Author's Note: I'll keep this one relatively short, as this chapter turned out to be rather on the longer side again. I apologize, once more, profusely for the rather large delay in getting this out. And once more, most importantly: Thank you VERY MUCH to my devoted readers, old and new alike!
September 5th, 1976
As the seconds began dragging on, it started to dawn on Snape just what a terrible position he'd gotten himself into. He was standing there in the corridor. Alone. With a Gryffindor. An injured Gryffindor. One he'd just about sent to Madam Pomfrey himself the night before – in detention, in front of a Professor. And the worst part of it all: he'd just saved her. If anyone saw, if anyone found out, it'd be absolutely disastrous.
He needed to resolve the situation, and fast. From any normal student, he'd expect a degree of gratitude for what he'd just done – those brutes would have probably tore her up; he'd seen several times the end result of whatever student, usually a younger Gryffindor, who happened to earn their wrath for whatever perceived offense – but Hermione was a Gryffindor. For all their vaunted talk of "loyalty" and "honor", they had precious little of either to anyone outside their social clique. She'd probably still betray him in an instant, even now. And if someone walked by, a professor, a prefect, and saw him standing there next to an injured Hermione – well, they'd certainly probably take her word over his if she accused him. After all, who would believe the true telling of things here…? It seemed utterly ridiculous even to him, and he'd just done it…
And if anyone else saw, if the rumors spread… He shuddered to even think what would come of that.
Hermione was, arguably, equally unwell. She'd just been attacked out of the blue by two Slytherins essentially without provocation – beyond being a "mudblooded" Gryffindor she supposed, a bit sullenly. That, terrible as it was, kind of at least made sense… At least it fit into the paradigm she'd built up over the past six years. Slytherins hated Gryffindors. They fought each other. That all made sense. It was almost routine by now.
The part she didn't get, the part that made her potentially more nervous even than the other two Slytherins was what Severus Snape had just done. She'd been alone, basically helpless – at least outnumbered and they had the jump on her. She might have been able to fight back, maybe, but in any case, it wouldn't have been pleasant. And … for whatever bizarre reason, he'd saved her. The same person who just the night before had tried to use some bit of dark magic or another on her. There was no logic in it at all. And whatever faults she normally drew with Snape – well even, maybe especially, she had to admit, of all the professors she'd ever known, he did tend to be one of the more… logical. At least when it came towards achieving his own ends.
This… didn't make any sense. For a second or so she held back, her wand still out, figuring the only possible reason Severus would have to stop them would be in hopes of dealing with her himself. That kind of would make sense… He really did seem the type to want to settle vendettas personally… And when he showed up, he certainly seemed enraged.
But… that didn't happen either. At least, if that were his goal, he was doing a pitiful job of it. Ideally in that case he'd want to attack right away, while she was still more or less off-guard; not take time to counter his spells on the other two, try and excuse himself to them, the turn to her, give some nearly incoherent rambling 'justification' that almost led her to believe he himself was just as confused as she was.
'Forget it happened'? Was he serious? Like she was just supposed to ignore all that just had happened, the two other Slytherins attacking her unprovoked, Snape of all individuals stopping them. It was just too much, too absurd to possibly let go. She needed answers. And anyone with more intellect than a troll could see he hadn't given her them.
"No." Hermione said flatly, taking a few steps towards Snape deliberately. He in turn started walking backwards, but she was moving somewhat faster, until she was standing nearly in front of him. She wasn't going to let him just run away again. Certainly not after what had just happened. "I need answers. Now. Why did they attack me…?" she paused, actually in the grand scheme of things that question didn't seem as important. They'd acted fairly predictably after all. Snape was the aberration. "Why… did you stop them…?" she frowned heavily for a second, her eyes meeting his, trying to figure out what possibly was going on his head. He seemed absolutely volatile, unpredictable. Far more "chaotic" than his older self for certain. It was kind of unnerving really…
Honestly, Snape hadn't expected Hermione to take his botched justification at face value. Hell, he was still deeply suspicious of her own motives in "saving" him the other day, and all she'd done was ask the Marauders to stop. He'd… nearly murdered Mulciber right in front of her eyes and used a spell she probably didn't even know existed – well, hopefully Dumbledore didn't have that much intel at least – on Avery, his own Slytherins. In her eyes, without provocation from them. Sure it looked… extremely odd. Her suspicion made sense; he'd be at least as much if their positions were switched, he had to admit.
