A/N:

Trigger warning for mildly-graphic descriptions of blood and injuries.

Hermione stared up at the hangings surrounding her four-poster bed, picking at a thumbnail and feeling oddly like the world had begun to spin in the opposite direction. Despite the sleep that made her eyelids heavy, her thoughts were continually dragged back to the alcove and her conversation with Snape.

In all her time at Hogwarts, she had witnessed angry Snape and indifferent Snape; deathly calm Snape and cool Snape. She had the pleasure of watching his eyes light up when discussing advanced magic and had felt the terror of his rage. She admired his intelligence and the way he commanded a room with barely more than a soft-spoken word. Even when he refused to share information with her, she never doubted for a moment that he had a plan; he was always six steps ahead of the rest of the population. Admittedly she had latched on to him like an anchor in a storm. He was entirely unshakeable.

But the Snape she had met in the shadows appeared nothing like her menacing professor. Despite the evening light, it was as though he had stepped into the sun for the first time and given her a glimpse of the man underneath the layers of heavy cotton and wool. He had been dishevelled and wavering, and a little awkward in his actions, like the hand he sometimes ran through his hair it brought him down to earth and reminded her that he was only a normal, mortal man instead of the dangerous god she had carefully crafted him into during their months apart.

Truthfully she had surprised herself when she had agreed to meet him. She had forgiven him instantly, of course, for laying the Cruciatus Curse on her. The pain was unlike anything she had ever felt, including the aftermath of Dolohov's curse. For a brief second it had felt as though every cell on her body was rebelling against her, suddenly set ablaze by the man she had trusted most. How much pain and anger must he have been carrying to be able to burn a person from within like that?

Though she had forgiven him, the pain had helped bring clarity to their dire situation. The war which they had been preparing for and discussing for months if not years, was finally upon them. Up until that moment she had lied to herself, pretending that although Voldemort had succeeded in murdering Dumbledore and overthrowing the government there was still somehow a chance for goodness in the world. The brilliant moment of pain that Snape provided allowed for enough clarity that Hermione could see that although she prided herself in being clever and loyal she was never anything more than a pawn.

She had been an idiot in thinking that because Snape had taken her under his wing and trained her that she was somehow of value to him. Which wasn't entirely untrue: she had been valuable by Harry's side. At Hogwarts she was nothing more than cannon fodder, which was a bitter pill to swallow but one she needed to face. Which was why when Snape had cornered her in the classroom and demanded answers, she found she had none to give him. She needed to move on and make the best of a bad situation.

Then Hermione had returned to her dorm room one night to find a broken copy of Advanced Potion-Making sitting on her bedside table as though it had never left, a piece of parchment tucked inside.

Would you still send the wolf to slaughter if he never intended to harm the lamb?

Tuesday, 22.00, alcove by the statue of Glinda the Banished.

Going to him would be against her better judgement. She had begun the grieving process of accepting her place and didn't want to allow in any false hope. But if there was one thing that she had learned about Snape was that there were never any coincidences and he never did anything without reason. The return of his copy of Advanced Potion -Making back into her possession meant something.

He was apologising.

So like the stupid little lamb she was, she sought him out on the sixth floor by the Astronomy Tower, only to find a man broken with grief and remorse waiting in his place. And when he asked her to stay, how could she ever say anything but yes?

At some point through the night, rain began to lash against the window. It mirrored the conflicting emotions inside her. She sank further under her duvet, a pair of dark eyes and a calloused thumb drawing circles against her wrist keeping her company throughout fitful sleep.

When she finally woke in the morning she found a small square of parchment laying next to her pillow.

Tomorrow 21.00 dungeons.

The sight of the spikey handwriting kicked up a storm of butterflies. The evening had been a fever dream. The thought of facing Snape now in the daylight was terrifying. How should she act? What would she say? More importantly, how would he act? What kind of Snape would she find in his dungeon office? Would he be the sturdy mentor she had grown fond of, asking probing questions and demanding her opinion, or would he be the cold, callus Headmaster? Or, what was more, would she find the Snape from the alcove, who touched the skin of her twist and quietly asked for her.

She decided that Snape might be the worst. Despite the fact that gaining his confidence was the one thing she had been hoping for all along, his reaction was the one thing that set her nerves on fire. She wasn't sure she could handle it.

