A/N: Thank you to all of you who have been leaving me your feedback (whether through FFN or other avenues), adding this story to your Favorites, and/or putting the Prequel and/or me on your Alerts. It thrills me to get those notices in my Inbox. And I appreciate every one of you who've done so.

On a side note, as many of you are probably already aware, there is some serious purging of stories going on on FFN right now. They're mostly M-rated fanfics, but anything can happen in these cases. As such, in the event that any of my stories or my account would be deleted, please check out my Tumblr accounts for updates on where else I will be archiving my work:

[slash] severussnapegal

tumblr .com [slash] thesnapes

Lets hope it doesn't come to that... *fingers crossed*

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 10: A Contradiction in Terms

"You did what?"

"Harry, please!"

"'Mione... That's... Wow!" His lips curled into a wicked grin, but Hermione only felt sickened. She had been racking over what happened for hours, before Harry and Ginny finally made their appearance in the common room after their Quidditch practice.

Snape had left her alone in the classroom when he disappeared into his office and, naturally, never came back out. Hermione had waited around for almost a half hour but when he didn't reappear, she reluctantly dismissed herself. Now that her friends were present, their reactions weren't making her feel any better about the situation. Ginny, at least, didn't look as pleased, but she was undoubtedly surprised.

"You insinuated that Snape's still a Death Eater to his face?" Ginny's bright eyes widened, dumbfounded.

"I did. And I shouldn't have."

Harry leaned forward on the sofa. "Why not? We've all been saying it behind the sod's back for years. Everyone knows what he really is, 'Mione. I'm proud of you!"

"Dumbledore trusts him, Harry. There has to be some value in that."

"Bollocks!" came Ron's angry growl from somewhere behind them, causing Hermione to startle. He took a seat on the floor in front of the fireplace next to Ginny, staring up at her with what had become a traditional scowl. He and Lavender weren't getting on well anymore, and everyone sensed it was only a matter of time before they called it quits. At the moment, however, Hermione was too preoccupied to give that any thought.

"No one trusts Snape," Ron continued bitterly, "and for good reason. I'm not entirely convinced Dumbledore trusts him either, for that matter. The sorry bastard might as well have the label 'Death Eater' plastered along that ugly, crooked snout of his. He is what he is, 'Mione, and no one in their right mind is going to believe the lies he's feeding you. I hope you don't believe them."

Hermione felt trapped, wedged between her former beliefs, even though they had never been as concrete as Harry's or Ron's, and what she witnessed in Snape's eyes that acquainted her with a very different story, somehow reversing years of misguided conclusions they had all drawn in one terribly sad, unspoken look. Hermione had never felt more confused, disheartened, or guilty, and her uncertainties were visible to everyone.

"'Mione," Ron murmured, sounding quiet affronted and astounded. "You do believe him..."

"I don't know! I mean, yes, maybe I do... A little."

"Why?"

It was Harry who pressed her now, and the reflection behind the intense green eyes was apprehensive, with also a twinge of resentment. Hermione understood why, but it didn't lessen how she felt.

"I don't know, Harry, but you weren't there today. You didn't see his face... When Snape reacted, I - I could see it. I think he was genuinely hurt by what I said..."

It was a long time before anyone said anything. Finally, Ginny brushed her red hair off her shoulders, looking far less abrasive than the boys, only troubled. "But Hermione, surely Snape has to know that these rumors have been flying around about him for years. Why would he act so surprised or, um, hurt that you confronted him about it? I'm sure he's overheard other students making the same accusations before. This can't be the first time. His reaction doesn't make much sense."

"Perhaps... Unless he's just had enough with everyone gossiping about him behind his back, especially if the rumors aren't true. Merlin knows we've talked about him enough to cause an angry reaction like this." Hermione shook her head, her curls brushing her back. She stared down at her intertwined hands, feeling more and more ashamed. "I don't know, you guys, but I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have said any of it. It was wrong."

"No, it wasn't!" Ron retorted, and the frighteningly livid expression that contorted his freckled face was not reminiscent of the person she knew. "I wish I'd said it! I wish I could've seen his reaction, for that matter! I'd have taken pride in seeing the old bat squirm!"

"That's cruel and insensitive, Ron!" she retorted in a hushed, strained whisper. "I don't think he's a Death Eater after all. I don't know what he's up to, but I'm willing to put my prejudices aside after what happened today. I never, ever want to make a wrong assumption about someone like that again, not after the way he looked at me. I think we've all misjudged Snape, and it's high time we stopped insinuating about him. I think we should just leave him alone..."

