A/N: Hello, hello everyone, and welcome to Chapter Sixteen of 'Accommodations'! Thank you for being patient with me as I set the update schedule to biweekly updates until the end of the year. This way, I hope I won't have to put this story on hiatus as December will be getting quite stressful. Stay with me on this, please.

As you will notice, we're moving at larger time intervals now - well, from time to time, at least. After this, the pace might slow down a little, but we're actually making progress, I promise. :) You might notice that we're getting closer to naming the price for Hermione's lections - perhaps you'll even be able to guess at what it will be after reading this chapter.

As always, I'd love to hear your opinions on my story, if you like; be it a lengthy review, a two-word-comment, or your favourite line, I'll take them all! If two week intervals between chapters are too much for you, feel free to join The Death Eater Express on Facebook where I'll be posting little sneak-peaks in between chapters, as well as chapter-individual aesthetics. ;) Hope you're having a lovely week and see you on 12/12!

Thursday, October 31st, 1995

Much as the schoolyear appeared to be progressing at a snail's pace, especially with Umbridge sniffing after every teacher under the deck mantle of her so-called inspections, as much did Hallowe'en surprise Severus as it did every year.

With the fourteen years that had passed since that one fateful night in Godric's Hollow, the pain had dulled a little, but the guilt remained and returned in full force on All Hallows' Eve, year after year. It always took him inhumane amounts of willpower to drag himself through this day of the year, and he cursed every time the date fell on a school day.

That it happened to be a Thursday that met the date this year was just his kind of luck, Severus thought darkly.

The past weeks with the girl had gone quite alright as she was progressing quite nicely in her grasp on Occlumency, as she continuously managed to lengthen her periods of Pure Black, and to intensify the blankness in and the protective borders around her mind while handling tasks in parallel that demanded her concentration. In fact, there was nothing he could actually complain about concerning her progress under his tutelage.

What bothered him were the effects the girl appeared to have on him. Today was the day her skirt would have reached the six-inch-mark of its shortening that Severus himself had demanded the girl perform on the offending piece of clothing, and he had found himself strangely entranced with the gradually increasing length of smooth leg that protruded underneath the shortening seam. The slight sheen visible around her calves had tipped Severus off to the fact that the girl must be wearing silken stockings underneath her skirt, and he had found himself anticipating the moment when her skirt would be short enough to allow him a generous glimpse of what he assumed to be lace tops.

At times like these, Severus longed to curse himself, for missing out on perusing the girl's stockings in more detail when he'd had her bent over his desk, her beautiful bum high in the air and his hands gripped tightly to it. At the time, however, that same bum had held too much of a fascination for him to dare drag his eyes away.

Of course, he thought, he could have easily slipped into the girl's mind to see her put on the stockings in the morning, or – and he had to suppress a groan at the image that his mind eagerly supplied – slide them off in the evening. But for some reason, Severus held back on that course of action. And much as he wished to deny what that reason was, a niggling voice readily reminded him that it was because he secretly yearned to remove the silk from the girl's legs himself.

Much of the same attraction held her now-silken tresses. Large parts of what were now called the girl's Remedial Potions lessons consisted of her performing some arduous task or other, trying to Occlude, while Severus attempted to intimidate her. More often than not was it frustratingly easy to send the girl into nervous jitters, but when he stood behind her, towering over her small figure and letting her feel his hot breath as a frightening breeze in the back of her neck, turning into cold shivers that ran all the way down her spine, Severus found himself intrigued with the curling locks that escaped her messy bun and fell into her neck. It took all of his willpower to not tug at the shorter strands at the nape of her neck, nor to bury his nose in her fragrant locks and breathe in the titillating scent that constantly emanated from her person.

And what a scent that was! What had before been the sweetness of a blooming hazel tree, tinged with the slight bitterness of slowly burning caramel, had turned into the dark green smell of pine trees waving in the wind, intermingling with a comforting hint of sandalwood, and the olfactory sensation transported him straight back into the bath she had taken in front of him, and to the memory of another day, of her knickers that the girl had said had been inspired by her memories of pine trees covered in the first fall of snow. Her scent haunted his dreams, and when the images that his sleeping mind readily procured would take him to the point at which he pulled the girl close to immerse himself in the pure, clean smell of her, he would wake to a raging hardness that only some more deliciously arousing memories of her could placate into a release that was immediately followed by a wracking guilt that he was unable to find any relief from.

