\\/

"What are you writing Hermione?"

Hermione looked up from her little blue notebook to see Arabel staring at her from across the dormitory. It was early in the morning and chilly in the dungeons, and Hermione had a snuggly emerald shawl she had found in her new wardrobe wrapped around her shoulders.

"Just some notes on the spells McGonagall was talking about yesterday," Hermione lied easily. "Thought they could be adjusted for more...interesting purposes."

Arabel nodded and accepted that without comment, rising from her bed and heading to the bathroom. Hermione kept her eyes fixed on Arabel's retreating back until she was out of sight, and then bent her head back to the page. She picked up her quill again.

I don't remember an Arabel Selwyn. That must mean she didn't become a death eater. I wonder why, when all of her friends did.

Hermione paused, trying to think. But it was no good - there was no mention in her future of Arabel. Moving onto an easier prospect, Hermione began to write everything she remembered about Alecto Carrow.

She had purchased the little blue book at Hogsmeade the previous day, with her meagre supply of galleons that Dumbledore had warned her needed to last the year. It was small, royal blue, and charmed not to open for anyone except her. Hermione had added a few rather nastier curses for anyone who tried. She had been rather alarmed to find that a few weeks into term her memories of people were already becoming mixed up with the people she was meeting now. So she had resolved to write down every scrap of information about everyone she remembered, and then draw out a linear map of the first Wizarding war.

Already she had done the Marauders, several members of the first Order of the Phoenix, and her closest housemates. Really, Hermione mused. It's very lucky I was so interested in history.

With a snap, she closed the little notebook and stowed it under her pillow. There would be time for more later.

\\/

"Good morning class!" Professor Slughorn smiled genially around the potions classroom. "I hope you all enjoyed your Hogsmeade weekend. Today I would like to see you all create an Eye-Changing Elixir, incorporating the conclusions you formed in your essays on powder-based potions last week. You should find the instructions on page 67 of your potions book. Begin!"

Hermione glanced around the classroom, her eyes immediately landing on Snape. It was the first time she had seen him since the Hogsmeade incident. When she asked Rabastan where he was, the boy had shrugged and said that Snape never spent much time with his house, and definitely wouldn't want to see them. Thinking of the Snape she had known, Hermione had to agree.

The pale, greasy teenager was sitting in a corner of the room at his usual workbench, looking even sourer than usual. When Slughorn stopped talking he had the fire lit beneath his cauldron before anyone else had moved. Then he stood, pushing past Alecto and heading for the store cupboard. Hastily Hermione rose to her feet and followed him. They met in front of the store cupboard at exactly the same time.

"Please, you first," Hermione gestured to Snape. He eyed her distrustfully, and then began gathering together his supplies.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked quietly. Snape froze, and then whipped his head around to glare at Hermione.

"Fine," he hissed.

"You got the boils fixed?" Hermione queried, wondering why she was bothering. Snape shot her another death glare.

"I didn't need you there. You shouldn't have interfered."

"Didn't need help?" Hermione snapped as quietly as she could. "Well it sure didn't look that way to me."

"Leave me alone," Snape hissed viciously. He turned and stormed back to his desk, and Hermione grimaced.

"What did you expect?" Hermione turned to see Alecto standing at her shoulder, looking into the store cupboard. "Nobody likes feeling weak."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Alecto with interest, who shrugged. "Think about it," the shorter girl mumbled, before heading back to her desk.

Once she had all her ingredients assembled, Hermione began carefully slicing up her pixie skin into thin strips. She concentrated all her energy on making sure each ingredient was prepared absolutely perfectly to the best of her ability, and that all of her tools were uncontaminated. This time her potion had to be perfect.

"Wonderful!" Professor Slughorn said, gazing into Hermione's cauldron at the end of the lesson. "Excellent attempt! Do pay attention Miss Carrow, Miss Black really has quite the grasp of potions."

Hermione couldn't help a small smile escaping. "Thank you sir," she demurred.

Hermione couldn't resist sliding her eyes across the room to Snape. He was looking away, his expression distinctly disgruntled, and although she knew it was petty to feel so competitive with her former potions master, Hermione couldn't help a slight feeling of triumph.

But when Slughorn reached Snape's cauldron he beamed again. "Inspired, Severus! Absolutely inspired. Did you add the hemlock to stabilize the tendency to curdle?"

"And to improve the taste," Snape said, his lips quirking incongruously. Although he wasn't looking in her direction, Hermione felt that it was directed at her.

