Merlin's pants.

As far as weekdays went, Wednesday had to be Severus' least favourite.

7 am: Early morning rounds followed by a staff meeting. Make sure to get in a snide comment about Gryffindors to Minerva.

9 am: First-years (petrified toddlers).

10:30 am: Fifth-years (cocky, hormonal teenagers).

12 pm: Try not to scare first-years further by scowling too hard at them.

1 pm: Double lesson with seventh-years… which wouldn't actually be too bad, except he spent half his time trying to keep the Slytherins from murdering unsuspecting Hufflepuffs.

5 pm: Dinner. More glaring.

Followed by…

6pm: Lesson prep for the next day, grading papers until his brain bled out from his ears, finished with a glass of wine or maybe firewhisky if he was feeling particularly adventurous.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was supposed to be easy. In theory it should have been an absolute treat after teaching Potions. His beloved Potions, a subject which he held so closely to his heart. Partially because he had a natural aptitude for it, partially because it still reminded him of her.

It frustrated him to no end that the majority of his students refused to see its beauty and take their lessons seriously. Most students preferred the fancy showmanship and drama of Charms and Transfiguration. The sexy subjects. Which was fair enough: undeniably there was nothing sexy about spending hours over a foul smelling cauldron, stirring until your wrists ached. It had the added bonus of wrecking one's complexion entirely, something which absolutely did not appeal to the average teenager.

Their loss.

However, there were many upsides to teaching Potions. It was quite a hands off subject. He could sweep in with a well-practised billow of robes, write the instructions on the board, glower effectively and let them crack on for several hours while he completed his marking. Bliss.

The irony wasn't lost on him that Defence Against the Dark Arts actually required him to teach. It demanded proper lesson plans, lectures and class time for students to practise new skills and receive feedback. Feedback. The word nearly broke him out in hives. No more could he be the sullen dungeon bat, scowling at the front of the room. He had to be involved, which did nothing to improve his mood.

It also didn't help knowing Dumbledore had only given him the post as a shitty consolation prize. Ah yes, Severus, I appreciate this year might be a tad bit more difficult. As an apology for leaving you in a fucked-up situation with no win, here's a chance at that post you always wanted.

Wanker.

So of course he was going to be a little sour.

Which was precisely why on that particular Wednesday afternoon, Severus sat behind his desk, watching a group of fifth years practising the Impediment Jinx with a raging headache.

'Two points from Gryffindor, Miss Weasley. You're supposed to freeze your opponent, not render them unconscious,' he drawled. The red-head squawked as he flicked his wand at the other boy to revive him. Poppy would be furious with him if half his class ended up in the hospital wing (again).

He massaged his temples, wishing for the third time that hour he'd replenished the stores of headache potions in his desk drawers.

'Mr Laurel— is your eye sight that poor or are you so incompetent that you cannot aim two inches to the left?'

God help him.

He was practically seething by the time the last bell rang and he could make his escape to the Great Hall.

Severus picked at his food while keeping one eye on the Slytherin table, looking out for Draco. The boy was another cause for his constant annoyance this year. He had been made aware of Draco's… situation early on in the summer. Upon relaying the information to Dumbledore, the old wizard had pleaded with him to assist Draco using whatever means necessary. Even if it meant carrying out the deed himself.

Did it matter that he would be damning himself in the process? Hardly. In the eyes of Dumbledore, and every other member of the Order of the Phoenix for that matter, Severus Snape was a lost cause. A drowned man. Answering Narcissa's call to save her son only sealed the deal.

The boy had brushed off his initial offer for help, stating he could manage everything on his own. While it was true Draco was one of his brighter students, unfortunately foresight and stealth were not in the boy's strengths.

Severus had spent the first few weeks of term watching dark circles form under Draco's eyes as he struggled to come up with an idea. He had hoped it would take the boy a while to cultivate a plan with plenty of time for him to intervene. Which was why his stomach suddenly dropped when Draco sauntered into the Great Hall looking quite smug.

Either he had just succeeded in besting Potter, or he had potentially found a solution to his very grave problem.

Damn it.

He needed to figure out what the boy was up to, and fast. It was far too early to set Dumbledore's plans in motion. Leaning forward in his chair he ran a finger along his bottom lip, casually glancing around the hall. Laughter drew his eyes to the Gryffindor table where he caught sight of the horrid dream team and Hermione Granger.

The intolerable, annoying, exacerbating, overachieving witch who made her prospects a hundred times worse by associating with the likes of Potter and Weasley.

