Author's note: Before anyone reads this, I'd like to thank those people that reviewed, much appreciated and very encouraging. If anyone has anything to say, I'm always delighted to hear anything. Even flames.

S.J.W – My Pen name is a combination of Jane Austen and Oscar Wilde. Very sorry about grammatical errors, I don't always catch them but I try to avoid them.

Starlight – yes, our dear potions master is thoroughly pissed for exactly that reason…and I believe in this chapter the reasoning behind this is revealed…if you can call it reasoning.

Everything, apart from minor additions here and there, belongs to she who must be deeply respected, JK Rowling. All thanks to her and my computer.

Chapter 3 – In for a Penny…

At dinner Professor Dumbledore officially introduced Professor Daniels to the students who hadn't already had a lesson with her during the day. He made no mention of her previous career or achievements, which didn't seem to bother Professor Daniels in the slightest.

Hermione was also careful to watch Professor Snape's expression toward Professor Daniels. It seemed he was trying not to make eye contact with the woman herself, and wasn't showing any of the usually air of hatred or jealousy. Strangely enough, he looked acceptant. Harry and Hermione discussed this and agreed that all it did was confirm the fact that they were missing something.

Dumbledore continued his speech and mentioned Professor Daniels other responsibilities.

"I have also allowed Professor Daniels to take the new post as Head of Entertainment and Arts at Hogwarts." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with childish delight. "And it is for this reason that this year we will be having a school musical."

The hall erupted into whispers and giggles. Harry and Ron gawped at each other for a moment then began discussing Ron's latent musical tendencies. Hermione chuckled and looked toward the Staff table, where Dumbledore was looking to Daniels, who raised her glass to him with a wink. Snape however, was looking somewhere between mutinous and horrified, as if Dumbledore had said no teacher could take points off Gryffindor ever again.

Dumbledore turned back to the students, signalling to end their chatter.

"Now, this means there will be auditions for any person who wishes to have a performing role in the musical. There are also administrative roles for students above third year and backstage roles such as set design, costume design and so on. Students wishing to have these roles should speak to Professor Daniels personally. Professor Daniels will be directing and auditioning for parts, and these auditions will take place on this coming Saturday. A list will be put up on the school noticeboard for audition times during that day. Any student wishing to audition should write their name beside the time they would like.

"Other than that, I believe the only thing left to be done is eat dinner."

Dinner proceeded as usual, along with the excited babbling about which musical they would be performing and who would get the main roles. Suddenly Quidditch was of little importance. Who could sing and dance was far more important. Hermione however, was not particularly concerned with the musical. She had a reasonable voice, but she had no training, her parents had never bothered with it. She had learned violin for a little while, but she broke the poor instrument while trying to get a Lego piece out of the body. Her parents hadn't replaced it.

She focused her attention to the lesson she was about to have with, she said it to herself once again, Deborah Daniels. She looked up to the Staff table at Professor Daniels' seat, but she was gone. Hermione looked at her watch. Already quarter to eight! Damn, she thought, Professor Daniels had probably left for her office. She wolfed down the rest of her dinner and ran back to Gryffindor tower to collect some books.

By the time Hermione reached Professor Daniels' office, it was five to eight. She stood for perhaps fifteen seconds before Professor Daniels rounded the corner.

"We're early" Professor Daniels said warmly, "aren't we eager?"

Hermione blushed slightly and looked down at her shoes. With a little bit of maturity she had also grown a sort of self-consciousness over her enthusiasm.

"Don't worry, Hermione, I was talking about both of us." Professor Daniels opened her office door and gestured to Hermione to enter.

The first thing that hit Hermione when she entered was books. Floor to ceiling shelves of books, not to mention stacks at practically every wall reaching about chin height. There was also one wall dedicated to paper. Stuck up on a pin board, there were what appeared to be hundreds of pages with symbols and text and pictures all over them. Hermione stared around herself in awe.

"I know, it's only my second day here and I've already made a librarians nightmare." Professor Daniels said almost apologetically as she waved to a seat for Hermione.

"It's fantastic," Hermione whispered in wonder, dawdling across the room.

Professor Daniels chortled as she pointed her wand at the fireplace and a roaring fire exploded into it.

