A/N: Thank you to those who leave reviews; I don't have time to reply to everyone, but I do read them all and love hearing what you think. As you can see, the pace picks up quite a bit now. Keep the comments coming, and I hope you enjoy this.

A big thank you as always to my beta AdelaideArcher.

Chapter 6: Making Friends in Four Easy Steps

There are four simple rules for making friends with monsters:

1) Always approach the beast with caution. Do not show your fear, but never turn your back. Act with confidence, but do not show arrogance, as this may anger the beast.

"Good evening, Professor," I said brightly when he returned to his rooms after dinner, but he only glared sourly at me.

He sat himself gracefully on the couch opposite me, his arm draped over the side and his long legs crossed in front of him, looking at me as if I were some sort of annoying bug he desired to squash.

"How was your day, Professor?" I asked, trying to engage him in small talk. However, he still gave no answer, instead lazily waving his wand so a silver tea set appeared on the table in front of us. Well, at least he conjured two cups, I thought, looking at the two delicate bone china pieces next to the silver teapot.

I took it upon myself to pour us both some tea, determined not to let the way he was deliberately ignoring me get under my skin. Snapping at him again was no way to make friends.

"Milk or sugar?" I asked.

"Just milk," said Snape, and I smiled, thankful he hadn't gone completely mute. I poured a dash of milk into his tea, stirred it, and handed him the cup. He nodded at me as he took the white china cup from my hand, and then I put milk and a small teaspoon of sugar into my own cup before leaning back on the couch and taking a sip.

I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I simply looked at him, determined to study the man as best I could. I had the feeling he was doing the same to me, his black eyes flicking back and forth over mine as if we were playing a game of poker and he was trying to find my bluff.

He was a hard man to read. Though it was clear when he was displeased, his face gave away very little emotion other than the occasional scowl or sneer. His eyes were emotionless and blank, and I found myself wondering if he was using Occlumency just then. I tried to remember him from class as he swept between our rows of cauldrons, and recognised the same calculating stare, as if he was looking for a mistake to comment on.

His eyes then flicked from my face to the table, where I'd left the copy of Making Friends with Monsters I'd been reading earlier.

"Taken a sudden interest in Care of Magical Creatures, Miss Granger?" he asked with a sneer.

Withholding my urge to shoot him a catty comment, I merely shrugged, answering, "I thought it might be useful."

"I'll be sure to tell Hagrid tomorrow about his new apprentice," said Snape, and I realized he was likely trying to rile me up again. Honestly, could the man not simply relax?

"I'd much rather be your apprentice," I said, thinking a little flattery never hurt anyone.

"And what makes you think I'm in the position to take an apprentice?" said Snape, his face giving away nothing, though I noted with curiosity that he hadn't outright dismissed the idea.

"I didn't say you were," I answered coolly. "I was only stating my preference."

"Potions or Defense?" he asked.

"Potions," I said. "I've had enough Defense experience to last a lifetime."

"I'm sure Slughorn would accept an application," he said, another sneer gracing his lips. Ah, there it was, the rejection I'd been expecting.

"Perhaps," I said noncommittally. "Though I think you have more to offer."

Snape snorted disdainfully. "Your obvious attempts at flattery are so terribly Gryffindor," he drawled. "Did you read that in a book somewhere? Or did you actually think for yourself for once?"

Do not rise to his bait, I thought, gripping my tea cup a little harder. I took a sip, calming myself with the warm liquid.

"I may not be a Slytherin," I said, "but that doesn't mean I'm completely devoid of cunning."

"Miss Granger, you have the cunning of a mange-eaten, half-dead weasel," said Snape.

"I seem to remember Slytherin having at least one ferret," I said with a glint in my eyes, and for the briefest moments I swore the corners of Snape's lips rose into the slightest of smiles, before vanishing into his signature scowl.

2) Show the beast you mean well. Appeal to his desire for survival and prosperity. Provide him with a gift of something he desires.

Over the next few weeks, I fell into a simple routine. Snape was typically gone when I awoke each morning—surprising given I considered myself a morning person, usually waking up around six o'clock. I would bathe, eat, and then read for the rest of the morning until an elf-delivered lunch. After lunch I would practice Charms or Transfiguration for an hour so my spellcasting didn't suffer during my confinement, and then I would do an exercise routine I'd developed during the early part of my second week to stop myself going completely mad from restlessness.