"What an invention," Slughorn said proudly, before moving on. Hermione slid her books back into her bag in an ill temper. She should have remembered that Snape had a tendency to alter the original recipes. After all, he was the half-blood prince.

\\/

"Black! Hey, Black. Can I have a word?"

A few weeks later at the beginning of a chilly December, Hermione was walking down the corridor alone when she heard the most unlikely person calling her name. She spun around with her wand out and her eyes narrowed, but let her wand fall when she saw who it was. Remus Lupin jogged up to her, panting slightly. He was pale and had dark circles under his eyes, and Hermione winced. This year the full moon fell on the Winter solstice, and they were only few weeks away. The lycanthropy would always be stronger if it landed on a special day.

"What can I do for you Lupin?" Hermione asked, catching herself just in time before she called him Remus.

Remus looked unnerved by her civil tone. "I was hoping I could speak to you privately," the werewolf said, glancing out of the arrow slit windows along the corridor. The snow has arrived, and the grounds were blanketed in a white icy layer.

"Certainly," Hermione said calmly. She had been expecting this much sooner.

"Can we…" Remus trailed off, gesturing to an empty classroom.

Hermione nodded, and followed Remus into the classroom. She noticed the werewolf left a wide berth of space in the doorway before closing the door, and her suspicions erupted. Choosing not to act on them for the moment Hermione waited to hear what Remus had to say. The unused classroom was full of stacked desks, and Hermione pulled out a chair to sit on. Remus chose to stand.

"What can I do for you?" Hermione repeated.

Remus shifted his feet. "I need to know how you found out about my...problem."

"Need to know?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "I thought I already made a deal with Potter to ensure nobody found out."

"You mean blackmailed him," Remus said flatly.

"The situation shouldn't have been necessary in the first place," Hermione countered. "Surely you don't think what was happening was right."

Remus sighed, deflating. "No, I don't think it was right."

"I know. You didn't even have your wand out until we showed up."

"How on earth did you notice that?" Remus said in surprise, perching on the edge of the desk in spite of himself. "It all happened so fast."

"Everything is in the details Lupin," Hermione said calmly, inspecting her nails. "I needed to pay attention to that situation to make sure nobody else got hurt."

"Nobody else got hurt?" Remus blurted out. "You were using dark curses!"

Hermione sighed again. "No I wasn't. "

"Yes you were! I know what a bone-breaking curse looks like, Black."

"Really?" Hermione said slowly. She pulled her wand from her sleeve and polished it on her robes. "You mean like...this?"

Hermione flicked and twirled her wand towards Remus, and focussed on weaving the semblance of a bone-breaking curse around an Expelliarmus. Remus choked and threw himself backwards, but couldn't get out of the way in time. The sickly purple jet of light that resembled the dark curse hit Remus in the chest. The werewolf stared, wide eyed as his wand flew out of his hand and over to Hermione.

"See," Hermione said, neatly catching the wand. "Things aren't always what they seem."

"How did you - what was that?" Remus gasped, staring at Hermione with wide eyes. "I've never even heard of anyone masking one spell with another. Where did you learn that?"

"I invented it," Hermione said simply. It was funny really that Remus should ask where she had learnt that method of spell-casting, considering he had helped her do the research to formulate it. They had spent hours in the Grimmauld place library, searching and searching for something that might help them in the war. Masking spells wasn't life-saving, but it had a whole multitude of uses, and could be reversed. A bone-breaking spell could just as easily be disguised as a harmless Expelliarmus.

"So you weren't really trying to kill us?"

"Oh use your brains Lupin!" Hermione said, exasperated. "If I was trying to kill you then you'd already be dead."

"I don't understand," Remus admitted, shaking his head.

"You don't need to," Hermione said quietly. "But I hope that makes you feel better. Now you know one of my secrets too, so you can be far more sure I won't tell anyone about yours. Will that do for now?"

Hermione stood from the chair and turned towards the door.

"I...wait!"

Hermione half turned, her eyebrows raised. "Yes?"

"You didn't tell me how you found out about my problem. Or why you won't tell anyone. I don't understand why you're doing me a favour, or how you know this in the first place!"

Hermione didn't answer. Instead she closed her eyes and let herself feel for the presence she had sensed in the room. It wasn't difficult when you really got in touch with what a person's mind felt like. It was like a hum of energy concentrated inside a small space, buzzing with life and magic. Hermione focussed until she had pinpointed where the energy was coming from, and then she opened her eyes.

"I told Potter already. I know everything. Right Prongs?"

