There were few things in life that brought Severus the same joy he experienced when it came to Christmas break. Since he'd begun teaching at the tender age of twenty-one, the two week reprieve at the end of December had remained largely unchanged. The student population was low, leading to fewer rounds. Fewer rounds and no other responsibilities saw him holed up at Spinner's End like a giant hermit spider. Which was exactly how he preferred it. He could indulge in his favourite pass-times interrupted, namely standing on the back step to his garden in the freezing cold, a glass of red wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other. To many it didn't sound like much, but to him it was pure bliss and the perfect way to clear one's head from all the drama and nonsense.

There was the added bonus that since he was still technically at school, he was unlikely to be called by the Dark Lord.

If he drank just enough wine and closed his eyes, for a moment in time Severus could entertain the idea that he was a free man. Not that he really knew what freedom was like; he had lived under another man's thumb for as long as he could remember. He was pragmatic (and pessimistic) enough not to yearn for anything different. It was an understood fact that he had been dealt a shit hand when it came to the lottery of life, made catastrophically worse by his own poor decisions.

As always, time was going too fast — far too fast for his liking. Every morning Severus awoke with the realisation he was one step closer to the end goal. One step closer to the next brutal milestone that would ultimately seal his face. This undercurrent to the season only deemed to turn his mood bleaker when the students finally returned in January.

Following a particularly painful lesson on Werewolves with his third years, he had very little patience for the sixth year Slytherins and Gryffindors. It was bad enough he had to (grudgingly) keep Draco from murdering Potter at every available opportunity, but he was continually distracted by Granger, whose presence he was now keenly aware of whenever she entered a room.

After so many years of trying to ignore her, Severus found himself drawn towards her like a flower turning to the sun. He didn't delude himself into thinking that he cared for the girl. Rather, it was a feeling akin to watching Mandrakes grow: there was a morbid fascination in tending to something which was destined for the slaughter. He could visibly mark the changes their lessons had on her from the subtle way she held herself. There was a confidence found in the angle of her shoulders and tilt of her head. She no longer curled inward on herself but sat poised, ready for instruction.

His instruction.

He issued his lecture on moderately painful jinxes before vanishing the desks and letting them pair off to practise. He wasn't sure which he hated more, attempting to prevent students from blowing up cauldrons or from blowing up each other. As they began taking turns he wove through the room like a shadow, taking points for poor form while never giving praise. He was acutely aware of Granger's eyes occasionally flickering in his direction. It was a nasty habit of hers — he'd often catch her out in the Great Hall, openly staring at him with a blank look on her face as though she weren't even sure herself what she was thinking. He'd scowl at her and watch the now familiar flush bloom across her neck and cheeks. She was predictable. Ordinary.

He passed by her and Longbottom on his next round, the latter appearing ready to pass out with nerves. Severus crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared down at her.

'Miss Granger. Regardless of how apparent it is that Longbottom could not block a Stinging hex if he was hiding behind a castle wall, I see you have not attempted to cast the jinx. My instructions were quite clear that you should both have ample opportunity to participate. Five points from Gryffindor.'

'I was just letting Neville try it out first, sir,' she replied defensively, tucking her hands up inside the sleeves of her robes.

'Ah, I see. You wish to save Longbottom the embarrassment of not being able to block a simple spell, when in reality you are preventing him from learning how to adequately defend himself. Miss Granger, your logic continues to astound me.'

Her jaw twitched. 'Sir that isn't true. He was just about to give it a go, weren't you Neville?' Longbottom's eyes grew wide as saucers.

Severus gestured casually for them to proceed. 'Please, don't let me stop you then. My day has been dull enough, I could use some entertainment.'

She didn't quite have the gull to glare at him so openly in the classroom, but there was a glint in her eye as she looked away, rolling her shoulders back. This should be interesting. Longbottom's face had now taken on a ghastly shade of grey as he raised his arms, ready to deflect her. Out of the corner of his eye a group of Slytherins angled themselves closer for a better view. Her arm darted out and there was a loud scream. Several students yelped in shock as Longbottom was lifted into the air, knocking over Finnegan and Thomas behind him. Granger's mouth gaped open, her wand dangling limp from her fingers.