I'd never been very sporty. Quidditch and riding broomsticks were certainly never my thing, and as a child I'd always been picked last for teams in PE. However, I found my new exercise regime energizing. First, I'd run up and down the stairs to the bathroom until I was thoroughly out of breath. Next, I would do a series of squats, push-ups, sit-ups, and lunges. Finally, I'd do some yoga stretches and poses I'd learned while on holidays in Bali with my parents.

After my fitness routine, I'd return to reading until dinner, which I ate in private once more. Professor Snape typically returned after that, and we would share a cup of tea and then read silently together until bedtime. I always went to bed first, for some reason—though I think Snape preferred it that way—and would fall asleep before he joined me in the bedroom.

What this routine meant was that I only really saw Snape for a few hours each day, but I could honestly not think of a way to see more of him, or what I might do if I had more time. At least this way we rarely argued, and I thought he might become more accepting of my presence in his private world. I was still trying to become his friend, after all; and after studying him for some time, I believed that I needed to allow him to take control of the pace of our relationship for the time being, and so I resolved to be patient.

At the end of my third week with Snape, however, I had an idea that I thought might nudge things along just a little. Tired of reading The Big Book of Spells, which contained mostly fluffy nonsense I thought Parvati might be interested in like how to change the colour of your hair or make your armpits smell like rose petals (I tried not to think about how Snape had ended up with a copy of it in his library), I'd spent most of the previous morning going through my beaded bag. I spread the contents on my cot, and was really quite impressed with how much I'd managed to stuff inside: a large stack of books, a pile of Ron and Harry's clothes, several clothes of my own that I thought had been lost, the tent and camping supplies, Phineas Nigellus Black's portrait, and several other odds and ends.

I took special care not to let Phineas's portrait see me or where I was by wrapping the portrait in Harry's dress robes, and then organised everything back inside the bag except for my clothes, a few of the books, and a small batch of potions bottles. It was the potions I planned to use to hopefully progress my friendship with Snape a little further.

I waited until Snape was comfortably seated with a cup of tea before attempting to engage him in conversation.

"Sir, may I ask you something?" I said.

"Will you cease bothering me afterwards if I say yes?" said Severus silkily.

"Can I ask why you have a copy of The Big Book of Spells?" I asked, motioning towards the book I'd left on the coffee table. "Most of what's inside seems rather simple and silly. I mean, I can't imagine you having a need for lilac toenails."

"Miss Granger, just because spells seem simple and silly, does not make them useless," said Snape with a sneer. "While I can't say I have a use for lilac toenails, knowing how to change one's appearance when needed is rather beneficial, don't you think?"

I wanted to smack myself in the forehead for being so dense. Snape was a Death Eater, an Order member, and a spy for two masters; of course, he'd have experienced times when he needed to look different. Especially since he did rather stand out in a crowd.

"Now I feel simple and silly," I admitted.

"I won't argue with you on that point," said Snape smoothly, though there wasn't his typical venom.

"Sir," I said, hoping now was a good time to give him the potions.

"I thought you said you would cease bothering me if I let you ask me your question?" said Snape, looking perturbed.

"I will, I promise, I just wanted to give you something first," I said, pulling the bottles from my pocket and putting them on the table in front of him.

"What are these, Miss Granger?" he asked, looking curiously at the little crystal vials.

"Essence of Dittany, Polyjuice Potion, Invigoration Draught, and Murtlap Essence," I explained. "I know they aren't much, but I thought they might be useful to you. I don't need them anymore, anyway."

I picked up The Big Book of Spells, intending to go back to reading, when Professor Snape spoke.

"Why do you have these?" he asked, his face passive as he looked at me.

"I had them in my bag, from when I was with Ron and Harry last year—or this year, I guess," I answered.

"And what, exactly, did you, Potter, and Weasley do last year—or this year," asked Snape, and I could tell he was trying not to look to eager to know the answer.

"All I can tell you is that we're doing something for Dumbledore," I said, remembering Dumbledore's warning before I left with the Time Turner.

"Dumbledore told you not to tell me about it, didn't he?" Snape glowered.

"Yes," I said. "He told us not to tell anyone."

Snape's eyes flashed for a moment and his fingers tightened on his teacup, but he said nothing in reply, his jaw working back and forth as he glared at me.

"I'm sorry, Professor," I said quietly. I wished I could tell him, really; he held our future in his hands, and I knew it would help bring us closer together, but I could not openly defy Dumbledore in case it really did interfere with our mission. "When this is over, when Voldemort's gone, I promise you'll be the first person I tell," I offered.

