A/N: Hello dear readers, and welcome to the third chapter of "Accommodations"! This one is a tad longer than the previous two, and future chapters will usually be somewhere between 3'500 and 6'000 words, though I'll endeavour to rarely have less than 5'000 words. Please, let me hear your opinion on how chapters work out where I switch between Hermione's and Severus's perspective; I'd love to hear your thoughts. But now - enjoy!

Monday, September 9th, 1995

The boys had raced ahead to lunch, as expected. Usually, Hermione would be bothered by the fact that food was evidently more important to the boys than their female third possibly needing some cheering up after a tête-à-tête with Professor Snape. Today, however, she was quite glad that they had not waited up on her. She did not feel in the mood to talk about what had just conspired.

Hermione was still very much uncertain about what exactly had just happened. She wanted to hit herself on the head for not thinking of the very high possibility that Professor Snape would notice her change in behaviour towards him. After all, when had the man ever not noticed something going on around him?

What she simply could not understand, however, was why he hadn't believed her. After all, she of all the Gryffindors was the only one likely to reconsider her attitude towards him. And she had indeed been sincere when she had told him that she had found new gratitude and respect for him and had decided to act accordingly. Of course she could not tell him that this wasn't all – if she told him that the Headmaster had asked her to befriend the dour Potions Master – or rather, accommodate him if he chose to befriend her – he would very probably bite her head off and hex her into pieces so small that none of them would fill even a thimble.

She had certainly not expected that he would snap at her and call her a liar, of all things. Hermione Granger was known for her love of all things factual, and for her to tell a lie would indeed necessitate dire circumstances.

But if she thought about it…

Well, it seemed she had lied to Professor Snape's face quite a bit over her years at Hogwarts. First, on All Hallows' Eve in her first year, when she had taken the blame for their fight with a troll, even though Ron had made her cry so that she felt the need to run and hide in the girls' toilet, and the boys had locked the troll in with her.

In her second year, she had stolen precious potions ingredients from him to brew the Polyjuice Potion. In her third year, he had not been among the very few people who knew about her Time Turner. That had been a secrecy measure dictated by the Ministry and wasn't in itself a lie, but she had used the Time Turner later that year to help Harry save Buckbeak and Sirius, the latter of whom Professor Snape had expected to be Kissed. Of course, the Potions Master had been wrong about Sirius being the murderer he had been convicted as, but working behind his back to save his childhood nemesis probably counted as a lie nonetheless. Plus, she had not reported Harry when he sneaked into Hogsmeade, neither in their third nor their fourth year.

So maybe he hadn't got to know her as the most trustworthy person. Even though, from his perspective, he probably suspected the boys being responsible for most of those instances and thus had no real knowledge of her lying to him. On the other hand, Hermione was known as the brains of the trio, so it was quite likely that he could make an educated guess and reach the correct conclusion that she had known and possibly even concocted the plans for these situations.

Hermione's retrospections came to a halt when she arrived at the Great Hall. She sought out the boys to sit with them. Lunch was as quiet an affair as it would get at the Gryffindor table. After having waved off Ron and Harry's questions about her talk with Professor Snape, she was left mostly to her own affairs.

Ignoring the boys' recollections of the Quidditch try-outs the previous Friday, she chose to think upon how to become the companion Professor Dumbledore had requested for his Potions Master. The Headmaster himself had said that Professor Snape would react rather unfavourably if she approached him about the possibility of a friendship between the two of them. No, he would have to be the one to approach her.

That left the question of how to make herself approachable for the dour Potions Master?

The main problem appeared to be that Professor Snape avoided conversation with her as much as possible, except the occasional admonishment for being an insufferable know-it-all, as he liked to put it. Her first goal would thus have to be regular interaction. Her attempt to force him into interaction with her by preparing her ingredients rather sloppily had worked so far. True, it had resulted in a few scathing remarks and a loss of House points, but Hermione had done her best to remain polite, respectful, and amenable to as much as grateful for his help.

