Disclaimer: The ingredients for the draught of living death came from Harry Potter Wiki.

I'm going to start slowly spacing out my updates to give you readers enough content to at least last through till the end of summer.

Chapter 3. Firewhisky

Snape watched as the Gryffindor girl kneeled before the quivering first year. Her lips moved as she watched the boy with concern, likely uttering words of encouragement to the child who was potentially doubting his house placement at that moment. The two housemates stood, and she pulled the dark-haired boy into a hug before sending him on his way. Severus was easily reminded of Lily from the delicate nature in which the younger witch conducted herself around others. She was kind, caring, and gave the benefit of the doubt even to those may not have deserved it. Thinking back to his younger self, he wished he hadn't been so hardened around his only friend, pushing her away every chance he got. Maybe then she'd still be alive, the thought sent a pang of guilt to his core as he turned away from the muggle-born before she stepped inside to her common room.

He trudged the way back to his chambers. The Quidditch game had given him a headache that seemed to be burying itself deep within the frown lines that were developing on the wizard. Ageing came too fast to those who lived life as I did, he groaned as the memory of every poor decision he'd ever made in his short life came rushing to the forefront of his mind. Sitting down hastily in his favourite recliner, the professor poured himself an inch of Firewhisky, downing it smoothly. The burn barely phased him as he let his head fall back, against the cushion and closed his eyes.

Hermione smiled at him from her seat across the table when she looked up from the novel she was previously buried in. The glint in her amber eyes sent a shiver down his spine that forced a quick grin onto his stubborn lips. The two held each other's eyes for a moment, the tension sinking in around them as their surroundings fell to a blur. "Severus." She whispered. His name on her tongue rekindled the flutter that had compelled his earlier smile. The young witch stood and crossed the short distance to stand beside him. The professor adjusted his chair to have her sit comfortably in his lap. Her scent, vanilla and parchment enveloped his senses as he leaned up to close the distance between them. A centimetre away from her quivering lips he closed his eyes.

Standing with force, the Defence teacher rose from his chair and glanced around his darkened room. He rolled the tension from his shoulders before setting off to his office. The images of his student danced behind his eyelids so he forced himself to shift his mind elsewhere. Slamming down his emotional shields, he sat down at his desk and released a heavy breath. Plenty of papers lay waiting for his harsh grading and he did not feel the need to waste a perfectly good Sunday powering through the scrambled words of sixth-years on nonverbal spells and their uses. Tonight, he decided, is when I ought to finish them.

-x-

The night passed slowly, and it was only quarter to eleven when he felt a presence on the other side of his office door. Debating whether or not he should bother letting the being know he was there, he settled on groaning a low "enter" as he continued scribbling red ink over a student's work. When the door didn't budge, he rolled his eyes and pushed away from the wooden desk, striding over to the entry and throwing it open. Opposite the threshold stood a flustered Gryffindor in a jumper that was slightly too tight and jeans that bore an ink stain across the knee. It seemed as though she had attempted to pull back her mane in some fashion, but the girl's wild locks remained as such as she blankly stared at the professor. He watched as she stepped back, attempting to catch herself as she nearly toppled over for the umpteenth time that day.

"Be careful Miss Granger, you seem to be falling quite a lot today." He warned, seeing her cheeks flush with embarrassment. The effect made him grin inwardly, but he moved to assert his usual domineering stance.

"Angel's trumpet." She stated simply, causing him to wrack his brain as to what could have possibly spurred the mention of the deadly poison. The mead, he determined, as he leaned slightly against the doorframe. She continued to stare blankly at him. He supposed she must have spent the entire afternoon researching the information she'd caught from their first meeting, the thought of which almost made him chuckle. Had the student not been there, he may have allowed himself that bout of humour.

"Yes, Miss Granger, 5 points to Gryffindor for figuring that out. Only took you an entire day in the library to make that breakthrough." He held in a laugh at the girl's expense but realized he would have done the exact same thing when he was a student at Hogwarts. The dark memories of his youth began slamming his mental defences and his mood quickly soured. "10 points from Gryffindor for being out of bed past curfew and interrupting my evening."

She retorted, her expression contorting into one of offence as she started her argument, "But I was on my rounds-" His headache was quickly returning, and so were the images of his earlier dream. Forcing the thoughts from his mind, he narrowed his glare at the young witch.

"Would you care to make it 20?" Her lack of response has him satisfied she was just as ready to leave his presence as he was to leave hers. "I thought not, now go back to your tower before I am forced to make it 30 points." He emphasized. Her hair noticeably crackled with rage as she huffed and spun around on her heel, rushing off to her dormitories. A breath escaped his lips he hadn't realized he'd been guarding as he turned back into his office. The remaining papers stacked on his desk now distinctly seemed like a project for tomorrow as he strode back into his own chambers.

