Much thanks to my editor, Gwen McCormick, and to my dear friend DUJ. All mistakes are mine. Obviously, I am not JKR and am making nothing from this.

The Course of True Love

Chapter 10

October 1998

Severus Snape hated October. The whole month. Oh, it starts well enough, he thought. Cool, crisp air, brilliantly colored fall foliage, leaves like ballerinas pirouetting their way to the ground.

He wrote a huge, red T for Troll on the paper he was grading. Then, he circled it several times, nearly gouging through the paper. "Idiot," he muttered. He shoved it to the bottom of the stack and started on the next paper.

There are apples, he added to his personal list of things he actually liked about October. Biting into crunchy, sweet red apples as the juice runs down your chin. He drew three X's through three paragraphs. He paused and read through the fourth paragraph. With a grunt, he wrote a large, red D on top, shoved it to the bottom and started again.

Green apples are nice, he thought trying to summon some positive thoughts. He knew he needed to stop the pessimism before it began, grew, and filled him. If he didn't catch it, hold it at bay, he'd be lost again come Halloween. He inhaled, a frown line forming between his eyes. Green apples, he forced the thought. I hope Sosty candies some green apples. Their sharp bite balances well against the sweetness.

"Well, well," he muttered. Clicking the top of the pen, he changed the ink to green and drew an A on the top. He placed that paper on the bottom and began grading the last paper in this stack when his office door opened.

"Professor Snape!" Hermione called out. She walked quickly over to him where he sat behind his desk, shaking a bag of galleons at him. "You, sir, are a thief."

His brows came together like approaching storm clouds. "I beg your pardon, Miss Granger," he growled. "I have done many dark deeds, but I am no thief."

Raising an eyebrow in imitation of him, she tried to glare disdainfully at him, but the sparkle in her eyes gave her away. "You are still in possession of my 'magic' pen, are you not, sir?" she queried.

Both eyebrows shot skyward, and he looked down at the Muggle pen he held in his hand. She's teasing me, he thought, and the anger evaporated. "Why, Miss Granger, it seems as if I am, indeed, still in possession of your pen." He held out the pen. "I can assure you it was never my intention to-"

"I'm only teasing you," she said with a laugh. "You can keep it." Still grinning, she pushed the bag of coins towards him. "And here is my first payment on Spinner's End." Her smile faded a bit. "I'm sorry. You're busy, and I interrupted. I can come back later." She turned to go.

"No," he told her. "This is the last paper." He set the quill atop the parchments and lay them on his desk. "Is there something you need?"

She flicked her wand, drawing up a chair, and sat down. "Yes, I'm a bit confused about the grading system." She shrugged. "I just assumed everyone used a similar grading scale. Minerva told me to talk to the Headmaster."

"And what did our illustrious Headmaster tell you?"

"Well, he was rather busy," she replied, "but he said that he had no intention of 'crushing a teacher's classroom autonomy' – whatever that means." She shrugged. "Then, he suggested I ask you."

He snorted. "That's because Minerva and I have been advocating for a less subjective grading policy for years. Congratulations, Miss Granger-"

"Hermione."

"Hermione," he snipped, "Minerva sent you to harass the Headmaster, but he's just successfully foisted you off onto me."

She frowned. "So, the grading system doesn't make sense?"

"It's completely subjective," he complained. "Very few teachers require written as well as actual wand work."

"That wouldn't work with some subjects, though," she pointed out. "There's no wand portion for History of Magic, astronomy, or Muggle studies."

"True, but every course should have a written component."

"What about flying?"

"Every class!" he shouted. "This is a school! Students should be taught by proper teachers who hold them to a high level of accountability!" The great tide of dread, gloom, and cynicism, that came with this season hit him, and he exploded with it.

"Babbling and Vector! Now, those two are proper teachers! They know their subjects well, but Babbling doesn't even bother to read her essays! She just grades them based on length! And I don't think Vector knows the difference between a run-on and a fragment!" He paused to take a breath.

"I would have to include Hooch as a proper teacher. She knows her content backward and forwards, but she could do more to improve student literacy. Aren't there any books on quidditch?" He bolted up from his chair and began pacing the office.

"Sprout knows her subject, too. She's the best herbologist in Europe, but the woman is wishy-washy at best. Oh, she requires written work as well as hands-on activities, but she grades students based on how hard they've worked not whether or not they've actually achieved success!" He wheeled around, his robes flaring out, and pointed at her.

"Oh, oh! And then there's Slughorn! He knows his way around a cauldron, but that's all I can say for the man. And he's fair at grading. It's just that he's 'more fair' to some than to others!" Returning to his chair, he shoved it under the desk and leaned against it.