Hermione had no idea where this resolution was coming from, but she meant every word. Ginny glanced sidelong at Harry, but he was sitting back, his lips pressed tightly together. Ron, however, reacted with dramatic flair and narrowed his eyes.

"Wow, Snape's detentions really are having an effect on you. Did the git sneak something into your pumpkin juice recently?"

"Stop it, Ron! Your poking fun at the matter isn't helping!"

"I'm not trying to poke fun! I'm trying to get you to see how psychotic you sound! So what, you now think Snape's good? After the countless things we've heard and seen, you actually believe the Bat of the Dungeons, who's treated us all like the scum off the bottom of his shoes for six years, is on our side? On the side of the Order? On the side of Dumbledore? You've gone bloody mad, 'Mione!"

Hermione felt her eyes tearing up and quickly shot to her feet. "If you had seen the reaction in Snape's eyes—if you'd seen what I saw, Ron—I think you might question a thing or two about him! You, too, Harry! I don't care if my opinion's unpopular; I don't care if you don't believe me, for that matter. I just think we should cut the man a break already! Haven't we been wrong about him enough already? I never insinuated that Snape's good or bad, Ron, and I'm certainly not crazy! You can go to hell!"

With that, Hermione didn't dare wait around and give any of them a chance to rebuff her. She stomped off to her room, leaving her friends dumbfounded and disquieted.

Hermione didn't sleep much that weekend, or much the following week. D.A.D.A. lessons were more strenuous and demanding than ever, and Snape was making sure to come down hard on all of them, as if his very life depended on it. He was teaching them more obscure nonverbals, but with that progress brought harsher criticism than they had ever received. It brought out the worst in Harry and Ron especially, who were at the point of griping about the Potions Master nonstop. Midway through the week, Hermione had already had enough of their constant whining and resolved to just ignore them for the time being.

As for her detentions, Snape was as aloof and cold to her as ever, and what little effect she seemed to have garnered in getting him to talk more in the past week or so now felt for naught. By the end of her Monday evening session, she was ready to accept her blunder and apologize. She didn't trust Snape much more than before, but that glimpse of pain she had seen in his eyes, because of her, wouldn't leave her alone. Maybe she was wrong, but her heart told her that he had been gravely affronted by her accusations, and she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Isn't he used to hearsay by now? Hermione tried to persuade herself, though rather sadly, before entering the classroom Wednesday night. She had been asking that question for days to no personal satisfaction.

Snape hadn't spoken much to her at all earlier that week and instead put her to work on several potion orders. When she asked questions, he refused to answer, sometimes not acknowledging her at all, as if she were invisible. Hermione concluded that she probably deserved it, but it still made her feel low.

Hermione was prepared to receive the same level of treatment this evening, but she also wanted to apologize, regardless of what little difference it made. The Gryffindor in her could not, and would not, let the matter go until she had done so.

"Good evening, Professor," she greeted tentatively as she entered, but Snape, seated at his desk grading a pile of exams, said nothing.

Hermione sighed and quietly put down her belongings at her spot at the front of the room but refused to sit. She lingered by her desk for a moment, watching the dark wizard silently as he scratched furiously with his red-inked quill. Perhaps it was just the soft glow of the torches lighting the room, but she thought he looked quite tired, as if he hadn't managed much sleep the past few nights either. That made her guilty conscious worse as she hesitantly made her way over to him.

"What is it?" he snapped, after she stood in front of him rather awkwardly for a time.

"I - I wanted to apologize." Her voice was hushed and feeble, but Hermione knew he was listening, even if he was pretending not to. "I was out of line with what I said to you this past weekend. I just didn't know it at the time. I don't think my conclusions were entirely without grounds, you know. You make it quite difficult for people to read you and your intentions, you're not at all friendly, and you can be ruthlessly unkind to the point of abuse when you want to."

Hermione, what the hell? You're getting off track. He doesn't need to hear this.

"Um, what I'm trying to say is that I confronted you based on what I've perceived from you the last few weeks, and, I suppose, for much longer than that. You were right though. I don't know your history, I don't know your circumstances, and my friends and I should give you a chance. I realize now that I misjudged you. I'm still not entirely sure what's going on here, and I really wish you'd just be straightforward with me, but I know I offended you—deeply—and I'm very sorry for that, sir."

A tediously uncomfortable silence followed before Snape finally put down his quill and made eye contact. He stared hard and severely in a manner that made her blood run cold. There was no shred of evidence to her that she was forgiven for her blunder.

"Your detentions will not be concluded by Christmas break," Snape stated at last.

Hermione blinked, her face turning from apprehension to befuddlement in a flash. "What?"

