A/N: You'll notice at the beginning of this chapter that I'm foregoing Lucius's stint in Azkaban prison. As I said before, I will be pretty faithful to the timeline in some regards and not in others. Time to get these detentions under way.

Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.

Chapter 7: Brewing Ideas

"Lucius, you continue to astound me," Lord Voldemort hissed, his voice oozing with mockery.

Lucius Malfoy, a prominent follower of the Dark Lord with long, blond locks and an arrogant smug that left the world cold, took a few steps back and lowered his steel blue eyes, unable to look his master in the face. There was no arrogance now.

Voldemort, meanwhile, reclined in an oversized armchair, with Nagini slithering up and down the curve of its spine, weaving herself around the Dark Lord's head so that she was only inches from his face. Both wizard and snake eyed Lucius without empathy or concern.

Severus kept himself at arm's length from Voldemort, his hands behind his back as he and several other Death Eaters lining the room in a circle stared at Lucius with indifference. Though he and Lucius were still somewhat close, having grown up together at Hogwarts, Severus still believed much of the trouble his old friend found himself in was of the wizard's own making. Thus, he stayed back and waited for the Dark Lord's instructions. His acute senses already suspected what was to come.

Lucius had become a heavy target of the Dark Lord's torture methods ever since he failed to obtain the Prophecy from Harry months before at the Ministry of Magic. Voldemort repeatedly made him pay for his terrible blunder and it seemed tonight would be no different from any other.

"My - My Lord," Lucius stuttered, "Draco is making great strides, I - I can assure you. He - He's told me himself of his progress. Your Lordship will be pleased, I pro - promise you."

Voldemort said nothing, only surveyed Lucius pitilessly. Then he called out rather lazily, "Severus." The somber professor stepped forward, mechanically peering down at the evil man.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Tell Lucius what you reported to me before his arrival."

Lucius's eyes sparked when they met Severus's, only to find no mercy in his old classmate's expression. "Draco informed me nearly a week ago that he has not made much progress, but that he wants more time."

Severus didn't want to speak too ill of Draco. He cared for his godson, though he may not show it. Even if he hadn't taken the Unbreakable Vow, Severus would still honor his pledge to the students in his house, Draco included. He would protect them at whatever cost was necessary, for they had no one else...

There was no use, however, in not feeding Voldemort some element of the truth about the boy's slow strides. Severus's use of Occlumency far surpassed his superior's, but if the Dark Lord were to suspect that Severus wasn't telling the complete truth, there would be no leniency, so Severus didn't hesitate. He knew Lucius would take his words as an offense—failing to see past the exterior to the sincerity that lay beyond—and that Lucius wouldn't see the real message Severus was trying to convey: he needed to buy Draco more time.

"Draco understands how - how important this is, my Lord."

"Do you?"

The atmosphere in the room died with these two simple words. Lucius drew back, his hands visibly shaking. His wife, Narcissa, stood as frozen as a statue in the corner and locked eyes with Severus, clinging to some glimmer of hope for her son that the professor might be able to communicate noiselessly, but there was nothing. Just a stone cold reserve.

The Dark Lord rose from his chair, his wand in hand. A cruel smile formed across his thin lips. "Severus, if you would, please..."

"Yes, my Lord," Severus uttered without hesitation. He took only a few steps forward and raised his wand at his old friend. Lucius's eyes expanded, his body stiffening at the onslaught of what was to come. "Crucio," Severus cast, emotionlessly and seemingly without regard for his target.

Lucius collapsed to the floor instantly and convulsed, his head whipping this way and that as the pain of the Unforgivable Curse flooded his senses, his limbs, and his mind. The rest of the Death Eaters snickered, seemingly enjoying the scene; only Severus's reaction was decidedly mute and indifferent. His intense eyes flickered at the flames dancing off of the fireplace, but his face was as somber as could be. He watched the curse from his wand penetrate his poor friend's body, wanting to look away but unable to do so.

Severus wasn't permitted to stop. That decision belonged to his contemptible master, and he inwardly prayed for release. Finally, Lord Voldemort's quiet voice called out, "That's enough."

Severus lowered his wand immediately, and Lucius fell still, his eyes squeezed shut as the effects of the curse continued to course through his veins. Severus bowed his head and stepped aside as Voldemort glided to the fallen Death Eater sprawled in the middle of the room, his slits for eyes squinting at Lucius with an evil grin still etched on his face. "Do you understand now, Lucius?"

"Yes, my - my Lord," his victim barely managed to whimper.