'Have I hit my head, or is Hermione Granger only just joining us for breakfast?' Ginny asked, a morsel of poached egg halfway to her mouth as Hermione finally made her way down to the Great Hall.

Hermione blushed and sat down next to Neville, busying herself with fixing a pot of tea. 'Hush. Last time I checked, this is still breakfast time, is it not?'

'Yes but normally you've already finished before I even get down here.' She put her fork down and leant across the table to place a hand on Hermione's forehead. 'You don't feel feverish.'

'Dunno, dragon pox always appears a little late,' Neville commented. 'Have you checked her elbows?'

Hermione and Ginny exchanged a look.

'You don't check for– Neville. Did you just make a joke?' Ginny gasped.

Neville's cheeks flamed bright red.

'Am I not allowed to have a lie in?' Hermione asked, her eyebrow raised in challenge.

Ginny opened her mouth, her brow slowly furrowing. 'Somethings different.'

Hermione sniffed and began to spoon porridge into a bowl. 'In what way?'

'I can't quite tell. You're just… different,' Ginny stated, resting her chin in her hand. 'Since we got caught, you've been pretty skittish. But this morning you're more you. Like old Hermione.'

'I'm the same Hermione I've always been,' Hermione said, feeling suddenly quite self-aware. She began to put blueberries and raspberries into her porridge, adding them one by one in an effort to avoid Ginny's gaze. 'I suppose though, come to think about it, I do feel more like myself.'

Ginny tapped her fork against her bottom lip. 'Well, whatever has changed, I'm glad. Not that you aren't entitled to feel under the weather, all things considered,' she added hastily.

Hermione sipped her tea, letting Neville and Ginny discuss the latest assignments McGonagall had given them. Normally such conversation would bother her, but instead, she found her gaze drifting toward the High Table, where a certain scowling Headmaster sat where Dumbledore once resided.

His expression was bored and disinterested, and as he lifted his teacup to his lips their eyes met over the sea of heads. It was minor, but she saw his expression change slightly - a smoothening of the wrinkles across his forehead. The roaring waves in her stomach gave her an odd feeling of sea sickness and she placed a hand on her chest to steady herself. It had been weeks since she had felt ill. The movement caused Snape's brows to furrow and she quickly looked away, the tea in her cup sloshing over the sides as she set her cup down.

'More Muggle-borns have gone missing,' Ginny said suddenly.

Hermione was jarred out of her haze. 'How many?' She reached over to jerk the copy of The Daily Prophet out of Neville's hands.

'You won't find anything in there,' Ginny explained. 'It looks like You-Know-Who has managed to take over the newspaper as well. My dad sent an owl yesterday. I forgot to tell you.'

Hermione perked up. 'Any news of—'

Ginny shook her head. 'No. Nothing. Do you think they'd tell us anyway? It's likely Snape's having our post watched.'

Hermione pressed her lips together. She didn't think he was, but it was something she could potentially ask him at their next meeting. The thought made her tummy flutter. 'What about the Muggle-borns then? Anyone we know?'

'Unfortunately. Three wizards my dad knew from work who had their wands snapped. Dad was still in frequent contact but his owls have gone unanswered since. Then there's been a handful of families who have just disappeared altogether. Just up and gone. Also, Ted Tonks has vanished.'

A lump formed in her throat. 'Tonk's father?'

'My dad thinks he might have gone on the run, but obviously, Andromeda won't say anything. Probably for the best really…' Ginny paled. 'And.. there's been one family where they suspect foul play, on account of… well, what was left.'

Hermione swallowed thickly. 'Who?'

'Do you remember Mathew Darcy?'

'He had his wand snapped, didn't he?' Neville asked, his breakfast long forgotten.

'Yes,' Ginny nodded. 'Apparently, they found his family murdered, and Mathew is nowhere to be found.'

Hermione pulled her robes around her tighter, trying to fend off the cold, distant feeling seeping into her bones. 'That's terrible.'

Ginny fidgeted with her fork. 'Hermione,' she took a deep breath. 'What about your parents?'

Hermione's gaze flickered once again to the High Table, where she found Snape watching her over his tea with a furrowed expression. 'They're safe,' she said sharply. 'Anyway, I'm going to the library.'

'But you've barely touched your breakfast,' Ginny pointed out.

