Chapter 5

By the goodwill of whatever grand wizard died and left his spirit to govern the world of the living from time to time, the end of September fades into the beginning of October in a very smooth manner. His suspicion at that showed itself various times during the period, only, he chose to thoroughly ignore it.

Suspicion, much like hope, is only consuming when given even the slightest of attention. It also, in the same way that hope does, only sleeps with one eye and the other open, watching and keeping itself aware. It's a plague, suspicion, and not wanting to eat himself away until he couldn't enjoy anything, he dismissed it.

So what of it, if nothing has been going astray –per se– in his life so far?

And what of it especially, if up until now, Albus hasn't made a single comment about his lessons with Miss Granger?

Surely, he is better off putting his thoughts to more favourable situations. Although now that he's completing the brew for Albus, it's a little difficult to control his doubt and suspicion. It's fitting, rather, because it simply isn't like the man to not have made a comment up to now. Either from Minerva or Horace, he must've heard about the lessons, and yet no word has come from him.

Why could that be?

Perhaps Albus is waiting for him to be the one to bring the news to him. It wouldn't be far-fetched to assume so; Albus is who he is, after all – he likes to have the other person believe that they are in control, when they never were to begin with. Whatever it may be with Albus, it's most probably not as worrisome a thing as his mind is poisoning him to think it is, however, he rather feels a little worried about their meeting.

He's supposed only to deliver the potion and then leave to make it for his evening lesson, but he what's to say that he will not be detained? Yes, Albus hasn't been asking for more than a small report on Draco, though perhaps tonight will be different. It's that it's too unlike him to be so unconcerned about his life. At the very least, he'd have mentioned something or made a comment; it's all rather strange, suspicious even.

However, no, suspicion should have no place within him.

Although…

Could it be that in mending his dealings with Miss Granger, life responded and chipped at his relationship with Albus?

A gain for a loss – a sacrifice?

Restoration to the natural course of his life – the same miserable balance of always?

And compromise, is that not applicable to him?

No, no, none of those thoughts for now. He should rather deliver the potion and see what happens thereafter.

26Chapters

He's once again left his door open for her tonight, allowing her the liberty to enter while he returned. He left through the floo to administer Albus' potion, estimating that he wouldn't take longer than several minutes of required formality, and so stepping through the floo, he directs his wand to close the door.

'Tonight, we tackle the subject of etiquette,' he begins while making his way to her, but she only follows him with her eyes, waiting.

He takes no offence to her being that way, when his lessons are driven by how he decides for them to be. Occasionally, she cuts through his plans, asking him whatever her mind feeds her to, but overall, she waits for his directions on how the meetings should go.

'Rise from your chair and face me,' he tells her, setting himself in the middle of the office.

She does so, not wasting any time in levelling with him, leaving what looks like four steps between them.

'Draw your wand.'

Again, she does as she is told, quickly drawing out her wand, but not pointing it at him. It's an error, of course, because a less innocent learner would've had their wand pointed at him already, guessing that they were being challenged to a duel. He dislikes that it's necessary at all, but he nonetheless makes the note to talk to her about noticing duel invitations without implicitly being told the intention.

'In the practice of the dark arts,' he takes a deliberately large step towards her, 'there is an unspoken rule, a sort of etiquette, if you will.'

Following his words, he quickly disarms her, purposely giving her no time to prepare for what he planned. He then watches her follow the flight of her wand with her eyes, going as far as to turn her head to see her wand's clang to the floor with her own eyes.

Inwardly sighing, he laments her reaction; how he wishes that she hadn't done that.

It doesn't make him feel good to know that he's going to do this one thing to her, although for the sake of her practical education, he sends a mild sting to her body. As jolted as her physical reaction paints her to be, she duly turns her attention back to him, making it hard for him to miss the display of pain that crosses her face. He dislikes having done it, more so, because he suspects that her reaction is more to do with him having done it, as opposed to the jinx truly being painful. Even so, he moves all the way to her, coming to a still when only half a step remains between them.

He didn't necessarily count on her moving away from him, but still, he would have preferred that with her pained reaction, she would have done her part in keeping distance appropriate between them. Later tonight, he should make it a point to convince himself that her growing trust in him should not be a good thing, but for now, he needs to demonstrate it. That is why with a steady hand, he points his wand directly between her eyes, schooling his face to look determined and then in secret, gathers out his free hand to stretch out in waiting on the side.

'You never take your eyes off your attacker,' he warns, hoping that he never has to repeat that to her ever again in his life. 'You never leave yourself unguarded,' he continues, his eyes searching hers, 'and you never, ever, Miss Granger...' he pauses, the fingers of his left hand gracefully extending out and into them flies her wand. 'Allow them your wand.'

To that, she only nods, making his face tense in response, when what he really wants is to her face between his hands, make her eyes lock on his and then harshly drill into her what he just said, assured that her attention won't escape him. However, the governing part of him understands that he'd be overly aggressive to do that, when he's only introducing this to her for the first time. He ought to exercise leniency for now at the very least.

'Did you hear me, Miss Granger?' he opts to ask after all.

'I did, Professor,' she evenly replies and only then, does he drop his pointed wand, moving to place her wand into her own hand.

'I doubt that you did,' he confesses, worried as well. 'You seem far too relaxed for this exercise.'

Too trusting, really, he should have said. She has yet to say something typical of her to him, and while that's not bothersome, he would appreciate it if she would treat this with the most importance that it bears. That he's the one teaching her should not have her taking this casual attitude – he doesn't like it; he could very well be a threat to her. For certain, she wouldn't like to experience the evils that one could commit upon her with her own wand and then destroy it afterwards.

'You didn't tell me that I had to be on my guard, Professor,' she defends with a mild tone.

Has she no shame to spare, to go along with those words? That is precisely what he means by her being too relaxed for this exercise.

'Oh, forgive me,' he heavily drops. 'I should have given you the same warning that Dolohov gave you when he cursed you.'

'That's not a fair comparison,' she says, shaking her head. 'I knew that he was going to curse me, that's why I silenced him.'

And she did well to silence him, however, she still took damage.

