AN: Thank you for all of your feedback, I really appreciate it. This will likely be a shorter fic (under 10 chapters) but I'm encouraged to explore this world a little more. This is a very dark time in Hogwart's history, but I believe it very interesting to explore how Snape and Neville could have coped with it. I do not anticipate extreme and gratuitous violence, and I intend to focus on their relationship growing. I intend to only rarely even venture out of Snape's office. That being said, please take the warnings seriously.
Snape chided himself and had to remind himself to be more careful with the boy. It would do him no good to have Longbottom figure out that he wasn't really as evil as he portrayed and then let that fact either slip to his friends or come out as the Dark Lord rifled through his mind. No, he would have to tread very carefully here. But how could he help the boy without blowing his cover? How could he train him?
As soon as the boy left his office, Snape sent for a house elf to anonymously deliver the potions that would make it so he could sit comfortably in class the next day. Severus remembered the agony of sitting in class on a freshly caned backside, and he had no wish to inflict that on the boy. Hopefully the Carrows would assume it was another case of the house elves spoiling the students, which they were always likely to do. And perhaps their interest would be diverted by then anyway.
The next day Snape watched Neville carefully at breakfast, saw his furtive looks at his compatriots and his sneaking of food out of the dining hall, for whom Snape could only assume were students hiding from the Carrows. Sighing, he realized that he had his work cut out for him, so to speak.
After breakfast, Snape rose with the unhurried aplomb he had cultivated over the years, and glided over to Neville's seat. He saw the Gryffindors, now somewhat reduced in number, getting more and more nervous as he approached, and as he settled behind Neville some of his classmates looked ready to faint in fear.
"Do you have the essay that I requested completed, Mr. Longbottom?" he asked in his patient but still mildly threatening voice.
"Yes, sir," Neville gulped, scrambling to get it. "It's just here."
"I will see if this is equal to your abysmal potions work," he said, scanning the parchment. "I see you have not improved."
"I'm sorry, sir."
"You will have detention with me at seven this evening, Mr. Longbottom," Snape told him smoothly. "Make sure you bring your wand." Snape intended to assign detention no matter the quality of Neville's work because he wanted to start his training, but this was truly abysmal work. Did the boy never think?
"Yes, sir," Neville replied neutrally, not raising his gaze to meet the headmaster's.
"And I believe you young Gryffindors have class," he told them, solidly playing into the pretense that Hogwarts was continuing as normal. "I would hate for any of you to be late."
"Yes, sir," they all mumbled in fear and packed up their things to go.
As he watched the young Gryffindors go, he reflected on what it had cost him to do what Dumbledore had asked him to do. His killing Dumbledore and then returning as Hogwart's headmaster and loyal to the Dark Lord had been difficult, but this living as if he were what he pretended was excruciating. It's not that he didn't mind making the Gryffindors scatter at the sight of him, but the reproachful looks from McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were more than he could bear sometimes. And now he found this silly, quivering Gryffindor who had held the record for melting the most cauldrons in potions was even more afraid of him. Not afraid of him as he was in his first years, but actually afraid that he was evil and might kill innocent students. He was not sure why this was so difficult for him to bear, but the downward look and show of subservience on Neville's face felt to be his undoing. Not for the first time, their son made him think of Alice and Frank. They had been so full of life, so full of hope in bringing about the Dark Lord's downfall . . .
"I'm here for my detention, headmaster," he heard Neville say quietly, causing Snape to look at the clock in his office. Indeed, it was seven in the evening, and he had worked through dinner. Again. Sighing, he knew he could get a house-elf to bring him up something later. He had to eat to keep up his strength, despite his having no desire to do so.
"Your essay was abysmal," Snape told Neville severely. "So you are here for punishment."
"Yes, sir," Neville answered, his eyes flicking to the desk he had bent over. "I guess it's the same as last time, then?"
"That will be your punishment when the Carrows bring you to me," Snape told him smoothly. "So if you wish to avoid the cane, avoid the Carrows. You will have a different punishment when I deem that you need it."