He flopped back on his bed and rubbed his hands down his face, catching on his hooked nose. "She's a student you prat, keep yourself together." The young professor chastised, letting himself relax into the mattress. His mind journeyed to more stressful topics: the imminent death of the headmaster, his role in guiding Draco in the process, and the ever more likely scenario of shattering his soul for the greater good. Severus wouldn't survive the war, and he had come to accept that fact, but his irritation came with his newfound desire to see what becomes of the golden trio after Voldemort's defeat. Specifically, Granger. He groaned as his mind continuously wandered back to the oldest of the three friends.

The professor found she reminded him so much of his childhood best friend that his heart began to ache for her as it did for Lily, which was causing an added layer of stress that he did not need. He attempted to mask the unwonted emotion with lust, looking to sexualize the student instead of humanizing her, but he found it exceptionally difficult. The witch was extraordinarily bright, stubborn, and had the most courage of any of the Gryffindors. Her knowledge of a vast number of academic topics astonished him as new aspects of the girl surfaced with every encounter. Who knew a student could hide in a library and come up with the solution to a question never asked based only on a few chemical compounds? He marvelled at the idea. The fact that she held a unique beauty was likely last in the list of attributes that captured his attention.

-x-

Severus woke with a start, nearly falling from the bed as he came to. He had fallen asleep atop the covers and in his teaching robes. Groaning from the stubborn pain in his neck, that had only increased from the poor choice of sleeping position, he stood up and banished his robes from his person. In nothing but a pair of briefs, he took a few steps to his lavatory and flicked on the lights with his wand. He stared into the mirror that reflected his hollowing eyes and growing wrinkles as he sighed at the image. I'm losing my youth, he mused. But what good is youth when it's going to be gone so soon? The pessimistic thought dripped from his cheek as he splashed some water on his face to mask the tears that had been building. Haunted by the memories of Lily, he'd spent his few short hours of sleep that night with her person, laying under their favourite tree and talking about magic.

Swallowing hard, the wizard strode back into his room, casting a quick tempus charm to find it was approaching ten past four in the morning. Exhaustion clung to his shoulders as he pulled back the blanket and collapsed into the bed. He desperately did not want to dream of his childhood friend for the rest of the night, but his sleep deprivation was going to catch up with him eventually and that night seemed to be the winner.

Severus rested his head on the soft pillow, placing his hand over the scars on his chest and filing through his brain for a better image to drift off to. Hermione Granger peeked out from behind the shadows in his psyche. She was wearing a Gryffindor jumper and a regular pair of jeans, and her hair was smoothed out around her face. Her eyes twinkled as she approached him, folding into his arms as he rested his chin on the top of her head, a stray curl tickling his nose. "Severus." She whispered, nuzzling into him as he felt the warmth of her love wash over her. He breathed easier, having her in his embrace, and felt the worries of the future wash away with every breath they inhaled in unison. It felt right. For once in his pathetic existence, something felt right.

The light poured into the room as the sun rose on the castle. It was well past the beginning of breakfast, but Severus was determined to allow himself a lie in. His eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling, he willed himself to return to his dreamscape. He woke up that morning with an ache in his chest he had not felt since the day he lost Lily. It felt as though something was missing and he was loath to find out what could shatter the cold casing on his heart to such a degree. The image of Granger flashed behind his eyes but he dismissed the notion, "Student" he whispered forcefully, turning onto his side and finding a new line of sight on his bookcase.

"Severus?" The hearty Scottish accent called from the floo as green flames danced about. He let a groan in response, which the older women took as an invitation to enter his quarters. Minerva stepped out of the fireplace a moment later and peered around until she saw Severus in bed with his blanket pulled up to his nose. "Severus! Wake up! You can't miss breakfast," McGonagall scolded. "You will only end up in a foul mood for the rest of the day." The thought of facing the day elicited another throaty groan from the younger professor, who was now hiding within the confines of his comforter. A short huff was heard from the Gryffindor head as she marched over to his bed, throwing the covers from his body.

The lack of clothes did not the dissuade the woman from grabbing his arm and hauling him up. "Get dressed and get to the dining hall or I'm putting you in charge of chaperoning the next Hogsmeade visit, don't you doubt it." She scolded, glaring at him through her petite glasses. Sighing in defeat, the Slytherin marched to his wardrobe and quickly dressed to avoid further embarrassment in front of the woman who had taught him when he was but a child himself.

"Satisfied?" Severus seethed, turning to face the witch once he had properly clothed himself. She gave him a quick nod and motioned for him to lead the way to the Grand Hall. As they were leaving, the male professor quickly snagged his bottle of Firewhisky from the table beside his bed and tucked it within his robes. If I'm to make it through breakfast with the headmaster, I can do with all the courage I can get, he grumbled internally as he walked effortlessly behind the witch. There was only a few inches left in the bottle, but it would do.

The eager student was already sitting at the Gryffindor table when the two professors walked into the hall. He noticed how she was alone, not even the sole female Weasley to keep her company as she slowly managed her plate of eggs and toast. The girl had a book propped up beside her meal that kept her enraptured as he strode past her. Catching a glimpse of the title, Tips and Tricks for the Best Potion Results, he scoffed, figures. She glanced up at as the two passed her on the way to the head table. Catching Snape's gaze, a conflicted smile crept at her lips. He noticed the faltering facial spasm but ignored it, nodding quickly and continuing on to his seat at the front of the hall.