That didn't change the fact that – even if it was just effectively an unintended byproduct of a reflexive desire to kill Mulciber for saying the one damned word in the English language that could elicit such a response from him – he had saved her. She was supposed to show gratitude, shoot maybe a curt "thank you" at best, and just … leave. Forget it. Not put him through an interrogation. And she still wondered why he hated Gryffindors…
He bit his lip again, obviously uncomfortable, weighing his options. She was injured. If he wanted to, he could probably outrun her in her state quite easily. But that wouldn't solve anything. All she'd likely do then would be to run to a professor, report the incident – the whole school would know in a matter of hours. And probably if he deserted her like that, she'd just have all the more reason to name him as another one of the attackers. They certainly wouldn't believe his side of things. He hardly did.
He needed to contain the situation – and fast. "They…" he started off, still looking a bit flustered, his usual confidence a bit lacking. "They attacked you because they're idiots." He finally settled, genuine derision in his voice from the years of having to deal with their harebrained antics; none, however, had landed him quite this deeply into a conundrum. "Acting without thinking. Always rushing to violence." A rather accusing tone, deliberately ignoring the fact that less than twenty-four hours before, he himself had been just about to use a spell on her that would have caused far more harm than the two of them were likely capable of – indirectly the catalyst of this all.
"Honestly, by this point, pretty much everyone in Slytherin has reason to hate you. But… generally we're more intelligent about dealing with such things." He ended, a vaguely threatening tone, but not stating anything explicitly.
"As for my own… actions…" he looked down at his feet for a second. What the hell was he supposed to say? 'Oh yes, I just happen to be in love with Lily Evans who hates me because I called her a mudblood, so I wanted to murder Mulciber when he said the word, and that's why I saved you.' Yeah, that'd be bloody 'brilliant', wouldn't it…?
He had to say something though. He was painfully aware that each passing second brought with it a greater chance that someone might happen to discover them. He'd have to come up with something to satisfy her, and quickly.
"Well, why did you stop those idiots the other day…?" he shot suddenly, an almost accusing tone. But he sharply waved it off almost as soon as he said it. Almost as if he meant to pose it rhetorically from the start.
"Fine…" he sighed sharply in concession. "I suppose you're not an absolute idiot. Not as stupid as they were…" he sighed again, obviously uncomfortable saying even this. "Of course there's more to my … motivations than I initially let on. I'd… expect normally someone in your position to express gratitude, but since you're a Gryffindor, your reaction isn't surprising… Well, if you insist…" he frowned. "I'm willing to indulge your curiosity … a bit… If only to silence that abnormally large mouth of yours… Not here though…" he added quite quickly. It was too public, way too much risk of discovery. If… if it was inevitable that she was going to press this issue, and there was no feasible means of escape without making more trouble for himself; well, the only thing he could think to improve his lot was at least to escape any chance of discovery. "Room of Requirement." He added tersely, then suddenly realizing that, in the small chance that her story actually were true, that she was really an exchange student, she wouldn't know where, or likely even what that was… "Seventh Floor. If you want your answers so badly, you'll have to get them there… And, if you tell anyone of this; either what happened here, or my own … motivations, I'll find out. And… believe me when I say, you'll wish I hadn't intervened."
Hermione frowned. Snape was still acting quite erratically. What on earth was going on? It still wasn't making any real degree of logical sense. And a nagging part of the back of her mind wondered about his insistence on a change of venue. The Room of Requirement… That could be … anything… Was he leading her into a trap? Well, logically that wouldn't make sense. If his goal had been to harm her – which in itself would make sense – it would have been most prudent for him to have acted immediately. Not given her time to catch her guard, recover a bit. It seemed … pretty stupid on his part to throw away such a tactical advantage. Let alone the three on one numbers he could have had if that were truly his goal. Strange as it seemed, the logical conclusion was… he didn't want to harm her…? Or at the very least he had some other, superseding goal with interests conflicting with that immediately. Though what such a goal could be eluded her. Something about what he said to the other Slytherins though, about 'other reasons'. Well, in a way, it made her more nervous than if he'd just hexed her to begin with. At least she just could have dealt with that. A fight would have been over one way or another by now. She'd either be with Pomfrey or he would, the opposite party would probably have a detention, and that'd be the end of it. Now though, this lingering apprehension, that was infinitely worse.
