Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, they belong to JK Rowling. No trademark infringement intended. I'm not making any money from this writing. The title I borrowed from The Cult, their song 'Painted on My Heart' inspired me and suits this story perfectly. Please forgive me spelling, grammar and any misuse of words and expressions. English is not my first language.

Painted on My Heart
Prologue

***

"...This is why the Elementary Potion would be the best basis for any further proceeding in..."

Hermione bent over her cauldron, carefully measuring the amount of Elementary Potion. Draco Malfoy, sitting on the other end of the class, raised an eyebrow in amusement at her eagerness, but restrained himself from a disdainful snort. He didn't dare to risk a detention. Since last year Snape's patience with him seemed to have been over and, while he still didn't deduct any points from Slytherin, detentions weren't all that rare.

Her sixth year in Hogwarts started only two weeks ago. Potions was not an obligatory course anymore. It was one of the most difficult subjects by now - although most of students considered it difficult every year - and, combined with an unpleasant teacher, not the most popular one. The class was small; only nine students have taken the course. Three Slytherins, three Ravenclaws, two Hufflepuffs and one Gryffindor. Hermione.

The atmosphere in the class was drastically different from the one last year. It was no longer enduring Professor Snape's malevolence and wondering what kind of potion he had prepared in order to torture them. Now there was a calm concentration and silence, in which Snape's hypnotic voice guided the students through the process of brewing. His trademark sneer didn't lose any of it's edge and the occasional tongue-lashing was as merciless as ever, but those displays of bad temper were the epitomes of kindness itself in comparison to the ill-treatment from the previous years. Snape was far more concentrated on teaching than on mocking. Potions became fascinating, enjoyable even.

When Snape fell silent, she automatically looked up.

"... in this or any other form. Who can explain the difference?"

Hermione's hand went up in an instant; a habit Snape mocked often enough, but one she was unable to eradicate from her instincts.

"Mr. Nott?"

Hermione lowered her hand. He did it again. Five years and it was still the same. He didn't notice her, didn't acknowledge her. All other teachers were raving about her skill and brilliance. He did not. The only thing she would get from him was: 'If you do not stop showing off yourself, Miss Granger, and enable other students do their assignments, I might consider taking another ten points from Gryffindor.' Why did she care anyway? She had no idea.

"And what would be the effect of such an action in the provided conditions?"

Hermione raised her hand again. Pathetic thing she was, to fight so hard for something that everybody said wasn't important.

Snape's black eyes watched the students for a moment. Hermione was the only one with her hand up. He turned his back to the class and focused on the set of vials on his desk.

"Miss Granger?"

She cleared her throat nervously. Potions was the only class that made her nervous before answering the question. Or rather Snape was.

"There would be no effect. Unicorn's tears would not react in the temperature higher than twenty-five Centigrade. They need to be mixed with the leaves and water before heating up and making the rest of the potion." Why was it so difficult to speak now? She thought she knew the reason. Before, she was one of the very few to be interested in the lesson and prepared for it. Now, everyone in this small lass was interested and prepared. Being the only one able to answer meant much, much more. It meant he could acknowledge her skill and give her praise.

"Correct." Snape didn't even turn around to look at her. "Now, if you paid attention to what I had said earlier and listened to Miss Granger's explanation, you will be able to prepare the potion on your own. Set to work."

Without a glance on her he sat behind his desk and became engrossed in his notes. Every so often he would rise his eyes to see if everything was going smoothly and nobody was dead, but, Neville Longbottom gone, the odds of something dreadful happening were minimised considerably.

***

Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could feel the headache coming, but refused to stop working. Only burying himself in work could keep dark thoughts at bay. Every time he looked at Hermione Granger, the memories resurfaced and were harder to suppress. Every single glance at her and he was becoming more and more aware of the black emptiness of his heart.

I thought you'd be out of my mind, and I finally find a way to learn to live without you... But it's just not so, and after all this time, I still can't let go... I still got your face, painted on my heart, scrawled upon my soul, etched upon my memory...

Sometimes he could swear she was her. The same eyes, the same soft, wavy hair, the same light step, the same tone of voice. Sometimes he stood right behind her, pretending to watch her potion, but in truth just endeavouring to recall this peculiar orange-and-roses scent of her. How he longed to touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin... She would smile delightedly and whisper: 'Severus...'

Snape threw his quill on his notes abruptly. Stop it, he ordered himself. Stop it now or you shall go insane!

He opened another dusty volume and focused on searching for the information on the differences between the properties of Brazilian mandragora and the Persian one. The Apothecary in Hogsmeade was out of the Brazilian one, and he didn't want to wait until the one ordered from London comes, so he planned on replacing it with the Persian. Unless the Persian lacked a certain property, necessary to make the sort of Sleeping Draught he needed. Or rather Draco Malfoy needed.

The knock on the door of his study broke the silence.

"Come in." Think of the devil... Without surprise, he saw Draco Malfoy, the only person likely to visit him at three at night.

"Excuse me, Professor, but we have a... situation."

Snape wasn't sure whether to be glad to have something to occupy him or to worry if the trouble his students got themselves into were unreversible.

"What happened?"

