Hermione Granger's hand shook as it hovered over her cauldron. Severus frowned. What purpose could she have for armadillo bile in a Calming Draught?
"Miss Granger," he hissed, reaching for her arm.
She startled and turned. He stepped back as the phial slipped from her hand. It struck the floor and broke; yellow armadillo bile oozing out in a spreading puddle.
She pulled her wand, flinching as she muttering a cleaning spell. He wondered at her nervous behavior.
"Fifteen points form Gryffindor for wasting supplies," he said. She refused to meet his eyes and kept sending desperate looks in Potter's direction. Severus glanced suspiciously between the two. Had they been planning mischief?
"Detention at eight, Miss Granger," he said, watching them closely. Mr. Weasley looked ready to object, but Potter placed a hand on his arm, and gave Severus a very nasty look.
Would his intervention prevent the boy's plans, Severus wondered as he walked to the front of the class, or were they merely delayed?
He gave the three of them a long, scrutinizing look, and dismissed the class.
Severus was measuring a new delivery of chameleon scales when she arrived. He observed her in the periphery of his vision as she fidgeted in the storeroom's doorway.
"You will be scrubbing cauldrons tonight, Miss Granger," he said casually, without looking up. "Leave your wand."
She reached around the doorframe, placed her wand at the farthest edge of his workbench, and left. He sealed the chameleon scales in a jar, and shelved it properly. When he heard her begin scrubbing, he fetched her wand.
He unrolled a fresh parchment, calmly sprinkled ink along the bottom, and set her wand at the top.
"Scribe tabulam incantamenta," he murmured.
The ink droplets slid upward, reforming themselves into the names of the spells she had most recently cast; a cleaning charm, seventh year Transfiguration spells, half a dozen Accios, and a Lumos.
He was about to give up, and assume that either they hadn't put their plan into action yet, or whatever they'd done hadn't required any unusual spells, when he saw a clothing charm, which she apparently never used. It had been cast after Mobilicorpus, which had followed an Obliviate, and even more unsettlingly, Animam Suffoco.
Neither spell was Unforgivable. However, Animam Suffoco bordered the edges of Dark; it was unpleasant enough not to be taught at Hogwarts. He heard the water slosh as she cleaned, and he wondered what scheme could possibly justify its use to a moralist like Hermione Granger.
Severus moved to watch her from the door way, disturbed that whatever they had done that weekend would have been impossible without his indulgence of her recent interest in restricted magics. It now that appeared she was in need of guidance.
He cast a silencing spell, and crossed the room. "It is not wise to rely on memory charms," he said civilly, testing her.
She turned, and seeing him so close, backed into the sink's edge. Her expression practically screamed guilt. He was disappointed by her transparency, and what he had to do because of it.
He stepped forward quickly, while she was still dumb with surprise and firmly grasped her chin with his left hand. He tilted her face, raised his wand, and stared into her eyes.
"Legilimens."
"Yes," her professor said. He was assessing her with his horrible black eyes, and a air of scientific curiosity. She hated him for it.
He stared down at her from his position of authority, unrepentant. Untouched, while she felt so small and scrubbed raw, violated.
He isn't sorry, she thought, aghast. No, not sorry at all.
She'd make him sorry.
"I'm not sorry," she said, but she was. She was, oh god, she was.
Why couldn't she hurt him?
"You will be," he said, and smirked, as if he were still behind his teacher's desk.
Teacher, oh god...
"Finite Incantatam," he gasped, recoiling from her hatred and confusion.
She steadied herself on a nearby stool, and clung to it, shivering. He listened to her breathe harshly as he pieced together what he had seen.
Her thoughts settled with his own. For once, the peculiar understanding afforded by Legilimency wasn't an irritant. She had a fine mind, and a moral sense that existed independant from authority's approval. Both faculties had been regrettably unsettled by her loss. He wondered for a moment how else he could have expected her to react.
The image of other children's blank eyes came to him, and he was suddenly glad one of his students had the strength to fight, even if it was misdirected. He couldn't cultivate a weak spirit, but he could give her the knowledge she needed to survive and have her revenge.
