A/N: Alright, it's Wednesday! Time for chapter 2:)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; I'm just playing on J.K. Rowling's playground.
Hermione had left his class only minutes before it had happened. The corridor was already empty, thank Merlin, because DADA was the last class of the day. She was walking back to Gryffindor tower, but stopped abruptly. Her breathing sped, her head was swimming, and all she could see was him. She slumped against the wall and clamped her hands to her head.
"'Mione! Come upstairs. Now!"
Knowing she had no choice but to obey, she trudged up the stairs to her room where her father was waiting for her. Her sister had been dead for a few months, and her father had found that he liked the pain he caused by raping his remaining daughter almost every night. At first, it was just as a punishment, but soon began to occur whenever her father wanted her.
Upon reaching her room, she knew what she would see. Her father would have his pants undone, and he would have himself aroused already. When she entered, he would hit her before throwing her down on her bed, and then he would have his way with her.
The sight that greeted her entrance was no surprise; it was what she'd expected. As she walked farther into the room, he approached her. Grabbing her by her hair, he pulled her closer to him before bringing a fist to her gut, again and again and again. By the time he was done hitting her, she could barely breathe.
He pushed her backwards until her legs hit the bed, and it was all she could do to keep herself from falling. Her whole abdomen hurt, and it was only going to get worse from here. Her father yanked her shirt over her head and pulled her pants down before shoving her back into the mattress.
His eyes glazed over as he looked her up and down. Being eight years old, her chest was still flat, but he was undeterred. If anything, he took pleasure in the reminder that she was still a child.
Hermione closed her eyes, and he rammed into her. It was so incredibly painful, and she didn't think she'd ever get used to it. She saw red as he thrust into her hard, squeezing her shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. When he grunted and she was filled with his release, she allowed the silent tears to fall. Her father had pulled up his pants and left almost as soon as he was done, and she knew it was only to get a drink.
Dressing herself, Hermione's tears turned to quiet sobs, which she was trying to muffle in her pillow. She knew she shouldn't cry, but it hurt to breathe and it hurt to walk and she didn't know what else there was to do besides wallow in self-pity.
That was when she had felt the hand on her shoulder. She turned into whoever had come to save her from the monster that was her father, seeking comfort that would leave as soon as it came. As her breathing evened, she felt the calm ease into her, but then the panic crept back in.
He had heard her sobs. He was clomping back down the hall. He was coming back for her.
He opened the door and leered at her before coming in.
"What's the matter? You didn't like it? We could always do it again."
"No, no, please, no! I can't, not again!"
That was the wrong thing to say. Glaring, he marched up to her and grabbed her throat, tightening his grasp. The last thing she heard before falling unconscious was her father muttering that she should just shut up and fall asleep.
The rubber band helped that time. She'd had to snap it faster and harder than normal, but she usually did with this memory. After she calmed again, someone cleared their throat, and she realized she was clutching very hard to whoever-this-was. Pulling away, she looked up into the gaze of her formidable professor. She panicked briefly before feeling ashamed that someone had seen her in such a state.
But, even after apologizing and giving a partial explanation, he hadn't sent her away. He'd invited her to talk. She'd taken him up on it, only to have her glamour discovered. As he'd bandaged her arm, he'd been… tender. In that moment, seeing him in a way she was sure no student had been able to see him before, Hermione was absolutely certain (not that she hadn't been already; of all her professors, he was the one she looked up to the most) that she could trust him with her secret. It would be okay to tell somebody all of it, and he wouldn't judge her, or look at her with pity.
And he hadn't. Even as she cried, he only held her and said kind things, and then she'd fallen asleep.
"You're awake."
Hermione nodded as she stretched. Her sleep had been more restful than… ever before, as far as she could remember. She was usually plagued with nightmares, but she felt as if she had been at peace for the short while she'd been asleep.
"Thank you for helping me, Professor Snape. I…" she hesitated, trailing off.
"Out with it, Granger," her professor snarked, but without any of his usual malice.
"Well, sir, I'm not going to lie to you. I must admit I was a little surprised when it was you I was clutching to in the middle of an empty hallway."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Pleasantly surprised, of course." She said quickly. "I'm very grateful that you were there, sir; I know you didn't have to come."
