Ch 3

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"

"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."

-Lewis Carrol

Severus could feel the dark strands of his hair falling into his eyes and slightly obscuring his vision. However, he didn't let that sway his concentration. He was working on an exploding potion and as described by its name it was extremely volatile. He had just finished the fifty stirs needed after adding in the red spider. Years of practice made it possible for him to continue chopping the flowers into fine pieces without injuring himself. Especially since he kept looking up and across the room. Normally the potion would be an acid green colour. But he found that by adding a blue acid pop instead of the separate ingredients of water, sugar, and juice, made the potion much more explosive but the contents itself less harmful when skin made contact with it. Concentrate. He told himself the same thing over the last hour every time he caught himself staring across the floor.

It took a month for Severus to finally get over himself and finally accept Hermione Granger's help. It wasn't easy. Every nerve and instinct in his body was telling him to dismiss and ignore her presence. However, he was able to resist that voice, for the most part. Unfortunately, it was too easy to fall into old patterns. Any glare he sent her way was well deserved in his mind. But he learned to hold his tongue and bite back on his remarks. After a while, it became easier for him to simply act without having to remind himself.

And by doing what he was best at, hiding silently in the shadows and observing, he was quite surprised by the deductions he was able to make.

Severus Snape would never claim to be an expert on who Hermione Granger is. He wasn't familiar enough to proclaim that he knew her. But now as he works alongside her. There were complexities towards her that he never considered before. He never had to. But they were on plane display. Despite how hard she tried to hide them. And his previous observations, he admits, were two-dimensional. After working together for several months it was hard to ignore the obvious.

She was a very forgiving individual. She didn't hold a grudge against him after their argument. He never apologized for his wicked words, nor did she ever ask for one. She simply moved on as if she had forgotten all about it. And not wanting to argue over something so pointless, Severus simply followed her lead.

After that night they were both initially treading on ice. Both were hesitant about what was acceptable to say. He was used to working alone and wasn't quite familiar with playing nice with others. Being open was a foreign concept and patience wasn't exactly his virtue. He tried to reign in his temper and for a month the two of them when not discussing his summons often worked in silence. It was better than the alternative. He couldn't persuade her to resubmit to his authority as a teacher. And she couldn't be in charge and command him. They had to find a balance. A partnership. And it was quite difficult to establish.

Thankfully the steps were quite easy. Communication is supposedly the key to every successful relationship. Conversation was necessary for their partnership. Both of the success of their roles depended on their ability to communicate understandably.

And after a while, while together in a small confined space, the silence could be deafening. And talking was the only thing left to do.

Finally, another potion to cross off his never-ending lists of tasks given to him by the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord has decided that since he was no longer teaching, despite having to run an entire school and blissfully unaware that he was still spying, has given him a page list of potions he wished brewed. He was under the impression that he now had more free time to serve him. Which was obviously not the case. Even though he didn't supply the infirmary anymore, depending on what he had to brew, he would make extra and discretely stock up the stores. It was better if the students still had access to certain healing potions at a moment's notice. Especially since the Carrows have been made in charge of discipline and punishment. He currently had his Murtlap essence developing. The tentacles had to soak in cold water before he had to remove the outside layer of skin and boil the fat down into a paste. And his Veritserum was coming along quite nicely. It was a pinkish hue and still needed to settle for another 9 days before it would become completely clear. The next thing for him to start is the blood replenishing potion. He quickly washed his knives and cutting board by hand. Cleansing charms can be fickle and in potions, he couldn't risk possible cross-contamination. He still had much to do. He was only half ⅔ complete of the first page and he had to have everything done by next weekend. It wasn't as though he was planning on getting much sleep anyway. Despite that, his thoughts were occupied by ingredients and measurements and the number of stirs clockwise and counterclockwise. His mind continued to wander back to her. Even before his eyes did.

He remembered the first time they had a real conversation after their argument. And not just about his report or basic greetings.

He wasn't sure what they were talking about. But he remembered how tired he felt. The way his eyes were no doubt bloodshot from the amount of times he continued to rub them. He wished so desperately he could take off his robes and numerously buttoned shirt and just collapse into bed. He didn't even think he could manage to take his boots off. He was leaning back in his chair. Barely keeping his eyes open. Not really following along with what she was saying. Until she seemed to get quiet before asking. She wasn't blind she could clearly see how stressful this job was for him. And despite his attempts to remain unemotional it was difficult to hide the sign of physical stress on his body. "If you could change things, would you?"

He never hesitated when he gave his reply, "No, what I do is important." He had thought about his situation, in-depth for months, and even before he killed Dumbledore. His spying before was much different, somehow easier, than now. After he agreed to kill Dumbledore he grew wary of his decision and guilty. He tried to find a way around the unbreakable vow but… The logical part of him overruled his personal feelings. If he didn't do this job then someone else would. Though shortly after he realized that no one else could or would. No one in the order would be able to kill Dumbledore. They were all a bunch of bleeding heart Gryffindors and wouldn't be able to put aside their emotions to see the importance of killing Dumbledore. For a man they all cared so deeply for none of them were willing to put aside their personal differences and darken their soul to ease the man of his pain and give him a quick death on his own terms. Dumbledore referred to what Severus was about to do as a mercy killing or assisted suicide. In his mind, it wasn't murder. But it didn't ease his conscious. And on top of the moral issues of the Order members, he didn't know if they could use dark magic. The only person in the order who was qualified and could do it was Mad-eye but even he wouldn't do it. Despite Madam Pomphrey being a healer, she couldn't ease his pain in the way he needed, she was only a pediatrician after all. Killing Dumbledore would be obsolete in the grand scheme of things if the person who killed him wasn't a death eater. He had been spying for years to gain the Dark Lord's trust and to infiltrate the inner circle of the Death Eaters. No one would commit their life to such a cause. No one in their right mind. And even if someone did join they would quickly want to escape once they realized what was being asked of them. Or they would be discovered and killed. Then on top of that not many people had the necessary skills to be a spy. He did. And it didn't make him feel better. "I am the best person for the job."