'I would prefer that you never mention that fair word to me again, Miss Granger. In this world, very few abide by what is fair and what isn't. The definition varies as per person, as you might guess. What I deem fair, may be to kill you simply because I wish it.'

'I know that,' she strongly replies.

'Then behave so,' he stresses. 'Nothing traditionally fair will be considered once you are of age and outside the protection of these castle walls.'

'I am of age,' she says.

Jolly for her, in that case. And needless worry for him as it is. With no magical trace on her, even the slightest of spells – spells that she could fire in distress - can now never be tracked and she could suffer unaided even inside her own bedroom. She mustn't be too proud of herself for becoming of age; it is a danger to her.

'All the more reason for you to pick up these things,' he says with measured calm. 'You cannot expect me to tell you everything all of the time. Some things you ought to deduce for yourself.'

'Yes, Professor,' she nods in earnest

Good, he likes that. Her response is satisfactory, even without the desperate urgency that he would prefer it to have. It's at least a step into the right direction.

'There are an infinite amount of rules in the practise of the dark arts, but one of them is not consideration,' he picks up talking. 'As you have experienced, there is no such thing as distinction from child to woman to man in dark arts. As you are, injured, in perfect health, desperate, willing, whatever the case may be, you are used in the practise of the dark arts.'

Nearly always, it's either for someone else's pleasure and your pain, or someone's pain and your pleasure – to whichever degree of pleasure appeals to the situation.

'It's mostly about making the person suffer, isn't it?'

Now she's coming alive.

'Or instant death,' he agrees. 'It depends on the individual and the nature in which they come by you. It's always advised to keep a shielding charm guarding you.'

He delivers that last sentence evenly, not stumbling on any syllable and yet, a waver happens inside of him.

'That won't work to stop curses, will it, Professor?'

'It'll give you ample warning, and at least save you from being immediately affected,' he replies, thinking about his own type of protection on her. 'It's penetrable, naturally.'

His on her, for example, will keep anything as fatal as an Avada away from her, but only from the first attempt. Other, less serious curses can take up to three attempts before the shield becomes penetrable.

Watching her in the quiet that's now between them, she appears to be going over it in her head, as though she's placed herself inside a situation in her mind, where she's living out a shielding charm on herself. It's a sight, truthfully, seeing her face change from relaxed to envisioning.

'Could you teach me how to properly shield myself?' she unsurprisingly asks, her face turning interested.

She's a curious one. She's looking hopeful too, and already, he knows that unless he gives her what she wants, she will keep pressing him about it for days.

'You already have a protective shield,' he tells her, not because he'd like her to know, but because it'll kill that line of conversation once and for all.

With shining eyes, her face takes on a look of surprise, and while he appreciates that he's evidently able to make her feel that way without any effort, he suddenly doesn't trust her to leave it be.

'I never knew that,' leaves her as she takes a small step towards him.

Typical of her to believe that every piece of information concerning her is meant to be known. He let it slip once, but it seems now that she never paid attention to that. That aside, when will she learn that some things are simply not for knowing? She was never meant to know about the protection. However, now that she does, there's no point in keeping it from her.

Although against his will, he crosses his arms and lets out a short breath to say, 'You do now, and before you ask, it happened when you awoke in the infirmary.'

'What is it?'

'A shielding charm,' he says, knowing very well that she wants the name of the shield.

Something between her insisting for him to tell her and asking him to show her what he did, had been on his mind as her response, except, she doesn't respond in either of those ways.

She instead takes him by complete surprise, letting out a laugh, a genuine, hearty burst of mirth that seems to thrust right into his chest from her mouth. For an extended moment, he's rendered immobile, only able to watch her hang her head in expression of her tickle; the sound of her laughter reverberating around the room and that much more touching inside his chest.

If he doesn't tighten his arms against himself, something will surely escape from within him as well. Also, if he doesn't clear his throat, his intended question will come out a choked breath. He does both in rapid succession, that prepared to keep himself shielded.

'You don't trust me to have shielded you properly?' he presents to her as his final act to sober her up from infecting him to join her.

'I do,' she replies through gradually dying laugh. 'I only wanted to know what it's called.'

Thinking fast, his response is, 'Because you'd want to place it on Potter, no doubt,' not at all ready or willing to share with her what he did to her for protection.

She hangs her head then, that way confirming his suspicion, but also says, 'You never want me to mention Harry,' she mentions.

But he brings Potter up when he feels the need to, is what she really means to say, he knows.

'You haven't asked me why I did it,' he tries to redirect.

'Why did you do it, Professor?'

'Perhaps I will tell you one day,' he answers, to which she nods. 'But there is a reason that I brought up etiquette today. While dark arts do not have proper courtesy, there is another sort of etiquette that could be useful to you to know.'

As soon as he stops talking, he simply waits, half expecting her to ask him what it is and half hoping that she'll prove him right. She does not, however and though a little unpleasant to swallow his incorrect assumption, he finds no other option but to, if he is to continue telling her about etiquette.

'Dolohov,' he especially says the name with care, uncrossing his arms, 'the man who cursed you, should I ever meet him and decide to pay him back for what he has done, if I announce my intention to those around that I have a query with him, no other witch or wizard would dare to interfere in the duel.'

Her eyebrows draw together as though she's concentrating on something, and then she says, 'That's odd. I would think that onlookers would rather join in. It would be the perfect time for chaotic behaviour from everyone.'

She's right to assume that, however -

'Only when the intention is not stated,' he supplies, moving back from her. 'An unspecified attack is right out barbaric, which, yes, is descriptive of the dark arts, so of course it would invite more barbarianism. However, even dark arts has a deep sense of honour that demands to be preserved. Honour is much more important in the dark arts than it is to ordinary witches and wizards. If it is a fight of honour, it should be treated as such.'

Oh, the things many have done for the preservation of honour in the field of dark arts. She would be appalled to know, that is certain.

'So…' she appears to be thinking about it more inside of her mind, 'even if I found Dolohov surrounded by other Death Eaters and I managed to speak before they could attack me, they would allow me to get away unharmed?'

In an instant, his body reacts in the stiffest of ways, as if someone invisible just poured a bucket of cold water over him. He recovers fast enough to think that she's out of mind deranged to think that way, although, he is just as equally overtaken by a sudden surge of anger that he roughly takes hold of her arm, pulling her to him and not paying attention to how tightly he's holding onto her.