From day one when her hand shot into the air, he knew her kind. The kind of student who prided themselves on quoting textbooks verbatim. The kind of student who buried themselves in their studies as if it were a personality. It was exactly the sort of student Severus loathed, and Granger was no exception.

Students like Granger made a mockery of students like him. Students who enjoyed learning the subtleties of magic and didn't feel the need to flaunt it in others' faces.

His blood boiled everytime she entered a room or her essay crossed his desk. He took comfort in knocking her down a peg. Was it petty to make a teenager cry? Probably. But when you found yourself in bleak and impossible situations, satisfaction came in all shapes.

There was something off about the girl this year, and he had a theory. Breaking the law, talking back to her professors — it was normal behaviour for Potter, but Granger had always been the sensible one of the three. The one who tried to pull her male counterparts back from their dangerous ledge. She was a Gryffindor, not a doormouse, but he had never known her to act with such arrogance.

Severus was on to her. He could see through her acts of boldness and understood a little too well what was driving her new reckless outlook on life. He wasn't sure if she realised it or not herself yet, but his suspicions were confirmed when she approached him for additional lessons.

His first instinct was to turn her down. After all, he detested the girl and wanted nothing to do with her.

But…

Severus knew there were only two outcomes for this year, and neither one was particularly desirable. It would either end in his death or see him cut off from the Order completely. He wasn't entirely sure which he preferred. If he were to fulfil his oath he would need to ensure for every eventuality.

Granger had potential. She was everything a bright mind should be. She was eager, and willing to learn. Coupled with her brush with death, she reminded him a little too much of the other bright-eyed recruits he had witnessed in years gone by, laying their lives down in front of the Dark Lord.

Of course, Severus knew that she was a fighter for the light. She would never be swayed by the temptation the Dark Lord provided.

Still, what if her intelligence could be turned into a weapon? A literal weapon.

And who could be more malleable than a seventeen year old girl, high off the energy of coming war.

As if sensing his stare, Granger looked up at the high table. She blushed as his eyes caught hers, averting her gaze back to her meal.

'Tea Severus?' Minerva asked, fixing herself a pot.

He hummed and pushed a teacup in her direction.

'You look unusually smug. Good day?'

'I don't think Severus would know what a good day was if it smacked him on the nose,' Pomona teased, sitting down beside him. 'You do know you're supposed to teach the students, not terrify them? My first-years were so anxious this afternoon, one spontaneously burst into tears when I asked him to hand me the sheers.'

'Where's the fun in that,' he asked absently, leaning back in his chair as he watched Granger.

He could have sworn Minerva snorted into her teacup.

They were locked in a battle of wits, staring unblinking at each other while refusing to be the first to look away. Severus had to admit he was moderately impressed: he could see the subtle spasm in the corner of her left brow as she fought to maintain control. The direct eye-contact was a siren's call; a tugging behind his navel that begged him to invade her mind, to break her down.

The Granger girl stood in the middle of his office, her fingers gripping her wand so firmly he was surprised the end wasn't erupting in sparks. He inclined his head, peering down his nose as he watched a slow flush crawl up her neck. Finally her eyes darted toward the door, clearing her throat. He was making her uncomfortable.

Leaning against his desk he took in her frame, letting his eyes travel from her sensible, polished shoes to the silver clasp on her robes. She was average in build for her age, only a few inches shorter than he. His nose wrinkled at her giant mass of brown hair.

'Let's get one thing straight, shall we. You may have requested these lessons, but we play by my rules. I am not your friend, this is not a silly after school Defence club.' Her cheeks turned pink and he smirked. 'Yes, Dumbledore told me all about Potter's little group. I'm not here to play nice and hold your hand, Miss Granger. If you waste my time you will sorely regret it.'

Granger rubbed at a fingernail. 'I understand, sir.'

'We will practise for two hours every Wednesday, provided I'm not called away. If such a situation occurs, I will notify you by owl. When you are not in these lessons, you will review for at least one hour each day. I will test you at the beginning of our time together to check you've sufficiently mastered the previous lesson. I expect you to pass.

'You will not speak of these lessons to anyone — especially not to Potter and Weasley. If you're spotted coming down here you will find a relevant excuse. Do I make myself clear,' he demanded.

Her fidgeting stopped. 'Where do I say I'm spending my time? In case anyone asks?'

Severus folded his arms across his chest, his brow raising. 'That's not my problem.'

