Chapter 2

A Brief History

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She had vexed him from the very start. Though, had you asked him to provide an exact justification for why, Severus would have been hard pressed to dig deep enough to answer more than a surface-level "The girl is a bossy little show-off." Beyond this, Snape refused to self-examine further.

The reality was too close to the acerbic professor for him to see it for what it was: She reminded him of himself at that age. And Severus hated few people as much as he despised himself.

During her first year, she was ostracized for her bookish interests, academic focus, and know-it-all personality. That hair...those teeth... She was an outcast with no friends, smarter than the other students by a wide margin, but was desperate to prove to the magical world that she belonged. Convinced if she simply impressed her peers, her professors, and every authority figure she could find, then maybe she would be accepted. Except perhaps for the feverish desire to show off, these were all traits that mirrored Snape's formative years at Hogwarts.

An only child, she was mature for her age and teased by her newfound cohorts for "talking like a grownup." Her constant nagging for them to take their studies seriously was rewarded with the label "Head Nanny" of Gryffindor, further ensuring the difficulty of making new friends outside Potter and Weasley after the troll incident.

When he, Quirrell, and McGonagall discovered them in the destroyed toilet, she had piqued his curiosity by lying to protect her friends. However, on their way out, she had cornered him and pestered him about his leg to make sure he was all right. It was then Snape learned personally what an annoying little pest she could be outside of class.

Upon witnessing her surprising intellectual capacity firsthand, Severus refused to acknowledge it. His casual dismissal and caustic remarks clearly stung the girl, who had become accustomed to her professors' glowing praise. However, she never gave up, nor changed herself to suit him. Her essays were still longer than the required length, going into quasi-related tangents that usually asked open-ended questions far too advanced for her level. And her potions were always perfect. Her hand still waved in his class, almost defiantly after so many threats. Learning she'd easily solved his potions riddle in pursuit of the Stone had simply been salt in the wound. He'd spent days crafting it!

It was in her second year that her cognitive abilities left him with no room to doubt that she would be trouble for him.

He had been demonstrating how to properly mash newt brains for the headache solution when it happened. Wanting to avoid any grey matter ending up on his cuffs, Snape had unthinkingly pushed up his sleeves a bit. One glance in her direction moments later told him she was lost in thought, staring at his forearm the way she was. With a sudden feeling of horror, Snape seized his sleeve and yanked it back down...

She couldn't have seen... it was barely even visible... she was too young to even comprehend what it was she *might* have seen...

But the look on her face told him she had come to some sort of revelation. He knew there was no avoiding this now. Severus remembered snapping some directions to the students, ridiculing that insufferable child for "daydreaming," and retreating to his desk for the rest of class.

"Miss Granger," Snape purred at the end of the period while the students were quickly packing their things. "A word if you please."

Visibly nervous, the girl swallowed. Putting on a brave face for her two friends, she instructed them to meet her in the Great Hall for dinner and approached his desk.

The echo of students laughing and talking in the halls steadily lowered in volume as they moved farther away, leaving teacher and student alone in growing silence. Hermione hadn't moved from the spot she'd planted herself three feet from his desk. Though she was visibly intimidated, Snape noted that she returned his gaze evenly, albeit wide-eyed. Staring her down was clearly not the right tactic for this particular Gryffindor. They typically either responded to prolonged eye-contact as a challenge like wolves, or simple blunt language. It seemed Granger required the latter, which was not Severus' preference.

At last, the Potions Master broke the silence and put the girl out of her misery. "Do you know why I kept you after?" Slytherins never admitted to more than they absolutely had to. They fished for information. Better to induce your enemy into digging themselves a hole by letting them talk. Classic interrogation techniques.

"No, sir," she answered meekly. "Is it because you were upset that I lost concentration in class?"

His black eyes bored into her. He smirked slightly and how easy it was to read her thoughts simply by her facial expressions. No Legillimacy needed. "Indeed..." he murmured dangerously. "A Sickle for your thoughts, Miss Granger. I'm keenly interested to know what insipid fantasy you clearly felt was more important than my class."

"That's not it sir, I promise!"

"Then what exactly," Snape growled, "were you daydreaming about?"

The girl was frantically trying to think of a lie that would satisfy him.

"The truth, Miss Granger."