Hermione flicked her wand absentmindedly, and there was a sudden scuffling in the corner of the room. An invisibility cloak dropped to the floor, revealing a startled James Potter peering at them both. He looked very much like Harry when he wore that slightly bewildered expression, and Hermione felt her heart twist painfully for a moment, before she dropped her mental walls ruthlessly. James picked up his cloak with a scowl, and turned to Remus.

"How did she know I was there?!"

"I don't know," Remus said, frowning, and turning to Hermione. But she had already left the room in a swirl of robes.

\\/

Hermione paced the darkened dormitory ceaselessly. It was late Christmas Eve, and she was the only sixth year Slytherin girl left at Hogwarts. When her companions - she hesitated to refer to people she intended to murder in cold-blood as friends -- had queried why she was not returning home for the holidays, she had claimed that her family were away, conducting private research. It was such an obvious lie that Hermione had no doubt her fellow Slytherins were drawing their own, more nefarious conclusions.

Hermione was restless. It was always a difficult time of year, Christmas. Brought back all sorts of painful memories that wouldn't leave her alone, no matter how much she steeled her mind to their temptations. The earliest years with her parents, coloured with the beautiful naivety of childhood. Then the years with Ron and Harry: Sometimes at the Burrow, sometimes at Hogwarts and sometimes back at home with her parents again. The final years of the war, of course, had not been good memories.

After her parents had died, Christmas has lost all of its joy. Luckily for her, nobody else was taking any joy in it either by then. Both Ron and Harry had lost enough people that they loved that the thought of a joyful celebration was agony to their cold spirits. The date had passed by, unmarked and unmentioned.

Abruptly Hermione turned away from the stone walls and headed for the stairs. At least in the common room there would be a fire, and perhaps a few younger students chattering. Listening to human voices - any human voices - would perhaps make this night more bearable.

But the common room was empty, although a fire crackled merrily in the grate and there was a large, frostily beautiful Christmas tree adorned with silver in the corner of the room. Hermione sighed, defeated and sank into one of the leather chairs by the fire.

"Why are you here?"

Hermione's heart almost leapt out of her chest, and she gasped. Her arm jerked reflexively, sliding her wand from her sleeve into her hand and she had jumped to her feet and fired off a curse before she realised what she was doing. A dull thud alerted her to the fate of the unexpected presence in the room.

"Oh no…"

Hermione hurried across the room, then grimaced as she looked down at the stiff and frozen form of Severus Snape, lying in front of the stairs to the boys dormitory. His eyes moved furiously through the body bind, and she had no doubt that if he could speak he would be spitting expletives.

Quickly Hermione spoke the counter curse, and released Snape from the spell. The teenager jumped to his feet immediately, snarling at her.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

"I'm sorry!" Hermione put her hands up to show she had stowed her wand. "You startled me. It was just a reflex."

Snape glared at her, but looked slightly mollified. "Some reflex," he muttered, pushing past her to sit by the fire.

Hermione eyed him curiously as she retook her seat. She hadn't had much of a chance to observe him at close quarters in the last few weeks, keeping in mind the advice Alecto had given her. But now he was in front of her it was impossible not to scrutinise the boy for fragments of the man she remembered.

Teenage Snape was gawky and awkward, with bad skin and greasy hair. He curled up in his seat by the fire, his arms wrapped loosely around his knees in a pose she could never imagine the older man taking. He wore a constant frown - a comforting and familiar reminder of her old life - and seemed to be developing lines across his forehead at the tender age of sixteen.

All in all, Hermione couldn't say she would have been impressed if she hadn't known what Snape would grow up to be. But she did know, and she couldn't help but stare closely. It seemed so strange, so incongruous that this sulky teenager would become the strongest, bravest man she had ever met. Still, if Hermione had her way he wouldn't have to. Snape deserved a better life this time around too.

"Stop staring at me!"

"Sorry," Hermione said hastily, looking at the fire. "Didn't know I was."

Hermione gazed into the flames for a few moments, watching meaningless shapes swirling through their fiery depths. She was almost hypnotised when, much to her surprise, Snape spoke again.

"Why are you still here?"

Hermione bristled. "I'm a Slytherin too! I have just as much right to be here as you do and -"

"No, I meant why are you still at Hogwarts! You know what? Just forget it."

"Oh. Sorry," Hermione said for the second time that night, flushing. "My family is gone, and I don't know where my relatives are. So it was easier to stay here. You?"

Although it was dim in the room, Hermione saw Snape's expression darken, and she wished she hadn't asked the return question. After all, she knew what his grim, bitter life outside of the castle walls was like. No wonder he didn't like to return home.

