The Chrysene

by 26Chapters

Year by year mammoth narrations of how Hermione and Severus grew in love with each other..

Chapter 1, Year 4.

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February 1995.

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'Professor,' a familiar voice, which is a distance behind him, sternly calls for him.

In this specific path from the Quidditch field, there's absolutely no one else but him with the title of Professor, neither is there a group of noisy students along the same path, to obstruct his hearing, that he should ignore her clear call.

He does ignore her, however.

Only slightly, does he privately acknowledge the displeasure aroused in him, by the call, by twitching the corners of his mouth. Otherwise, he simply continues ahead with his measured steps, as though he heard nothing from behind him.

'Professor Snape,' the same voice calls for him again, just as clearly as the first time.

With this second call, that distinctly specific honorific, applicable only to him, as he is the only one in the entire school with that name, should be a reason enough for him to stop in his tracks, and attend to the call, and yet, he doesn't.

Once again, he ignores her.

He doesn't in the least expect her to grasp the hint, that he has no interest in answering her call. He does, however, mightily wish that she would, just this once, not follow through with her impulse, and rather leave him to be as he is.

'Excuse me!' her voice goes a pitch higher, apparently picking up to run after him too. 'Professor Snape!'

Even hearing the sound of hard indicative stomps on the ground, knowing fully well that the fourth year female student behind him is desperately rushing to have a portion of his time and attention, he doesn't pause in his way forwards.

It won't do, for him to pause.

The consequence of giving a student –not particularly the one singularly vying for it at the moment- his attention, is potentially disturbing his classified clusters of thoughts, for something unintelligibly useless and wasteful of his time.

'Please, Professor!' the insistent voice finally catches up with him, falling in step with him.

Even so, even having her taking a place which does not belong to her, next to him, he doesn't do her the courtesy of acknowledging her presence. It is simply easier for him to continue in the air that he is not aware of her at all.

He would've continued taking his steps, silently leading onto his desired way, had she not, a small moment after she no doubt realised that she would not be getting any response from him, hastily leapt in front of him.

'Professor Snape,' she firmly presses out of her mouth, her face telling of the mixture of feelings within her.

Crisply, he draws in a breath, as he pulls himself back at the same time, to narrowly avoid collision of his front with hers.

Foolishly impulsive girl!

Does she realise what unintended and forced contact with her, would've done? He's of the mind to roughly wind his arm around her small body, and uncharacteristically thrust her into him, for her to feel just how uncomfortably unbearable that would've been for both of them. She's truly foolish for not including that in her desperate stunt for attention!

'Pardon me, Professor,' she clumsily apologises for her fault.

It's at this point, as he invisibly composes his inside, and fixes his black eyes to narrow at her, that he feels sorely tempted to speak her name with dosed contempt, if only to reject her apology. It would be so easy, he thinks to himself, to hiss her name out of his mouth -solely that-, enough to send her scurrying the other way and away from him... That would most certainly remove her from his sight...

However…

With that look on her face, and specifically taking into consideration how foolishly she just acted to have herself in front of him, he's a little tickled by curiosity. Of course, he still desires to shut her down, and send her on her way long before she has said what she would like to say to him, however, he'll simply settle for wondering if she has no brain inside her skull. That is, until his tiny curiosity is overridden by impatience.

'Please Professor Snape, I'd like to ask something,' she starts, looking the part of forcing herself to speak respectfully, even though it is the last thing that she feels like doing.

She's terribly persistent to get her way, he notes, only barely avoiding to keep his left eyebrow from lifting at her overall conduct. He's not in any manner impressed by her persistence, being that he's taught her for three years now. No, what happened with him and his eyebrow is, he simply caught himself in time, to prevent a daring expression to show on his face, and that way egg on her determination towards a challenge.

'Professor…' she seems to test, and he silently allows her the pausing moment clearly meant to test if he will interrupt her or not. 'I was wondering, if I could request something of you,' she carries on to say when he doesn't speak against her.

That's well enough, he decides after observing that she doesn't look all that at ease to speak to him. Why then, would she go out of her way to ambush him -so to speak- when she hasn't conjured the proper courage to stand in front of him, and not appear afraid of him? How is he to entertain her when she has not determined her will enough to, in the very least, appear composed in front of him? He will not stand for this.

'Miss Granger,' he simply says, holding up his hand to stop her right there.

Immediately after the command to stop herself, the young witch visibly clams up. He should've expected her to do something in that line, seeing as that had been his intention, and yet, witnessing it, he feels a tinge disappointed with her reaction. What if she had simply held her mouth, without the defeat of appearing Petrified? Surely now, he can't only tell her to get away from him, he's also obligated to demean her, for disappointing him.

'Tell me,' he softly poses to her, as though they are politely conversing. 'Do you consider yourself to possess any form of intellect?'

As offended as she instantly paints her face to reflect, she impressively doesn't allow that to hinder her from properly gathering herself up, to silently communicate that he is insulting her, but she won't allow his words to make her doubt herself.

'I do, Professor,' firmly comes from her mouth.

She's slightly impressed him with defending herself, although, it's much too late for him to consider that, as his plan to demean her for disappointing him, is already set. Too bad for her...

'Then tell me why,' he stresses that particular word, 'it failed to latch into your brain, that by not heeding your insufferable calls, I was clearly refusing anything to do with you?'

He's touched an unpleasant spot, he can tell. The way that she looks like she wants to say something, but she holds her tongue, confirms that he's touched an unpleasant spot.

'Hmm?' he purposely presses for a response from her.

For sheer redundancy, he goes as far as to step right into her space, so as to physically intimidate her, on top of making her feel inadequate in the intellectual area. As he knew she would, she takes a long step back from him, pushing his mind to revel in the fact that she's on the other side of what she had nearly done to him. It's not so welcome, is it, he wants to pose to her, to be in close proximity without the other's prepared permission?

'But of course,' he decides to end this with her, once and for all, 'if you couldn't comprehend that I was deliberately refusing you my time, why should I expect you to realise that I will not grant whatever it is you wish to ask of me? Be it anything.'

'But Professor,' she bursts out as if she can't keep her tongue held anymore. 'I only want to-'

The abrupt end of speech, is caused by his swift forefinger to his lips, silently telling her to get back to holding her tongue. Silence. He needs silence and only silence from her. This exchange between them, has been already over since the beginning, only, she didn't catch that. Clearly, she didn't grasp his previous statement, she rather chose to interpret it as him harbouring care to hear her explain in depth, what she 'only wants' from him.

'Be on your way, Miss Granger,' he dismisses her, adding a stern, 'Now!' as a well needed afterthought.

Watching her closely, he sees stubborn tears begin to form in her eyes. She appears as though she will explode without a warning, and while he would be prepared to diffuse the smoke of her explosion, he's quite thankful when she heavily huffs out a long irritated sound, and then turns to start marching away from him.

Hmm, his eyes follow her angry figure, she is something, that Granger.

That attitude of hers, he continues to ponder, not even realising that he has yet to pick up his feet and make them move, it's as though she's telling him that she'll show him, not knowing that there's absolutely nothing that she could show him. If, by some doubtful miracle, she happens to expand herself beyond solely relying on what she reads in books, and also solidify herself to not be intimidated by him, she'll have a fairly outstanding chance of showing him, as is probably in her head. Until then, though, he will continue to treat her this way.

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26Chapters

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That Snape!

He's so...

She may now be settled in the familiar (partly soothing that way) and welcoming area of their house common room, and she may now be snugly seated in a comfortable chair, but still, has the feelings inspired by that teacher lingering in her body, somewhat mocking her. Here she is, in the common room, a place of peace and relaxation, but she is far from being relaxed, thanks to her teacher. That's the mockery of it all; she stormed away from him, to escape him, but he is still with her.

Really, though, that Snape!

He is just so...

Frustrating would be a good enough word to use for him, except, she's more interested in the fact that he's just become another issue on the list of current troubles and issues that she has. As if Harry's upcoming task, Harry's scar hurting, Harry's nightmares, Ron behaving like a buffoon, and then Viktor aren't enough issues to keep her mind busy with worry all the time, there's now Snape, who's... What's the word?

Aaargh! That Snape!

Now, it's Harry, Ron, Viktor and Snape.

Oh, her life!

She wonders, how did her life get to this point again? She's worried about so many things, and she's only fifteen. She feels eighteen, though, if she is to be honest with herself. Being friends with Harry, has made her more advanced as a person, than how she would've been on her own. Normally, she would only just prepare herself for what is expected of her, and a little (two or three steps at the very least) space ahead of what is expected, but with Harry, she's had to do so much research, and literally think on her feet, among taking on a caring and mending role for him, while figuring out which advice to best give him. In short, three years with Harry, have inevitably matured her to feel older than her real age.

At that thought, she smiles a little bit.

Really, if she didn't love that boy, if she didn't care for him as much as she does, she wouldn't even be here. Not only on Snape's bad side, but mature and advanced in her mind, that she's now dating an older boy. Also, if it wasn't for Harry, who knows if she would even have any friends by now. She certainly remembers how back before she found out that she was a witch, and was accepted her at Hogwarts, she never really had friends. Nobody ever wanted to be friends with the girl who knew everything, and never broke a single rule. She had gotten used to the role of advising and helping everybody where they needed help, but she always understood that she would never really have friends.

In the Muggle world, she didn't have big birthday parties, because no one would come anyway, even though her parents could afford it. Even if other children could come, she grew up in a neighbourhood where people were very superficial. Yes, she's always had her own bathroom adjoined to her room, and her parents always gave her what she wanted, even if it was pricy, but she never really cared for grandeur, and so she never felt the need to have parties that had to outdo the previous child's birthday party. Instead, she dressed herself in modest clothing, behaved how she thought not-so-privileged children did, and that made her happy.

Since meeting Harry, though, she's glad that she made a friend in him. And Ron. They are both so extremely important to her, mostly because they are her first ever real friends. She supposes that is why she's always rushing to protect them from themselves, and Harry especially, from getting himself killed, because she doesn't want anything to happen to them, and then leave her by herself. Now that she's had more than a taste of real friendship, she never wants to lose it for anything in the world, which is why she needs, oh so much, to have access to Snape's potions store.

But Snape just...

He didn't even listen to her, that man! He's apparently only interested in humiliating her, and treating her like the pest that she is not. It's not as though she is dying to be in his company specifically, it's only that between Charms and Transfiguration for the type of distraction that she needs, Potions came out the better option, even not having primarily been a contender. She care evaluated the type, the nature and the urgency of distraction that she needs, how she would benefit from it, allowing her time to still be there for Harry, and then she considered all the benefits and setbacks that both Charms and Transfiguration would bring to her.

What stood out the most for her, was that any time spent on Charms, would be over as soon as she learned the proper incantation and right wand movement. With Transfiguration, well, she wouldn't exactly require nearly as much time and precision as she would in Potions. She knew very well that getting around Snape would be tricky, if not impossible, but she told herself that if she didn't try to ask him at least, then she wouldn't have done anything towards her goal of distraction. She tried to ask, of course, but Snape didn't even-

'Hermione?' a voice behind her calls her name.

Instantly drawn out of her thoughts, she looks behind her, to find a second year student –Saveria Andala, she thinks- standing there. She has never actually spoken more than two sentences to the girl, so naturally, she's curious what the girl wants with her.

'Yes?'

'There's someone looking for you outside,' the girl tells her, and then bursts out into a short of giggles, to finally say, 'It's Viktor Krum.'

Viktor? Her stomach suddenly decides to look for a hiding place lower than its usual position. Oh great, this is just what she needs; to see Viktor while she's still in a Snape-induced state of emotion. That should go over well.

'Thank you,' she shows the girl a forced smile, because her spirit is really not feeling up to smiling.

She waits for the girl to get out of sight, before she breathes out an emotion that she can't yet name, then only lifts herself up from the chair to go and see Viktor. On her way to crossing the entrance, she trains herself to gather all of her composure, and think of an excuse to escape spending time with Viktor, if that is what he wants with her. By the time that she leaves the safety of their house quarters, she has a faint smile on her face, deceptive enough to say that she is pleased to see him.

'Viktor,' softly leaves her mouth.

'Hi,' he lifts his left hand in a curt wave, while his face displays a charming smile. 'I vas vanting to talk vif you.'

Oh no, she thinks, nearly losing her deceptive smile, she doesn't want to talk with him. Not today, she doesn't. Well, to be honest, she wants to spend as little time with him as possible, until the whole thing with Ron clears. It's that Ron keeps spoiling her mood when it comes to Viktor, and she doesn't find it fair that Viktor should suffer because of Ron.

'Can I find you later in the evening?' she tries to make an excuse to not have a talk with him.

Frowning, a little disappointed maybe, he asks, 'Vat are you doing now? Ve can talk now.'

'Um...' she shakes her head. 'It's Professor Snape. He...'

Deliberately, she trails off there, because there is no way that she is going to tell him what happened with Snape, when she's not had time to put it into a compartment herself. She would first like to allocate an internal space for her encounter with Snape, and then only can she talk about it with someone else if she has to. Someone else not being Viktor, though.

'He has some vork for you?' Viktor curiously tries to complete the sentence that she never finished.

'No. It's not like that. I just need his potions store for something.'

Smiling like he completely understands, he leans down to kiss her on the cheek. Once he has placed a small kiss on her cheek, (which produces a genuine smile from her at his gallantry) Viktor offers her his arm.

'I vill valk vif you to him, yes?' he offers.

Strangely, she finds that she can't say no to him. She reasons that even if she could refuse him, it would just be horribly impolite to snub him, especially when she already told him that she wouldn't be able to talk with him right now. It's obvious that he came looking for her, because he wants to spend some time with her, so she should at least humour him with the little that he is willing to take from her.

'Thank you,' she says, taking his arm.

As they walk to Snape's office, she allows Viktor to do all the talking, keeping only one ear on the conversation, while her other listens to the thoughts in her head. Her thoughts are that she can't possibly avoid going to see Snape now, no matter how much she doesn't want to. Also, she thinks about how he more or less told her that she's stupid for not figuring out that he had been deliberately ignoring her. She remembers how he sent her away, not even giving the dismissal a second thought, and recalling all that humiliation, she asks herself why she's allowing herself to be lead Snape's way.

She mightily hopes that he won't even be in his office once they get there, that he'd probably be anywhere but near the dungeons, and that way be saved from his nastiness. When they get to his office, though, knocking only once to be answered by him, she realises that hope unfortunately doesn't prevent reality from happening. If only it did, because suddenly now face to face with Snape, it sets in for her that if she doesn't talk to Snape now, she'll have no choice but to go with Viktor.

As the Muggles would say, she's caught between a rock and a hard place.

Viktor being the rock, of course, and Snape, the other thing.

To tell the truth, she would rather head towards the hard place, than be weighed down by a rock.

'Miss Granger...' he speaks to her with an arched eyebrow, and then turns his eyes to Viktor, 'and Mr. Krum... I assure you, your affections for one another, bring me no interest to know.'

Why, he!

Because she hadn't been paying attention to her physical appearance, Snape's words make her remember that their arms are linked together, rather too comfortably. In great haste, as though she poked her hand into a furnace, she pulls her arm free from Viktor's. She only does that, for the reason that she won't be the one to give Snape a reason to insult their relationship. The worst that could happen at the moment, is Snape humiliating her in front of Viktor, and while she's learned to take his insults, although they hurt, she wouldn't be proud to be belittled in front of a guy who thinks that she is wonderful.

'Professor, that's not-'

'Silence,' he softly utters, but with such bitterness that any live plant nearby, would shrivel up.

Well, (not that she appreciates him cutting her off in the first place) she's at least grateful that he didn't hold his finger to his mouth this time, like he did earlier, making her feel like a kindergarten child.

'Mr. Krum,' Snape says to Viktor, 'I trust you can find your way back.'

She barely manages to keep a snort in, because she finds it completely not amusing how he's making it sound like a statement, when it should really be a question. What if Viktor doesn't want to leave her alone? What if being by her side is more important than anything else that he might have to do today? Snape can't just go around giving orders as he pleases, least of all, to foreign students.

