The most obvious conflict was in her waking hours. She was not privy to anything that had transpired really. Every time he tried talking to her, she couldn't sit for more than a minute without bounding around and fetching something for him or saying something to comfort him. Had his mind really been as unfocused as she made it seem? His wants and desires, no matter how trivial danced throughout his mind with such whimsicality it seemed. She had fetched him a tumbler of whiskey, something he had known he wanted, but then she also started the fire for him, something he hadn't realized he wanted, until he could feel the welcome warmth on his legs as he sat with her.

After rising from her third consecutive elongated slumber, it was apparent to both that this situation had to be properly sorted out. He would have to, in a sense, use the curse as a way to combat the curse, quite an ingenious piece of thinking, in his opinion.

"Miss Granger, it is of the utmost importance, you listen to me now."

It was strange to see her tuck herself in to his worn and favorite chair, in his study. But finally, she was quiet and listening.

"Miss Granger, the school is not the same as it once was. I am headmaster now-"

She looked quite shocked to hear it. He ignored it.

"It is not safe for you here, but it is not safe for you anywhere else. I need you to promise me, under no circumstances, will you leave my study unless I have told you otherwise, with speech."

"What about Harry? And Ronald?" she asked quietly. "Oh! I'm sorry! I won't ask about them!"

The professor winced as his own personal qualms limited the girl once again. But truly, he wasn't ready to tell her about her friend. It would make her condition much worse. She was dressed in some transfigured clothes and an old robe of his that was much too big on her. She had rolled the sleeves up to make use of her hands as she twirled the sashes around like a distracted child. He suddenly felt very unjustified, angry that the girl had to suffer in such a way. She was really only a child.

"You may make use of my library Hermione, in fact I must command you do so, please feel free to make use of everything at your disposal. The house elves will bring you anything else you might need."

There were so many words unsaid between them and he felt it unfinished. There was no proper explanation, no exact way to explain things because he could not know the bonds between master and servant. It was always different. And she was no servant of his so when she poured the tea service for him and added only a splash of milk, just as he liked it, there was no way to explain to her why she had known that, how she could have possibly known that. And she looked defeated all the same with every action she made and every word she said, as if she was fighting it from the inside out.

"Take your tea." He said rather uncomfortably, and she did so. "It is the first day of school today."

"Professor." It was a soft utterance, one he would have barely heard if not for the dead silence of his study. It was broken with choked tears and her hands dropped the cup of tea to hold her face, the liquid staining and spreading in to the burgundy carpet.

"Miss Granger, please don't cry." He said rather unfeelingly, trying his hardest to sound empathetic. But she did not stop, her tears coming harder with the sound of his voice. Her back doubled over under the weight of her grief. He sat there, uncertain, the tea service between them, not untouched by her.

But as he hoped, despite his qualms about disallowing her emotion, that she would stop crying, her despair only increased as if in complete defiance of him. The past day washed over her like torpedoed rainfall and as Severus Snape, her bounder and her fellow accursed failed in every attempt to comfort her, he realized, with almost mounting joy, that she would not stop crying.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The Carrows sat on either side of Headmaster Severus Snape, proudly looking down at the darkened mass of students. There were a hundred or so littered at the four tables, the numbers dwindling drastically as word spread about the new administration and the denial of education to muggle born wizards. Alecto had already set fire to several portraits, things, people in the wake of her stay, the true mastermind of evil between the pair. A young Ravenclaw boy held his arm to his chest, the burn on his wrist courtesy of the cow. It was her, the potions master worried most about as she stared down at the few children left, as if they were laboratory rats. She had the misfortune of taking all the unfeminine qualities of her father – squared jaw, primal features, she looked considerably older than her brother. Amycus, on his other hand, had been little threat so far.

The rest of the staff, what was left, sat quietly on either side of him. There would be no welcome speech, no sorting hat, there were only two first years and they were permitted to sit wherever they chose. Severus Snape could not imagine a more dismal sight and the coming year felt like the heaviest of burdens. Whatever of traditions now that the situation was as it was?

Alecto put one unfortunately thick hand over his and he could feel the unnaturally sweaty heat of her eagerness.

"Severus, this will truly be the golden age of Hogwarts, with you as headmaster." She feared him, that much he had in his good fortune. He did not pull away from her, the act too explanatory. If this woman were to find out about the young witch in his rooms there would be incalculable damages. He would have to play his act even better now, to save her life as well.

"Yes Alecto, it has finally come at last."

Her face split in to a smile of mismatched teeth as he bestowed these new attentions on her. He silently looked over the abysmal number of extremely quiet students and thought about the girl again.

She hadn't stopped her wailing for some time, he had done everything to encourage it, had even resorted to commanding her immediate halt. But his temper had only fueled her discontent. It was only when he realized her active defiance of him, so unlike it, that he ceased his chastisements of her person. What could it mean, for her to be able to deny him like this? He wasn't angered by its outcome, in fact he was very pleasantly surprised by it, but trepidation faltered his emotions. Were there limits to this curse? If there were, he was worried what other clauses it might hold. He would have to sort this all out and properly research her predicament despite his previous misgivings.

Alecto kept her hand on the headmaster's for as long as she dared and then retreated. Her sense of entitlement was a false friend and it only reared its ugly head with those she deemed lesser than herself. Subsequently, he was brought out of his thoughts about the girl and back to the reality in front of him. There was a fleeting sense of preeminent failure from the dais.