Permanent negligence in her brewing, however, was not the road to take, Hermione surmised. It would probably prompt Professor Snape into interaction with her a couple of times, but failing to improve despite his help would certainly lessen his opinion of her considerably.

Of course, Hermione remembered, there was a very low possibility that his opinion of her could sink any lower. After all, he had just assigned her a rather excessive amount of detention, immediately after having accused her of lying to his face. It would not do to ponder on that, however, she decided. More important now was finding a way to extend their interaction.

A learning environment seemed advantageous, as their almost civil conversation when Professor Snape corrected her dicing technique had proven. Hermione sought to break down that scene into its basic elements that led to polite interaction. After some thought, she discerned that apparently she had been inapt enough to demand his tutoring, and promising (she dared not think intelligent as it probably was no attribute Professor Snape would grant her) enough to deserve it.

If she thought on it, detention actually wasn't the worst outcome of her first attempt to force her professor into interaction with her. At least he hadn't handed her over to Mr Filch; now that would have been counterproductive. No, this way he had laid the foundation for an environment in which the two of them would repeatedly be alone together. Of course, there was always the high possibility that he would set her to scrubbing cauldrons or some other mindless task that nonetheless would demand her full attention. She hoped for something allowing some kind of conversation instead.

It was of little use to ponder what task Professor Snape would set her for their detention tonight, as she could do little to influence that now. What she could influence, however, was their future interaction. Hermione set to make a plan for the long run.

Having already decided that a learning environment would be most beneficial in making herself approachable for the dour Potions Master, the question remained what to learn? Hermione knew that she was quite decent at Potions, but certainly not a natural as Professor Snape was. Achieving a grasp of the subject similar to his level, however, would demand instinct and intuition, both of which she felt one could not learn if one didn't possess those traits already, and a request for such tutorship would most certainly be denied her anyway.

So what other subjects remained?

She remembered that Professor Snape had repeatedly applied for the post of DADA teacher, and had subsequently been denied the position every year. Maybe she should ask him to teach her defence? He would certainly be a capable teacher, offering much to be learned from him, and those lessons would be sorely needed if Umbridge continued to refuse them practice. However, Hermione did not know what Professor Snape's attitude towards the Ministry toad was. Was he as enraged at the Ministry's interference at Hogwarts as she was? Or did he approve of Umbridge's methods? Hermione could not be sure.

With the toad as DADA teacher, they certainly would not be learning any effective defence this year. If Hermione was ever involved in a fight, she would very probably lose. Depending on her opponents intent, she would either die or be taken prisoner. Hermione shuddered at the thought. If it came to it, she would likely prefer the first option. Although she was not keen to die in this war, she would rather lose her life than betray the Order. Because what else happened to prisoners of war? The capturing side would attempt to squeeze out any and all secrets the prisoner knew about his own side. If Hermione fell into the hands of Death Eaters, she would be tortured for information about the Order, she was sure of it. And that, she mused, was not something she would be able to withstand for long.

Suddenly, she perked up. The boys saw her abrupt movement, but she waved them off and their conversation on the Quidditch try-outs – or wait, had they progressed to passionate Percy-bashing already? – continued. Hermione's mind, however, reeled.

That might be the solution!

Professor Snape was a reformed Death Eater, the Headmaster had said. It confirmed Harry's suspicions and everything he had seen and heard between Professor Snape and Headmaster Karkaroff last year. He would know everything there was to know about torture methods, and would be able to teach her how to withstand them. Doing so would constitute at least a small advantage to the Order. Hermione being as close to Harry as she was, and being known to be the brains of their trio, she would be the most likely to be questioned for information should they ever be captured. It would also make Professor Snape see that she was able to think ahead, sensible to prepare for the worst, and willing to endure torture in order to help the Light in this war.

As Hermione still convinced herself that her solution had many benefits and no drawbacks, lunch break came to an end. The trio parted ways in the Entrance Hall, the boys leaving for Divination as Hermione headed towards Ancient Runes. The difficult translations there left her with little to no room to ponder her detention with the Potions Master later that night any more.