"You forget, Miss Granger, that I do not intend to survive this war," said Snape smoothly, and if it was possible, his eyes deepened to a colour blacker than night. "Go back to reading."

3) Expect setbacks. Sometimes, you will push too far. Do not give up if you wish to truly be friends with the beast. Reflect on your mistakes and try again, better for them.

I didn't realise quite how many meetings being Headmaster involved before I arrived in Snape's rooms. I often heard Snape speaking with staff and students in his office during the day to discuss school policies, curriculum, administration, staffing, events, and a whole host of other topics. Sometimes I wondered if Professor Snape preferred his new position, with its seemingly endless meetings, or if he would rather still be teaching down in the dungeons (not that he ever seemed to like that much).

I would always stop reading to listen to his meetings in case I could learn something important, but most often they were dreadfully dull, about things like budgets and ordering supplies and food, and they didn't keep my attention long.

However, early one morning I heard the door of his office slam open and the yell of my old Head of House, and I knew this would be a conversation worth listening to.

"How dare you let Alecto treat Ginny Weasley in that way!" roared Professor McGonagall, and I knew her eyes would be glaring daggers at the headmaster.

"Miss Weasley was caught speaking out against the Dark Lord, and so she was punished accordingly," said Snape dryly.

"If Dumbledore was here—"

"Dumbledore is dead," snapped Snape, interrupting her, "and while I am in charge of this school, Alecto and Amycus are in charge of punishments. A little fear will do the dunderheads some good."

"Traitor," spat McGonagall.

"Now Minerva, I don't think it's wise to speak to your headmaster that way if you wish to remain employed at this school," said Snape, and I could hear the anger rising in his voice.

"You will pay for this, Severus," hissed McGonagall, the sound of the door slamming behind her echoing into the chambers where I sat.

"I already have," muttered Snape to himself.

My heart clenched with sympathy, and I wondered how he believed he had paid already. By losing Lily? By becoming a spy? By holding onto secrets for Dumbledore? By cutting himself off from friendship or love when he accepted Dumbledore's wish to die at Snape's hand?

Perhaps it was all those things. I wished I could tell him it didn't need to be so hard, that he didn't need to be so alone, that I was here for him. But of course he didn't want me, he didn't see me as a friend yet. And I knew, in all his stubbornness, I could not force him to see me that way.

So I went back to my book and continued reading, and followed my routine until it was time for our after-dinner tea.

"What happened to Ginny Weasley?" I asked, hoping my question wasn't too forward, as I passed him his cup of tea.

"Ah, yes, I suppose you can hear everything from here, can't you?" said Snape with a sigh. "Sadly your friend has become rather… irritating. A Weasley tradition, I suppose."

"I know what they're doing, Ginny and the DA," I said. "I just wondered what happened specifically to Ginny."

"You know, do you? I suppose you'd be doing the same thing if you were here," said Snape.

"Except I would never be here, because I'm a Muggleborn," I said bitterly. "I'd be dead or rotting in Azkaban or something."

Before Snape could finish, I spoke my next thought. "How could you join them?" I asked honestly. "I know you're doing all you can now, and have been for a long time, but how could you join them in the beginning? How could you become a Death Eater? Didn't you know what Tom would become?"

Snape's eyes narrowed the longer I spoke, so that by the time I asked my last question, they were slits beneath his heavily creased brows.

"That," he hissed, "is none of your damn business."

Shit.

"I know, I'm sorry," I said, trying to backpedal from the perilous cliff I suddenly found myself perched precariously at the edge of. "I was just curious."

"Your curiosity is going to get you into a lot of trouble one day, Miss Granger," said Snape dangerously.

Shit!

Feeling the carefully laid truce of the past few weeks about to break apart, I decided it was time for a little Gryffindor forwardness and courage.

I put my teacup on the table and stood up. Snape smirked at me, likely thinking I was going to leave him and his temper alone, but his smirk quickly turned into a look of shock when I sat down next to him.

"I'm really sorry. I won't ask again. Your reasons for joining, what you did before, none of it matters," I said firmly, forcing myself to look him in the eyes so he would know I was being genuine. "I know you're doing all you can for us now, and I know what I say won't make any difference, but I want you to know I appreciate it, and so will everyone else once they find out."