'See to it that you never find yourself in that situation, Miss Granger,' he warns in a very serious tone.

The entire scenario, even in his head does not even begin before it ends for her. She must never dare to fill his mind with such an image again.

'But you just said-'

'It is known performers against another known performers!'

'That's not at all fair then, is it?' she looks at him, frowning at his answer. 'What use is the etiquette if it's only for those who know each other?'

Releasing her, only because he apparently hasn't done anything to stress the urgency of this by keeping a hold on her, he takes a step back from her, only for her to take that same step, bringing her close to him again.

But why can't she hear him?

His own example never featured her standing up to any Death Eater.

'Did I say that it's etiquette for everyone? It's all within the dark arts context,' he explains, calmer now. 'Think of it as a Muggle cult. Their rules only apply to those who belong inside it. While it makes no difference for you to know this information, it is information that you should know nonetheless. It wouldn't be right to leave out little things such as those.'

'I know, but sir, isn't it dangerous to humiliate a Death Eater in front of others? Were they to find each other alone, would they not kill each other?'

'They would, unless at the end of their duel with an audience, they come to an agreement to leave the other alone.'

'Hmpf!' she says indignantly. 'I wouldn't trust the word of a Death Eater!'

How naïve of her to say such a thing. He understands what she means by it, it's only that there's still much innocence in her if in her mind, a Death Eater is the worst that it can get.

'Miss Granger...' he says only her name at first, to then watch her carefully.

She's able to do many things, that is no secret, and when he suggested these lessons, he did it only to keep her coming to him. That is gradually changing with each meeting that he discovers her way of thinking, reasoning, wanting, demanding – things that he could never gauge when all she did was brew. There's no more avoiding that he cares for her, and because it is so, he's pressed to arm her as best as she will allow him to.

'Death Eaters are not the only performers of dark magic in this world of ours,' he resumes. 'For all you know, Professor Binns could be one to practice dark arts. Or among your colleagues, of those you share stories with. Remember that I have told you already, dark arts aren't necessarily bad all of the time, they simply require a lot more than one would ordinarily give in a normal spell.'

'I know, Professor.'

'No, you don't know,' he quickly returns, his urgency directed at her once again calm and trusting demeanour. 'The dark arts are vast. Even love can be incorporated into them.'

She begins to move her head, possibly in denial, arguing, 'But love isn't supposed to be dark. It's pure and lovely. It's protective and nice. I read about it, Professor. Love can't be tainted and forced and maimed into someone, or else it isn't love. It's also selfless and forgiving. I can't be possible for love to be used in darks arts, when mostly, the dark arts aren't supposed to be natural. Besides, Harry told me that Professor Dumbledore always says-'

She stops short suddenly, her face sharply turning to the door to see the reason for the loud knock that just sounded. Finding the door closed, she turns back to him, her eyes questioning, and with the animation within them from before gone.

Curses!

He's quite sour about the interruption, and yes, he flings the door open from where he is to reveal a small boy standing there, but that's not at all to say that he's going to grant whatever that boy wants.

'Excuse me, Professor Snape,' the boy apologises, 'Professor Slughorn said to get you. There's been a fight in the common room again.'

Those rascals!

Couldn't they have chosen another time – much earlier, for instance – to cause a commotion? Do they have any idea what they just spoiled? Whoever they are, he already dislikes them for the rest of the term.

He clenches his teeth together, exercising control on his annoyance, lest he uses the wrong tone with the wrong person. To assure himself that he won't react untoward with her, he steps around her, immediately heading for the door.

'Tonight's lesson is over,' he tells her without looking back at her.

He will make someone pay for this!

26Chapters

By the time that he's reaching the common room, his annoyance has become a bad mood. He rather likes it when he dictates the start and end of his lessons, and to be robbed of that… Whatever caused the fight to happen, he will make sure that the culprits are properly punished. It's just as well that Horace is still in here when he steps into the room, because now he can get an idea before he starts questioning the ones involved.

'Students…' the old man begins shaking his head upon his approach.

Looking around, there's no physical evidence of a ruckus having taken place. All the magic within him, he better not have been removed from his lesson for a useless fight.

'What happened here tonight?'

He looks at the older man, who somewhat confused for a moment, then gives him a look of comprehension.

'Ah, of course, Severus, you were with Miss Granger, you wouldn't know.'

Obviously.

However, was he not the one who sent the boy to collect him? What nonsense is this that he is trying to bring about? He doesn't like the suggestive tone that accompanied his statement either, even less the very fact that it had to be said aloud.

'Meaning what?' he asks.

'Oh, nothing,' Horace waves it away, 'it was just that I know that you couldn't be here.'

So, he agrees then that it was absolutely not necessary to say what he did?

'Tell me what happened,' he says, deciding to leave it be.

26Chapters

Necessary repayment should be made for tonight and Draco being involved in the fight, should be one of those people. But first, he will make his point clear to the boy.

'What are you doing, Draco?' he demands as harshly as he wants, knowing that no one will overhear them in this corner of the common room. 'You're arousing suspicion!'

'What's it to you?' he spits, carefully avoiding his eye.

He notices that, but he isn't concerned about it. The mind of a teenage boy is anyhow no place that he'd rather be in. What's more, it's rather extremely more important that he drills it into this boy's head that things will go badly if he is choosing to be careless. Who in the world initiates fights without thinking that they will draw attention to themselves?

'Your mother has asked me to look after you.'

That's what it is, if he should know. He cannot have him behaving wretchedly now, if it's going to be a reason for his lessons coming to an end before time. He'd still like to assist Draco, but he more so doesn't want to keep having his evenings interrupted.

'I can look after myself, thank you, Professor!'

'Don't be difficult, Draco,' he icily advises. 'You have to allow me to help you.'

Nearly as though he's considering it, and he probably is, Draco softens only a little bit. That's a crack in his armour, he encourages himself, and he has every intention of trying to influence Draco while at his weaker and exposed time.

'Listen to me,' he carefully says. 'I'm here to assist you only. Should you fail, Draco, remember that things could go very badly.'