Merlin's balls. Severus bit down on his tongue, trying to keep the amusement off his face. He knew what she was capable of — he was the one who taught her and he was nothing if not thorough with his intentions. However it was an entirely different experience watching the ease at which she attacked another student, intentionally or not. A knot of possessive satisfaction formed in his chest.

'Neville — oh god, I'm so sorry,' Granger whimpered. Longbottom's cheeks and forehead had swelled up in a gruesome caricature, the tight skin turning a shiny purplish-red.

'Miss Granger, you're supposed to stun your opponent, not disfigure them. A further ten points from Gryffindor,' he jeered while Granger continued with her impression of a goldfish. He folded his arms across his chest and peered down at the boy. 'Weasley, escort Longbottom to the Hospital Wing.'

'I didn't mean to do that.' Her tone had taken on that quiet, raspy quality he heard when she was failing at a particularly difficult task he'd given her.

'And what is it exactly that you meant to do? I have seen second-years demonstrating more control than what I have witnessed in my classroom today. Either get a handle on your magic Miss Granger or I will be forced to expel you from this class.' He almost took pity on her at the look of sheer horror on her face.

'But you can't do that!'

He slowly raised an eyebrow, mentally imploring her to argue with him further. 'Can't I?'

Granger wrung her hands together and stared at the floor before Potter sidled up to her and put an arm around her shoulders. Severus snorted and turned to the next pair of idiots.

She was fairly subdued for the rest of class, silently following Potter and Weasley like a lost puppy. It was a curious feeling to be simultaneously proud and furious with her. On one hand her hex had been practically lethal in its precision. If she unleashed that on a Death Eater she may actually stand a chance. On the other hand her lack of control was becoming a problem. In some ways she was exactly like Potter: one tiny spark of frustration was enough to trigger a rash action.

If only there was a way to harness and channel her fiery temper. Then she would truly be a force to be reckoned with on a battleground.

Caught up in the usual beginning of term whirlwind, Severus didn't put any further thought into it until their next private lesson on Wednesday. It had been nearly two months since the last time they fought — more than enough time for her to recover completely, providing she hadn't done anything daft over the holidays. Still, he had one more piece of theory he wanted her to study before they returned to fighting. He was sure she was keen to return to duelling, but it was important her education was well rounded.

Seven o'clock was marked with a tentative knock at his door. He sat at his desk, making notes in an old copy of Moste Potente Potions. Behind a curtain of hair he noted Granger slinking into the room to promptly stare at her feet, twisting the sleeve of her robes around her fingers.

'Well don't just stand there,' he barked.

Without giving her another glance he unfurled his hand, resting it on the edge of the desk. It always shocked him how willingly she'd place her hand in his, her skin always warmer than his own. There was a small hitch in her breath when his fingers came to rest against her pulse.

He could feel the steady rush of blood under his fingers, slower and steadier than it had been in weeks. He kept his eyes on his book, skimming the words but not fully grasping their meaning when her pulse quickened. He dragged his attention off his book to see her gaze fixed on the point where they touched. There was a dark ink smudge across his middle finger which had transferred onto the soft skin of her wrist. Severus dropped her hand, his stomach clenched uncomfortably at the sight.

'Your heart rate seems to have returned to an acceptable level,' he commented.

She took her place in the chair across from him, her hands folding neatly into her lap. 'Does that mean we can return to duelling practise?'

'In time. We must continue to take things slow. A few weeks of rest does not equal a change in your situation.'

'I'm aware. I'll have to be more careful, but it's worth the risk, wouldn't you say?' She sat up straighter in her chair as if to prove to him her health was in order.

He watched her carefully. 'It does not suit you to be so cavalier. It won't aid our cause if you push yourself to the point of heart failure.'

She crossed her arms against her chest and he was mildly reminded of a sulking child. 'How would you have me act then, sir? If I take the cautious route you'll call me weak. If I face it head on, I'm reckless.'

