Hermione awoke the next morning exhausted but elated. She loved Snape. She hated Malevich. She finally felt sure of herself. But how to tell Snape? That was a problem. Snape would not want to see her again. Well nothing would change if she stayed in bed.

As she entered the Gryffindor common room, she found Harry and Ron waiting for her. They both had concerned expressions on their faces.

"Are you ok, Hermione? I know you've been through a lot lately. You could probably get McGonagall or Pomfrey to get you out of class," Harry offered.

"No, all I need is more detention," replied Hermione, half sarcastically.

"You could take one day off. You look like you haven't slept in days." Ron for once had a point. She hadn't been sleeping much.

"I'll talk to McGonagall about it." Hermione couldn't let them know how grateful she would be for a day to herself.

Snape was worried when Hermione had not shown up for class. He was afraid that she had gone to the Headmaster and that he would lose his job. He was afraid that he had hurt her. Not that he could ask after her in class. To show any concern for a student! His image would be ruined. So he ignored the empty bench in front of him and turned to the class.

"Snape is in a right foul mood today. Wonder why?" Ron muttered to Harry.

"Dunno. Maybe it's because no one can answer his questions because Hermione and Malevich aren't here."

"No talking!" Snape had restored Harry and Ron as lab partners, but he was seriously reconsidering. Still, even though they were together, their potions were better.

"No detention? Weird." Ron made a last comment before returning to his potion.

The room was silent until a knock came at the door. "Enter," barked Snape.

The third year who crept in was obviously intimidated. "I have a message from Professor Dumbledore, sir." She tiptoed up to the desk and gingerly held out the piece of paper to Snape, who took it, afraid of what was inside.

"Well, what are you waiting for? You are dismissed." The girl practically ran out of the room.

Snape opened the letter. It read:

Dear Professor Snape,

If you would be so kind as to come to my office at 8 o'clock tonight, it would be appreciated. There is a matter I need to discuss with you.

Yours truly,

Albus Dumbledore

Snape didn't know whether to be apprehensive or relieved. Dumbledore knew everything that happened at Hogwarts. Did he know what had been said to Hermione? The message hadn't given any hint as to what Dumbledore wanted from him. He put the matter from his mind. He would worry about what to do when he found out what Dumbledore wanted.

"Ah, Severus, you have arrived just on time," Dumbledore greeted him as he entered the office.

"Good evening, Headmaster." Snape was courteous, but not inclined to be long.

"Severus I have a mission for you. It will require you to take the rest of the week off and part of Christmas break as well."

Even as his thoughts jumped to Hermione and how she would feel knowing that he was gone, he replied "Of course, Headmaster. What do you need me to do?"

"I feel that it would be better for Mr. Malevich to return to his home than to stay here. I think he will heal better at home than in a strange place, but it is especially out of concern for Miss Granger."

Snape looked up, surprised.

Dumbledore continued, apparently not noticing Snape's reaction. "Since the night of the accident Miss Granger has not been well. Although she is not physically sick, she is suffering from something and Professor McGonagall, with my permission, has granted Miss Granger some time to herself."

That was why Hermione had not been in class. She deserved some time off.

"I would like you to escort Mr. Malevich to his home, see that he is taken care of, and explain the accident to his relatives. Assure them that Hogwarts has and will continue to do its best for him."

"Of course, Headmaster. I will be ready to leave tomorrow morning."

"Thank you Severus. I knew that you would oblige me."

Snape returned to his own office. He would not be seeing Hermione until after Christmas, but she hated him anyway. It was better this way. He shouldn't love her. It was improper. Some time away from Hogwarts would clear his mind.

Hermione returned to her normal classes the next day. She felt much better, especially since McGonagall had told her that Malevich was returning home. She was glad that she would not have to see him again. Nevertheless, she was apprehensive about seeing Snape in Potions. How could she sit right in front of his desk? She loved him, but he would hate her. She asked Harry and Ron to go in first and ask Snape if she could sit in the back. Not fully understanding, they agreed, and even though they didn't want to ask favors of Snape, she had been getting a lot of detentions from Snape.

No sooner had they walked in, but they stuck their heads back out into the hallway where Hermione was waiting. "Hermione! Snape's not here, it's a substitute."

"What!" Hermione couldn't believe what she had heard. Snape wasn't teaching? Snape never missed classes. Surely he wouldn't miss one because of her—yet, when she walked in, a woman sat primly in Snape's chair.

"Good afternoon class." That voice was familiar. "I will be your substitute for this week while Professor Snape is away. He had an emergency family affair."

"I didn't know Snape had any family, much less people he cared about," muttered Harry.

"Oh, shush, Harry. What do you know?" Hermione had almost got it.

"This week we will be covering medicinal potions, and—"

"Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione hadn't recognized her without her mediwitch uniform.

"Yes dear?"

"Er, I didn't know we were going to be studying medicinal potions, so I haven't done the reading," Hermione concluded lamely.

"Well that's all right, dear. Professor Snape left in a hurry so he didn't leave me a syllabus. I thought we would take a nice break from your books and learn about some potions that you have taken after your various accidents."

