She bided her time for the next two weeks and said nothing about Harry teaching them. She turned 16 on the 19th of September, apparently it wasn't as significant in the magical world as it was in the muggle one, but she'd still received plenty of presents and cards and had a lovely day. It didn't matter that Snape had walked directly past her while she was carrying her Birthday cake and done nothing but glare at her. Nope. Didn't matter at all. And now it was the start of October and Harry had agreed to teach about 27 of them, they just had to sort out when and where to meet. It was definitely a good start.

But then that bitch had disbanded all groups and someone had intercepted Harry's owl. Umbridge was getting more and more full of herself and it wasn't even Christmas yet. They'd carry on with the Defence group of course but they were going to have to be so careful with that toad intent on causing Harry trouble.

What a shitty few months. 'Shitty life' said a tiny, resentful voice in his head but he quickly suppressed it; he didn't have much time for depressing thoughts. He'd spent his summer being Summoned frequently to the Dark Lords side, he wasn't exactly in favour, none of them were, but the information about Hogwarts and Dumbledore and the Order he'd been able to provide had left him slightly less out of favour than many of the other Death Eaters. As such he hadn't been badly punished thus far, but that didn't make the meetings much less unpleasant, even if he had been spared the necessity of doing any muggle torturing or baiting; once the Dark Lord moved into the open, all that would change, and having to monitor every word and every facial expression and every thought while he was with his Master was beyond stressful. It was a torture in its own right, even with Occlumency numbing it all somewhat. It wasn't like he got much rest now he was back at Hogwarts either, even if he wasn't involved in trying to protect or obtain that bloody Prophecy, what with essays to mark and lessons to plan, as well as Death Eater and Order meetings. And now he had the additional unpleasantness that was an evil old hag in a fluffy cardigan to deal with as well.

He opened the door to his classroom where the 5th year Gryffindors and Slytherins were waiting. A strange sight met his eyes; Weasley and Potter were holding back a purpling and sweating Longbottom from a rather shocked looking Draco. If he hadn't been so bloody tired, this may have interested him, but as it was…

*"Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" he said, sneering at them. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you."

"You will notice, that we have a guest with us today."

He gestured towards the dim corner of the dungeon where Professor Umbridge was sitting, clipboard on her knee.

"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend – instructions-" he waved his wand "-on the board. Carry on."*

As he walked around the classroom his eyes kept drifting over to Granger, he watched her save Potter's potion twice, the boy was really making it far too easy for Umbridge, and she kept shooting the woman looks of such fierce loathing that it almost made him smile. Almost. He scowled, that girl was trouble. She'd almost made him laugh twice over the summer as well. She was so Gryffindor, so open and blunt and after her declaration of worry for him, he'd felt so wrong footed that when she'd just blurted out "I don't like Sirius", all big eyes and honesty he'd felt so startled, and oddly, so pleased that at least someone appeared to like him more than that dog he'd felt gloriously amused. Then she'd looked shy suddenly and asked him to join her, and stressed and lonely fool that he was he'd sat down. The immediately jumped up and left, cursing her and his weakness. She was trouble, he couldn't fathom why she worried about him, and her worry was something that was at once comforting and irritating. He was nothing to do with her, but he noticed her assessing gaze run over him nearly every time he saw her.