After that lesson, the boys had quite a lot to say about Umbridge's inspection of their Divination class, but they had little time as they had to face the toad herself in their last lesson of the day, Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Hermione allowed herself some cheek, though she preferred to think of it as reasonable objections to Umbridge's teaching methods. The toad, it seemed, disagreed with the notion that a student – and a Gryffindor Muggle-born at that! – could contribute any input to the DADA lessons that were worth hearing. It felt good to at least partially put the toad in her place, but it also prompted the sprouting of some more Ministry-approved lies and the subsequent loss of her best friend's rather volatile temper.

Hermione struggled to hold Harry back, but ultimately could only watch as he got himself a week's worth of detention. When they sat down for dinner, Hermione spent most of the time berating him for being so stupid as to give Umbridge the satisfaction of giving him detention. Completely absorbed in her rant, she barely ate anything. She knew she should go easy on Harry, but even though she hated Umbridge and her methods herself, she couldn't understand why Harry would fall for her taunting so easily. Had he not learnt to pick his fights?

Harry's temper soon got the better of him, and he stormed off towards the common room. Hermione and Ron stayed at dinner, to give their best friend some space and time to cool off before he had to face the toad again that night. When the two of them finally left the Great Hall, Hermione quickly glanced back at the High Table. Professor Snape seemed to have already left.

Certain that the Potions Master would only become less pleasant the longer she left him to wait for her, she said a hasty good-bye to Ron and headed for the dungeons. She was almost across the Entrance Hall, when Ron called her back.

"Where are you going, 'Mione?" he asked, puzzled.

Hermione sighed.

"I have to go to Professor Snape to –" She hesitated. "…to serve my detention."

Ron's mouth fell open.

"You… you… what?! The git gave you detention?" he fumed finally.

"Don't call him that, Ron, he is very much our professor and we owe him much," Hermione chided.

Before Ron could voice the vicious retort she could see him shape in his mind, she quickly continued.

"Please don't tell Harry about this. He is so angry at his own detention already, I don't want him to have mine in mind as well."

Ron's expression changed to weary immediately.

"'Mione," he whined, "I don't think it's clever to lie to Harry right now."

"And I don't want you to," she assured. "It's not that I would keep it from him. I just don't want him to worry about this right now. And you know how his temper is at the moment. He would go completely over the brink. Plus, nobody knows about my detention with Professor Snape yet, and I would like it to remain that way for a little while. I promise, if it comes up while we're talking, I will tell Harry about it, but I don't think he needs to know just yet. Alright?"

Ron grumbled a little before agreeing. Hermione told him to not wait up on her should Harry be back before she was, and raced to the Potions classroom. There, she stood in front of the closed door and drew a few rugged breaths. When she had calmed down a little, she took all her bravery and knocked.

Severus spent the rest of the day deep in thought, snapping at every student who dared break his concentration, his face locked into a constant scowl. What had ridden him when he gave the girl detention? He would have to spend even more time with her now, and even worse, the two of them would be alone together.

The Potions Master pondered handing out even more detention to some unsuspecting students, if only to not have to bear the Granger girl's presence alone, but ultimately decided against it. After all, this was his opportunity to grate the real reason for her peculiar behaviour out of her. This time he would succeed, he was certain of it.

Severus took great care not to watch her at lunch, but his gaze seemed to wander over to the girl of their own volition. It gave him no small amount of satisfaction to see her angrily berate Potter. It irked him to admit even to himself, but she was stunning in her fury. Her hellish mane surrounded her pale face, perfectly framing her expression and drawing attention to her sparking eyes. Her hands flew through the air as she supported her arguments with wild gestures, her cheeks flushed, much as they had been earlier in the dungeons.