"I am glad we are getting the message."

"Well, what about Snivellus here?" Bellatrix barked unexpectedly, surprising everyone by speaking out of turn. "He's supposed to be aiding Draco, isn't he? He hasn't lifted a finger, my Lord. He's the one who should be punished!"

The Dark Lord's frown was enough to make the maddening witch lapse back into silence. She quickly diverted her gaze from her master, instead focusing all her energy on Severus, who was just feet away.

Damn wench! Severus fumed privately, his shoulders tensing. When will the vixen desist in her pursuit of my blood?

Voldemort eyed his dark servant curiously for a moment before asking, "What say you, Severus?"

"My Lord, I will, of course, aid Draco if he asks it of me. I have given him many opportunities so far, but he has repeatedly refused my help. I await your instructions on when, and if, you wish me to take over for the boy."

"Only if necessary, Severus."

"Of course, my Lord."

"Although, I must confess, Bellatrix has brought something of value to light."

Damn it.

Severus's eyes darted towards the crazy witch, now ogling him with a most sinister, yellow smile spread wide across her cheeks. She looked positively evil, turning her wand over in her fingers gingerly, craving her chance to strike.

"You see," Voldemort continued, "I had hoped for more information than what you brought me tonight, Severus. I informed you last time that I wanted more concrete details. I have to admit, you haven't performed much better this time."

Severus knew that had to be a lie and merely an excuse to torture. He had relayed every particular detail he could regarding Draco, without handing the poor boy over to be killed and done with. Severus quickly gathered that tonight was to be another night of hell—purely for entertainment purposes—and that he was about to become a welcome target for one of Voldemort's crazy followers.

Severus did not cower as the Dark Lord drew close, unlike Lucius or any of the others who always diverted their gaze or inclined their heads. He stared straight into Voldemort's red eyes and could detect something that seemingly surprised, but also intrigued, his master greatly. No doubt about the dark wizard who refused to submit to him, but dared to look him straight in the face.

"You will have your fun tonight with one another at my expense," Voldemort affirmed, as an apprehensive response echoed around the room. "Bellatrix... Only one go. Severus has done well enough for me in the past, and I do not want my Head of Slytherin House incapable of teaching our future Death Eaters tomorrow. We need our professor to be at his utmost best."

Lucius had finally gotten to his feet, but he and Narcissa stepped away from the crowd of Death Eaters, unable to stomach what was going on. Severus, however, stood firm, his face expressionless; inwardly, however, he was as distressed as would be expected. He wouldn't be permitted to draw his wand without severe consequences. He would simply have to take Bellatrix's curse—whatever might be her fancy this evening—and endure the pain...

"Diffindo!" she squealed with undisguised delight, ripping and clawing sounding from beneath Severus's coat.

Severus doubled over in pain, but his long hair masked the agony, and he refused to allow himself to cry out as the stinging sensation of torn flesh on his chest and back grabbed hold. More scars, that's all, he told himself in an attempt to not think of the exquisite pain. It's just more bloody scars.

But then several gasps escaped his mouth. Bellatrix was not giving up after one go and was now ripping at the professor's skin in individual sections, thrilled with what she could decipher beneath the fabric and from Severus's lips. She may not have been able to witness the damage, but she knew the spell was working effectively. It was a sensation a wizard always could perceive at will, and Severus understood that he would receive very little comfort this evening once he returned safely to Hogwarts.

"An antidote for Nagini?" Harry's initial reaction mirrored Hermione's: shock. It had been a little over a week since she told him, and the surprise, for Hermione, had worn off a bit. Not so for Harry, it seemed.

"Yes."

"But this is Snape. The Death Eater. The selfish prick."

"Yes, I know."

"Are we talking about the same person?"

"Of course we are, Harry!" Hermione chuckled, throwing her Ancient Runes textbook onto her lap.

Harry shrugged and returned to his homework for a time, spreading his legs lazily over each other on the cozy rug before the fireplace in the common room. Ginny had only just left to go to the library with a few of her classmates, and Ron seemed to be going out of his way to avoid Hermione these days more than ever, especially if she happened to be in Harry's company. Harry, on the other hand, was staying neutral, adamant not to take sides.

"You going to Slughorn's Christmas party?"

Hermione blinked and peered down at him from her comfortable recline on the sofa. "Yes, I am. You're going, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I need a date though..."