"I won't repeat myself, Granger. Your hearing is not impaired. I cannot, however, account the same conclusion for your mind."

Hermione brought her lips together to keep from spitting out something dreadful that would surely make her situation worse. "How long?" she managed, clenching her teeth.

"Until I see fit to dismiss you."

"Because of what I said?" Now Hermione's anger was building, and she momentarily forgot about her apology.

"Search that careless conscience of yours, Granger, and you'll find your answer."

Because I opened my bloody mouth! her mind screamed. Because I confronted him! Damn the miserable, mean-spirited louse!

"You mean to tell me that no one's ever brought these accusations to you before?" she challenged heatedly, ignoring the warning in the back of her mind. "You make it relatively easy to draw such conclusions, you know! It's not my fault you choose to be so secretive, vindictive, and bitter against everything that moves or breathes!"

"You're making it worse for yourself," Snape hissed dangerously. There was a furious glimmer in his irises that warned Hermione to desist, but she wouldn't concede so easily.

"What?" she snapped back. "For having an opinion about you? For actually having the nerve to challenge and confront you? For having misgivings about what you're teaching me so secretively and in private, and for which I'm not permitted to tell anyone? For not ever being forthright or honest, even when I've asked you repeatedly to tell me the truth?"

"Miss Granger—"

"NO! I've had it with your nasty attitude and all this secrecy!"

"Granger," Snape growled louder, but she interrupted him again.

"You have no one to blame but yourself for the world misjudging you, if that is indeed the case! I shouldn't be punished for thinking less of you when you bring these impressions and accusations down upon yourself!"

Snape rose from his chair and gradually hunched over his desk. Hermione, likewise, inclined closer, no longer afraid or leery of the lean, powerful wizard just inches away. "Don't start on me again," he sniped quietly. "You've insulted me for the last time. Be silent."

"No! I won't! Not until this is resolved! I won't serve detention with you after Christmas break! I won't do it! I'll go to Dumbledore if I have to!"

Snape's sneer shifted into a most wicked smirk, and his eyes themselves danced with provocation. "Go ahead," he prodded. "Be my guest. After all, it was his idea that I not let you go..."

Bad idea, Severus. Desist. Now.

Hermione stepped back as if she had received a blow to the face. "What?"

Damn it. Can't go back now.

"Surprised, Granger? Well, go on then! Run to Dumbledore and see if the Headmaster takes pity on you like the emotionally weak Gryffindor that you're behaving like. Or you can stay and serve your detentions and perhaps get something useful out of my instructions, though I'm starting to think you're a failure and beyond my capabilities, just like the rest of your sorry lot."

Hermione wanted to move, but her brain had come to a screeching halt. She opened her mouth and tried to retort, but words escaped her mental grasp.

"Anything else?" Snape shot her a glare that heeded her not to interrupt him again. "Which will it be, Granger? Time is of the essence and I have no intention of wasting it on you." To her surprise, his eyes unexpectedly softened, the shadows underneath his eyes growing more pronounced against the harshness of the candlelight. What came next nearly electro-shocked her on the spot. "I accept your apology, and I appreciate that you saw fit to do so, but your continuous need to undo me ends here and now." He collapsed into his chair and diverted his attention back to his grading, leaving Hermione mentally stranded in the midst of their argument.

"So you and Dumbledore... You're in this together, whatever this is?"

Snape peered up at her again, only this time with weariness instead of indignation. "I have told you many times. Your repeated effort to search for some hidden undermining secret is one of many disappointments I'm discovering in you."

Not true, Severus, his conscience berated him against his will. Stop it.

Hermione, however, took Snape at his word and inwardly felt more slighted by his latest comment than she had in the past by any previous brash remarks the man had thrown. She couldn't fathom why, but it hurt her more deeply than he probably knew or cared...

"Let me spell it out for you, Granger." He sighed heavily, before responding in a much calmer tone. "Things are in motion that Dumbledore and I are privy to that you're not; the same for Potter. You know of the Prophecy; you know of the gravity of what lies ahead for him. He can't afford to be distracted or weakened or incapacitated when the Dark Lord finally makes his move. You and Weasley are closest to him, but your fickle friend is proving himself to be a hopeless case. He lacks the much needed capacity to think collectedly in times of trial. His emotions always get the better of him in dire situations, and that is beyond dangerous. I've seen it in the classroom too many times to count, just as has been the case in your own little escapades. He's unreliable, unsteady, and a time bomb waiting to explode.