The young Gryffindor floundered a bit longer, desperate to think of a way out of this, until Snape observed her shoulders sink slightly and heard her release a small, reluctant sigh of surrender. She looked back up at him, almost apologetically. "I was just thinking, sir..." she began hesitantly, her eyes having difficulty maintaining his stare. "I was just thinking about what an interesting past you must have."

A few moments passed before Severus realized he'd stopped breathing. He opened his mouth to snap something at her, but she continued before he could.

"And how sad it is that nobody will ever hear about it. At least... not from me, sir."

Snape's eyes glittered dangerously, realizing the severity of how much he'd underestimated this little chit. She knew. Damn and blast her, she had seen half of it! It was faded so much that it shouldn't even have been recognizable! The girl was twelve, for Merlin's sake...and a Muggleborn at that. How did she even know what it meant?

"And what, pray tell, made you think about my life outside of these dungeons?"

She gulped, eyes dropping to the floor. "I...well I sort of saw..."

"What did you see?"

She began shifting her weight anxiously. "I saw...I- I thought I saw... on your arm, sir..." she suddenly looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes. "I'm sorry, professor! Over the summer I started reading archived copies of The Daily Prophet to learn more about You Know Who because I'm friends with Harry now and I wanted to be a good friend and know more about what happened to his family and during my research I found some old articles about his followers called Dead Eaters and the symbol in the sky they would send and the tattoo they put on their arms to show their loyalty and when I saw it on your arm, sir, I couldn't help but think you had been a follower of You Know Who too and so I started thinking about it but I swear I wasn't going to tell anyone, professor, not even Harry and Ron! I promise I wasn't going to say a-"

"Cease your babbling at once!" Snape cut in.

She immediately shut her mouth, but her chin quivered a little.

Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. "Why wouldn't you tell anyone what you thought you saw, Miss Granger? If your rapidly made conclusion is true, shouldn't you be concerned?"

This time, Severus was surprised she didn't even hesitate to answer. "Not if Professor Dumbledore isn't. Surely he already knows about it, and besides... everyone makes mistakes they regret, sir. It would be terribly unfair of me to judge you for a bad choice you made a long time ago."

His obsidian eyes snapped up to meet hers with all the intimidation he could muster, a silky eyebrow arched. "And why," his voice was liquid mercury and just as lethal, "would you think I regret it?"

Hermione ducked her head in embarrassment. Her voice was quiet when she finally answered. "My parents are medical professionals. I recognize the signs of self-harm when I see them, sir. The scars all over your tattoo are quite distinctive."

Snape suddenly thanked the gods that the girl's eyes were still locked on the floor, because he felt all the blood drain from his face. Pale as a ghost, he clenched his jaw to try and regain circulation in his head.

The brightest witch of her age, indeed. Circe...

The girl had interpreted his silence as pure rage. Which was only about half correct, but regardless, it had the desired effect on her. With a deafening volume, Snape bellowed at her to "GET OUT" and "NEVER SPEAK" of it to anyone... "NOT ONE!"

Terrified, she'd scurried out of the classroom, wild curls flying behind her.

That had been the first indicator of how the rest of her student years would affect him. Or rather, had he known it was she who'd set his robes on fire the year prior, this would have been the second indicator.

Later that same year, he'd been prepared to make her life a living hell in detention for the rest of the semester for stealing ingredients from his stores before the entire school was overtaken by the more pressing matter of Salazar's Monster. Karma seemed to work in his favor on that regard, however. Upon finding the girl half-transformed into a cat, Snape had been forced to retreat to a broom closet to avoid anyone seeing him laughing so hard. The amusement received from that episode almost made up for the sacrificed free time he spent researching the counter-potion to correct her blunder. Madam Pomfrey, when accepting the vial to administer to Hermione, had given him the fiercest glare he'd ever seen when she spotted the symbol he'd drawn on the label: a cartoonish cat face with a mane of frizzy hair and buck teeth.

He'd graded her essay that had been turned into him by Potter while she remained in the infirmary. With some surprise, he saw she'd scrawled an apology in the postscript for stealing from him (while also assuring him that it was for a very good cause) as well as a long thank you for fixing her mistake from the Polyjuice... being sure to explain that it wasn't due to an oversight in the brewing process, but rather the hair added, so "if you really think about it, I didn't mess up the potion after all." He'd written a snide "Your results are what matter" in red, but ignored the rest.