'I know my vay, yes,' Viktor agrees with a nod.

No, no, no! She desperately looks at Viktor; he's not supposed to agree to leaving. He doesn't understand, she doesn't want him to leave her alone with Snape. It would be the worst thing ever, to be stuck all alone with Snape. In the dungeons, no less. Who knows what foul things he'd explicitly be comfortable saying to her in here, when it's just the two of them?

'I'll go with you, Viktor,' she says to him, as she finds that is the easiest way to save herself.

'Miss Granger,' is all that comes from Snape's mouth, but it is effective enough to return her attention back to him.

'Forgive me, Professor,' she nearly stumbles on the apology. 'We didn't mean to waste your time, but we will be going now.'

'But you said you need his store of potions?' Viktor speaks up. 'It vould be silly to go vithout talking to him, don't you believe?'

Aaaah! Viktor!

She swears, if only she could disappear at will... But since she can't do that, and she can't return the words spoken back to Viktor's mouth and out of Snape's ears, she'll just have to live through this moment, praying that Snape will chase her away from his door immediately. Snape, for his part after the revelation, instead of keeping his eyebrow up, brings it down to its resting place. That, for some reason, makes her very nervous, as it says to her that he has lost all interest in her, if he ever had any to begin with, that he can't even be bothered to chase her away.

'It's okay, Viktor,' she tries to reason with him, and make an escape. 'I have Potions with him tomorrow. I can talk to him then.'

'Mr. Krum... Leave,' Snape firmly states, obviously disregarding her. 'Miss Granger... In.'

How Snape can always speak threatening orders without rushing himself, or raising his voice, is far beyond her flexibly understanding mind. He does it so well, that she long ago gave up trying to find the secret behind that success of his. Nonetheless, Viktor gets the message right away, gathering himself and whispering a soft promise to see her later on, and then starts to walks away from the two of them. Before his footsteps get further than the third, a faint throat clearing sound breaks through the air, effectively getting her attention away from Viktor to Snape.

One very precise look at him, has her thinking better than to provoke him. If she has to make him repeat the command that he already gave her, he will silently explode with anger, she, suspects, and so to avoid that, she trudges into his office. On her second step, Snape brushes past her, leaving her three steps behind, before she has time to take her third step. On his fourth step, which takes him right into the centre of the room, Snape sharply turns to face her.

Naturally, she rigidly gathers herself into a straight line, her body pretending to be petrified, without consulting het her mind first. It's not so much that she's afraid of him, but the fact is that she's swimming in nerves more than she is not. She and Snape, alone, in his dungeons... Oh, yes, the torturous possibilities are endless. Not only that, but when she eventually leaves his office, no doubt thoroughly humiliated by him, she will have to endure passing through Slytherin territory, filled with Slytherin students.

Oh...

'Speak,' Snape smoothly says to her.

Speak?

She wants to, she really wants to say something to him, but in her mind, she can still see how he cut her off from speaking, the last time she had started to tell him what she wanted from him. Her feelings on that are still raw, and no, she does not want to go through that same thing again, only to help grow deeper emotions caused by involving herself in an attempted conversation with Snape. For her own stability, she remains where she is, with her mouth pressed shut.

'Out,' suddenly fills the silence between them.

It's a complete whisper, but she hears it clearly. She hears the impatience that it carries, and instead of that making her realise that he's irritated by her silence, she rather feels her temper begin to flare. He's truly a man with vile reactions!

'Why did you tell me to come in then, Professor?' she rudely asks.

'I told you to speak,' is all he replies with.

Had he snarled the reply, she would've gotten angrier with him. However, the fact that he sounded as normal as Snape can sound, makes her realise her error. It automatically becomes clear to her, that he doesn't have the patience to entertain her silence, if that is all she came to do here. In his head, he is probably thinking that if she will not say anything, he would rather not be bothered by her presence. She is only left with one choice, which is to start talking. Although, she's warning him, –in the privacy of her mind- that if he tries to interrupt her, she will walk out of here, and never speak to him outside of Potions again, even if she is about to die.

Hastily swallowing for proper motivation to speak clearly, she starts to say, 'Professor, I was wondering if there are any potions that you would like help to brew. I'm asking, because I would like to offer my help, sir.'

The first thing about her actually wanting to brew potions, is that she needs a distraction. A real, tangible distraction from all the mess that is going on around her, even just for a few hours, where she is only to concentrate on something that she can control, other than worrying about something that she can't control entirely. The second thing, is that she wants something to help her be prepared for Harry's sake, in case he needs her help during the actual Tournament. That boy is bound to enter the next task unprepared, so it wouldn't hurt to know if there are potions that Harry could use during the Tournament. Of course, she's not going to tell Snape any of that, though.

'Miss Granger...' Snape painfully pronounces with deliberate precision. 'You take me for a fool.'

Excuse her?

What's the meaning of that statement? Especially when it is spoken so matter-of-factly, as though she once said the words to him, and he vowed to never forget the sound of them. How can he stand there, and accuse her of something foul, when all she did was ask if he needed her help?

'Sir?!' she spits out the exclamation and question merged into one, for him to realise the incredulity of his response.

'I am accurately aware of the stock which I keep in my store...' he answers.

Hotly, she wonders, and?

'And...' Snape stresses the word, 'Small quantities are missing from my store.'

'And you think I took them?'

She's outraged! Between worrying for Harry and school work and... Possibly Rita Skeeter and other things, why would she make time to sneak into his store and steal ingredients? That's a daft accusation to make about her!

'I do not,' he coldly returns, sounding as though he regrets that.

Oh, good, she thinks, beginning to relax her tense body. She didn't realise how tense she'd been until she begins to relax herself, but just as she is getting comfortable in loosening up, he looks starts to say something else to her.

'However, I do believe that your dear Potter, is involved. In some manner or another, my missing quantities have a relation to Potter.'

'Harry didn't take anything from your store!' she impulsively retorts.

Sometime after she leaves his office, she'll probably look back on their conversation, and realise her impulsive answer, came from a protective place for Harry. She'll remember that seeing as nearly the whole school has been thinking badly of him this year, she's developed a knack for defending Harry from even the Headmaster, if she has to. Thus, her unrestrained response.

'I wouldn't expect you to admit it.'

'I would've known if he'd taken anything,' she maintains. 'We'd after all have to work on it together. Don't you know? Harry is too busy terrified for his life with the Tournament as it is, to be entering the dungeons to steal from you.'

It's not entirely true, though, what she said about Harry being terrified. He's actually not as terrified as he should be, but Snape doesn't need to know that either.

'Precisely my point!' he hisses, taking a long step towards her. 'Potter can do nothing without you, and thus you present yourself for aiding me! Dare deny that only for the convenience of Potter, that he should benefit from your cunning, you are currently here!'

'I don't want to steal from you for Harry!' she passionately cries, mildly shaking her head to prove her point.

Only for a short moment after she partly shouts at him, does he allow the sufficient silence needed for him to take a step closer to her. Something about his step, slow measured, though, makes her feel that she will burn if she remains on the spot while he is approaching her, which is why she steps away from his reach.

'Get out now, Miss Granger,' he breathes, clear anger on his features. 'You believe me to be a fool, and you address me as though I were one. Leave.'

He's serious. She can see that much, however, she won't just do what he is commanding of her. For the first thing, he did this to her already! He hurt her feelings and made her feel insignificant. And for the second thing, he's not the bloody wizard of the world! He doesn't own anyone's volition but his own, which means that he cannot do as he pleases with people. He thinks he's so clever he tactfully allowed her into her office, to play on her emotions by casting her out of his office, only so she could defend herself, and thus, give him the opening to accuse her of the reason that made him accept her into his office in the first place. Clearly, he wouldn't have given her a moment of his attention otherwise. He basically just broke her down, to what he needed her to be, to suit him. And that infuriates her.

'No,' she sternly defies his command.

She realises that she is walking on the very edge of the bridge keeping her from plunging into the sea below her feet, but just this once, she will push it out of her important notice, to confront Snape. It may very well be that she is only using him as an outlet to dump all the rubbish that she has been carrying all this time, but whatever it is, she won't leave this room without making it clear to Snape that he is not the wizard of the world, and his actions shouldn't be without consequence.

'I said, leave,' he insists.

And I said, no, is what she answers him in her head with, but out of her mouth comes, 'I didn't steal from you. Neither did Harry. I don't believe you a fool, and I'm not speaking to you as a fool. I only want to brew potions, Professor. It honestly wouldn't have hurt you to say no politely.'

That's all.

There's nothing more than that, that she wants him to know, and now that she has said it, she feels better. Well, she still feels that he's full of foul reactions, although, she feels a little liberated that she got to say her honesty to Snape, after he made it nearly impossible for her to do so. She didn't expect her blunt honesty to be well received by her teacher, so it is no surprise that he studies her face, with eyes narrowed and an unreadable expression on his face. She takes his overall stance, silence and expression, to mean that it's time for her to leave. Readily, she accepts that, not feeling neither particularly pleased, nor disappointed.

'I'll be going now, Professor.'

She doesn't think that she owes him the courtesy, when she should rightfully just walk out in the same line of disrespect that he has shown her, but what can she do? At the end of the day, she may call him Snape in her head, but he still remains her teacher, and is warranted some form of respect from her.

'Miss Granger.'

Her name sounds nearly gingerly coming from his, something like he doesn't want to say it, but he has no choice but to. It does something like caress her anger to be a tamed emotion, no longer flaring. It's odd to her, but she ignores it to answer him.

'Professor?'

'Let me discover that you are taking anything,' Snape reverts to his usual manner of speaking, 'dare I say even air from this room, and you shall severely regret it.'

Her mind stops for a beat, because... What was that? Was that him saying that he believes her? Or was that him telling her that all right, she can brew potions? Which is it, of the two? He should be clearer than that.

'What are you saying Professor?' she carefully questions him.

Making a sound similar to clucking noise, in a drawling voice, he expresses, 'I'm rather already regretting my decision to allow you anything. I should've known that you don't possess any comprehensive skills.'

'So, hang on, Professor... You mean... I can help you?'

That's what she understands at least, she only needs to have it confirmed.

'You're reaching, Miss Granger,' he says in a bored tone. 'I do not require assistance to brew potions. I do, however, think that you would be a smidgeon capable of ridding me of the lesser brews.'

She's dreaming. She's dreaming. She has got to be dreaming, because this is not possible, is it really?

'By myself?'

Suddenly, she's bubbling with relieved happiness. Brewing potions is exactly what she needs, and without the presence of Snape, it will be a freshly-mown-grass and parchment smelling heaven, stacked with all the books that she could ever want. Snape on the other hand, doesn't seem to share in her sentiments, for he stares at her as though she's a different creature from the one that entered his office some moments ago.

'Were you hoping that I would hold your hand?'

'That's not what I meant, sir,' she retorts, feeling her face growing hot at the thought of holding a teacher's hand.

In this very moment, she can actually sympathise with Ron for what he had to go through when McGonagall danced with him, asking him to place his hand on her waist. She couldn't ever imagine holding the hand of a teacher. Except for Hagrid, of course, but Hagrid is Hagrid, so he doesn't count at all.

'It's just that I don't expect you to leave me by myself in your brewing store, Professor,' she explains to his arched, possibly curious eyebrow.

At her explanation, he audibly snorts, but his shoulders also make a bare movement. It's not exactly a laugh, what he lets out of his mouth, but somehow, it is.

'And still, you continue to reach, Miss Granger. I couldn't bear to be confined with you in my potions store, much less during the delicate process that is brewing. Am I not a wizard, that I should babysit you?'

So... She looks at him carefully, thinking about how he'll ingeniously spell the place for his awareness, and how she'll be in it all by herself.

'Thank you, Professor,' she genuinely thanks him, adding a smile as well.

As she expected, he ignores her gratitude and smile, rather choosing to tell her to meet him back in his potions classroom two days from now, if and when she has a free period during the day.

'Thank you, Professor,' she says again. 'I'll be here, I promise.'

In response, before giving her his back, he mumbles something that suspiciously sounds like 'unnecessary,' but she doesn't care. He just said yes, she can brew potions, which means that she'll have her distraction at last. Not to mention the possibility that she might come across something useful to help Harry along the Tournament.

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26Chapters

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A day ago, back in his office with Miss Granger, precisely after she disappeared from his sight, and he found himself thinking back to his exchange with her, a quite disturbing thought entered his mind. As a consequence of the thought, some precious muscles on his face twitched in a rather unpleasant way, even for his usual demeanour, immediately shunning the thought. His mind, for it's part just as hastily rejected the idea, instructing him that as she was no longer in his presence, it would not do, to give the subject of her any more thought. He instead firmly reminded himself that outside of his Potions classroom, he shouldn't be giving Miss Granger any small room in his mind. That was how he convinced himself to revisit that particularly disturbing thought, only once he saw her on their set appointment; not a second before, and definitely not within his Potions classroom.

Unfortunately, that set appointment has now come.

Internally sighing, he brings to his conscious how he honestly would've preferred if it this appointment didn't come at all, so that he wouldn't be forced to retrieve from the deliberately repressed stores of his mind, a particularly disturbing thought concerning one of his students. And not only one of his students, but one of the only two students in their year, who he feels that he shouldn't be wasting any of his favour on. Apart from Potter, Miss Hermione Granger is the only other student in their entire year, that he feels shouldn't have any part in his approval, seeing as she already gets it from the rest of the staff, and she also seems to have an insatiable need to visibly excel in front of others. Excelling is not his problem with her, it's rather her need to make the whole world aware of her excellence, that he is against.

But never mind that.

That fault of hers, and his distaste for it, can wait until one of his Potions lessons.

For now, she is here, and the sound of her voice is calling for his attention from the door, leaving him no other choice, but to grunt his reply to her, while he prepares his mind to confront that very disturbing thought that he had filed away, for later use. He also lifts his head, mostly to inspect that she indeed is dressed in school uniform, as she ought to be. Her being in uniform confirms that she does have a free period, and is not excused from lessons today. With the all the disturbance caused by the TriWizard Tournament this year, nearly anything is possible, especially after Potter got into the Tournament.

'Miss Granger,' he acknowledges her approaching presence.

'Good afternoon, Professor,' she greets him.

'You have a free period, I take it?' he rhetorically asks, setting his quill down at the same time.

At times, he likes to do that; he likes to ask questions that she precisely has the answers to, just so he can shut her down with a snide comment when she replies to them. He would not stretch as to say that he derives pleasure from doing it, however, he cannot say that he doesn't get some inkling of satisfaction from it either.

'I actually have two free periods, sir,' is her reply.

If he hadn't already had his eyes on her, he would've looked up at her, for the sole reason of viewing the accompanying facial expression to that reply. Her tone came out with such pride, as though she found pleasure in proving his assumption wrong, that a careful look at the expression to go with it, is innately required from him.

He doesn't find a self-satisfied look on her face, but still, his eyes leisurely roam over her face for longer than they ought to. If mostly -only- to dive into that disturbing thought that he had that day, he keeps his eyes travelling all over her face. Against his better will, as he did then, he begins to wonder if by allowing her to brew potions like she asked him to do, he somehow developed a slight tolerance for her. The very foundation of that thought is unstable, because he simply can't have developed that sort of thing, for that sort of student. He simply can't.

Tolerance, really?

For Miss Granger, really?

He thinks not.

Tolerance, to him, is a sacred form of acceptance, and no, he does not just happen to have it for any which being who crosses his path. Much less a hungry student such as Miss Granger. It disturbs him to even wonder if he has, because the probability of that, is as void as him being married to the love of his life. That being so, he can't possibly have developed a tolerance for Miss Granger, out of everyone that is within his range of acquaintance. And now replaying the boasting note in her tone, he can satisfactorily confirm that absolutely not, he has not developed a tolerance for Miss Granger.

'Hand me your timetable,' he softly orders as a way of relieving himself from his previous thoughts.