Granger chewed on the inside of her cheek before nodding slowly. 'Okay. I can manage that. I appreciate your help, sir.'

He restrained a snort. 'I will remind you of your… gratitude when you're begging for relief. This will not be easy.'

Even in the dim light of his office he could see her pupils dilating, her breath quickening as she shifted on her feet. He smirked and pushed himself off the desk, revelling in the power he held as he sauntered towards her.

He dropped his voice to a low purr. 'One last thing Miss Granger. You will keep your daft questions to yourself. My ears can only take so much of your senseless drivel. Do I make myself clear?'

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. 'Perfectly, sir,' she rasped.

Now that she was suitably off-kilter it was time to get to work. First things first. 'Show me how you hold your wand.'

Slowly Granger obeyed. He noted the small tremors in her arm causing her hand to shake.

He scratched at the growing stubble along his jaw. 'Cast a charm.'

She furrowed her brow. 'Which one?'

'Tick tock Miss Granger,' he hissed.

Pink spots appeared on her cheeks again before she finally whispered, 'Lumos.' Bright light flashed from her wand tip.

Severus narrowed his eyes, studying her. 'Now a jinx. Silently.'

She didn't hesitate this time, flicking her wand in his direction. He lazily blocked her spell.

'Your stance is all wrong. Though I can't say I'm entirely surprised. After all, you can't learn everything from books.' He walked around her in a slow circle, assessing her form. 'Widen your legs.'

Granger shifted her weight. She flinched when the tips of his fingers touched her shoulders, angling her forward.

'Start with your left shoulder pointing toward your opponent, stepping through with your right leg,' he directed. His hands trailed down her arms and he heard her sharp intake of breath as he loosely grasped her wand hand, turning her wrist gently inwards. 'This is your starting position.'

He stepped back, returning to his place in front of her as she corrected her stance. She took a steadying breath and cast the spell again, a crease forming between her eyebrows in concentration. Marginally better.

'You cannot just point a wand and expect your spell to hit its target. Focus with your eyes.'

Her chin jutted out, her mouth pressed into a firm line. Her eyes hardened as she whipped her wand at him with a little more force than necessary. He knocked her jinx aside.

'Blocked again. Come on Miss Granger, is that all you've got? Even Longbottom can aim better,' he jeered. 'What's the point in all that intelligence if you can't complete a simple attack?'

Her breath hitched, her arm wrapping around her stomach.

He'd found a sore spot. A cruel smile twisted the corner of his lips. Sticking a knife in a sore spot was Severus' guilty pleasure.

'Ah, I see now,' he said cooly, stroking his chin. 'You use your ambition as a crutch. You hide behind your books and your research.'

Her eyes turned glossy. 'That's not at all what I—'

He drew himself up to his full height, stepping into her personal space. 'You're afraid people will see you're not good enough.'

The air grew uncomfortably heavy as he let the silence drag. She peered up at him unblinking, her bottom lip trembling.

'You're wrong,' she breathed.

Severus leaned down, his nose nearly touching hers. He ignored the needy beat in his temples that whispered for him to have a look, to see what was thinly veiled behind those brown eyes.

'Then prove it,' he murmured. 'Prove to me you're not weak.'

He withdrew, tapping his wand in a steady rhythm against his thigh.

Granger swiped at a tear before rolling her shoulders back, a look of resignation on her face.

'Tell me what to do, sir.'

Severus poured himself a glass of firewhisky and settled down in his armchair in front of the fire. His back was aching and he was sure he had pulled a ligament in his leg at some point while demonstrating alternative blocking spells. Reviewing the evening in his mind he neatly categorised the night into good and bad news.

The good news was that unlike a classroom environment where she could verbally vomit every piece of knowledge she'd ever read, Granger was mercifully quiet and attentive. She actually kept her mouth shut for once and listened to what he had to tell her. The bad news was that she was utterly hopeless. Oh, her repertoire of spells was impressive and her wand movements were pristine - he would give her that. But when it came to fighting she was like a bloody automaton. All sharp angles and no rhythm.

He raked a hand through his hair, tipping his head back against the chair. He closed his eyes, enjoying the crackle of the fire when the flames glowed green behind his eyelids.

'Hello Dumbledore,' he sighed.

There was a rustle of fabric and Severus squinted through one eye to see Dumbledore brushing the soot off his voluminous orange robes.

'Good evening Severus. I hope you don't mind the visit at this late hour? I did try your office earlier but it was otherwise occupied.'

