She pulled the shirt out of his slacks and finished unbuttoning it, gently sliding it off his shoulders. "Facilitate sanitatem" she muttered, bringing her hands together and directing her charm at them. While minor injuries could be healed directly through a wand, more serious breaks, especially those taking place around the vital organs, required the healer to direct her magic through her hands, guiding the bones and tissue into place. He winced slightly as she placed her hands on his ribs, concentrating on the feel of the bone beneath his skin, channeling her magic to knit the fractured material back together. His skin was as white as the shirt he had been wearing, displaying quite a few scars- some obviously years old, some more recent. She didn't know how he had managed to accumulate so many, but it wasn't playing quidditch. Proper magical healing prevented scars, unless the wounds were cursed. Then again, if his behavior now was anything to go by, she didn't think getting properly healed was high on his list of priorities.

"It was Cruciatus, wasn't it? That's what the nerve damage is from."

"Yes."

"How long?"

"I don't know. I never do."

"Isn't there a- a potion or something that can help with the side effects?" It was a stupid question- she already knew there wasn't anything specific to the Crutiatus. Nerve damage in general she could deal with, but the only thing that would be effective immediately was a warm shower and some soothing tea.

"I think you know the answer to that question, Miss Granger."

"Can- can I ask why?"

"It certainly wouldn't be the most intrusive thing you've done tonight."

"Did you do something to anger him?"

"The Dark Lord? No. However, he felt… he needed confirmation of my loyalty."

"So he tortured you?"

"Yes. There's no need to look so shocked; it's not as if it's a rare occurrence."

"I-I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Miss Granger."

Hermione looked at the Potions Master, hunched on his bed in nothing but his slacks, exhausted and shivering. At that moment, he looked more human than she'd ever seen him. She was seized by an unexplainable urge to tuck him in, but that was about as likely as Hagrid taking a desk job.

"You should get some sleep, sir."

"Perhaps. You should go, Miss Granger." For the first time that night, it wasn't filled with venom.

"Earth to Hermione?"

"Oh, sorry, Ron."

"No problem. Sickle for your thoughts?"

"Um, you know, the usual…"

Her thoughts couldn't be further from the usual- she had spent the last five minutes eyeing Snape as he sat picking at his breakfast at the staff table. She had expected him to look like death warmed over, but he was his usual self, which made her wonder just how used to this he was. They hadn't had any Potions lessons that day, and Hermione was thankful for it, because while Snape had certainly needed her help last night (well, technically it was that morning), she fully expected to be rewarded with detention the next time they crossed paths. She continued to mull over the subject as the walked back to Gryffindor tower. He had come back with broken ribs- and said Cruciatus wasn't a rare occurrence. Which all begged the question-

"Harry, remember when you said you'd seen Dumbledore's memory of testifying Professor Snape was no more a Death Eater than he was?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you have any idea why he switched sides?"

"No- Dumbledore only said he came over before Voldemort's fall and spied at 'great personal risk'."

Great personal risk, indeed.

"Where are all these questions coming from, anyway? You've always been the one to jump to defend Snape."

"I know, I know, I just-"

"Come on, Hermione." Chimed in Ron, looking up from surveying the list she had drafted of people they could invite to join their secret defense group. "You can tell us, we're the last people to judge you for doubting Snape."

"I don't doubt him- I want to tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone and not be mad."

"Okay.."

She told them all about finding Snape and healing his ribs. Silence overtook them as she finished, each lost in his own thoughts.

"That's awful." Ron was the first to speak. "It was good of you to help him, Hermione… but it doesn't excuse him being a right git to Harry."

"I wonder why he goes back every time if this is what happens to him, too," said Harry. "And why did he join in the first place? It's not like we know any other reformed Death Eaters…"

"I just…" she closed her eyes as a single tear made its way down her cheek. "he's going to go back. Lupin is doing who knows what… Snuffles is cooped up in a house he hates. And there's nothing we can do about it."

"That's not true, Hermione. Let's do this defense thing. I'll teach you. You're right- it's time I quit whining."

"Pssst, Neville!" It was Charms, and Hermione had been trying to get Neville's attention for the past five minutes. They had decided to call their little defense group "Dumbledore's Army", and had started recruiting. Rolling her eyes at his obliviousness, she reached forward from where seat behind him and grabbed his hand.

Unbidden, his life flashed before her eyes: his grandmother taking him to pick out Trevor, Dumbledore awarding him points for stopping them on their way to the Philosopher's Stone, visiting St. Mungo's, accepting what looked like a sweet wrapper from what must have been his mother…

She let go of his hand like it burned, and her head hit the desk in front of her.

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

"Oh, um, of course. I just wanted to ask you…"

When Hermione slid in between the boys at lunch, she had plenty of news they weren't expecting. For one, Neville had not only agreed to join, he'd supplied the perfect meeting place, too- the Room of Requirement. Second,
"It's happened."

"What d'you mean, it's happened?"

"I mean, Ronald, that that spell you cast on me worked."

Harry spat out a bit of pumpkin juice, and reached for a napkin as Ron stared at her wide-eyed. "Merlin's beard! I never thought it'd actually work… Well, can you control it now?"

"I don't know, I haven't tried yet."

"Who set it off?"

"Neville."

"You know what you have to do now, Hermione?" grinned Harry, thoroughly enjoying himself. "Ask Trelawney for help."

"Um, mate, it's about time we got to the meeting." Ron grinned as Harry and Hermione stared at him, eyes as wide as saucers. Ronald Weasley, reminding us of the time. Now this is magic.

The trio made their way to the seventh floor, where they were greeted by almost thirty students, wands at the ready.

"Um, hello." Managed Harry. "I wasn't expecting so many people… So, you all know our current Defense against the Dark Arts class isn't very, er, useful. And with Voldemort back, this is class we need more than anything. I'm not really good at this speech thing- let's get to work. The first spell we're going to learn is expelliarmus, used to disarm your opponent…"

A good two hours and buckets of sweat later, Harry finally decided to end the first meeting with a "Thank you all for coming!" before turning to Hermione. "You up for a trip to the North Tower?"

She scowled. "I'll manage fine on my own, thank you. Now go get some rest, Professor Potter."