A/N: I own nothing pertaining to Harry Potter and the wizarding world and earn nothing from writing this bit of fiction.

This story is now being beta'd by hizqueen4life and I am terribly grateful. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Chapter 16 - And Revelations

The term is off to a great start: flirtations, discoveries, and awkwardness abounds.

9 January 1999

Hermione had happily settled back into a routine of classes, library, and books, if only to avoid thinking about what had happened between her and Draco. Unfortunately they were together far too often for her to completely forget, so when Snape called her to his office on the afternoon of the 7th, just before dinner, and handed her an obscure volume on magical cores, she thought she might just book tickets to somewhere far away and throw away her wand. There was one nagging thing that she couldn't quite shake, though: how did Snape know she'd done something serious? He never quite said, only that he knew and that Draco's parents both felt something. She'd been puzzling it out all week, but then, as she began reading the proffered volume in earnest, her memories flashed back to the previous June, when she'd saved his life. As far as she knew, he still had no idea about the life debt that he'd incurred. Was it possible that the disruption to her magical core had somehow alerted him? It stood to reason that if Draco's own parents could sense a change in their son's magic, perhaps it was possible. The more she thought about it, the more anxious she became.

On the morning of the 9th, Draco casually dropped during breakfast that it was Snape's birthday. Hermione felt a fresh wave of emotion wash through her.

"Malfoy, what would you think if we organised a little something with the rest of our year? You know, to show a bit of thanks?"

Draco smirked at the idea. He was certain that the grumpy wizard would no doubt be irritated that anyone even knew about it, but on the other hand it would be a nice gesture. If anyone had given their all to save their arses over the previous seven years, it was Snape. He turned to her with earnest.

"What do you suggest?"

Severus Snape had awoken that morning with a groan. His shoulders were stiff and he still felt slightly on edge after whatever Granger had stirred up during her little adventure to Avebury. He'd given her that book on Thursday and it was only a matter of time before she'd be knocking at his office door and asking obscure questions until she'd sorted out that he was right and that there was nothing to be done for it in the end. He opted to skip breakfast in the hall and took a light meal in his office where he could work undisturbed. Though it was Saturday, there were essays needing corrected and lessons to evaluate.

He was suspicious the moment he arrived at lunch. There were far to many glances in his direction, especially from the Eighth Year table. It was inherently suspicious when Draco approached him at the end of the meal to ask him to look into something for him in the common room around 8, though he agreed all the same.

He was unprepared for what he happened upon: the torches, which were barely flickering when he entered, flared to life and the Eighth Year students and the Hogwarts staff alike were all present and singing a rowdy Happy Birthday to him as someone foisted a Butterbeer into his hand. A host of emotions sped through him like a steam engine: irritation, anger, embarrassment, quickly tempered by their smiling faces to something akin to a trace of gratitude.

"Happy birthday, Professor Snape," they greeted him in turn, offering various niceties while Draco steered him to a small table laden with various sweets. He was about to scold Draco for not warning him, but as he reached for a pumpkin pasty, Draco had already disappeared and someone else had taken his place: Holly Martinez.

"I know, I'm like a bad penny. I keep turning up."

"You… what?" he groused. "Never mind."

"You sly thing, not even letting us know it was your birthday. How old are you, anyway? And don't lie or I'll just ask Minerva."

"Thirty-nine." He glowered at her, but that seemed to do nothing to deter the little smile on her face.

"You started here young, didn't you?"

Snape only shrugged and took a bite of his pasty so as to not be required to speak. It seemed the safest course of action.

Minerva walked up to them.

"Happy birthday, Severus. I'll have you know I had nothing to do with planning this, though I quite agreed that it was a fine idea."

'Typical,' he thought, 'washing her hands of the whole thing while still passing judgement.'

Several minutes later, he was able to edge away, share a brief conversation with Filius, who he needed to consult over some charms questions. Satisfied with his gleanings, he excused himself once more and made for the door. Martinez followed him into the corridor.

"Not much for parties, Snape?"

"What gave it away?" he drawled.

She chuckled and shook her head.

"Goodnight then. Let me know when you'd like to work on planning for the next Dueling Club."

Severus had his hand on the door by that point, but paused. Perhaps it was the unexpected turn of events that day that left him feeling slightly friendlier. That or he was trying not to think about the fact that she smelled like cinnamon again, something he hadn't noticed until she kissed his cheek several days ago. Truthfully, he had never stood close enough to her the previous term to know if she smelled of anything at all.

"Tomorrow, if you'd like."

"Right. My classroom? Around, shall we say, ten?"

He nodded and disappeared through the doorway. He sighed as he entered his chambers and put all thoughts of cinnamon out of his head as he sat down and began jotting down ideas for Dueling Club. It wouldn't do to show up tomorrow empty-handed.

