Although it was always thrilling to get back to Hogwarts, the torches, the flagged-stone floor, the high windows and floating candles and the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, the thrill was tempered somewhat by Malfoy's foul antics, Hagrid's absence and the warning of the Sorting Hat. That was certainly unexpected.

And Umbridge was trouble. Hermione knew it with a certainty that worried her. Umbridge was nothing but trouble. Her little speech was confirmation. She was Fudge's sidekick and she was here to interfere at Hogwarts, probably to destabilise Harry and Dumbledore. She might be wearing a fluffy pink cardigan but her intentions were darker than Snape's robes.

Snape.

He looked tired. And angry.

Shit. She was supposed to be dealing with the first years.

*"Ron, we're supposed to show the first-years where to go!*

"Oh yeah," said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey-hey, you lot! Midgets!"

"Ron!"

"Well, they are, they're titchy ..."

"I know, but you can't call them midgets! First-years!" She called commandingly along the table. "This way, please!"*

She didn't know why she was no excited, no, nervous, for her first lesson back with Snape.

*They sat at their usual table at the back.

"Settle down," said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him.

There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence. He was rather impressive.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an "Acceptable" in your OWL, or suffer my ... displeasure."

His gaze lingered this time on Neville, who gulped.

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye."

His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled. Harry glared back.

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell" said Snape softly, "so, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." Hermione sat up a little straighter with a shiver of excitement. "The ingredients and method-" Snape flicked his wand "-are on the blackboard- (they appeared there) "-you will find everything you need-" he flicked his wand again "-in the store cupboard-" (the door of the store cupboard sprang open) "-you have an hour and a half... Start."

Just as they had predicted, Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.

"A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.*

She felt a simmer of pride that her potion was just as it should be. When her Professor passed her cauldron and looked down his hooked nose at it, he swept off without comment and she felt like she was glowing; he'd obviously found nothing to criticise.

But then he started being royal bastard to Harry. She hated it when he started on her best friend. Especially now, was it not enough that nearly the entire school thought Harry was a mad, attention seeking liar? That he was pointed at and whispered about at every turning? Why did her Professor insist on making his life even harder?

*"That was really unfair," she said consolingly, sitting down next to Harry and helping herself to shepherd's pie. "Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's; when he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire."

"Yeah, well," said Harry, glowering at his plate, "since when has Snape ever been fair to me?"

And it was true; all three of them knew that Snape and Harry's mutual enmity had been absolute from the moment Harry had set foot in Hogwarts.

"I did think he might be a bit better this year," said Hermione, feeling disappointed. "I mean ... you know ..." she looked around carefully; there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of them and nobody was passing the table " ... now he's in the Order and everything."

"Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots," said Ron sagely. "Anyway, I've always thought Dumbledore was cracked to trust Snape. Where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?"

"I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, Ron," she snapped, instantly on the defensive on behalf of Snape, even if he could be foul.

"Oh, shut up, the pair of you," said Harry heavily, as Ron opened his mouth to argue back. They both froze, angry and offended. "Can't you give it a rest?" said Harry. "You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad." And abandoning his shepherd's pie, he swung his schoolbag back over his shoulder and left them sitting there.*

And that was where the main problem lay; Harry's temper. He was angry. Even when he wasn't angry he still sort of was, just under the surface. It was shaping up to be a real issue.

Snape walked into the Hall and sat next to Dumbledore. Her trust in him wasn't going to waver just because he was a bastard. He'd always been a bastard and never claimed to be anything else. The fact that she forgot sometimes certainly wasn't his fault. He looked over at her and their eyes met. He looked … worried perhaps? He quickly looked away, his hair obscuring her view of his face once again.

"Harry has got to stop taking his temper out on us." She declared testily to Ron. He nodded and their arguing stopped just like that. Just like it always did.

From the moment Umbridge made them chant 'Good afternoon Professor Umbridge' like 6 year olds, Hermione lost all respect the woman. The course aims said nothing about using any spells and she decided to test the her out. At first it was great, testing authority was definitely something she'd need to start doing more often, more and more people were putting Umbridge through the wringer but then Harry joined in. And from the moment she saw the look of triumph in Umbridge's expression, she knew that she'd inadvertently given the toad what she'd wanted all along. She was trying to undermine Harry, and if he couldn't keep a hold on his anger, he was going to make it easy for her.

She went straight to McGonagall after class.

"She's going after Harry." She said without preamble.

Her Head of House eyed her, half irritable half anxious.

"He still listens to you. You need to control his temper."

"If he can't control it then how am I supposed to?!" It had come out more angry than she'd meant it to. "Sorry Professor. I'm just worried. Maybe if Professor Dumbledore talked to Harry…"

"The Headmaster is busy." McGonagall replied stiffly.

Well that confirmed it; something weird was going on with Dumbledore, Harry needed him, especially now. Where was he?

