AN: Thanks to my reviewers and all loyal readers!

The magical theory on why someone would lose control of his/hers magic in this chapter, is purely from my own imagination. I have tried researching this topic online, but haven't found anything specific. If any of you readers know where I could find this type of information, please let me know. For now, here's how I see it:

Chapter Two

First Lesson

Hermione fidgeted nervously outside the door she knew to be the entrance to Professor Snape's office. What was it about the man that made her so anxious? Maybe it was the fact that he was such a living reminder of the war. Severus Snape had done everything possible to make people believe that his true allegiance was to Voldemort after Dumbledore's death. Hermione did not doubt that all of this had been nothing but a charade – Harry had shared some of the memories that Snape had bestowed upon him, so she knew that Snape had no love for the Dark Lord. Still... Knowing was one thing, but it was one of those things that occasionally could be somewhat difficult to remember and be certain off. Even after the end of the war, when his true loyalties were revealed, he was the same man he had always been – cold, mysterious, distant... And not to forget, Snape had been viscous to her (and everybody else who wasn't in Slytherin) in school. When she thought about, it made more sense to her to be anxious of this man than not to be.

She sucked her breath in, summoned her Gryffindor bravery and knocked on the door.

"Enter," she heard the cold voice of Severus Snape mutter.

He was grading papers at a large desk, the wood so dark it almost looked black. He did not look up when she opened or closed the door, nor did he seem to be in a hurry to acknowledge her presence. She waited patiently, not wanting to do anything that might upset him. She vaguely remembered Harry's catastrophic Occlumency session in his fifth year – she did not want to cause any situation that could cause him throw her out.

"Good, you have a patience," he said suddenly, his tone silky. "You will need that."

Hermione wondered what he meant by that, but still said nothing. His eyes were glued to the paper; he had yet to look at her. She took this moment to glance around the room – she had not really taken much time to look around when she had been in the room in her second year to steal boomslang skin and bicorn horn for the Polyjuice Potion. Just as she remembered, the walls were covered with shelves of large jars made out of glass, containing various potions ingredients that were too precious or dangerous to keep out in the students storage. The room was warm due to the fact that the fireplace that had been cold and dark during her last visit, now held a raging fire – a fleeting line of thought had her wondering if Professor Snape had lit the fire for her benefit, but she disregarded this. Why would he do something so trivial as to make the room warm and less threatening for her? It was more likely that he nowadays just enjoyed it that way.

There was a surprising amount of color in the room. The curtains on the only window of the room were Slytherin green and silver, as was the large carpet under the desk. He had an oil-lamp on one corner of the desk, and on the other there was a Pensieve. Hermione tilted her head as she looked at the shallow stone basin and she wondered if this was the same Pensieve that had once belonged to Albus Dumbledore.

"Have you any idea as to why a witch or a wizard occasionally loses the ability to perform controlled magic?" he asked, his question cutting through the silence, making Hermione jump slightly.

She sighed quietly, being immensely tired of jumping at every little thing that took her a teensy bit by surprise.

"I wasn't actually quite aware that it was a possibility until it happened," she answered, adding 'to me of all people' in her mind.

She recoiled from the thought – she hadn't know that she was so bitter about this whole matter until now. Weird that it had taken her so long to realize that. She loved being a witch and everything about the magical world. How could she be anything but bitter and upset that she now was reduced to some bizarre mix of a witch and a muggle?

"And I haven't really given it much thought, even after it happened ," she continued, shrugging her shoulders. "I got accustomed to not use magic."

Snape's eyes had left the papers while she had spoken and their gazes met for the first time since she had entered his office. He was now giving her a piercing look, as if the answer had caught him off guard. He didn't show this of course, not directly, but the way he was just staring at her made her feel as if she had said something wrong.

"Are you telling me," he said quietly (was that a tiny smile playing on his lips?), "that the most famous know-it-all Hogwarts has ever seen is shamelessly admitting that she does not know the answer to a question?"

She gaped at him and her cheeks flushed with anger. She was completely incapable of hiding how much his words upset her – her eyes narrowed dangerously and her fists twitched into balls. How dare he mock her this way? She was not a student at Hogwarts, she was an adult! An adult who was in desperate need for help with the one fundamental thing that made her a witch. She turned around on the spot and reached for the doorknob when she heard a chair scrape against the floor, but she was already on the other side of the door by the time he had gotten up.

Hermione stormed off to her room, angry tears clouding her vision as she half-ran down the halls. She was so frustrated at Snape, but mostly she was frustrated with herself for not being able to come up with some kind of retort. She had fled like a little girl that had been bullied in to silence and now she was going to have to pay for that mistake later. Snape was not going to let her off easy, she knew that in her gut.

"Miss Granger."

She whirled around and let out a shocked gasp when she almost collided with Snape's chest. His arms shot out once again to steady her and then he immediately let her go.