Hermione stood, smoothing her robes over her jeans. 'I'm not that hungry. And I've got a lot to do.' Impossible as it was, she could almost feel Snape's eyes still trained on the back of her head.

Ginny rolled her eyes. 'How is it you take less classes than most of us and yet still manage to spend more time in the library?'

Neville shook his head as he swirled the remains of his tea around in his teacup. 'Ginny, come on.'

Ginny stared at him. 'What? It's true.'

'It's fine Neville,' Hermione assured him. 'It's not like I have anything else to do. Don't start—' she warned when Ginny opened her mouth. 'Besides, I don't just do my own studying anymore. I've really enjoyed tutoring some of the younger years.'

'I'm glad,' said Neville. 'You are really good at explaining things. I can see why so many of the younger kids look up to you.'

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. It had been a long time since she had heard anyone give her such praise. His comment was a breath of fresh air, filling her with such warmth and gratitude that on impulse she swooped down to place a kiss on his cheek. 'Thank you, Neville, that's a really kind thing for you to say.'

Neville's face turned crimson and he touched the spot where her lips had been with his fingers. 'Oh er— anytime.'

Without another glance at the High Table, Hermione left Ginny and Neville in the Great Hall to find solace in the one place she could call home.

Thursday found Hermione locked away in the library, once again. Her tutoring sessions were complete, she pulled her stack of textbooks closer and tried to start on an essay on Transgifuring Tortoises to Trumpets. It was one of the suggested readings from the Transfiguration textbook she had purchased at the beginning of the year. The concept was a little tricky, and she wished she were able to ask Professor McGonagall for assistance.

When she received her new schedule for the year, none of her teachers had explicitly stated that she couldn't come to them for help, but equally, they hadn't made any direct contact. She had taken up on McGonnagall's offer for tea on one occasion after first arriving at Hogwarts, but they spent the majority of the time sat in awkward small talk and Hermione agreed it was probably best if she didn't try to spend too much time around the ex-Headmistress.

Which was quite frustrating, as it meant that she was left trying to work out a particularly difficult theory herself, with limited resources and no one to bounce ideas off of. It left her feeling frustrated and mentally drained, which meant her mind kept drifting back to the dark alcove, visions of Snape with his head in his hands playing over and over. Under the desk, her thumb absently stroked at the tendon in her wrist.

Her stomach twisted in knots, she was too nervous for dinner and left the library when Madam Pince came around to warn students she was soon closing up for the evening. Hermione felt both giddy and sick as she packed up her things and finally made her way down towards Snape's old office.

She reached the bottom of the staircase to the dungeons, the cold autumn air stinging her face when Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle came around the corner.

Hermione felt as though she had been tossed into the bottom of the Black Lake.

Malfoy cocked his head to the side, his hands on his hips as he regarded her cooly. 'And what do we have here? Last time I check this wasn't the Gryffindor tower.'

Goyle snickered. 'Little Mudblood must be lost.'

'Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?' Crabbe asked, pushing the sleeves of his robes up over his elbows.

Hermione licked her lips nervously, taking a step backwards. 'I— I was just out for a walk.'

One of Malfoy's eyebrows raised and the gesture reminded her of Snape. The last time she had been caught by the Potions Master after an altercation with Malfoy Snape had literally backed her against the wall before crooning into her ear. It was the first time she had noticed his voice had held such a magnetic quality. But he had also docked her points that night, and she was sure if she'd get caught now — on the way down to see him, no less — he would be beyond furious.

'A walk?' Malfoy asked. 'Do I look dumb? You have no reason to be down here. You don't even attend Potions classes anymore. Unless…' a slow smirk spread across his face. 'Would you look at that, Granger's a thief.'

She folded her arms across her chest, feeling suddenly outraged. 'I beg your pardon.'

'Then tell me why you're skulking around,' he pressed, taking a step closer. His right hand slid between the folds of his robes and she swallowed thickly. She wasn't good at lying like Ron or Harry. It was one of her weaknesses, as Snape had often pointed out.

Stupid. Stupid. She had let her nerves get the better of her. She should have checked the map and anticipated that there might still be Slytherins hanging about. Or worse.

How are you going to get out of this one, little lion? Snape's voice whispered in her ear.

Her arms still hugged to her torso, she slowly shifted her weight, subtly pushing her wand from it's hiding spot in her sleeve. She had learned her lesson from being caught without her wand in her hand. She wouldn't let it happen again.