"Fine." She finally added, a few moments of silence later. More or less, she needed answers. If it were a trap – well, if he was going to fight her, he was going to fight her. Here or in the Room of Requirement, it'd still be in a one on one duel. The odds would be the same either place. But, if she could only get her answers there, then fine. It was what it was.
"Good." Severus said curtly, then frowning as he looked her over. She had a prominent bruise on her forehead, already starting to turn a color. Her eyelid on the same side was swelling; there was a large bruise on her right arm. That… wouldn't do. If anyone saw her like that, questions would be asked. Questions he wouldn't want asked. Shaking his head a bit derisively at her, as if blaming her for getting hurt, being stupid enough to get attacked by the other two Slytherins and land him in this mess, he pointed his wand at her – instantly earning her apprehension and a wand in his own face.
"Relax" he sighed, shoving her hand away. "Just… going to use a healing spell before you bruise any worse. Can't have you looking like that…"
"Whatever…" Hermione muttered, still holding her wand vaguely in his direction in case he tried anything, but feeling slightly better after he murmured a few healing spells in her direction.
"There." Severus nodded, confident that her injuries were now much less noticeable. "Well enough to travel?" he inquired drily, really not giving a damn how she was so long as it was expedient to his ends.
"I'm Fine…" Hermione huffed, still quite wary of Snape.
"Good." Snape replied curtly. "Let's be on our way then. And… don't follow too closely now. I'd rather not anyone see us together…"
Hermione just nodded, not wanting to argue the point anymore. Besides, it was mutual.
Five minutes or so later, they'd both arrived in front of the entrance to the Room of Requirement. Snape had had Hermione following him at something close to half a flight of stairs behind him – close enough that she could still see him, know he wasn't attempting to flee the situation – which probably would have led to her informing the school authorities and only made things all the worse – but far enough behind that it wouldn't be obvious that they were travelling together. But finally they were at the top of the seventh flight of stairs, the wall concealing the entrance before them.
"Alright…" Snape started off, deciding it would be best to enter the room as expediently as possible – the longer they spent standing outside it, the greater chance they had of discovery. And this high up in the castle, this close to the Gryffindor dorms, that couldn't be good. "To enter the Room of Requirement, all one needs to do is walk past that wall three times, thinking the same thought continuously. Something even you're probably capable of…"
Hermione just nodded, thinking better of rising to his bait, telling him she already knew as much, and probably more about the Room than he did. But realistically, how could she account for such knowledge; he was suspicious enough of her as it stood without giving him further cause.
"Well, I was thinking the basic parameters to be along the lines of 'somewhere no one but Severus Snape and Hermione Granger can enter; somewhere where neither's magic can harm the other.' So we aren't disturbed by any unneeded 'visitors', and … can focus on our … discussion in relative peace of mind."
It was actually somewhat of a major relief to Hermione to hear Snape say as much. Sure his intentions in all this were still highly suspect, almost certainly far from pure. But he was as much as confirming that he didn't intend to cause her any physical harm. Not at present at least. Although it rationally followed already that if such had truly been his goal, he would have already done so, relatively precluding the possibility. "I agree." Hermione nodded slightly. "That seems… sensible." Feeling odd at the very sound of the words coming out of her mouth.
Without another word, Severus moved to pace back and forth along the wall thricely, Hermione starting a few paces behind him. And, momentarily later, the door revealed itself. Stepping inside they found a relatively small, somewhat dimly lit room, sort of reminiscent of a library. Shelves of books lined the wall on every side, aside from a modest fireplace at the far end; in the center of the room a small wooden table with a rather comfortable looking chair on either side. Almost like a personal study.
Snape couldn't help but find it slightly odd that the room turned out the way it had. Namely, the only specific details he'd outlined, that they'd have been sure to agree on was the allowance of only the two of them and protection from each other's spells. He'd said nothing outright about the décor or layout of the room. In the scheme of what he was trying to accomplish, such was essentially irrelevant. When it pertained to such, he merely relied on his own subconscious mind for the sort of environment he felt most comfortable in; somewhere quiet, peaceful, secluded, filled with books to expand his knowledge of the world. A sentiment he very much doubted a "typical Gryffindor" would share. So it was a bit odd the room seemed to have taken only his mind into account in constructing the room.