I have no idea what came over me then, but I leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

As I pulled away, I became suddenly worried that I'd gone too far. There was the slightest bit of colour in his cheeks, and instead of yelling or hexing me like I expected, he turned his head away from me, so all I could see was a sheet of shiny raven-black hair.

"I think you should go back to your couch, Miss Granger," he said softly.

Without hesitation, I lifted myself from his side and sat down on the other couch, blushing a violent red.

You kissed Severus Snape on the cheek! What were you thinking?!

We read in silence for the rest of the evening, not daring to look at each other in the eyes.

4) Do not take trust for granted. The beast will show you when he trusts you. If you wish to proceed towards true friendship, show him your trust in return.

Somehow, kissing Snape on the cheek did not permanently damage our relationship. Thankfully, we both seemed determined to pretend it hadn't happened, and the next few days were as routine as the ones before it.

I didn't realise then that I'd managed to get him to trust me, but it became plainly obvious to me on a Saturday night.

I was already in bed, and Snape had been called away to deal with something. But I was a light sleeper—it happens when you spend a year on the run in mortal danger, I suppose—and so when the door to Snape's quarters slammed, I awoke.

I opened my eyes to slits, grasping my wand tightly beneath the covers. I could see a light on in the next room, a narrow yellow strip beneath the closed bedroom door, and could hear someone pacing back and forth on the wood floor, but I could not be sure it was Snape.

The pacing quickly stopped, and the door to the bedroom opened. Snape was silhouetted in the doorway for a moment, like some vampiric shadow, and then the light went out behind him. As my eyes adjusted to the low light, he strode forward, his shoes clicking on the floor, and in four long strides he was in front of his bed.

His back was facing me as he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his robes. As the black fabric fluttered to his feet, I had to stifle a gasp as his bare back was hit with the moonlight; it was a mess of scars, crisscrossed like a game of pick-up sticks over his back.

He bent over to pull off his socks, and I noticed his calves flex, showing wiry muscles beneath the skin. He crawled into bed beneath the sheets, not bothering to put a nightshirt on over his underwear, nor to close the curtains. His raven hair spraying out across the pillows, I watched his breath rise and fall beneath the covers as he fell asleep in front of me.

It was incredible to me, watching this powerful man undress and sleep across from me. He was normally so careful and controlled; previously, if I'd woken up as he'd come to bed, he'd gone into the other room to change into a nightshirt, and would sleep on his back with his hand on his wand. And yet tonight he'd shed his robes, showed me his scars, and slept naked and vulnerable with his back facing me. At that moment, he seemed so suddenly… human.

That was when I realised that he trusted me.

I didn't know if he did it on purpose. He may not have even known I was awake. But it was as plain as day to me that he trusted me.

I also realised that somehow, I needed to tell him I got the message. I needed to tell him I trusted him too.

I fell asleep that night not sure how I would do it, but a day later the answer was obvious.

The following night I made myself stay up far later than I normally did, long enough that Snape asked me if I was going to go to bed.

"I'm not tired for some reason," I said. "Please, go ahead. I won't disturb you."

Snape nodded and left the room, and I gave him 20 minutes to get settled before I put down my book, cleaned my teeth and face, and then made my way to the bedroom.

I shut the door a little louder than I would have normally just to be sure he would be awake. Being a spy, I had a feeling Snape was a light sleeper like myself. I was glad to see the curtains on his bed weren't drawn, and the room was filled with the soft, silvery light of the moon as it passed by the window.

I padded over to my cot, and stood in front of it so my back was fully exposed to his bed. I heard the slightest rustle of sheets, and smiled, believing he was watching me.

Taking a breath, I pulled my robes over my head and dropped them on the floor, so I was standing in only my bra and underwear. I unlatched my bra with a flick of my fingers behind me, and let it drop next to my robe.

I stood there for a moment, allowing Snape to see the long scar that ran from above my left buttock to my right shoulder blade, where Dolohov's curse had left its mark at the end of sixth year; I had a matching one across my front from the same curse, but I wasn't about to let Snape see that one.

The cold air of the room brought goose bumps up on my skin, but I lingered for a moment, letting my breath slow as I stood allowing myself to scrutinised by the man in bed behind me.

When I felt he'd seen enough, I slipped under the covers of my cot, pulling the blankets up over me and closing my eyes.

I hoped he'd seen. I hoped he understood my message.

I trust you, Severus Snape. Be my friend.