'Well?' Demanded Malfoy.

'I told you. I was out for a walk.' The smooth wood of her warmed in her palm.

'Lying bitch,' hissed Crabbe. He took a step toward her.

Hermione's gaze darted between them, calculating the odds. There was no possible way she was going to walk out of the dungeons without a fight. Nor make it to Snape's dungeons office, she realised with a pang of mild disappointment.

'Okay,' she said calmly as if speaking to a rabid dog. 'You're right, I shouldn't be down here. I just… I'll go.'

'No, I don't think so,' Malfoy said, shaking his head. He pulled his wand from his pocket and tapped it against his chin.

It happened quickly. One minute Malfoy was staring at her with a cocky look on his face, the next the narrow corridor exploded into noise, a bright jet of orange dancing off the walls. Hermione ducked into a crouch, her shield of blue flaring around her before she flung a stunning spell at Crabbe.

Malfoy and Goyle rounded on her furiously.

'What the hell!' Goyle shouted.

'Ask him,' Hermione growled, jerking her chin at the unconscious Crabbe while keeping her wand trained on Malfoy. 'I was defending myself.'

Malfoy was watching her carefully, his wand down by his side while Goyle held his wand up in defence. Months of training under Snape told her to quickly catalogue Malfoy's seemingly deliberate gesture and move on.

'You've attacked another student. Tell me why I shouldn't take you to Professor Snape this moment,' Malfoy asked, his tone light.

'It would only be lies. Crabbe attacked me first. I'd swear it under Veritiserum,' she countered, holding her wand a little higher.

Goyle restlessly shifted beside him. 'C'mon Draco, forget Snape — we can deal with her ourselves.'

'You think so?' Hermione took a step back and widened her stance.

Breathe. Think.

'I took down both Malfoy and Harry before in the same fight,' she continued, 'and Harry is twice the fighter you are, Goyle.'

Goyle gave her an ugly sneer.

'Credit where credit due, you fought decently for someone of your blood,' Malfoy retorted, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. 'As entertaining as it would be to watch you fight Goyle, I'm not in the mood to explain to Snape why either of you has been blown to pieces. He's in a rather prickly mood lately, if you haven't noticed.'

Hermione wasn't dumb enough to lower her wand. 'And what's in it for you?'

Malfoy clicked his tongue. 'Why can Benevolant Potter be the only one who can do a good deed?'

She snorted. 'I've known you for six years, Malfoy. You don't have a kind bone in your body.'

Watch it, girl.

'I'm wounded,' Malfoy mocked, placing a hand on his chest. 'For that, you've got exactly five seconds to get back up those steps before I change my mind.'

'Draco—' Goyle argued.

Hermione hesitated, her gaze flickering to the wand at his side. As if sensing her unease, Malfoy made a show of tucking his wand back into his robes.

She didn't need to be told twice. She backed up two steps before sprinting down the corridor as fast as she could.

'Un-fucking-believable!' Goyle shouted.

Then—

Something cold looped around her ankle, jerking her backwards. Her knees collided painfully with the floor, knocking her teeth together.

'Leave her!' Malfoy roared.

'You said it yourself, she came down here for a reason,' Goyle yelled. 'We should interrogate her.'

Hermione gave an experimental tug at her leg but found it fastened tight to the stone floor as if bound by invisible manacles. Slightly panicked, her hands instinctively reached for her wand, but it was nowhere to be found.

'I changed my mind,' said Malfoy. 'Go back to the common room. I'll handle this.'

She turned around the best she could to see Malfoy and Goyle nearly inches apart, staring each other down. While Malfoy towered over Goyle, his height an advantage, Goyle was burly and looked like he could easily take Malfoy down in one punch. It would be an interesting match if nothing else.

Stop waiting around and get out.

'So bossy,' she muttered under her breath. In changing positions, she could see that her wand had rolled back down the hallway, just a little ways from her feet. Her eyes trained on the boys she slowly began to edge her way towards her wand.

'And who's going to make me? 'Cause it ain't going to be you, ferret,' Goyle hissed, shoving Malfoy hard.

The smug look that was normally plastered over Malfoy's face slipped just enough. 'Have you forgotten who I am?'

'A shitty excuse for a Death Eater,' Goyle laughed cruelly. 'One that can't even get a job done properly.'

Malfoy turned purple. 'How did you—'

Now.