He shrugged the idea off though. It was just a mere trivial curiosity. He had much larger, more important matters at hand. The scheming "Slytherin" side of his brain had been hauled into overdrive the past dozen or so minutes since they'd started off from the corridor. The walk up the stairs had bought him a few precious minutes to think over how to respond to the queries that were certainly about to come; that he couldn't feasibly delay any longer.
Unfortunately, he still didn't have the best answers in mind. It really was one of those impossible conundrums in which case any possible choice led to failure. All that remained was to choose the path of least damage. With a curt nod, he motioned for Hermione to take a seat opposite from himself. If his impressions of the matter meant anything, they'd probably be there for a good while. They might as well get comfortable.
Inhaling sharply for a moment, Severus broke the silence. Attempting a rather confident tone – certainly far more so than he felt internally; but, this really was a game of appearances. The stronger he seemed to appear, the better. "A rather interesting position we're in, isn't it? Here in this room… I know what you are; I suspect you as well know what I am. It also follows that, since both of us are still here, neither has proof of the knowledge we each hold on the other."
Hermione's eyes shot with protest. The nerve of him. He was still on about accusing her of working for some nasty scheme of Dumbledore's or another. And… what was it she was supposed to "know" about him anyhow. His association with the Death Eaters? Until this point she'd really assumed that would have happened after graduation. They didn't normally recruit students. But since he was bringing it up in much the same tone…
"Oh, deny it all you want, but the evidence speaks for itself." Snape said, waving away her protests. "We both want answers from the other, or else we wouldn't be here. Even you can't deny that."
Well, that much followed, she guessed…
"So let's be fair about this. We're both, I suspect - as recent events in both our cases seem to prove – rather more intelligent than the more… brutish members of our respective Houses. As we both agreed in entering here, there's nothing to be gained in resorting to violence over this. Instead I propose an arena of the mind. A 'game' of sorts if you will… You ask me a question, I ask you a question. We both respond as honestly as the other party seemed to answer. It's only fair I think. If we didn't both have questions we wouldn't both be here."
"I think…" he continued quickly, not allowing Hermione a possible chance of cutting in, "It's best to do this in chronological order. So, I'll pose my question from earlier: Why did you stop those idiots from harassing me…?"
Hermione sighed heavily. Why was he bringing that up again? The answer was incredibly simple, she'd already given him it more or less there. And he didn't believe her then, certainly wouldn't now. Was he just using this as an excuse to avoid her question altogether. Well, unfortunately, he was right on one part at least. She did have a rather strong curiosity, desire to have her burning queries answered. So if it took answering this to get to that point, so be it. He couldn't feasibly delay any longer after this.
"I told you. I stopped them because what they were doing was wrong, and I couldn't stand for it. Even – no especially – from someone of my own House." She looked away for a second, before meeting his gaze, her eyes quite adamant, "Now, I'd like my own questions answered."
"Oh?" Severus frowned slightly. "A Gryffindor with a code of morals? How… absurd... Sure they have their vaunted virtues they claim, parade around thinking they're so much better than the rest of us. But when it comes to interactions with anyone outside their House… Well, you've seen as much I think…"
"Fair is fair though. So, I'll answer your question as honestly as you seemed to answer mine." It was… an uncomfortable thought, but he'd come up with something. Something less horrible than a complete telling of the truth at least. As the saying went, when falsehood failed, lie using the truth. There was enough, he thought, that was already common knowledge. Something Hermione herself probably knew as much already through those despicable Marauders and their lot, or if she hadn't surely would soon enough.
"I wasn't… always a Slytherin, you know…" He started off slowly, trying to mentally stabilize himself, keep his thoughts, emotions as neutral as possible. It was … incredibly hard, being so close to such a deep emotional wound, but if he was careful, he could probably pass it off. "I used to have a friend as a child, before all this. She got sorted into Gryffindor, and I Slytherin of course. And… partway through Second Year… when the two of us were still on good terms…" he sighed. "That idiot Mulciber attacked her. And used rather similar language to what said to you before. So, I overheard it, it flashed that memory, and I acted without much more thought than that."
It took Hermione a moment to even realize her mouth was ajar. Severus was – or had been at least – friends with a Gryffindor? A friendship between a Slytherin and Gryffindor in itself seemed implausible, absurd, but with him – downright impossible. He seemed … serious though. And, it'd be a rather stupid lie to tell; one that she could easily enough inquire into to confirm or deny later.