Severus drummed his fingers on the desk, his nerves bristling.

'These lessons,' she continued, 'they give me a sense of purpose. I've been friends with Harry long enough now to understand that sometimes we're dealt with a poor hand in life. It's our reactions to the situations that define us. I'm still angry at the Death Eater that did it —'

'Dolohov,' he said quietly. There was a tangible shift in the air and the tension between his shoulder blades unravelled like a cord which had been cut. 'His name is Antonin Dolohov. He was the Dark Lord's favourite during the first war. He murdered Molly Weasley's brothers in cold blood.'

Granger's gaze lifted to his and something dark flickered behind her eyes. 'Why are you telling me this, sir?'

'Why shouldn't I? He's not a faceless entity, he's a man. Never forget how easily men can be killed,' he responded simply, resting his chin on his knuckles.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, a tell-tale quirk that signified when she was anxious. 'Where is he now?'

'Azkaban. Same as the others who were stupid enough to get caught.'

She visibly shivered. 'You say that as though you wish they were still out there living freely.'

'Watch your tone, Miss Granger.' His eyes gleamed and she flinched. 'It's easier when there are more of us for the Dark Lord's attention.'

She broke the connection, staring intently at his hands. 'Does he call on you more these days, sir?

He rolled the question around in his mind, considering how much to tell her. 'No more than usual,' he replied at last. 'I'm more useful to him while I'm here in residence and can keep a close eye on our Headmaster.'

Granger ran her fingernail along the inside of her wrist before brushing the indigo imprint he had left with the pad of her thumb. She looked up at him curiously. 'What's it like? Spying for him.'

He slowly leant back in his chair, his hands skimming over the arms before coming to rest across his belly. 'It appears we're all for overstepping our boundaries today, aren't we?'

The blush that spread across her face was spectacular. 'I'm sorry, sir. I'm not trying to pry.' She licked her lips. 'I've been thinking a lot about what you said. Things not being so black and white. I know you were referring to magic, but the same could be said about actions too… couldn't it?'

'Your point?'

She appeared encouraged by his monotone reply and edged forward on her seat, tucking her legs under her chair. If there was one thing he hadn't missed over the winter break it was her enthusiasm. It was nauseating and exhausting, and left him with a perpetual headache.

'Many would say that spying for You-Know-Who is an unforgivable act of treason against our cause. But think about all the intelligence you've been able to obtain throughout the years by gaining his confidence. It's a necessary evil.'

'Except there is a gaping hole in your logic,' he drawled. 'The information I present to the Dark Lord has been carefully crafted by Dumbledore.'

'Not everything though. My father always said the best lies contain a partial truth.'

Woe be the day when Severus gained an inch of respect for a Muggle. The Muggle father of a girl who was far too clever for her own good, no less. He pressed his lips together in annoyance and a fraction of a smile appeared in the corner of her mouth.

'I thought so,' she replied, nodding to herself. 'I don't blame you for it. As you said… it's a difficult balance.'

'How kind of you to say so,' he seethed.

The excitement in her eyes dimmed. 'I've upset you. My apologies sir, I mean no disrespect. I'm only trying to expand my perspective of things.'

He ran a finger along his bottom lip. 'I had planned on another discussion for tonight, but I believe we should test your newly found perspective. Let us imagine a man who has spent most of his life living a sheltered existence. He has never been exposed to ideas other than those of his forefathers. He is part of a society where he is the minority, and as such has been taught that other cultures want to eradicate his kind. When he grows up, he feels he is under threat. During a fight, he fatally wounds a child. Are his actions good or bad?'

Her brow furrowed. 'It depends… how old was he when he fought, and did he have the opportunity for his mindset to be changed?'

'He was 16. And no, he did not.'

'Then… neither? His actions are bad, but if he never knew any difference then he was only a victim of circumstance, wasn't he?'

'The man I just described was none other than Dolohov himself,' he stately cooly. Her lips parted in surprise. 'He lived a very sheltered life homeschooled by a group of individuals who held pureblood ideals, passed down through generations. They truly believed Muggle-borns such as yourself only gain their magic by stealing it from other wizards. By the time he had the opportunity to learn more he had already taken the Mark. Do you still believe that Dolohov is a victim of circumstance?'

