So Rita Skeeter had made her out to be some sort of "scarlet woman", as if she cared! Something funny was going on though; how had that dreadful woman known Victor had invited her to Bulgaria? She'd get that bitch at some point.
*"He asked me right after he'd pulled me out of the lake, after he'd got rid of his shark's head. Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets and then he sort of pulled me away from the judges so they wouldn't hear, and he said, if I wasn't doing anything over the summer, would I like to -" she started telling the boys.
"And what did you say?" said Ron, who had picked up his pestle and was grinding it on the desk, a good six inches from his bowl.
"And he did say he'd never felt the same way about anyone else," She went on, going very red now, "but how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? She wasn't there ... or was she? Maybe she has got an Invisibility Cloak; maybe she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the second task..."
"And what did you say?" Ron repeated, pounding his pestle down so hard that it dented the desk.
"Well, I was too busy seeing whether you and Harry were okay to -"
"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is. Miss Granger," said an icy voice right behind them, and all three of them jumped, "I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor."
Snape had glided over to their desk while they were talking. The whole class was now looking around at them.
"Ah...reading magazines under the table as well?" Snape added, snatching up the copy of Witch Weekly. "A further ten points from Gryffindor...oh but of course..." Snape's black eyes glittered as they fell on Rita Skeeter's article. "Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings..."
The dungeon rang with the Slytherins' laughter, and an unpleasant smile curled Snape's thin mouth. The bastard began to read the article aloud.
"'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache...dear, dear. Potter, what's ailing you now? 'A boy like no other, perhaps...'"
Snape was pausing at the end of every sentence to allow the Slytherins a hearty laugh. The article sounded ten times worse when read by Snape. Hermione was blushing scarlet now and Harry looked ready to explode.
"'...Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.' How very touching," sneered Snape, rolling up the magazine to continued gales of laughter from the Slytherins. "Well, I think I had better separate the three of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson. Potter - that table in front of my desk. Move. Now."
"All this press attention seems to have inflated your already over-large head. Potter," said Snape quietly, once the rest of the class had settled down again.
"You might be labouring under the delusion that the entire wizarding world is impressed with you," Snape went on, "but I don't care how many times your picture appears in the papers. To me Potter, you are nothing but a nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him."
Harry tipped the powdered beetles into his cauldron and started cutting up his ginger. Oh God she hoped he wouldn't do something stupid.
"So I give you fair warning, Potter," Snape continued in a softer and more dangerous voice, "pint-sized celebrity or not - if I catch you breaking into my office one more time -"
"I haven't been anywhere near your office!" said Harry angrily.
"Don't lie to me," Snape hissed, his fathomless black eyes boring into Harry's. "Boomslang skin. Gillyweed. Both come from my private stores, and I know who stole them."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry lied coldly.
"You were out of bed on the night my office was broken into!" Snape hissed. "I know it Potter! Now, Mad-Eye Moody might have joined your fan club, but I will not tolerate your behaviour! One more night-time stroll into my office, Potter, and you will pay!"
"Right," said Harry coolly. "I'll bear that in mind if I ever get the urge to go in there."
Snape's eyes flashed. He plunged a hand into the inside of his black robes. For one wild moment, Hermione thought Snape was about to pull out his wand and curse Harry - then she saw that Snape had drawn out a small crystal bottle of a completely clear potion.
"Do you know what this is, Potter?" Snape said, his eyes glittering dangerously again.
"No," said Harry.
"It is Veritaserum - a Truth Potion so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets for this entire class to hear," said Snape viciously. "Now, the use of this potion is controlled by very strict Ministry guidelines. But unless you watch your step, you might just find that my hand slips" - he shook the crystal bottle slightly - "right over your evening pumpkin juice. And then, Potter...then we'll find out whether you've been in my office or not."*
Bastard. What a bloody bastard. Harry technically hadn't stolen anything from Snape, she had though. And it had been Mr Crouch breaking into his office. Why did he have to be so horrible to her best friend when he had been half decent to her in the Second Task when she'd been on the verge of a mental breakdown? Was it just Harry he hated? Turned out it wasn't.
"And Miss Granger." Snape said, more viciously still. "It seems I was right about you after all; you do just associate with … celebrities … to fuel your own desire to feel worth something. We should all endeavour to watch out for Miss Granger … she may decide she requires one of us to be her next conquest and, as such, I expect you all to keep an extra close watch on your drinks when she's near in case she'd cooked up … another … Love Potion."
Her face burned. What an utter fucking bastard. There was just no need.
*There was a knock on the dungeon door.
"Enter," said Snape in his usual voice.
The class looked around as the door opened. Professor Karkaroff came in. Everyone watched him as he walked up toward Snape's desk. He was twisting his finger around his goatee and looking agitated.
"We need to talk," said Karkaroff abruptly when he had reached Snape. He seemed so determined that nobody should hear what he was saying that he was barely opening his lips; it was as though he were a rather poor ventriloquist.
"I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff," Snape muttered, but Karkaroff interrupted him.
"I want to talk now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me."