For a short moment, he watches her rummage through the bag slung over her shoulder, until she hands her timetable over to him. Taking it from her hand, he casts his eyes down to study her schedule, and then with his wand, waves over it to circle three separate days and six separate free periods. Four of the six periods, he really counts as two separate, because they are double free periods. He finds the chance odd, that she happens to have double free days on the days that he too has double free periods. Although he says nothing to her about the strange coincidence as he hands her timetable back, he's honestly just relieved that she has a sufficient number of free periods during the day. It's better for him that way, because he can mix whatever nuisance she is likely to become, in with the mess that the rest of the students seem to create for him to deal with during the day, as opposed to making her a nightly burden. With that somewhat pleasant thought, he holds her timetable out for her to take, which she does.

'Are these the days that I'm supposed to meet you, Professor?' she curiously asks

Even though he slightly draws his eyebrows closer together, he doesn't give her a verbal response. Rather, he slowly rises from his seat, turns his face away from her, his back following, and then begins towards his store, at a pace that suits him and his time. On his own life, if she does not take the hint and follow him, he will send her out of here with enough humiliation to thoroughly carry her through the remainder of the year.

A large part of him, is actually hoping that she won't follow him, just so he can have the opportunity to say something hurtful as repayment for her asking that question, as though they are comfortable acquaintances mutually set to convene every so often. Just as the tolerance thought disturbed him before, this unintended assumption is blatantly disturbing to him too. He hardly likes to think of his presence in Lucius Malfoy's home as meetings, and here is a student making the subliminal, albeit unintended presumption that he would readily agree to a meeting with her, without suffering from invasion of personal time?

Her ambition is limitless!

In any case, he keeps his steps in line, still moving towards the stores, and still taking it for granted that she is following him. He wonders if he should start regretting it yet, that he allowed her the opportunity to be here in the first place. If he did, he would certainly be saving himself the disturbing and unpleasant thoughts. But oh, well… If he is to tire of her, he will simply terminate his agreement with her.

'Professor,' her voice sounds close to him, but he does nothing to acknowledge her call, 'I've looked up some of the simplest potions that I could start brewing. I also looked for the much more complex potions, but I was wondering if you would be assigning me which potions to brew?'

She looked up potions to brew?

He could snort at that, the way that surprises him in no way at all. He wouldn't have expected any less from her, although, he is a smidgeon tickled as to why in the world she seems to have it in her head, after he clearly outlined it to her that he doesn't trust her all that much in his potions store, he would allow her the freedom of choice of what to brew?

Her ambition is indeed limitlessly extensive.

And simply for that reason, he ignores her question.

For now.

Once they have entered his store, knowing very well that she's directly a step behind him, he swiftly spins on his heel, causing her to hastily jump back from him. That effect on her, is one that he likes immensely, even though she doesn't really cower away from him, as much as she makes space available between them.

'Your assumption that you are at liberty to choose what you brew in here…' he pauses, only to allow his words to seep into her understanding, before he finishes with, 'Is incorrect.'

In response, actually taking him by surprise, she innocently looks at him as her mouth expectantly lets out the question, 'What will I be brewing then, Professor?'

Did she not catch his irritable statement? Did she not detect his distaste for her assumption? Did she not realise that he stripped down whatever privilege that she thought she had, with mere words? Can she really stand there, looking at him with naïve innocence, and tell him that she can't see his attitude towards her? Or she simply choosing to believe a fantasy that is in her head?

'Miss Granger…' he slowly tests the name on his tongue, using the time to narrow his eyes at her too.

'Yes, Professor?'

There it is again. That same expectant innocence. Clearly, he did not inspire such a reaction from her, so where in the world did she find it fitting to behave this way around him? He had been about to snap at her, but her blank innocence redirected his brain from his 'Insult and Injury' encyclopaedia, to sheer concession. Something about her response now, reminds him of how he suddenly found himself relenting to her initial request that day. Seeing as he doesn't want to go back to wondering about the specific why of concession, he chooses to answer her question after all.

'You will be brewing base potions,' he says to her.

'Base potions?'

'Is that not what I said?'

He has no doubt that she at least knows what base potions are, and that her question is rather specifically to help her know for which potions she is going to be starting bases for, however, he wouldn't be Severus Snape if he made her quest for answers extremely easy, by omitting his lightly salted responses. At least this time, she seems to recognise what he did with his words, because she frowns at his question, losing the blank innocence from before.

'But which base potions, Professor?' she carefully clarifies.

What he will not do, he decides in his head, is he will not indulge her. She is, after all, the one going to be brewing them. Taking that into account, she should be able to use the set methods and ingredients, to work out which bases she is dealing with. What he will do, though, is turn from her and make as though he is rather occupied with visually getting what she will need, while talking to her.

'For now,' he deeply starts, 'you will only need to brew three base potions. These three need particular chilling, for a certain amount of days, before they are added to another brew mixture of the entire potion.'

'But for which potions, sir?' she insists on knowing.

But this girl… Honestly…

Internally sighing and rolling his eyes just the slightest, he thinks about how he should've known that she would not be satisfied with not knowing what it is exactly she is helping to brew. Still, though, he won't tell her, despite her curiosity. Which is why to expertly avoid answering her question, he starts to move his feet and gather the ingredients that she will need into a cauldron. Once he is finished with that, he produces a piece of parchment with everything that she will need, together with a list of instructions on what to do, places it inside the cauldron, and then leads her out of his store, back to the open area of his office where she will be able to set up a brewing station.

'Take this,' he thrusts the cauldron towards her, which she readily takes.

'Professor, what am I allowed to do in here?'

But of course, his hope that she would get to working alone without bothering him with a single question, had been too much of a magical stretch. No matter, though, it is rather fine that she asked that question. Not that it gives her any credit in his book, in any case, but at the very least, she is well aware of her place in his office. While he has no intention of telling her what to do while she does it, in terms of the brewing, or even standing to watch over her as she does it, he has a keen interest to let her know that he does not trust her. Actually, unbeknown to her, one of the reasons that made him change his mind about leaving her alone with protective spells in place while she brewed by herself, was the terrible implication that in leaving her alone inspired; that he trusts her.

Absolutely not. No. He does not trust her!

She's Potter's right hand, right leg, and right part of the heart, so there's nothing about her for him to trust. What's significantly worse, not adding to her case at all, is that she is volunteering to do this outside of the school curriculum, with no academic benefit for her, in terms of merits. For the showy student that she is, he cannot even begin to want to trust her, after considering that.

'You are not… To enter my store without me,' he begins to list. 'You are not… To leave a brew unfinished. Ever!' he stops talking then, only to allow his meaning to settle in for her.

If she has to be late for her next lesson –and he prays that it would conveniently always be his- then so be it, and receive the necessary punishment. She chose this, and that alone qualifies her to be obedient to his conditions.

'You are not…' he picks up his listing, 'To carry any brew out of here. You are not… To discuss these brews with your peers. And you are not… Miss Granger… To behave as though this is a luxury afforded to you. Also… It might do you good to remember that it is your choice to terminate this agreement. Verbally.'

Visibly swallowing after his terms, she minimally inclines her head to answer, 'Yes, Professor,' in acceptance.

Those two words are as good as her signature. Their agreement may not be a formally written parchment of words, but it is just as binding as another other wizarding contract. Whether she knows it or not, she has just agreed to contract with him, only being truly free once she tells him that she wants to continue no more. Seeing as she willingly came to him, she should be the one to willingly end their agreement.

'All right then, Miss Granger,' he partly mocks. 'Begin.'

Her head moves in a nod, and while he would usually not want to be watching over her, he finds that for at least some moments, he should stay to see if his presence looming over her, serves as an imposition on her. It would be much better for him, if he intimidates her to the point where she gives up this whole brewing idea, and he will be free of her once again. Just the thought of her giving up before she begins a certain appeal this him.

'Professor...' she seems to test for his reaction, even though she is now concentrated on getting her cauldron clean of its contents. 'I've always wondered about something...'

'No doubt,' he drawls in response, 'you are going to make me listen to your fruitless wonders?'

'It's just... Professor... The first potion maker. I wonder about how he gathered all the ingredients. How he knew what to do. How he knew precisely how much to add, and of which calibre. I've often-

Right there, is where he expertly waves his hand between them, and the sound of her voice instantly stops reaching his ears. A small smile, a delighted smile even, paints on his face as he watches her mouth continue to move together with the working of her hands, and the concentration of her eyes keep on the work, but he is no longer able to hear what she is saying. Fortunately, because he has no interest to know about her wonders, it's easy to tune her out.

If he had an interest to know until the end of her wonders, he'd tell her that sometime during his life, he managed to procure three pages of the original journal of the first potion maker's assistant, who had joined only three years after that potion maker grew weary of taking everything on by himself. He'd then narrate to her, that the journal itself doesn't do much to detail potions, but rather the behaviour and conclusions of the potion maker. It is rumoured that the assistant's journal had around seven thousand rolls of parchment in total, of which he barely has three pages, but a fraction torn off from the entire roll... No, just no, he has no interest in giving her all that information.

If she wishes to talk, she may. However, she should not delude herself into thinking that he will entertain his ears with the sound of her voice. He watches her, though. He watches her, because he would very much like to see her reaction when she realises that she is talking to herself. Nearly as though she heard his thoughts, she looks up, and she hastily closes her mouth, apparently realising that she's talking too much. After that, she hangs her head in shame and continues in silence.

Just as he thought, he inwardly celebrates, she didn't even hold contact for longer than she's holding her shame. Shame does that to people, excellently so. He doesn't care much for her being brave, because that does nothing for him, but he would want better than that from her. Even if she considered herself brave, his definition of brave extends far beyond courage, and more into what normal people would call insanity. So whether she is brave or not, that is not what he seeks from her, no. If she were to impress him even a fraction with so-called bravery, she would have to do, or say something drastically out of character for her goody-two shoes behaviour, and then have the strength to stand by that for as long as it takes.

March 1995.

'I guess we're going to the library, then?'

It's Ron presenting the question to her and Harry, but it rather sounds like he doesn't want to do any such horrific thing. Seeing as she is used to Ron after all these years, she only spares a fraction of her time to that how strange it is for him to feel that way, when Hogwarts' free periods are specifically designed for library time. Only he would see time at the library as a curse that has no counter.

'I guess,' Harry answers him, saving her the trouble of opening her mouth with a snappy reply.

She swears, between Moody's methods of teaching, (which she thankfully just exited) and Ron's very verbal intolerance for extra study and research time, she doesn't need much else to set her off towards producing a jinx. It's just as well that her free periods are now dedicated to Potions, because she's not all that certain that she would be able to endure more of Ron, while in her usual post-Moody mood.

'You two can go ahead,' she tells them, 'I won't be going.'

She wouldn't have imagined that she said anything wrong, had Ron not chosen the moment she makes to go her separate way, to stand in front of her, wearing a puzzled look on his face. Well, actually no, now that she's studying him, trying to figure out what he means by blocking her way and looking at her that way, she corrects herself to think that he rather looks unsure of her identity at the moment; she swears, his expression says that he doesn't recognise her.

'Hermione?' he calls her name as though testing it, as though he's not entirely sure that she goes by that name anymore.

Not amused by his tone, she acidly spits, 'What Ronald?'

He should know by now, that she only uses his full name under two circumstances; when he's talking rubbish that she cannot organise in her head, and when he attempts to get under her skin, where he clearly cannot fit.

'Are you quite all right?' he wonders, maintaining his air of puzzlement.

'I'm perfectly fine,' she replies, although the answer comes out snappier than it should.

'Then why aren't you rejoicing that we're offering to go to the library?'

That's a totally ridiculous question, she hotly thinks in her head, while her eyes narrow at him. Is she his mother? Is she supposed to congratulate him on every responsible choice that he is supposed to make in and for his life? Well, she has news for him, her role in his life did not expressedly come with that strict requisite! But of course, the sensitive boy that Ron is, she can't tell that to him, not if she doesn't want to spend the weeks not talking to him. She will have to water down her response.

'I said you two can go ahead, didn't I?' she mildly replies to him. 'Besides, I have Potions with Professor Snape now.'

Solely for courtesy's sake, is she referring to him as Professor Snape in front of her friends. They call him Snape amongst each other all the time, but she likes to believe that she did something right to get the teacher to give her permission to brew potions, and so should not be taking any chances that lead her in the direction of losing that. It's only that more than before, Ron looks at her as though her face just disfigured completely.

'Hermione, you can't mean remedial Potions?'

Ugh! Ronald Weasley! He's changed to now looking at her as though she has overly large teeth all of a sudden, and that doesn't sit well with her. Honestly, he's the only wizard she is close to, who can animate his face so theatrically.

'And why would I need remedial Potions, Ronald?' she snaps at him. 'I'm quite capable of brewing potions, in case you haven't noticed.'

'Then why are you having extra Potions with Snape?' Ron insists.

'Because I asked him, and he said yes.'

'You're mental, Hermione!' he exclaims, turning to Harry to say the same thing to him. 'She's mental, isn't she, Harry? I mean, Snape's going to deduct even more house points from her when he can. Why would she ask him for extra Potions lessons?'

As much as she can't keep herself from rolling her eyes at his unfair deduction, she does manage not to exclaim her response to him, because at the very last moment, she realises that it's not worth it to argue with Ron. Truly, why would an argument with him be worth the action itself, when, for the love of magic, he thought that she'd be having remedial Potions. She, Hermione Granger, doing remedial Potions? Ha! Ronald Weasley. He's a character, that one.

'They're not Potions lessons, if you must know.'

'What will you be doing with him, then?' it's Harry who asks her this time, his calm curiosity being a welcome difference to Ron's bursts.

That's a more sensible question from Harry, less judgemental, in fact, and yet, it's answer is one filled with a small list of accompanying reasons, that she doesn't want to have to explain, where they stand. They only get fifteen minutes of intervals between classes, solely to provide them enough time to get from one class to another on time, and she can't waste much of that time, getting into the specifics of everything that has lead her to have brew potions with Professor Snape. Of course, she could just right out tell him that she will be brewing potions, but that what would that answer be to Harry, if it didn't have a context that would satisfy his curiosity?

Another time, when and if Harry brings up the subject, and they are somewhat in a settled state, she will gladly tell him the truth. It's quite easy for her to make this mental promise, because throughout the years, she's learned that Harry, although foolishly impulsive, is more understanding and able to trust her with decisions. He doesn't always listen to her, but in a way, he's like her parents, who trust her to make the better of choices for herself and those important to her. The good thing about Harry, is that even when it feels like he wants to judge, he doesn't immediately do it in the way that Ron does it. Tactlessly, in other words, which in turn leads her to want to confide better in him.

'I'll only be brewing Potions, I promise,' she calmly tells Harry. 'I doubt I'll even get the chance to speak to him, because he sort of made it clear that I am not to speak to him.'

'It's strange, though, isn't it?' Harry says through a frown. 'Why would Snape allow you to brew Potions with him?'

'I don't know,' she shrugs, 'and I didn't want to ask him either. I'm just fine with brewing Potions.'

She won't correct Harry on the bit about brewing with Professor Snape, but only because it's not an important thing to mention out here in the corridor. What's more pressing, is him knowing that she's really just all right with brewing potions. She doesn't necessarily expect more than that from Professor Snape, and he's made it clear that he wants nothing to do with her, so she is perfectly all right with just having control of having how a potion turns out once she is finished with it.

'You'll let me know if Snape does anything to you, won't you, Hermione?'

'He's a teacher, Harry,' she softly argues, although she does appreciate his concern for her. 'He won't do anything to me.'

'I don't mean like hit you, or anything…' Harry defends his offer. 'But he's Snape, so I don't really trust him with you.'

'I'll be fine,' she assures him, choosing to trust her teacher. 'Plus, he told me that if I want to quit, all I have to do is tell him.'

'That's probably what he'd like you to do anyway,' Ron comments a little darkly.

Now that he's mentioned it, her brain quickly gathers itself together, to expertly create the theory, that he must've purposely set it up that way, just so he can shove it in her face what a quitter she is, and he hadn't expected anything from her either way.

But why hadn't she thought of that when he was presenting that to her?

She knows why, now. She's remembering just how happy she'd been to receive a positive answer from him, that she allowed her emotions to cover her mind against its proper use. How could she have been so stupid?!