Hermione smiled wryly, suspecting who Harry wanted to invite but couldn't. Ginny was dating Dean Thomas, something Hermione still couldn't wrap her brain around. There was an obvious attraction between the youngest Weasley and Harry. It had been evident ever since the past summer when they all spent so much time together at the Burrow. The only person who seemed absolutely thick about the whole matter was Ron, which Harry was more than all right with. Hermione, however, wished one of them would just make a move already.

Then a dreadful realization came to her and she shot up on the couch. "Damn it!"

Harry startled and stared up at her, wide-eyed. "What?"

"I was supposed to check out a book from the library for Professor Snape! My detention's in ten minutes! There's no way I'll get to the library and to my detention on time. He'll make me pay for this, I know it!"

Hermione stumbled to her feet and hastily threw her pen, parchment, and textbooks into a magical handbag she had picked up in Diagon Alley over the summer.

"Blimey, 'Mione, is Snape having you step and fetch for him now?" Harry seemed relatively concerned as he watched his frazzled friend collect her things.

"No, not like that, Harry," she sighed. "It's for his research and, honestly, the more information he's shared with me, the more interested I am. You know me; I can't help myself. Anyway, I thought you and Neville wanted me to make the most of my time with Snape, so that's what I'm trying to do."

"Well, yeah, but—"

"I have to go! I'm already going to be late."

Hermione ran out of the common room and made her way to the library as fast as her feet would carry her. By the time she gathered the textbook she needed, checked it out, and sprinted to the D.A.D.A. classroom for her detention session, she was easily a good ten minutes late.

When she hesitantly tip toed into the room, Hermione found Snape leaning against the front of his desk with his arms crossed over his button down jacket. The wicked scowl on his mouth said it all: he was more than a little displeased. Hermione gulped, sensing the repercussions that were coming.

"Detention doesn't start at your leisure, Granger," he snarled after an agonizing pause.

"I - I know. I'm sorry, sir. I'd forgotten you wanted this textbook for your research, so I had to run there first—"

"At the last minute? That's no excuse, and that's your own fault. Ten points for being late, and you can stay an extra hour this evening to make up for your lack of punctuality."

Hermione heaved her shoulders, still trying to catch her breath. "But Professor—"

"Do you have somewhere more pressing to be?"

Of course! Anywhere but here! Hermione knew she couldn't give that answer without further consequences.

"No..."

"Very well. Come here."

Hermione reluctantly went to stand before him. Snape snatched the heavy book from her hands and inspected the covering, the frail binding, and the various pages inside. She waited somewhat foolishly, but it gave her a moment to pause and observe him more intently. His eyelashes, stark and longer than she had imagined, fluttered over the contents of the worn pages and, again, his lips unconsciously moved at a few indecipherable words she couldn't unravel. Then he suddenly turned his gaze to her and Hermione quickly averted her gaze from him.

"Do you consider yourself a religious person?"

Hermione's caramel orbs widened before shrinking to their original size. That was an unexpected question. She surmised that this must have something to do with the book he requested, which admittedly had intrigued her when Snape had made the request during her last detention session. She refrained at the time from inquiring further.

"Um, well, my parents take me to church every year for Christmas, if that's what you mean."

A surprisingly delicate smirk emerged on Snape's mouth, barely detectable if viewed from afar. "I am not remotely interested in your personal life," he issued softly. "It's purely for academic purposes."

Hermione nodded and narrowed her eyes. "What use is a book on immortality and the afterlife to your area of research then, Professor? Seems a bit of a, um, stretch to me..."

"Indeed." Hermione thought she caught a short glistening in the wizard's eyes but then quickly determined that she must have envisioned it. Snape handed the book back to her, this time without force. "In fact, it has very little to do with my research. This is something else entirely. I'd like you to read it, Granger, preferably before your next detention on Saturday. We will have much to discuss."

"What?" Hermione became frazzled. "But sir, I - I have an Ancient Runes exam and a Potions essay that's due—"

"No exceptions."

Hermione fell silent, though her jaw set at a stubborn angle. Snape could see the heat trickling onto her rosy cheeks, displaying her inner resentment, but Dumbledore had asked him to make headway with her, and, so far, he had been quite reluctant to initiate anything. Seeing as her detentions would be over in a matter of weeks, Snape determined tonight that he would begin to introduce what he felt comfortable sharing, which admittedly wasn't much.

Let's hope she figures out a few things on her own. The less I have to relay to this girl myself, the better. It will only lead to more unnecessary questions.

"Can I at least work on this now?" Hermione huffed, clutching the book to her chest as she so often did.

"You may."