She was subdued when she returned to class, either because of her actions or his dismissive words on her essay. He reprimanded her for helping Longbottom during the practical, but otherwise she remained quiet and reserved. After class, she'd lingered, and Snape knew he had to endure another one of her apologies. "What is it now, Miss Gr-"

He was taken completely by surprise when she dropped her bookbag and threw her arms around him, tears leaking from her face. "Thank you so much, professor!" She squeezed his waist tighter, head barely reaching his armpit. "I know I didn't deserve it and it must have been difficult for you to find a counter-potion. I just need you to know I'm grateful and I'm sorry for ever doubting you. And I'm sorry for stealing from you, and I'm sorry for setting fire to your robes last year, and I'm sorry for not standing up for you to Harry and Ron, and I-"

By that point, Snape's brain had rebooted and he firmly pushed her away by the shoulders.

"Babbling!"

A wet sniff later, she had grabbed the strap of her bag and raced out of his classroom, leaving Severus with a very uncomfortable feeling as he watched her flee.

When he received the news she'd been Petrified, Snape was astonished to find himself in the infirmary under the pretense of checking up on the medical potions stock. He found himself glancing over at her more than was needed. Fortunately, Poppy had no need for his assistance, so without any further excuse for his presence, he'd retreated to the dungeons to prepare the cauldrons for the Petrification Reversal. He resolutely ignored the fact that they wouldn't be needed for weeks until the Mandrakes had matured.

Granger's third year had been a challenge. So far, she must have been true to her word and refrained from confiding her discovery about his Dark past to her friends. All was quiet on that front, and the girl hadn't so much as given him a disgusted look yet.

However, the year was trying on many fronts: Not only did he have to contend with the PTSD-triggering werewolf of his youth and the humiliation resulting from Longbottom's Boggart, Snape was forced to endure a Hermione who was so clearly exhausted that she made his teaching a living hell. Her essays, damn the girl, were becoming so nuanced and lengthy that it took him two to three times as long to mark. Her ideas and cross-references were well beyond her grade, and it forced him to get creative on how best to knock her down a peg or two. "I doubt Grand Master Belk would agree on this point, unless you think yourself smarter than the father of the discipline." Or, "Sure, if you utterly ignore the Slovenian Potions Agreement of 1883." And even, "If you actually believe Moon Lily is limited to those uses, I have little hope you will achieve even the slightest proficiency in Herbology, let alone Potions. Get your head out of your textbook and think."

And though he would never admit it, Snape had grown rather accustomed to the small smile and "thank you, professor" the girl sent him as she left after each class. It was so very rare he was ever thanked for any reason. It unnerved him... both the thanks as well as his growing dependence on hearing them. It made him irritable, which, when coupled with his heightened anger and suspicion surrounding the prison break of his former bully-turned-murderer, made him a right bastard to be around. Particularly when he was forced to spend his precious free time brewing Wolfsbane.

The staff members had rallied behind Lupin, naturally, leaving him alone in his fight to convince Dumbledore this was a dangerous arrangement. Yet again, the safety of students had taken a backseat to the Headmaster's blind favoritism to the sainted Marauders. A werewolf as a professor. Living and working among children. As if that wasn't bad enough, this werewolf had been bosom-buddies with a now escaped, deranged psychopath hellbent on killing Lily's son. How could his loyalties be trusted?

Dumbledore had been quick to make comparisons between Lupin's second chance and his own, but Snape rejected the notion deeply. After all: had the Headmaster also forced that mutt to stand before the Mirror and then dive into his memories to view the reflection? Had Lupin also been forced to take a Blood Oath of loyalty for the privilege of teaching at Hogwarts? He doubted so. And even if he had, Lupin's condition was a physiological matter...not one solely of trust. He could be trusted to turn into a rabid, bloodthirsty monster every month, and that was the extent of it. Snape's task of brewing his Wolfsbane potion was only as reliable as Lupin's commitment to drink it. One forgetful slip-up (or rather "negligent" slip-up, Snape corrected) and every person in the castle was at risk of being killed, maimed, or infected.

He had to warn them. And if Dumbledore was too much of a priss to bother, he would find some other way.