Hermione used their fight as a distraction, lunging forward the last few feet to try to reach her wand. But Goyle caught her movement and his arm came down in a vicious slash.

'Lingchi Sectra!'

Flame lanced her cheek and she fell back, her head smacking against the ground.

'Expelliarmus!' She heard Malfoy cry. 'I might be a shitty excuse for a Death Eater, but don't forget that I am one and you are not. And that means that for now, my word goes.' He hissed cooly. 'Take Crabbe back to the common room.'

'But—'

'Go,' he snarled.

Hermione eased herself back up onto her elbow and wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand. Her hand came away coated with blood and she swallowed a whimper. She had faced much worse. She would not let herself be taken down by a spoiled brat and his thug friends. She thought she heard Goyle grunt before footsteps vanished down the hall, and the only sound was her heavy breathing.

'Get up,' Malfoy said, his voice low.

Hermione pressed the sleeve of her robes against her cheek, wincing sharply at the pain. Malfoy waved his hand and the bonds eased from her ankle. Slowly she pulled herself off the floor.

Malfoy glared at her in disgust. 'I should finish the job.'

'So why don't you?' She growled.

'Don't fucking tempt me, Granger.' His eyes darkened. 'I don't know why you were down here or what you're up to, but I know it wasn't for any decent reason. A Muggle-born like you shouldn't be wandering around the castle alone. Especially not where she's not wanted.'

Hermione kept her mouth shut.

'Go. Before I change my mind.'

Her eyes darted down towards his feet. 'My wand.'

Malfoy breathed heavily, and for a moment she was so sure he was going to send her away. But then he lifted his foot and kicked it down the corridor towards her. She darted down and snatched it from the floor, the pulse in her face growing. She held it against her chest.

'Hurry the fuck up,' he hissed.

For the second time, Hermione turned and ran up the stairs back towards the Grand Foyer.

It wasn't until she reached the top that the spark of adrenaline wore off and she lunged forwards, bracing herself against the wall. The fire in her face was beginning to spread, and the sleeve of her robes was practically dripping. She felt dizzy and disoriented as hurridly shrugged out of her robes, balling them up against her face.

Well, that was a fucking mess, Snape hissed. Your lucky Malfoy didn't take you up on your offer.

'Oh bugger off.'

You'd better get yourself to the hospital wing before you bleed out.

By a sheer miracle, Hermione arrived at the hospital wing without bumping into another soul, her robes pressed to the side of her face.

'Goodness, Miss Granger. What happened?' Madam Pomfrey shrieked at the sight of her. Hermione let the matron pull the robes away, wincing as the wool stuck to the cuts. Madam Pomfrey's face turned a deep shade of red. 'This is dark magic, this. Go sit on the bed over there, and we'll see what we can do.'

Hermione wearily sat down on one of the beds, splots of red dripping from her chin onto the pristine white bedsheets. She knew it wasn't her fault, but she still felt guilty for staining the sheets. Madam Pomfrey returned with a bowl of steaming yellow liquid and a rag.

'This is going to sting,' she warned before beginning to clean the wounds. Hermione exhaled slowly through her nose, gripping the edge of the bed with white knuckles as she tried not to move. When her face was clear, Madame Pomfrey held her chin gently, tilting it side to side to check the injurt. 'Do you know what spell was used?'

Hermione chewed on her lip. The whole incident was still foggy. 'No… I didn't… Sectum-something. I'm sorry.'

Madam Pomfrey gave her a sharp look. 'Don't you apologise for anything. This is Snape's fault for allowing students to meddle with magic they don't understand.' She picked up the bowl, the liquid now a deep orange colour. It made Hermione feel queasy. 'Stay here, I'll go see if I can find something to heal you.'

She left the curtain open as she went, and Hermione could see another girl curled up in the bed next to her. The girl couldn't be older than eleven or twelve; her blonde hair was pulled into a messy plait down her back and she appeared so small and frail as she hugged her knees to her chest.

'Hello. Are you alright?' Hermione asked gently.

The girl turned her head and blinked several times. 'Hi. Oh, yes, thank you.'

'My name's Hermione.'

'I'm Emma,' offered the girl.

Hermione smiled. 'That's a pretty name. My mum's called Emma, you know.' The thought of her mother's warm face made her chest constrict tightly.

'It's a dirty name.'

