A/N- Sorry for the wait, but between me and my beta, Christmas got the best of us. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy this chapter as it starts to look more into his past. Part of the 'go into details about Snape's history' part of the challenge…

Disclaimer- ::A miniature Snape inside a bottle appears and high-pitched shouting is heard from within:: Let me out of here! You don't own me! What is the bloody meaning of this? Return me at once! ::A red-haired figure runs off with the bottle, laughing maniacally as she does so. The bottle is labeled 'Property of J.K. Rowling.'::

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Chapter 15- More than Hate?

He softly moved his thumb over the text. Valkyrie Monroe- the thirteenth apprentice of Potions MasterDiggory McCarthy. The lesser known apprentice, and usually uncounted due to her current status, resides within St. Mungo's because of the permanent loss of her more intelligible faculties, the result of an unfortunate accident that occurred three years before she had completed her apprenticeship. She is also the mother of Constance Monroe, Master Diggory McCarthy's only daughter. After McCarthy's accidental self-poisoning, Constance Monroe refused all natural inheritances, leaving them to be claimed by the only other charge that he had. Severus Snape is the current owner of McCarthy's large estate and fortune as well as the numerous properties, items and potions that he owned. Many have accredited him to gaining his Mastery because of his higher abilities as a godling.

He sneered at that. Godling. What a bloody piece of work they made it out to be, as if the reason he had passed had been because of his ancestry instead of his own dubious plot. Yes, definitely a dubious plot considering it had taken him a full three years before he was able to pull it off. It was a difficult undertaking if it was taken into account that he had spent those three years while he was still attending Hogwarts. He had to focus on his academia, his work on his apprenticeship, his standing in the ranks of the Deatheaters as well as working on his plot to become a Master himself. He had known better than to believe that after all his hard work the man would simply sign his Mastery and let him go. No, not Diggory McCarthy, the man was too sadistic for that. All one had to do to confirm that was to look at the lovely Valkyrie Monroe and the way the woman moved and spoke at his every command. It had never been an 'accident' that had caused Valkyrie to act at all times like she had undergone the Imperious; he had learned that from his unwilling spy. So he had plotted and planned. He would gain his Mastery, and he would gain it from Diggory McCarthy, or he would die trying.

His plan had been successful, he gained his Mastery, Constance lived on one of the properties that he now owned, and Valkyrie Monroe lived in St. Mungo's being slightly more than a vegetable. Now, it was his turn to teach, and he would teach in the same fashion that he had been taught. Though he would teach the girl without all the 'attachments' involved. He was better than that. Wasn't he?

He frowned as he read over it again. Valkyrie Monroe, Valkyrie Monroe… She had been the one person that he had met in his life that he had pitied. McCarthy had complete control over the woman, she could not move, she could not speak without his say. She was the main reason that he had never taken an apprentice before Hermione Granger, the resident know-it-all of Hogwarts. People would whisper of Valkyrie, of the atrocities she endured, of the way the Ministry just overlooked it as if it were nothing. When they spoke of people losing their minds due to Potions apprenticeships, it was her that he would see in his mind's eye, for she was the one person that he knew that had literally lost her mind.

Something occurred to him suddenly, making his frown deepen. It was the realization that after the blood transfusion, he could control his apprentice as McCarthy had done, even if only for short intervals. He clenched one of his hands; he wouldn't allow it to progress any further. He wouldn't allow it to make her lose her mind. He simply couldn't…

An ache began to form within him, an ache that he could only describe as pain coming from his soul, if he in fact still had one. He choked on a sob that tried to force its way out and did as he always had done to keep the sudden pain at bay. He scooted his chair back against the wall, and pressed his arm firmly against the corner that was there. He moved it back and then swung it forward hard. Again, and again, and again.

The physical pain that ebbed out of his arm slowly replaced the metaphysical pain he suffered inside. He grit his teeth, pressing his arm more forcefully into the wood with every satisfying blow. It was numbing, the pain, a pain that he oddly, in some demented way, missed ever since Riddle was finally defeated. The pain… thwack… brought focus… thwack… relieved unwanted emotions… thwack… would clear the mind, rejuvenate the soul, and bring him a false sense of peace within his tormented soul thwack… It meant that he was still alive when he should not be…

The pain would make him forget that he worried too much about his apprentice… He brought his arm back for a final time and swung it at the corner as hard as he possibly could. CRACK. He hissed in pain as the grotesque sound echoed through his quarters. A sudden stomach churning spasm of near pleasure passed briefly through his body before the more annoying throbbing took over. He looked down at his now limp arm, smirking. Another broken bone to add to the many other, uncounted ones…

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It hadn't taken her long to clean up her mess. He hadn't, after all, forbidden her to use magic in order to clean it. The moment she was done she returned to her quarters, bringing the book she had just found with her.