"After the lesson," Snape snapped.
Hermione sneaked a look at the pair of them; Karkaroff looked extremely worried, and Snape looked angry. She could guess what this was about.
Karkaroff hovered behind Snape's desk for the rest of the double period. He seemed intent on preventing Snape from slipping away at the end of class. Keen to hear what Karkaroff wanted to say, Hermione deliberately knocked over her bottle of armadillo bile with two minutes to go to the bell, which gave her an excuse to duck down behind her cauldron and mop up while the rest of the class moved noisily toward the door.
"What's so urgent?" She heard Snape hiss at Karkaroff.
"This," said Karkaroff, and Hermione, peering around the edge of her cauldron, saw Karkaroff pull up the left-hand sleeve of his robe and show Snape something on his inner forearm. The Dark Mark she presumed.
"Well?" said Karkaroff, still making every effort not to move his lips. "Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since -"
"Put it away!" snarled Snape, his black eyes sweeping the classroom.
"But you must have noticed -" Karkaroff began in an agitated voice.
"We can talk later, Karkaroff!" spat Snape. "Granger! What are you doing?"
"Clearing up my armadillo bile, Professor," said Hermione innocently, straightening up and showing Snape the sodden rag she was holding.
Karkaroff turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeon. He looked both worried and angry. Not wanting to remain alone with an exceptionally angry Snape, especially after he had been so foul, Hermione threw her books and ingredients back into her bag and began to leave at top speed.*
Then Snape made a sort of grunting noise. She turned around in confusion and saw her Professor grasping his left arm, his face screwed up in pain, tension radiating from his body.
He was hurt.
She couldn't leave. Even if he was a bastard.
She started walking towards him and he looked up at her.
"Miss Granger GET OUT."
She almost smiled at the déjà vu. Snape looked furious, then he gasped and grasped his arm more firmly.
"Is there anything I can do?" She asked him quietly. He looked confused.
"No there's not you silly girl. Leave." He hissed through clenched teeth. Then the pain seemed to stop. He let go of his arm and sunk heavily onto his desk chair. She stood stock still a few paces away from his desk. His hands were shaking.
"Have you been Summoned?" She asked him gently.
"No." He answered shortly.
"Then wha-"
"It just burned. It wasn't a full Summons. It's been burning on and off for months now, as well as getting darker. That was the most powerful burn so far. Happy? Now go away." He snapped.
They sat in silence for a time. She wasn't leaving. Aside from the fact that she had about a million questions that felt as though they were literally burning her mouth, Professor Snape wasn't ok. She realised that when she'd decided to go after him last year and refused to leave, it hadn't been a one off; she would do the same every time she decided he needed her to. Whether he liked it or not. His hands were still shaking. This was one of those times.
"Does it mean You-Know-Who's getting stronger?" She asked him cautiously.
He'd been staring at his desk for some time but now he looked up at her, it was an incredibly heavy gaze, like he was assessing her very existence.
"Dumbledore believes so." He informed her, not breaking eye-contact.
She swallowed her panic.
"And Dumbledore will want you to go back to him. As a spy?"
He stared at her for so long she started to feel really uncomfortable but she didn't break eye contact. His gaze wasn't angry or exasperated as she'd expected it to be, it was rather more as though he was trying to measure out the exact amount of a key ingredient; and any slight differentiation would make the potion blow up. There was something else in his expression that she couldn't even attempt to decipher.
"Yes." He said eventually, his dark eyes cold.
She inhaled slightly, she'd known this to be the case but having confirmation from the man himself was still a lot to take in. Snape was going to return to You-Know-Who on Dumbledore's orders as a spy. He'd never be safe. Would You-Know-Who even welcome him back after he'd spent all these years in the safety of Hogwarts? Actually, how had he managed to stay out of Azkaban? She wanted to ask him so many questions but his expression was shifting into the lines of dislike she was oh-so familiar with. She'd better leave before he put her in detention.
"Please be careful Professor." She said softly and she gathered her bag and made a hasty exit.
*"Well?" said Karkaroff, still making every effort not to move his lips. "Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since -"
"Put it away!" snarled Severus, his black eyes sweeping the classroom, God he didn't need any children seeing that vile thing.
"But you must have noticed -" Karkaroff began in an agitated voice.
"We can talk later, Karkaroff!" He spat. "Granger! What are you doing?" As if he needed that brat knowing anything else personal about him.
"Clearing up my armadillo bile, Professor." She said, striving for innocence and failing miserably.
Karkaroff turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeon.* Severus was furious. Confronting him about something so private in a classroom of all places. He knew what the Mark getting ever darker meant. He had enough anxiety and panic of his own without having to deal with Karkaroff's as well.
Then he felt the hot, prickling pain deep within his left arm. Thinking he was alone, he grunted and grasped the Mark, hating the burning and the trickle of terror and anxiety it sent straight down his spine.
He looked up and saw Granger staring at him.
"Miss Granger GET OUT." He snarled in embarrassment and distress. He was so angry at her. How many times was she going to be witness to his weaknesses?