The part at the end was what really perplexed her though. Mulciber had used similar language… Well, she distinctly recalled him calling her a "mudblood" nearly immediately before Snape had intervened. Which was a rather horrid term; one describing only muggle-borns. Even Slytherin brutes like Mulciber probably were intelligent enough at least to use such a term 'properly'. And… of the sixth year Gryffindor girls – those who would meet the categories of being in Severus's year and sorted into Gryffindor, only two were muggleborn. Mary MacDonald and … Lily Evans.
Of the two, only Lily made any real sense. Well, on one level it really, really didn't… Harry's own mother, friends with… him? If anyone else had told her something so absurd, she'd be torn between laughing and slapping them. But it seemed much more probable than the only other choice, all things considered. And… he actually seemed serious about it. There was just something about his tone, the underlying tension in it. If he was lying, being deceptive in his overall narrative, such wasn't in that one point at least.
And… the more she thought about it, the more it made sense of certain earlier events she'd seen. Snape was good at potions obviously. And, if they'd been friends in the past, like he suggested – well, he'd probably helped her out with it? Even Slytherins helped their friends… maybe? And thus, Lily had seemed better at Potions than she was.
Since Snape had spoken in past tense, it was obvious that he no longer was Lily's friend. Something must have happened, the "terrible thing" Lupin referenced – which now made sense as hurting her on a deeper level than others; a supposed "friend" doing something to her… And because of that, it'd been really upsetting to Lily to see Snape praised for his work alongside another Gryffindor – not her. Reminding her that she and Snape weren't friends anymore, of what Snape had done to her.
Hermione was still somewhere between shock and indignation at her conclusion – Snape had been Harry's mother's friend and then turned on her, viciously. Not that it was exactly surprising coming from a Slytherin, particularly one as vindictive and petty as he seemed to be. But… there was another side to this matter, something that deeply confused her. If… he really had turned against Lily, disliked her now. Why would he have been motivated to attack fellow Slytherins, save her supposedly based off memories of having done similar in the past to protect Lily…? She'd seen the look in his eyes when he attacked them, a much deeper hatred than she'd normally attribute even to him. It had obviously been personal – against them at least. So it seemed, on some level at least, maybe he still held some tiny degree of devotion to the memory of their friendship? Maybe there actually still was a degree of humanity to him after all.
She wanted to ask specifically, inquire as to all that had occurred between them. This was all so new, so strange; information she'd never considered before. Her mind was racing a thousand miles a second trying to process the implications of it all, Snape's character, his loyalties, his choices. There were still way too many contradictions. He had to be lying on at least some points, but this information seemed valid…
"Lily…" was all that she could say, breathily. Halfway between a question and a statement.
"Yes, Lily…" Snape replied in a rather dry tone, trying to present it as simply a stoic matter of fact. "So, now that I've satisfied your curiosity there, I trust that that's the end of this?" His tone remained relatively flat, but there was a slight hint of a threat, not to speak of this to anyone. He hadn't really divulged any information that wouldn't have been common knowledge, but the incident itself – he didn't want others hearing of it. That was their deal; it remained to be seen if she would hold to it.
"So what happened?" Hermione asked, slightly regaining herself, ignoring Snape's earlier questions. "If you were friends with Lily Evans, I mean, why aren't you any longer?"
"That…" he said, rather tersely, "Is none of your concern. I'm sure those vermin in your House have already told you as much, so your transparent tactics won't work on me."
"They… didn't tell me everything." Hermione admitted, changing tactics slightly. Angering him wasn't going to help; but if she could arouse his sympathies, however slight, she might be able to get him to divulge more, bring some clarity to what seemed a very muddled image. "And… I'd like to hear your side of things. Get the full story before I make any lasting judgments." It might have been mostly faux sympathy, but she was genuine in wanting the information at least.
"Fine…" Snape snapped. "If you must know, the two of us parted ways due to her refusal to see reason, her inability to see her true interests for what they were, her preferences of the vile and inferior to the worthy. She turned on me, not the other way around. She, once my friend, turned out to be, in the end, just another typical Gryffindor. No real honor or loyalty for anyone outside their House, 'friend' or otherwise." The words stung acerbically coming out of his mouth, infinitely more painful internally.