'Well, I'm not going to quit,' she violently declares, only afterwards realising that her answer could be heard as an attack on Ron.

She instantly regrets it, seeing Ron's taken aback reaction, although on the other hand, she won't apologise and give him the satisfaction of him being accurately right about something against Professor Snape. He's irritated her enough during their exchange, for her previous response to have been a small act of revenge, even though she hadn't meant for it to be that way at all.

'We,' Harry points between him and Ron, 'know that, but what will you be brewing anyway?'

'I'm not allowed to tell…' she hesitantly says, her eyes moving from Harry to Ron. 'And to be honest, Ronald, I wouldn't tell you right now. You're being a little unreasonable.'

Apparently, Ron is offended by that accusation, because he pulls his face back in protest as the mirroring words leave his mouth, 'Unreasonable? I'm worried about you being alone with Snape, brewing poison most likely, with him, and I'm being unreasonable? You are something else, Hermione,' he concludes by shaking his head.

'Think what you will, Ronald Weasley' she advises him, 'but I don't want to be late, so I'll see you both in the next class.'

'See you,' Harry says, apparently accepting her decision, where Ron only stares at her.

No matter, she tells herself, Ron will learn to get used to it. Or better yet, he will find something to distract that fact concerning her. She'd much rather prefer the last of the two, but whichever she gets, she will be content with. Led by that thought, she starts to go in the direction she is needed in, when she remembers something important, making her stop in her steps, and turn around to tell them what she forgot to say.

'Do some research on your next task, Harry,' she sternly commands. 'Help him, Ron! He needs both our help.'

She's sure, she's absolutely sure that Ron has some question in his head about why she's always telling them what to do, but he thankfully doesn't ask it. It's just as well that he doesn't ask her, because she is saved from answering, that if she left them up to them, they wouldn't get much –in the sense of progress in any part- accomplished.

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26Chapters

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Although she finds his office door already open, she still knocks on it, for permission to enter. Experience has taught her that Snape is predictably unpredictable. With him, there's always a certain way that he's sure to react, but there are times when he could be deceiving someone into believing that he would be different, only to pounce on them. In order to preserve her interactions with him about brewing potions, she has to make certain that she does nothing to help her in losing this opportunity that she has been given.

'In,' comes a gruff reply from inside in his office.

Carefully stepping in, she doesn't immediately have a view of him once she is a few steps away from the door. His profile, only comes into view when she is a good ten steps inside, and is able to see more inside the room. Only upon seeing him studying one shelf on his feet, does she offer him a greeting.

'Good afternoon, Professor.'

'Everything you need is on the table,' is his deep response to her greeting. 'Do not bother me.'

Wow, she thinks, what a greeting. But oh well, she is all right with this. It could've been worse. He could easily have been narrating to her, how stupid she is, or humiliating her in some verbal form, but instead he is leaving her to own devices, as though he trusts her to follow his instructions.

She must think, though, that she is surprised that he has decided to be present while she brews. He'd assured her that he is a wizard, and would by no means be holding her hand, or watching over her while she brewed, and yet here he is. Really considering it now, the failure to do what he said he would do, actually negates her previous thought of his trust towards her.

Only, that in itself, is not as simple as it should be.

Not when she goes deep into thought about it.

On the one hand, he clearly doesn't trust her to leave her alone in his office, while on the other, he seems to not trust his own protective spells against her. Any which person could think of the second fact, and choose to look at it as a compliment on their person, that he believes them competent enough to break through his protection. However, she, knowing Snape, finds it be more logical to look at it from another angle; the angle that he suspects her of having the audacity to attempt to break through his protection, for the purpose of stealing from him. So really, in the end, when it all comes down from the boil, he simply doesn't trust her. End of story.

Well, she inwardly scoffs, that's nothing new. It's only a shame that she used a portion of her time to come to a conclusion that she should've easily assumed from the beginning. But in any case, even though he doesn't trust her, he's giving her a chance to be here. She imagines that that must be something hard for him to have agreed to, and for that sacrifice, with whatever agenda lies behind it, she is currently grateful for, and she intends to let him know.

'Thank you, Professor,' she says to him, meaning it dearly.

Having been shunned before in her life, having experienced the -sometimes- pure and selfless desire to help, she knows what a genuine word of appreciation can do for someone in that position. She is well aware of how easy it is to be cast aside, and be distrusted for being who she is, and so she feels that in a very sugar cube sized sort of way, she can relate to her teacher in the moment. Just now she considered that he might have an agenda for giving her this opportunity, instead of giving him the benefit of the doubt, which is why she thanked him from the sincerity of her soul. Her verbal gratitude, is primarily her atonement for her mental suspicions of him, but she appreciates that he hears it, and looks up at her then, with his face clean of anything negative for a moment. That is, until he apparently finds that she's looking at him for far too long.

'I said not to bother me, Miss Granger,' he pronounces quite clearly.

Of course, her stomach sinks a little bit at the blatant rejection, he wouldn't be Snape, if he didn't find anything to snap about. She should've just kept quiet, but really, can't he just accept something of appreciation? Is he so closed up, that nothing enters him?

'I was just thanking you, Professor.'

'As I was just telling you to not bother me,' he maintains in a dismissive tone before going back to studying his shelf.

Him returning to his work, is definitely a sign that he has no intention of entertaining her again. He already told her that she is not to leave a brew unfinished, and the more time she spends looking at him and wondering, the more time she'll spend in here and possibly be late for her next class. If that happens, he's probably not going to give her note for that.

Still, though, she would've liked him to accept her gratitude.

Honestly, that Severus Snape professor… He's a whole row of degrees of separation from the entire wizarding community courtesy, that no one can ever be on the same plane as him.

---

26Chapters

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Starting off, -for at this point, he will not attempt to deceive himself with a lie- particularly for the first three sessions, he had given much of his time to thoughts on the subject of Miss Granger. In varying degrees, and oddly, at the strangest and inopportune of times, he had found himself either straying to the memory of her during their meetings, or, absently landing his eyes on her whenever they happened to be in the same vicinity.

It seemed to him then, during the stretching time between those first three meetings, that in the workings of his mind, he couldn't keep the subject of Miss Granger from surfacing whenever it pleased. Thus, in those unwelcomed moments, he would find himself engaging his mind, to trying to find the unknown madness that made him change his mind, and agree to allow her access to his valuable time and costly potions ingredients. When it wasn't that thought that accompanied the matter of Miss Granger in his mind, it was the thought of rethinking his leniency of giving her the uninterrupted plane to brew potions for him. Either option of thought, took a fraction of his peace away, because no, he didn't want to be giving the girl any thought, more and beyond than that he already saw her on a day to day basis.

Really, as though his eyes seeing her several times a week in his class wasn't enough, adding the newly started non-curricular brewing, him mind treacherously went on to allowing her to take up a fraction of it. In those times, the subject of her would leisurely stay for as long nothing else abruptly took his mind's attention from it. As no other student had done to him before, Miss Granger had made him face the longest mental week.

After that first week, however, things changed.

Miss Granger still showed up at his door on time, she still knocked on his door, announcing herself to him before she entered the room, and she still offered him a polite greeting, although, she didn't attempt to talk to him, or even look at him beyond what of him, the line of vision when walking into the room allowed her. She simply put her bag aside, rolled back the sleeves of her jersey twice on each arm, and then began on the base potion that he had ready for her to prepare. She readily set her concentration on what she was supposed to do, and it was in observing her work, that he found it worthless to spend any more of his thoughts on the girl. The wordless manner in which she deviated from the behaviour very characteristic of her, hit him as a revelation, and forced him to do the same, for at least that particular meeting.

That particular meeting, became a usual thing, he found.

She would repeat her routine, nearly precisely as the previous time, right down to the time that she bid him a polite goodbye, and he found himself taking from her cue each and every time. Less and less, day after day, his mind self-generated thoughts of her, to the point where he could easily look at her, especially during his class, and not at all wonder if he had done the right thing in granting her the favour of brewing in her free time.

As the weeks went by, and she continued coming to his class, getting right into brewing without exchanging more than what had become customary between them, he no longer questioned himself on the subject of Miss Granger. He also no longer wondered if he was somehow becoming less of himself, less of suspicious and untrusting Snape, because he didn't spew scalding words at her, and the sight of her in his doorway no longer caused immediate irritation within him. Although their lack of exchange could hardly be called anything close to civilised interactions by anyone but him, he didn't dwell on that either.

He truthfully found no need to, not when she kept to herself, didn't bother him, and left him with prepared potions at the end of her stay. Had she been doing what was typical of her, such as ceaselessly attempting to impress him, or never keeping the questions in her mind from escaping through her mouth, he would have had a firm reason to remain in the character that had made a reputation for him. As it was, that character never found a reason to be active when it was only the two of them, that is, until now.

It had to be now of all times, on the very day that he especially counted on her silent working, to be left alone with his thoughts. He counted on this silent time with, because during the rest of the day, he has classes to attend to, and at night, the Headmaster has made it part of his routine to convene with him, thus, leaving little room for his thoughts to keep him company. However, it seems that she too, must insist on being a bother.

Sacred magic, the girl has absolutely no sense.

They had been doing so well in the regard of having a silent understanding between them, he didn't speak to her, and she didn't bother him. He had believed that he could get through the year in that precise way, following that routine between them, and yet, the feeling of the burn of her eyes on him now, is clear proof that he had expected too much, from someone too incapable of not flaunting her presence to whoever is available.

He had truly expected too much indeed.

Sorely so, he's tempted to lift his head from his work, and then raise his eyes to hers, because really, nearly two months of an understanding, and she is willing to disrupt that now? Naught sense (and consideration, might he add) at all! She must not have an idea of how close she is, to disturbing the somewhat balance that he had kept himself him, which prevented him from being true to his caustic behaviour with her.

He never should've given her any passes from his harshness.

Who knows, perhaps, if he had kept his behaviour, she would've known not to do something such as this. It will serve him nothing to think of all the ways that he could have intimidated her to remain cautious in his presence, though, neither will those thoughts get her with certainty, to stop looking at him. If he is to stop her from entertaining her eyes with him, and then prevent it from happening further onwards, he will have to open his mouth.

'Is my name on the parchment of instructions that I left you, Miss Granger?' he slowly gets out of his mouth.

'No,' she quickly replies, quite shortly actually.

And there it is, he notes with a small mental smile. There is that defiant attitude of hers, the very one that initially contributed to him allowing her the space to brew potions, also the same one that she has kept tucked in for nearly two months. As though she had been expecting that precise question from him, just so she could proudly rear her true nature as an instant response, she diligently brought it out from its safekeeping.

Ah, well, if she must bring that out, then it is much to his gladness.

It has been a while since he said anything to hurt and humiliate her. Although he had been accepting of the silent agreement that had existed between them before this, he cannot deny that the opportunity of indulging in a moment to make her feel less than, or ultimately stupid, is not appealing to him. More so, because she is the one who brought it upon herself in the first place, thus taking the fault for his reaction, from him.

'Can I safely rest assured then, that I am not an ingredient for your current potion?'

'You're not, Professor,' she says all too quickly once again.

He couldn't be gladder for anything else at the moment. The backpedalling in the rush of her words, even though her seemingly even tone doesn't give that away, is what thrills him at the moment. Knowing that without giving her visual attention, he is able to make her doubt herself in the timeline of a single question, provides him with satisfaction that he hasn't truly, in entirety felt in a while since the beginning of term.

'Excellent observation, Miss Granger,' he dryly decides to say to her. 'Now return to your work.'

He feels that her shifted attitude, from defiant to rethinking her reaction, has filled him sufficiently. Not only that, he also now believes that she has been re-educated on his behaviour, and so would not dare to provoke him to such an extent again; not if she wishes to leave his office with her emotions full undamaged and intact.

'But I need to ask you something, Professor,' she insists.

While he can appreciate that she still has a testing, near tentative sound in her tone, much like she is afraid of how he will react to her statement, he will do no such thing, because apparently he wasn't thorough in re-educating her about himself. It irritates him about her, that she either chose to ignore the reminder of his unpleasant responses, or she failed to pick up that obvious cue from their prior verbally short exchange.

It irritates him so much, that before he raises his head to squint his eyes in her direction, he pulls in a long breath to concurrently bid goodbye to their agreement and collect typical Severus Snape from his resting place. He will have her know, that whatever hurtful thing he might say to her after her fixes his eyes on her, he cannot in any way be blamed for, since she is the one who poked that Severus Snape from his slumber.

'Harry's next task is three days from now,' she tells him as soon as their eyes meet.

That is a question how? He wonders this while studying her face. Never mind that she seems in a hurry to say what she needs to say before she loses heart, he is moved to think more by the fact that she claimed to have a question, but did not ask it.

'If that is what you call a question, Miss Granger, then I have been-'

'Will I be allowed to watch him?' she promptly cuts his statement short.

It is either that she knows the ending towards which his statement was heading, or she simply wishes to stick to her character, and challenge him that way. It would not be the first time for her to do such a thing as the last of the two, if that is the case. Nonetheless, without making another physical move, he quietly continues to look at her, wondering why she would ask him such a thing. What has come over her, for her to believed that he would be bothered if she went to see Potter's task? On the other hand, however, he is also curious to know how she will react if he tells her that she cannot go. She did, after all, with that single question, place the power in his hands.

'No,' he evenly responds with, and just for added emphasis, he drops his head and eyes back down to his work.

'Why not?'

Anger, that is what it's from, he notes to himself. She sounds angry, but how dare she? She placed the ball in his hands, and she now has the tenacity to ask him why he has the ball?

'As far as I know, you have a double period of free lessons three days from now,' he begins to say without lifting his eyes to her. 'You whined, Miss Granger, practically selling your soul to me, to be here.'

'That's not fair!' she cries from where she is. 'Harry needs me there.'

'Or you go there, or you come here,' he presents to her. 'The choice is most entirely yours.'

Is that really the way to break her down? She likes to parade her knowledge around, and yet, in a moment where she feels targeted to go against her friend, to let her friend down, she dissolves to a truly clueless thing? Surely, she of all the students in the school, must be aware that all the staff, and all the students are required to attend the viewing of the tasks? How can it easily slip her mind, something so valuable, that she cannot use her power of memory to save herself? What is her knowledge for then, when she clearly has a weakness, even with it?

Although, would it really be right to call devoted loyalty a weakness? Isn't he also a loyal-

'You're being totally unfair, Professor,' her voice reaches him. 'I can make up for the day that I miss. I can't miss watching Harry competing. You may not care about him, but I do, and he's my friend. I would never abandon him when he needs me.'

This display of hers, is the reason why in the beginning week when she would brew, at certain times, he would deliberately look up to see that she was not doing anything unlikely. Although devoted to the cause of being the best, her being friends with a one Potter boy, automatically made her liable to the realm of causing trouble, thus, he would check up on her. Later, after convincing himself that he was simply wasting his time by checking up on a student who anyway sought his approval, and so would never do anything unbecoming in his presence, he learned to tame his suspicions of her, until she gave him a reason not to trust her. Even so, however, he's always held the feeling that he shouldn't forget about that part of her; it would should itself sooner or later.

'He needs you,' he repeats only to mock her. 'How very much like Potter you are, Miss Granger. You have a false sense of importance, just as he does.'

'He needs me there,' she strongly maintains.

He heavily suspects that with that stoned expression on her face and the rigid stance of her body, she is indirectly telling him that she does not care one bit, what he thinks of her and Harry at the moment, because the matter remains what it is with or without his approval. He also suspects that if he is to continue testing her willpower, in connection to Potter, more specifically, he will be giving her much more of his time, than a mere baiting response for the sake of conducting an experiment, should allow between them.

'Go,' he finally says to her, making sure to sound bored about the fact.

He does that, mostly to cover up the fact that once again, because she stood her ground, challenging him, he let her get away with what she wants. If she believes him to be bored with the reality of exchanging words with her, she is most likely to do something sensible and not say anything afterwards. He's talked to for too long, and he doesn't want to keep doing it anymore.

'I'm not finished brewing yet,' she replies with a horrified look on her face.

'To your precious Potter,' he provides the clarity. 'Are you lacking comprehension compartments in your mind?'

