again, he would have as well, but he did not have such an opportunity. Such thoughts were both childish and futile, and he knew this, but he could not stop them. His students, Granger especially, would take his lessons, learn from him, and use it in ways he should have when he had been their age, and they will be victorious, and they will be heroes. The heroism never appealed to him, but the clear moral conscience did, the surviving did. If he and Dumbledore succeeded, many people would survive the war. Most people would survive the war. That was the goal: to thwart Voldemort every step of the way, and to minimize any potential casualties on their side of the battlefield. Still... Some would die, and even Snape, who had seen death too many times, was unsettled by that fact.

What would become of the Potions teacher in this war? He knew. He'd always known. It had never really been a question. He'd known since the moment he begged for Lily Potter's life. He would die. The only question remained was which side would end his pathetic existence. There would be a winners, losers, and then there would be Severus Snape. He would be neither. The war would stop his heart, but it had long ago taken his life. That was his reality. That one word - "anything" - had meant up to and including his life to Albus, and Severus had never argued it.

"But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—'Thou mayest'— that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man. For if 'Thou mayest'—it is also true that 'Thou mayest not." ~ East of Eden