Hermione couldn't say she was satisfied with the answer. He was still speaking in such vague terms. Sure, he was probably, technically right when he said it wasn't a matter of her rightful concern, but this involved a lot of affairs she was involved with, and… And he still insisted on deriding Gryffindor, even now, even when she'd tried to listen, even when he supposedly once had a 'friend' in the House. She couldn't help but feel rather exasperated, indignated by this point.
"And what exactly is so terrible about Gryffindor?" Hermione inquired, "A few of the others are kind of … out of line, I'll admit. But I stood up to them, didn't I? And you said you used to be friends with Lily. So, it's not like we're really all bad, are we? Whatever you say about us, even you have to admit, we're still a better lot than those two from earlier. And maybe if you weren't so hostile towards Gryffindor, you'd still be friends with Lily. I mean, I certainly couldn't be friends with someone who constantly treated my House like scum…"
"You don't get it do you?" Severus exclaimed, suddenly standing up. Once more, she'd clearly struck quite close to a nerve. This time with a bit more direct information. By now he was visibly exerting himself just to hold back tears that threatened to well up in his eyes. He sighed angrily, throwing his hand in a diagonal motion. He wasn't, he couldn't show weakness in front of a Gryffindor – particularly her…
"It's one thing when they would just ridicule me. Destroy my work. Steal my own spells and use them against me. Hide behind school rules and numbers to attack me off guard. They're cowards. Degenerates. And they'll get what's theirs in the end. I'll make sure of that much…" he ended darkly, a very personal fury burning in his eyes.
"All that I can rebuild, restore, move on, but…" the pained expression suddenly coming back to the forefront "They…" his eyes were glistening now despite all his efforts. He was wavering for a second on whether or not to go on, but it was too late. The levy of pain and sorrow were already spilling over. She'd already seen enough. He inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself, still visibly just millimeters from breaking down.
"The one real friend I ever had." The words just came pouring out now. "They took her. Poisoned her mind so deeply that she turned against me. Hates me so much she can't even look at me; won't even acknowledge my existence anymore. No matter what I do, how many times I begged for her to come back, that I still care about her, that I was sorry, she just hates me!" A hot tear was now trickling down either side of his face, but he didn't even notice.
He punched the surface of the table angrily, the pain radiating from his knuckles that forced him to reflexively grab it with his other hand unmatching the much greater mental anguish he was undergoing. "And it's all because of them! They destroyed the one thing in this worthless world that actually matters! And they don't even have the decency to keep word of their foul deeds to themselves. I can't even walk through the hallways, to class without them … purposefully… going out of their way… to remind me… Turn it into one of their stupid jokes… It's not even enough for them that I have to see her nearly every last day in class, knowing that there's nothing I can do to ever get her back… But they… everyone in this damned school has to mock me over it…" He clenched his fists, fingernails digging into his skin. "Including you…" he added sharply, accusingly.
"So yes, Hermione. Maybe somewhere between making Lily hate me so bad that she'll never forgive me and mocking me daily over it, I've lost respect for Gryffindor. Sorry. You're right… You're still so much better than us Slytherins. We're not worth the dirt under your feet. I deserve this just for being put in this damn House. Forgive me for thinking one of you actually had some humanity. That she cared. That she was my friend. That she wasn't like them, wouldn't do this… Guess I was pretty stupid after all, wasn't I? You win… Is that what you wanted to hear?" He sighed, sounding more exhausted, broken than even anger. Even hatred only worked so long as a shield.
He… collapsed, falling into the chair, setting his face against the surface of the table, his arms hanging limply. Forgetting for a moment that Hermione was even there. The worst, the most painful part of it all, the part that he couldn't even bring himself to say out loud, running through his mind. It hadn't been the Marauders' fault that he'd lost Lily. Not really. Sure they'd provoked it. Sure they'd exacerbated it. Sure without what they'd done that day, the opportunity would have never arisen, but…
He'd been the one to call Lily that horrible name. He was the one who betrayed her friendship and love, hurt her so terribly that she couldn't even bear to look at him anymore. As much as he hated the Marauders, fanaticized about destroying them, killing them; as much as all that, he hated himself more. Lily was beautiful, perfect. She deserved perfection in return. For years he'd striven to better himself, make himself somehow good enough to be worthy of her. She'd been the core motivation of everything. And he'd failed her, failed his one purpose in life. In itself, it was but one act, one transgression but it'd been an affront to her. He was flawed, fallen. He'd hurt her, and so he didn't deserve her – if he ever did.
