A/N: Phew, I'm beginning to think I underestimated my plot bunnies. They're getting vicious! Anyway, here's the third chapter, as usual reviews are welcome. :)

Chapter 3: Confrontations

Brilliant, just absolutely brilliant. As if he didn't have enough on his plate already, the Watchers' Council just absolutely had to name him the Watcher to the new Slayer, didn't they? He figured it was probably the old farts' way of avoiding the tedious process of having to nominate candidates for the post and putting them through a series of nerve-wracking tests before finally deciding on one. After all, as Albus Dumbledore had pointed out, he was closer to the new Slayer than any of the other members of the Council.

Merlin, how he hated those twinkling eyes. He could have sworn that it increased threefold when the old man had brought up that fact.

Despite his ire at life in general, he couldn't help but wonder who his charge was. The Headmaster had been tight-lipped about it and simply told him to find out for himself, which explained his current predicament.

He had been waiting in the darkened classroom for the better part of an hour, and was just on the verge of leaving when she of the bossy demeanour and insufferable know-it-all ways came in calling for the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

His lip curled in a disdainful sneer. The girl probably had some question she would lose sleep over if she did not put it across to the teacher. Hoping to give her a good scare, he had stolen up behind her like he had surprised so many students out after curfew before. He did not expect her to hear him.

Oh well, at least he still had the element of intimidation on his side. Drawing himself up (a pretty foolish move, considering the fact that the shadows hid his actions completely), he had demanded the reason for her unwelcome presence.

She took a step back. "Professor...Snape?"

"No, Miss Granger." The bite of sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable. "It's Nicholas Flamel. For the last time, why are you here?"

"I don't know." She sounded and seemed genuinely confused as she looked around. "I received a note from Professor Dumbledore with directions leading here. I was under the impression that I would be meeting...someone."

The candles flared to life in their holders at his muttered command, and she could see him raise a contemptuous brow. "Oh? And pray tell, who is that someone?"

"I-I'm not at liberty to say, sir." She cringed inwardly and braced herself for his reaction.

Sure enough, he did not disappoint. "Indeed? And why is that?" He advanced on her, taking a sort of perverse pleasure in the way she backed away.

"I...I—" Her mind whirled. Half of her screamed at her to simply come clean, while the other half told her not to rise to the bait. Both factions had a brief but furious tussle before the former triumphed. "I am t-to meet my Watcher, sir."

He froze mid-step. "Meet your—what?" Had he heard correctly, or were his ears playing tricks on him? Did the brat just say 'Watcher'?

Apparently regaining her wits, she stood a little straighter. "My Watcher, sir." Oh, so his ears were not deceiving him. She had indeed uttered that 'W' word.

Oh no. This was all a bad joke. It had to be. He was supposing to be Watching this Gryffindor brat? Merlin, Morgana and Circe! Are the fates conspiring against him or what? Amid the chaos of disbelief and denial in his mind, he grasped desperately at a strand of logic. "Give me that note, Granger."

She watched quietly as he produced his wand from his sleeve and ran some spells over the parchment. His reactions to her reply had been unexpected; for a moment there, she could have sworn he sounded surprised.

"Well, it certainly is authentic," he announced grudgingly at last.

She took it back gingerly, as one do when dealing with a displeased snake. "Thank you, Professor. I'll just go now." She turned towards the door, eager to be out of his sight as soon as possible.

"If memory serves me, you mentioned you were to meet your Watcher here."

She half-turned. "Yes, but...he or she doesn't seem to be here."

"Come now, Miss Granger." His tone had taken on its accustomed acerbity. "It cannot be that difficult to deduce the answer."

Abruptly, the fog of incomprehension lifted from her mind, as though blown away by a strong wind. "You...you are my Watcher?"

"So it would seem." Correctly interpreting her silence, he added, "I am just as happy as you are about it, Granger."

She managed to make it to the nearest desk before her knees gave out. "You have got to be kidding."

"I hardly think this is an appropriate time for childish practical jokes, Miss Granger."