So to face her, today of all days, when he could hardly breathe with the guilt weighing heavily on his chest at having betrayed the woman he had valued above all others, and subsequently face the guilt that he felt at betraying the girl by using her most intimate memories of her dressing every morning in order to allow himself some sliver of momentary physical release, was almost enough to send him back to his private chambers and lock himself in.

Almost.

As it was, he still had to honour the bargain he had struck with both of the madmen that called themselves his masters, and keep up the charade of teacher.

The lunch hour found Severus shoving his meal of mashed potatoes from one corner of his plate to another and back again. The feeling of dread that had settled in his stomach, together with the crushing guilt, had rid him fully of his appetite. He decidedly kept his gaze from the Gryffindor table where the girl would be jesting with the two dunderheads that swarmed around her like moths drawn to the flame, celebrating Hallowe'en as if Potters parents hadn't met their untimely end on this very date.

Potter.

Severus had hated Potter senior from the moment he met him, and his hatred of the name had only grown when sweet Lily Evans had chosen it as her own. The playwright had the truth of it; the lily by any other name did indeed still smell as sweet as she had under her maiden name, but for his dearest childhood friend to take the name of his worst tormenter had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

And now he was teaching said tormenter's spawn, strutting around the Castle as if he owned the place, hungrily feeding on the old man's lies that told him he was special, because his mother had given her life to protect him and because, by some chance, the ancient magic had worked and saved the toddler from the unforgiving green curse, only for the child to live and grow up to be a new tormenter in Severus's life.

Whenever the boy's eyes locked onto his, Severus felt the familiar pang of guilt reminding him that he had condemned and subsequently failed to save the woman that the brat had inherited his green eyes from. To see Lily every time he looked upon Potter was at times more than Severus felt he could take. Much as the boy channelled his father in everything he did, he often was the mirror image of his mother through his eyes alone.

Was that it? Severus wondered. Was this to be Lily's sole legacy – bestowing the haunting green of her eyes upon the boy she had died to protect? Most of her friends were dead, Black gone half insane during his imprisonment, and even though some of her teachers remained to remember her, her memory was as good as lost. When Severus died – for die he eventually would in this war, there was no doubt about that – there would be no one to carry her legacy.

Except…

Potter.

Little though the boy had known his mother, he still carried the striking resemblance to the formidable witch that Lily Evans had been through his memorable, green eyes. Lily had a living legacy in her son, living through the boy even when her spirit had left this mortal world. And maybe, Severus thought, that would have to be enough.

Noticing that he had stopped in his motions of pushing mashed pieces of potato around his plate, Severus abandoned his cutlery and gripped his goblet of wine instead. Usually he kept disgustingly sober when he had classes, but Hallowe'en was enough of a reason for him to abandon this strict, though self-imposed rule for one day. Lifting the silver cup to his lips, his eyes unwillingly found the Gryffindor table where Potter sat with his friends.

Perhaps, Severus pondered, a living legacy was not to be dismissed so easily. Granted, the boy was a bad example of that, as he channelled too much of James sodding Potter to have people remember his mother by his image, but the idea in general might perhaps hold some merit.

It wasn't that Severus feared death itself. No, his life had been far too miserable so far for him to believe that it might get any better after the war, and his chances of surviving the battles between Light and Dark that were certain to come were slim enough as they were. His being a double agent did little to improve those chances.

No, Severus did not fear death. In fact, he rather looked forward to slipping from this malevolent world that had granted him a rather merciless life. The only thing he might regret was seeing the death of all the potential that his mind held for achieving some kind of greatness.

Truly, Severus was quite proud of his academic success so far. True enough, being the only Potions Master of his level in Western Europe was a lonely business, but his mastery of the subject had gained him some remarkable renown, even crossing the borders of Europe as other Masters from all over the world, be it from South East Asia or the furthest Western hemisphere, wrote to him with queries that only his expertise could answer. To have managed to dominate his field of study at such a young age as he had, was another thing to be wildly proud of.

All those successes, all that potential, would go to waste with Severus's mortal body. There would be no one to remember him as he was now, in all his academic brilliance, and he would be forgotten to the world.