"Well, it suits me," she shrugged as she slid into her seat behind her desk. "Anyway, you don't have to worry about bringing books here, and I won't even hear of giving you homework. Whatever we discuss and whatever you learn here should stay in your mind without a book, otherwise your brain has used it's own mechanism to blank out what it considers unimportant information. I don't even really want you to think of it as a lesson. It'll be…discussion mostly. Perhaps I'll explain things to you, but I'm confident that you'll remember it without the aid of a writing implement. And you don't have to call me Professor here. Most people, except your dear Potions Master, call me Deb. He insists on the whole 'Deborah' as a matter of principle, so that I won't call him 'Sev.'"

"Oh, that reminds me, why doesn't Professor Snape hate you the way he hated all the other Defence against the Dark Arts teachers?"

Professor Daniels grinned for a moment, and then put her feet up on the desk.

"Well, let's have a look at the track record, shall we? Professor Snape is of a rather jealous nature to begin with. Doesn't like people touching his things. He sees this position as his, in a way. So, your first year here you had who?"

"Professor Quirrell."

"Oh yes, the s-s-stutterer that was sharing his body with Voldemort-"

"You said the name!" Hermione whispered.

"Of course I did. The name isn't going to hurt me, especially since it's not really his name. Anyway, Snape probably could feel Voldemort nearby; his Dark Mark probably was a little darker. He also knew Quirrell before the crossing with Voldemort, as did I. didn't come across as one able to withstand much pressure. He just picked what no one could see and kept as quiet as he could because he had no proof and Professor Dumbledore was probably restraining him. Next?"

"Professor Lockhart."

"I hardly need explain that one to you, Next?"

"Professor Lupin."

"Old grudges die as hard as habits. Imagine losing Crookshanks to Draco Malfoy. You'd be annoyed too. Next?"

"Professor Moody. But Snape was more frightened."

"This is understandable. The Auror that questioned him on the night of his return to the Light side. Next?"

"Professor Figg."

"Much the same as losing it to Lupin. An old school grudge. Next?"

"Professor Oryx."

"Snape just thought he was incompetent, I imagine, and thus resented him. And the latest on the list is me. Now he doesn't hate me, and he won't contest my ability to teach this subject because he knows I know about it and he knows while I'm around and Voldemort's still nancying about killing people, he won't get the job."

"Why not?" Hermione asked.

"Because Dumbledore doesn't think it's a good idea for an ex-Death Eater to teach Defence against the Dark Arts until Voldemort is out of the picture. It comes across as very inappropriate, wouldn't you say?"

"I suppose, yes, it's not exactly the epitome of good ethics is it?"

"No, and besides, I've known him since his Death Eater days. But he was softening by the time I met him"

"How did you know him?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Oh it's a grim story, and the answer to your question from yesterday." Professor Daniels sighed. "He came with Lucius Malfoy and those two…what are their names? Lobster and Doily? Anyway, I was seventeen when they came to torture and kill my family, which they did. My parents were Aurors, very good ones too, and so out they went before my eyes. I was in the attic when they came in, so they didn't see me, and I don't think they were looking for me either. But I saw Lucius kill my parents and my thirteen year old brother."

"So that's why you left and wouldn't come back," Hermione concluded.

"Indeed," Professor Daniels nodded, "But that wasn't the end of it. They were also looking for a potions recipe that my family has had for centuries. A healing potion that is irreversible. That is to say, you drink it and you live a healthy person for one hundred and twenty years."

"There's a potion like that?"

"Yes, but it was a family secret. I don't know how they found out about it. Anyway, Severus came looking for it in the attic. I was so scared I forgot to hide, so I was face to face with him before I knew it. He asked for it I gave it to him because I was so scared he'd kill me. He left with it, but he said he'd be back. I can only assume he went out, told the others he had it and to report back to Voldemort and he'd be there soon. He came back, told me he was sorry for killing my parents and that he'd never kill anyone ever again. I told him he hadn't killed anyone, that it was the other masked dude. I told him to go back before they suspected anything, and he said he wanted to repay me for my family. And I told him not to be daft because you can't replace a family. But at some point in the future I'd think of something."

"And did you?" Hermione asked shakily.

"Yes," Professor Daniels laughed, "I decided to hide in the Muggle world, and he paid my university fees."

"Pardon?"