For him specifically. No one else will take his punishment for him, should the Dark Lord choose to punish him.

'I won't fail! I have a plan,' he urgently whispers.

Surprising news though this maybe to him, he manages to keep himself composed to evenly ask, 'What is your plan?'

He had no idea that Draco was actually doing something other than being afraid, except now that he's revealed part of his hand, there's something to work with…

In knowing the plan, he can warn Albus accordingly, as well as prepare himself for…

Oh! This is stunting to him.

If he is to intervene in Draco's plan, he'll leave the school earlier than he expected and then…

Damn this from where it came! He barely started enjoying his evenings away from the turmoil of his real life and now- This is highly serious.

'Like I'd tell you,' Draco cries in disgust, his face a mirror to his tone.

'Draco, I could help you,' he insists for his own sake.

In all honesty, Draco is easily becoming less of a priority to him now that he's put one piece to another. He's rather counting on the fact that if the boy's afraid enough, he'll act as rashly as his fear drives him to, and once that happens, he will have to flee.

'I don't want your help!'

'Why do I detect Bellatrix's influence in your words?'

'She's got nothing to do with this!' Draco lies. 'Please leave me alone, Professor Snape.'

Draco tries to get away from him, making to push past him, but he holds him in place. More information he will not get from Draco, Bellatrix has apparently trained him well – composure and control being most of what her training lacked, but then again, she could only give what she has, nothing more. It would be pointless to keep touching the same point.

'You're still to blame for tonight's commotion, Mister Malfoy. I've yet to determine your punishment.'

Draco doesn't look the bit happy to hear that, and good, he should feel discomfort.

'Perhaps…' he begins to smile at the idea, 'I could twist the headmaster's arm to allow your prefect duties to match those on Miss Granger's schedule.'

'You can't do that!'

Oh, but he very well can. His influence on the headmaster, only when Albus finds it necessary for his own purpose, sometimes comes in handy. And no, putting Miss Granger as spy over Draco is not beneath him. It's only a matter of how he presents it to her.

'We shall see,' he threatens, meaning it as well. 'Let this be the last time that I tell you to be careful.'

He will not, for his own peace, keep having the same conversation over and over with no results to show for it, and it's with that thought that he releases the boy.

26Chapters

Draco, the cause of the fight, first, Horace, with his unnecessary observation, second and then Draco again, sullied his fine evening. Someone ought to teach the boy what bad decisions can lead to in life. At the wrong time, with the right influence, he's bound to find himself deeper than he's ever thought possible and then... He's been there where Draco is right now and his mistakes from that time still visit his memory from time to time, making him a sour man mostly.

On the other side of Draco ruining his evening lesson, however, is the supposed plan that is in motion. If what Draco's insisting is true, then he will have to start teaching Miss Granger some useful practical spells as well and working on a way to have her keep an eye on Draco in whatever capacity she can. With her information, who knows, maybe he could have a little more of a warning before anything happens.

A warning for what, he's not sure yet.

What he does know at moment is that he dislikes the interruption to his lesson, and that where he wouldn't have thought so much about his life turning out this way, he's now attentive to when it will turn out the way it's going to. Not that knowing beforehand will make a difference in the outcome, but he still feels the need to be aware.

No, he has no affairs to put in order, but even so, the warning would be welcome. Say he were to flee from Hogwarts, apart from his books, there'd be nothing else that he would care to carry with him. He'd easily leave his few items of clothing behind, knowing that he would never step foot in the castle again. Only, surely he has the right to prepare for a more wretched life… Even if it's to bid her a cryptic goodbye – he owes her that much at least.

She's done well to distract him from his life when it mattered, to be perfectly honest, and that qualifies her for a form of repayment from him.

And when he is gone, who will teach her?

Teaching her has not been a difficult thing, without considering that he's so far only been making her understand the basics of what dark magic is about and making her understand that the world can be cruel. She comes prepared in any case, either with her own quiet demands and queries, or what she's read in the book that he gave her, and then, she simply listens to him. He swears to magic that no one will ever comprehend just how much he appreciates that she hangs onto his every sentence, questioning for clarity when she wants to get to the heart of the matter and then trusting him to know it.

That last part especially, is the most potent of affirmations from her.

He's always known his own abilities, but when she does innocent things such as push him for information, he oddly feels affirmed in his outstanding magical abilities. Much more, he oddly feels as important as a traditional man ought to feel. His ego as a man is fed by her showing up and insisting on things, to be honest. That insistent part of her, is half the reason that he doesn't always give her what she wants right away. Knowing that she wants to hear from him, even when she can find out for herself, successfully at that, is quite something significant to him.

Needed. Useful.

That is how he feels when she arrives each night, seeking to know from him, and by sacred magic, trusting that he knows the answer – regardless of whether his response will be favourable or not. Apart from his earlier years with Lily, no one else made him feel that way, in that pure unexpectant way. She's so completely innocent in how she displays to view his usefulness, not at all like Albus and the Dark Lord. And so yes, if he's to be damned, the least that he can do is tell her something.

26Chapters

'Good evening, Professor,' she greets, taking the same liberty of always closing the door when she comes in.

Just by the way that she's still at the door, he knows that a question is coming. He would smile, if she wasn't directly looking at him.

'Miss Granger?' he digs instead.

'You live in a Muggle house?'

But must she look so excited, not surprised precisely? She kept a straight face in the staff room, not even glancing at him when Horace spewed that little bit of information about him needing a change from his Muggle house to a wizard's house, only for this to be her reaction? He will have to catalogue that look and pick it apart later in private, as for now, he will not give her a response to something that she clearly heard for herself.

'I didn't know that about you, Professor,' she tells him, apparently understanding him while moving towards his table.

'That?' he questions, amused.

Again, he would express his feelings through a smile, only, he doesn't trust her to receive a smile from him and leave it only at that.

'That you live in a Muggle house,' she confirms.

'I assumed that was what you meant,' he says just as she takes a seat at his table. 'It's only your 'that' implies that you knew a whole lot about me. It says that of all the things that I told you or shared with you about myself, that was the one thing that I neglected to mention.'

She smiles then, a full display of teeth made especially brighter by the light in her eyes, to tell him, 'But I didn't mean it that way.'