Maybe it was better this way.

The girl sat opposite Potter, laughing. Her back was towards Severus, but when the ginger dunderhead apparently managed to crack another joke, the girl threw her head back, her silken curls dancing with the motion, and Severus could see the joy twinkling in her eyes.

Or maybe, Severus thought, there was a better way.

Perhaps it was time to call in his favour.

October had gone by with a speed that had Hermione reeling when she thought too much about it. The first DA meeting had worked out a lot better than even she could have expected, and the weekly meetings since then had steadily improved. Harry had become more confident with every look Cho shot him, and with his growing confidence improved the overall mood and motivation of the whole group.

The only drawback that Hermione saw for herself was the fact that with Harry's growing paranoia towards Umbridge, now that they had gained permission to reform the Gryffindor Quidditch team, he became ever more reluctant to hand over his Invisibility Cloak to her once the DA meeting was over. Also, they had covered almost all the theory in their Astronomy lessons that was necessary for the lessons to progress to the practical parts, which would mean that Wednesday nights would be spent stargazing rather than bathing.

In some way, Hermione mused, could Occlumency compare to Astronomy. Both consisted, at a very crudely phrased base, staring into the blackness and trying to find something there. With Astronomy, it was knowledge about the universe. With Occlumency, it was Nothing with a capital N. So basically, she corrected herself, the main similarity between the two disciplines was also their main difference – astronomers were searching for something in the void, while Mind Mages were searching for the void in everything.

Hermione was pulled back into the conversation with the boys over lunch when Ron cracked a joke that had her actually laughing. Most of the time, the boys would talk about Quidditch and she would simply zone out and keep nodding at what she assumed to be socially acceptable intervals, but for once their joy had drawn her in, as well, and she laughed right along with them.

Hallowe'en could not have come at a better time, Hermione judged. With the tension that Umbridge's presence seemed to constantly spread, it was a desperately needed relief, and with the DA meetings going as well as they did, it offered a worthy opportunity for celebration.

Throwing her head back as she laughed, Hermione felt the long familiar sensation of being watched. This particular shiver running down her back told her that it was the Potions Master who had his eyes fixed on her. Really, she thought, by now she should have long become used to the professor watching her, but it caught her unprepared every single time. She wondered how that could be, but found that Professor Snape's gaze was nothing one would easily become used to, as expressive or devoid of emotion as it could be, and ever changing.

The Potions lesson after lunch had her on her toes. After the Ministry toad had finished inspecting Professor Snape's class, Hermione had dutifully gone back to her corner seat in the last row and had proceeded with her tasks that her teacher would set her. Usually, he would have her wait for him for a couple of minutes while he instructed the rest of the class in what they would be doing this period. Only when he was satisfied with the students scurrying into action would he stalk across the room to where Hermione was seated and would explain to her what task she had to complete. He always spoke in a hushed voice that appeared scathing to outsiders, always at a volume that was too low for possibly listening students to understand what exactly he was saying to her. Thus, they managed to keep up the façade of him punishing her, even when the advice he offered her was far more than any Slytherin student had ever received in Hermione's presence.

Today, however, Hermione walked to her desk only to find a cauldron and a note with the required stirring motions that usually the Potions Master would explain to her himself, if only to test her mental barriers as the two of them conversed. Looking up when she heard the door from his office swing open, Hermione watched as Professor Snape entered the class, bellowing instructions, and afterwards letting himself sink into the high-backed wooden chair behind his desk.

Hermione began to stir. Instead of dulling her concentration by seeking out the Pure Black, however, she focussed her gaze on her teacher. Narrowing her eyes, she came to the conclusion that even though he hid it well, as usual, Professor Snape appeared to be almost… skittish. And to have even some semblance of such an attribute put in any context with the dour and usually so controlled Potions Master deeply worried Hermione.

The period passed without her finding any reason for his changed state. Lingering behind after the class, she shooed the boys on as she pretended to stow away things she had not even needed, as everything required for her task during this lesson had been provided to her. When she eventually was the last student in class, Professor Snape's eyes snapped to hers.

"Still here, Miss Granger?" he sneered.

Hermione did her best to ignore the scathing tone in which the words had been directed at her, and jumped right to the point.

"Is something bothering you today, sir?"