"Wow, how humble of you?" Her attitude didn't appear to be scornful or judgmental. But to him, it was all the same.

He breathed heavily, resisting the urge to turn to anger. "Sometimes I wish someone else had to be the bad guy. But that would be selfish," his voice came out almost like a growl. He looked her straight into the eye. Most people found his stare uncomfortable but she didn't turn away.

There was a moment before the corners of her mouth turned up. "Careful that almost sounded like something a Gryffindor would say." He almost laughed at the ridiculous turn the conversation had gone. Him a Gryffindor? How ludicrous. He might actually prefer death to it.

"I'd watch myself if I were you. Sneaking around with a known traitor is something a Slytherin would do." She had a full-blown smile at this point. It appears his attempt to insult her was received as a compliment.

Once he began to initiate conversation everything began to fall into a familiar pattern. Not exactly comfortable, but steady and reliable. When he put his preconceived notions aside he found that the two of them could work together synchronously and not be running circles around one another. Their tempers though easily a match for another. There methods were quite complimentary. And despite the personality traits that often caused conflicts. It never deterred them. They shared a common goal that they were both committed to. The end of the war and to see the Dark Lord's corpse. Their work progressed much more than he originally anticipated.

It was apparent that she had an exceptional memory. Anything she heard or saw she could remember almost exactly. He had just as good of a memory as she did. He had to. He often had to rely on his ability to be in a place one time and be able to recall all of the details of the room. Everything from the dimensions of the room to how many objects could be used as weapons were. She liked to visually see the problem in front of her. It wasn't uncommon for her to make use of his chalkboards and have them filled top to bottom in her neat and tiny writing depicting several arithmancy equations he didn't bother to read. While he preferred to do it in his head. Not many potion masters would prefer to not write down their brewing process especially during the experimental phase. He typically spoke out loud. It was easier for him to clarify his thoughts. He was pleasantly surprised to find that she had been writing down his thoughts and all of it's processes into neat and organized notes. He couldn't deny her notes were extensive but very precise. When she wasn't holding on to them and being anal about their specif order they provided very useful.

She was quite good at articulating her thoughts, while he often struggled. She never hesitated to speak her mind and voice her opinions. Even though he found some of them to be trivial and broken down to their basic form. She probably had to do that all of the time so that Potter and Weasley could understand her. Even when he fell silent when explaining something, since he assumed, wrongfully, that she couldn't follow allong. She was able to pick up on his silence and continued to complete the idea he had in his head.

Both of them were similar in the way they relied on intellect to fuel their actions and reasoning. However, their responses began to divert after that. Working in such close quarters gave him the opportunity to understand how different she was from him.

She was more rigid in her routine while he was more willing to be adaptable if the situation ever called for it. She relied heavily on organization and though he appreciated the order he relied and depended on his instinct when thrown into chaos. At first glance, she appears to be just as introverted as he is. Both of them could easily sit beside each other for days without saying a word to one another if they had a book in their hands. And even in the company of others he would simply ignore them and become more withdrawn as every minute passes where he is forced with their company. She on the other hand would be more willing to engage in conversation and encourage their enthusiasm. Even though she was more empathetic than him, sometimes she could be just as callous as him when it comes to seeing emotions. Their initial response is to use logic to understand emotions. Which both knew couldn't always work. Though she was more willing to face and embrace her emotions while he preferred to turn a blind eye and bury them six feet under.

She was instinctively curious. Her thirst for knowledge was unparalleled in anyone he ever met before. She was skilled at identifying patterns and truly seemed to enjoy solving patterns. He couldn't tell if she was a very contemplative person since the wheels always seemed to be turning in her head. And he had no idea how many theories and equations she had in there that she was trying to solve. Probably simultaneously for that matter. He preferred that she was rational and often engaged in analytic reasoning.

She still asked him a lot of questions. But it made him see things differently. He gained a new perspective and recalled details at the time he didn't think were important. But once they were written down he could see new patterns and mannerisms emerging. The Dark Lord's behaviour was becoming more predictable. Despite being the ruler of the ministry and having taken over Britain. He seemed indifferent to it all. His behaviour gave the impression that he was bored. He kept leaving the country in search of something. For something more. He never left for too long, usually 3-5 days. And based on his previous trips being more on the longer side he wouldn't return till Friday in which he will summon his death eaters to him. As if checking to make sure all of his ducks were in a row.

He still wasn't very fond of her new found role in his life. But that wasn't necessarily directed at her. He began to appreciate her presence. And it appears as though his feelings were reciprocated.