Hermione frowned. 'Who said that?'

'Professor Alecto.'

'She's no professor,' scoffed Hermione. 'And she's an evil woman.'

'She said it's perfectly good for a dirty Mudblood like me.' Emma sniffed and pulled her legs tighter to her chest. 'She said people like me shouldn't be allowed to learn magic. She said I must have stolen it from a better witch. But I didn't steal it. I wouldn't even know how.'

'That's just nonsense,' said Hermione, trying to keep her tone gentle. 'You know, I'm a Muggle-born too.'

Emma's eyes went wide. 'You are? Did Alecto do that to your face?'

Hermione touched her cheek gingerly. 'No, it was some Slytherins. I don't think you should worry about them though, they haven't liked me for a long time.'

Emma looked off into the distance. 'That's why I'm here. A group of Slytherin boys locked me in a cubicle with a ghoul. I was there all night.' She shuddered. 'I'm alright, but Madam Pomfrey told me I could stay as long as I wanted.'

The thought of an eleven-year-old being bullied made her blood boil. No one had any right to do that to another person.

'That shouldn't have happened. It sounds like you were really brave.'

Emma gave a ghost of a smile. 'Yeah. I guess I was.'

Madam Pomfrey swept back into the cubicle with a small jar of paste. 'This is the best I can do, I'm afraid. I have some experience with the Dark Arts but I'm really not equipped to deal with such injuries. Normally I would have sent you to Professor Snape but…'

Hermione nodded. 'It's okay. I really appreciate it anyways.'

Madam Pomfrey handed her the jar. 'Put this on twice a day. It should heal within a few weeks. It might scar, I'm afraid, but there's not much I can do without the right potions.'

Hermione tucked the tub into her folded mess of robes. 'I'll be fine. Really, thank you.'

When Madam Pomfrey tottled off to help another student vomiting slugs, Hermione hopped off the bed and stopped beside Emma's.

'Before all this, Muggle-borns used to learn Transfiguration and Charms just like everyone else.'

That perked her up. 'Really?' Gasped Emma.

Hermione nodded. 'Yes. The next time you have a free period, come to the library. I'm nearly always there. I can't… show you much I'm afraid, Madam Pince would be terribly angry with me. But I think I've got my old first-year Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook in my trunk. It'll teach you the basics of how to defend yourself at least.'

Emma's smile was infectious. 'I'd like that a lot. Thank you, Hermione.'

If Emma was being bullied for being Muggle-born, then there were likely others too. Wrapped up in Snape's maddening game, she had been blind to the injustices happening around her. It was unfair and unethical to leave a child unable to defend themselves. Her anger followed her all the way up to the seventh-year dormitory.

'Hermione! Your face!' Gasped Lavender. Parvati abandoned her copy of Witch Weekly, jumping off the bed.

'Is it that bad?' Hermione asked. 'There are no mirrors in the hospital wing.'

Parvati was clearly trying not to visibly wince. 'It's not great.'

Hermione crossed over to the large mirror and tried not to cry. The whole right side of her face was covered in cuts of various sizes, red and puffy from whatever antiseptic potion Madam Pomfrey had used. She gingerly traced a particularly large gash across her cheekbone and fought back tears. She hardly considered herself vain, never really caring for charms and makeup like Lavender and Parvat, but there was something still deeply upsetting about having permanent facial scars for the rest of her life.

'Madam Pomfrey gave me this,' she said tonelessly, holding up the jar. 'But she said it won't do much for the scaring.'

Lavender came up behind her, gently brushing Hermione's hair behind her shoulders. 'I know a glamour charm that might hide it. It's not perfect though, I'm still not very good at them…'

'Was it the Death Eaters?' Parvati asked, her face pale.

Hermione shook her head. 'Slytherins. I'll bet you can guess who.'

Lavendar's nose scrunched up. 'Next time I see that dirty rat Malfoy I'll hit him with a boil curse. That'll teach him for messing with Muggle-borns.'

Hermine froze.

Ever since second-year, Malfoy had always looked down on her because of her blood status, often calling her foul names like Mudblood. But after he sent Goyle and Crabbe away he had called her Muggle-born, not Mudblood. In fact, she didn't think he had said the word once in the entire interaction. It was out of character, particularly given their current environment.

'It's okay,' Hermione lied. 'I appreciate the sentiment but he wasn't the only one who got in a shot.'