'I am aware,' he confirms, giving her a small nod, 'but since we are on the subject, if there's anything that you'd like to know, you are free to ask.'

There's no assurance that he'll answer her, but the offer is there; she should know. It just now occurred to him to open this sort of ground up to her, and when he's decided on whether to put her on Draco's trail or not, it won't be too much of a request more than a favour from her. Wholly, he needs to put to the test how at ease she is with him.

'Where is your house?' she asks short of jumping out of her own skin at the proposal. 'Is it in a nice neighbourhood?'

'It's not.'

Truthfully, there's no harm in letting her know that much, because much worse than where his home is situated, she already knows about him.

'Where is it? I might know it.'

He wonders, knowing where he lives, will she come by to visit him?

When Albus is dead and he's to spend his time at home, possibly only with Pettigrew, will she be the sole visitor who comes to see him in his prison cell for a few moments? The thought quickly enters his mind and no, the image of her there is not one that he'd want to see. He remains at that house, because his life is properly what it is, ascertained that he'll never have pleasant company there.

Nearly nothing in that house has been pleasant, however, the bit about her being aware of the environment in which he chooses to stay, particularly touches him uncomfortably, that he slightly moves his entire body in his seat to lessen the effect on him. The prickly feeling all over him, the need to face away from her, it feels a lot like shame; it probably isn't, but it feels a lot like it and he doesn't like it.

'Is there anything else?' he deliberately moves away from answering her, though defies that shame-like feeling by keeping his eyes on her.

To see the light fade from her eyes, realising what he's done, or at least, understanding that he's not going to give her that information, makes him want to look away from her all over again. He swallows instead, embracing her head shake a moment later, for it gives him something else to focus on.

'No, Professor,' she weakly answers, sounding defeated, 'there's nothing else.'

'On with defence, then,' he makes the attempt to remove them from where they are. 'We didn't finish last night's lesson.'

26Chapters

She has long left his office, but he remains in his seat, unable to remove himself from it yet. Beyond the secret entry into his quarters, there's in any case nothing waiting for him. In here at least, he looks around the immediate space of his table, he has the lingering air of dedication that she left behind.

Something is starting to happen to him.

He is clear on her part; she takes her lessons very seriously. It's in the way which she looks at him with a smile on her face when she triumphs, and in how she suddenly takes hold of his arm, or gasps when she does something wrong. When she's surprised, she squeals, knowing that he is there and she is safe to not act and react fast enough.

His part, however, is a little murky.

He takes in a breath, very deep and well needed – to ground himself, most probably?

He likes that she's becoming more because of him – that's his handiwork. There's simply nothing in his life to compare to the feeling of knowing that she just wants him to be teaching her, that there's no obligation on her part to be here, and even if there was, she would still be here, he believes.

And then as a unit, independent of each other and yet interacting with one other, they're quite accustomed to each other that everything simply meshes together from one action to the next. When she moves back from him, he moves to her and when he does that, she reciprocates. She at leads him back to sit at his own table, just as he wordlessly bids her to keep up with him, wherever he is. She's not afraid to push his hand away either, when she's stubbornly trying to master a wand movement on her own and he allows it.

Of course, he allows it.

At times such as those, he simply stops to watch her. She's extremely good at learning, he will give her that – it is her strength. She's not as good as she could be, but she is still better than most that he has encountered. To think that she does not have an arsenal of dark curses and hexes at her disposal... If she had those, she would be nearly indestructible with a good amount of practice. The fact is not amusing more than it arouses a taste of fright in him.

Sometimes, he would look at her making her determined face and then stare at him with a hard stare, silently warning him to not interrupt her, and he wonders if she's truly aware of just how dominating she can be if she puts her mind to it. He's found himself wondering if perhaps in those moments, she regards him as nothing more than a hindrance to her work, or more, like one of her friends, who she can dictate as she pleases.

In any event, if she's not aware of her true dominating nature, it's possibly a blessing for all those who could cross her path. Thinking about it, he cannot keep from smiling a little bit. And that's another thing about him that he's been struggling with lately, keeping his smiles to himself. When his smiles are meant to bask in the punishment of students, he has no problems showing them. It's only when she invokes them out of him, that he fights to keep them hidden.

Unlike she does.

She's an unfiltered vessel of instinctive reactions that one, quite unrestricted.

Her smiles especially, closely followed by her sudden bursts of laughter, are real and invaluable to him. They are not induced by him per se, they're just by her, for him to see. At least, in the middle of his care to Albus, the issue with Albus, his dealings with the Dark Lord and the ever-infuriating students, she's a lighter portion of his life. A portion, an extension in his life that's not the best thing in his life, and yet not close to being like anything else that he's known.

He's only really understood the worst that life can offer and then the best that he could feel, never anything in between that was good, not longing or wanting and definitely not regret. But now, with her, he's experiencing the intermediate in varying degrees of doses. Just recently, he found himself cataloguing a happy memory, a memory that even two days later after it happened worked like magic to fill him with goodness when it suddenly came to his mind. Ever since then, he's been in the mind to try something with his Patronus, but he never did - he'll try it now.

With determination, settling himself into his chair first, he then brings his happiest moment to mind, at the same time conjuring his Patronus. It appears at once, as it always does and his heart settles with ease at seeing the silver animal. After a small moment of appreciating just how much he loves to see the image, he wipes it away to take a long moment.

He hates failure and he doesn't want to fail in this experiment, because he's never been one to fail at magic. Despite his small fear, he closes his eyes in preparation for what's to come. His heart is not getting away from him, however, there's some shivering sensation touching him, threatening to stop him if he gives it the chance.

He cannot turn back now in any case. Magic is not so strict that it cannot be modified and created to suit the caster's needs. He encourages himself that way in order to stabalise his other memory important. A nagging voice tells him that he shouldn't bother, that it's not the happiest memory, but determined to try, because if he doesn't try, he'll never know, he drills it into himself that it's still a very happy memory. Going the extra distance, he especially concentrates on the effect of the memory on him, and then not willing to bear the suspense any longer, casts his Patronus and opens his eyes.