He could see the gears in Granger's clever head working through the problem, the internal battle waging inside her. By her original admission, Dolohov had found himself in a difficult position. But the man had also raised his wand against her, leaving her with a permanent injury. Severus would never expect her to forgive Dolohov, but could she see his path to the downfall?

A similar story was rife amongst his fellow Death Eaters. Of course there were those like Greyback and Bellatrix who wanted nothing more than to watch the world burn. But for every Bellatrix there was a Dolohov or a Draco who found himself in too deep with no way out. He briefly wondered what Granger would make of his own ill fated decisions. Would she be repulsed, like Dumbledore, or would she take pity on him?

As if sensing his line of thought she shifted uncomfortably. 'Sir, what happens if someone doesn't want to be a Death Eater anymore?' Her voice was low, sombre.

Severus gave a cruel bark of laughter. 'The answer is quite simple, Miss Granger. If the Dark Lord believes you to be unfaithful to his cause, your life is no longer worth living.'

Severus crashed through the Forbidden Forest, taking his anger out on the undergrowth. The Headmaster no longer trusted him. There was no further explanation to be had — he had played his part only too well and Dumbledore no longer felt it was appropriate to share the intimate details of his plans with him. It reminded him of the early days when his loyalties were weak and untested, when he wasn't even sure himself which master he served and Dumbledore made him earn his keep.

By the time the Dark Lord returned, Severus considered himself to be among Dumbledore's most trusted advisors. It was he who risked his life to bring the Headmaster all the inside information. And now that he had fulfilled his purpose the door was not only being shut in his face but locked and bolted. Severus was no longer privy to any of the Order's secrets. Who did Dumbledore trust instead?

Bloody Potter. Dumbledore's Golden Boy. It went beyond being unfair, it was outrageous. How could he trust a sixteen year old boy over himself?

With a roar he exploded a tree, barely caring to raise a shield in time to spare him from the shards of wood that rained down. Dumbledore had promised him an explanation later that evening, but the damage was already done. He wouldn't be placated by some flowery words. He wanted facts. He wanted to know what the Headmaster and Potter were up to. He wanted information.

And if Dumbledore wouldn't give it to him, then Severus was done playing games. He would fulfil the requirements of his Unbreakable Vow and leave this miserable place behind.

His mood grew exponentially worse only days later when Ron Weasley was found poisoned in Slughorn's quarters. According to McGonagall, Potter had brought the Weasley brat to Slughorn after suffering from the effects of a love potion. In a twisted turn of events, Weasley was given some oak mead which had been laced with poison. It was only Potter's quick thinking of shoving a bezoar down his throat which saved Weasley's life.

He didn't know who to be more cross with — Slughorn for giving a student alcohol (again; although, apparently it had been the boy's 17th birthday, so technically he was legal, but beside the point), Weasley for eating something mysterious after Severus had drummed it into his students heads to check everything year after year, or Potter for actually remembering something worthwhile for the first time in his life.

But no, it was Draco The Wonder Boy Malfoy who took the proverbial cake this time. As if Severus' warning at Christmas wasn't enough to scare Draco off, the boy had to make a second stupid attempt. Clearly he hadn't learned his lesson the first time after playing with fire and nearly getting a student killed. This time it was far worse because the student laying in the hospital wing was none other than Potter's best friend. If Weasley had died, there would have been hell to pay, and that was before Molly Weasley had been unleashed. She would have torn the castle apart to avenge the death of one of her brood, and the entire plan would have come crashing down around them.

The plan.

The stupid, bloody plan. Severus was beyond angry with Dumbledore at this point. He had returned to the Headmaster's office, and as promised Dumbledore had filled him in on some of the… finer details of the master scheme. The details which had led Severus to drinking an entire bottle of firewhisky in one sitting before being profoundly ill. As he had been one of the few to witness the original prophecy, he had an inkling what he'd signed up for when taking his oath to protect Potter.