"I had to study," Snape said after a moment. Hermione nodded along with the lie. They sat in silence for a few more moments, and Hermione had almost decided to go to bed when she felt herself start speaking again.

"That was a really good idea the other day in potions - to add the mint to the Euphoria Elixir."

Snape started, and he looked very surprised at her words. He eyed her suspiciously for a moment before nodding. "Thanks. Slughorn thought so too."

"What made you do it?" Hermione pressed, unable to help herself. Ever since Harry had arrived in potions class with that ratty old book belonging to the Half-Blood Prince, Hermione had been torn between a mixture of appalled horror, unwilling interest, and envy. But she had never expected the chance to actually discuss the developments and alterations with the man himself.

Snape raised an eyebrow, and looked sceptical for a moment. "A few things."

"Like what though?"

Another eyebrow raise. "You really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Fine. I was looking at Heltric's theories on herbs, and the argument he presented on -"

"The use of muggle herbs in magical brews, in Potions for the Everyday Brewer," Hermione said, nodding eagerly. "Of course. But I don't see how that could have made you decide to combine mint with a base as potentially risky as -"

"Will you let me speak?" Snape scowled, but didn't look too displeased. In fact he looked more like he was reassessing her.

"Sorry," Hermione muttered for the third time.

"As I was saying. I was looking at Heltric's theory, when I realised he hadn't taken into account the way in which the herbs were grown. All of the herbs he studied had been naturally grown in a magical environment to stimulate their growth, in the same way that all mass-produced potions herbs are."

"No," Hermione breathed. "So simple? Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Snape looked rather pleased with himself. "After a lot of experimenting, I realised that when the herbs were grown in an entirely magic-free manner, without any trace of Magical interference, they became much less volatile. It then becomes possible to add them to the brews without potential risk for explosion."

Hermione thought quickly. She had read about the developments in the potions field while she was at Hogwarts for the first time. Her background research had included the relatively useless but still interesting snippet that a few years before she entered Hogwarts, it became mandatory that all muggle herbs for use in potions must be prepared using only muggle means. Snape must have been the one to make that happen.

"Amazing," Hermione breathed. Snape looked rather gratified.

"Maybe not amazing," he allowed, still looking less severe than usual. "But very helpful."

"So you grow your own herbs?" Hermione asked after a moment. "Here?"

"Professor Sprout allows me a corner of the greenhouses," Snape nodded.

Hermione caught her breath. If she could only…

"Could I see?"

Snape eyed Hermione suspiciously, and Hermione wished she hadn't sounded quite so eager. But if all the herbs in the potions store cupboard were substandard compared to Snape's… And if she could actually watch how he prepared them…

"Maybe," Snape allowed after a moment. Hermione thought that was probably the best she was going to get, and grinned triumphantly. She couldn't help herself - the opportunity was to great to pass up. After a moment she let her thoughts drift back to the other potions she had seen Snape make.

"What about the week before the last?" Hermione said after a moment. "That headache draught. Slughorn said he'd never seen anything like it. You can't have just been following the normal instructions."

Snape uncurled his legs from his defensive posture and stretched them out towards the fire, looking more relaxed than Hermione had seen him before. "Well," he began with the self-important voice of a young student attempting to lecture others. It was nothing like his adult teaching voice, and Hermione held back a chuckle. "I started like this…"

The evening passed quickly, and with more pleasure than Hermione would have thought possible. For the first time in forever she felt she was speaking with someone that could really hold their own in the cerebral arena, and it was wonderful to lose herself in the bliss of stimulating argument.

Although several times Hermione and Snape descended into vicious debate - Snape at one point leaving and returning with an ancient copy of a potions text that he slammed down in front of Hermione to prove his point - at no point did either party leave the room. When the clock above the fire chimed midnight, Hermione wished Snape a Happy Christmas. He scowled sourly at her, and continued explaining his theory of elixir degeneration.

In that manner the night passed by until the early hours of the morning, when Hermione finally put her hand up to stem the flow of words, yawning widely.

"I need to get some sleep," she admitted, rubbing her itchy eyes. "But thanks Snape. This has been really interesting."

"Thank you, Black." Snape said after a moment. The lines on his face deepened as he regarded her. "For someone raised away from Hogwarts you know...a passable amount about potions."

Hermione snorted. "Passable? I'll give you a run for your money any day now."

"I look forward to it," Snape said as he stood.

As he left the common room, Hermione smiled faintly to herself.

Yes, he definitely deserves a second chance this time around.

\\/

Thanks for reading,

Cas