Snape left in a hurry? And he didn't prepare anything for us to do? This is very unlike him. Hermione was not quite sure what to make of this new change in Snape.

"Why can't she be our regular teacher?" Ron wondered.

"What, and have Snape be the mediwizard?" Harry sniggered.

Hermione glared at both of them. "You'd think that you two would want to know about some of these seeing as how you both have had your share of time in the hospital wing."

Without the usual stress of Snape's last minute potion tests before break, the term ended rather quietly. Hermione had learned quite a bit from Madame Pomfrey, but although it was a welcome relief from work, it was not the same as having Snape as her teacher. As harsh as he could sometimes be, at least he treated them like adults; Madame Pomfrey treated them like sick 6-year-olds.

Meanwhile, Snape had left Hogwarts early with Malevich, who had calmed down considerably since finding himself in the hospital wing and knowing that he was being sent back home. Nevertheless, his eyes narrowed as he saw who would be in charge of him. As much as he had played the perfect Slytherin to make Snape like him, Snape did not trust him for some reason he did not know—yet Snape did seem familiar somehow.

Snape had felt that Malevich was looking at him, trying to place him, but he did not enlighten him. The time would come when Malevich would learn who he was. For now Snape was content to feed Malevich the Unnamed Potion that he had stowed among the potions Madame Pomfrey had given him to keep Malevich calm. He had planned to return Malevich to his family an empty shell. He wanted the Mr. Malevich to feel the rage of his family, just as his sister had. He wanted their pride and joy, the one sane member of the family in generations, to become less than the worst of them. He wanted to destroy Malevich to avenge his sister.

When he wasn't thinking about Malevich, Snape's thoughts returned to Hermione. He knew her to be a rational girl, one of the few at Hogwarts. She rarely acted without thinking. Her rejection would be absolute. She would not want to see him again. Yet her words returned to him, haunted him. "I could never love you, not even respect you. I despise you!" Hermione was one of the few who might have appreciated his abilities as a wizard. He sighed. Everyone else avoided him. Hermione had not been afraid of him. She had reason to dislike him, he reasoned. He had been very strict with Harry, but it was only for the boy's good. Couldn't he see that? And he had to favor the Slytherins. How would it look if the famed, possible ex-Death Eater started chastising the Slytherins as they deserved? Not that they were true Slytherins. Real Slytherins were more cunning, more ambitious. Many of those in his House were just stupid, vindictive, and mean. A Slytherin should not be that obvious. Yet he had to tolerate it or lose any influence he had over his students.

Snape was left to such thoughts more and more throughout the journey to Russia. As Malevich consumed more potion, he became more and more forgetful. Even for someone who disliked conversation in general, Snape wished that Malevich was a little more responsive just to break the tedium of his own thoughts. He could tell that Malevich was close to losing his identity.

Remembering his sister, Snape mechanically measured out the potion for the young Russian to drink. Yet as he reached for the bottle one night, he noticed a small crystal bottle. The light from his wand reflected through the many-faceted exterior. He stood for some time transfixed by the colors swirling within. Like an opal, or a rainbow contained within water, the greens and golds swirled with the indigo and purple, warmed by the red and orange, with a rosy tinge of pink balanced by a clear blue. An Identity Potion. It was unused, still full of possibility—

Malevich made an indistinct noise and Snape jumped. Woken from his reverie, he shook his head. He knew what he had to do.

Snape arrived at the Malevich Mansion with young Mr. Malevich in tow. Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

A suspicious dark head poked out and glanced all around before cracking open the rusty door just wide enough to admit Snape and his charge. A small group of dark-haired people in a dusty hall greeted Snape once his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

"Aleksei!" cried one, stepping forward. He turned toward her, not recognizing her.

"Madame, I must inform you that Mr. Malevich has suffered an unfortunate accident while at school. He may not be himself for some time. However, I wish to assure you that Hogwarts will do everything to assist you in caring for him."

"You!" A burly man turned on Snape. "What did you do to him? You're like her. The one who found us! Why are you here?"

Snape had begun to sweat slightly. "I assure you that I have only brought your youngest relative back to you. Nothing more."

"Hm." The man turned to the dark-haired boy next to Snape. "Aleksei! Aleksei Malevich! Can you hear me? What has he done to you?"

An even, but empty voice echoed through the silence. "I am not Aleksei Malevich."

Shrieks filled the hall, but the voice grew stronger. "I am not Aleksei Malevich."

Snape could feel the anger and tension building in the room, but he was not prepared for the commanding voice that cut through the chaos. "We will begin early. They will be the first!"

There was a momentary pause and then the room burst into flames. Snape had to shield his eyes from the heat of dragon fire emanating from the people in front of him. When he could open his eyes again the hall was cold and empty with a black scorch mark in the middle of the floor.

"The young boy next to him stepped into the center of the mark and said, "I am not Aleksei Malevich. I am Felix Yusupov." The ash at his feet lifted from the floor in a ring and burst into a thousand glittering pieces.

Snape merely looked at him and nodded. He left the boy standing alone, framed by the cold grey light of a Russian winter, protected by the green warmth subtly emanating from him.