"Well, my parents would've been the ones to do it, so I told him he could do it. In fact, he paid whatever was left after my scholarship, bed and board, and anything else. I lived off him for those years. It was wonderful. Of course I didn't mind, and neither did he. His family has a lot of money, and he's the only child and inheritor, so he did it without blinking, bless him. So now, even if I couldn't earn my own money, I'd have my family's money to support me."

"How can you look at him now?" Hermione asked seriously, "How can you not want to throw him in Azkaban?"

"Because I'm not really in any position to judge him, am I?" Professor Daniels sighed and smiled a weary smile. "I can blame him for someone else's actions as much as I can blame the furniture in the house…and myself. We were all present, watching my family die, but no one stopped it. In truth I may well have stolen his money from him, as I am just as responsible for their death as he is. But he wanted to repent; it made him feel better, so I thought I could at least give him that much relief. He wasn't much older than I was, perhaps a few years."

"Does that mean you went to Hogwarts with him?"

"I would have had I been in the country. Actually I went to school in America, because I was born in Australia and there are no magic schools there. We'd just moved to England because my parents were asked to help with the Voldemort situation."

"How did you cope with your family's death?" it was beginning to sound like an interview.

"You don't want to know that." Professor Daniels said firmly.

"Why not?" Hermione retorted.

"Because then you'll be forced to pity me, and I've had plenty of time to grieve and get over it, so I don't need pity, hence you would waste your energy by pitying me."

"If I promise I won't pity you?" Hermione suggested.

"You can't promise that, really. Alright, fine." Professor Daniels removed her coat to be left in a singlet, and it was immediately clear. Tattoos were trailing up both her arms, splitting at her shoulders to snake up either side of her neck and reach out toward each other on her chest. They were deep black, obviously magically enhanced.

"Oh my!" Hermione said in shock.

"Of course, originally it didn't occur to me to make it decorative. To start with I just cut myself. And because I didn't want people to know, I tattooed over them. Then I realised the pain of the tattooing was just as releasing. So I had them done, and done and done, until I realised I wasn't achieving anything by doing this to myself. And then I cried and cried and cried, and that was it. Of course, that took about a year, so I'm left with a year's worth of tattoos and scars."

"Can't you just magick them away if you don't like them?"

"Of course, but I do like them. That's why I magicked them darker. Anyway, as educational as my life story is, I think we should focus on something slightly more current. That is, unless you have any questions."

"Yes-"

"I should have guessed," Professor Daniels said nodding her head, "Yes?"

"Does Professor Snape know about these?"

"Indeed he does. In fact, he once lost a bet to me, so now he has my surname tattooed on his backside. And before you ask, no he can't magick it away because I put a charm on it that makes it stay for fifty years."

"You're joking!" Hermione said in amazement.

"You and he wish. No, I'm sure it's still there, clear as day. But I don't think he'd show you if you asked."

"I don't want to see." Hermione replied, somewhere between shock and disgust.

Professor Daniels laughed, "It's not that bad really, because it's quite small. But it means that he'll always remember that he's not always right."

"It doesn't seem to help during classes." Hermione said bitterly.

"That's because he's very careful not to think about it during class. If you hinted that you knew, he'd either kill you or his jaw would hit the floor, in which case he'd come right up here and kill me. Or quite possibly all three. But please, for both our sakes, don't mention it. At least, not until I say you can."

"I wasn't planning to." Hermione said earnestly, "actually, I was planning to blot it out of my memory until he decides to be very cruel to me. If he does something like what he pulled today-"

"What did he pull today, pray tell?" Professor Daniels asked.

"He started lecturing me about how I should be honoured and thankful that I'm having lessons with you." Hermione stood up and started pacing angrily. "For Circe's sakes, I'm not bloody stupid! He doesn't have to tell me who you are."

"How was he supposed to know that?" Professor Daniels asked calmly.

"He knows what I'm like. And besides, it doesn't matter, it's not his business. It's not his class so he shouldn't stick his big nose into it!"

"Like I said, Hermione, he's very protective of things he sees to be his. He sees me as something that he is sort of responsible for. He wants me to…you know, be happy, because of previous events. And he wants me to receive what he thinks is my due respect because Lucius Malfoy showed me so little of it. So, in his eyes it is his business, and his duty to ensure my continued comfort and pleasure. I'm yet to convince him that he's being ridiculous, no matter what I say, no matter what I tattoo on his arse. He just won't listen."