The worst part of it all wasn't even her scorn, her hatred for him. Surely he deserved it. It was just… he'd hurt her. Lily was hurt and there was nothing in the universe he could do to help her. That was the most terrifying thought.
Hermione once again found herself lost in silence for a few moments, her lower lip actually quivering a bit. At first, when he'd started his tirade, she'd wanted to object, fight back, defend the honor of her House, but now… It was obviously real. She couldn't believe it, of any Slytherin really, but especially him. But it was real, it had to be. He still did care about Lily's friendship, wanted to restore it. And, the Marauders; they'd done something terrible to destroy it, drive the two of them apart.
She'd question why that'd be the case – but no, that followed perfectly. They really did seem, from what she'd observed, quite intent on causing suffering to Severus. They really were quite petty. So surely, if he'd been friends with Lily, someone in their same House. Of course she wouldn't put it past them to try to destroy that friendship, turn Lily against him. Just another one of their sick jokes.
It was… really a strange thought, but, she actually felt sorry for him. She could remember how awful it felt when Ron, someone she'd counted as one of her closest friends, had turned on her, gone out with Lavender, publicly, just to spite her. How the whole school seemed to be gossiping about it; she couldn't even privately wallow in despair because it kept on being brought up. Severus seemed to be in the same position, if even somewhat worse, in that active third parties were involved, purposefully sabotaging things between him and Lily.
Even if he was a Slytherin, no one should have to endure that. She couldn't help but feel a new pang of righteous fury burning her against the Marauders. The nerve of them! Remus especially, for going on about how Snape had 'hurt Lily'. And maybe there'd been some contrived circumstance where he had. But it was obvious; painfully bloody obvious that he still cared about her, wanted to be her friend. It wasn't him that was the stopping force.
Really, any way she looked at it, she wanted, needed to help him. She'd promised herself to help Lily out. Obviously this matter was causing her a great deal of distress, anguish. If somehow their friendship could be restored, it'd put Lily back in a better state, she was sure. And, even to a Slytherin, what the Marauders had done here was absolutely terrible. If Snape really had been friends with someone so kind, so good as Lily; obviously he hadn't always been truly the cold-hearted, 'evil' archetype she'd considered him in the past. There was humanity to him like anyone else. And those absolute… well, 'degenerates' really was a fitting term for what they were doing, were trying to take that from him. No wonder he hated Gryffindors so much.
Maybe, even, it sort of made sense of – if not absolutely justifying – why he went on to join the Dark Lord, or already had. Lily was, as he described his only 'real' friend; certainly his only good friend, as far as Hermione had observed. And lacking her influence in his life, with only a strong, personal hatred for four who would go on to be influential members of the First Order, she could see how he'd be drawn quite easily toward a faction that wanted to kill them. It probably wasn't the only draw for him, but certainly a compounding factor. Lacking that, and with Lily's friendship, her advice, he might well have gone the other way. And maybe, maybe it wasn't too late.
Any way she looked at it, she had an absolute duty to help him here if it was at all humanly possible. "I… I'm sorry…" Hermione said softly, a hand on his shoulders. A bit surprisingly, Snape didn't even angrily throw it off; he seemed so depressed, so hurt, he didn't even care. "I really didn't know. But…" she continued. "I'm in the same House, the same dorms as Lily. Maybe… I can talk to her. Tell her you still want to be friends. See if I can work it out for you?"
Snape lifted his head here. Any logic would point to it being an obvious ploy, some devious scheme or another on Hermione's part; playing off his obvious desire for Lily that he'd so stupidly let slip in front of her, to use against him as part of Dumbledore's foul plot. She didn't care about him and Lily; how could she possibly – she was one of them!
But, if there was even the faintest hope that she was partly telling the truth, the faintest hope that Hermione might actually talk to Lily, get her to listen, restore the friendship they once had. That would be worth … everything. If she was lying – which in all probability she was – no good would come of it. But in the tiny chance she was honest. Lily was worth enough to trust her, even if it was just a fool's hope.
"If…" he started off, still shaking a bit, trying to steady himself. "If you could do that for me… you'd have my eternal gratitude."