All things considered, Severus Snape hadn't had a good couple of months. Or a good year really. When he'd found out that Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban, he'd felt a fission of fear run straight through him, followed almost immediately by the hot, angry swell of a hatred so intense he felt his toes curl in his boots. He hated the fact that his first emotion had been fear almost as much as he hated Black himself. He knew he had nothing to fear from the swine anymore, in fact he'd probably rather enjoy duelling him and knocking him on his arse, making him scream and beg for mercy. He'd still believed then that it was Black who betrayed Lily to the Dark Lord, but even now he knew it had been Pettigrew, the loathing wasn't much less intense, it was just on behalf of himself now, rather than the woman he loved. He'd also believed that Black had escaped for the sole purpose of killing the boy he was sworn to protect, the news hadn't made for the best start of the school year. Potter had a knack of walking straight into trouble and he'd known how vigilant he would have to be to try and keep the boy safe.

Even then he hadn't really succeeded, admittedly it hadn't been his fault Potter and his little friends had stunned him but it still turned his insides cold to think what might have happened that night if Black had been out to kill to boy. He knew he had a deeply ingrained panic response to Black, and would have to Potter senior if he was still alive; you couldn't go through all those years of associating their appearance with pain and humiliation without developing some sort of a conditioned response, but knowing that didn't make it any less embarrassing. He'd felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach the first time he'd laid eyes on Potter junior, he'd grabbed straight for his wand and then immediately wanted to kick himself for being scared of an 11 year old.

Then Dumbledore had hired the werewolf. He'd been furious about that. He didn't actually hate Lupin, but Merlin knows he's never stopped the Marauders from torturing him and he didn't trust him at all. He'd hardly wanted to risk Black having an ally inside the school. And it had turned out that Lupin did help Black even if he hadn't been guilty, Lupin hadn't had any absolute proof of Black's innocence and running around on a full moon without taking his Wolfsbane potion was unforgivable in Snape's eyes. The transformed werewolf was one of his greatest fears even after so much time had passed; coming face to face with one was not something you forgot in a hurry. Plus there had been the incident with Longbottom's Boggart, how Lupin had enjoyed that, he'd brought it up in the Staffroom nearly every night for two weeks. Being humiliated in such a way, in front of the students no less and by someone who had been a continuous witness to his … dealings with Potter, Black and Pettigrew was not something he'd found particularly amusing. Then on top of that he'd been criticised by the rest of the staff for being unable to laugh at the incident.

To cap off a shitty year he'd managed to completely lose control of himself, and get everything completely wrong, humiliating himself even further in front of the remaining two thirds of the Marauders, the Golden Gryffindors and the Minister for Magic himself, even if he was a bumbling idiot. And then he'd gotten legless right in front of Granger. The thought of her sent a trickle of unease down his spine. He couldn't begin to fathom why she'd come after him, pounded on his door like a harridan, let him invade her mind so he could see what really happened and then stayed with him in his drunken stupor and woken him from his worst nightmare … well, worst memory.

Dumbledore still hadn't even had the courtesy to tell him the truth of it so he didn't know why on earth she'd bothered. Dumbledore. That night had created further tension between himself and the Headmaster. Maybe he was paranoid and overreacting, but he couldn't help but feel as if this just proved that even after all this time, he still wasn't trusted, still wasn't favoured, still was just the little Slytherin with a bad temper and an unhealthy knowledge of the Dark Arts. You disgust me. He vaguely remembered Granger's uneasy expression when he'd drunkenly voiced his feelings on the subject, he had no doubt that she had nothing but respect for Dumbledore so her expression was enough proof of the matter to him.

"You're obviously not alright." She'd said to him, and she'd been accurate as always. He'd been exhausted and angry and betrayed by one of the only people he cared about enough for it to hurt. She'd been the only person who apparently cared enough to come and check on him and that realisation had been more depressing than he'd expected. Being in her head had been uncomfortable too. Not because she'd resisted, but because she'd welcomed him into her mind, she'd been relieved he was there. That was not something he felt very often, from anyone. What was more disconcerting was that he'd actually felt her guilt and her concern for him, that was something only an extremely accomplished Occlumens could fake and he was positive the girl wasn't one. That meant her feelings had been genuine and for the life of him he couldn't understand it. She'd sat with him while he'd drank as well and he hadn't been prepared for how grateful he was for the company. Not her company obviously, the girl was insufferable, but she hadn't spoken much and it had been nice not be alone for once. He was perfectly aware of how lonely he was, and it was mostly by choice; he was far better off by himself. The feeling of unwanted gratitude for the blasted girl had only increased when she'd stopped him from relieving the entirety of that dreadful day once again, handed him a glass of water and sat with him in the quiet until he'd felt calm once more.

He'd had to throw her out in the end of course, his words had been harsh but he'd had little choice; he could hardly have the girl thinking she was on familiar terms with him and he couldn't stand her anyway. It was the disappointed look she'd given him that had been the most unsettling thing though, like she'd expected better from him. Indeed he'd expected her to judge him and be haughty and condemning, admittedly she had quite obviously disapproved of the firewhiskey, but other than that she's seemed worrying neutral about the whole incident and almost understanding. Now he had live with the prickle of humiliation every time he laid eyes on Granger, she didn't have appeared to have told Potter and Weasley but that was sure not to last, and then they'd all be laughing at the pathetic, drunk, stupid, greasy bat of the dungeons. He ground his teeth. He'd tried glaring at her, giving her his ugliest stares in the hope she'd be scared or angry and everything would return to normal but instead she just looked back at him, something frighteningly like empathy on her face, then return to whatever she was doing. He didn't like it one bit, the whole thing was immeasurably disquieting.

And now there was a group of Death Eaters who'd marched right through the World Cup stadium, openly toying with muggles and someone had conjured the Dark Mark over the woods. All of this right in front the Ministry of Magic. He was sure that the Death Eaters weren't presently connected to the Dark Lord and most of them would fear his return more than most, for they were the followers who had lied and betrayed their Master to avoid Azkaban. Still, it made him feel incredibly uneasy and, though he was sure it was purely psychological, or hoped it was purely psychological, the faint outline of the Dark Mark on his left forearm was starting to itch occasionally.

That terrified him.

And here's chapter 6. I originally wrote this and the last chapter together but I got a little carried away and it seemed to go into two chapters quite naturally. I found writing from Snape's perspective quite difficult so I hope I've managed to do him justice. Hope these two make up for the previous short chapter too ;)

Thanks for reading!

Text in bold italics from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - J.K Rowling