The wolf had been royally steamed when he returned to class and discovered the "assignment" Severus had given them. To be fair, the Potions Master had only really done this for the benefit of one student... The only student he gave enough credit to decode his thinly veiled warning. Yet, she must have either been too exhausted, too preoccupied, or not as intelligent as he'd believed, because she gave no indication that she had worked out the message he'd sent to the class. It frustrated him to no end. Surely she could recognize the danger facing the school with an infected werewolf teaching classes? Granger had always been an obnoxious champion of rules, safety, and regulations. Shouldn't she be concerned...?

"Not if Professor Dumbledore isn't," her words echoed in his mind from last year. Could it really be that simple to her? Was the chit somehow convinced that anything was OK as long as Dumbledore stamped off on it? Surely she wasn't that naive. Though if she remained silent about his own Death Eater past out of some inexplicable conviction that he was reformed, it made logical sense she would extend the same trust to another dangerous wizard Dumbledore vouched for. Immature and childishly foolhardy. He sneered... though, more at the realization he'd been trying to analyze the mind and motivations of a 13 year old girl for nearly a quarter of an hour. Sodding teenagers...

When Severus' worst suspicions became reality toward the end of the spring term, and he followed Lupin into the Shrieking Shack, his first thought hadn't been vindication or even revenge. It was a controlled sense of panic that Granger was at risk...and Potter and the ginger soyboy, his brain added almost as an afterthought. He had no time to question his priorities in that moment. This Muggleborn Gryffindor somehow had gradually come to supplant his decade-long obligation to protect Lily's son. Not formally, at any rate. It was purely subconscious, and it only manifested during his flash of dread as he heard her voice when he reached the base of the stairs.

Bursting into the room, the red spark of revenge and hatred flared instantly upon seeing his old nemesis and his crony friend, and he nearly overlooked the Trio on the opposite side of the room. Old habits die hard, and Snape permitted his fury to wash over him. To be honest, it was why he deserved that blindsided attack from the students. It demonstrated that his instincts had gotten unforgivably rusty. He'd been a spy, goddammit, and Severus had let his emotions give him tunnel vision. He really was off his game.

When the werewolf transformed, his head ached, his students were in danger, and the nightmare from his youth was back to finish the job. His wand missing, Snape didn't have time to process anything; he flung his body between the children and the monster. Her small hands clutching his waist, pulling him back to safety, had momentarily made him forget her choice to trust an escaped psychopath and lying werewolf over him.

In the aftermath, the ex-Death Eater centered his thoughts on his failings as a teacher and spy, rather than acknowledge the slight betrayal and hurt he felt by Hermione's complicity. Black's subsequent escape had merely been the nugget of poo garnishing the shit-cake he'd been forced to eat that year, and Snape lashed out by exposing Lupin publicly, as well as carrying his grudge over into Granger's fourth year.

He blamed that stupid remark about her teeth on the grudge. Honestly, he didn't even remember the specifics of what he said that upset her so much... he just felt the need to lash out and let her know things were NOT all fine and dandy. That she couldn't just pretend nothing had happened. That he was angry.

Until that moment, Granger had been giving him the usual treatment: the "thank you, Professor"s and the bright greetings in the hallways, as if she hadn't betrayed his trust in the Shrieking Shack just last year. But since then, she had kept her head down in his class and abstained from greeting and thanking him. No more bright, obnoxiously cheery smiles from her table in the Great Hall at meal times when Snape bothered to appear. It didn't bother him, of course, but it was deviation from the norm. And Severus didn't like changes to his routine. That is to say, he simply took note of it...it's not as though he disliked the change, because that would be an admission it bothered him, which of course it didn't.

In actuality, that whole bloody, infuriating business was barely a blip on his radar compared to the brewing sense of dread and unease that had been building since the beginning of the year. It began shortly before the old barnacle of an Auror that was Alastor Moody showed up at the school for his new professorship. Learning that his old "colleague" Karkaroff would soon arrive for the TriWizard Tournament left a singularly bitter taste in his mouth, but even that vaporized into a minor irritant one evening soon after the other schools had arrived...

It hadn't been his imagination. Or a trick of the light. Or a bad dream.

The Dark Mark was growing undeniably darker.

Once Karkaroff had confirmed his worst nightmare, Severus knew his life would return to the hell he had endured during the first war. His stress levels had rocketed exponentially to the point he almost forgot he was holding a grudge against the girl. Not that it mattered... she had gotten his message loud and clear. All the better for her, since he was a Marked man and needed to focus.