12 January 1999

Hermione chewed her lip nervously as she stayed as everyone filed out at the end of Potions.

"You've finished the book then, Miss Granger?"

"I've read it four times and I still have some questions."

"Of course you do. Come to my office at 4 o'clock. Bring the book."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. That was far too easy.

"Right. Thanks, Professor." She shot him a smile and nearly skipped out of the room.

Severus sighed and realised he hadn't even told her what he'd learned from Filius. He supposed he ought to tell her that afternoon.

Hermione was undoubtedly enthusiastic at first when Professor Snape offered to meet her that afternoon, but now that it was nearly time, she found herself growing nervous. Promptly at 4 o'clock, she rapped lightly on the door.

"Come in, Miss Granger."

She closed the door behind her and swallowed anxiously as she slipped into the chair across from his desk.

"Before you rattle off your questions, I have a small bit of news I wish to impart."

She nodded and he continued.

"I need to know exactly how you Obliviated your parents. Filius seems to think that perhaps there could be a way to undo it through the means of Legillimency, but I will require every detail you can provide so as to not cause further damage. Do you understand? There are no guarantees, but if you wish for me to try, I will arrange something."

Hermione brightened suddenly at the prospect.

"Yes! Yes, of course. I'll write it all down, shall I?"

"That will not be necessary. What I do need is your memory of the event."

"My memory…" she repeated slowly. Having Snape in her head could be dangerous. But if she extracted the memory, she wouldn't exactly have it anymore. Not clearly, anyway.

"Yes. Now what were your questions on the book?"

"Well, I've really put my foot in it, haven't I?"

"That is one way of looking at it."

"And you're certain that Malfoy's parents felt something?"

"Narcissa implied as much."

"But he has no idea?"

"Not just yet."

"So how did you know?"

"I felt something."

"But you're not connected to his magic…? You know, being his godfather?" Honestly she had no idea how that even worked in wizarding circles.

"No," he said, eyes narrowing, and she immediately regretted going down this conversational path. "Rather curious, is it not?"

"Are you quite certain?"

"There was no magic involved. It wasn't even anything official."

Hermione exhaled slowly.

"What are you not telling me, Miss Granger?" he asked in a low voice. It felt at once dangerous and hard.

It was like an alarm bell sounded in her head. She had seen him angry with her, but never once had he felt as sinister as he did in that moment. She knew he had the means to pry open her mind if he wished. She also knew that, deep down, he had never wanted to maim her outright. She tried to focus on that. Hurt, maybe, permanently maim, no. He got angry, not homicidal. Right? Right? Except for that time with Sirius…

"Malfoy said you've offered to tutor him," she babbled, hoping to change the subject.

"It would seem prudent now, would it not? Now answer my question." The last few words had jagged edges, like a steak knife carved from ice.

"Please don't be cross," she pleaded softly. "I swear it wasn't… I didn't…"

"Out with it," he spat. His eyes now were narrowed into dark slits. He regarded her with his arms crossed as he now leant back in his chair watching her squirm.

"I'm rather afraid that it's likely because…" She wrung her hands as her tongue wet her lower lip. "Perhaps it's from… I didn't know and it didn't even matter… you were dying, Professor and I just couldn't," she gulped. "I couldn't leave you there."

He leaned forward and fought back the urge to hex the witch before him. Oh, he was angry, of that there was no doubt. But this chit, this witch who found herself bounding from one colossal mistake to another, had, by charity once more, done the irrevocable.

"Show me," he hissed, leaning as far over the desk now as was able without standing.

She opened her eyes wide in fear and he plowed right in.

It was the foremost thought in her mind at that moment, which saved him the trouble of searching. It was strange seeing it all from her point of view: hiding in the tunnel, hearing the noises, watching his exchange with Harry that he was certain was going to be his last. She left but came back, obviously did all that she knew how, and then got him to safety. He saw her memory of swearing Poppy and Minerva to secrecy, a bold thing to do considering Minerva's position as Headmistress. Of her dithering about in a shop as she considered buying him a gift when she'd heard that he was awake, the small cauldron that she finally gave him months later.

While he was there, he searched for other things, looking for the memory of her last moments with her parents during the war until he found it. Merlin, she was dreadfully precise, her wand not shaking in the slightest. She was truly a formidable witch, even under pressure. He would never tell her that, most likely. All the more reason to train Draco, however, before he accidentally tapped into her magic.

But Merlin's scraggly beard, a life debt. He slipped back out of her thoughts and stared at her. Hard. Her eyes were still wide, hands gripping the seat of the chair like it was going to slip out from under her.

"Get. Out." he hissed.

And Hermione Granger, because she was intelligent, leapt to her feet and got away as fast as she could manage, taking care to completely close the door behind her on her way out.