What he didn't know at the time, was what the prophecy actually meant.

Everything. Everything he had been building over the last twenty years was a lie. It was bad enough that Dumbledore insisted on raising children as soldiers, but this… It was an entirely new level of sadism that rivalled the Dark Lord himself.

Well. Fuck that. There had to be another way.

To top off the wretched evening, Severus still had to perform his nightly rounds. He stormed through the halls like a midnight demon, reinstating the old rumours that Snape was indeed a creature of the night, when he came to the end of the corridor by the libraries. Draco's voice floated around the corner and he paused, leaning against the wall.

'You think I don't know what you've been up to?'

'Let me pass, please. I'd like to get to my common room before curfew.' It was a girl's voice, low and confident.

Draco scoffed. 'I don't think so. Not before you tell me why Potter keeps following me.'

'Why don't you jump off that pedestal you've put yourself on. Harry has better things to do than follow a pesky little ferret around. If you hadn't heard, his best friend is in the hospital wing, having been poisoned.'

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. Of all the students, of course it had to be bloody Granger. He was about to leave the two of them to their own devices when he heard Draco mutter, 'Pity it wasn't you. It would do the world some good to be rid of one less Mudblood.'

There was a loud bang and Severus turned the corner in time to see Granger had Draco pinned against the wall, her wand digging into his pale throat. 'Say it again,' she hissed.

A slow smile spread across Draco's face when he caught sight of Severus standing several feet away. 'Go on then,' he taunted, his chin tilting so her wand pressed in further.

He knew what Draco was up to and he wasn't sure if he wanted to stop it. It served the girl right for pulling her wand on another student. He thought she knew better than that. But as furious as he was with her, it wouldn't do anyone good if she got herself expelled. Or blown up.

'Put your wand away, Miss Granger,' he drawled, pulling himself up to his full height. He stalked down the corridor towards the pair, his lip curling in disgust. 'Fifty points from Gryffindor for raising your wand against another student — an unarmed student, no less.'

Granger jumped back from Draco. He watched her turn from grey to puce in a matter of seconds. 'But Professor Snape —'

'Mr Malfoy. I suggest you return to your common room.'

Draco shot her another cocky grin before dipping his head. 'Yes sir. Have a good evening, Professor.'

Severus waited until Draco was out of sight before he rounded on Granger, grabbing her arm and shoving her into the nearest alcove and casting a Muffliato charm for good measure.

'You stupid girl,' he snarled through clenched teeth.

She glared up at him. 'Fifty points, sir? Fifty points!'

For the first time he noticed her bottom lip was split, a bruise blooming along her jaw.

'I should take more for your continually insolent behaviour.'

She physically shook as her nails dug into her palms. 'He attacked me and you know it.'

'I saw no wand out but yours.'

She inhaled sharply, blinking rapidly at him. 'But he called me a Mudblood.'

He folded his arms into his robes. 'I heard no such thing. A student of my house would know better than to use such profanities.' It was a bold lie that slipped off the tongue without remorse and Granger jerked as if she'd been slapped. He wasn't entirely sure why he said it; was he protecting Draco or was it to feed the beast inside him that called for vengeance? The universe was unfair… Why should he be the only one to suffer tonight?

'How can you still be so cruel.' Her voice broke. 'I thought—'

'You thought what, Miss Granger?' He peered down his nose at her, his eyes glittering darkly. 'Did you think because I've granted you a few hours of my time each week that you could somehow use that to your advantage? I see that some lessons need repeating to get it into that thick head of yours… You are not special. You are no different than any of your other dimwitted peers. '

He expected Granger to shrink, to disappear like she had every other time he'd provoked her in class. He had the bitter realisation that he wanted to see her cry. But she disappointed him when she tilted her head back and clamped her lips together.

'No sir. It was my mistake,' she replied flatly.

Her unexpected response raised his hackles. Where was his bold-tempered lioness who'd rise to the challenge when baited? It wasn't enough to leave her there in the corridor. He needed more.