Relieved, Hermione felt her shoulders relax. She sat down at her usual spot and was about to open the bizarre text when she glanced back up at him, another question forming in mind. Snape was still reclined against his desk but was massaging his chest, hinting at some sort of affliction, but he quickly recovered when he caught sight of her staring.

"What is it?" he snapped, causing Hermione to blink.

"Um, well, do you want me to take notes?"

Snape sighed and gingerly stood up straight, which Hermione thought a bit strange. "Yes, whatever you think is relevant," he answered with less severity.

Hermione, however, was still reluctant to start. "What should I be searching for, Professor?"

"I don't know. Whatever you think worthwhile and instructive."

Well, that's hardly helpful! Hermione criticized silently. She sighed, frustrated, and opened the book.

Hermione found herself more wrapped up in the material than she anticipated and easily lost track of time. When she finally glanced up at the clock about two hours later, she spotted Snape seated behind his desk, scribbling onto a piece of parchment with his feathered quill. There were a few additional books piled next to him that hadn't been there before, but Hermione couldn't make out the titles in such poor lighting.

"Professor?"

"What is it?" he drawled, uninterested. He continued to write without giving her his attention.

"How exactly was the Philosopher's Stone destroyed?"

Snape peered up from his work, his skin practically a white sheet against the dramatic darkness engulfing the room. "What has that to do with anything?" he inquired with skepticism. His voice sounded strained to Hermione's ears, which she additionally thought odd, but she pressed on with her question.

"Well, after Harry, Ron and I found the stone and Quirrell was destroyed, Dumbledore had it demolished. I was just wondering how that was done? To destroy something of that magnitude and power must have been difficult..."

There was a long interlude of silence that followed before Snape answered her. "It was relatively easy to destroy, and only because Nicholas Flamel removed the many complicated protective shields he'd placed on the stone. That allowed Dumbledore to destroy it with the simple Obliteration Charm."

"Oh."

Sensing her disappointment, Snape laid down his quill and stared, interested despite not wishing to be. She seemed to be on the verge of something, and he could only hope she was headed in the right direction.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, a lot of what's in here pertains to different magical objects and possible potions to obtain immortality. The Philosopher's Stone is mentioned, too, but most of it sounds like a bunch of superstitious nonsense. The Elixir of Life is relevant, yes, but the majority of what's in here sounds like hogwash."

"And?"

Surprised by this subtle dose of encouragement, Hermione perked up in her chair. "If Voldemort wanted to achieve immortality all these years, why didn't he ever go searching for the stone back in the First Wizarding War? Did he not know about it?"

At this, Snape's face relaxed a little. "He did know about the stone, yes, and did try to go after it. Flamel and Dumbledore took every precaution to keep the Dark Lord from discovering its whereabouts."

"Well, then why wasn't it destroyed back then? Didn't anyone see the danger in keeping it protected? Surely, Flamel must have considered the welfare of the rest of the wizarding world—"

"He didn't," Severus interjected with a disapproving scowl. "Nicholas Flamel was a very private alchemist and, as such, not much is known about him except gossip and hearsay; however, he rivaled Dumbledore in his magical powers and capabilities. Everyone knows that. He never destroyed the stone simply because he wasn't ready to die. Destroying the stone would have killed Flamel as well as his wife; it was purely for selfish reasons that Flamel didn't take the most logical course of action possible, which would have benefited many, had he done so. The Dark Lord destroyed many lives in his relentless pursuit of it."

And Dumbledore was too bloody greedy to have it destroyed either, Severus reflected with a sour taste in his mouth.

Hermione pondered this information, frowning a little as she surveyed the open book. "Did Voldemort try many of the suggestions in here?"

"Yes, he did, and failed miserably."

Hermione was taken aback by the professor's frankness, but also by how little he seemed to regard the Dark Lord. His tone had subtly changed; it almost sounded like mockery and simply went against everything she and her friends had suspected about him for so long. Not that she trusted him any more now than she had five minutes ago.

"Does this..." She halted before continuing, "Does this text have something to do with Harry?" Severus stared without blinking, so Hermione pushed further. "Is there something in here that might help Harry defeat him?"

Now that the questions had slipped out, she suddenly felt stupid for asking. It was a joke of a book—most of the contents laughable and beyond ludicrous to her way of thinking—but something had still compelled her to ask.

"How would a rubbish book on immortality aid Mr. Potter in defeating the Dark Lord?" Severus retorted after a time. "Unless your infamous friend is planning to brew an Elixir of Life, which he is far too incompetent to achieve without killing himself, then I fail to see the connection, Granger."