"I do not recall you being so clumsy, Miss Granger," he drawled, meeting her gaze steadily.

"Well, I recall you being a bastard, so I guess you're the only one who is surprised here."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise and Hermione threw her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and horrified. She couldn't believe that she had just said that! Did she have a death wish?

"I will let that one slide, Miss Granger, for this time and this time only," he hissed, his eyes ablaze with fury.

She lowered her hand and her expression was now full of suspicion.

"I... apologize for my words," he said very quietly.

The way he said 'apologize' and wrinkled his nose at the same time, made it clear for Hermione that this wasn't a word that was in his daily vocabulary. But she was incredulous, so incredulous that her mouth dropped in open shock and all she could do was stare at him – Severus Snape had just apologized to her!

"I am certain you know of the expression 'old habits die hard'," he continued, just as quietly.

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes, but she managed not to.

"I understand that you are not doing this out of the good of your heart," she said, her eyes blazing with defiance. "You're doing this because... well actually, I can't understand why you're doing this. But you agreed to do it, if I help you brew potions, and therefor I will not allow you to mock and ridicule me in such ways. I am not your student, but I won't go so far as to claim that we're equals – I know you don't see it that way. But I am an adult in desperate need of your help and I beg you not to take advantage of that."

During her speech his eyes had narrowed more and more and his lips had steadily been pressed into a very thin line. He took a step forward, which caused Hermione to take a step back. This continued until Hermione had her back pressed back against the wall. He was less than at arms length from her.

"Answer me honestly, Miss Granger. Do you fear me?" he hissed quietly.

Her eyes widened at the unexpected question.

"Yes," she whispered.

He only nodded and he took a few steps back from her.

"Accompany me back to my office, Miss Granger," he ordered, but when he saw her cross her arms over her chest, he added "Please."

He started walking back down the hall and he never turned to check that she was following him. She sighed in defeat, realizing that she had no other choice than to obey him. She hurried to catch up with him, but she still walked several steps behind him. He held the door open for her, but then walked straight past her when he stopped just inside the entrance. He sat down by one of the two armchairs by the fireplace and then gestured for her to join him. She hesitated for a moment, but eventually she guardedly joined him.

"We are only going to talk today, Miss Granger. You need to begin thinking of why this has happened to you."

He paused and waited for her to get comfortable in the chair. Hermione sunk further into the cozy, soft chair as she shivered from the sudden warmth that radiated from the fire.

"In order for this to work, you must be willing to give me honest answers – no matter what that might entail. In other words, whenever I ask you a question, I will expect you to be truthful. Understood?"

His tone gave little room to argue with. Hermione was quick to nod and only afterwards did she think about what she was agreeing to. Had she just given him permission to ask any question about her life? Any question?

"I imagine that you have always been a bit afraid of me, Miss Granger, as most of the students I have had the displeasure of teaching over the years," he continued, his eyes searching her face for a reaction, "and thus the speech you just gave made me quite... surprised."

She opened her mouth to say something to convey that she was sorry, but when she saw that Snape's mouth thinned and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, she snapped her mouth shut.

"Why is it that you can rant at me, a person you have always feared, in such a manner, but not confront the person with whom you are living?"

"Were," Hermione automatically corrected him. "Were living. As in, not anymore. Haven't lived with him for a day, so we're not... anymore."

Shut up, Hermione, you're babbling! her mind yelled to her.

"That may be true," Snape offered coldly and then looked at her in silence for a moment. "I am curious, Miss Granger. Why is it that you can tell me off so profoundly, yet dare not say anything whatsoever to Mr Weasley?"

She stared at him for a moment. His gaze did not waver. After a few seconds she blinked rapidly.

"I don't know," she whispered, feeling pathetic.

She hated to admit that she didn't know. Least of all to Severus Snape!

Snape traced his finger across his lips while he searched her face for any kind of unmasked emotion. He didn't have to look long – just like Potter she was as easy to read as an open book. Damn Gryffindor's, always displaying their emotions clearly for everyone to see! It was obvious to him that she was afraid. Very afraid. But not of him – not really. In one way she did (who didn't?), but she was not scared to death by him, like she was with Mr Weasley.

"When did it start?"

Hermione didn't answer – she was staring in to the fire and acting as if she hadn't heard him. He cleared his throat loudly and she jumped (she certainly did that a lot, didn't she?).

"I'm sorry? Did you say something?"

He bristled and his eyes flashed with annoyance.

"Miss Granger, if you are not going to pay attention when I speak with you, perhaps this is not going to work!" he practically yelled, standing up to be able to tower over her.

Her eyes widened, then were tightly shut again as she shrunk back into the armchair.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, pure anguish in her tone, as she threw her arms up to cover her face.