The text never went into complete details about the fates of the many people within its pages, but was far clearer on the facts, the underlying secrets, than the other book had been. Briefly she wondered why the two were so substantially different, despite the fact that they held the same basic reference material. She shook her head over that thought and continued to read. She read of deaths, loss of miscellaneous appendages, accidents with sometimes disturbing results, and odd ways out of contracts. That made her wonder if her own contract had some sort of 'price' as was mentioned in most of the others. Some had been blood, a keepsake, as simple as a lock of hair, or as complicated as being forced to have… 'relations'… with one's Master. She blushed at the thought of it, idly wondering if her contract had such complicated means of escape. If it had, Snape had implied the breaking of it, which would mean…

She cleared her throat. One simple, annoying month in the man's presence and she was starting to act like a love struck imbecile. Not that she was, considering she hated him resolutely. Didn't she? He was revolting, rude and -contrary to what she had thought before- was completely horrible, especially to her. And he had been, every day; every blasted, bloody damned day. So here she was, against all reason, all rationality, thinking about him… and her… It had been an indirect thing, but as she began to think on it, the more she wanted to know if she were right, and that thought forced her to think about it more, making images appear within her head that no sane person should honestly think of regarding the impossible git. She was beginning to think of him as… As a man…

It had seemed so simple, so wrong… but so extremely complex. As if she had somehow broken some strange law of nature. But strangely it seemed right… Thinking of him as human, it made her feel as if he might be weak somehow. Maybe not as horrible deep down, well maybe just as horriblebut perhaps he had a soul. Perhaps he cared for something, or someone… Just perhaps…

She sighed and continued to read, half skimming it over as she continued on; until she read a name that forced her thoughts back to what she had been doing. Duncan Weasley. The last serving apprentice to Charles M. Massing, Duncan J. Weasley is most famed for his bout of insanity. Most claim that he is still unstable, though a select few believe that he should be released from confinement. Others agree that his crimes against-

Her eyes went wide. NO! No, no, no, no, no! What sort of sick joke was this? She looked at the bottom of the page where she had left off, and to the top of the next page, which spoke something of Diggory McCarthy in closing statements. The pages jumped from 677 to 685. There were exactly three whole pages missing. And it seemed that those three pages contained everything that she desired to learn from this book. In a sudden fit of rage, she tossed it across the room, falling down to her bed, burying her head into her mattress, and screamed, or at least a breathy facsimile of it considering the bastard still hadn't let her have her voice back yet. Bastard, she reasoned, was a far better thing to think of him at the moment. She sighed, sitting up on her bed. The moment she got her voice back, she was going to scream. Not in her bed, not in the privacy of her rooms, but at him. Not intelligible words of precise hatred, but just a plain, animalistic scream. Yes… That would be wonderful. Who cared if he took away her voice for the remaining three plus years after she was done with it anyway? At least she would have the ability to see what he looked like when he was surprised…

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The next day she had met him in his personal lab, and once again attempted to brew the potion. This time, he did not leave. No, he would not leave; he would not go through with his initial plans and would instead go about it in the same fashions that would be of normal circumstances.

Snape seated himself behind the girl, retrieved a book from a drawer underneath the table and proceeded to read. It was odd, how he liked to read muggle books. In fact, he liked many things muggle to the point it was almost an obsession. An obsession that was more than likely close in comparison to that of Weasley himself, not that he would ever admit it. Especially since he desired the finer things of the muggle world. Paintings, literature and the new thing he had discovered called 'theatre'. And not the traditional kind either, some strange newfangled thing that was on a very big screen with a hundred or so people that surrounded it. He had wondered how it had worked, so he was reading about it.

He had disguised the book as 'The Anthology of Potions-1597' simply for the fact that had Hermione known that he was actually reading 'Behind the Scenes of Cinematography' she would have burst out laughing, and he would have lost any respect the girl might actually still hold onto for him. Not that he expected it after everything that had happened in the last month… But still, it was the thought.

When she had been in the room working for nearly an hour, he looked up from his book and began to watch her. It was almost time… Just as he suspected she was at the point of adding the drop of blood and the one-ounce of Doncerian Hippogriff Bile. Good, he would not have to wait long. He watched through his hair as she stirred the potion five times, and then sat back to watch it. He smirked. If there had been anything about the girl that he learned while she was in his tutelage for the past seven years, was the fact that the girl was easily startled. He timed it perfectly, three and one fourth minutes before he barked it out, just before she added in the mandrake root. "MISS GRANGER!"

She jumped, dropping the measurement to the floor, turning to him in both anger and confusion, seeing as she had her brows pursed together but her lips set into a thin hard line. Odd how the girl had the ability to show multiple emotions on her face…

Bloody hell. There was something wrong with him. Just because he had protected her before, just because she was now his apprentice, did not mean that he needed to study the blasted chit. At least the girl couldn't yell at him. Yet. He was almost positive she would someday, as he remembered the multiple times that she blew up at her friends. He would never let anyone know how much those scenes amused him. Seeing Potter recoil at her every word…

He picked up his book again and pretended to continue reading as he spoke to her. He hadn't spoken harshly; he simply wasn't in the mood for it. He looked down at his broken arm, seeing the potion-created cast that he had placed on it the night before, wincing. No, definitely not in the mood to be harsh… "Miss Granger, I believe you have just ruined your potion. I would suggest cleaning it up in five minutes, no sooner. I desire two-feet of parchment on the results of not adding in Mandrake Root when it is needed, due tomorrow morning after breakfast, when you start your potion again." As soon as his speech was over, he looked up at her, quirked his brow to see if she would protest somehow, and then continued to read, this time for real.

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A/N- Chapter sixteen should be out shortly, it has already been sent to my beta. As always, I hope that you have enjoyed this chapter and please review. It never fails to inspire.