Severus waved his tumbler at the man, the ice cubes clinking together.

'Excellent,' Dumbledore said jovially, sitting down in the armchair opposite. 'How are classes? I daresay they're everything you hoped?'

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. 'The students are worse than I thought. They lack discipline and spend half the time waving their arms around like a group of apes.'

The old man chuckled. 'You do love a challenge.'

'There's a strong difference between a challenge and a bloody nightmare,' he groaned. 'We're facing a war and our students can't even defend themselves properly. They should've had better teachers.'

'Like yourself, Severus? You know I couldn't have allowed that.' All the humour from Dumbledore's voice was gone.

'Of course, Headmaster,' he replied bitterly. 'What a scandal it may have been for a former Death Eater who dabbled in the Dark Arts to actually teach young minds how to defend against them.'

'Come now. With Riddle's curse on the role you would have been out of Hogwarts by the end of the year,' replied Dumbledore softly.

There it was. The real reason he had never been offered the position. Neither side could risk it if he couldn't stay at Hogwarts. If he wasn't a teacher he was no longer useful, and all bets were off. Severus was acutely aware his life had always hung in the balance, his safety only guaranteed by a job he didn't want.

He drained his glass in one go, wincing as the whisky burned the back of his throat. Setting it down on the side table he sat upright and looked at Dumbledore properly. 'I assume this isn't a pleasant social call?'

'You would assume correctly,' Dumbledore confirmed, folding his good hand on top of his cursed one, as if protecting it from Severus' gaze. 'I will be out of the castle this weekend. I expect you and Minerva to keep watch over the students.'

Severus' lip curled. 'And will you share with us what you've been getting up to on all these excursions?'

He didn't actually expect Dumbledore to tell him his plans. After all, he was a spy for the Dark Lord. Despite everything Severus knew, despite the countless plots he had been privy to, there was a deep understanding that he could never truly be trusted.

Probably for the best.

Dumbledore tugged on his beard, seemingly choosing to ignore Severus' dark look. 'All in good time, my boy, all in good time. Until then, I need you to concentrate on the task at hand. You've been trying to gain Draco's confidence, I hope?'

Severus' fingers tightened at the slight condescending tone in the other wizard's voice. 'Draco is a teenage boy, arrogant from the pseudo power that comes with being the Dark Lord's new favourite.'

'It sounds like another young boy I knew not too long ago,' Dumbledore reminded him. 'We cannot let Draco succeed in what he's been asked to do.'

Severus turned his head away, glaring acidly into the fire. No. Of course not. It was his soul to be forfeit instead. When he didn't respond, Dumbledore sighed deeply and stood up. Severus could feel the old wizard's eyes watching him carefully as he patted him on the shoulder. What was meant to be a comforting gesture filled him with disgust. He was not a dog that could be placated with warm wishes.

'Tell me. Is it true you gave Miss Granger detention?'

He looked up to see the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes.

'I found her attitude appalling. The girl doesn't understand the concept of speaking only when spoken to,' Severus spat.

Dumbledore straightened the front of his robes. 'She has been under quite a lot of stress. Sometimes I think we put so much focus on Harry that we forget to support those around him,' he lamented. 'Tell me, how does her health appear? Is she still experiencing the effects of the curse?'

'I'm not her nursemaid, Dumbledore,' he grunted. 'I barely have time to look after the health of my own charges.'

'I understand. Just… go easy on the girl. Won't you?'

Severus absently rubbed at his Dark Mark. Now was the perfect time to tell Dumbledore about the additional lessons she had requested. It was the right thing to do.

But there was something that made him pause. In the end, they were all working toward the same goal: protect Potter at all costs. That's all Granger's lessons were, weren't they? An extension of his oath. Keeping a secret from Dumbledore stirred something in him. All these years of bowing to others wishes, always being agreeable and following orders… There was something satisfying about keeping something for himself.

Severus had been a pawn on the board for far too long. Perhaps, just this once, there was an opportunity for him to have his own pawn in the game.

Author Notes:

Thank you for all the comments and follows! I adore you all :)

Also, special thanks to my husband who, despite never reading Harry Potter, continues to act as my editor in chief. He's very good at pointing out when a phrase is more Canadian than English!

Playlist:
Used to the Darkness, Des Rocs
Pulling a Thread, Kerry Muzzey with The Chamber Orchestra of London

Additionally Teenagers by My Chemical Romance. Because I feel like Severus is a bit fed up haha.