And then she'd just walked straight up to him and asked him for help. Him. Hated Potions Master and Death Eater. He'd known at once that she was referring to Umbridge's blood quill, he couldn't help noticing the marks on Potter's hand teaching a subject that required so much practical work and he'd recognised it at once; the man who had taught him for his Masters had used them frequently on his younger students and relished the power it gave him. But he'd liked Severus, or rather, he'd liked the Dark Lord who'd been the one that had set him up for further training, and so he'd never been forced to use one on himself. At first it had been wonderful to be in favour, that was something he'd certainly never experienced at Hogwarts, but by the end it had just made him feel ill to see so many underage students with bleeding hands and defeated faces. That was probably why he'd been so filled with a white, blinding panic when he'd thought that it was Granger who was suffering at Umbridge's hands. As much of an annoyance as she was, he never wanted to see her look defeated. Ever. She was fiery and brave and bloody infuriating and that was how she should stay. He just wasn't used to students coming to him for help. Especially Gryffindors. And especially Gryffindors who looked at him so openly and earnestly and worried about him. Bloody Granger. The amount of relief he'd felt when her hand had been unblemished had surprised and bothered him. Why should it matter if she was being forced to use the blood quill? It certainly wouldn't kill her, but all the same he'd been relieved it was only Potter, and he'd said so. Or something along those lines, he couldn't quite remember, but then she'd looked furious, so furious her hair had seemed to crackle with electricity and she'd shouted at him. Told him off more like. And he'd been furious back and she'd looked up at him, filled with disappointment once more and something in his chest had hurt and he'd felt the need to try and explain himself. Then she'd looked at him with such understanding and empathy it had made him feel physically sick, he didn't deserve a look like that, he was a cold evil Death Eater bastard and good little Gryffindor girls should not look at him like that. And then Granger had apologised to him, apologised for what he'd been through, as if it was somehow her fault and she wanted forgiveness. Stupid girl.

He'd had to know if she still trusted him, in that moment her trust had suddenly and inexplicably become something important to him, something he really didn't want to lose. "Yes of course I do." she'd said, and he'd been relieved again and it had almost made him hate her because somehow she'd managed to become something slightly more than just another student to him, meaning she now had a hold on him and he hated that, yet another person who had something over him. Then instead of sending her running out of his dungeons never to return, he'd actually helped her and then run himself. He was pathetic.

And then, on top of all that, she'd walked past him on her Birthday, carrying some huge and elaborate Birthday cake and she'd smiled at him, all open faced and hopeful. Insufferable girl, if she kept that up he'd have to have words with her. His life certainly wasn't anything worth celebrating but he didn't fancy dying just yet and he wasn't above suspicion within the Death Eaters, the last thing he needed was for anyone to notice the muggleborn best friend of Harry Potter smiling at him. She did have quite a nice smile though... No she didn't. She was plain and insufferable.

Umbridge's girlish voice brought him back to the present.

*"Well, the class seem fairly advanced for their level," she said briskly to his back. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."

The Ministry are idiots, he longed to say but kept his mouth shut. Instead he straightened up slowly and turned to look at her.

"Now … how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard.

"Fourteen years," Snape replied, keeping his expression unfathomable. Potter was staring at him. Brat.

"You applied first for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape.

"Yes," he said quietly.

"But you were unsuccessful?"

So this was where she was going. He felt his lip curl.

"Obviously."

Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard.

"And you have applied regularly for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes," he said quietly, feeling very angry now.

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge.

"I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily, he hated being undermined, especially in front of students.

"Oh, I shall," said Professor Umbridge, with a sickly sweet smile.

"I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed in dislike.

"Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge, "yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' - er - backgrounds."*

Of course. Fudge had told his little crony all about his Dark Mark but naturally she didn't want to question him about that, seeing as the Ministry were doing their very best to stick their heads very far into the sand wherever anything vaguely Dark Lord related was concerned. Idiots.

Sirius was an idiot and now she was very worried. Not only had Umbridge nearly grabbed his head in the fire, he also thought their illegal Defence group was a great idea. That made her think it just might be a very bad one if it was the kind of reckless, stupid thing Sirius would do himself.

*"I was just wondering," she said, her voicing her fears to the boys the next day, "whether we're doing the right thing, starting this Defence Against the Dark Arts group."

"What?" said Harry and Ron together.

"Hermione, it was your idea in the first place!" said Ron indignantly.

"I know," Hermione said, twisting her fingers together. "But after talking to Snuffles . . ."

"But he's all for it," said Harry.

"Yes," she said, staring at the window again. "Yes, that's what made me think maybe it wasn't a good idea after all . . ."

Peeves floated over them on his stomach, peashooter at the ready; automatically all three of them lifted their bags to cover their heads until he had passed.

"Let's get this straight," said Harry angrily, as they put their bags back on the floor, "Sirius agrees with us, so you don't think we should do it anymore?"