"Something about Voldemort then?" she pressed, ignoring Snape's slight. "Did he achieve something in this book?"

Snape carefully folded his hands together on his desk, and the fluorescent hues from a small candle nearby painted more attractive coloring onto his face. He hadn't expected Hermione to come this close so soon and found it encouraging, to say the least. He was even more surprised that the clever girl was able to decipher his subdued gaze, as well as his silence, as enough to inquire further.

"The Elixir of Life," Hermione continued, "obviously prolongs the lifespan of the drinker, but it's not an absolute. It's not the definitive answer to achieving immortality. Voldemort has clearly gone to extended lengths to stay alive as long as he has. How he's done that seems to be a mystery. Unless..." Her voice trailed off as she scrutinized Snape's colorless eyes anew. "Unless you know something, sir. Do you?"

Snape's thin lips came together. Hermione didn't know what to make of his reaction. Everything the man said and did was shrouded in mystery, but her question had certainly stirred him on some level or another.

"My guesses are as good as anyone's, Granger. It is a question that has been sought after for a long time. A pursuit, as I understand it, that is being undertaken by Potter at the present on Dumbledore's orders."

"Slughorn?" Hermione could hardly stifle her laughter. "You all think the answer to Voldemort's strides towards immortality lies with him?"

"Is that so hard to believe? The Dark Lord was once his pupil. He was the Head of Slytherin House for many years before I took over. He lived through the First Wizarding War—"

"So did you."

It took a moment for Hermione's brain to register the gravity of what she had said, and panic automatically set in when she saw the flicker of anger emerge on Snape's face. His upper lip twitched and the crease between his eyebrows became more pronounced.

"Yes, I did, Granger," he whispered dangerously. "How remarkably observant of you."

"I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"Oh?" he challenged, before dismissing her with an abrupt wave of his hand. "Never mind. Get back to reading. You still have three hours before you can go for the night."

"But—"

"This conversation is over."

Snape returned to his writing, leaving Hermione to scramble her brain back into some kind of order. Surely, there was more to why the professor had requested this book and demanded that she read it. As exhausted as Hermione was with mind puzzles and challenges, having been through more than enough hurdles in the past six years to last a lifetime, the Gryffindor in her never backed down from a challenge, especially if it was instigated by Severus Snape. The man hated her anyhow; all the more reason to uncover whatever secrets might lie beneath the surface.

"Why aren't you at all bothered by serving detention all day with that nasty, old sod?"

Ron shot Hermione an incredulous look, which she met with equal disdain, over breakfast in the Great Hall the following Saturday morning. "As it so happens, Ron, I am bothered. I'm in for the long haul until Christmas, for Merlin's sake. You'll be done with your detentions much sooner than me."

Ron gave an indecipherable grumble and returned to his half-consumed scrambled eggs. His nose was looking much better, but he had refused to allow Madame Pomfrey to fix it with a simple healing spell that involved snapping it back into place. Instead, he had endured weeks of discomfort as the swelling subsided and his natural skin color reemerged.

Wuss, Hermione thought with a contented smirk, though a hint of affection still lingered in her heart.

People were still gossiping incessantly about the physical fist fight between Professor Snape and Ron, and the general consensus from every house—with the exception of Slytherin—was that the slimy git deserved to have his students rebel against him. Ron, much to Hermione's displeasure, seemed to be taking that notion right to his inflated head and was making the most of it, as was Lavender. Even Harry was beginning to have his fill of Ron's boastfulness.

"Does he even remember anymore that he's the one who wound up with the bloody nose?" Neville whispered to Harry and Hermione as they exited the Great Hall, leaving Ron and Lavender to themselves.

"Probably not," Hermione mumbled. "His ego has soared to new heights."

Harry tried to avoid taking sides again. "'Mione—"

"No! It's pathetic, Harry, and you know it!"

That brought the conversation to its swift conclusion, and Hermione made her way to the D.A.D.A. classroom whilst Harry headed to Quidditch practice and Neville went in search of Luna. "Enjoy your day with the Bat of the Dungeons!" Harry called to her as he headed off in the opposite direction, beaming at her as he went.

"He's not in the dungeons anymore, you prat!" Hermione quipped, smiling a little as she made her way to another full day of detention.

Severus was in the midst of prepping a potion when she entered, and Hermione was befuddled to find her usual spot already filled with a few textbooks, fresh parchment, and a pen. Apprehensive but not sure how to inquire without sounding rude, Hermione threw down her bag and waited for Severus to address her or give her instructions. As usual, he took his time, spreading out an array of ingredients at his work station whilst lighting a fire and extracting liquids from various jars at the same time, all without addressing her.