"If I disappeared. No one would ever notice," he whispered to himself while staring down at some of her notes. He was rereading how many people were killed. Though not in front of him. This information he had gathered from the boisterous commentary of the other death eaters. Who were bragging about all of the fun they had on a raid. At least 11 muggles were killed. Including twin girls. They were only 7. He sighed heavily. What good was being a spy when he couldn't save lives. But he knew logically the lives he saved in the long run and future were more important than those he could possibly save at the moment while risking his cover and possibly being killed. It still didn't ease his conscious though. He was drowning in his guilt and had half a bottle of whisky by his side.

He thought he was alone. She had left five minutes ago. But apparently, she had forgotten something and came back to retrieve it. He never heard her enter. And so he turned around in surprise to grab his wand when he heard her voice. "I would."

He stared at her in shock before he couldn't bear to look her in the eyes.

She softly said, "Goodnight sir," as she closed the door behind him, returning his privacy to him once again.

She could keep up quite well with him verbally. However, he tried not to push it too far in the beginning. The last thing he needed is her becoming upset by something he says and having to fight with her. He reigned down on his snark; however, he couldn't possibly be expected to lower his sarcasm as well. She didn't seem to take much offence though when he stepped a toe over the line. Though she could probably differentiate between snark and sarcasm better than most. Hence why she hasn't been offended lately.

He walked up to her one day when she didn't give him his routine acknowledgment and pleasantries. His hands were crossed behind his back and when he came to stand behind her not quite looking over her shoulder since he was taller than that. Her back wasn't flush to his chest but they were close enough that she must have been able to feel his presence. To feel the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "What's wrong?"

Her arms were crossed in front of her and she bit her lip as she stood and stared stubbornly at the chalkboard in front of her. "I have a problem."

He couldn't help but amuse "Just one?" while smirking. Though as a second thought he realized it may have been inappropriate to say. Like most things he thought.

He could practically feel her roll her eyes as she replied "Yes, just one." Her voice was neutral. He couldn't detect any hints of anger. It surprised him. He was curious how far he could take it.

"You might want to recount that." He never looked down to see her reaction. Just continued to look at the chalkboard. The arithmancy equation in front of him was… complex. It surpassed the standard homework for sixth-year students. The highest level of education she had so far completed. The complexity even surpassed what some masters worked on. She was no doubt clever and could never be denied of being called a quick learner. From his understanding, it was her favourite subject. He on the other hand, though did receive his NEWT in arithmancy has little to no practice over the years. Though it is often used in potion-making he preferred practical knowledge to theory-based algorithms. In comparison to her skill before him, he was absolute rubbish in the subject.

"Care to elaborate, sir." She also never diverted her eyes away from in front of her.

"Would you like me to list them chronically or alphabetically?" Both of them stood tall and though they were not necessarily relaxed. They weren't rigid in their stance either.

"Ugh. Never mind, I will figure it out myself," she said indignantly. She wasn't angry or flustered but more so amused. He was pleased to see her answer was almost teasing. Her response could be taken as her trying to solve on her own the problem in front of her or the problems he alluded to. He almost dare say that it was fun for him, not to have to hold back so much on his sarcasm. Especially now that he discovered she could take it.

And in some cases, she could dish it right back to him.

"Merlin, this is why I wished I didn't get up in the morning," Severus said after he entered his lab and saw Miss Granger surrounded by a dozen books. Strawn across the floor as she sat crossed legend in the middle.

She held one up in front of her face. She didn't hesitate to reply, "But if you did that, then there would be too many happy students around." She never moved her book and as he continued to stare at her in disbelief at her response, she proceeded to turn the next page and continued reading for the next 20 minutes.

He didn't necessarily think that she was sensitive. He did think that any teenager was emotional and ruled by their hormones. But she seemed to have more control than most of the other students he has had the misfortune of interacting with. He would probably throw himself off the astronomy tower if he had to deal with her having a tantrum or excessive crying. Her current behaviour of politeness, neutral-based opinions, and non-invasive questions was acceptable.

He was able to cope with that.

While Miss Granger focused meticulously on all of the little details before adding them all together. He often saw the bigger picture. He originally saw his partnership with her before seeing her. He learned more about her in this last month than the previous knowledge he had of her that he obtained over the years. He learned who Hermione Granger was.

He never really took in her appearance before. Obviously, he was aware of the basic features that distinguished her from another individual. Female, curly brown hair, short. But his biggest distinction was always that she was the one who raised her hand in his class and always asked questions. But right now as he looked at her from across the room while continuously stirring his potion, she was unaware of his stare. He was able to take in every detail.

She was shorter than most of her classmates and definitely shorter than him. But not outside of the normal range for her sex. She often had to stand on the balls of her feet when having to reach for something. Usually just outside the edge of her grasp. It was then he began to notice that even when she walked she walked on the forefront of her toes. Slightly bouncing and bobbing as she moved. It made her appear more chipper than she already was. Though she was often excited and had a smile on her face she always tried to hide the fact that was sometimes tired. She never tried to hide the dark circles under her eye. Even when she was upset she tried not to frown unless she was truly disappointed. Her facial expressions were easy to read. Her eyes were always so expressive. Most of the time she preferred to sit quietly and read her books. Even if she was listening to another person speak. She would still hold the book open in her hands so that when the other person was down talking she didn't have to waste time trying to hunt down the page she was on. Despite her ability to talk exuberantly, her body language was quite relaxed. It almost amused him when she got excited about how she could instantly transform into a kid running around a candy shop.