Lavender grinned. 'Good on you. I hope you hexed his bollocks off.'

Hermione smiled, the movement pulling at the muscles in her face. 'I think I'm going to get some sleep if that's alright. It's been a long evening.'

Parvati and Lavendar nodded vigorously.

'Of course,' Parvati said. 'Whatever you need. We'll wait for you before going down to breakfast and show you that glamour.'

After the fight in the dungeons and her meeting with Emma, Hermione felt bone tired. She crashed into bed, the guilt of missing her meeting with Snape causing her to toss and turn all night.

Snape was absent from breakfast the next morning. Hermione sat between Ginny and Neville, tilting her chin forward so her hair would fall over her face to hide the glamour Lavender had cast. Ginny and Neville looked nearly about to jump the Slytherins when Hermione had explained to them what had happened the evening previous and why she had returned so late. But although she half-welcomed the idea of them pulverising Crabbe and Goyle in her honour, she decided it was best if she swept the whole thing under the carpet. The permanent scaring would be enough of a reminder of her failings.

And fail you did, Snape reminded her, sitting on the edge of her bed as she applied the paste to her cuts that morning. You should have never let them catch you.

'The only reason I got caught was because I was visiting you,' she had retorted boldly, glaring at him through the mirror.

Don't get cheeky with me, girl.

After breakfast, she followed Dean and Seamus out of the Great Hall to Arithmancy. She hopped over the vanishing step and was nearly at the top when suddenly there was a loud crack and the feeling of her satchel being tugged from her arm. Dean and Seamus, who were on the step ahead, turned around.

'Ah damn, Hermione, your bag's split,' Dean pointed out.

Hermione pulled her satchel in her arms to find the bottom seem had ripped open, her books, quills and jars of ink all littering the staircase. 'Just when this day couldn't get any worse,' she groaned. 'You go on, there's no point in us all being late for class.'

Hermione repaired her bag before slowly walking down the stairs, collecting her belongings along the way. She sighed at the sight of Snape's copy of Advanced Potion-Making, the spine now split completely from the pages. When she reached the bottom, she was dismayed to find her favourite bottle of ink had smashed entirely.

'Miss Granger,' came a soft voice from behind one of the suits of armour. She stared at it wild-eyed, surprised by the new revelation it could speak before she realised Snape was standing in a little alcove behind it, his arms crossed his chest and his face thunderous. Checking over her shoulder she stepped into the space with him. It was smaller than the alcove they had met in on the sixth floor, and she found herself nearly pressed up against him.

'I suppose this is your doing,' she commented dryly. 'It was completely unnecessary. You've wrecked a book and destroyed my favourite ink.'

'You missed our appointment last night.'

She tilted her head back to meet his gaze. 'Unintentionally, sir.'

His eyes narrowed at her use of his honorific. 'Unintentional or not, I expect you to keep to our appointment. I do not like those who waste my time.'

She clicked her tongue. 'Right, well, I'll try to remember that the next time I get attacked by one of the students of your house.' Annoyed by his response, she turned to leave when his arm darted out, catching her chin. Instead of forcing her to look him in the eye, he tilted her head towards the light.

'What's this?' He demanded.

Hermione didn't try to pull away. 'A glamour charm.'

'Yes I can see that, although a poor one at that,' he said. His wand came up and she felt the tingle of a Finite Incantatem as the charm fell away. His grip stilled. 'Granger…' His voice sounded hoarse.

Hermione turned back to see his eyes were dark. His finger brushed along the myriad of cuts and she flinched away from him, feeling embarrassed by her markings. Snape dropped his hand and stepped back against the wall, putting as much distance between them as the tiny space would allow. She didn't know why his rejection stung so much. She held her hand up to her cheek, feeling incredibly self-conscious.

'I held my own well enough. You needn't worry about me.'

'Who did this.'

'Does it matter?' She countered. 'You can't do anything about it even if I told you.'

His face was impassive and disinterested. 'You said it was a member of my house so that narrows things considerably. But…' He studied the wounds and she tried not to fidget. 'It wasn't a Death Eater. I would have been notified of any transgressions. This is Dark Magic.'

'How observant,' she sniffed. His eyebrow twitched but he didn't reprimand her for her cheek.

'I assume you were clever enough to go to the hospital wing. What did Madam Pomfrey give you?'