While Potter was lost in the Maze challenge, Snape had been patrolling the castle. Thankfully, he had been alone in a corridor when the Dark Mark suddenly seared to life, making him cry out in shock and pain. He had sunk to the floor, back against the stone wall, clutching his forearm and squeezing his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. Wordlessly casting a silencing spell on himself, no one heard his screams. The more the tattoo burned, the harder he growled and shouted into silence. Frustration. Rage. Terror. Despair.

At last, he took a shaking breath, lightly brushing a hand over his face to still his facial muscles into a blank mask. Steeling himself, Severus closed his eyes and immersed himself in the bottomless and still black lake of his Occlumency shields. He calmed any ripple that disturbed the surface. This would have to be the last time he permitted himself to feel these kinds of emotions until the Dark Lord was finally vanquished, or until he died...whichever came first. Somehow, deep down, Severus knew it would be the latter.

The events that followed passed in a blur. Potter returned, Moody was unmasked, and Albus made his inevitable request to return to Voldemort's ranks. He'd known it was coming.

The girl was so preoccupied by the traumatic news and supporting her friend that she barely even acknowledged anything else. She'd locked eyes with him at the end of the year on their way home and offered what he could only describe as a look of concern or pity. He resented pity...especially from her.

That summer was absolute hell. It took him months to crawl and grovel his way back into the favored position he'd once held. The Dark Lord had ultimately understood Snape's choice to ignore his initial summons and agreed that he had made the right choice. However, many of his other followers questioned his loyalty. He'd suffered multiple rounds of interrogation by Voldemort, as well as been forced to participate in numerous raids on Muggleborn and Muggleborn- sympathizing homes.

After the first such raid, blood still on his frock, Snape had demanded Dumbledore move the Granger girl to a safe house. At the Headmaster's raised eyebrow, the Potions Master had viciously spat out "You owe me this," and swirled out of the room.

He learned that she'd been moved to Grimmauld Place when he stumbled into the kitchen after a Revel at two in the morning and found her sipping tea with an open book on the table. Their mutual shock at seeing the other dissipated, and Snape was once again stunned into silence when she scraped her chair back and flung herself at him.

Still as a statue, Snape didn't move.

Hermione kept her arms tightly around him and swallowed thickly. "I've been worried about you ever since I learned what he's having you do."

The exhausted spy extricated himself from her embrace. "He?"

"Professor Dumbledore," she answered. "Thank you for looking out for me and my family, sir."

Snape pushed past her to grab a glass and fill it with tap water. "Whatever ideas you have about me are wrong, girl. Now go to bed."

She offered a sad smile as she observed him drink from the glass with his back to her, then turned and collected her book. "It was good to see you, Professor. Have a good night. And stay safe."

She left before getting a response.

He didn't see much of her over the next month or so. Not as though he'd been looking for her the few times he did stop by Order headquarters after a meeting. But those handful of instances he stood gulping tap water before Flooing to Albus' office to report did seem... quiet.

But, one event did stand out starkly in his mind. This event, perhaps more than any other, cemented his curiosity and guarded respect for the chit.

He'd stumbled into Headquarters around eleven at night out of sheer disorientation and shock. The atrocities committed that night had been shoved deep below the surface of his Occlumency lake to the point where he even forgot that his robes were still soaked in blood. His survival instincts had taken over and he'd entered 12 Grimmauld Place with a deathly calm.

Though it was 11pm, the residents hadn't completely retired to their respective rooms, and Severus found himself confronted by both Remus and Sirius. The werewolf had expressed the most basic level of concern over his appearance, while the mongrel had made a snide comment on its normalcy. Snape was too detached to let Black's goading get to him, but he snapped back at Lupin "I'm fine!"

It was then he heard her voice. She'd been in the kitchen right next door and heard the entire exchange.

"You clearly are NOT fine, sir! You're covered in blood!"

The Granger girl. She was here. A ripple suddenly appeared on the surface of his lake.

Snape gave her an unreadable look and spoke the only other words he would say that night. "It's not mine."

Hermione felt faint, and managed a breathy "Oh."

She approached him like a trapped animal, and he regarded her warily with feral eyes. She scanned him, keeping her gaze on his person and the blood.

"Sir, if I may…"

The spy didn't respond, but gave her a warning look.