She stood up straight and was unafraid to make eye contact. It was obvious that she probably struggled with people respecting her and no doubt made sure that no one ever doubted her professionalism. She was wearing a pair of dark-washed jeans and running shoes. Her shirt was short-sleeved and purple. It exposed her collar but left her modestly dressed. He never once thought of his students as more than students and as children despite their age. But as he took in the sight of her especially from the side or back there was no ignoring that she was an adult and her body had undoubtedly matured. Though she was petite there were still curves to her body. Smooth lines that when not covered with jumpers or long sweaters could be traced with one's eyes.

Her face was plain, had big brown eyes and brown curls that framed her face. Her skin was tanned with golden hues, which made her eyes and hair appear darker and rich. She was a simple and normal 18-year-old in regards to the way she looked and acted. She wasn't physically very striking, despite her hair, but she usually allowed her personality to be the main focus of her appearance.

She was extremely strongly opinionated. She believed that there was a right answer and a correct solution for everything. She just had to find it. She was clearly of the opinion that everyone who appears to be sorry deserved a second chance and forgiveness. She never shied away from responsibility. And understood the importance of time. She wasn't ashamed of who she was. Though her outward demeanour didn't initially scream confidence. It was there laying underneath the surface.

Though she preferred to read historical books and nonfiction. She did always carry around a fantasy book that she would resort to as a distraction. He recognized the cover and font from the Adventures of Alice in Wonderland. He never saw her reading it but he did see that it was old and worn from use so that the bookmark she carried in it moved further to the end as time progressed. She never really ate much while in his lab but she always carried an apple with her in case she was hungry. She preferred to drink coffee while they were working, only drinking tea when it was so late and sleep was close upon her. She was right-handed. And he rarely saw her make use of her left hand. In fact, it was peculiar for her to even use it for something as simple as pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She never really slouched. Even when she was tired she leaned forward and used her hand to keep her head up. She never seemed to be hesitant in her mannerism or questioned her actions unless they pertained to him. It was clear she was comfortable in her own skin and what she perceived as normal behaviour for her.

He knew that she was incredibly loyal to those she cared about however he was surprised that loyalty was extended to him. She was a considerably kind individual. And not for the reasons Severus was used to. He was familiar with people being kind to him to get something in return. But Miss Granger never expected anything. It baffled him that someone could be so kind for selfless reasons. But he quickly learned that she was one of the most selfless people he has ever met. The world demands a lot out of her. High expectations were placed on her from a young age. And had been placed on a pedestal that could go any higher. The only movement could be her fall. And yet she never lowered the bar and continued to prevail in the face of adversity. Never once asking for help or praise.

She has often been labelled as the Brightest Witch of her age. He never understood that until he saw the way she could juggle various tasks simultaneously while continuing to maintain an exceptional performance. Her intellect was not merely limited to books as he originally thought. Her understanding of the material and her ability to break down theory and analyze it was only matched by himself. He was relieved to find that she found divination as foolish of a subject as he did. She based her knowledge on facts. He did as well until his own experience proved otherwise. It was almost, he dared to say, fun to be able to bounce his ideas off of her.

He was also surprised to note that she knew more about the dark arts than he anticipated. The subject matter was barely discussed during classes due to its taboo nature. Anyone ever caught researching it is immediately labelled as an outcast. He learned that quickly during his childhood. And yet her knowledge was more extensive than basic background information. In his mind, it was better to be prepared and to know what the worst kind of magic is out there. How on earth are students expected to defend themselves from the dark arts if they didn't even know what type of dark magic exists. The only dark magic the students are explicitly taught are the unforgivables and they are worst spells out there that make the crutiotus seem as though it were a simply tickling charm.

Most people don't even know that there are different levels of dark magic. Potions, the ones that were considered a part of the dark arts, are not technically illegal. They were viewed as taboo subject matter. Most people couldn't associate potions, a branch of magic typically used for healing ailments, to also be the cause of it. Even though there was a section on poisons in the syllabus every year. It was funny to Severus how the one area of the dark arts he most often engaged in, while also being the less illegal, is the reason when growing up everyone thought he was a deranged death eater. Dark Creatures was another branch of dark magic that wasn't illegal. Well, the studying of magical creatures isn't. Being one depending on what it was could be. For the most part, though dark creatures weren't much of a concern unless a human was also a dark creature. Werewolves, though no longer illegal, are still criminalized. And Vampires were banned from Britain. Dark spells were illegal, but as long as they weren't used in the context of a duel or one person casting a spell on another then they weren't of any real threat. Most of the time they were in the form of wards. Dark artifacts tended to be viewed worse than simple dark spells. Mostly due to the fact that if an object has been enchanted with enough powerful magic that it can retain the magic intent for years. And most of the time unsuspecting. Curses can be more extreme. The unforgiveables were of course among them. But there were more painful curses. Some could slowly melt a person's internal organs. Another could shut down the entire human nervous system, preventing the use of each body part one by one slowly until someone is left quadriplegic. He invented his own curses. However, he made sure to not share them, and yet Potter still got his hands on Sectumsempra. The spell itself was no more dangerous than a cutting curse. That all second years are taught. The only difference is that his curse is impervious to healing charms and potions. There is only one counter curse and only he knows it. Dark Rituals were at the highest and most dangerous types of magic. It was a branch of magic that even he chose not to engage in. Some of the rituals that exist are so deranged, disgusting, not to mention the range of how unethical their ability to deprive someone of their human rights is. Miss Granger appears to have researched all of the branches of dark magic. Though she specifically focused on artifacts and curses. She was also more aware of rituals than most people. Including staff or Order members.