Professor Snape levelled her with a stare that woke the urge in her to hide from his sight, freezing her to the bone with an intensity that had her shudder. Hermione, however, held his gaze with a boldness she did not feel.

"You were not in the bathroom last night," the Potions Master said.

The abrupt change in topic took her aback.

"No, I was not, sir," she answered. "I will no longer be bathing on Wednesdays, as I expect our practical Astronomy lessons to commence soon, and they will be taking place on Wednesday nights."

"What other night will you be using instead, then?"

"I have not decided yet, sir," Hermione answered his strange query.

"Thursdays, then," Professor Snape decided in her stead. "What time?"

Not quite believing her ears, and her mind still struggling to cope with the fact that she was indeed having this particular and highly peculiar conversation with her teacher, Hermione took a moment to speak. When she found that she had regained control over her tongue, along with the ability to use it, she had forgotten the question.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"The question was not difficult enough for our resident know-it-all to deserve a repetition, but after all that I've seen of the inside workings of your mind, Miss Granger, I understand that you often fail to grasp even the easiest of concepts, so listen closely," and at that he leaned in over his desk, still seated but somehow giving the impression that he was towering over her as he so often did during their private lessons. The next words were spat out with a vengeance Hermione had not encountered with him since he'd called her a liar at the beginning of the year. "What time will you be bathing on Thursday nights?"

"I –" Hermione hesitated, swallowed thickly, wet her lips with her tongue, and tried again. "I used to bath around two o'clock in the morning on Wednesdays, so I guess that time would be alright for Thursdays as well."

"We will talk then," Professor Snape said with a curt nod that Hermione only saw because in her confusion at this line of discussion, she'd forgotten to evade his gaze.

Not allowing herself to be dismissed so easily, Hermione asked one more question.

"How did you know, professor?" she queried. "How could you tell that I wasn't in the bathroom last night?"

The sneer that followed her question had her physically shrink back from where she stood in front of his desk.

"No wards," he pressed out from between gritted teeth, obviously discontent with her impudence. "And now hurry along to Arithmancy, Miss Granger. I will not excuse your tardiness to Professor Vector should you be late."

Friday, November 1st, 1995

Severus paced his office. At the wave of his hand, the Tempus charm showed the time to be well after midnight. Hallowe'en was officially over.

What unnerved him thus that he felt too agitated to sit and mark second year homework was his period of fifth year Gryffindor and Slytherin. He had done his best to avoid the girl, informing her of her task for the lesson by note rather than in person, but as she was wont to do, the girl had obviously been unable to resist the urge to get to the bottom of things and had sought him out after the period had ended.

Severus cursed the fact that with the weeks of closer contact between the two of them, forced upon him by the favour he had granted the girl in instructing her in defending the Light's secrets, she had obviously become more attuned to his emotions, reading the ever so slight cracks in the mask that was his public persona as if they were an open book. Though with studying under him in ways of controlling one's mind and, in order to do so, one's features, she had learned not only to mask but to de-mask as well, it seemed. Severus scoffed at his own stupidity, too brash to be called naiveté. After all, he should have known that when being taught the methods of their master, the student would learn how to dismantle them, too.

That the girl would be brave enough to confront him about his absence of mind, however, had surprised him. He had successfully evaded her question, he assumed, but insufferable know-it-all that she was, the girl would probably ask again. After all, he had informed her that they would talk more tonight.

Another Tempus showed the time to have progressed past one o'clock. Rather than pacing in his office, he thought, Severus might as well stroll the Castle instead.

Severus cursed that line of thought when, as he turned the corner into the desired corridor on the fifth floor, he happened upon a wizard clad in an eggplant-coloured velvet dressing gown with bold silver and gold swirls all over the rich fabric.

"Severus," the Headmaster greeted, "I didn't know you had patrol duty tonight. Has the roster changed?"

Severus forced himself to swallow back the groan that threatened to escape from the depths of his throat.

"Headmaster," he inclined his head in greeting. "I was equally unaware that it was your turn to patrol the Castle tonight."

"Oh, it isn't," the Headmaster countered merrily, as if neither of them was as perfectly aware as they both were that the other had no official business being there, "I simply find that when faced with a puzzle, it helps clear my mind to take a late night stroll through the Castle. The exercise invigorates the senses, and a change of scenery does wonders to find a different perspective, don't you think?"