She felt tense and rather miserable. Now staring at her own hands, she said, "Do you honestly trust his judgement?"

"Yes, I do!" said Harry at once. "He's always given us great advice!"

An ink pellet whizzed past them, striking Katie Bell squarely in the ear. She watched Katie leap to her feet and start throwing things at Peeves; it was a few moments before she spoke again and she chose her words very carefully.

"You don't think he has become … sort of ... reckless ... since he's been cooped up in Grimmauld Place? You don't think he's … kind of ... living through us?"

"What d'you mean, 'living through us'?" Harry retorted.

"I mean ... well, I think he'd love to be forming secret Defence societies right under the nose of someone from the Ministry ... I think he's really frustrated at how little he can do where he is ... so I think he's keen to kind of … egg us on."

Ron looked utterly perplexed.

"Sirius is right"' he said, "you do sound just like my mother."

She bit her lip and did not answer. That hadn't gone well, not that she'd expected it to, but still. She sighed. She did think they were doing the right thing but it was incredibly reckless, and it wasn't just her, Ron and Harry's lives that would be affected, there were 25 others. She wondered vaguely what Snape would think then quickly changed her train of thought; Snape would be angry either way. The bell rang just as Peeves swooped down on Katie and emptied an entire ink bottle over her head.*

The Room of Requirement was just wonderful. It gave them everything they could possible need, it was like the castle itself thought they were doing the right thing. And the first lesson had been great, Harry may not have been a natural leader but he certainly did well when leadership was thrust upon him. She was proud. And she'd noticed his temper had been more in check recently, and that made her doubly proud. She just needed to come up with a way for them all to communicate now.

And Hermione did just that in the next few days. It was all because she'd been worrying about Snape again, he'd started to look more taut and stressed recently and she'd noticed he wasn't eating very much in the Great Hall either. She'd been lying awake one night, thinking about Snape drunk, Snape's nightmare, Snape sitting with her at 4am, Snape shocked when she asked him to be careful, Snape breathing with her when she was scared, Snape in pain from his Dark Mark, Snape healing her hands, Snape in pain from his Dark Mark again, Snape's hand under hers, Snape Summoned…

And then it just sort of, came to her.

*"You know what these remind me of?" Harry asked.

"No, what's that?"

"The Death Eaters' scars. Voldemort touches one of them, and all their scars burn, and they know they've got to join him."

"Well … yes," she said quietly, wondering again when Harry became so insightful, "that is where I got the idea ... but you'll notice I decided to engrave the date on bits of metal rather than on our members' skin."

"Yeah ... I prefer your way," said Harry, grinning, as he slipped his Galleon into his pocket.*

Snape *booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin Quidditch practice so often that the Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play. He turned a deaf ear to the many reports of Slytherin attempts to hex Gryffindor players in the corridors, and when Alicia Spinnet turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast they obscured her vision and obstructed her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eye-witnesses who insisted they had seen the Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley, hit her from behind with a jinx while she worked in the library.* That was when Hermione decided there may be something seriously wrong with her; far from finding his antics foul and unjust, she found them rather amusing and it seemed like something Ron would do, which made her feel rather fond of him. Oh dear. But it wasn't as if Quidditch was quite so important these days surely? Poor Ron certainly seemed to think it was still vital, seeing him so nervous and pale made something simmer behind her sternum, and she thoughtlessly kissed him on the cheek. Well that was weird.

As she sat back down she noticed Snape glaring daggers at her across the Hall. What on Earth had she done now? Aside from lessons, she'd had very little to do with her Potions Professor since she'd asked him for help in September. It was now mid November. She could think of no reason for him looking at her like that. Strange man. She smiled at her cereal.

She wasn't smiling anymore when all the Slytherins were singing Weasley is our King. That was just disgusting, who would want to win like that anyway? That's what they're like, she thought viciously then immediately felt bad. Snape wasn't singing. But he was smirking. A lot. What was it he said? "People who cannot control themselves and their emotions are pathetic and weak and deserve everything they get." Or they're just … human. It was hardly surprising Ron was making a mess of this match.