He desperately wanted to break something and settled on the chair that Hermione had just recently vacated. He picked it up and smashed it on the floor repeatedly before wandlessly blasting it to bits. How many more secrets were there for him to uncover? How many others would he be beholden to in his life? And how many more lives would Hermione Granger inflict her magical mishaps on? (Granted, it had been intentional with her parents and she'd done a fine job of it, but even that was obviously not without regrets.) It was good that she'd finally told him and he should have known by the fact that she'd been awkwardly kind to him, offering him small gifts and being otherwise thoughtful. It was clear she'd felt guilty about it. Not about saving him, but about the fact that there were unforeseen consequences which would not please him. She was careless, making the others swear to secrecy that it had been her. He should never have believed the load of waffle he'd been fed about his rescue. Of course do-gooder Granger would have been involved. Better her than Potter, but still.

A knock sounded on the door and Martinez poked her head in.

"Bad time? Shall I come back later?"

She looked from the pile of splintered wood and dust on the floor to the wizard staring at it as though he was considering incineration next.

"I'd move that to the floo before burning it. Just some friendly advice."

And then she disappeared.

He ran his hand through his long hair and did exactly that, sending the pile of wood bits to the fireplace where he cast an Incendio and watched it be immediately consumed. It was over far too quickly, but it had done its job and Severus found a modicum of solace in the fact that the chair was quite thoroughly destroyed. He considered summoning an elf to ask for a replacement, but then he thought perhaps it might be good for whoever had to come see him to be forced to stand. If they ask what happened to the chair, he would tell them that it was better the chair than its previous occupant and leave it at that. The rumour mill would do the rest and maybe, just maybe, no one would come calling without doing some serious soul-searching beforehand.

Hermione collapsed on one of the couches in the common room, heart beating in her throat.

Draco had just come out of his room to get a drink when she had flown into the room as though an angry hippogriff was chasing her.

"Problems?" he quipped.

She looked over at him and debated what to say as she tried to catch her breath. He looked as though he'd been taking a nap. His hair was slightly mussed and he had a small crease on his right cheek.

She shrugged and he returned a few minutes later with two mugs of tea. He held one out to her, which she gratefully accepted. He slid onto the cushion beside her and put an arm around the back of the couch behind her.

"You look spooked."

"Professor Snape," she answered at last after taking a tentative sip of her tea, making sure she wasn't about to burn her tongue.

"If it was about the party—"

"It's best that he not know that I had anything to do with it."

"So what then?"

The two of them passed several minutes in silence while they drank their tea and stared at the fire before them.

"If you don't want to talk about, I understand," Draco offered at last.

"It's just… well, it's complicated, you see. I really hadn't meant to, you know. I was only doing what's right."

"What in Salazar's name did you do?"

"I saved his life, Malfoy."

"Ah. Yeah, I can see him being angry about that sort of thing. But he'll get over it once he's grateful to be alive."

"I'm not sure you're understanding," she sighed.

Draco swivelled his head to look at her. She looked dreadfully serious and had a death grip on her mug.

"It's a life debt, isn't it?" he asked quietly.

When she gave a tiny nod, he let out a low whistle.

"Well, just do something really stupid this year so he can make it even. He'll be relieved and you'll be able to get on with your life."

Hermione shrugged, not wanting to reveal her latest blunder.

"I can arrange something, if you'd like."

"I think it's best that it happen, you know, naturally."

"You could wander in the Forbidden Forest at night?"

"I don't actually have a death wish, you know."

"Most people don't, Granger, but if you don't want this thing hanging over your head…"

"I've lived with worse," she replied tersely.

"Yeah," he answered slowly. "I expect you have, being Saint Potter's sidekick."

She struck out and kicked his shin with the side of her foot.

"Ouch, witch, I didn't mean that sort of sidekick."

"That's for talking about Harry like that. I thought we'd gotten past that."

"I was only teasing, Granger. You have to take everything so seriously, don't you?"

"Maybe it's because I have to, Malfoy. Did that ever occur to you?"

She had that look of irritation on her face that Draco was growing to adore.

"Because I'm the sodding Prince of Slytherin and don't know a thing about being serious?" His tone was playful, but knew it would rile her all the same.

"You're incorrigible," she huffed.

Draco's face broke into a smile. A really charming one at that. Nix that thought, she scolded herself.

He leaned closer and whispered, "Keep using those swotty words, Granger. I like it."

She fought to repress the shiver that he caused.

"Reprehensible git."

"What else?" he murmured along her ear.

"Cheeky prat," she giggled.

"That's hardly swotty of you to say."

The door burst open to the common room, causing Draco to sit up once more, both hands now on his mug before him while two of the girls scampered in and headed straight for one of the rooms, twittering madly about something.

He took one glance at Hermione and saw that the moment was lost.