Despite her currently having her back turned to him and facing towards a chalkboard. He could still see that she was nibbling on the edge of a quill. It was a habit she often engaged in. If not a quill then the edge of her thumb. He guessed that she did it to stop herself from talking out loud. Any time he caught her reading she always did that. She always had this small beaten up and torn rucksack with her. The colour and condition of the bag made it appear as though it was made from a pair of distressed blue jeans. From the times he caught her rummaging through it and seeming to be able to pull out any book that she desired. He was able to deduce that it had an undetectable extension charm on it. And once when he tried to move it off of some parchment. It gave him an unexpected shock. Nothing like the crutiotus but still a surprise. Even right now that bag was on the bench closest to her. He had become so used to the sight of her and her mannerism he could paint her from memory if he had to.

There is obviously more to her than meets the eye.

Hermione Granger when the situation called for it, even when it doesn't, could be like a hurricane. Her hair was certainly a whirlwind. Its curls radiate static electricity. And if anyone tried to cross her, she took no prisoners. He was perfectly aware that kindhearted bookworm had a vindictive streak. The Ravenclaw had a scar on her forehead for almost a year before the word sneak faded. She let her defence teacher get carried off by centaurs. Though he couldn't blame her for that one. He was personally trying to think of a way to discreetly drop one of the suits of armour on her. Hell, she even created a secret underground army just so she could learn defence when her teacher was failing to provide a promising education. She could be ruthless. She was unafraid or bashful in being bossy and demanding. Her opinion is often at times unwavering. Her temper though was subdued by her complientness associated with years of being a well-behaved student. Often following orders without second-guessing.

And so at first, when they began working together, Severus couldn't figure out why she was so damn stubborn with him. Until he realized he wasn't the one giving the orders. She was following Dumbledore's order just as he was. They were both subservient to the late headmaster's rule. Which apparently meant to her they were on an even playing field. He on the other hand was just beginning to discover the extent of having Miss Granger as his handler truly meant.

As the world spun into chaos all around them. In this secret potion's lab, there was peace. And though he loathes to admit it. Dumbledore was right. They do work well together. Though he would never admit it. This situation could have been a whole lot more stressful. But that wasn't to say it was a walk in the park. Nor did he doubt it would ever be. Out of all the people he could be forced to work with she was one of the better options. He could have been subjected to report to Lupin or Mad eye or worse McGonagall. She would have given him that look every time she saw him. The look that read disappointment and sadness. He didn't know if that was better or worse than her current hostility towards him. And despite his initial misgiving with Miss Granger, she was at least easier to handle once he began to understand her.

He underestimated her.

Despite her optimistic outlook on life. She wasn't ignorant to the harsh realities of life. She knew the odds of what type of torture she would suffer at the hands of the male death eaters. She knew how biased the wizarding world was to muggle-borns despite their self-promoted inclusion. She knew as a female and muggle-born she would face hardship trying to prove her worth in society. She merely never let it dissuade her from at least attempting to reach her goals. He, on the other hand, was used to disappointment and was undoubtedly a pessimist. After seeing the worst in human nature it was extremely difficult to expect to see the good.

She seemed to be handling the war quite well. The horror of the current state of the wizarding world didn't appear to phase her. Though he wasn't referring to the emotional impact of being surrounded by fear, pain, and death. She wasn't surprised by how the ministry was operating now that the Dark Lord has effectively taken over the ministry. Nor was she surprised that the ministry was infiltrated in the first place. She no doubt had an understanding of history and was familiar with the stages of the war that took place during world wars in the muggle world. For him, he was faced with the realities of war for almost 20 years. It was different for her. The war, though beginning at the end of her fourth year, was commissioned and acted out in secret for the first year. And even during her sixth year when violence, raids, and disappearances began, she was still in the moderate safety of being at Hogwarts. Her day-to-day routine was never really disruptive until this year. With her being unable to attend her seventh year due to restrictions on muggle-borns.

There was a strength within her that he never considered, a fire and a passion. A drive that was inspired by selflessness. Any time he had to report back from a meeting where he witnessed an innocent person being tortured or killed, or even when he relayed a conversation he overheard about a death eater bragging about their new "slave" they decided to break in. It showed her strength and resolve.

One day when he was describing the way a woman who was late in her 20's was kidnapped and held hostage for weeks before being repeatedly sexually abused by multiple men and women. He was able to ease his guilt by acknowledging that she died quickly during the assault and didn't have to endure more pain. But he noticed the way Miss Granger looked green as he discussed the details. He was able to disassociate himself from what he saw. It was easier for him to accept and process the facts of what he saw if he compared them and processed them on the same level as reading from a history book. Instead of watching a movie with a torture scene. But for her, she was in a way still shielded from the specifics and play-by-play of true torture. Especially when it was gender-specific.