"Goyle... attacked Astrid Hansen. She put a Minimising Charm, I think, on him and he shrunk to about half of his size. Um, nobody knows how to reverse the charm, Astrid included."

Snape fought to keep a straight face at the thought of the big bully Goyle being shrunk. Then he frowned.

"What do you mean: attacked? Miss Hansen is a fourth-year, no match for him in any capacity."

Draco shifted uncomfortably. "Well, she was studying in the common room deep at night, and Goyle tried... um..."

"You mean it was a sexual assault?"

"Yes, Professor, that would be it," Draco said, not being able to look away from Snape's coldly furious eyes.

"I thought you were supposed to keep tabs on your 'friends', Mr Malfoy. Is it such a big demand to control those two nitwits or have I overestimated your capabilities?"

The young man swallowed at his teacher's venomous tone. "I tried to prevent such actions, sir. Astrid Hansen is a half-Muggle, and her wizarding parent is Muggle-born too... I made sure Crabbe and Goyle would think it below them to be interested in a mudblood in any way..." He paused and then added heavily, "I guess my job with Goyle was not thorough enough."

"Well, make sure it won't happen again. How is Miss Hansen feeling?"

"Not good, the girls are trying to take care of her. I'm not exactly the right person to comfort her... we might use some authority down there, Professor, to clear the air. And to un-hex Goyle."

Severus closed his book and shoved the notes into the drawer. "Let's not waste any more time then." He left his notes and memories behind and followed Draco Malfoy to the Serpent's Den.

It was hard to believe how much young Malfoy changed over the last year, Snape mused. Amazing how a Dark Revel and witnessing a favourite little cousin being murdered could affect a person. Right now Draco was Severus' most trusted helper in ensuring the welfare of the Slytherins. Cunning and discreet, he manipulated the more 'unpleasant' ones away from the ones who had no desire to become Death Eaters. He was very effective in making Voldemort appear disgusting to those yet undecided. With Severus' little help all of this was achieved without breaching the appearances of loyalty to Lucius.

Snape had always felt some affection for Narcissa's son, but now Draco earned his respect.

The two of them were making their way through the long dungeon corridors, towards the Serpent's Den. Students from all other Houses always wondered why Slytherins never tried to move their dormitories to a more pleasant environment than rather gloomy and cold dungeons. Serpens Tower was unoccupied and would make better place for living.

What only Slytherins knew, was the fact that dungeons were the biggest part of Hogwarts Castle. Their dormitories were at least three times as big as those of other Houses. For members of rich, aristocratic families that majority of Slytherin House was composed of, space had a special value. Not to mention that it gave many more empty rooms and corners in which older students could snog.

"How are your dreams, Mr Malfoy?" Snape asked.

Draco almost stopped dead in his tracks. He composed himself quickly, not showing his surprise. His control is getting better, Snape thought approvingly. He would very much need this control when his capabilities develop to the fullest.

"Nothing out of ordinary, Professor. The Potion you have made for me seems to have a required effect."

He's lying, Snape thought. "If anything changes, you must tell me, Mr Malfoy. We cannot risk your father noticing."

Draco stopped. "It's nothing, really Professor. It's not the Sight. I don't have visions; the dreams are not the prophetic ones... it's just... er..." he blushed bright red.

It clicked in Snape's mind and, suppressing a smile, he ceased asking uncomfortable questions. The boy is sixteen, what kind of dreams sixteen-years-old boys have? The answer is pretty obvious, unless the boy is Draco Malfoy, a newly awakened Seer.

Snape and Draco found the common room to be exceptionally crowded. Gregory Goyle, sitting on one of the green couches, was the centre of all attention. Everybody around was sniggering; even Draco's face cracked into a smirk. Gregory Goyle, about three feet tall, not being able to reach the floor from the couch, was a view to kill.

Snape frowned down at the boy with his best cold-like-an-iceberg expression. For a moment he toyed with an idea to get everybody out, but public humiliation would be a much better example. "Mr Malfoy informed me of the tonight's events, Mr Goyle. I am very disappointed with you. Such behaviour does not suit a proud Slytherin you claimed to be. To attack a person like Miss Hansen... really, Mr Goyle, your father is not going to be pleased." Goyle looked as if Snape shrunk him even more with his words, but the last blow was not delivered yet. "It is my belief that the Slytherin Quidditch team would benefit if your position as a Beater would be taken by somebody who can fully appreciate the honour that is bestowed upon him."

The common room erupted with the excited babbling.

"Enough of this circus!" Snape barked. "Everybody go to bed, now!" The area cleared within a minute. Nobody argued with Professor Snape when he had this look on his face. "Miss Ashdown," he stopped the fourth-year on her way out, "Please inform Miss Hansen that I would want to talk to her tomorrow before the lessons."

Amelia Ashdown nodded nervously from the doorway and left. Snape turned to midgetted student, his lips twisting with contempt. "And you can't even duck a simple hex like this one, cast by an inexperienced fourth-year, Mr Goyle. We should work on your reflexes. A few sessions with Peeves, perhaps?"