Severus had to wrench his gaze away from her before any of the students or – Merlin forbid! – his colleagues noticed him staring at the girl. When he saw Potter storm off – not that he'd been looking in his, and subsequently the girl's, direction – he decided maybe the foolish boy was not so foolish indeed, and decided to make his own, though endlessly more subtle, exit.

How he ended up in his Potions classroom, he could not remember, but there he was. He also couldn't remember any students scurrying out of his path on his way down here, so hopefully nobody had noticed his absence of mind. He settled himself in his chair, determined to calmly wait for the girl and fix her with a cold stare the second she entered the dungeon. A few seconds passed and he stood in front of his desk, his eyes trained on the door. Maybe it would be best to pounce on her from the back of the room, he decided, unseen, and strode across the classroom. If he aimed to be unseen, another fine choice might be to appear from the store room. Too small, he decided once therein, and made his way into his office. Then again, why give her even a few seconds reprieve from her well-deserved attention? Again he sat at the desk.

When he was still inwardly assessing the different options and their respective efficiency of instilling fear in the girl – Severus Snape was definitely not fidgeting, as Severus Snape never fidgeted – there was a knock on the door.

With a flick of his wand, the door swung open, silent in its movement until it softly hit the dungeon wall. The quiet sound echoed through the stillness of the dungeon, and he saw the girl visibly flinch. Damned Gryffindors, Snape thought, ever so obvious.

He fixed the girl with a cold stare as planned, though the expression came to his face much on instinct these days, especially with young Gryffindors. She was brave, Severus admitted to himself, holding his gaze almost defiantly, a small near-smile on her face, as if she was trying to show the correct amount of friendliness that would be polite enough but not too excessive as to become inappropriate. Then again, knowing the girl, it was probably mostly stubbornness that kept her lips crooked in a smile that was slowly faltering underneath his intense stare.

How easy it would be, Severus thought, to just slip into her mind and search it for the real reason behind her change in behaviour. The thought had barely crossed his mind when the girl averted her eyes. Had she simply faltered, her stubbornness torn apart by the unrelenting blackness of his eyes? Or could she have guessed at what he had almost attempted – no, not attempted, but evaluated attempting? Knowing the chit, she had probably read through half the Hogwarts library before Christmas her first year at the castle, and had to have come across some reference of Legilimency. If not, she had spent enough of her summer at Grimmauld Place, and there would be more than enough apt descriptions of the blackest of magic in the Black library – not that Legilimency legitimately counted as such, but many Dark curses and most mind magic required constant eye contact, and him being the Darkest of all the staff, she would be cautious around her Potions Master.

After a couple of seconds, when the girl's eyes still did not meet his, firmly fixed on some very specific spot on the floor, and she made no move to enter the dungeons, Severus realized that in her politeness, her stubbornness reached a whole new level.

He took great care not to audibly sigh as he drawled coldly, "Enter, Miss Granger".

At least the girl was quick to follow his commands.

When she stood before his desk, still obviously uncertain of what to do next, he spoke again. This time, he wasn't entirely certain he had kept his exhausted sigh from blending into his voice.

"What do you want, Miss Granger?"

The girl looked taken aback. Really, had she been this oblivious that he had not been satisfied with her answer earlier that day? Had she honestly expected to get away with her lies?

Her eyes met his.

"You assigned me detention, sir," she replied hesitantly. "I am here to receive my punishment."

"I have told you, Miss Granger," Severus said, his voice so cold now it could have stopped cells from moving, "that you should not make the mistake of taking me for a fool."

"No, sir, I-"

"Should you fail to keep that in mind," he cut her off, "and be so stupid as to prompt me even once more to repeat this advice to you, no amount of work in your other subjects combined will be able to make up for the number of points I will deduce from your House. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," the girl almost stuttered, defeated, "crystal clear."

"Now, Miss Granger," Severus drawled once more, "what is it you want?"