Raising both hands, she painted a picture while she spoke, waving them slowly up his body - but a safe six inches away. "Judging by the angle and force of the spray…" she passed her hand up along his neck and beside his cheek where the blood specks spaced out "...the victim was probably on the ground, facing you, about here…" she indicates a place not too far away from Snape's shoes. "Which indicates..." she swallowed, "that you're likely the one who killed them."

Snape barely flinched, something like pain, fear and something else in his eyes.

Sirius snorted through his nose sarcastically. "What an utter shock, that is."

Hermione whipped her head to him in frustration. "You're being deliberately unkind, and I don't appreciate it, Mr. Black."

"Hermione, calm down. It's just a joke, and if you knew Snivellus the way we do, you'd know that it's based in truth."

A muscle in Severus' cheek began jumping, but Hermione intervened before he managed to turn away from the group.

"If you can't contribute anything helpful, I ask that you leave," she addressed Sirius coldly.

The dog actually looked taken aback at her hostility. Or rather, her maturity. She hadn't shouted, whined, or had an attitude... even Remus looked at her oddly, as though he were seeing her for the very first time.

Hermione resumed her inspection, returning to the front of Severus' soaked coat. "My parents are medical professionals" - how she loved reminding everyone of that fact, Snape internally scoffed - "and this is arterial blood. I can tell by the color and consistency. There's a lot of it, too. It tells me the victim bled out in seconds." She finally met his gaze, forcing her eyes to convey reassurance, support, and nothing judgmental. "It also tells me that it was a quick, mostly painless death… they didn't suffer long."

Suddenly powerless to his emotions, Snape's eyes filled with rage and hatred. But it wasn't directed at her. He remained frozen in place, glaring at the floor between them.

Sirius broke the uneasy silence, determined to have the last word. "You're selectively ignoring the fact they could have been tortured and butchered during the long time leading up to their death."

Snape felt the anger suddenly surge white-hot from the girl in front of him.

"Well then, Mister Black, it tells me that he ended their suffering. My point still stands."

"And what point is that, exactly?"

"That should I ever be captured by Death Eaters, I pray I'm lucky enough to have Professor Snape there to put me out of my misery, because God only knows the delights they have in store for someone like me! Good night!"

Tossing her wild mane of curls over her shoulder, the Gryffindor lioness tramped up the stairs to her room and slammed the door shut.

The subsequent shrieks and profanities from Mrs. Black's portrait undoubtedly woke the entire house, but Severus couldn't give less of a fuck. The look on Black's face when the girl had shut him down would give him a truly happy memory to look back upon. Hell, it may even have been enough to conjure his Patronus.

"What the hell just happened?" Black asked Lupin in bemusement.

But, more than seeing the dog put in his place, the mere fact someone had believed the best of him in the face of it all... stood up for him against her own friends and defended his character despite the glaring evidence of his crimes. Lily would have never...

It made him wonder what the hell was wrong with this girl.

Snape spent Hermione's fifth year mostly in a haze of pain, stress, and fury. Dealing with that putrid piss-bucket of a woman Umbridge when he wasn't attending a Revel or a raid or a Death Eater meeting was pushing him beyond his breaking point. Albus wasn't there to report to, so Severus frequently questioned the purpose of his ongoing role at all. The nights he staggered into his room to heal his injuries, the small hours of the morning he awoke to a post-Cruciatus seizure, or the random mid-day nose bleeds all contributed to his growing sense of hopelessness.

One small thing that kept him going was his knowledge of Dumbledore's Army... the organized resistance club Hermione had conceived of to undermine Umbridge. It was a well-kept secret among the staff, and each professor prided themselves on contributing in subtle, invisible ways.

It also helped that the girl had apparently forgiven him for the insulting comment he made the year prior. She was back to her bright smiles, her thanks after each class, and warm greetings in the halls. And, for whatever reason, she had begun condensing her homework essays to the specified lengths. Short, concise, and easy to grade. She'd even begun throwing little jokes, puns, and referential humor into them. On one, she made a self-mocking referral to her Polyjuice mixup. On another, she made an unflattering comparison between the severed toad head ingredient and the current acting-Headmistress that he had to magically erase lest it be discovered... but not before showing it to Minerva and Filius for a good laugh in the staff room.