To be fair, a regular sized part of him had meant to mislead her with his single word, for the purpose of using her response against her. He will not make it known to her, however, because she has no need to know.

'Can I come back to brew still?'

Keeping his eyes on her for only a moment longer, as though evaluating her, he then returns his attention to the work on his desk, simply ignoring her question. That, he does, because he doesn't want to say the word 'yes' to her -for the love of sacred things, he's already been out of character with her more times than he can count. He will simply let her decide her own way. If she is well equipped in understanding, then she will take his silence to mean that she may return to brewing after that one day break, and if not… Well, that still doesn't leave her free.

'Thank you so much, Professor,' she says after a small smile.

Hmpf, what does he know! Apparently the past three years have taught her something about him. She seems to at least understand that when he is not agreement with something, he clearly expresses it. She must now that his form of expression, wouldn't have to be wildly detailed, or profound in a verbal sense, it would simply need to be shown with a certain expression.

That's something about her to be glad for, he supposes. Except, on the other hand, her spewing forced gratitude his way, takes away the gladness that he felt in her knowing something, without him having to spell it out for her.

In her head, she must believe that in being polite to him, he allows her to keep coming back, but little does she know, that he doesn't even file her gratitude away within him. Her gratitude means nothing to him, when it's attached to her expecting something of compliments and acceptance from him, much less when she uses it as a tactic to secure her position in brewing potions. Independent of anything in return, purely innocent and genuine, is when he will take her gratitude and guard it within him. Not a second before then.

---

April 1995.

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She's Hermione Granger, of course, there had been a debate. If anyone were to believe that she came to her choice lightly, then they'd be correctly mistaken, because there had been a debate within herself, against herself. As any organised debate would be, there had been two sides inside her mind, although not necessarily opposing each other. From the beginning, she had known that should the one side win, the other would obviously never see the winning side, and thus, she'd been prepared for either side to win.

It was that each side had carried its own solid and well thought out arguments, even going as far as to anticipate which questions could arise from the very presentation of the arguments. She's Hermione Granger, of course, she would thoroughly prepare herself to make the more impactful of decisions, even if the chosen decision went against something that she would rather not go against. But yes, the debate had been there, and in the end, spending Easter Break at Hogwarts won over going home.

Compared to home, Hogwarts had too many disadvantages to leave behind.

It's funny really, her conclusion, seeing as most people would take the advantage of having a relaxing holiday with their parents, probably travelling to some wonderful place together as a family, instead of taking the other side of advantage, which is the disadvantaged side. Then again, when she thinks about it now, should she really consider it funny, when she's one and the same person who started a campaign to help the house elves? It was partly obvious, she thinks, that she chose to remain at Hogwarts.

The Hogwarts side won the debate, because it'd had the right disadvantages (Harry being unfairly involved in the Tournament, not spending time with her boyfriend if she went home, and lastly, Ronald – prone to being unreasonable and unpredictable as he is. All that should be enough to convince her that her choice is not at all strange for her, Hermione Granger. And anyway, even if it had been funny and strange to choose the murkier side, what's been happening since she stayed, would make it perfectly all right.

Not so much Harry and the Tournament, but spending time with Viktor, actually talking to him and finding out that he's a very sensitive and nice boy.

Mostly, discovering that Viktor has more interest than simply Dark Arts (as is they stereotypical of students from his school) and Quidditch, also him constantly trying to understand how the boys at her school never thought to ask her out as their girl, has made her stay quite worth it. It's quite a shame that she won't get to spend the holidays with her parents, seeing as they value the idea of Christianity in their home (just now open to another world of magic as well), but honestly, she wouldn't have been able to kiss her parents like she's been doing with Viktor.

Oh, giggles just thinking about it. There's been so much kissing.

They kiss a lot.

They have been kissing a lot.

Viktor's taught her much about kissing. Not by telling her how to kiss, or which other ways to do it, but by actually stopping during a kiss to test another way, or by gently rubbing his hands on her arms as they kissed. She likes the kissing the most about the Easter Break. Even that she can call it kissing inside her head, instead of referring to it as snogging, makes her feel like an adult somehow. If she's being honest, the word snogging feels to her rather like a child's way of referring to kissing, without them feeling the embarrassment that comes with a young adolescent saying actual word itself. If it's so embarrassing to say the actual word, then they shouldn't be doing it now, should they?

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26Chapters

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In her spare time, she's been doing this for the elves. She's been doing it at night as well, when her roommates are asleep, but she finds that it's better during the spare moments of time that she gets away from Viktor, Harry and Ron. To be honest, it's more a thing of pride for her, that she uses her spare time to engage in something that helps her fight to free the less advantaged magical creatures. Anyone could easily use their spare to concentrate on themselves, which is why the sacrifice of her spare time is important to her.

People still aren't taking her seriously, only accepting her flyers to keep her from pestering them, but she doesn't care. As long as she maintains her passion for the campaign to help the elves, she's fine, and she won't just abandon it. So far, she's been doing fine. She's discovered various places within the castle, where she's likely to find a congregation of elves, but the kitchen is her favourite place to find them. There's anyway a particular elf in there, who's always so kind to her; always willing to serve her even when she comes bearing the perceived abomination of clothing, where the other elves would run away from her.

---

May 1995.

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'Do you understand why chilling is important for these brews, Miss Granger?'

To an outside party, even to Miss Granger herself, his unplanned question, presented so unexpectedly, would seem like a door that he is opening, to test her on her knowledge, or the very least, attempt to educate her on something new, when really, it is only for himself, and himself alone.

The sound of his voice close to her, obviously jolts her out of her quiet concentration, making her spin her head in the direction of his voice, to confirm that he really is there. As her eyes come to rest on his just a step away from her right side, they enlarge just the slightest, and he cannot be bothered to wonder if they get that way, because his sudden presence is something that surprises her, or because she is frightened of him being so close to her. His only concern for the time being, is that she answers his question, and then he can move onwards from there.

'Uh… Professor,' she says, clearly convincing her mind that her eyes are seeing correctly before she proceeds to answer him with, 'I have an idea.'

Well of course, she has an idea. He very well suspects that she did research on potions that need to be chilled, after the first afternoon when she learned what she was to be doing in here. That being the most probable case, she probably had enough sense not to vomit her acquired knowledge into his unwilling ears.

'Keep your idea unknown to me,' he advises more than tells her. 'I will tell you why, if you move over.'

Although worth taking note of, the way she carefully shuffles her feet to the side to make space for him on her left side, he chooses to think nothing of it. As he has expertly done in the past three months and a half, not to linger on her working stance and wonder why it is that she chose to occupy her free time with brewing potions, he will also expertly deem it nothing to concern him, what is currently going on her mind about him, as she fearlessly makes room for him next to her.

Rather, he deftly starts on the remaining ingredients as he begins to explain to her the science behind chilling an incomplete potion. Including her here and there, by asking her to pass him this item, or take over the measuring spoon from him, while he reaches for something on the other side of her arm, he makes sure to speak as patiently with her, as possible. He has no doubt that she would –either way- absorb his words, whether he speeds through his explanation or not, but for the reason that all this, he is doing it for himself, he is setting it at his own pace, in a tone that is most convenient and guaranteed to get him to his goal.

The thing is, he has quite a need to distract himself wherever possible. The classes that he gives all day do well to distract him from, but it is the time in between the lessons that he has found to be quite troublesome for him. During the free lessons, his mind would easily stray to the reality of the darkening Mark on his forearm, added onto Karkaroff attempting to corner him at every opportunity that they happen to meet, and that would work his mind into an abyss of thoughts he hasn't had since years back. So instead of allowing that pattern to continue as it has been doing for the past week, he should rather occupy his time.

Today, thanks to it being the first free lesson of the week, he has a mental, verbal and physical escape, in the excuse of aiding Miss Granger in brewing. If he will continue to do this for every free lesson that they have, he has no idea of just yet, but for now, it is enough for him that he can occupy his mind, and keep it away from tangling itself into a world of thoughts that wear him down more than a weight charm ever could.

'… Muggle wineries are a small example…' he continues his explanation of the purpose of freezing some potions.

He already told her that all ingredients having active properties within them, and that as long as the ingredients are manipulated properly, the active properties continue to work as they should. He explained to her that unless they are forced to stop, by manipulation, the properties will continue to react and function as they were taught (manipulated) to do. That is how he arrived to the point of using Muggle wineries as an example, because while wine (even wizard's version of that) is easily pronounced ready to be consumed after production, the process of production has made it so that even though the manual processing has ceased, the formulas set in place to make the various ingredients react to each other, keep on in their journey until the moment of digestion. Why else does she think some wines are left to mature for so long, and in doing so, they never go stale?

He goes on to pass on to her that in freezing some potions in the beginning processes, it is essentially stopping all activity of properties, until the next stage is ready to be engaged, otherwise, if left to continue their process, the joining ingredients will be left too far behind in the process, to adequately catch up. Using the example of adding an egg to already boiled water, as opposed to placing an egg in cold water due for boiling, he makes it clear to her why once the next stage is ready, the frozen potion properties may be reactivated, and then continue to function in accordance with the other ingredients. It is quite vital for her to remember that during the freezing process, every movement of every property is stopped, until such a time as a timely intervention can be done, to prevent a catastrophic reaction from happening.

'That's more or less what I thought,' she tells him after his explanation. 'But, why did you tell me this, Professor?'

Because her question is the last thing that he could've expected from her –a challenge as to why information is given- he pauses the motions of his hands, to look at her. While looking at her, wearing only she can see which expression is on his face, he is tempted to forget that he is doing all this for his himself, and show interest in asking why she asked to start brewing potions in the first place.

But then, if he did that, would he like the answer?

Or more appropriately, would it only serve to add more strands of unease to his fidgeting soul? Upon Igor's ceaseless complaints and fears, the biased Tournament, and his own Mark, is he truly willing to add the woes of a young girl, most likely going through puberty? Magic forbid that he asks her, and she starts on about Krum being the grand subject of her heart. No, ask her, he will not do.

'I find it odd that you never asked me why you had to chill these base potions,' come out of his mouth instead of a question.

'It's only that you never allow me to speak to you,' she says, somewhat timidly, 'so I wondered why you spoke to me now.'

'It is not for generosity's sake, I assure you,' he firmly assures her.

Inadvertently, she provided him with this means of a distraction by begging him to be here, however, it would be stupid of her to start thinking that he has his opinion shifted in her favour. Worried about the darkening of his Mark he may be, but not anywhere near wishing for there to be a change in regarding each other from now on.

It looks like she wants to say something in response, something to perhaps, question him about his motive, but in the end, all she does is nod. She then waits for his to pick up with his hands again, so that they can continue with their brewing, which they do. This short unexpected interaction in no way changes his view of her, however, there is something worth taking note of; she is really dedicated to concentrating on brewing. Oddly, he could almost say that she is passionate interest in brewing, because in the absence of approval and academic marks, what else could occupy as her drive to continue as she was?

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26Chapters

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Damn it!

He can't ignore it now!

One more month has gone by, three tasks have also happened, with only the fourth and final remaining, and he still believes that he can still keep on ignoring the world connected to his deepening Mark, by distracting himself with potion brewing? Potion brewing has been insidious, it seems, covertly keeping him from preparing himself for the most probable outcome, under the guise of being a relaxing distraction.

Damn it!

He really can't ignore it now!

He can't ignore that he got relaxed, that he allowed hatred and disdain to be a part of his everyday life since Potter started school here, and that could very well be the end of him, if the Mark on his arm is anything to go by. He has the unshakable feeling that soon, and very soon, the meaning of his darkening Mark will be revealed, and if he is found undisciplined to his own faults, the end will consume him.

Damn it all, he swears once again, this third time, allowing his inner emotions to translate onto the outside, and manifest through the movements of his body. Short angry breaths leave his nostrils, one after the other, causing his chest to rise and fall as they do. The length of his fingers on either hand, roll into the palms of his hands, to form frustrated fists, as his teeth tightly come together behind his closed lips. Losing composure like this, is not like him, but he has to do it, because he's upset with himself!

He truly is.

His idiocy is astonishing, because not only has he let himself go, ever since Potter started school here, he has also failed to prepare himself properly, since the appearance of the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup. On top of all that, when he ought to have started making the necessary moves to train himself for his role –as Dumbledore had counselled him one night, not too many weeks ago- he chose to distract himself by means of brewing potions alongside a girl. And how can he not be upset with himself over that?

As it is now, who knows if… If the Dark Lord will magically appear in front of him at any moment? And if he does, how will he, Severus Snape, be able to look at the face of Tom Riddle, look into his eyes, and not express hatred which has so easily been a part of him since Potter began school at Hogwarts? He has allowed contempt and hatred to flow so easily from him, that truly, if he were put in the same room as the damned man who murdered the only source of wonderful memories that he has known in his life, he wouldn't wager on his ability to keep his emotions hidden. Not as he is at the moment, no.

And damn Potter as well, while he is at the point of damning everything! That boy, just as his father before him, has been a grainy stone underneath his skin! Were it not for him-

'Professor?'

Surprised and confused all at once, he sharply turns his whole body, from his head to his feet, towards the door. His hair belatedly catches up with the movement of his body, coming to hit both sides of his face, and contributing to his sudden agitation, that he slightly jumps on the spot. When he realises that it's only Miss Granger, anger replaces agitation, firstly for the fact that he doesn't know how long she has been observing him from the door, and secondly, for the fact that she has on a worried expression.

His anger, mostly fuelled by the feelings of confusion and surprise that he quickly discarded for the short, sickly thrill of agitation, drives him in long strides to the door, and before he knows exactly what it is that he is doing, he has roughly dragged her into the room, held her in place with his free arm, and closed and locked his office. By the time that he realises what he has done, he also realises that he can't undo what he's done, and should rather carry on in the spirit of anger, to interrogate her. Instead of accepting his slip-up, he will simply continue as though it had been his plan to do this all along.

Telling himself that, he swiftly rounds to be in front of her, invading her personal space, just as she invaded his personal time. Only she knows how far back she's seen into his private and sensitive moment.

'Why didn't you knock?' he demands to know.

'I did, Professor,' she answers, sounding afraid even to do so. 'You didn't seem to hear me, that's why I called you.'

Never once in his life, did he think that he could ever feel sorry for someone like her, someone so ready to show off what they know and have, leaving nothing for the others to showcase, but apparently, he thought wrong. He is looking at her now, seeing her eyes blink more than they should, noticing how much her head is pulled back from his proximity, and feeling the tight clenching of the muscles of her arm under his hold, and all he can think is that he frightened her.

He frightened Hermione Granger. That makes him feel... Wrong. Wrong, because that hadn't been his intention.

Had it been his intention to make her react a certain way, he wouldn't have a problem with her feeling frightened by his attack. It hadn't been his intention, however, and that is why he feels wrong, if he can use that word. Really, he would not normally care about causing a fright in a student, and yet, something from his own not dealt with emotions, and the extraordinarily frightening path that Dumbledore has advised him to set on, (that's if the worst should come to be) makes him feel a much uncharacteristic touch of sympathy for the girl. He attributes it to the fact that he too, is frightened of what could be his reality in the future, that he can feel something as compassion for the girl's current fright. For that reason, he oddly feels compelled to apologise to her, and so he carefully releases her, and then steps away from the personal space. That is the best of an apology that he could ever give her.

'I will no longer supervise your brewing,' he finally says in a restored tone, only to cover up what had just happened between them.

He also needs to get the conversation going along between, so that it can be over with as soon as possible without the aid of magic, but more importantly, he needs to distract her from what just happened between them and his apology.

'Did I do something wrong?' she hastily wants to know, her expression changed from fright to panic.

What a wonder. Not necessarily a good wonder, but a wonder all the same.

She must always be expecting him to throw her out, it appears. It's a good thing, though, he reasons, because it means that she will never attempt something as foolish as to sabotage his potions. This being the case with her, it then means... Dear magic, no, he can't think this way, but... Especially in this moment, his discomposed moment, he hates to even consider the thought... Except, ugh, damn it! He believes that he can trust her to brew the potions that he might have to take in the future. He doesn't trust her, but with potions, he could not trust anyone better.