Absolute relief instantly pours over him as the familiar shape and image of his animal calmly stands before him. Still stuck in relief, he takes his time to study it carefully, his eyes open for any sort of deformity, only to find nothing at all. There are no missing limbs, neither is its shine fading, it's simply the same Patronus from all his life, the only difference being that it came about from a different memory.

It's interesting.

Understanding what he does about the magic with Patronuses, he'd never been worried about it changing shape, only maiming it. As he can see, however, not even that's the case. Hmm, he has another option now. That's highly empowering to know and startling at the same time.

Something is starting to happen to him indeed.

26Chapters

Nearing towards the end of October, just as he's leaving Albus' office, reaching his hand behind him to close the door, he meets the woman that he hasn't properly seen in while.

'Oh, Severus,' she quietly acknowledges, 'it's you.'

It's him, he replies in his mind, but to her he coolly says, 'Good evening, Sybill.'

To say that he's not affected by seeing her, would be a lie, as would saying that he doesn't notice her change in expression. Strangely, seeing her outside of the staff room, he's moved to stop and think in the quiet of them simply looking at each other.

Magic only knows what she could be thinking with her eyes on him, as for him, for her to react as she did, could he, for those short months that he sat in her rooms, drinking that calming tea, have made a difference in her life? Did he, when he stopped going, break something of substance for her?

'I trust that you are well,' he supplies, really hesitant to make it a question which requires a detailed response.

If he indeed did squeeze himself into her routine in those scattered days for those few months, only to somewhat remove himself from it without leaving a trace for her to keep with her, then he'd like to make it out for himself, not be told.

'I am,' she responds, immediately after asking, 'Everything is all right with you?'

Everything referring to what?

'Fine,' he carefully answers, deeply hoping that she doesn't bring up their previous visits.

'It shows,' she smiles at him. 'Even without reading your cards.'

This woman reads his cards? And for the love of magic, he has cards?

Truly, he's battling on whether to ask her to explain herself in full to him or simply give the appropriate look to communicate his disdain at the very idea. In the end, watching her face break out into a small smile, one meant to encourage him or perhaps congratulate him, he convinces himself that it's not worth any of his effort to discourse with her.

'Goodnight to you then, Sybill,' he chooses to tell her and put an end to their unplanned meeting.

'And to you,' she returns and then moves to slip through the door.

Hearing the door close, he suddenly gets the deepest suspicion that Sybill's going to mention him to Albus, and of course, Albus will milk her for whatever information she claims to have on him. It's not a pleasant thought to leave with, only the reality is that he cannot go back inside to stop them from discussing him.

26Chapters

When she calls for him before he makes it out of class one day, he naturally stops and turns her way. He then watches her say something to her friends, soon coming to where he is as the rest of the students file out. Though he knows not to show it, he hates being worried that she's going to tell him something he wouldn't like to hear. It's that she doesn't at all look willing to say what's made her stay behind, and that's without considering how she usually reserves her questions for the evening lessons. Nonetheless, hear what he might, he still needs to know why she stopped him from leaving.

'What is it?'

'Nothing,' she says, looking away from him. 'I only – Professor, Professor Slughorn is going to let me keep a vial of my brews.'

And? He's not following her. Why that expression? She should sooner get to that part than tell him something as absurd as dropping his evening lessons, because she looks to be ready to deliver bad news.

And would she care to look at him! He could just as easily be watching the students leave as she is avoiding him, but he is not.

'Is he?' he tests, waiting to see if she will lift her eyes to him.

She does bring her eyes back to his at that, seemingly studying him before saying a quiet, 'Yes,' with a small nod.

He's still waiting for her to connect her hesitance to speak at all to the brews, and so he remains as he is. This information is nothing of importance to him. He doesn't care what Horace does, seeing as that man does whatever he feels is benefiting to him. His only worry is why she is telling him about it, if that isimportant in a manner which he is still to piece together.

'You don't mind?' she asks.

It's all about that? He was on the verge of assuming the worst for only that?

'Why would I?' callously leaves his mouth, part relief and part annoyed that she made him feel as he did for nothing.

She responds only with drawn eyebrows, and instantly, the feeling that perhaps it wasn't the safest of things to say to her sticks to his skin like sweat, doing nothing good inside.

A lesson, if he must take note; to avoid a response like that from her, consequently leading to him responding as he did, he will have to choose his answers well when she offers him information from now onwards.

'I do not, Miss Granger,' he changes his mind to say, if only to do away with that expression meant for him.

It's a wonder that she changes as soon as he corrects himself, smiling quietly at him. One would say that she's pleased and relieved all in one, not able to see him contain the same thing to inside of him.

'You will excuse me then,' he says, although doesn't yet make any move to be on his way.

'No!' sharply comes from her, her arm reaching to stop him. 'Uh... I'm sorry, Professor, there's something else.'

26Chapters

That he no longer looks for her in any space of the castle, is precisely the thing that brings him to her, or her to him. It's strange to even think it, and yet, there's an unprovoked disposition within him to expect her now. They seem to cross paths everywhere, all of the time, and even as he enters Horace's office, he expects her to be the first that his eyes fall on. And she is.

She looks up his way at nearly the same time that he finds her, and perhaps its only in his mind, but she appears to light up at seeing him, like she's glad that he's come. He cannot let that deter him from his reason for coming, and so he walks over towards to the table, not necessarily keeping his eyes on her. Even so, he notices her get out of her chair, move to Horace and then bend down to tell him something close to his ear.

He's come a long way from pressing his ear against doors to hear what's not meant to be heard that he now perfected the perfect eavesdropping spell. He could use it, but going to speak to Horace in any case, he decides against it. He rather stops, waiting for her to finish before inclining his head to his left to indicate that she should get Horace's attention for him.

'You've come for her, have you?' is what Horace greets him when he reaches him. 'Do you have to be so rigid in your routine, Severus? Can't you allow her one night of leisure?'

'What ever do you mean?'

He really has no idea what made the man come to that conclusion.

'Miss Granger is convinced that you came to get her,' he explains. 'She's quite frightened that you'll go over to her and demand that she leaves the party.'

In his mind is the image of her seemingly glad to see him, and because of that, he looks over Horace's shoulder to her, looking to find where exactly on her face it says that she's frightened. She's looking their way, curious no doubt, but thinking about it, just what did she tell Horace before sending him here?