"We can stop if you'd like," he said once realizing that she might relate and be secondarily triggered by the trauma he was discussing. She may not have experienced this type of pain herself. But she was a muggle-born and knew that this was what all of the male death eaters, him being the exception, wanted to do to her. It never really occurred to him how difficult this all must be for her. He unfortunately was used to the horrors of war. Death, blood, torture and despair. He had been accustomed to and had learned to adapt a long time ago. He never personally partook in the raids. His job for the Dark Lord was to mainly collect information and report back to him, brew potions, and to conduct research. Sometimes he was in the presence of victims being tortured and had to watch as they were tortured. To have their screams echo within his head. But he rarely had to harm someone since all of the other death eaters were willingly lining up to get a crack at them. The most he contributed to their pain was by doing nothing and standing by without interfering. Or the potions he invented or were in the developing stage were used on them to cause pain. Sometimes he would kill them. But considering that they would be held hostage for years, used as slaves and eventually used for breeding once the novelty of sexually abusing them wore off, it seemed like mercy. It didn't make him feel better though. Causing their deaths still had an emotional toll on them regardless of the circumstances. Even if it was a mercy killing. It was the only way he could spare them from the pain they had already insured and would have to for whatever time they had left on this earth. There was a reason why Dumbledore had him report directly to him instead of sharing this information with the rest of the order. But for her, this was still so new. She didn't have a hardened shell as he did.

"No, it's f… I can keep going," She responded after a moment of hesitation. She took a deep breath and though she didn't compose herself, she steadied herself in preparedness to keep moving forward with the details.

.

He admired her perseverance. She was willing to focus on the task at hand without allowing herself to be personally involved. But It was difficult since it was so close to home. Hell, it was difficult the first time around for him and again by speaking of it. She didn't need to put on a brave front for him. He understood. "It's understandable if you need to take a breather. This undoubtedly has an impact on you." He was hesitant in his speech. He wasn't sure how to comfort her since, by no means, was any of this okay. But he was hoping to display some level of sympathy, though the concept was quite foreign to him.

She looked at him with a steady eye. Though her hands were on her hips instead of on the paper and quill. She was trying to push on and right now she needed him to push her forward. "If you can keep going then I can. I just have to listen. You're the one who had to witness all of this." It probably wasn't advisable, anyone else would have stopped. But he understood better than most that sometimes sacrifices had to be made. And that in order to push beyond what we were comfortable with we had to experience uncomfortableness. "I'm good, let's go through this again," she said again.

Her determination was admirable. Though to him if it wasn't for what they were discussing and the sensitive nature of the subject matter he could easily have mistaken her strong will for stubbornness.

But sometimes it felt as though she was hiding something from him. The only thing that gave him that impression was that sometimes she seemed abashed and ashamed in her behaviour as if she revealed too much. Instead of simple hesitation and embarrassment. She sometimes seemed to know more than what she should know. He was aware of her affinity for learning anything she could get her hands on but some of the subject matter were things she would have no need for and wouldn't have even been mentioned throughout the curriculum. And her ability to understand the Dark Lord's actions and motives was impressive. Perhaps her muggle upbringing gave her an insight that the other members of the Order couldn't comprehend.

The two of them were sitting opposite of one another. Severus was working on some paperwork he had to finish for the board of governors while reiterating his latest meeting. It was significantly shorter and only contained himself and the Dark Lord. And though some Death Eaters were lurking around the manor he had no interaction with them. He did however point out to Miss Granger who was present. He and the Dark Lord simply walked along a corridor while he requested, though, in reality, it was a demand for him to look into the books at Hogwarts to see what books there were about a certain type of magic. "His interest appears to have turned towards ancestral wards."

"Is he looking into the wards around Hogwarts or perhaps the ones around the Order?" She was busy scribbling away at her parchment. She always wrote a timeline of events in black ink while underlining certain aspects that she would eventually question him and detail in another sheet in red. She also had a journal written in blue containing numbers and dates. She referred to it when looking for behavioural patterns and making statistics.

He had originally thought along the same line but dismissed both ideas. "My guess is neither."

He sighed as he was painfully reminded of his new career. And he thought teaching was bad but being Headmaster was surprisingly worse. He almost preferred marking essays to doing paperwork as Headmaster. "As Headmaster I am in charge of implementing and taking down the wards around Hogwarts. Though some were built into the foundation and are irreversible. My first act as Headmaster courtesy of the Dark Lord was to ensure that the wards prevented the students and staff from leaving. Since there are no more Hogsmeade trips they would have no reason to. I also had to block all mail coming and going. However, I was able to implement new ones without his knowledge that ensured no student could be killed with dark magic within the halls of Hogwarts." Those that would want to harm the students would only use dark magic to achieve their ends. "As well as having an alarm go off in the infirmary and the head offices every time a student is hit with magic." It wasn't very hard to do. The school was very accepting of magic that aided in the safety of the students. "Something that everyone forgets is that Hogwarts itself is fueled with magic. Its very essence and foundation are alive. And it is aware that there are intruders on its property and will resist their presence."

"Like how the Headmasters office rejected Umbridge as headmaster." She clarified while looking up from her notes.

"Yes."

"Then why didn't it reject you?" She wasn't rude in her question. It was a legitimate question.

"Intent. As you know all magic is based on intent."

She stopped her scribbling and looked at him inquisitively before realization overcame her features. "The school is aware of your true loyalties." He smirked at her astoundedness. Then she huffed in indignation before leaning back in her chair. "It's a miracle no one else has figured it out."

He agreed with the sentiment. All of Dumbledore's plans could have been revealed. If someone got curious and started to investigate the inconsistencies. However, most people walking the halls weren't exactly intelligent." Most people are unaware of the extent and infiniteness power magic holds.