Hermione sat down, still slightly annoyed, but also far more understanding.

"He punishes himself quite a bit, doesn't he?" Hermione reflected.

"Well, we all punish ourselves in different ways," Professor Daniels replied, flourishing one arm, "But hopefully he will stop when this Voldemort business is all over. I just worry that he'll be left with nothing at the end."

"How do you mean?"

"Never mind," Professor Daniels said as she put her coat back on, "now let's get down to business."

They spent the evening discussing whether there is another dimension in which magic functions. They hadn't come to a conclusion, but Professor Daniels had stopped the discussion at eleven o' clock, insisting that Hermione needed to sleep more than she needed to argue. Hermione didn't agree, but obeyed all the same. Professor Daniels also told her to audition for the Musical. Hermione didn't know whether she wanted to or not, but agreed anyway.

She thought about their discussion in bed that night. She also thought about Professor Daniels as a seventeen year old, no older than herself. Hermione imagined what she'd do if her parents were killed by Voldemort or Lucius Malfoy. She couldn't imagine herself taking a blade to her own body or getting tattoos, but then she didn't think Professor Daniels would've imagined it either. She fell asleep musing and began to dream.

She dreamt of slightly younger versions of Crabbe, Goyle, Lucius Malfoy and Professor Snape, going to Deborah Daniels' house. A younger Deborah watching them from the trapdoor to her attic. The green flashes of light as her Mother, Father and Brother fell to the ground, lifeless, terror still imprinted on their faces.

Then, completely unbidden, came a picture of Deb's last name tattooed on a pale surface of skin. There was no doubting where this skin was located or who it belonged to, but Hermione smiled and shuddered in her sleep, subconsciously grateful that no one was watching.

When Severus Snape went to breakfast on Friday morning, he cringed to see Slytherin was holding first place at thirty-five points, whereas Gryffindor was sitting on twenty-five. It was the first time in his life that he was upset about Slytherin winning. That woman was the essence of cunning…she should've been in Slytherin.

He saw her sitting at the staff table, grinning intensely at him, ready to inflict herself upon him. He steeled himself and strode to his seat beside her.

"Good morning Professor Higgins!" she said in a scarily passionate tone that carried along the entire staff table.

He knew what she meant the instant it flew out of her mouth. Dumbledore obviously knew too, as his eyes twinkled knowingly and cheekily. Snape kept his head down, looking at his plate.

"No," he said slowly and sourly, "Absolutely not."

"Ah, my dear man, you have no choice. You lost the bet and now you pay the price."

"I don't care. Think of something else," he muttered as he spooned porridge onto his plate, "I won't do that."

"That is your only choice. Do it or I'll play the dead family card."

He clicked his tongue and breathed deeply, trying not to let her get to him.

"I don't care which cards you play…the answer is no."

Deborah leaned in close, so no one could hear her.

"You watched my parents die, Severus," she purred, "the least you can do is follow through on your promises. We shook on it…and besides, you've done more humiliating things."

She sat moved back to normal posture and winked at him.

"You'll have to be at the auditions tomorrow, so we can choose your co-star."

He could see she was enjoying every minute of this.

"You gave Slytherin the extra points didn't you?"

"Hell, yes," She said with a smile, "and now I'm off to be a teacher. Have a nice day, Professor Higgins, I'm sure the students will treat you as well as ever."

And off she went, a spring in her step, no doubt heightened by her latest success over him.

It would be the students, however, who would suffer the consequences. He knew Deborah knew that, but he also knew she was of the opinion that his harshness on them was a lesson to be learned. He believed it too, but maintained that it was more that he hated Gryffindors rather than that he wanted to prepare them for real life and let the Slytherins rot.

He swept out of the Great Hall feeling very peeved indeed, to put it mildly. He wanted to wring her neck out, and hang her out to dry, but he would never do it, not even under threat of crucio. The Granger girl was in more danger of death right now. But the little voice in his head had something to say about that too.

No, she's not Severus. You're never going to lay a hand on another person again. Not out of anger or love.

He squashed the voice and his thoughts as he stormed into his classroom to the great shock and dismay of his new first-years.