Pulling herself together, she cast a hopeless glance at the door. "What are you going to do?" she gasped, and then, trying to sound brave, "Am I to be expelled?"
Did she really think the Headmaster would allow that to happen? She'd done far less to him than Sirius Black and with a far better reason. If the Headmaster were alerted, he would choose to Obliviate her. Dumbledore would say she'd been addled with grief at the time, and he'd never, ever accept that she had a right to her hate.
Severus took a long moment to assess her. She'd straightened her posture, and was meeting his eyes with an expression of determination hiding fear. No, he thought, this was a lesson she must learn, and remember.
"Expelled?" he scoffed. "Miss Granger, have you given any thought to a sentence at Azkaban prison?"
She flinched, and her eyes flickered to the storeroom. He didn't need Legilimency to know what she was thinking.
"Don't," he said, "you'd never reach your wand."
Her body coiled; she looked as if she were about to scream. He paused for a moment, and then put his concerns aside. The most memorable lessons were taught in abject terror.
"Imagine," he said nastily, "the many wizards and witches at the Ministry of Magic who would like to see you, Albus Dumbledore's great symbol of muggleborn achievement, in the cell beside Lucius Malfoy?"
"No," she choked out, "please..."
"No, is it? Well, if you handle your future... endeavors this sloppily, you can be certain that's where you'll end up."
A look of hope came into her eyes at his phrasing. "I'm not -- there won't be any future endeavors, sir!" she said, looking very earnest.
"So you've given up?" he sneered.
"No! -- but, sir, I can't."
"Can't? What can't you?" he pressed.
"Hurt people," she whispered.
"And are you ashamed of that?" he asked, leaning close.
"Yes, sir."
He pulled back. "Don't be," he said plainly. "Leave the brutality to the brutes," he said, and added, as if sharing a secret, "There are wiser methods for accomplishing your goals, girl."
She looked surprised at his change in demeanor.
"This should be simple for someone of above average intelligence," he continued, "which I had thought you possessed. Was I mistaken?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Come now, self-effacement doesn't suit you, Miss Granger. What have you deduced from this conversation?"
"That I'm not going to Azkaban," she ventured warily.
"That should have been blatantly obvious for some time now. What else?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Then you would do well to listen carefully," Severus said, ordering this thoughts. "Revenge must be approached with great care; any action taken should not be, as yours were, an irrational outburst."
She sat on the stool in the dim light. Her forehead was creased, and her face had the particular expression she wore during a class. He felt for an instant as if he were giving a speech to first year students.
"You must not rely on memory charms. If you intend to keep secrets, study Occlumency. There are several texts on the subject, and Mr. Potter should be able to teach you their practical implementation," he smirked, "that is, if the Headmaster ever manages to successfully hammer it into that boy's head."
He waited a moment for her to object on the boy's behalf; when she didn't, he let the smirk drop.
"Never hex a Wizard unless you're prepared to kill him," he said gravely, and narrowed his eyes. "Don't expect your future quarry to be as charitable as I."
She looked a little sick to hear it in those terms.
"And with regards to me; you've had your pound of flesh. If you want more, turn your mind to points two and three, and realize that next time I will be prepared," he said harshly. "Whilst I do recognize your right to recompense, I cannot allow you to imperil a vital source of information to the Order," he gave her a significant look. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," she said, looking overwhelmed.
"Good. Go and collect your wand," he said, stepping aside.
When she came to the classroom door, he called out to her. She stilled, but did not turn to face him. He was rather glad she hadn't. He felt suddenly ill.
"I am sorry," he said, "for your loss."
A shuddering sigh went through her, and her shoulders drooped. She stood a long moment in the torchlight, letting the silence speak for her.
-END-
I'm greedy for constructive criticism. If you enjoyed the story, please oblige me. Random thoughts are also welcome.
Author's notes: I owe thanks to OzRatBag2 for her beta work, Snapdragongrrl for polishing the grammar and gaius_valerius for helpfully composing two Latin spells for this chapter. Without them this story would have been incalculably impoverished.
I am in the process of writing a sequel to Answers tentatively titled Recompense. However, because I am a slow writer, I don't intend to post the sequel until the majority of it is finished. It's going be a long while between updates.