"As for Headquarters, the ancestral wards were passed down to Potter as stated in Black's will. Even if it wasn't. It would still answer to him since he is a blood relative of the Blacks. "At her confused look, he clarified, "His grandmother. But as of right now the wards specifically keep out those that weren't informed of the secret when Dumbledore was the secret keeper. The secret died with him."

He noticed that she had put down her quill and was looking intently at him with interest. "Then how are you prevented from getting in?"

He wasn't surprised that she was unaware. No doubt the Order had continued their persistent idea that the children shouldn't be involved in Order affairs. And in this case what wards kept the traitor from killing them all in their sleep. Even though none of the so-called children were underage and were in a way more involved in this war than the adults. "The wards don't stop me from getting in. A jinx does. It prevents me from revealing the location. And since it would be suicide for me to show my face there again. The order believes it to be proficient protection," he lectured while procrastinating his work.

Her mouth was agape before she closed it. "That's not really comforting." She went back to her notes before realizing what she said and quickly looked back up, "No offence."

He shrugged off her comment. "Besides his interest in ancestral wards, I am not sure what purpose or application he has for them. From my impression, he was looking to break down the wards rather than create them."

Her eyes glazed over as she began to think critically and she bit her lip in concentration. "What about the ministry? And before you say it I know he has control of it. I mean in the department of mysteries. There are places that no one can supposedly access. He looked at her waiting for her to continue. He knew she wasn't actually expecting him to answer. "The veil. It can't be the only of its kind and no one has ever researched it. Well, sure the unspeakables have. But whatever information they have gathered has not been made public."

He thought about it for a moment. He never really delved too much into the comings and goings of the department of mysteries. Though he had looked into the veil once he had heard of Black's demise. "It seems to be a manifestation of the barrier between the land of the living and the land of the dead. From my understanding, it is not a two-way portal." He thought pensively. It could be something to look into.

"He does have a fascination with death and cheating it," she muttered under her breath.

"Does he now?" Though it seemed from her flustered look she didn't mean for him to hear her.

"Umm… Yes. His resurrection, the use of unicorn blood, the philosopher's stone. And on top of that, you said on the 14th of August-" she searched through her notes. My body can only last for so long but my soul will live forever. "Perhaps he wasn't talking about his legacy but his pursuit to find a way to understand death and live beyond that."

"It's possible," he mused though he highly doubted that was his reasoning. No one can truly live forever after all.

He didn't mind her secrets and lies. Hell, he has only survived for this long due to his own. And as long as it didn't interfere with their work or the goal to defeat the dark lord, then she could keep them to herself for all he cared. He really didn't want to concern himself with who her latest beau is.

He had genuinely put the effort into trying to make this partnership successful. It was difficult and annoying and most days he wished he could just put up some wards to block her. Or to throw away the galleon he used to contact her. But he didn't. And it appeared his efforts were worthwhile. It wasn't all one side thought. He knew she was trying too. She mostly would try to ease his load since she was already, for the most part, polite. Even if it seemed superficial. She couldn't ease his burden but she could free up more of his time.

She did more than he expected or what was asked of her. Her job was to transcribe all of the information he gathered at the meetings. Then it was her job to find patterns and decipher what information is important enough to be given to the order. That was all she had to do. Especially for him.

And yet she did more. She was always there for him in the moments when he felt most alone. He was to summon her immediately after a meeting, while his memories were still fresh. However, he didn't feel alone in her presence as he often did when surrounded by others. Normally it was as if he was the only swirl of darkness on a canvas covered in colours. But with her, it was as if a light was shown in his darkness to show the different shades of colours.

Several times he would come back from a meeting to find his paperwork completed or the ingredients he needed for his potion already prepped. Sometimes he couldn't recall if he had already mentioned to her or not since he was so emotionally and mentally drained he couldn't remember.

He was the type of man who constantly escaped from the world and retreated into his own mind. And yet he never really thought about religion or his own spiritual beliefs before. He was not a spiritual man. Not after everything he saw. He only believed in humans' ability to be selfish and self-motivated.

One day Hermione was sitting on top of the workbench cross-legged. Surrounded by dozens of pieces of parchments. She was going over the last two weeks of information on the actions of the death eaters. Shad a collection of notes from reports from order members, newspaper clippings, and radio broadcasts. She had been looking at them with her head in her hands for 30 minutes. He wasn't even sure she had blinked. She was trying to see if there were any patterns in their attacks. Location, time, types of magic used. But she couldn't seem to find anything. "I wonder is it possible for good to exist without evil?

"That depends." It appears he had startled her. Her head shot up in his direction. She didn't seem to realize that she had pondered the question out loud until he replied. "If you are asking me if I am religious and believe in the religious constructs of good and evil and their constant war. Then no. I believe that evil isn't born, it's made. And in that regard human nature depends on order for society to function. And an aspect of that is creating and defining a set of rules and values that are socially constructed to be good and evil. Perhaps good can exist without evil." Severus wasn't sure if he truly believed that. It was a nice thought at least. He sometimes liked to ponder on philosophical questions, specifically the age-old question of why are we here. But he never really told people his outlook on life. Mostly because people flinched away from his initial cold and jaded perspective. He was pleased to see that she had perked up while he was talking and was engaged in the conversation.

"To be able to recognize the good you have to be able to see the evil?" She asked, clarifying his thoughts.

He wasn't sure why she was asking this now. Maybe she was begging to lose hope. Or perhaps she was just dreaming. Nonetheless, he asked one question in return. "I think the better question would be are humans better at creation or destruction?