Then the Mark burned fiercely once again and he grasped his arm more firmly. It wasn't a full Summons, he could tell the difference, but it was getting closer to one. Merlin he was dreading being Summoned with every fibre of his being.
"Is there anything I can do?" She asked him quietly. He looked up and her concern was written clearly on her face once again. It was unnerving and perplexing.
"No there's not you silly girl. Leave." He hissed through clenched teeth, he didn't want one of Potter's cronies seeing him like this. Although if he was honest with himself, he didn't really think of her like that. Then the pain seemed to ease a little. He let go of his arm and sunk heavily into his desk chair, the pain bringing all the foreboding and stress and tension straight to the forefront of his mind. She stood stock still a few paces away from his desk. His bloody hands were shaking and he felt too exhausted to hide them from her.
"Have you been Summoned?" She asked him gently. Of course she knew about that too. Know-it-all.
"No." He answered shortly.
"Then wha-"
"It just burned. It wasn't a full Summons. It's been burning on and off for months now, as well as getting darker. That was the most powerful burn so far. Happy? Now go away." He snapped, then felt disgusting. Offloading onto a 15 year old. Bloody pathetic.
They sat in silence for a time. She wasn't leaving. He was glad. She was insufferable but he didn't really want to be alone right now. When the Mark burned, it seemed to trigger so much apprehension and so many bad memories he felt weak from it. He was weak. He should send her away. For her own good. But he didn't. It was oddly comforting to hear someone else's breathing close to him.
"Does it mean You-Know-Who's getting stronger?" She asked him cautiously.
He'd been staring at his desk for some time but now he looked up at her. He stared up at her, trying to figure her out. She was concerned for him. She knew he was a Death Eater. She was concerned anyway. Why?
"Dumbledore believes so." He informed her, not breaking eye-contact.
He watched her swallow.
"And Dumbledore will want you to go back to him. As a spy?"
He stared at her but she didn't break eye contact. She wasn't scared of him. But she knew he was a Death Eater. Her gaze was steady and he could almost feel the weight of her anxiety for him, as he'd felt it for the events she had clearly pieced together that night he'd found her by a window at 4am, and for Potter during the Second Task when he'd been over the time limit to surface. In fact he wasn't sure he'd ever seen anyone look as worried as she had on that occasion; he'd thought she might burst from anxiety. For whatever bizarre reason she obviously cared very deeply for Potter. He knew what it was like to feel so desperately concerned about someone it hurt like a physical pain. And in her panic she'd looked to him. And he'd helped her because he was a fool. Well, really he'd only reminded her to breathe but she'd certainly seemed to need the reminder. Then she'd given him such an intense look of gratitude he'd felt incredibly uncomfortable. It was entirely undeserved. There was no need for anyone to worry quite that much; there were plenty of safety precautions in place … but then again it had been Potter.
"Yes." He said eventually, his insides feeling cold with fear and dread and stress.
She inhaled slightly, seeming shocked despite the fact that she'd obviously worked out what would happen for herself. Her face was very expressive. He could virtually see the hundreds of questions burning on the tip of her tongue, the effort it was taking her to restrain them, and quite clearly he could see her unease for him and her fear of what was to come. But she was brave, as all Gryffindors are. She'd smiled at him that night she realised he was a Death Eater. He'd watched her comprehension dawning on her face, waited for the fear, the disgust, the loathing, but all he'd seen was a slight flicker of unease, followed by confusion, followed by an acceptance so open he'd felt completely staggered. Then she'd just finished her sentence. As though she hadn't just found out one of her Professors was part of an organisation that aimed to kill people like her. Maybe that made her obscenely stupid but maybe she'd thought it through, realised he could have easily killed her a hundred times already, realised Dumbledore would have known what he was when he employed him, and had a reason to trust him…That was why he'd talked to her openly. He'd been so bloody tired and stressed and restless and then there she was, figuring out his darkest secret and accepting it in a way no one else ever had. Then he'd confirmed all her worry's and fears and she'd still smiled at him. Like he wasn't evil. Like he was someone worth smiling at.
And then he'd found her hiding by the Entrance Hall on the night of the Yule Ball, learning more information she shouldn't be privy to. He'd taken out some of his tension and anger on her, and she had deserved some of it for breaking yet another school rule, but then she'd looked up at him, all big amber eyes and worry and asked him to be careful. Even after everything he'd said to her. He hated how confused the bloody girl made him. It was infuriating.
"Please be careful Professor." She said softly and she gathered her bag and made a hasty exit, leaving him staring after her as she shut the door. Today he'd been horrible to her and her best friend. She wanted him to be careful. What the bloody fucking hell was he supposed to do with that girl?
This chapter was a lot longer than I'd planned! Sorry there's quite a lot straight from the book but this bit was important! Hope you like it :) I'm sure there was something I needed to say here but I can't remember what it was. If it comes back to me I'll either stick it in here or on the next chapter. Thanks for reading.
*Text in between the asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K Rowling - I've actually fiddled with it quite a lot to make it seem from another point of view but some stuff is still word for word so the asterisks give an outline.