"You, on the other hand, are Potter's confidant, but have proven your ability to use your cool intellect when times are desperate. Dumbledore is not a fool, and neither am I. We know who the brain of this outfit is. You're far more capable a witch than Weasley or Potter will ever amount to, but don't let that go to your head. If there's one person Potter can actually count on in the months to come—who Dumbledore and I believe to be the most reliable, the most skilled, and the most resourceful—it is you, Miss Granger, and you need to be well-prepared and three steps ahead at all times. Do you understand?

"You're capable and clever, but you still need more work. Dumbledore wants me to assist you for as long as it takes, until I believe you're ready and have garnered all the knowledge you need. That is why I'm extending your 'detentions,' Granger, although, even without the unwanted task that's been thrown in my lap, I would willingly slap you with another detention for your unjust, derogatory outburst the other day. There. Are you satisfied?"

Snape took a deep breath, reflecting briefly on what he had disclosed. Not the entire truth either, but it will suffice for now.

After a moment, Hermione's mouth caught up with her mind and she offered Snape a peculiar, rather hushed remark he hadn't expected. "I was right..."

"Pardon?"

"I - I thought... Well, after what happened, I thought that maybe... I suspected that this had something to do with Harry; that perhaps I was being recruited for something. I guess I just didn't think you'd actually..."

When her voice trailed off, leaving her sentence incomplete, Snape's scowl grew more severe. "You didn't think I'd be capable of helping you, of helping anyone, for that matter." The remark was both direct and unforgiving, and the guilty look Hermione projected showcased every reservation she had held without saying a word. Snape wanted to gripe, but he was far too spent to show any more feeling.

"Granger, let me make something clear to you: I didn't ask for this task. I certainly didn't want to work with you individually, but your lack of attention the past several weeks was very troubling to Dumbledore, who puts a great deal of faith in you, though I sometimes question why.

"Then, when you had the foolish audacity to try and hex me, you left me with no choice. I'm assisting you because it was requested of me, so don't get any ridiculous ideas of grandeur implanted into that skull of yours. Make no mistake: I don't want to work with you. McGonagall could have done so easily enough. And frankly, I have enough to do right now; but, nevertheless, it must be done, and so it shall."

Another fabricated truth, Severus reflected sourly, trying to bury his real thoughts as quickly as possible.

"I - I'm sorry to trouble you then, Professor."

Snape's vision came back into focus at the melancholy he heard in Hermione's response, and a flash of regret washed over him, before the unemotional exterior resurfaced. He wasn't sure if Hermione had caught the unspoken resentment, but he was now perplexed and more exhausted than ever. Instead of apologizing, something he was inexperienced with and not at all good at, he ran his long fingers through his hair uncomfortably.

"It's fine. Just don't test me like that again. It's not appreciated, and your presumptions about me are incorrect. You don't know me."

Hermione gazed at the floor, no longer able to look at him. "You're right... I don't."

Snape tried his best to ignore the obvious pain mangled with guilt on Hermione's tortured face and cleared his throat. "You can resume your readings, or if you have more pressing homework to do, I will leave you this sole opportunity tonight to do so."

Hermione peered up at him solemnly at first, but then her eyes grew gentler. "No, I'll read, thank you, sir."

She walked back over to her spot and resumed sifting through the pages of one of his Dark Arts books and did not bother Snape again for the rest of the night. For the first time in his teaching career, and in a befuddling moment that threatened to visibly shatter Snape's reserved nature, he veritably detested that the young know-it-all never saw fit to badger or disrupt him with further questions.

Severus moaned into his pillow and abruptly jerked his head. His breathing was powerful as he mumbled something inaudible into the lonely darkness of his personal quarters. His body convulsed beneath the covers, his skin dripping with sweat and soaking the soft linen sheets, far too deep into his nightmares to awaken.

After several more minutes, however, Severus let out an alarming cry—one that would spook anyone nearby if his muffling charm wasn't in place—and shot up in bed. His hair was disheveled and fell all around his eyes, and his wand, which had been on the nightstand, was gripped in his hand and pointed at nothing.

Severus grumbled as he soaked in his surroundings, realizing that there was no threat and no imminent danger. Not now, at any rate. He rubbed at his forehead, feeling the beads of sweat on his brow and the dampened sheets beneath him, and gave a disgusted snarl.

After throwing back the covers, he fumbled for his black night robe in the darkness, not entirely coherent despite his abilities to awaken far more quickly than any normal human being. Once he found the familiar fabric, he fastened it around himself and stumbled his way to the loo. He switched on the faucet and splashed water onto his face to awaken himself. The cold liquid stung when it hit his skin, and he growled at the terribly frigid sensation it brought. He scrubbed the water harshly over and over again, however, and ran his wet fingers through his already dampened locks before turning the water off at last.