'Settle yourself,' he says to her. 'I simply have a new engagement, which does nothing to concern you in the least.'

For his own discipline, he will have to use the free periods with Miss Granger. Evil knows that should Riddle rise again, (because he is sure that there are at least three methods that ensure life extension -he has yet to discover texts on Dark Arts that keep someone invincible), he might need an array of potions to keep him steady and focused. In the unlikely event that he cannot discipline himself in time, he should need a potion (and several others) to help him along in that way. Essentially, by using his free lessons to isolate himself, he will be benefitting in three ways; firstly keeping Miss Granger as a lookout in his office, while he is concealed away, secondly working on disciplining himself, and lastly, having potions of enchantments made for him.

'You will in any case not be brewing base potions anymore,' he continues to make it a little more clear for her. 'I will present you with a new list of what to brew in my absence.'

Sombrely -surprisingly too, by how instantly she falls in line with him-, she nods to say that she understands. After nodding, she gathers herself high, probably restoring her own composure that way, and begins to walk past him, to the place where she normally works. It hits him in the stomach, her action, because… When did that happen? When did she grow comfortable with him? All they did in the last months, was brew together in nearly complete silence, separated from each other by distance, but now she is apparently comfortable with him?

What has he done to inspire that in her? Or is he reaching, perhaps?

Is the term 'comfortable' a reaching stretch, so very far from what it really is with her, when she has only really moved on from feeling frightened by him, to wanting to be away from him as soon as possible? Surely he is being ridiculous. Surely the threat of Riddle becoming a reality is playing with his emotions, putting them at an unbalance. There is no manner in which Miss Granger would ever feel comfortable enough around him, to think that she could remove her complete attention from him when she pleased, without his permission. There in no manner either, in which he would have inspired a relationship of comfortably working around one another, for her benefit. So then, could it be, that is growing a immune to him, little by little?

Oh, he hopes to dear magic, not.

---

26Chapters

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Deep breath in first...

Now let it out...

Take in another slightly small breath…

And now let it out…

It won't hurt to cross your forefinger over your middle finger either, Hermione. For this, at least just use that Muggle portion of yourself that you put aside whenever you are at Hogwarts, and believe in such a thing as luck, determined by the silly acts of tightly holding eyes closed and crossing fingers. You'll need to believe in luck, because what you are about to do, is take an extremely liberal chance. The very likely outcome of you taking this chance, is that he will tell you (for good measure) to never return to him after this, but, you should at least hope for luck that he does it in a dismissive, not humiliating way.

Now all right, Hermione, take a final step forward and speak before you lose your nerve.

'Professor Snape?' she tentatively calls.

She had been ready to carry on with the pressing question following the testing call of her name, however, the professor surprises her quite the bit, when he promptly looks up at her. Feeling caught off guard and showered in stunning surprise, her plan to ask him disappears from her mind, leaving that space momentarily empty, while his dark eyes quietly study her, probably wondering what question could possibly the reason for her staying behind after class.

In no way can she own the claim that she knows Professor Snape well, because she truly doesn't, it's only that since spending her most of her free periods brewing with and for him, she can somewhat gauge the meaning of that reaction from him. Like she previously thought, the worst could be him refusing to hear her out, although on the other hand, he could also shatter her expectation of him by doing something that she believes he is not capable of doing.

'Miss Granger,' he finally releases from his mouth, 'whatever questions you have, you should have asked them during the lesson. I will not be answering any question that you have to ask.'

'No, Professor, it's not like that,' she hurriedly shakes her head. 'I only want to ask if I may be excused from tomorrow's free period.'

Making the corners of his eyes slant just the smallest bit, he sets the heaviest stare on her, that she has ever experienced from him so far, and that is including all the times during their private brewing times, where he simply refused to answer her with words, because apparently his eyes were more communicative than his words. His heavy makes her all the more nervous, and so she chooses to explain herself to him.

'I wouldn't ask if it wasn't completely necessary. Please, Professor.'

For just a moment more, in silence still, he continues to consider her, not giving any of his thoughts away through the expression on his face. After that moment passes, however, as though her words mean nothing to him, he drops his head back down to his work, at t the same time also making a waving and flowing gesture with his hand in her direction.

'Profes-' she curiously starts to ask what he means, only to quickly retain herself.

Think, Hermione, she mentally scolds herself. He wasn't rude to you, and the worst that you had been fearing has not happened yet, which means that you still have that miraculous grace of being somewhat welcomed during brewing, so do not spoil this. Take his dismissal as permission to be absent, and don't think more about it.

You normally would not be as bold as to make the mistake of assuming to grasp his meaning, you know that, but you know that today is a different case. You know that you need to have free time tomorrow, so just take what you are being offered and run out of here before he changes his mind.

'Thank you, Professor,' pushes out of her mouth as she uncrosses her fingers. 'I will see you next week.'

Following the rushed words from her mouth, not necessarily interested to hang around and wait for him to make a weak yet dismissive snoring sound, she happily runs out of his classroom, to catch up with Harry and Ron. Also, in the event that he changes her mind, as he has played to do in the previous times that she has asked something of him, she cannot afford to dally around him. As she catches up with her friends, she squeezes herself between them and then loosely wraps her arms over both of their shoulders. Of her two friends, Ron is the first one to study her from his angle of sight.

'You're smiling,' Ron observes.

The interesting thing about his observation, is that it is reaches her ears with a note of distaste. within his tone. She would ordinarily give him an equally distasteful look, to contend with him, but for the moment, she is too glad to allow him to get under her skin. Well, too much under her skin, she means.

'I am,' she agrees. 'That's not a problem.'

'It's just not the reaction I would expect from someone coming from speaking to Snape,' Ron explains.

She has the suspicion that he is eyeing her suspiciously, and mostly because of that, she removes her arms from around their shoulders. Really, with Ron's behaviour, the air surrounding her is starting to become heavy, and since she doesn't want his negativity seeping into her skin through the contact that she's making with him.

'Well,' she starts, 'he just said yes to something that I asked him, so how can I not be smiling about that?'

Very tactfully, she's avoiding to say what she asked of Professor Snape, because easily, that would make her friends question her on why she needs to be excused from the brewing period in the first place, and no way is she willing to get into why she needs that free lesson for herself. She is allowed to have her privacy, she believes.

'Snape seems to say yes to you all the time now,' Harry curiously comments for the first time since she caught up with them. 'I wonder why?'

Thankful though she is of Harry speaking and from being questioned about what's so important that she had to ask Professor Snape, she still frowns and clicks her tongue at his accusation specifically. Really, there Harry goes with his suspicion of Professor Snape again.

'You two honestly need to stop with that,' she reprimands them. 'I already told you that he hardly speaks to me during our lessons. It's been months, so he can't have an agenda if he doesn't talk to me.'

'You're way too trusting, Hermione,' Harry argues. 'He can still be planning something even if he doesn't talk to you. Think about it, Hermione. All you do is brew potions for him. You said that sometimes he helps you, and sometimes he leaves you by yourself. Doesn't that seem all strange to you? Snape's exactly the trusting sort, you know.'

'As a matter of fact, Harry-' she begins, about to make the attempt to convince him that Professor Snape wouldn't try anything strange with her, because he doesn't trust her, but Harry cuts her off before she can get to that.

'Anyway,' he quickly interrupts, 'are you coming with us to Hogsmeade on Saturday? You know, since Snape won't be keeping you?'

'We don't brew on Saturdays,' she reminds him. 'You know that.'

'You never know. With Snape, anything is possible,' Ron mutters darkly.

'Well, he's not making me stay, is he?' she quickly fires at Ron, just as quickly shutting up any door of opportunity that he could have to go back and forth with her, by moving back into the Hogmeade topic. 'Anyway, I do want to come to Hogsmeade, but…'

'You have to come with us,' Harry pleads with her, even stilling his steps, in turn making her and Ron stop with him.

'It's not that easy, Harry. I... There's…' she pauses, mostly to find the right words to appease the situation.

'There's what?' Ron curiously wants to know. 'I thought you just said that Snape said yes to you. There's nothing stopping you, so let's go. It's the last weekend before Harry's last task anyway.'

For his information, Hermione thinks as she fixes a stern look at Ron, Professor Snape allowing her the free lesson tomorrow, has nothing to do with Hogsmeade on Saturday. What he, Ronald, doesn't know, is that those are two completely separate things, and if he truly has any real interest to know, she would easily tell him that Professor Snape isn't the reason that she will, or will not be going with them to Hogsmeade.

'I said I want to, Ron,' she stresses after the silent moment. 'It's not that I don't want to. I just don't know if I will be able to come. There's just something that I have to do first.'

'I swear, Hermione,' Ron audibly expresses his disbelief, shaking his head about it as well, 'you and your books…'

Her books? He's incorrect, as usual, but well, if that's what he's choosing to believe about her refusal to confirm her Hogsmeade attendance with them, then this one time, gladly, she will not correct him. It's simply easier, and hugely convenient, not to.

---

26Chapters

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In the late morning hours of Saturday, along will all the students who are allowed to go down into the village that their school is situated next to, Hermione finds herself in Hogsmeade. Happily so, in fact, because she had been afraid that her talk with Viktor yesterday, would leave her in a bad state of being, and thus, she would not be open to going out with her friends the next day. Her fears had been for nothing, obviously, she's affirmed of that now that she's sitting here and laughing with her friends.

She had particularly asked Professor Snape for that free period yesterday, because the emotional part of her that had been included in her relationship with Viktor, knew that she needed to take time to explain her reasoning to him, and that she couldn't just attempt to break up with him through a piece of parchment delivered by an owl. It wasn't just an idea that came to her out of the blue, to break up with him. It was rather something that had been building up in little pieces along with time, and once her logic formed a sort of fully formed image of all that had been accumulating over the time, she made the choice to end things with Viktor.

Luckily, Viktor had silently taken her words in when she gently explained to him why she believed that it was better for their relationship to come to an end. And when he had his time to talk, he more or less, not so much detail as she had listed for him when she explained, agreed with all that she said. All that she said about them going to separated by space soon, and then him leaving school soon to a real professional career, was resounded by him in a way. He had then given her a small kiss on the cheek, telling her that he would like it very much if she wrote to him after he left, to which she agreed, and thus, they parted on good terms. Good terms involving a tender kiss on the cheek from Viktor, as a way to end a relationship, and enter into a friendship with.

Anyway, she's glad that things worked out well for her and Viktor yesterday, because that means that today in Hogsmeade, she can make as many good memories as she wants. She can celebrate Harry's success with the tasks so far, and then focus on making good and fun memories for Harry as well, in the event that he loses the Tournament. She's going to make the most of this weekend, mostly to make up for the anxiety that has been overwhelming her since the Tournament began. Although the brewing helped her in easing some of the anxiety out of her system, this weekend is the release that she should be indulging in. she will make the most that she can make out of it.

---

June 1995.

---

After that weekend with Harry and Ron in Hogsmeade, in a way, time seemed to fly by and drag on at the same time. Truly, only the morphing that took place between the happy Hogsmeade memories, memories of Harry laughing with his mouth wide open, enjoying the company of his two best friends, while she and Ron encouraged him to laugh all the more, to Harry crying his pain out as he emerged clutching Cedric's body to his chest, as though hoping that some of his life would leech into the lifeless body of the prefect, was the only instant thing that happened. Everything else from there onwards, seemed to come and go in waves, time standing still and then crawling forwards, and then taking a big leap...

She's been doing her best to be there for Harry, even putting her S.P.E.W project on hold so that she could devote herself to make certain that Harry didn't have the time alone to blame himself for Cedric's death, or for not realising that junior Barty Crouch had been posing as Mad-Eye. It is just as well that for the four days, lessons have been put on hold, only to resume tomorrow, because she doesn't know how she would've been able to initially support Harry between worrying about school work. She knows that she would've managed somehow, rotating both in her schedule, of that she is sure, but she is highly thankful that Professor Dumbledore had the good sense to postpone lessons until tomorrow, Friday.

Speaking of Professor Dumbledore...

She should've expressed her gratitude to when they walked past each other in a different corridor as she was walking here, to see Professor Snape. Having lost a student under his care, to death, no less, she imagines that it would have been something of a welcoming difference to have someone thanking him, instead of asking him questions, or worse, him doing what Harry has been trying to do to himself all of these past four days. Since she missed her chance to thank the Headmaster, she'll make a mental note to thank him the next time that she sees him, because right now, she her journey has come to an end, and she has to give her attention to telling Professor Snape to cancel her brewing with him.

Feeling all the way prepared and stepping into the open space of the door, she draws herself up to full height in preparation of speaking to him in the quickest amount of time. Her hand moves to make a knocking sound on the door, even though it's already open, but then her eyes catch sight of the immediate vision of Professor Snape sitting at his desk with his head slightly bent down, and two of his fingers messaging his right temple, and her brain just stops for a moment. As a result, her breath suddenly gets stuck in her throat, and just as suddenly as she holds her breath, her mind comes back to life, only to fill her body with the message that she's starting to feel fear.

Leave! Her rational side speaks to her.

But... I can't just leave him. Cedric died, and no one has been the same since, her emotional side tries to reason with her logic.

Hermione, her logic silently screams, you should leave now. Harry said it, Professor Snape is not a trusting person, and since he is not that, he is obviously private and guarded, which can only mean that he will not appreciate to look up at find out that you caught him in a vulnerable moment.

But, her emotions try to counter her own logic, what if you're interpreting this incorrectly, and he's simply feeling a headache? What if this is not a vulnerable moment?

Think, Hermione, the rational part reasons, even sickness is a vulnerable thing. No one ever wants to admit being overtaken by weakness when they are sick. Besides, this is Professor Snape. You need to remember that! That should be enough of a reason for you to leave, so leave! Why else do you think you're feeling afraid even without him knowing about you being here?

Her mind is right, she decides.

Clearly, she's intruding on and looking at a vulnerable version of the teacher, and because she has never seen that side of him before, she's feeling fear. Never in her life, would she have imagined that she would ever be in the position where she catches Professor Snape giving off the picture of being… Well, concerned, if she may, and thus, she's feeling unsettled within. It's that in a single moment, Professor Snape is completely humanised to her now. Of course, she's always known that he's human, one very capable of human emotions, especially the negative ones, however, vulnerability is a different sort of humanisation that other emotions haven't seemed to do for him. Evidently, as she is clearly seeing, even Professor Snape feels worry, and ultimately, what that really means, is that-

Just like that, her line of thought is abruptly cut off, when he, Professor Snape, without an indication beforehand, lifts his head and looks up her way. His eyes recognise her at once, causing rapid fire to cover over them in a flash, which makes her clumsily gasp and then fearfully squeal his title out of her mouth.

'Professor!'

One, she expects him to roar with resounding fury, for her to get out and never return. And two, she's readily expecting him to hex with abandon. It will definitely be one of the two, according to his eyes. She begins to count the small seconds before she meets her explosion from her, but he does neither.

Instead, he turns his eyes away from her, asking, 'What is it this time, Miss Granger?'

He sounds tired, she notes, and a little like he expects her to ask him another favour. What stands out for her the most about his question, though, is that there's something about his demeanour that says to her that no matter what it is that she will ask of him, he will have no choice but to give it to her. It's as though he is going through a time in his life where everything to him is taken with a, 'I might as well agree, since I'm doing everything else,' attitude. That assumption of hers can't be true, though, can it? He can't really not mind accepting what she wants, can he?

'I'm waiting, Miss Granger,' he says to her, not necessarily sounding impatient, and not patient either.

'I just...' she stammers, looking for the words that she needs to cancel her lesson and then leave.

That had been her plan all along, so she should rather just get it over with as soon as possible, shouldn't she? The fact that she's being exposed to a different side of her teacher, and her compassionate side wants to do what it has been doing for Harry all these days, and that is comfort, should not make her change her mind, should it?

'What do you want from me, Miss Granger? Speak!'

'I don't want anything,' she cries, feeling offended that he would accuse her like that.

