"Stupefy!"
Hermione's wand flew out of her hand for the fourth time in the span of five minutes, and she brushed her hair furiously behind her ears as if to rip it out.
"Just concentrate, Miss Granger," Snape drawled, fighting the smirk that threatened to turn the corners of his mouth. It was amusing; she grew ruddier by the second.
Hermione retrieved her wand and sent a binding jinx for his legs that blessedly hit its mark. "I am," she bit back.
It had been a week since Hermione's chilling admission, and Snape had only spent a day deliberating a course of action. He weighed the chances that he'd actually be able to stop her from seeking those wretched men against his desire to do just that.
When you can't beat them, join them, right?
And so he took her under his wing, determined to teach her every damned thing he knew. She would never be without a bodyguard if he had his way. And he thanked Merlin every day that the raw material he was given to work with happened to be the brightest mind and one of the fastest wands—thank you, Potter—in Hogwarts history.
That didn't change the fact that he'd been a Death Eater for over eighteen years and was a bloody skilled one at that. He'd managed to dodge, block, or reverberate nearly every spell she hurtled at him.
This only provoked Hermione's determination. What started as a friendly duel was quickly turning into a personal offense, and Hermione had no mercy. Snape finally unbound himself and flew a few stray hairs out of his eyes.
"Now you're getting it," he breathed, allowing her a smile.
Hermione straightened and smiled back, trying to calm her breathing. Her smile fell when Snape drew himself to full height, looking decidedly grimmer.
"I think it's time we battled Occlumency."
Hermione's heart sank like a ship with no bottom.
Snape saw her smile evaporate, and softened. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but I do think its importance should not be minimized. The more access they have to your mind, to your memories, the more they can torment you. And believe me when I say they will."
Her pride beat her fear, and she too stood to attention. "I'm ready when you are."
Snape nodded in appreciation. "Brace yourself. Legilimens."
He met the simplest of wards: a brick wall. He rolled his eyes internally and dismantled it, brick by brick. It gave him a bit of a fight towards the middle, but before long, it all came tumbling like books stacked far too high. Her memories evaded him; they shied away from the foreign presence, and it was only too obvious to Snape which memories were the most desperate to flee.
One by one, he siphoned through them. He saw a little girl with hair like toffee plaited down her back; she swung by herself on a play-set in a deserted yard.
He saw the same little girl, honey eyes brimming with joy, clutching a sheaf of parchment bedecked with emerald ink. He saw her hopping on a broomstick for the first time, and promptly falling off. He saw her older now, her hair falling in ringlets as she spun on the dance floor of what appeared to be a wedding reception.
And then she lay broken on bloodstained grass, her face contorted with torment and her shrieks pervading the air.
"No!"
Snape felt himself being ejected, forcefully, from her mind the instant she got her bearings. It was so forceful, in fact, that he fell back onto the stone floor.
He clambered back to his feet and his eyes sought hers. She lay huddled on the floor, hunched in a pain he realized he didn't fully understand. He wasn't sure he ever would, or could. Her hands clutched the sides of her head, her fingers curled around hunks of hair, and she rocked herself gently.
Snape could've kicked himself and mentally, he did. He thought she'd been ready.
He was by her side in an instant but merely the touch of his hand on her shoulder caused her to jump nearly out of her skin. He backed away and held his hands up, reassuring that he posed no threat. She lifted her head and caught sight of him, and instantly she shook her head.
"I'm sorry," she murmured and even as she spoke, she untangled her limbs and made to stand. He caught her elbow halfway up and assisted her. "I'm sorry, let's have another go."
Snape blanched and rounded on her. "Another go? You nearly had a mental break, I'll not be risking your health for this. I dare say that'd be counterproductive."
Hermione raked a hand through her hair and narrowed her eyes. "I can do it," she snapped. "Go again."
Snape gauged her face; he saw the determination in her eyes, the ferocity with which she clutched her wand, and steeled himself. "Once more," he agreed. "And Miss Granger, I do advise an object less obvious than a brick wall. I myself use a placid lake."
Hermione turned his suggestion over a few times and nodded. "A lake," she murmured, "I'll give it a go."
He nodded, and raised his wand. "If you're ready, then. Legilimens."
He was pleased with the detail she'd managed in the mere moments he gave her to prepare. It was shaky, but it was already sturdier than the brick wall. The lake's surface was rolling gently and that was due to the breeze he felt immediately. Detailed.
Snape prodded the lake, and met murky, muddy water, which he was able to wade through but which would be solid with merely a lesson or two more. But wade through he did, and her memories sank low, as though to bury themselves in the sand.
He coerced them out.
And they played for him. He saw the girl, probably eighteen now, in a Muggle vehicle of some kind. She drove the thing through a drive-in at some eatery and he watched as she paid for the order of the person behind her, asking only that they pay it forward one day. He watched as she doled out greeting cards during the holiday season to the elderly resigned to nursing homes because their families had more important obligations.
He watched as she barked at several miscreants who pointlessly tormented a homeless man on a street corner, and then bought the man and his dog lunch.
And then he watched as men took turns with her, and he watched her resign herself to it.
Snape tasted the panic that threatened to overwhelm the both of them, and retreated voluntarily. He didn't like a second of the acceptance he witnessed, even though he knew that it saved her.
He opened his eyes and watched as Hermione collapsed into a folding chair and let her head fall into her hands. He took the chair opposite her, and contemplated her fully for perhaps the first time. Recently, he had regarded her as a pitiful, unfortunate victim and an exceptionally bright student. Her milder memories, however, enlightened him to a side of her that he didn't know existed in mankind today. He beheld a benevolence which he'd previously reserved for saints and the like and it was a trait he thought was sure had died in Dumbledore's generation.
Snape had never before seen such a genuinely kind mind.
No matter how thoroughly he searched, he couldn't find a memory that spoke ill of anybody. Even those of her captors, though they existed, were far and few between. It struck him that if there were more people like her, perhaps the world would be a different place. Perhaps the war they'd been stuck in for the better half of her life wouldn't even exist.
The possibilities were endless.
Presently, she sighed and pulled him back to reality. "I guess I've got a lot to learn," she murmured.
Snape leaned forward. "On the contrary, Miss Granger, I was rather impressed by that last attempt. With another lesson or two, I daresay we'd get you to a passable level. By the time we're through, not a soul in this world will be able to penetrate your mind, I promise you that."
She smiled at that, and let her shoulders slacken. Then, she studied him. "May I ask you something?"
Snape inclined his head in the affirmative.
"When it's just these private sessions, would it be too much to ask for you to call me Hermione? I think, more than anything else, it'd be a time-saver. I'd say it's high time we got more comfortable with each other if we're truly going to accomplish what we wish."
Snape tasted the name on his tongue and nodded. "All right. Hermione it is. And in these lessons—and these lessons alone—I give you permission to call me Severus."
Hermione smiled and nodded in both acknowledgement and thanks.
And then a sweet moment was destroyed when Snape clutched his left forearm.
Beneath his sleeve, the Dark Mark stirred.
Author's Note: reviews make me update faster, hint hint.