"This is true. I thought about staying in here, but it was hard to mark papers with all the noise," he smirked. "But, you are welcome." He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. "May I ask you something?"
Hermione stiffened, but nodded. "Yes, of course, sir."
"How on earth have you been able to hide the panic attacks for so long?"
"For the minor ones, I could just step into an alcove until it subsided. The major ones, though, come out of nowhere. I don't get them very often, and until today, I've never gotten one outside of my bed, which has a Silencing Charm, or the bathroom."
"And Potter and Weasley never noticed a thing?"
"No, sir. I didn't want them to know, so they didn't. They still don't know anything."
"But why all of the secrecy?"
"I came here already at a disadvantage as a Muggle-born; I didn't need this adding to that. Can you imagine how much worse it would have been if people knew how much he did to me, to my family?"
"Yes, I can, actually."
Hermione looked up at him in surprise. She certainly hadn't expected that answer. His face was solemn, and his dark eyes were serious.
"Sir?"
He hesitated, as if he were unsure as to why he was telling her.
"I won't say anything, sir. It's the very least I can do."
Professor Snape nodded before speaking.
"Growing up, my home life wasn't particularly desirable, either. Like yours, my father was a drunk, and he also had a vile temper and a penchant for beatings. I will admit that I never had to endure much of what you did, but it wasn't pleasant. Things didn't improve when I came here; you've seen my memories. You know I was bullied."
Hermione gasped as her eyes began to fill with tears. "You mean y-you… you understand. Somebody finally understands. I mean, I know it's not quite the same, but it helps. Thank you."
She looked down and tried to get herself under control before looking back up at him. His eyes were on her, watching carefully. She realized that it hadn't been easy for him to open up to her and tell her something like that. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he felt the same.
"Miss Granger, if you don't mind my asking, why did you tell your story in third person?"
"Well, sir, I'm not really sure. Like I said before, I've never said a word about it to anybody; I suspect it was probably easier than using first person and reliving any more of it than absolutely necessary."
Severus nodded. The girl certainly shouldn't have to suffer any more than she already was. So, he decided a change in subject was in order.
"After your N.E.W.T.s, what do you plan to do?"
She looked surprised at the sudden change, and she took a moment to think about her answer.
"At some point, I think I would really like to teach, sir. But, before I do that, I need to decide what to teach."
"What would you prefer?"
This question brought a slight flush to the girl's cheeks.
"I feel like I would do adequately in Arithmancy, but I would much rather Master in Potions, really."
Severus couldn't help but be surprised. Yes, he knew she had always done well in his class, but she had done so in all of her classes. He hadn't ever thought about what subject she favored, and he never would have thought it would be one of his favorites as well.
"I'm sure you will make a decent Potioneer, Miss Granger," Severus told her half-honestly. If he told the complete truth, he would have to say she would be excellent in whatever field she entered.
"Thank you, sir; that's very kind of you to say."
Professor Snape had earned Hermione's utmost respect very early in her first year. Yes, he was dour, snarky, and often an outright bastard, but he was also the only teacher who had ever pushed her hard enough for her to better herself. She had grown in his class, and he deserved to be treated better than he was. As Harry and Ron had groused about and insulted him, she had always stuck up for him. It was because of him she wanted to specialize in Potions one day. He was still the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, but she was sure that she wanted to study under him; she'd known that since her third year. She desperately wanted an apprenticeship with him, but he almost never gave them. It would just be amazing to learn what he had to teach. Hermione knew that she was more than capable of whatever he threw at her.
Sitting before her now was her best chance at growing her mind. Her dour professor was the only Master for her. With this in mind, Hermione resolved to make him see her as who she really was, not just an insufferable know-it-all with a dark past. As she thought this, her heart sank. Wasn't that who she was? She'd done all she could to make it so, but now, she'd lost sight of herself, if she'd ever known to begin with. Sure, she was brilliant and kind, but she was damaged. She had been physically and emotionally battered, and there was no way he would want anything to do with her. He would never see her as beautiful.
Wait, what?