The only reason that she hasn't said anything to him yet, is because she is struggling with herself on which option to choose. She doesn't want to behave like nothing is wrong with him, and then chuck it in his face that she doesn't want to continue brewing with him anymore. That would be too heartless, and though he can be cruel most of the time, she's had far too much of emotionally heavy days to want to inflict even a little bit of emotional discomfort onto someone else.

'If you do not want anything, then leave,' he tells her quite firmly.

Funny enough, his command for her to leave, pushes her to walk into his office. All this time, she's been standing at the door, until he just now told her to leave. She cannot produce an exact reason as to why she is doing the opposite of what he asked her, she only knows that with each step that she is making, she is making the decision to speak to him, and show him that she has her own vulnerabilities too. If that will make him feel a little bit better, she wants to try it.

'Everything is going to change now, isn't it, Professor?' she ends up asking him once she is only separated from him by a desk. 'Cedric... Cedric is the first of... It's going to return to how it was before Harry was born, isn't it?'

While he does look at her then, he makes no expression, either to confirm her words, or deny her claim. She has no experience of what happened in the wizarding world during the Voldemort years, but what she has read and heard is enough to make her feel afraid of what will happen next, now that he has come back to life.

'I'm a little afraid of what lies ahead, Professor. I'm more worried about Harry, but…' she pauses, to nervously let out a small laugh. 'At the same time, I'm also counting on Harry.'

Professor Snape only continues to look at her, the only change being that the fire in his eyes from before, has dimmed down to something lifeless. He seems to be evaluating her words, and then, when it seems that he is finished with his evaluation, he pushes out his chair and gets up from it. He doesn't make the move to separate himself from the desk just yet, though, and partly due to that and his silence, she takes that as approval for her to go on speaking.

'It's rather a big burden for a young boy to be counted on by everyone,' she nervously confesses. 'I'm his friend, and I shouldn't expect it of him, what everyone else expects of him. I should rather just be there for him, and support him, but I would be naïve to think that he won't be involved in whatever Voldemort has planned next.'

Going on what Harry told them happened in the graveyard, and then backed up by all of the messes that the three of them have been involved in since their first years, there couldn't be more proof than that about Voldemort's plans involving Harry.

'I worry about Harry too, Professor,' she tells him as he begins to step around his desk. 'Harry's very impulsive. He's also so angry about Cedric's death, and I am worried that he could get himself into so much trouble over the summer, and then he won't be there to fight Voldemort when the time comes. If Harry dies, we'll all be in danger.'

At her last sentence, Professor Snape being next to her, snorts at her. Confused, she looks at him, beginning to wonder why he made that unwarranted reaction.

'Has it ever occurred to you, Miss Granger?' he quietly hisses to her, apparently responding to her silent wonder. 'That your beloved hero, Potter, is not everything that will defeat the Dark Lord?'

Firstly, no, that tone, she doesn't appreciate. At all. And secondly, that is not what she meant. She knows that Harry on his own, will not defeat Voldemort, but that doesn't change the fact that he will be very important in the resistance, if there is to be one.

'I know that, Professor,' she answers him shortly. 'That's not what I meant.'

'Really?' he looks at her with some touch of disgust. 'Then what was all that flowery display of emotion towards him, the boy who is meant to defeat the Dark Lord? Must you praise him so?'

'I wasn't-'

Effectively cutting her off, he steps into her personal space, and then speaks in the same tone of a hiss, saying, 'He's a mere boy, Miss Granger! An incompetent wizard, at that, and yet you stand before me, praising him on a victory that he hasn't yet had?'

He's annoyed, she realises. Or more than annoyed, she corrects herself after seeing a new fire spring into his eyes. Well, she's annoyed now as well, and she doesn't want to stand here and argue with him. Not only is she annoyed with him for changing so quickly and disregarding her feelings to accuse her of being a Harry worshipper, she's also upset with herself for allowing herself to fall into the trap of believing that Snape in his vulnerable state, could relate to her, if only for this one thing and this one time.

You're so stupid, Hermione, she scolds herself.

She allowed her want to comfort him to mist over her knowledge of him, and now he's properly starting to make her angry. He's obviously an opportunistic and calculating man, who looks and watches, while waiting for the perfect opportunity to break people down. He did it just now with her. He silently allowed her to get deep into her feelings with him, stupidly displaying herself to him, only so that he could strike her down in the most barbaric of ways.

Her eyes pin right onto his, and she hopes to dear life that she has some level of flames burning in them, for him to see that he has completely ruined her from how she was.

She would have preferred it if he had shut her down from the beginning, instead of letting her get into it this way, because she will not put up with this. Deciding that, she starts to turn her back on him and storm off out of his presence, but he swiftly takes hold of her arm, that way stopping her from getting away. Although he doesn't use his hold on her to pull her back to him, he does use their contact to his advantage, so that he has stable support to go around her and then stand in front of her. Only once in front of her and their eyes are on each other's once again, does he let go of her arm.

'Know this very well, Miss Granger,' he coldly starts, slightly looming over her. 'There are many wizards and witches, who will, from this day onwards, on a daily basis, risk their lives for the cause of defeating the Dark Lord, and yet you put all the praise on your precious Potter?'

'I care about Harry,' she heavily breathes out, feeling the extreme need to defend her 'precious Potter'. 'I didn't see other witches and wizards helping when the Philosopher Stone was stolen. Or when the Chamber Of Secrets was opened. Where were they then?'

She's a little out of line to ask that accusing question, because she knows that there had been some teachers at Hogwarts, plus Hagrid, who did what they could when it was possible for them to during those years, but she's mostly losing her patience with Professor Snape for trying to make Harry unimportant in the Voldemort issue. And for baiting her, obviously, so it's only fair that she attacks him too.

Though only his silence answers her, she feels like the thing that he is starting to do with his sleeve, is supposed to mean something, so she watches him do it. She watches him begin to unbutton the buttons of his sleeve up to where they end. Once that is completed, he roughly pushes the black and white materials of cloth covering his forearm, up to his elbow. Her eyes are then immediately drawn to the much-lighter-than-the-black-robes tone of his skin just for a moment, before they are pulled over to a piece of black art upon his skin.

All at once, flashes of the mayhem and chaos from the Quidditch World Cup quickly appear in her mind, while her heart starts to race at the fastest that it has ever done. All for seeing the smaller replica of the mark that had scattered people at the sports event, she feels the most trapped in time. Screams from the World Cup, frantic searching for Harry, remembering the destruction of people's tents and agony cries, made of nightmare images...

'You have not an idea, Miss Granger,' his voice roughly breaks through the flashing images in her mind.

It's like he is taunting her, nearly. It may just be the roughness of his voice, making her feel more trapped in, but she knows that him shoving his mark closer to her eyes, does nothing to help her state. Between crying out, spewing all of her fear and actually shedding tears at the hopelessness that she feels, she cannot make a decision. What she can make a decision of, is that she doesn't want to keep seeing that hideous thing, which is why to relieve her eyes of that hideous mark, she hotly turns her eyes to him.

How she wishes that she could just punch him in the face, and get him away from her!

How dare he!

What in the hell is she supposed to do have an idea of? And what is she supposed to do with that thing that he is showing her? Why is he showing it to her, anyway? She doesn't know what insanity is fogging his mind at the moment, but she's not the one who told him to take the mark on his skin. Whatever decision he made, he did that all on his own, and it's not fair for him to accuse her of not having an idea. As far she is concerned, she's not required for her to have any idea.

'You have not an idea,' he repeats, wildly looking into her eyes as if she made some unwanted crack in his world.

Whether she made a fracture or not, and she doesn't see where she could have caused the unbalance, she's still angrily horrified, disgusted even. And especially since he seems to insist on making her feel bad for his own stupid decisions, she angrily slaps his arm out of the way, following it with physically pushing him out of her way with both of her hands and all of her angry disgust, before running out and away from him.

---

26Chapters

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'Miss Granger?

Visibly jumping, out of her body nearly, she looks in the direction of the voice. Mostly because Snape's voice is distinct, she should have known to differentiate it from Professor McGonagall's, but her disturbed mind didn't know how to not be afraid of the first person to call her name while hiding away like this in the corridor. She should kick herself for her reaction, really, she thinks as she recognises her Head of House.

'Professor?' she partly squeaks, sounding a little too much like Neville answering Snape.

Looking confused, her teacher asks, 'You're not at the Feast?'

Quietly, she shakes her head for a reply. Professor McGonagall must excuse her, but the Leaving Feast is the very last thing that she wants to attend. If she wanted to be attending that Feast, she would definitely not be lurking around a deserted corridor, hoping to avoid anyone who might have the sense to look for her and find her in her own common room.

'It's due to start soon,' the professor reminds her. 'I'm heading there in a while myself.'

'I really don't feel like going, Professor,' she tries to explain through a planted brave face.

What she feels like doing, is being in her own bedroom in her parents' home, and far away from Hogwarts and especially Snape. Her professor looks at her, very carefully for a moment, probably looking for something, and then seems to make up her mind.

'All right,' McGonagall accepts. 'If you will come with me, then. You can assist me with something in the staff room.'

Staff room?

Um, that's the place where teachers meet. The place where any teacher is likely to be, if they aren't teaching a class or out somewhere. The very thought of the staff makes her feel Stupefied.

'Staff room, Professor?'

'Yes, staff room. Come along, Miss Granger.'

But... She doesn't want to run into Snape in there.

McGonagall can't just begin to lead the way to the staff room without considering that Snape's bound to be in there. It's not fair, Hermione throws her head back in regret for having the worst of luck today. Why couldn't she just have gone to the common room again?

She's being stupid thinking that, really. Having run to the common right after Snape, would have been one of the more stupid choices that she's made this year. In the common room, both Harry and Ron, even Ginny would have pestered her to go with them to the Feast. Or if not that, in her rattled state, she might just have blurted out that he has a Mark exactly the one from the World Cup, on his left forearm. Blurting it out would have not have done, for one, because she doesn't know if anyone else knows about his Mark, and for another, she doesn't know what it means that he showed it to her. She only knows that she didn't like it one bit.

By now, she should have been over it. In fact, she should have been surrounded by her friends, maybe not laughing as they always do at the time of the Leaving Feast, but with her friends still. Instead, due to her need to hide herself away from the world, she's following her teacher closely, being led to a place where Snape might just be.

Wonderful going, Hermione.

'Here we are,' her professor announces upon reaching a large set of doors. 'The staff room.'

From the corner of her eyes, she vaguely sees McGonagall's face turn to her, but she is far too worried about what might be waiting on the other side of those doors, to give importance to anything, not even the passage in which the staff room is hidden. She's only interested in praying to everything that has ears that Snape is nowhere inside.

'Come,' the invitation comes just as the big doors open to receive them.

Aaah, she doesn't want to. It's... She doesn't want to. What if Peeves came from nowhere and made her run after him for some reason? She should look around for Peeves, just to see if she'll find him with her eyes, and then maybe silently coax him into coming over here and causing trouble.

She finds no trace of a ghost when she looks around, which forces her to reluctantly accept the invitation to enter the staff room. But, that Snape man! At another time, entering the staff room for the first time would've been an event to remember, not a terror for her, that she'd been creeping in as she is now.

'Don't be afraid,' her teacher tells her. 'There's no one else in here. They are all getting ready for the Feast.'

Oh, good, she silently sighs, very thankful for that and verbally adding a quick, 'I'm not afraid, Professor.'

It's not a lie. Not really. Generally, she's not afraid, not of the staff room, no. She's only afraid that Snape will appear in there, which is not equal to being afraid. Everything that's to do with Snape, she is not naming, because naming it would mean confederating with herself on what it means for her.

'Most students have been when entering the staff room for the first time,' the professor explains with a hint of a laugh in her voice. 'It's a rather disconcerting place to find yourself in at first; a room full of your teachers, all of them looking at you at the same time. You'd rather feel like a spectacle, wouldn't you?'

Hmm, maybe. It may be true. She doesn't know about that. Or rather, she doesn't care about that at the moment. Her main concern is that just as long as Snape stays away from the staff room.

'I suppose,' she answers.

'Anyhow,' her teacher opens her hand and an envelope magically appears within it, 'I would like for you to deliver this sealed envelope to Madam Hooch. As you can see,' her free hand gestures to a table in the middle of the room, 'I have a lot to put away, and I am afraid that I might not catch up with her in time. She won't be making it to the Feast either.'

Hearing that, momentarily forgetting all about Snape, Hermione looks at her teacher. That's odd, she thinks. As accomplished a witch as McGonagall is, her fear had been that she wouldn't have caught up with Madam Hooch? There are owls for that, an owl would have caught up with Madam Hooch. Even if not an owl, there must be other communication methods where she could have asked her colleague to see her before she left.

'She's travelling with her sister, so she is quite in a hurry to leave Hogwarts tonight.'

All right, but still, there could have been another way to get the envelope to Madam Hooch. It's not that she's complaining, of course, she's just now thinking of how easily her entrance in the staff room could have been avoided. Just think, if Snape had been in here, her heart would have jumped out, all thanks to a reason that's not all the way valid enough to have her in the staff room. Nonetheless, this is Professor McGonagall, she's brilliantly clever, and must have her reason for inviting her in here. Whatever that reason is, whether big or small, she will do well to just accept that she's been introduced to the staff room, if nothing else positive tonight.

'I'll take it to her, Professor,' she says, holding out her hand to receive the envelope.

'Thank you, Hermione,' her teacher smiles at her. 'I appreciate it.'

Nodding, she dismisses the gratitude, 'It's nothing, Professor,' feeling a little shy all of a sudden.

She normally has no problem accepting compliments from her teachers, but this feels a little different. It may just be that McGonagall used her first name as opposed to her surname, but it's just different. She wonders why.

---

July 1995.

---

As a reunited family, they had not been able to have a real dinner the previous night when they arrived home. They had made talk in the car on the drive back home from the train station, but as soon as they got inside the house, Hermione excusedherself to her room, saying that she preferred to rest instead of anything else that night. Ever so understanding where she was concerned, her parents allowed her the space to be as she chose last night.

And then for this morning's breakfast, she couldn't join her parents either, because she wanted to stay in bed and just think. Mostly, she carefully avoided thinking about Snape and what he did, but he tended to come up in her thoughts when she thought of Voldemort's supporters. Whenever that happened, she derailed her thoughts from the man, and looked for another thought to focus on. Things like the new state that the world is going to be in after the resurrection of Voldemort, and she wondered if she knew enough magic to protect her parents and herself, and just... Snape.

He'd suddenly sprung into her mind, forcing himself in a place where he had no belonging, a place where only her family was concerned, and th next thing that she knew, she was thinking:

He dared show her that horrid thing?

Was that the best way that he could think of, to guarantee her absolute fear where he was concerned?

It was thoughtless of him, that foul man, and he had no right!

He-

Ugh! What was she doing? She caught herself just in time. Before she got too far into what happened, and the rest of her holiday was spent mentally analysing the purpose for his-

No. She's having dinner with her parents now, she can't be thinking of anything that is not being here, active and present with her parents. She needs to listen. She needs to pay attention and invest herself in being with her parents for this time. It'll only be a matter of time before Harry and Ron start writing her, asking her to spend the last portion of the summer with them. And then Viktor... They broke up, but they still promised to keep in contact. The point of the matter is that she needs to be here, not elsewhere in her thoughts.

'Are we going on holiday?' she asks, whether or not its related to what her arents had been discussing.

First looking at her, and then at her husband, her mother says, 'Yes. Dad and I were thinking that we could visit Australia this summer. We think it would be lovely.'

'We could rent a beach house,' her father contributes, which opens a door for her to verbally walk through.

'Australia is nice,' she cheerfully begins to tell them. 'I've read about it. There are...'

Effortlessly, she continues to tell them about what she read on Australia some years back, because her parents don't mind when she shares any information with them. If anything, they are just like her in wanting to know as much about something as is possible to know. She supposes that is why it's always so important for them to discuss magic and that world with her. Another reason for her getting lost in talking about Australia, is the distraction that it provides to her thoughts. She can't very well keep Snape and Australia equally in her head, can she? Maybe later, when she's having a 'girl' talk with her mum, just catching up on things, she'll have more of an opportunity to fit Snape somewhere into her thoughts, but for now, she's thankfully spared from it.