Though daily life was made slightly less onerous because of Granger, it couldn't withstand the ongoing assault of misery that was Potter. His Occlumency lessons were a disaster, and Severus' frayed nerves and near-delirious exhaustion made him a less than patient tutor... particularly when the boy clearly refused to practice the techniques on his own. The invasion of his private memories was the last straw, and Snape erupted in a rage he had sworn he wouldn't permit before Voldemort's demise. He doubted the girl would forgive him once she learned what happened through the prism of Potter's retelling.

But, she didn't seem to be angry at him for what transpired. Instead, Snape observed as Harry practically slunk around in shame whenever Hermione was close by. Like a whipped dog, Severus thought with some satisfaction. He didn't know what the girl had said to him, but it clearly had made an impact... just not enough of one to actually convince him to practice his Occlumency. A blunder that put all of his friends, including the Order, at risk later that year. A blunder that cost lives. A blunder that maimed and almost killed Granger in the Department of Mysteries.

Snape had witnessed and participated in many atrocities throughout his life as a Death Eater and spy. He'd seen some unthinkable things that would reappear in his nightmares. But he had never felt such core-shaking panic as he did when he raced to the Hospital Wing at Poppy's urgent request and found a deathly pale Hermione trembling in bed, gushing blood.

He'd snapped at Poppy and Albus and everyone else present to leave her room. Then, he'd gingerly cut away her clothes and peeled the fabric off the long gash on her chest. The Dark curse Dolohov had used was his own spell...Sectumsempra. His own voice shaky, Snape began to sing the counter-curse, staring at the pulsating wound and willing it to stop bleeding.

He was startled when he felt her blue-tinted hand grab his fingers next to her on the mattress.

Tears of pain streaked down to her hair as she stared into his eyes. "Am I going to die, Professor?" she whispered weakly.

Snape returned her gaze impassively. "I forbid it."

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips and reached her eyes. Then she squeezed his hand. "Yes sir," she breathed before passing out.

He worked all night to stabilize her and minimize the scarring. When his Mark flared to life, Severus had to steady his Occlumency lake to keep himself from storming to the post-op debrief and murdering Dolohov. In fact, he didn't go at all. He remained next to Granger's bed until morning and willingly faced Voldemort's wrath for ignoring his Summons.

A punishment he bore gladly.

Snape's assignment to Defense Against the Dark Arts was rather anticlimactic. He'd been requesting that position for almost as long as he'd taught at Hogwarts, but the circumstances which led to his transfer curtailed any celebration he would have enjoyed. Dumbledore's cursed hand spelled the end of his life before the year's end and a whole new layer of this war that he would feel the brunt of. Snape knew Albus had something other than a rotting appendage up his sleeve, and he felt anxious and suspicious of what he had planned. Albus knew his days were numbered, and Snape waited for the other shoe to drop.

When he learned about the new legislation being talked about in the Ministry, Snape laughed it off as utter bullocks. However, when Dumbledore requested he join him for a talk in the gardens, Severus could hardly believe his ears when finally presented with the "master plan."

It had taken every ounce of manipulation the Headmaster possessed to coerce his Potions Master into finally, resentfully, agreeing to his strategy: Killing him, saving Draco's soul, betraying the Order, and marrying Hermione to keep a line of communication open to the Trio in the dark days that would follow Albus' death and transfer of power.

"Have you ever considered that you ask too much... that you take too much for granted?"

"I will not negotiate with you, Severus."

"It's no longer just my life. I won't allow you to destroy hers as well."

"This isn't a matter of having your permission. Your feelings in this are irrelevant, Severus. You agreed. Nothing more to discuss."

At that, Snape's whole body stiffened, the tingle of magic prickling up and down his arms... a reminder of the Unbreakable Vow he'd made to the old man all those years ago. Resentment flooding him, Severus made a sarcastic bow of obedience.

"My only consolation is that you haven't bound the girl into subservience. Not yet. And I have enough faith in her that she won't agree to your schemes so easily."

Dumbledore chuckled mirthlessly. "And I give her enough credit to see the value in them. It appears we will see who proves right."

Snape slammed his boot onto the garden path. "This is not some silly wager!"

"I am well aware, Severus. I am well aware."

The Potions Master stood rooted to the ground and watched with venom as his master strolled off into the night.

He prayed to God that Hermione Granger would be stronger than him.