Un-hexing Goyle was a matter of five minutes. He stood up, stretching his limbs that were clearly aching. "Go to Madam Pomfrey tomorrow morning." Snape instructed him. "Just in case. Now, out of my sight."

"I trust you will prevent anything like this happening in the future, Mr Malfoy." Snape said when he was left alone with the sixth year Prefect.

"I will do my best, sir. Although..."

"Yes?"

"You have really humiliated him, Professor. He might want a revenge on Astrid."

Snape's lips tightened into a thin line of impatience. "Of course he would want a revenge. He's a Slytherin. It's up to you making him want to remain in good graces of mighty Draco Malfoy more that pursuing his revenge on a mudblood."

Draco nodded in understanding. "Of course, sir."

"Good night then, Mr Malfoy."

With this, Snape left the Slytherin common room. Sometimes he wished the Sorting Hat didn't look so very deeply into his mind and put him where it first intended: into Ravenclaw. He wouldn't have all this trouble with Ravenclaw students. They were the least troublesome lot in Hogwarts. What could go wrong if the student's biggest insubordination was staying in the library unnoticed and reading all night long? When he was faced with the incidents like this with Goyle, he really envied Flitwick monotony.

Turning around the corner, he bumped into something. No, not something, somebody. The smell of oranges-and-roses filled his nostrils. There goes his last chance of good night sleep.

"What are you doing in the dungeons at this time of night, Miss Granger?" He snarled angrily, furious with his body's reaction at the contact. The image of the two of them sprawled on the floor flashed through his mind and he jerked away. It was getting out of control! He was not going to spend yet another night feeling guilty because of his fantasies about a student!

"I... I..."

"Very coherent, just like a Gryffindor." He noticed she was getting more nervous every second. Well, it was nothing compared to what she was doing to him. "I'm waiting, Miss Granger."

"I was looking for a secluded place to do an experiment for Professor McGonagall," she whispered in a terrified voice, biting her lip. She also used to bite her lip when she was nervous. Snape's heart clenched; sudden lack of air made him turn his back on the girl. He had to get away from her; he would rather face the Dark Lord right now than Hermione Granger.

"I will talk it over with Professor McGonagall." He rushed down the corridor. "And ten points from Gryffindor."

After ten minutes he was sitting in his chambers, with a vial of red liquid in his hand. The promise he had made to her meant nothing when she wasn't there. He had to have this dream again. He had to see her again. Hear her again. Feel her again. Even if he was to break the promise he had given to her. He had broken it countless times already so once more wouldn't matter.

I've got your kiss still burning on my lips, the touch of your fingertips, this love so deep inside of me...

He searched for her so long. He didn't find her. The search brought his downfall and changed him into a monster. All he had left were dreams.

He drank the content of the vial and drifted into the dream.

***

Hermione stared after the Potions Master; his billowing robes vanishing around another corner. She let out a relieved sigh. Snape scared the hell out of her, appearing out of nowhere, soundlessly. It was distracting enough in the class, to find him standing behind her and to try not to be too transparent with taking pleasure in inhaling his spicy scent. Sandalwood mostly, Hermione recalled and shuddered. Such thoughts about a teacher! Not just any teacher, Snape!

She had no idea when she had developed such fascination with him. The way he ignored her made this fascination ten times worse. She would look up to him hoping to see admiration in his black eyes, but, if she happened to catch his gaze, he would immediately look away. She would observe his elegant hands tracing the edge of the vial, his lithe form moving around the classroom with feline grace. She would try to judge from his silky voice what mood he was in, what he might be thinking. All for nothing. He didn't pay any attention to her.

Damn the man to make her so unsure of herself! But sometimes, when he was standing right behind her, she felt very self conscious. What if...? Hermione shook her head, trying to clear her head. She was not going to think about it again! It was Snape!

With trembling hands she pulled out the object she was supposed to experiment upon. A Time Tuner. The place was as good as any. She had to go twenty hours back, which would make it eight in the morning, and take the Advanced Magical Runes class. It was at the same time as Advanced Potions and she had to give up one of the subjects. Magical Runes was a very interesting course up to now, and Hermione wasn't happy having to quit. Professor McGonagall was understanding. Given Hermione's experience with Time Tuners, Deputy Headmistress was sure she could be trusted with a newest version of one. Just to go back for one lesson to see if she really wanted to carry on with Magical Runes.

A quick glance at the disk of the Time Tuner showed everything was set and ready. With a push of a finger on the starter she was hit with a wave of dizziness, that was customary at travelling in time.

The dizziness was much stronger and much longer than she expected. Trying to swallow the nauseous bile that rose in her throat, she made an effort to focus on the mechanism in her hand.

"A Gryffindor!! A Gryffindor in the dungeons!!" she heard a familiar yell. "You will be expelled, you will be expelled!!" Something not entirely material crushed on her. Time Tuner slid from her hand to the floor and broke in half with a loud crack that echoed through the stone walls. Several little springs rolled out. Hermione stared at them in horror.

"Peeves!" Hermione hissed, enraged. Great. Now she would have to get a new Time Tuner. Professor McGonagall trusted her with the newest one and what did she do? She broke it on her first 'trip'. Her chances of being able to attend Advanced Magical Runes class were getting slim.

***