"And Rubeus!" He sighed and shook his head. "The man is a genius with magical creatures, but he has no idea of how to teach his subject. He needs a mentor, a helper, but if you mention it to Albus, he just shrugs it off." Severus stood upright, snatched out the chair, and threw himself into it.

"And let's not leave out History of Magic! It's been a joke for decades. Most students use the class for a nap!" He jerked opened his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey and two tumblers.

"Speaking of jokes, let's add Trelawney to the pile." He filled the tumblers, thrust one at her, and tossed back the contents of the other. "Don't even get me started on Gubear! That American idiot can't even speak correctly!"

"I tell you honestly if it weren't for Filius, Minerva, Sinistra, and-" He broke off. "Did you know that Sinistra's doing far more than her part? Not only is she making students responsible for grammar and content, but she's also taking extra time to teach students how to write. If it weren't for the four of us, none of the students would ever receive a proper education!"

Hermione sipped the whiskey and coughed. She set the glass back down on the desk. "Well, on the one hand I'm sorry I asked," she said gently, "but on the other I guess you needed to get that off your chest."

He smiled slightly and dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I suppose I did," he admitted. Shifting in his chair, he hesitated before asking, "Hermione, you're my friend?" He waited for her nod, then he inhaled. "It just that I'm always on edge in October," he told her, knowing the admission was cryptic at best.

Hermione frowned, analyzing his words. She gasped softly. "I understand."

His eyes narrowed as he examined her face. "Yes," he drawled, "I think you might." He nodded before adding, "Do you have any questions, Hermione?"

"Well," she said hesitantly. "There is one thing that-" She stopped and looked him in the eye. "Severus," Hermione asked softly, "why did you join the Death Eaters?"

Startled, he looked up at her. Anger again clouding his face. "Why do you ask?" he drawled in that deadly tone.

"I'm not asking simply to be nosy," she said. Then, at his snort, she added, "I'm not!" Hermione sighed. "Sometimes it's good just to talk things out with a friend."

Screwing up his face into an almighty frown, he told her with a sneer, "I got tired of being bullied by such fine, upstanding citizens as Sirius Black, James Potter, and Remus Lupin."

Hermione stared at him for a long, long moment. She nodded. "I know Sirius could be a bit abrasive at times, and Remus just looked the other way," she admitted carefully, "and James Potter, well, there was Lily-" She paused. "But I'm sure there's more to it than that," she said slowly.

"That is not something I care to discuss," he told her. Then he added, "At least not yet."

Slowly, she took in his words and nodded. "But," she said, "a man of your intelligence - For you to join the Death Eaters, well, it must have been more than just the Marauders. Stupid name, that."

Snape snorted with wry amusement. "Yes, they should have called themselves the Tormenters because you can rest assured I wasn't their only target."

Hermione frowned at him. "Just the one most likely to fight back."

"Would you have submitted meekly to their constant harassment? And at four to one odds?"

"No," she replied gently, "but I would have thought you'd have had the sense to report them."

"I did!" he hissed angrily. "Slughorn did nothing because it would impede his social climbing. The Potters and the Blacks were rich and from high society. And my piss-poor family? How could they possibly compare?"

His chest heaved with fury. His face was black with rage. "Slughorn didn't want to hear about my mother's neglect or how my drunken Muggle father used to beat us un-" He broke off, closed his eyes, and began to silently and slowly list the twelve uses of dragon blood.

A long silence descended upon his office while Severus fought for calm and Hermione fought tears. At long last, they softly spoke in unison, "I'm sorry." Giving one another a weak smile, they, again, both spoke at the same time.

"I shouldn't have pushed you."

"I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"Severus," Hermione said carefully, "I can't begin to imagine what you must be feeling." She paused and shook her head. "I do know, though, that you need to let it out. Keeping such pain, such hurt, such, such misery bottled up inside – well, it can't be good for you."

"I know that, Hermione," he whispered. He turned his face down towards this desk. "Until recently, though, I had no one. No one to talk to, to turn to, except Albus, and he-"

"He was talking advantage of the situation as well," she finished the sentence for him. Anger put pink in her cheeks and a martial gleam in her eyes. "But you have other friends now, Severus; friends who are willing to listen without judging you or telling your secrets."

Keeping his eyes on the desk, he picked up her pen and clicked the red lever. Then he carefully lifted his eyes. "Thank you, Hermione. I -" He stopped and stared down at the pen again. Clicking it over to the green ink, he looked back up at her. "I should finish my grading."

"Of course," she answered as she stood up. "And don't worry about exploding like that. I've been known to explode on those around me, too." She smiled at him. "I don't hold it against you."