"So the night we went to the henge…" he began, hoping a change of subject would bring things back around.

Hermione stood abruptly.

"Thanks, Malfoy, for the tea and sympathy, but I really need to go study."

She thrust her mug at him and hurried to her room, closing the door a bit harder than she meant to.

'Oh sweet Merlin,' she chided herself, knowing full well that she's a bigger fool than he could imagine.

22 January 1999

Snape was grateful that when he met with Martinez to plan for the next Dueling Club she'd said nothing about his obvious tantrum the day before. The fact that Granger had done not just one but three quasi-selfless things with unintended consequences for all involved. Would restoring her parents' memories cancel his debt? And what was he to do about Draco? And more importantly, what was he going to say to Lucius when the man found out? Because even if Draco seems content to let things lie, Lucius most certainly will not be. He had resumed mulling these things over as soon as he'd left her classroom, mingled with the realisation that this meeting had been the easiest yet. He chalked it up to the fact that she had stopped trying to be a thorn in his side and gave little thought to the fact that he was behaving more civilly as well.

They had decided to pair the oldest students with the youngest again, this time with the view to helping the younger ones learn better habits, allowing them to personally focus on the second to fifth years who weren't old enough to fight before but still live with the horrors of war firmly entrenched in their minds. The evening sped smoothly by and only a few times were either professor required to intervene when a hex had gotten out of hand. No one even needed to go to the infirmary. Hermione kept her attention turned from Professor Snape and did all that she could to avoid him in every way possible. Draco, however, found himself near distraction as he watched his godfather working in tandem with Professor Martinez. He found himself hit more than once from his first year partner, a tan, scrawny boy from Hufflepuff who was more than pleased to land a hex or three on one of the legendary Eighth Years, the most formidable witches and wizards in the school, barring the professors themselves of course.

The students were hot and sweaty as they poured out of the room and the coolness of the corridors had never felt more welcome.

"Hey, Granger," Draco called over to her. "A few of us are going to play chess. We need one more. You in?"

"Maybe after I shower?"

He knew that she was human and bathed like everyone else, but it felt awkward talking about it with her. Perhaps because it gave him ideas that he probably should avoid having.

"Yeah ok. I'll let them kno—"

He was cut off by the force of someone yanking him back into the room.

"Not so fast," Snape grimaced. "You were clearly distracted tonight. You're lucky to have walked away so easily. What's going on?"

"Nothing, professor."

Snape gave Martinez a nod before she let herself out of the room, leaving the two of them to talk privately.

"Hmm. I suggest we meet on Sunday and begin your training."

"Training? Was I that bad tonight?"

"Don't be daft, I'm talking about your new magic."

In all honestly, Draco was still busy thinking about a certain brunette that would perhaps be stepping under a hot spray of water any minute now, the rivulets running down her…

Snape cuffed him likely on the arm.

"Would you care to tell me where your mind is?"

Alarm spread over his face and he collected himself.

"But I didn't feel any different tonight. Aside from that weird surge of magic at the stones, nothing has changed."

"Even your parents felt it, Draco." It was just as well to keep going with the story that he had concocted for Hermione. "Your grandfather did say that someone else could train you. I don't see why I shouldn't be the one."

They agreed to meet back in the same room they used for Dueling just after lunch the next day. Draco hurried back to the common room where Theo and Terry were getting the boards set up. About ten minutes later, Hermione emerged from the girls bathroom, dressed in sweats and a thick jumper, her hair up in a towel.

"Malfoy mentioned you needed a fourth?"

After a few rounds of chess, Hermione and Draco made plans to study in the library in the morning after he broke the news that he was meeting Snape after lunch.

"That's wonderful! If anyone can help you, it will be Snape."

"I thought he was a wretched git in your book?"

"Well, sometimes, but none of us are perfect, are we?"

"Some come closer than others," he replied softly, looking down into her brown eyes that twinkled in the torchlight.

"Git."

"I'm not talking about me, Granger."

"Oh Merlin, look at the time!" she squeaked and, muttering a feeble apology, scampered to her room where she threw herself down on the bed.

Did he actually like her? He was acting like he did. Did she like him? Well, she was rather certain of it, more than last term. But then the knowledge of how she messed them up for the rest of their lives washed over her like a bucket of ice water. Surely he would be angry with her if he knew. Could he find it in his heart to trust her after such a thing? The very idea made her heart beat an anxious tattoo.

Draco, who couldn't for the life of him understand Hermione's bizarre behaviour since they'd returned to school, felt deflated. He was sure she enjoyed his attention. She certainly never pushed him away or asked him to stop. Instead, she would encourage him onward, only to run away in the end. Had he done something wrong? Or perhaps he wasn't being clear enough. Whatever the problem was, he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you once again to everyone who has favourited this story or left a review.