Snape was so shocked by this display of raw fear from the woman that had helped vanquish the Dark Lord, that he only stared at her for the longest time with his mouth hanging open. He was a man that was seldom surprised, but even less so, he never, ever felt frightened for someone else. But this time he was – here was proof at how much Ronald Weasley had managed to frighten and scar the brightest witch of her age. She was absolutely terrified. Snape felt a weird sensation in his stomach that he did not recognize and he gulped. Was it sympathy?

He did not know what to do. Hermione still had her arms over her face and her breath was shallow, as if she was having some kind of panic attack. He realized at once why all of this seemed so familiar – he had seen his mother behave the exact same way, cowering under his father.

He sat down again and after a moments hesitation, he reached out to pry the young woman's arms away from her face.

"Miss Granger, I am not going to harm you," he said quietly when she resisted, but he retreated his arms and was then smart enough to take several steps away from her.

She noticed all of this and after a moment, her arms lowered. Her breathing was still shallow, but is was slowly calming down. At first she did not dare look at him, but when the moments turned into long minutes, she felt the need to glance at him. Snape stood by the mantelpiece – he was staring at the flames, but his expression was blank. She wondered what he was thinking. He seemed to be off some where very far away from the office they were in.

"I am sorry, sir," Hermione said after a while, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

Snape stirred from his thoughts and he turned his now grim expression towards her.

"I may be a bastard, Miss Granger," he murmured, recalling her words from earlier in the hall, "but I would never strike someone who so obviously is completely defenseless. I know that trust is something that will likely never exist between us, but I promise you that I will never physically harm you."

Hermione suddenly felt ashamed for her reaction. It was just the same way she had reacted so many times before when Ron's temper had turned on her – she had been an easy prey for him. Even in the beginning, when she still had control of her magic, she could have fought him off magically and she had, to start with. After a while she realized that whenever she fought back, Ron took three times as long to cool down, which resulted in Hermione shutting off completely so he would finish quicker.

"I... understand you a bit better now, Miss Granger. You are truly afraid, but not of me. I will... try to keep my anger in check, but you must be able to keep up with me. I do not enjoy repeating myself."

"I understand, sir."

He took the seat next to her again, when he saw that she had calmed down. For a moment neither of them spoke.

"I don't agree with you, by the way," Hermione suddenly said, as a wave of bravery swept through her.

His eyes snapped up to meet hers, and he almost looked alarmed.

"I think trust can exist between us," she hurried to say, realizing that he might think she was referring to his promise about not hurting her. "Trust can always be earned with time."

Snape stared at her for a moment and then simply gave a short nod in acknowledgement of the truth of her words. In any case, it was a waste of time to try to convince her just how unlikely it really was.

The remainder of the hour, Hermione told Snape about her life with Ron. She was unable to remember exactly when everything had gone wrong – too much had happened for her to recall the first incident. There were a few nights that stood out in her memory, like the knife incident and the last time when she had finally decided to leave. But most of her memories were a blur – they were all kind of merged into one single long, but blurry, memory.

"So you stopped fighting back, both magically and physically," Snape mused, "which I am guessing then caused your magical core to have a some sort of nervous breakdown and then started failing you."

"But why, sir?"

"Your magic is entwined with your soul – it is a part of who you are to the same degree as your soul is, and if something occurs that shakes your entire world quite profoundly, sooner or later a part of you will be affected. The more common reaction to this is a mental breakdown that can treated, with time. But once in a while, the magic within you will be affected instead."

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"Usually the witch or wizard loses the ability to do any magic, but this does not seem to be the case with you," he continued softly, his eyes turned to watch the fire. "You seem to be the exception to the rule, Miss Granger. However, losing control of magic is a matter that is seldom discussed within the wizarding society, so I have no references at my disposal whilst trying to help you."

Snape stopped again, knowing in advance that she was going to ask a question – he even knew exactly what question it was going to be as well.

"Sir, why is it not discussed within the wizarding society?"

Yes, just the question he had expected.

"Because, Miss Granger," he started, turning his piercing gaze towards her, "most families find that sort of information to be equally bad as to having a squib in the family – as a matter of fact, being a witch or a wizard, especially a pure-blooded witch or wizard, and then to lose the ability to perform magic later on in life is usually treated with greater secrecy than a family member being a squib."

Hermione had wrinkled her nose in disgust as he spoke.

"Well, I think it's despicable. Instead of trying to help these individuals, they are locked away by their families. Sometimes I forget how backwards this society is compared to the muggle world."

Snape's mouth twitched, but he didn't say anything – it wouldn't do well for her to know that she had managed to catch his interest. He desperately wanted to know what she meant, but this was not the time nor the place to discuss the muggle world.