"I thought those texts might steer you in the right direction," he stated with a smooth purr. He continued to inspect the contents of his potion and left her to her own devices.

"In the right direction?"

"Mmm. Per our previous discussion."

Hermione eyed the books curiously. Advanced Wizard's Guide to Nonverbal Spells. Dark Curses, Hexes, and Their Counterparts.

I know all this already! she huffed, inspecting them with an insulted look.

"I assure you, you will find hexes and jinxes in there you haven't tried or heard of before, Granger."

Hermione startled, wondering if the professor had literally just read her mind, but he didn't show any indication of having done so. After teaching Harry Occlumency last year, Hermione was thoroughly familiar with Snape's gift of mind reading, which made her even more leery when in his presence now.

Snape nodded towards the texts in her hands, pausing mid-brew. "They're first editions; there aren't any left in print to my knowledge. The Ministry had what they could unearth destroyed after the end of the war. These are my personal copies that I managed to salvage."

At this, Hermione carefully set them down and picked up the third book to read its title, when she let out a small gasp and almost dropped the book entirely. Snape whipped his head around and was met with a pair of incredulous, caramel eyes.

"A How-To Guide to Spells of the Dark Arts?" she repeated shakily, staring at him as if he had sprouted a second head.

To her utter bewilderment, Snape didn't even flinch. Only his eyes flashed momentarily. He gave a curt nod and broke eye contact to start slicing a handful of scarab beetles.

"If you are to fully appreciate and understand spells used in combat, Granger, then it is imperative that you learn the full range and variations, the light and the dark."

"But this..." Hermione stumbled, not grasping the professor's motives. "This is a banned textbook. You couldn't have gotten something like this from the Restricted Section, could you?"

Severus peered over at her again, a darker expression covering his features. "No, of course not, you silly girl. That one is, again, my personal copy." When Hermione continued to give him a blank stare, he issued a frustrated eye roll. "Yes, it is a banned textbook, Granger, and it's also highly valuable if you wish to expand your knowledge and understand the entire scope of what you will be going up against. I daresay if more wizards had known how to combat many of the Dark Arts magic used in the last war, things might have turned out quite differently."

Hermione stared, still stunned and very confused. "Then what about—"

"I am regrettably not permitted to teach from these books in your Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. Surely, you already know why I can't."

"Then... Why me? Why am I being given these to read if they're not allowed?"

Severus finally turned around and faced her head on, wiping at the sweat trickling down his forehead. Hermione hadn't noticed that he had been standing so close to the boiling cauldron, nor how relentlessly he had been working as she stood flabbergasted, barraging him with her series of questions.

Unbeknownst to her, however, Snape was also struggling internally with how to approach this conversation. He heaved a weary sigh at last and replied quietly, "Because you are serving detention with me and, as such, I make the rules and can have you read whatever I like. Because I find many controversial books on the Dark Arts not to be misleading or misguided as so many ignorant fools do, but highly instructive in understanding our enemies. And because I think, unlike many of your peers, Miss Granger, that you possess a brain—though you don't always know how to use it properly—and can differentiate between knowledge and influence.

"I think you will find these books illuminating in more ways than one, Granger. That is why I'm giving them to you—temporarily—to read at your leisure, at least until the Christmas holiday. Then I would like them back. I trust you to handle them delicately and not to share them with others. The consequences, as I'm sure you are aware, would be severe if they fell into the wrong hands..."

It took a minute or two for Hermione to realize she had been staring at the back of Snape's head, at the long, straggly hair that fell to his shoulders and the tight-fitting coat that swayed at the bottom every step he made. She blinked hard and tried to register the three books now in her possession.

After much internal questioning, Hermione's curiosity ultimately won out, and she sat down in her chair, taking the borrowed quill in hand, opened the Advanced Wizard's Guide, and began taking notes. She had no idea why Severus Snape seemed adamant about showing her these, but she would play along; until she figured out his true motives, whatever they were.

A/N #2: The 'banned Dark Arts books' is something that will pop up again later. It's just something I think would have been very typical of the Ministry to do, especially under the highly paranoid Cornelius Fudge. It also reminded me of groups here in the States that had bonfires to burn the Harry Potter books (remember that?) because they thought they were strictly 'all about witchcraft.'

*sigh* Ignorance is not always bliss...