'Is she?' he asks Horace although his eyes are fixed only on her.

'Yes. You can't work her so hard, Severus.'

'As you say,' he responds returning to the man. 'I'd rather like to ask that you give Draco a pass into your club. I found him lurking outside the corridors and I'd say that he's bored, needing some activity to occupy his mind.'

'I've tried, Severus,' Horace tells him, looking disheartened about it. 'He has no interest in being in the club.'

He has no interest in advocating for Draco to join the Slug Club. The truth is that he's only come in here because Draco escaped him just as he was approaching, and not knowing how else to transform his little embarrassment of being successfully evaded, he took a few more steps to lead him to Horace's office. With a flimsy excuse in mind, he opted for saving his wasted trip by coming inside here.

'You've done what you could,' he feigns to agree, going back looking at Miss Granger who is still looking their way.

'Yes, of course,' the other man replies, turning around. 'And don't worry, I'll tell Miss Granger to leave right away.'

'I'll be outside,' he says, turning to leave the office.

Outside of the room, he stands waiting by the closed door, but as the seconds go by and the door doesn't open to bring her out, he starts to doubt if she will come out. If she's changed her mind, if she's let Horace convince her that he's 'working her too hard,' if someone's keeping her from leaving. He's on the verge of making up his mind to go back inside and see what's keeping her when the door swings back at last.

'I'm not here to get you,' he quickly reasons before she has a chance to say anything to her.

'I already told Professor Slughorn that you are,' she tells him, pulling the door shut behind her with the hand that isn't holding a platter of snacks.

'Well, I am not. Return to your place.'

He says that, not moving, but if she'd like to not return inside, he won't insist. She's only to say the word.

'I really don't want to, Professor,' she pleads, and it takes only that for him to realise what she did.

'I'm your excuse for leaving,' he states, watching her for her reaction.

He's not wrong, he gathers from her silence. It all makes perfect sense, that look from when he entered and how she kept her eyes on him and Horace while they spoke.

'Had I not come here?' he questions.

'I really don't want to be here, Professor,' is her begging reply.

'Fine,' he says, not even thinking to deny her and starting to move his feet.

'I didn't mean to use you,' she begins, following him. 'It was just so horrible in there. I am not one for parties, quite honestly.'

'I find myself accustomed to it since you have made it a regular occurrence now.'

'It was really dreadful, Professor, but then I saw you, and all I could think of was that I was finally free.'

'That you are,' he agrees, looking at her from the side.

She looks at him as well, hesitating for a beat only before she asks, 'Can we have a lesson tonight?'

She is real, he tells himself. She used his name to be free of the introductory Slug Club party, and he didn't mind that at all, but this he can't believe, so much so that he halts his steps.

'You don't intend to have your evening free?' he wants to know, and seeing her consider it, adds, 'Do not lie to me.'

'It would be nice if I could just finish my snacks in peace,' she begins, 'but I wouldn't mind if we had a lesson. I just don't want to go to my room yet.'

'We cannot have lessons.'

He planned on doing nothing else this evening and while he too wouldn't mind having a lesson, it's good to know that she's willing.

'I'll just find an empty classroom, then,' she nods. 'These snacks are really good. Would you like to have some, Professor?'

The platter being offered for him to see looks appetising, but again, it's enough that she's made the offer. Nothing further than that is necessary.

'Don't you need to find an empty classroom first?' he asks to politely dodge the offer, which she accepts.

'I'll be off now, Professor. Goodnight.'

He watches her leave knowing that he still has something to say, and when she is good distance away, wondering how easily she will come back to him if he asks her to, he calls her name.

'Miss Granger.'

No sooner than her name leaves his mouth, does she whirl back around, answering him with an expectant –rather greatly appreciated- look.

'I appreciate that you were willing to continue our lessons tonight.'

That she would forego a party with her peers to spend some time in his company, discussing dark arts, no less, is not something that he won't forget for a while to come. Or the alluringly meek nod that she gives before turning on her way away from him, leaving a small smile stuck on his face.

26Chapters

Concluding his meeting with Albus the following evening, the hot sting of the burning Mark presents itself on his arm. He could withstand the burn, simply remaining in his seat until Albus is finished with him, but his mind set on one thing in particular, has him hurriedly getting up from his chair and onto his feet. Except to make his eyes travel upwards with him, Albus thinks nothing of the abrupt change in position.

'Nothing will happen with him for now,' he is told with assurance.

'Don't be too certain of that, Albus,' he supplies, indicating to his arm with his head. 'There is a call.'

'It's all right, Severus,' Albus offers him a weak smile. 'I believe what I believe concerning the boy. Attend the meeting.'

It's not permission that he's getting, although he treats it as such, his mind already searching for the place that she's likely to be in.

'I will report to you back tomorrow, if you don't mind.'

Albus shakes his head in response, suggesting, 'On Monday, perhaps. I'm unavailable for the weekend.'

With an equally accepting and final nod, he begins to make his way out of the office. It's a strange thing to be in search of someone, not know where to find them and still be confident enough to go wherever necessary. He begins to look in the corridors closest to Albus' office, walking past statues and not even one ghost comes past him, one who he can ask about her.

Eventually, after more than fifteen minutes of looking around, with no help from anyone, he finds her in the crevices of the Ravenclaw territory with Weasley as her partner. Pure relief fills him for finally getting her, and so walks in long steps to her.

'I have been looking for you,' he urgently announces as he takes the last steps to her.

As though he simply can't be talking to her, she looks beside her to her friend and then back to him again.

'Me, Professor?' she asks, pointing to herself as though it's a ridiculous thing to imagine.

'Yes, you. Where have you been?'

Having asked that, he instantly realises what a stupid question it is, only, it's asked and he can do nothing about it now.

'Here,' she answers.

Clearly.

'There will be no lessons tonight and tomorrow night,' he begins to tell her. 'Or the night after that. We will resume on Monday.'

It's there on her face, she wants to ask him why, and all his mind can supply him with is that if Albus is going to be away all weekend, he'll need the weekend as well. It's rather a personal thing that even he should be afforded, but that he cannot tell her.

'Did you understand me?' is more fitting to come from him.