She'd always been attracted to her professor. His judgment had always mattered to her, and she hoped to earn his respect, and maybe even his trust. But never before had she wanted him to look at her in the way a man looks at a woman; as if she were the only thing in his universe. She would never have that, especially not now that he knew. To him, she was only a broken girl who needed to be fixed and sent on her way.
Hermione had so many scars, demons, and skeletons in her closet that she was sure she would never be able to be with anybody. Even if they could see past her beaten body, she wasn't sure she could let herself be happy. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been genuinely happy about anything, and the realization stung. She'd tried a few times to find somebody, but it hadn't worked out. Viktor had invited her back to the boat after the dance, and she had declined; in no way was she ready for that. She'd never kept in contact with him after that night. Things with Ron had turned out much the same way. He'd been so kind and they had been friends for years, but once they were together, she knew that they weren't compatible. All he wanted to talk about was Quidditch, and she couldn't care less about it. Even knowing that he'd become a professional player, she couldn't bring herself to be interested. He had lots of fangirls, and they were always throwing themselves at him. The few times she'd attended his games, he had made no attempt to fight them off. On top of his annoying attention-seeking, Ronald really wasn't much for intelligent conversation, and he'd always been trying to get into her knickers. She'd stayed with him for three months before finding out that he was cheating on her, which he'd claimed was only because she was such a prude.
She'd since wondered if she should have told him at least some of the truth, but she knew that she had made the right decision. If he couldn't even give her a chance without trying to force himself onto her, then she couldn't really trust him, anyway.
At least she still had Harry. He was busy with his Auror training, but they still talked often. They hadn't seen each other for a couple of months, and were looking forward to meeting at The Three Broomsticks next weekend. Ginny would be coming with him, which was great; she hadn't come back to school either, and was taking a year or two off before doing anything. Harry had told her that he was planning to propose soon, and Hermione couldn't be happier for her friends.
Neville was well. He was taking his N.E.W.T.s next summer so he could take an apprenticeship with Professor Sprout, and he was actually taking the time to study without Hermione's constant nagging. He was still seeing Luna, who was currently in Africa with her father, hunting for interesting creatures of all sorts.
She hadn't been to The Burrow since a little before the break-up, so she didn't see any of the other Weasleys very often. George was slowly putting himself back together with the support of his family, who were all still in shock after Fred's death. They needed each other, and Hermione didn't want to intrude.
Hermione realized that Professor Snape was talking to her again, and she made herself pay attention.
"Miss Granger, was there anything else you wished to discuss? It is nearly dinner time."
She worried her lip between her teeth for a moment, trying to decide if she should ask her pressing question. It was mid-November, and she needed to leave the castle on Wednesday. She would be gone all morning, and most of the afternoon, but didn't know how to ask. She'd managed every year, but she had lied about why she was leaving. Professor McGonagall had never asked questions; she was, until now, the only professor who had any idea about her home life- or lack thereof. All she knew was that Hermione had been living in an orphanage, and then on the streets. She was not aware that this was still the case.
But she could ask honestly this year. She could give the real reason for her departure. And the thought warmed her for some reason. Maybe she was just tired of hiding it from everyone. It felt incredible to be released from her burden, but she also felt very vulnerable. She didn't know what her professor would do with the information, but she'd gotten this far; she may as well take another plunge into uncertainty.
"Yes, sir, there's one more thing. I need to leave the castle on Wednesday, and I was wondering if you could grant me permission."
"Before I can do that, I need to know why."
Hermione knew this, but she was still a little nervous; she couldn't help stalling.
"It's the day I found her. It was her fifth birthday when she died. Every year, I've asked Professor McGonagall with the pretense that I would be leaving for Emmie's birthday, so it wasn't technically a lie. But, now that I don't have to lie, I've decided not to."
Professor Snape seemed to consider this for a moment before responding.
"Miss Granger, I understand your need to leave, and I… appreciate your feeling that you can be honest with me. I will grant you permission to leave, but on one condition. I will accompany you, if only to make sure you return safely."
She looked at him, debating, before nodding.
"Thank you, sir. I normally leave at about eight a.m."
"Then I will see you at eight a.m. in two days' time. Let us go to dinner now, Miss Granger. You look famished."
A/N II: I hope you guys like it! I would be grateful for any reviews; as I mentioned before, this is my first story, and would really appreciate feedback!