"Indeed," Severus replied.

"Besides," the older wizard continued, "there is always something new to learn at Hogwarts. For example, a young witch has heavily warded herself into the prefects' bathroom, just down this corridor. It appears as though Miss Granger has taken to late night baths. Curious, isn't it?"

Not missing a beat, thus possibly betraying the fact that Severus had indeed known, and even advised, the girl to bathe past curfew, he reiterated, "Indeed, Headmaster."

Even in the darkness of the corridor, the older wizard's sparkling eyes were well visible. Severus almost desperately wished they weren't. They did nothing for his peace of mind.

"Peculiar girl, Miss Granger, isn't she?" the Headmaster mused. If he was deterred by Severus's curtness that was even more prominent this night than usual, he did not show it. "So astute in her observations, eager in her learning, loyal in her friendships, and ever so dutifully aiming to please. Do you not think so, Severus?"

Fear crept into his heart, cooling the already cold thing down to a degree at which Severus felt himself hard-pressed to suppress a physical shudder. Had he been too obvious in watching the girl during meals? Had she talked to anybody about their private meetings? Did the Headmaster know?

Unwilling to give anything away, in case the Headmaster was unaware of Severus's peculiar relation to the girl, he kept to his usual answer.

"Indeed, Headmaster."

"I wonder…"

The older man trailed off. Knowing him to be drawn to the dramatic, Severus rose to the bait, entertaining the man with his next question.

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"I wonder," he began anew, "if it might not do some of us a lot of good to see Miss Granger as a person beyond the school setting here at Hogwarts."

Severus felt an icy hand grip his heart and slowly squeeze. His lungs failed to draw air as they usually did, and it took his utmost to maintain the outward appearance as if nothing was amiss.

"How so, Headmaster?"

"Minerva already sees her as something of a niece, though admittedly, she sees many of her wards as her personal cubs. Rarely as I myself find the time to travel to London, I perceive her already as a fixture at number twelve. And I find myself wondering…"

The older wizard's eyes misted over a little as he stared into nothingness while he recollected his thoughts. This time, Severus made no move to prompt him into continuing.

"I wonder if Miss Granger is not mature enough to be a peer to other staff members, as well."

Severus kept his posture rigid, lest he stagger at the unnerving observations the Headmaster had just revealed to him. His mind reeled, trying to get to the bottom of the older wizard's meaning, but knowing the man, said bottom would quite certainly be a fake one, concealing many more hidden layers to his words.

"Perhaps," Severus cautiously spoke, "it would be best to have this conversation with Poppy and Irma instead."

The Headmaster's gaze refocused on him, and the sparkle dancing in his eyes seemed to scream his mirth at Severus's statement.

"Perhaps," he answered, "though I believe that there are others who might benefit from Miss Granger's company. Seeing as she is lonely herself more often than a young woman of her age and with her mind should be, I am certain she would welcome the companionship of someone mature as well, someone to challenge her intellectually, someone she might learn from. Such a union would prove equally beneficial to either party involved, I should think. Good night, Severus."

And as sudden as he had appeared, the Headmaster breezed around the corner and was gone.

"Good night, Headmaster," Severus found himself greeting thin air.

He stood for a few minutes, still attempting to grasp the straws that the older wizard had thrown in his direction, but they escaped his fingers and he found himself standing empty-handed, no closer to deciphering the Headmaster's meaning.

Even though several yards away at the opposite end of the corridor, it was the signature of the girl's wards stroking his skin and tingling over his body that shook Severus from his reverie. Throwing a look in the direction of the prefects' bathroom that might have almost been called wistful, had anybody been there to witness it, Severus said goodbye to his previous notion of conversing with the girl tonight. Instead, he turned on his heel and made his way down to the dungeons. The Headmaster had already found him in the vicinity of the girl, parted only by a corridor's length and a few wards. There was no use in being found in the same room with her, in as unclad a state as she would be in.

Severus had no way of knowing in what manner the Headmaster was always informed about everything going on in the Castle, merely that he did constantly seem to know, and Severus had little desire to play with fate tonight any more than he already had. The girl would have to wait. After all, they still had Remedial Potions on Mondays.

Coming up: Chapter seventeen, wherein a bath is shared.