'It's fifteen minutes to curfew. Unless you've acquired the ability to apparate inside the castle it would be impossible for you to return to your common room on time. That's another ten points from Gryffindor.'

She stared over his shoulder at a fixed point on the wall but still she held her ground. 'You're right. I should have paid more attention to the time.'

Severus nearly growled in frustration. 'What was so important that you felt the need to break curfew? You believe yourself to be clever, but I see behind your smokescreen.'

'It's not important, that's the point,' Granger shrugged.

His patience was slipping. 'I am too tired to play one of your games.'

Her gaze turned to him finally and his stomach swooped. The fragile skin under her eyes darkened as the haunted look he hadn't witnessed since the beginning of term took hold of her.

'Am I right in assuming the Order will protect the Weasleys?' She asked, her hand coming up to tug on a curl of hair.

'I don't see how that's relevant,' he sneered.

'Random acts of poisoning aside, if You-Know-Who were to… I don't know… try to attack the Burrow in some way, would the Order protect them?'

He rolled his eyes. 'The Weasleys are part of the Order. It would only be fit for them to be provided with suitable protection.'

She nodded once. 'And what about Harry's aunt and uncle? If things got really bad, would the Order send someone to watch over them as well?'

Severus stared at her through narrowed eyes. Yes, he supposed if the Order got wind there might be some sort of attack they would do everything in their power to protect the Dursleys. Although he would be quite content to watch that miserable cow Petunia suffer.

'Yes.'

Her tongue snaked out to touch at her split lip. 'And what about my parents?'

The breath was sucked from his lungs. He had been so wrapped up in everything else to notice the signs. The request for books on extra protection spells, her constant wittering about her parents… her sombre mood upon returning from Christmas break. She was worried for her parents safety, and with perfectly good reason.

The truth was the Order had considered protection for her parents on multiple occasions, but the Order wasn't the size it used to be. In the scheme of things Granger's parents were a necessary collateral; it would be sad, but they couldn't save everyone. Their forces were needed elsewhere.

'No. The Order would not offer any support,' came his definitive answer, sharp as an executioner's axe.

He expected her to cry or storm off to Dumbledore to shout that it wasn't fair. Instead, Granger simply looked up at him with feverish eyes and pleaded, 'Help them, Professor.'

Severus recoiled from her, the walls inside him coming down like an iron portcullis. 'I cannot.'

'You can't, or you won't?'

'I won't. I am a spy, Miss Granger. It is not my place to act as a babysitter for Muggles.'

She let out a noise of disgust. 'The truth finally comes out, doesn't it? All this time I believed you fought for our cause when in reality you're no better than them. You still look down on me because of my birth,' she spat, taking a step back.

'Miss Granger, you forget your place.'

'My place?' She laughed. 'What if I was a pureblood? Would they be deemed worthy of a chance at survival then?'

His anger rose to meet hers at last, a vicious thing that writhed in his veins. Dumbledore's earlier conversation crashed over him in waves. How dare she make assumptions about things she didn't understand. Out of everyone in the Order, he was the one who had lost the most. He was the one who continually sacrificed everything for a boy he didn't love nor trust.

'Please, sir. I'll do anything.'

Her look of fury turned to desperation and in that moment, everything clicked into place.

Wasn't he, above all people, worthy of his own chance at survival?

Severus took a deliberate step into her personal space, crowding over her. 'Anything is a dangerous thing to promise, Miss Granger,' he told her silkily.

Her face paled and she licked her lips, taking another step back. He moved with her until her back bumped against the wall and her eyes widened with surprise. 'They're worth it,' she whispered.

Slowly, as to not startle her, he placed a hand on the wall beside her head and purred into her ear, 'I want to know what Dumbledore is keeping from me. Bring me information about Potter's private lessons and I will consider your request.'

Author Note:

I'm so sorry for the delay, lovelies. My household was struck by chickenpox and COVID at the same time (definitely would not recommend!) so any editing or writing has been difficult. We're all back on track now though!

Finally heading toward the end of the first act! I can't wait.

Playlist:
Eleanor Rigby, Pomplamoose
Whiplash, Black Math