McGonagall took the place beside him and watched as filled his plate with eggs, toast, and a bit of sausage. When the female professor was satisfied with her colleague's breakfast choices, she returned to a cup of coffee she was nursing as she surveyed her students. In the time she was distracted, Severus sneakily poured some of his whisky into the coffee he'd summoned. Taking a long swig, he groaned at the comfort it provided him as the headmaster strode into the dining hall. Fuck, Severus cursed inwardly, taking another swig of courage as he stared down the jolly, conniving wizard sauntering up to his seat.

The younger professor had begun wishing that Draco would succeed in his venture and not require Snape's help, but he knew better. The death of the Headmaster would be on his soul, whether he wanted it or not. It was his promise to Dumbledore, to Lily. The thought made him sick, forcing him to take the final gulp of coffee. Alcohol was not how he wanted to start his Sunday, but the events that had already transpired that day seemed to call for it.

He didn't know how it happened, but his gaze has landed back on the curly haired witch, reading her book at the Gryffindor table. Severus only realized the destination of his stare when the patter of footsteps made him look up from her. Draco stormed into the room, his normally slicked back blond hair in slight disarray. The boy had taken up a permanent frown as his burdens chipped away at his youth as well. Severus had tried suggesting a different punishment for the elder Malfoy's mistakes the previous year but it was to no avail. Draco was sentenced to take the dark mark as his father had, no matter how unwilling the young pureblood had been.

He watched as the blond's gaze drifted to Hermione as he walked past her, his lips pursing before taking a seat at his own table. The look Draco had sent the muggle-born witch sent a conflicting pang of jealousy to the professor's stomach. However, the boy had taken up staring off into the light streaming through the stained glass, not moving to even serve himself some food. Alone at the table, the Malfoy heir's expression visibly saddened and Severus could not help but feel remorse that he could not be of more help. Draco had been adamant after Slughorn's Christmas party that he did not need Snape's help, even though he'd made the unbreakable vow to the boy's mother to do just that. The conflict made him feel useless so he decided to put his foul mood to some use. Standing, he floated down the steps and traversed the distance to Granger.

"Come with me." He stated simply as she looked up at him in surprise. The girl quickly closed her book and hugged it against her chest, rising from her spot on the bench and following after him, nearly stumbling over her own feet. Finally catching up to the brooding professor, she attempted to catch his eyes, but he purposefully stared forward. He was partially afraid his emotions would betray him if he caught a glimpse of her pleading brown eyes. The other part of him feared seeing her pouting lips close-up and wondering what they felt like to kiss.

"Professor," she started, but Snape only responded with a grunt. "Where are we going?" The know-it-all asked. He didn't speak as he knew she'd find out soon enough. The two were walking a roundabout path to his office, as to ensure that the least amount of Slytherins would see the pair together. As they rounded a corner to the hall that led to his office, Hermione huffed and noticeably stiffened in his periphery. A grin threatened his mouth which made him look forward and wordlessly open the door to his office, taking her down to his private lab through the passage.

"You are going to brew the Draught of Living Death potion today, Miss Granger." He seethed, summoning the materials required for the potion, including the advanced potions textbook. "I heard from dear professor Slughorn that Harry was the star pupil when you learned this particular concoction. I want to witness for myself what you did wrong. It will help me assess if you are worthy of being my assistant." The witch had been silent as she placed her book on his desk, shuffling over to where the textbook lay open. Gingerly, she tucked her hair behind her ear as she looked down at the open book before her. Severus noted how her eyes darted through the instructions and how she played with the hem of her jumper. The nervous energy that escaped her shield floated in the air around them and he became acutely aware of how mesmerized by the young witch he was becoming. His heart hurt at the thought, which he quickly banished and focused once more on the crime he would eventually commit to further sour his mood. She won't think very highly of me after that, he mulled, if she even thinks anything of me at all now. At that moment he wished he'd had more firewhisky to get himself through this tutor session.

"Powdered root of asphodel, Infusion of Wormwood, Valerian root, a Sopophorous Bean, and a Sloth brain," the young witch read aloud, committing it to memory before glancing up at the impatient figure watching her move about the room he rarely shared. Had the potions professor been anyone but Slughorn I may have borrowed the classroom, he mused. He thought carefully at the possible replacement professors for the subject and winced at the options. Maybe not, he concluded. The witch was waiting for his confirmation, which he provided with a short nod before she moved to his private storage. She sifted through the jars and vials until she had gathered all the ingredients needed to complete the potion. Placing them around the cauldron, she kept her head down, never even glancing up to test his approval of her progression. He couldn't tell if this was a show of confidence or insecurity. Perhaps a bit of both, he determined, gritting his teeth as he watched her glance once more at the text beside her. He moved to take a seat at his desk as he carefully watched over her method.

Dutifully, she began working through the steps, her face twisting with concentration.