Neville seemed to freeze at this new information, his eyes filling with fear. He continued to look down, though he stole furtive glances at the headmaster to see what he would do. Without flourish, Snape pulled out his wand and pointed it at the now trembling teenager. Snape had to use firm occlumency at this further proof that the Carrows had been cursing students, and probably with the cruciatus.
"Are you familiar with the stinging curse?" he asked Neville with his softly threatening voice.
"Yes, sir," Neville answered, licking his lips. He appeared to be bracing himself, but with some relief. The stinging curse was not as bad as the cruciatus by far.
"Did you bring your wand?" Snape asked him in that same voice.
"I did," Neville answered, confused. "Um, did you want me to, um . . ."
"I want you to defend yourself," Snape told him. "See if you can block my spell."
Neville, looking even more confused, attempted a shielding spell as Snape sent the stinging hex directly at him. Neville blocked most of it, though a bit caught his right leg.
"Ouch!" he protested, rubbing the spot.
"Again, Mr. Longbottom," Snape told him, shooting another hex this time without waiting for Neville's shield first. Neville managed to block that one, but the next one caught him on the hand smartly.
"Ouch!" Neville complained again, but this time didn't drop his wand and warily watched Snape as the man circled him.
"Now tell me ten ways to protect a helpless ally," Snape insisted, sending another hex that was blocked.
"Sir?"
"Ten ways, Longbottom. And you had better do better than that abysmal essay."
"Distraction," Neville answered, looking flustered.
Snape sent another hex to the boy, grimacing as it met its mark and elicited a yelp. Could the boy not block decently? Snape was careful to send a mild hex, he didn't want to cripple the lad.
"How?"
"Creating a diversion," Neville answered. "Get their attention focused elsewhere."
"Good," Snape told him. "What else?"
"Get the attention on me," Neville answered. "Let them get away."
"Good," Snape told him. "Though it might be hard on you." As if to emphasize, he sent a harsh hex towards Neville's backside, which Neville was able to block barely.
"Look for help," Neville panted, feeling the strain of blocking. "Though that's pretty scarce here."
"Good," Snape told him. "What else?"
"Keep them out of the areas the Carrows go to begin with," Neville told him. "Pre-empt the problem."
"Excellent," Snape answered, moving his feet. "Keep your feet moving, Mr. Longbottom."
"Yes, sir," Neville answered, trying to imitate how Snape moved. "Um, a shielding charm."
"That's what you did before and what you're trying to improve upon," Snape told him, sending a harsher hex his way that caught him partially on the arm.
"Right," Neville grimaced. "I don't really know, sir."
"How about getting the vulnerably ally behind you?" Snape suggested, circling the boy. "Or perhaps teaching them a few defensive spells? How about placating your enemy, appearing helpless and innocent yourself and flattering their superiority? What about telling them what they want to hear?"
"I couldn't do that, sir," Neville gasped. "That would be . . . "
"Slytherin?" Snape asked with sarcasm.
Neville flushed, and nodded despite himself.
"There is a muggle saying, Mr. Longbottom, that discretion is the better part of valor," Snape told him, realizing he was very close to treason. "Being brave is not equal to being foolish. You will do nobody any good if you are killed over something foolish before you can do some good in the world."
"Are you . . . helping me headmaster?" Neville asked, confused.
"Of course not," Snape snapped. "How dare you suggest that? I am trying to keep the peace at the school and teach you to use your head. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Neville answered, not convinced.
"And I must always be constantly vigilant because whatever is in anybody's head is immediately subject to invasion," Snape continued. "Though the Carrows are clumsy at best with legilimency. Not many are as skilled at occlumency as I am, but the Dark Lord is."
Neville looked at the headmaster, and then seemed to understand something. "I'm sorry for my misbehavior, headmaster."
"As you should be," Snape told him. "But I think your punishment is concluded for now."
"Thank you, headmaster," Neville answered, rubbing a spot where a particularly painful hex had landed.
"I can see that you are a troublemaker, Longbottom," Snape told him. "I think you should not make too many plans for evenings, because I have a feeling you will be in detentions with me for quite a few of them."
"Yes, sir," Neville told him. "I hope to live up to your expectations."
"I as well," Snape answered. "You are dismissed."