Her silence is not assuring at all. He can't leave without her giving him an answer.

'Yes, Professor,' she nods. 'Goodnight.'

'Goodnight, Miss Granger,' he says without paying his words any importance, swiftly turning and leaving in the opposite direction.

Leaving, he hears her friend mumble something close to, 'You'd think I'm invisible!' only, it means nothing to him. The boy can think what he wants. As for him, he needs to reach a place from where he can Apparate to the Dark Lord's side.

Tonight, he'll attend this meeting with the Dark Lord, but then he would like to be of no service to anyone else for the rest of the weekend.

26Chapters

Absolute silence meets his sudden appearance. Not one sound is uttered as everyone congregated in the room slowly turns their eyes from their pale leader at the highest point of the table, to him standing beside Yaxley's seat.

No one in the presence of the Dark Lord can make a move before he sees it fit to; it's a rule that has never been said, but it has never needed to be said. The other members are at least wise to not say anything about his presence, which is why not concerned with their feelings on the matter, he directs his full attention to the Dark Lord, whose expressionless face -iron straight with no defining lines to paint his emotions- merely waits upon him.

'My apologies, my lord,' he says, having understood the silent cue.

He is privileged, while under the bondage of scholarly duties, to arrive late without a great enquiry from the Dark Lord.

'You've joined us at last,' the Dark Lord welcomes and he takes that to be an invitation to sit.

26Chapters

Though his time would much better be spent away from this Manor, here he is watching Lucius make a show of preparing him a drink.

'Would you stop with that, Lucius!' he irritably snaps. 'I don't care for a drink.'

The other man does stop fiddling with the bottle and glasses, though only for the required amount of time to dryly say, 'It's bad manners to not make the offer, Severus,' and then go right back to what he was doing.

Letting out a heavy breath, he accepts the display only because he was the one to pull Lucius aside after the meeting on Friday night and request a meeting. Had it not been for that, his presence in this house would have been a memory to him. As it is, patience is being drawn out of him while waiting through the preparation of drinks.

Once finished, Lucius takes only three steps towards him, handing him his drink with an inviting expression. Even as he takes the glass, his legs are already heading to the place where the drink was made. Simply to get under Lucius skin, he also makes a show of placing the glass onto the table before finally facing the man.

'That was impolite,' Lucius tells him and then takes a long sip from his glass.

'Do you have any idea of how your son is faring, Lucius?' he roughly gets right to the point now that there's no other lacking formality between them.

'Oh, don't speak to me about the boy in that tone!' the man jeers at him. 'Until you have children of your own, you could never understand the anger and disappointment of a father.'

For a second time, his acquaintance tips the drink down his mouth, this swig longer than the last and finishing all of it, flings the glass away from him. Where the fall and shatter of the glass would have been inevitable, a creature appears so suddenly to catch the glass, disappearing instantly afterwards and leaving no trace of what happened behind. Clearly, he thinks as he fixes his eyes on Lucius again, the man is terribly curt and on edge concerning the subject, that much is evident, however, that is no concern of his.

'Be that as it is, it does not answer my question,' he calmly returns, not in the least bit insulted. 'Do you know how he is faring or not?'

Lucius, as though lightly struck by some invisible force in the face, turns his face away, beginning to walk around in a circle - a look of disturbance present on his face.

'And how should I know that, if he spends all of his time at the school, Severus?'

Whatever accusation is buried in that question, whatever contempt covered over his desperation, he is not in the mind to wonder about. His reason for this small meeting was to see if Lucius has some information on what Draco is planning, not to be an ear for the man to unburden in. The Dark Lord is also a thorn in his life and yet, he keeps his burdens to himself.

'He ought to be careful,' he tells Lucius. 'Advise him to be so. He refuses my help and I cannot force his hand without arousing suspicion. Write to him daily, if you must, only make sure to speak with him. If he is to carry on as he is doing, there'd be no doubt in anyone's mind that he is up to something.'

'Very well,' he accepts with a dismissive hand wave. 'I shall talk to his mother. He tends to listen to her more than he does to me lately.'

Sternly, he responds with, 'Do so,' bringing their meeting to an end.

He wishes for nothing more than to leave this place.

26Chapters

On his weaker days and nights, he really does wish that he had someone waiting for him once he got home. And not even that, because this whole day, a Sunday, he hasn't left his rooms and still, he's only been sunken in his chair, watching the fire burn. There's been no one else inside here with him.

What a life.

His lesser tasks are relegated to elves, mostly Lefa, and there's no one to welcome him back on the hard nights that he returns from the Dark Lord. There's no one to offer him anything, not a cat or an owl to stare at him when he enters his own rooms. How his day went, he'll never relay to anyone - unless Albus asks.

Previously, out of necessity, he spent time with Sybill, who he never told her much more than surface and basic things. Lucius, his closer acquaintance, has never invited deep confidence to that point, he's only concerned with what's beneficial to him and his family. There's simply no one in his life who sees all of him.

Although, there's Miss Granger.

That little light of natural kindness that comes from her; just offering him a smile when they meet in the corridors or mentioning something as simple as a book that she found interesting while reading, speaks words of being thought of when she goes about her normal day. Could she be aware of what she really does to him?

He cannot say how it happened, but after nightly lessons with her, somewhere in between the probably eight real jokes in total that they've made since the beginning, he gave something of himself to her and she to him, without either of them realising it. Or perhaps, because teaching her gets his mind off Draco, his vows to Narcissa and Albus, keeping in line with the Dark Lord, so that he doesn't slip up, he's been cherishing them as he would fresh air.

The thing is, he is a man with a heart, and the thing about the heart is that it has the ability to attach itself to that which it perceives to be better. Sometimes, the heart has a way of mistaking human decency for feelings and translating them as such, especially when it's been starved for so long. It's what he did with Lily, really; he latched onto the goodness that he had never known and ever since, never let it go. It could be that he is doing the same thing with her, even knowing that he's bound to never see her again after Albus' death.

He is a fool for it. He is a fool, treading upon a path that will leave him longing once he leaves it, but he will keep on along it, because what else can he do? It's not as though the path is meant to take him to any specific point, it's simply a path that he likes being on and will continue on it until he no longer can.