The rest of the week passed in a blur and by Sunday she found she was missing certain members of the Order she'd gotten rather used to seeing. Tonks, Lupin, Mr and Mrs Weasley and Moody. She also thought vaguely about Snape, wondering if she could come up with a reason to go and see him. No. She shook her head. There must be something wrong with her. Why would she want to see him? He was a bastard and he clearly didn't think much of her. 'But he doesn't hate you anymore,' said a tiny, excited voice in her head.

And then Sirius' head was in the fire. That man was reckless beyond belief, first leaving Headquarters in dog form and being potentially recognised by Malfoy and now this.

*"So we're being prevented from learning Defence Against the Dark Arts because Fudge is scared we'll use spells against the Ministry?" she said, furious.*

Fudge was the barmy one not Harry. This was ridiculous, they had to know how to defend themselves. Sirius became sullen once again when they insisted he stayed at Grimmauld place and disappeared in sulk and a gentle pop.

*MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM

DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED

FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR

Shit.

"So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this "Educational Decree" and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect the other teachers!'" She cried, breathing fast. "I can't believe this. It's outrageous!"*

But there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. Yet. She'd have to think of something especially nasty to do to that horrible woman.

She looked around the Hall. Dumbledore alone looked calm at the top table, sipping his tea delicately. All the other teachers appeared on a scale from mildly concerned to absolutely furious. McGonagall was topping the scale. Her mouth was so thinned it was barely visible and her eyebrows were so furrowed she looked almost hawk-like. Snape looked bored. But there was a tightness around his eyes and he had a white-knuckle grip on his knife and fork, betraying his anger, to her at least. This school needed Dumbledore, now more than ever.

She started 'Umbridge-baiting' as she'd named it, again at the next Defence lesson. And once again it had been fun until…

*'Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher,' said Harry loudly, "there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."

This pronouncement was followed by one of the loudest silences Hermione had ever heard. Then-

"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge sleekly.*

Perfect. Harry's hand had barely healed. Just bloody perfect. Harry did not listen to her anymore, not unless it was about homework. She had to do something…

And that was how she found herself outside Snape's office. He was not going to be happy. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and knocked.

"Enter." Came his deep, even voice from inside.

She opened the door and walked up to his desk, he didn't seem surprised to see her. He said nothing, just gazed at her, a slight sneer curling his thin top lip. Her level of nervousness raised a notch. She'd decided not to tell him the absolute truth, mostly because she didn't want to add to his stress, but partly because she was secretly afraid that he'd be able to do nothing to stop Umbridge. She'd also considered Madame Pomfrey, but decided she was more likely to ask difficult questions

"Sir I was wondering what the best treatment would be for a cut caused by dark object?" She asked, proud of how steady she'd kept her voice.

He continued to gaze at her impassively, though the lines round his eyes tightened slightly and his fingers traced his lips. His hair didn't look very greasy today, in fact it looked quite shiny, it was much nicer shiny…

"I thought you'd been researching Healing, Miss Granger." He said softly.

She stared at him. How on earth did he know about that?

"Well yes," she answered, flustered and confused. "but I don't know everything about it and I've only been reading about certain … things and I presumed a simple Healing Potion wouldn't be much use against something so evil so I-" she stopped talking abruptly and looked back at Snape. He seemed troubled.

"How wonderful to finally hear the know-it-all admit that she doesn't know everything." He sneered at her, his earlier expression melting into one of disgust.

Hermione felt her face fall and she stared at her shoes. He wasn't going to help her. She'd been relying on his help, he was in the Order after all…

In one swift movement Snape leant across his desk and grabbed her left arm, pulling it roughly towards him and pushing up her sleeve, examining the skin on her hand. His fingertips were soft. He sighed and released her, looking relieved. Her heart rate increased.

"Potter deserves it." He said.

She stared at him for what felt like several minutes. Then all at once she was hot and shaking and furious.

"HOW DARE YOU?! You know?! You know what she's doing to him, you know she's torturing a 15 year old boy and you do nothing?! You stand there and say he deserves it? How dare you! You are an evil bastard! And I've spent years defending you! I trusted you! How can you even-"

She stopped at the look on Snape's face. It was murderous.

"Of course he deserves it you imbecile. All he would have to do to avoid such treatment is to control that damnable temper of his. He shouts his defiance at her. People who cannot control themselves and their emotions are pathetic and weak and deserve everything they get." He hissed at her his face twisted and flushed.

He was right that Harry could avoid the detentions, she'd been trying to get him to stop baiting Umbridge so obviously herself, and yet…

"But maybe he's doing exactly what needs to be done, regardless of the consequences, even if it isn't for the right reasons. He's shouting the truth. He's being consistent and sooner or later everyone's going to realise he's been right all along, and then they'll see. Maybe everyone needs to hear him shouting. And besides it's hardly surprising he can't control his temper. He's forced to compete in a tournament he never put his name down for, he ends up watching one of his competitors get killed right in front of him, he witnesses You-Know-Who's return, he fights him and ends up seeing the shadows of people You-Know-Who's killed, including his own parents, after all that he makes it back to Hogwarts only to be whipped off and almost killed by one of his Professors and then he's shoved back into a household of abusive muggles with no word from anyone of what's going on for weeks."