Severus chanced a quick glance into the mirror, a non-magical one, thankfully, only to find the reflection of a very pallid and very unhealthy-looking man staring back; a harsh and unforgiving sight that there ever was. He had finally gotten his breathing under control and was able to stare more intensely at his unsightly features: his bloodshot eyes, the blue-tinted skin beneath them, the abnormally large nose that he loathed, and the thrash marks visible on his exposed collar bone and upper chest area. No one ever saw those. He went out of his way to make sure that his scars were always covered.

Severus turned away in shame and exhaled. Flooding images of his latest round of nightmares came sweeping back to him in his now conscious state, and he squeezed his eyes shut, even though it would make no difference. The flashing pictures contained nothing but death, torture, destruction—recent and old, past and present—and they never ceased, heightening the insomnia and weariness that followed him everywhere, in all manners of the day.

The torture's getting worse, Severus reflected, as he gingerly rubbed the back of his neck and groaned out loud. They're becoming more frequent and far too enjoyable to him.

Severus winced as he continued to untie the excruciating knot at the nape of his neck. His body ached and throbbed from last night's latest torture round with his fellow Death Eaters. As the Dark Lord's followers bought more time, they only grew increasingly less patient, as did their master himself. They were all paying for it in one way or another, including Severus, though the ill-treatment he received wasn't as severe as some of the others. Still, he did pay.

Oh, yes... Small favors for the price I pay.

Severus had his fill of these incidents long ago, but it was unavoidable. Dumbledore knew it, and so did he. He would have to stomach whatever the Dark Lord did to him—whatever he and his followers did to others—and simply take it and pretend to seek pleasure in the grotesque. He was, of course, quite used to this delicate game of musical chairs, and was numb to the horrors his eyes bore witness to. But it still sickened him in his dreams. It was only in the lull of sleep that they came vividly alive again, berating his conscience, screaming at him in fury for the countless unforgivable things he had done, took part in, or watched and did nothing about.

It will only get worse. He snarled aloud and hunched over the sink, staring hard and rather revoltingly at his reflection again. How he hated himself—entirely, unconditionally, without question. You pathetic sod, Severus. Such is everything about you. You are nothing; a means to an end. No use in hoping for better.

Severus exited the loo, returning to his bed, sluggish and depleted. Whipping out his wand, he quickly cleansed the sheets and removed his briefs, returning to bed naked and exposed. He didn't care. He wouldn't fall back asleep any time soon—probably not at all for the rest of the night—but he would lie awake regardless, brooding as he so often did, until he finally had to get up and face the obnoxious dunderheads who routinely threatened any small peace he had.

Perhaps Hermione Granger's humorously off-kilter ideas will make this pointless day more bloody interesting, he considered, stifling a yawn as he stared up at the ceiling. Hermione Granger... So much is expected of you... I hope you and Potter are ready for what lies ahead, and what I will do...

Lily... What am I to do?

Hermione was finding it increasingly more difficult to sleep. She was lying awake for hours on end, simply staring at the top of her canopy bed, or at one of the moving photographs on her nightstand.

She didn't like thinking about Professor Snape. Her mind was giving him far too much attention these days, and that in itself alarmed her enough. In fact, she was giving more thought to the Slytherin Head of House than to her beloved Ron, or even to Harry. She was quite relieved that her thoughts were entirely private and that no one suspected anything out of the ordinary. She would be mortified if they knew. It wasn't natural; it wasn't right.

Not that her thoughts were inappropriate, really. She just found the longer her detentions went on, the more intriguing the professor became, even if they were always going head-to-head with each other. She really didn't know any more about him, but in the past few weeks he had talked to her more than he had the entire six years she had been at school. And she found that one-on-one, the wizard was much more tolerable, slightly less irritable, and though still snarky and downright cruel at times, there was something worthy about him. Genuine, too. She couldn't put her finger on it.

You need to stop, Hermione. You're supposed to be using these detentions to your advantage, remember? You're supposed to be digging for information. In truth, she was doing just that, but the progress she had made so far was tediously slow. The more she was in the dark wizard's company, the more elusive and interesting he became, and her intentions flew to the back of her mind. Enough, Hermione! her conscience shouted. Go to sleep already. Nothing good can come of this...

A/N #2: ...Or can it? ;)

A glimpse into what's happening behind the scenes will surface in the next chapter. Expect more rows on the horizon, too. Nothin' like a heavy-handed argument between two wizard brainiacs to heat things up a bit.