Her eyes had darted away during his admonishment, looking anywhere but at him, but now they met his gaze. He saw fear there, as he had rarely seen in her before. In fact, she was always so passionately stubborn and stubbornly passionate that the only moment that came to mind was the night Lupin had changed right before their eyes. She had been a mere slip of a girl then, a few months shy of fifteen, and facing a grown werewolf, she was probably a little out of her depth.

Other than that – even when she had been petrified by the Basilisk in her second year, she had not looked this fearful. Certainly, her stony face had shown an expression of considerable respect at the danger she was aware she might be facing around every corner.

But that was just it, wasn't it, Severus mused, the awareness?

That a Basilisk was roaming the castle she had discovered mere minutes before stumbling upon him, he surmised. The werewolf, however, was something that had slipped her mind – maybe not too incredible, if one took into account that she had been faced with a mass murderer that night who turned out to be innocent, and a rat that had been sleeping in her best friend's bed for several years had turned out to have committed the crimes the innocent ex-convict had been convicted for. In the excitement of all that, she had forgotten that in their midst was a grown werewolf who had missed taking his Wolfsbane potion that night, which happened to be the night of the full moon. She might have been the first to realize what was wrong, but they all had been doomed anyway.

He himself had been scared almost out of his mind that night, much as he hated to admit it. Too caught up in his joy at the revenge he would enact as he caught his childhood nemesis, he did not notice the three wands trained on him, in their eagerness to disarm him throwing him across the room until he hit the wall and was met with blackness. When he woke what he assumed to be little over an hour later, it was to the sight of a turning werewolf. Fear hit him like a bucket of cold water, drenching him, drawing him out of his stunned befuddlement. In his mind, he was back in 1977, promising the Headmaster that he would not tell anyone about having been almost killed by a werewolf living among the students.

Thinking of students had brought him back to the present then. He knew he could not hope to save them, but he would be damned if he died a coward. At least in death, he might be granted some semblance of peaceful freedom, though he very much doubted he would ever not be haunted by the memory of the accusing look in two brilliantly green eyes.

He had not died that night, it turned out, and neither had the children. On the other hand, the bastard Black had escaped from his seemingly inevitable Kiss.

Returning from his musing to the present, he realized that the girl still had not answered him.

"Miss Granger," he almost whispered, so low had his voice become, drenched with the promise of dire consequences should she fail to respond to his satisfaction, "have you suddenly become mute or are you unable to comprehend this very simple question?"

The fear had not left her eyes when she lifted her gaze to his face.

"Professor," she finally said reluctantly, close to stuttering her way through her response, "I wish to answer your question but I'm afraid that you would not believe me. I do not intend to give you the impression that I take you for a fool, but I fear that my reply would not be to your satisfaction. Thus, I see no way to answer you without stirring your anger once more."

She fell silent again, and Severus realized that it was his reaction she was so afraid about. That the girl would fear him procured an unpleasant feeling inside him. If he had been, indeed, a fool he might have thought it was shame. Usually, he revelled in the fact that he could instill fear in most students, mainly Hufflepuffs but most Gryffindors as well. This slip of a girl, however, had yet to flinch in fright at him. Maybe that she did so now simply reminded him of his inability to scare her before, and that was what caused the uncomfortable reaction.

Yes, that must be it.

"If you fear my reaction so much, Miss Granger," Snape drawled, "then maybe you should try to make your reply short and reduce it to the essential point. If your answer satisfies me, I will take it from there. If not – well, there are always cauldrons to be scrubbed, and we can try again next time. After all, this isn't your only evening of detention with me, is it?"

The girl flinched at the vicious smirk that crossed the Potions Master's face at this taunt. He could see her knit her brows together in thought, worrying her plump lower lip between her straight, white front teeth. Severus had to wrench his focus away from her mouth in order not to wonder what use one might put it to if so inclined – use that would have the benefit of shutting her up for a while.

She seemed to have come to a conclusion, as her spine straightened and her head lifted to meet his eyes once again.

"I wish to learn from you, sir," she finally said.

Severus was a little taken aback. Should that be the essence of what she was worried about?