"There has to be a mistake somewhere."

"My thoughts exactly." Merciful heavens, he was actually agreeing with her. The shock must have addled his brain. At least that was what he told himself.

"Professor Dumbledore will know."

"I surmised as much," he forced out through clenched teeth.

"Then what are we waiting for?" In an odd moment of synchronisation, they had both moved towards the door. Of course, it was designed to accommodate the girth of an average man, so they found themselves crashing into each other none too gently.

"After you, Miss Granger," the teacher said exasperatedly. Silencing her protests with one of his legendary glares, he added, voice slicing through the air like a well-honed razor, "Now!"

Sneering as she obeyed, he followed her down the deserted hallway. Though he was as confused as she was, he was glad to see he still retained some semblance of his wits. Upon reaching the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office, he gave the password, and the doorway appeared.

The revolving staircase ground into motion the moment they set foot on its steps. He could feel her fidgeting all the way up to the door.

She had shattered all preconceived notions he had of a Slayer. He had expected one to be tall, slender, and perhaps a redhead, the colour of her hair reflecting a fiery nature. Of course, redheads were rare in the wizarding world, and the first girl that came to mind gave him shudders. (A/N: Guess who:P) But that was beside the point.

She...well, was the exact opposite of everything he had imagined. Brown hair, average height, and much too bookish to be much of a fighter. Perhaps she could simply bore a vampiric adversary into staking himself by reciting the twelve uses of dragon blood and the recipe for the Draught of the Living Death. The thought made him smirk.

"Come in," called the Headmaster as he raised his fist to knock, making him scowl. The old man did like throwing people off balance with that trick of his.

"Professor?" He looked down to see the girl's face turned up to his questioningly. Grimacing, he motioned for her enter first. Gods help us, he thought wearily as he shut the door behind him. There's that infernal twinkle again.

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, smiling benignly at the unlikely pair that had just stepped into his office. In a deceptively innocent tone, he asked, "Children, what brings you here?"

"You know very well yourself, Albus," the younger man snapped irritably. "Why did you send the note directing Miss Granger to the Dark arts classroom.?" Beside him, Hermione looked scandalised at his disrespect, but wisely bit her tongue.

Dumbledore simply raised his brows. "Why?" he echoed. "The Slayer has to meet her Watcher, doesn't she?" Gesturing to the overstuffed chairs before the desk, he added, "Please, take a seat."

Hermione moved to comply, while Snape stubbornly remained standing, glaring furiously at him. "Albus, what are you playing at?"

"This is not a ruse. Severus."

For the first time in her life, Hermione was treated to the sight of her Potions Master at a loss of words. "She's—she's the Slayer? Oh Merlin. Albus, it has to be a mistake. I can't have a Gryffindor for a Slayer!"

He simply let him splutter himself into silence before clasping his hands before him. "You can, and you will," he replied gently but firmly. "Hermione Granger is undoubtedly the Slayer, and the Watcher's Council has placed the sacred duty of guiding her on you. I can assure the both of you that there is no mistake."

Snape glared at him for a couple of moments before all the fight seemed to go out of him. Sinking into the remaining chair, he buried his head in his hands. "Tell me this is a dream, Albus. Tell me all of this is just a really bad nightmare and I will be waking up in a minute." The quiet pleading in his words was evident, and Hermione felt a pang of sympathy for the man sitting beside her.

His employer's eyes were kind as he reached across and patted his black-clad shoulder. "Look on the bright side, Severus."

Hermione had to look down to hide a smile at his words. As far as her (thankfully) limited encounters with Professor Snape went, the words 'Severus Snape' and 'optimist' were just as synonymous as 'Hell' was with 'freezing'. His next words gave her thoughts more than sufficient affirmation.

"Where's the bright side?" he all but snarled at Dumbledore, his composure apparently regained. "Here I am, minding my own business, and the bloody codgers at the Council take it into their demented minds to saddle me with a Slayer who just had to be Harry Potter's sidekick—" he continued in that vein for the next ten minutes or so, until Hermione finally lost her patience.