---

26Chapters

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She's beginning to wonder if it wouldn't have been better to wait until Grimmauld Place, to come to Diagon Alley. You know, to come with Harry and Ronald's entire family... Or better yet, she should've bought her school things in Australia – she should've searched for a wizarding community there. Really, it's just... If she'd waited to come with her friends, she would've had a better distraction than she does with her parents. Honestly, this is the fifth time that she's mentally telling herself to pull herself together, and that it's highly unlikely that Snape will all of a sudden pop up from the air in Diagon Alley.

She's being ridiculous, of course, thinking of Snape in a comparative line to one of Fred and George's jokes, when he's far from being a joke. And, she's being ridiculous again, thinking of Snape when she hasn't done that at all since she left Hogwarts.

But then, thinking about it, she reasons with herself, it's not so ridiculous to have Snape in her thoughts back here in the wizarding world. In the world of witches and wizards, Professor Severus Snape is very much a possible reality, and the thought of seeing him, makes her feel anxious. So anxious that she can't help looking around every other second.

'What are you looking for, Hermione?' her mother asks by tapping her on the shoulder. 'Didn't we get everything on the list?'

Avoiding to fully turn around and face her mother behind her, she answers that, ''We have everything.'

'Then why do you keep looking around?'

Oh, that? No big reason really.

'I just thought that I'd see someone from school,' she tells her mother, still not looking at her.

Someone by the name of Snape. That part she leaves out, because then she'd have to explain to her parents why she's afraid of Snape, when she's only ever been stuck between being frustrated with him and hoping to gain his commendation. She'd have to at least tell her parents that she's not in the least dealt with how she really feels about him showing her the Dark Mark, and so, there's still fear surround the very idea of Snape being inside her mind, and anywhere in the physical vicinity.

'Perhaps if we go over to the ice-cream place,' her father suggests, coming to stand beside her and placing a loving hand on her shoulder. 'Some of your schoolmates there might be there.'

Only because her father is beside her, she looks at him.

'No!' she hastily chokes out.

Her father doesn't understand; she can't go around Diagon Alley like she's fearless. The more time and shops that she visits here, the more that she is at risk of running into him, and then she'll be forced to cry. Honestly, with the anxiety that she feels, she doesn't believe herself resistant to tears if Snape suddenly appears.

'No?' her mother worriedly asks. 'Are you sure?'

'Uhmm-hhm,' she sounds, vigorously moving her head up and down. 'We can go home after this.'

Where they stand, she sees everything but him, and she'd like it to stay that way. Honestly, she just doesn't know what she would do if he were to come in line with her vision. She'd most likely have a heart attack.

---

26Chapters

---

There's no one around to tell this to, but he wants it known, that he makes no habit of this. He never has, in fact, it's only that this specific case is different. It's just different. How often can one say that they narrowly escaped going to Azkaban some thirteen to fourteen years back, abandoned the league of evil doers, only to be sent back to the leader of the evil doers' league those same amount of years later, without the guarantee of the safety of their life?

Only once, he will say.

Thus, the difference in this specific case.

If he never comes back from that meeting, he would have said his last goodbyes to her, with all of his truths laid naked before her.

When he arrived, he carefully looked all around him, also casting a charm around himself, to make him invisible to the prying eyes of nosy people, which is why in a more controlled manner than how it happened with Miss Granger nearly a month back now, his Mark is displayed - to a tombstone. Not just any tombstone, though, it's one bearing the name of the woman that he loves.

Again, he makes no habit of this either, showing his Mark whenever the urge comes over him, because it never does. It's only that if he could callously display such intimate knowledge to a student girl, simply because she angered him bottomlessly, then he ought to have the guts to show it to Lily as well. To her, he owes an explanation as he is doing, and this big confession to her, should give him the right set of mind of purposeful determination to go ahead with the task that Albus is sending him to do, unlike the shame that he got from his incident with Miss Granger.

---

26Chapters

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A knock, even and carrying just the right amount of sound to be heard, breaks through the quiteness on this side of the door. Whatever sounds, voices and discussions perhaps, may be floating around on the other side of the door, he has no access to hearing, he only has the short sound of his knock to fill his ears. That, and the sharp change of the rhythm of his heart; it's audible to his ears now, the beating of his own heart.

He's not afraid, though, because from birth (even), he could argue, he'd hardened himself to not show three of his greater emotions. Happiness being the first, for he thought that if he ever showed it, someone would maliciously work to take it away from him. Sadness being the second, for the simple reason that he would be taunted for being in that state. And lastly, fear, because it gave the other party power over him. Concerning fear, very few, only three, in fact, have seen him display some tone of lesser or greater fear before them.

One of those three people, is the very reason that he is here – attempting to begin avenging her death. Another one of the three, is partly the reason that he is here; a solid delegater as always, that man is. And then the last of the three, should be clever enough to work it out for himself, that never again, will he see Severus Tobias Snape afraid and fearful before. Even less, begging for anything from the selfish being, because clearly he cannot be trusted to spare others where he believes that he will lose.

Still, concerning fear, he'd made himself excellent in the respect of hiding his emotions, but that never meant that he never had to prepare himself in some sort of way before a certain thing happenned. Like this moment, for example. Ever since Albus advised him to not immediately appear at the Dark Lord's side, he's been preparing for this moment. His preparation had been complete, whole and thickly impenetrable, that is, until the actual reality of being on the verge of the first and extremely delayed self presentation before the Dark Lord.

For all of his preparation, solid in form, it's nearly incomprehensible how it's seeming to be slipping way now. If he could equate his preparation to a mask, he'd name it a mask made of a papersoft material, that would weaken against the first harsh condition to touch it. Its weakening would then give way to slipping away, until there was nothing to cover his true identity, no matter how badly he tried to keep the mask held in place.

Just like his preparation for this moment.

Although invisible to the outside world, his preparation now feels like an answer slipping away when he needs it the most for his exam.

Damn it! How he hates that he even had to prepare himself for the meeting, and more now that his preparation is not sticking in place. He'd not necessarily say that he's fearing the outcome, or more, the reception of his presence, except, he cannot find it within himself to lie to himself that he is not fearful either. It's a reluctant in between for him, only that he won't display it. There's no point in concentrating on that now that he is here anyhow. In a matter of seconds, his knock will be answered, and he will be invited in, to see the very being whom he does not want to see. He better compose himself in any case, and make as though he is in control of what will happen to him once he is let in through the door.

As he is putting himself together, pulling his tattered mask back onto his face, just as it's nearly collected as a whole, the door violently opens.

It's time, he hastily thinks, and ironically, he has no more time to right his mask into fooling those who will soon surround him.

From the gusto that blew the door open, he expected a true Death Eater to be revealed on the other side, only, he's met by the roundish face of a lesser being, not truly worthy to be called a Death Eater - if there's any pride to be had in being something so pathetically vile, that one would subject themselves to be ordered around for the worst.

'Pettigrew,' he boredly mentions the name, which is his way of not truly acknowledging the presence of the short man.

An ugly smile, if it can be called that, appears on Pettigrew's face, giving of the impression that as ugly a smile as he is receiving, his arrival will be treated the same.

'Severus Snape,' Pettigrew says with a form of mockery somewhere in his tone.

Pettigrew, Pettigrew, he looks the man up and down, feeling as much not tickled as when he spoke the man's name. Here's not here to be debased by someone as worthless at Peter Pettigrew, and as such, he makes his purpose for his presence a clear and controlled announcement that cannot be missed.

'The Dark Lord,' he simply says.

He will not, he refuses, explain himself to anyone who is not the Dark Lord himself. Even in the case of the Dark Lord, he will not explain himself in all entirety, because that would be stupid. Quite self-destructive as well, but mostly dim-witted.

'Enter, Severus,' a hoarse voice calls for him from within the room.

For a second time, the previous collection of himself begins slip away again. Really, the way his collectedness falls from him, and begins to move all the way across of him, is as though it's being magically summoned by the creature to whom he is heading. Come to have such a thought, he'd honestly not put it past the evil Dark Lord to do such a thing, and because of it, he holds himself tightly, daring himself to maintain a composure that he doesn't immediately have anymore.

And so with mental braveness, he walks into the room, making sure to keep his steps as normal as possible. Footsteps too rushed, say that he is frantically fearful, and footsteps too dragged, say that he is a reluctant sort of fearful. Both would colossally be the wrong message to send accross to the Dark Lord, a willingly offered playground, in fact. Hence, his deliberate steps.

'My lord,' he calmly welcomes himself into the presence of the Dark Lord, following his greeting with a small head bow.

'Severus,' the Dark Lord visually considers him.

Promptly, not allowing air to pass between his spoken name and his response, he bows his head again, saying another calm, 'My lord.'

The silence that follows between them, is one that he could have guessed from the visual examination that he is so far being subjected to. In a dimly lit room, silence seems more the fitting thing to exist, than anything else, he supposes. There's something in the silence, though, that's not waiting, no. There's simply something in the silence, and he will do well to not be the one who interrupts it.

'My lord,' the Dark Lord carefully repeats at last, at the same time lifting his wand and pointing it in his direction. 'Am I really such, Severus?'

Ha, the Dark Lord takes must think of him as a fool.

That cool, seemingly merely questioning tone is a farce. Just as the intimate use of the name Severus before it was. Both do not surprise him, or even move him to feel afraid. Not even the wand pointed directly at him, frightens him, because Albus had already warned him that it could possibly get to a point of being treated as though his life was being threatened.

Also, the tactic of using a Death Eater's name, is only specific to some, not all. He, Severus, has always suspected that the Dark Lord does that to deceive the selcet few of them, and or manipulate them into believing the lie that he values them, that they are indespensible to him, when it's really all a farce. He long ago learned that the Dark Lord is never to be trusted. With anything.

Knowing that, he will not fall into the trap being cleverly set for him. He will rather play along with the Dark Lord's ruse.

'You are, my lord,' he replies, using exactly the same calmness as the times before this.

As the last word leaves his mouth, the Dark Lord abandons his place through a speedy glide, to appear standing right before him, his wand still not lowered from position.

'Then an explanation is in order,' he hisses, that being the first of his true emotions to seep into his words.

'Dumbledore forbade me all this time.'

It's true. To an extent. Dumbledore did forbid him from coming to see the wizard before the time was right to do so, it's only that he never did contest that, offering reasons as to why it was a bad idea to keep the Dark Lord waiting for his appearance. Forthrightly, he hadn't been in a hurry to see the Dark Lord.

'Dumbledore...' the wizard's red eyes narrow as he tests the name.

He makes the name sound like a rather disgusting taste in his mouth, and just then, Severus takes a proper look at the new features of the Dark Lord. Before his fall, he had not looked this extreme. He'd had hair on his head, and his face, although disfigured from the Tom Riddle who had left Hogwarts once upon a time, had been different. This bald and skinny thing of a man, red eyes included, is something horrid to behold. Granted, he is not the top of the class to pass judgement about someone's looks, but still, there's a line between natural imperfection and created distortion. The Dark Lord's new look, should be a crime punishable with an Azkaban sentence.

'Dumbledore...' the Dark Lord says the name again.

Obviously, the wizard's contemplating something, so Severus remains silent. Not for too long, thankfully, as the Dark Lord asks him a question in the moment that follows.

'You haven't wavered, have you, Severus?'

'Never,' he immediately replies.

Even if he had wavered, he wouldn't confess it now, would he?

'As you say,' the other wizard says, finally lowering his wand and then turning his back.

It's over, their meeting.

Only a stupid one, would not know that the Dark Lord is finished with them this way. There's nothing else to be discussed between the two wizards, but clearly, the Dark Lord needs to put him through a long trial to find his true loyalty, and until then, their meetings will look like this; brief, testing and not at all detailed.

'Stay as you were, Severus,' the Dark Lord softly commands, 'and bring me word of Dumbledore when I call for you.'

'I will, my lord,' he nods even though he cannot be seen.

After that, through a light and careless hand motion from the Dark Lord, he is then excused to leave. Now only, he can let out a relieved sigh, thankful in all it is, only, he'll first have to wait until he has safely Apparated away from this place to do so.

---

26Chapters

---

'I will, Lily,' he deeply promises, the words themselves coming from a sore place within his heart.

Fresh fom his meeting with Riddle, he's once again standing at her tombstone, with the aftertaste of that meeting still lingering in his mouth. There hadn't been that many words exchanged between him and the Dark Lord, at least, not sufficient to leave an unpleasant distaste in his mouth. However, the words that were not said, or even implied during the silence that found itself so often settled between the two of them, is what really fed his mouth with distaste.

He hadn't thought that a secnd appareance at her burial place would be necessary, seeing as he doesn't want to make a habit of coming here (least of all during these times), and yet, if there's anything to cleanse him of the aftertaste of the Dark Lord's meeting, it's the pure promise to avenge the death of Lily. Also, just being here, in her presence helps.

'I will,' he repeats the promise, much softer this time, to reflect the absolute resolve alive inside of him.

He swears that in some manner or another, he will do his part, as long as he is allowed to have a part, in avenging her death. He needs her to know that, if nobody else in the world will be aware of it.

---

August 1995.

---

What's he doing here?

How did he even get here? He's not supposed to be here.

Nothing is the same anymore, doesn't he know that? She hates that. He's the one person who's not supposed to be here. Before, she used to want to avoid him out of school, for the simple fact that no normal student wants to see their teacher outside of school. She's always felt that seeing a teacher outside of school would take away from her image of teachers being teachers only, and not normal people with actual lives outside of school. Since her third year, Lupin has been the exception to that, of course, and Hagrid as well, but no other after them.

Even if there was to be another teacher after them, it would not be Snape. If miraculously, Snape managed to make it to being an exception, she'd still not want to see him outside of school, least of all in a place that's a fraction home-like, when filled with the right people. After what he revealed about himself at the end of last term, her reason for not wanting to see him is far removed from him being her teacher, than just her feeling unfit to see him. Actually, the word unfit is a soft way of putting it. Apprehension is more the noun that she should use.

Aching as well, maybe?

Aching like her magic is suffocating her body. That sort of unpleasant sensation inside her body.

While yes, she can admit that she knew that he would be coming here, to Grimmauld Place, her first look at him, is completely unprepared. Her eyes see him, and before shock comes over her, there's a strong denial disguised as disbelief flowing within.

Yes, yes, yes, Order members have been set to have a meeting here (and this she's known all of this time, thanks to Fred and George's eavesdropping on their parents' private conversations) and yes, yes, yes, she knows (again, thanks to the twins) that Snape's also considered an Order member, thus, he would attend the gathering, and still, her sight meeting that unprepared view of his typical appearance, even for the briefest of moments, forces her body to react in a way that's foreign to its everyday behaviour.

Oh, she internally, yet painfully groans. Oh, oh, oh. Snape.

If her parents had allowed her to use swear words in their home, she swears that she would've thought of one swear word during that very long moment where her eyes made stable contact with his. Instead of a swear word, though, she quickly looks away from him, making like she saw cold-blooded murder happening in that direction.

What's he doing here?

How did he even get here? He's not supposed to be here.

Things are not the same anymore, not between them.

He did something to her, at a time when she was afraid and looking for a single moment of mature comfort that her peers couldn't give her, no less. He did something to her, which forced her to react without thinking, and now nothing's the same. Everything's changed. She would like to say that everything's lost, but to be fair, there had been nothing of subastance to disappear between them, so... She can only really say that everything's changed, to this point where she can't even look at him.

Because of him, she can't even pride herself on being Hermione Granger, because if she just takes a look at herself, it'll be very clear that she's not herself. Her body's reaction for one, and then mentally repeating the same thoughts about him being here, as though they will magically make him go away, and then have herself restored to normal as the consequence, is proof enough.

Aaah, Snape!

He's just not supposed to be here. She's just not ready to see him. Not at the moment. She needs time to get over what she did to him, what he did to her as well, and then only –only if she's forced to do so- she'll be courageous enough to face whatever unpleasantry he will have waiting for her.

---

Chapter 2, Year 5.