It took a moment to ponder and find her words. "Well, that depends on one's definition and the association of the words creation and destruction with positive and negative. Creation can be good, often associated with new life. And destruction has been known to refer to death and the end of something. But sometimes it is a good thing to destroy something. And sometimes creation results in a monster. She began to sit up straiter as she became more confident in her answer. "Everything in life is interchangeable and interdisciplinary; it is impossible to choose one without choosing the other. The only thing that matters is humans' ability to change."

"Some people are afraid of change." He stated the obvious. He wasn't trying to point out her desire for order and organization. He was just stating a fact.

She looked at him with an inquisitive and arched look. "Are you?"

She didn't appear to be religious despite her common use of God instead of Merlin to display her shock as everyone else does. She was no doubtedly baptized under some church in the muggle world. Though he never saw her display or practice religious or spiritual displays of faith. And considering that she didn't believe in the idea of divination and that the future is set and there is a plan for all of us. He doubted that she believed in a monotheistic god.

She tried to understand him. That was more than most people have ever done. And in a way she did understand him more than others ever had or were willing to see.

Even before he killed Dumbledore most people only ever saw him as just a death eater. And now a monster. But she only ever saw him as human, though obviously flawed. Looking back she has always referred to him as professor and whenever someone disrespected his name she always stood up for him. Even though she could have easily joined her friends in making fun of him. Despite his rigid exterior and rigidness. She didn't think he was cold-hearted or unfeeling. She knew that there was more to him than others assumed at first glance.

She didn't provide him or fill him up with hope. But she did provide him with a form of relief.

She raised the temperature in the room so that it was a little too warm for her but enough to eradicate his chill. Extensive nerve damage made it harder for him to retain heat in his body. Throughout the years the students seemed to put it together despite them all sweating and him not even though he was wearing his thick dark robes while brewing potions. They all probably assumed that it was a form of torture.

There was this moment when they accidentally grazed hands. It was entirely accidental but he quickly pulled his hand away and placed some distance between them. But not before he could feel the contrast of her smooth skin and his calloused ones. It wasn't as though the form of physical contact was by any means inappropriate. Nor was it sexual. Even if it was, she was 18 and no longer his student. He has never been a fan of physical contact probably since he was unaccustomed to it. And the only physical contact he has experienced involved some kind of pain. He didn't have a problem if he initiated contact. As long as it was consensual. She didn't seem to take offence to it. Nor did she interpret it as if he was disgusted by touching her. The next time she pulled her hand back from grabbing something across from him. She purposely moved around so as not to invade his personal space.

He was just about done with the blood replenishing potion. All he had now to do was bottle it up and make labels. He could see out of the corner of his eye Miss Granger gathering her stuff.

"I'm heading out, professor."

He didn't really give it much thought until she opened the door. "Why haven't you ever called me headmaster? You still refer to me as a professor" He wasn't a teacher anymore let alone hers. She had no reason to use a term that depicted his authority of use as a sign of respect. Most people did continue to refer to him as a professor. They didn't believe he deserved the title of Headmaster. He agreed with them. And those who did refer to him as such did so as mockery. So what was her reasoning?

She looked down briefly before looking back at him, "I know how much you hate it.

His back tensed up. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to me," she replied with a soft smile. She tilted her head. "Would you prefer I call you Headmaster?"

How did he want her to address him? He thought about it for a moment before settling on, "No."

"Goodnight sir."

"Goodnight," he whispered as his eyes followed her out of the room. He still wasn't used to her pleasantries. Unlike most people when they complimented him it was either out of expected cordial behaviour and that was what was expected out of them in society or they wanted something out of him. But she only complimented him because she was kind and believed he deserved it. It left a warm unfamiliar feeling in his chest. He didn't like it. It was the same way how her presence in his lab added a new element to his life. It quickly fell into a pattern and he became used to it. Just as Miss Granger's presence in his life became his new normal.

She had no doubtedly passed his expectations, though they were low, to begin with. He expected her to give up. She could have walked away or turned down Dumbledore's offer but she didn't. He couldn't exactly explain why. Because a part of her knew that this was the best solution to end this war. At least the two of them could agree on that. Or perhaps she was a genuinely kind person and wanted to help. Or maybe she wanted to be helpful. Whatever her reasonings were. He couldn't help but be pleased with her decision. Now that he had considered her placement as a permanent feature, he wasn't as disappointed with her as he once was. She was clearly of use.

In a way, it was unfair for her. He wasn't blind nor caught up in his own self not to recognize that this was affecting her just as bad as it was affecting him. He hated the job because of how strenuous it is and now she has to carry the burden. In a way, he felt almost guilty. Every step that left him feeling lighter just meant that she was weighted more heavily down. Right now they were able to walk side by side. But soon enough, it wouldn't be to his surprise, if she started to fall behind.

No 18 year old should have to do what she does. Though she shoulders it well. She had certainly changed from the 11-year-old he met all of those years ago. Her confidence has grown as well as her knowledge and magical power. And though her mental strength will only be tested with time. It was clear that Hermione Granger wasn't the same girl she used to be. But then again neither was he the man he once was. Time changes everyone. Some for the better and some for the worse. And some succumb to time. He would have to wait to see which one she falls under.

I would like to thank my beta's demonbarber14 and RaventheNightOwl.

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