"Excuse me, Professor." He didn't seem to hear her over his own ranting, or ignored her, so she tried again in a much louder voice, "Professor Snape!"

Shocked into silence, he shot her one of his most venomous glares, but she was undeterred. "I'm not any happier than you are about this arrangement, and complaining about the unfairness of it all won't change anything; therefore I think that it would be a great deal more productive if we were to devote our energy and time to our allotted duties rather than sit around and wallow in self-pity."

He had been equal parts incensed and amazed by her monologue, but of course, she didn't have to know that. Lifting his chin, he looked down his nose at her and sneered, "Thirty points from Gry—"

"Severus." The quiet utterance of his name brought him up short. "Miss Granger is right. Grousing about it will accomplish nothing. You have been brought together by circumstances beyond your control, and have your individual roles to play. Roles that may affect the outcome of the war."

"I do not think staking vampires has anything to do with the dark Lord, Albus."

"As you and I are well aware of, a Slayer is not merely responsible for the extermination of vampires, but also other Dark creatures."

"As much as I'm tempted to see the Dark Lord as a beast, I am fairly certain he is still classified as a man, regardless of the gross amount of injustice he does to the term."

Dumbledore sighed at his deliberate obtuseness and turned to Hermione, who was feeling very left out indeed, since she had not been able to get in a word edgewise besides her brisk admonishment to Professor Snape. "It's getting late, Miss Granger. Perhaps you would like to return to your rooms?"

She was about to protest when she caught the meaningful look he was sending her way. "Oh yes. Good night, Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape.". Rising, she disappeared from the office as quickly as was humanly possible.

The next morning, his curt note arrived via Floo in her room. It told her to go to his office after dinner that evening in the barest minimum of words, a feat she supposed only he could achieve.

She had a shrewd idea the Headmaster had, in all probability, gave her Watcher a severe talking-to, and ordered him to treat her as he would one of his Slytherins. Grimacing at the thought, she incinerated the short message with a poke of her wand and went down to breakfast.

"Morning Hermione. How's your head?"

She looked blank for a moment before remembering her alibi for the previous evening. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine now, thanks."

"Here's your homework." Harry pushed a piece of parchment towards her. "We stopped by last night, but Malfoy said you weren't in, and we didn't trust him enough to leave it with him. Were you in the Hospital Wing?"

"Yeah." She was thankful for the proffered excuse. Nodding her gratitude, she tucked the parchment into her bag with a cursory glance, beginning to eat from the plate of scrambled eggs and bacon they had saved for. If she was to meet Snape after dinner, she might as well make the most of her day in case he decided to put her out of her misery. My, my, aren't I getting morbid at the ripe old age of seventeen? she thought sardonically.

"Morbid? Why?" Harry asked.

She realised, much to her chagrin, that she spoken aloud. "Nothing, just a random thought." Hey, I am becoming good at this.

"Dare I ask?"

"Your limited brain cells will be fried trying to comprehend it," she jibed glibly, choosing to fall back on dry humour to cover up her blunder.

"Oh?" Ron had joined in the conversation. "Try us, won't you?"

"I'd rather not. Your mum will come after me if I give you permanent psychological trauma."

A flurried exchange of good-natured barbs ensured, and the moment was forgotten. Yet the guilt lingered. Soon, she promised herself. I'll tell them, just not now. Soon.

The problem was, how soon was soon?

A/N: Please don't kill me for making Snape her Watcher! I just thought it would be interesting. And I hope he was in character here, cos I try real hard to keep them the way the esteemed JKR conceived them.

A few comments:

Angel-wingzz: Actually, it was not a conscious act on my part. But yeah, I guess it's Giles. Here's the identity of her Watcher, and I hope you're fine with it.

mira: Don't twirl around so much, you're making me dizzy. Besides, you might fall :P

Hayley: I'm so terribly sorry, but I don't use ICQ. Perhaps you can give me the URL in your review? I really want to have a look at it. Again, sorry (sheepish face)