"Backwards it may be, but it is the society we live in and we cannot change history. You must understand, Miss Granger, that this is something that occurs so seldom that when it does, people are afraid of the implications – why has it happened, can it cured, what will happen if it cannot? In some ways it is easier to just not take action and the hide the affected witch or wizard away from the rest of the world."

"Like with Ariana Dumbledore then," Hermione muttered under her breath.

Snape's eyes snapped up to hers.

"I beg your pardon?" he demanded.

Hermione looked startled.

"Ariana Dumbledore, sir – she lost control of her magic when she was six after being assaulted by muggle boys."

"How do you know this?"

Hermione gave him a surprised look.

"What do you mean, sir? Rita Skeeter mentions it vaguely in her book about Dumbledore."

He bristled and he shot out of the chair, away from Hermione this time.

"And you believe those lies?" he shouted, sounding absolutely furious.

"They're not lies, sir! She may not have had the whole truth, but Aberforth Dumbledore told us what happened to her on the evening the war ended!"

Hermione had never seen Snape look dumbfounded before. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing or smiling. Neither would be good to do at this moment.

"We are done for the evening, Miss Granger," he said slowly, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the door. "I need to confer with the portrait of Albus Dumbledore this instant."

Hermione jerked her arm away from him.

"Very well, sir, but you do not have to drag me to the door – I can walk on my own," she snapped, readjusting the sleeve of her robes that he had managed to mess up.

"This is essential for your... rehabilitation, Miss Granger. I will call on you tomorrow."

He closed the door in Hermione's face, leaving her to feel very irritated.

"Albus Dumbledore!" Snape roared the moment he stepped out of the fire in the Headmistress's office.

Minerva shrieked and managed to drop all the papers she had been carrying across the room.

"Severus Snape! How dare you come howling in to my office in such ways! Are you out of your mind? I am an old woman – my heart cannot take it!"

Snape had the decency to look a bit ashamed.

"I am sorry, Minerva. I forgot that you might be here."

"You forgot?"

Her tone was low and cold. Any other man would be wise enough to back off when a woman used that tone, but not Severus Snape. He wasn't even listening to her anymore – he was much to busy staring at the portrait of Dumbledore. He flicked his wand at the mess of the scattered papers and they all organized themselves into the order they had been in before they ended on the floor.

"Severus, my boy!" greeted the cheery voice of Albus Dumbledore. "You seem to be angry with me."

Snape walked over to the portrait and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You are correct," he hissed. "Why is it that when Miss Granger was here in the middle of the night and told us of her... problem, you did not see it fit to mention your sister?"

The twinkle in Dumbledore's dimmed. At first he didn't answer.

"I know that you were awake, Albus, so do not claim otherwise."

"I have never enjoyed thinking of that matter, Severus, and even less speaking of it."

"You know that there are no records of previous cases with Miss Granger's condition! Yet here you are with first hand information about a person who suffered the loss of controlled magic – how could you not tell me?"

Dumbledore said nothing. Snape bristled and chucked the nearest thing he could find at the portrait – a paperweight.

"You still cannot confide in me, even three years after your death! I gave my life to you, I followed your every order – even the one to have me kill you! – and you cannot even divulge personal, but vital, information about your sister, information that might be essential to give 'the brightest witch of her age' control of her magic!"

Dumbledore still said nothing and after a moment he disappeared, no doubt to one of his many other portraits.

"ALBUS! COME BACK HERE!" Snape bellowed, but it was too late – Dumbledore was already gone.

The room was quiet for a moment. Then, the ever composed Severus Snape jumped in surprise when Minerva placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Did you not know about Ariana?" she wondered, sounding a bit confused. "I would have thought that everyone had read Rita Skeeter's book by now."

He shrugged her off.

"I was too resentful to read that appalling book when it was first published, and in the recent years I have had no interest to read a whole book which I thought was filled with nothing but lies. I should have known better – Albus Dumbledore never confided anything in me that wasn't essential to win the war."

His voice was so bitter that Minerva's heart squeezed with sympathy. Without another word, Snape flooed back to his office.

"You are truly hurting him, Albus," Minerva said to the portrait – as soon as Snape had gone, Dumbledore had come back. "I hope you know what you are doing."

"He will hurt more if he spends the rest of his life alone, Minerva. This way he might see that Miss Granger is a compatible match for him."

Minerva shook her head in exasperation.

"You are the most brilliant wizard I have ever known, Albus, but sometimes you are really dense. Since the day Severus came to Hogwarts thirty years ago he has never shown interest in any other woman than Lily Potter. But now you expect him to fall in love with a witch that is young enough to be his daughter."

"Age is of no consequence in the wizarding world, Minerva. You know that."

"Perhaps not, Albus – that doesn't change the fact that you expect him to fall in love with Hermione Granger."

The twinkle in Albus' eyes were back and he gave Minerva a small smile.

"No. It doesn't change that fact."