"His father was a swine, but that doesn't mean you have to send the boy into the dark like a pig to slaughter!" I crossed my arms across my chest, willing away the anger at Dumbledore's foolish thoughts.

"I don't see it that way, the boy had to know."

"Know? You didn't tell him all of it! He barely knows enough to keep him alive." Albus Dumbledore was old and wise, but he was also stubborn and foolish in my book. "You've got him thinking that hunting is in his blood-"

"It is and you know it!" Albus interrupted angrily.

"That he can just go into the woods and kill the first dark one he comes across! He'll be lucky to only run into a werewolf; because he'll never be able to distinguish an Animagi until his throats is ripped out!" I wanted to pound the man's face into the top of my desk. I stared down at my desk full of papers to grade and future lessons. I decided if it would be any desk it would have to be the one in the Council Hall because I didn't want the papers softening the impact.

The old man sat back with a grunt, "He's not gone out yet. He's biding his time looking into the nature of the beasts and training, he will not go out ignorant."

"These are dark times; I believe we are all ignorant to a point." I retorted.

"Perhaps," His glasses perched at the end of his nose and he seemed to look at my papers in effort to will his thoughts to different things. It would not work, I'd even tried that. "What about Draco? Will he be joining the ranks of Voldemort or is Lucius keeping him from that side of his life?"

I bit my tongue, unsure of how much I wanted to say about the subject. "I'm looking out for the boy. If I'm able I'll keep him as far from this bloody mess as possible."

"Yes, I'm sure you will." He met my eyes, his almost sorrowful. "No matter how much we fight it, we must let others decide their own destinies at times."

I waved off the ill advice. The young man was innocent as of yet, he had not had the chance to follow Voldemort's orders, nor had he told Voldemort of his inability to get close to Miss Granger. I could only hope he was able to keep it to himself for a little bit longer.

"Sirius was a warning." I muttered. Albus looked at me in surprise. "Quirrell went missing and Voldemort assumes he's dead, so he was sending a message to those who defy him."

Dumbledore studied me intently before choosing his next words. "After witnessing the mess left of Black, I assume Professor Quirrell is indeed dead." I didn't attempt to deny his charge, nor did I admit to the unsaid accusation. "I had made a query into his absence, but I had assumed it was Voldemort's doing since you never led me to believe otherwise."

The soft reprisal was there, but even if I had told him there would have still been an act of vengeance returned. Whether he had known earlier or later made little difference.

"What of the Weasley boy?" I asked, no longer concerned with his thoughts of Quirrell. The proceedings of his death would follow Miss Granger and me to our grave if I had my way.

"It is up to Mr. Potter to decide if he wants him involved."

I grunted with disbelief, "You trust a man that is little more than a boy with more confidence than I would dare. One would either think you're incredibly foolish or that you have something hidden up your sleeve?"

"One can think many things." He waved off my question, leading me to believe the man might be wise, but was perhaps losing some of his sanity in the daily battle of trying to teach eager young minds whilst fighting an underground evil. "What about Miss Granger? Has she come to Voldemort's attention yet? She's certainly captured young Weasley's attention, among others."

I had expected the question in the months prior, but hearing it now seemed to strike me speechless for a moment. "Every resident captures his attention at one time or another. Yes, he's heard of her."

I didn't elaborate, leaving the old man to prompt. "And?"

"And I believe we've talked long enough." The old man's eyebrows rose an inch in disbelief, but he knew better than I the consequences if someone caught us collaborating together behind closed doors. There were only so many times one could use the school or council as an excuse before others started to delve deeper into our interactions.

"Professor Snape I would like to continue this discussion soon." He stood, but I already had the door open indicating for him to leave. He staggered out and I slammed it shut behind him, it did good for me to vent my frustrations; people that witnessed the display would see a cruel teacher with the same patience for the old man as he had for the students.

I sat back down in my chair, returning to the essays I'd had the students write. Mulling over what I would tell Dumbledore if he asked again. I hadn't hid much from him, not like I had Voldemort, but Miss Granger wasn't just another pawn in the game. I didn't want either side trying to use her to further their ill schemes, she didn't deserve such treatment. Mr. Weasley's attention?

I looked out the window, my eyes going straight to the already closed library. She was probably happy as things were with her books and annoying chatter, her questions of the world and her chamomile tea. She didn't need the heartache of war or the burden of spying. She was nothing to them. She was nothing to me, but a monthly chore. No. No, that was not right. I ran my hand through my hair, debating what exactly she had become. To me Miss Granger was questions and tea, simple and honest, nothing more and nothing less. Yet, tonight was the first night in months I had stayed late at school to grade papers instead of taking them home. It seemed my house was more desolate without the useless blather and kettle whistles, and I cursed her for making my once beloved sanctuary so. Mr. Weasley's attention? I scoffed.