Oh God. She'd yelled at Snape. Twice. She glanced up at his face, he appeared furious until they locked eyes, bright amber against cold black. His anger seemed to evaporate and he stared at her oddly once again, leaning back against his desk chair. He looked tired and pale and clammy.

"And do I have fewer reasons to be angry?" He asked, his voice soft as velvet and his eyes boring into hers. "How do you imagine I spent my summer?"

She stood there gaping at him. She had no idea what to say. Several minutes passed.

"You're not a 15 year old school boy." She said finally, her voice very quiet.

"But I was once." He answered, still not breaking eye contact.

She thought again of the unwashed, unloved little boy with an extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts, who was bullied by Sirius.

"And were you angry then?"

He blinked and a slight furrow appeared between his brows. His sallow skin looked almost sickly.

"Yes." He whispered, his voice so quiet she almost didn't hear him. And then she wanted to take the hand that was still on his desk and hold it in her own so much she felt light-headed and quickly clenched her hands together, shaking her head to try and clear it. A silence settled heavily between them. She still wanted to take his hand and had to stop herself from staring at it.

Snape was still angry. She realised that now. Harry couldn't control his temper, but Snape obviously could, at least most of the time, he'd found a way to control his anger. Maybe she needed to find a way to get Harry to control his.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out suddenly, her voice sounding rather loud and making her Professor jump. "I'm so sorry for everything you've been through," she continued earnestly, hoping to God or Merlin or whoever that he'd believe just how sorry she was. "but that doesn't mean that what Umbridge is doing to Harry is ok. Detention is one thing but forcing him to carve his own hand open…" She broke off, unable to control the shaking of her voice from an anger so fiery she felt sick from it.

She looked up at Snape but he was staring quite determinedly at his desk. He wasn't going to help her. She sighed and turned to leave.

"Take care of yourself Professor." She said softly as she neared the door.

"Do you still trust me?" Snape snapped, his voice rough, looking furious, but somehow she knew it wasn't directed at her.

"What?"

"Do you still trust me?" He was avoiding her eyes.

"I… Yes of course I do. I shouldn't have said that sir. I apologise."

She waited for him to say something, but although he had risen from his desk when he'd called to her, he made no further sign of movement and he wouldn't look at her. She put her hand on the door handle.

"You need to strain and pickle Murtlap tentacles, there's a small supply in the student store cupboard."

His voice came out all in a rush and before she'd could turn and thank him he'd disappeared through the door leading to his quarters.

She stood with her hand on the door handle for some time, frowning. What had just happened? She desperately wanted to go after him, hammer on his door until he came out but something held her back. Maybe this was his Slytherin way of thanking her? Maybe she was over thinking things, but then that made it twice in a row that Snape had almost literally run from her. And what did he care if she still trusted him or not? He was so confusing. But at least she knew how to help Harry now, which was something. And she needed to think of an outlet for Harry's anger. Actually maybe she had just the thing…

*"Here," she said anxiously, "soak your hand in that, it's a solution of strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles, it should help."

"Thanks," he said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks's ears with his left hand.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," said Ron in a low voice.

"No," said Harry flatly.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew-"

"Yeah, she probably would," said Harry dully. 'And how long do you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

Ron opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out and, after a moment, he closed it again, defeated. Harry was right, Snape was proof of that, if he knew then some of the other teachers must know too, and there was nothing they could do. It was a very chilling realisation.

"She's an awful woman," said Hermione in a small voice. "awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in ... we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison," said Ron grimly.

"No ... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any Defence from her at all." She said. "You know, I was thinking today ..." she looked nervously at Harry and then plunged on, "I was thinking that - maybe the time's come when we should just - just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" said Harry suspiciously, still floating his hand in the essence of Murtlap tentacles.

"Well-learn Defence Against the Dark Arts ourselves," said Hermione.

"Come off it," groaned Ron. "You want us to do extra work? D'you realise Harry and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week?"

"But this is much more important than homework!" she said.

Harry and Ron goggled at her.

"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework!" said Ron.

"Don't be silly, of course there is," she said "It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting for us out there. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year-"

"We can't do much by ourselves," said Ron in a defeated voice. "I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practise them, I suppose-"

"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books," she said. "We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong."

"Who?" said Harry, frowning at her.

She heaved a very deep sigh.

"Isn't it obvious?" she said. "I'm talking about you, Harry."*

It was the perfect plan – they needed to learn how to defend themselves and Harry needed to be focusing his energy on something, something that would make him feel involved and useful.

Harry put up a fight naturally and then ended up losing his temper once again and smashing the bowl of essence of Murtlap tentacles she'd spent most of the afternoon preparing. But then she said Vol – Voldemort. And it had calmed him. And he agreed to think about it; that would do for now but this was not something she was going to give up on in a hurry. It was going to happen one way or another.

It had to.

Thanks for reading!

*Text between asterisks* from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by the one and only J.K Rowling