"I believe that is why you are at Hogwarts, Miss Granger," he replied. "But as you mentioned this desire to learn from me, as you said, earlier today, I believe that is not all you intended to say. I suggest you elaborate, but please spare me with your earlier lies of new-found respect for my person."

The girl swallowed visibly. Severus was relieved when she took a few seconds to collect her thoughts, rather than throw herself into simply babbling out everything that came to her mind. He had enough of that already.

"I wish to learn how to protect myself and others from harm," she offered, still hesitant in her answer.

"Miss Granger," his voice dropped a few degrees more in temperature, "you are aware that this is the Potions classroom. Maybe you should go to your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and ask them about efficient protection."

The shudder that ran through her was very visible. Severus assumed it was a reaction to the combination of his cold voice, the cold dungeons, and the cold that crawled down almost everybody's spine when they thought about how the Ministry interfered with Hogwarts by putting a completely incompetent toad into the DADA post.

"Sir," the girl asked shyly, "with your permission I would like to elaborate my statement."

It seemed she had rediscovered some of her spine. Giving her a short nod, Severus allowed her to continue.

"I fear that what we learn in Defence Against the Dark Arts here at Hogwarts will not be enough to save us in this war, Professor," she started, still much uncertainty in her eyes. "While I will do my utmost to learn how to defend myself in combat, I am not confident or rather stupid enough to believe that I will never be subdued by the enemy."

She shot him a questioning look, as if to see whether his patience had run out. He fixed her with his cold stare, but did not interrupt. She seemed to take it as encouragement, and continued.

"I wish to learn how to protect myself and others, and any information I or they might have, in case I fall into the hands of the enemy. I understand that this is much to ask –"

Oh no, you don't even begin to understand, girl, Severus thought darkly.

"– but I believe that you are the only person who can sufficiently teach me in this, sir."

The room fell into silence once more. Severus wasn't entirely certain he had understood correctly what she was saying.

"You wish me to teach you how to withstand torture?"

Too afraid to answer verbally, as much darkness had slipped into his voice, she merely nodded.

"You have no idea what you are asking, Miss Granger," Snape threatened. "The Dark Lord's followers indulge in a vast variety of torture methods, and to explore them all, you lack time, stamina, and power. Everybody cracks under torture sooner or later."

"That's not true," the girl whispered, not meeting his eyes.

He knew who she was thinking about. Yes, Frank and Alice Longbottom were an excellent example for brave people who never gave up under torture, but crack they did. The healers working in St Mungo's Janus Thickey Ward for spell damage could attest to that.

"For obvious reasons," he said, "we could not test your endurance under torture to the extent of serious damage or death, Miss Granger, and those are the only two options to protect whatever you wish to protect."

The girl nodded sagely, her face cast downward.

"To help you gain a glimpse at possible understanding of what you are asking, I will name a few aspects of torture to you." Without batting an eye, he continued. "There is physical torture, obviously. Psychological torture, though many Death Eaters lack the patience and finesse for that. Torture of the mind takes a certain skill set that few attempt to learn, but when they do, they hone it to perfection. And, last but not least," his eyes skimmed her body before returning to her face once more, "there is sexual torture, preferably employed with young schoolgirls such as you, though not necessarily used exclusively for extracting information."

Severus paused for effect.

"Most men simply enjoy it."

Her eyes shot up at this. Yes, he had deliberately not reduced the lust for rape of young girls to Death Eaters only. It could happen anywhere, with anybody, and she needed to be aware of that.

When it became clear to Severus that he had successfully stunned the girl into silence, he dismissed her.

"I suggest you think about your request again, Miss Granger," he said, a sliver of compassion almost slipping into his voice, but he managed to fight it off at the last second. "If you are still convinced you wish to learn from me," he scoffed at this, "when you come back for your second detention on Thursday, you may ask again."

When the girl had left the classroom, Severus realized that he had never once said that he would deny her request.

Coming up: Chapter four, wherein a bargain is struck.