*"Have you seen Ron?" She asked Harry much later in a low voice.

Harry shook his head.

"I think he's avoiding us" she said. "Where do you think he - ?"

But at that precise moment, there was a creaking sound behind them as the Fat Lady swung forwards and Ron came clambering through the portrait hole. He was very pale indeed and there was snow in his hair. When he saw Harry and Hermione, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Where have you been?" she said anxiously, springing up.

"Walking," Ron mumbled. He was still wearing his Quidditch things.

"You look frozen, come and sit down!"

Ron walked to the fireside and sank into the chair furthest from Harry's, not looking at him.

"I'm sorry," Ron mumbled, looking at his feet.

"What for?" said Harry.

"For thinking I can play Quidditch," said Ron. "I'm going to resign first thing tomorrow."

"If you resign," said Harry testily, "there'll only be three players left on the team." And when Ron looked puzzled, he said, "I've been given a lifetime ban. So've Fred and George."

"What?" Ron yelped.*

Harry looked to be in physical pain so she relayed the story. It was only a game but this was just another example of Umbridge being an unfair little toad. She hated that woman so much. Harry had really started to seem better recently and now…. He loved Quidditch, and that hag had taken it away from him.

But Hagrid was back, he was beaten and bloody and exhausted but he was back and he was pleased to see them. It didn't matter that he hadn't been successful with the giants – well it sort of did - it was just so good to see him. His homecoming cheered up even Harry and Ron, there was hope for them all.

She couldn't believe how horrid that evil old hag toad bitch was to Hagrid in their lesson. It was the most underhanded, foul thing she could conceive, and for someone in government to behave that way … the Ministry had hit an all time low. Hermione was sitting in the Library trying to read about Healing again but her focus was slipping, for one she still hadn't really found anything so far about treatment for the Cruciatus Curse, except the odd spell to make the patient more comfortable, and for another, she was still in a towering fury over Umbridge. The image of her speaking slowly and miming to Hagrid, as if he was dim-witted savage kept playing in her mind's eye over and over and over …

The lamp on her table exploded.

"Now now Miss Granger, you may wish to get a hold on that temper of yours or you'll end up like Potter." Said Snape in his cold and sneering voice appearing out of nowhere.

She felt herself flush and took a few deep breaths, looking up into his face. This was the first time she'd seen him up close for months. His sallow skin was almost grey, the ever present dark shadows around his eyes looked almost black and the lines around his eyes looked somehow tight. A muscle by his mouth twitched as they looked at one another, and a fleeting change of expression overtook his face and was gone too quickly for her to decipher it.

"How are you?" She asked him quietly, a knot of worry deep inside her.

Snape glared at her before quickly uttering some spell around them both Hermione didn't have time to identify. He bent very close to her face looking enraged.

"Anyone could be listening you stupid girl." He hissed and she paled. Shit.

"I'm so sorry Professor, I just didn't think-"

"That," he said, his voice soft and deadly, "is obvious."

She bowed her head, feeling incredibly contrite and waited for him to leave. He didn't.

"Why are you researching Healing?" He demanded, indicating to the book lying open in front of her.

"It seemed a good idea what with all that's going on as well as having Harry and Ron for friends." She smiled timidly up at him but her smile faltered at his stony expression.

"The real reason if you please." He snapped.

She remained silent for a time, thinking hard, she'd almost told the truth but her initial motivation had been different; she somehow doubted Snape would much appreciate her researching cures for Unforgivables in case he was ever hurt and needed her. She was well aware how unlikely such an event was but all the same…

"I'm just interested, is all." She answered, not daring to tell him the whole truth.

He glared at her.

She summoned some Gryffindor courage.

"So how are you?"

His face flushed, with anger she presumed, and his glare intensified. She sighed and slumped back into her chair.

"Fine. Don't tell me sir. Leave me here to worry." She said, her voice tired and defeated.

He frowned at her, looked on the verge of opening his mouth, then quickly turned and stalked away, his robes billowing behind him.

She hoped he was alright. Bastard.

So here we are, I know this chapter's not particularly Snermione orientated but the next few should be more so I think. Thanks for reading :)

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