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. 'She cleaned it with a clear yellow potion, and then gave me some awful smelling blueish-grey paste.'

'That's not strong enough to heal it without leaving a scar. Especially that large one.' He nodded towards the gash on her cheekbone.

'I'm quite aware of that, thanks,' she spat. 'Now, is there anything else I can do for you, sir, or can I get to the class I'm already late for?'

'Don't get smart with me, girl.'

Hermione cringed. It wasn't Snape's fault she had failed and let Goyle attack her in such a way. She ran her hands through her hair before pulling it forward again. 'I'm sorry. The whole situation has been incredibly infuriating. Even without them learning the Dark Arts, they're surpassing me! Transfiguration and Charms… They know more than me.'

'But you have the textbooks, do you not?' Snape pointed out.

She wanted to glare at him but took a slow breath in, tempering her emotions. 'I can't learn everything from a textbook. Some things must be taught.'

To her surprise, Snape laughed. 'So you finally admit it. Merlin help us, Doomsday must finally be upon our door if Hermione Granger has lost her insufferable know-it-all status.'

She placed her hands on her hips, her mouth turning up in amusement as she joined in his mirth. She tried not to put too much thought in the way her stomach flipped at the sound of her first name coming from his lips. 'Fair. But that still doesn't help me. I lost because I don't have the same skills as them. It's not a level playing field.'

Snape cocked his head to the side. 'Have you learned nothing from our lessons? You live in a world that has been constructed to oppress you. You will never be on their level.' Her disappointment must have shown on her face because he shook his head, his eyes glinting mischievously. 'That does not mean you can't still beat them.'

Hermione flushed, checking her wrist watch a way to avert her gaze. 'I'm ten minutes late to class. Professor Vector will be wondering where I am.'

'Pity,' he said, picking at his cuticles, 'perhaps you shouldn't have missed our appointment.'

She dragged her nails across the palm of her hand.

Don't react. He's just trying to get a rise.

'Yes, pity, that,' she responded, trying to match his tone. 'Unfortunately for both of us, the dungeons are rathered riddled with snakes, and I don't feel like getting eaten alive again.'

He narrowed his eyes and for a moment she thought she had crossed the line. 'Despite the fact that I am Headmaster, there aren't many private places I can count on within this castle. My old office is our safest bet unless you have a better suggestion.'

Hermione chewed on her lip. The castle was crawling with Death Eaters and other Voldemort sympathisers, and that didn't count all the other students who were constantly milling about. There were eyes everywhere. What they needed was someplace that was away from the dungeons, someplace that would be less noticeable if either of them were to be found lurking…

'Oh!' She gasped. 'That's it!'

Snape's eyebrow had risen nearly to his hairline, clearly unamused with her sudden outburst of energy. 'Care to share with the class, Miss Granger?'

'The Room of Requirements. It's perfect.'

She had been expecting Snape's face to light up with understanding and pleasure like she had cracked the puzzle. But instead, his face remained impartial. 'I'm not following.'

Her jaw dropped. 'The Room of Requirements. The place of lost things… You know, the sentient room that moulds itself to suit the user's needs.'

Snape shook his head, staring at her as though she had lost the plot.

She pressed her fist to her mouth, trying to stifle a giggle. 'Oh my god. Do I know something you don't? How is it possible you're the Headmaster of Hogwarts and don't even know of the Room of Requirements?' Snape openly scowled at her and Hermione bit her lip, still grinning. 'I'm sorry, Professor.'

He pinched the bridge of his nose. 'This… room… It's private? Somewhere where we're unlikely to be disturbed.'

'It's not perfect, but it's private enough. It's a risk but a very small one.'

Snape rubbed the skin along his jaw. 'Tonight then. During dinner.'

Anxiety swelled in her stomach again at the thought of spending time alone with him. She was suddenly conscious of how close they were standing in the cramped alcove.

'I'll be there.'

'You'd better be, or I'll have to start docking points,' he told her.

She stared at him. 'You wouldn't. Oh, how would I even begin to explain that one?'

His mouth twitched. He was teasing her.

'Get to class, Granger.' She turned on her heel, and her cheek tingled. 'Next time, find someone who knows how to actually apply a glamour.'

She tried not to smile. 'See you soon, Professor,' she promised.

And this time she intended on keeping it.

Checking her watch, Hermione walked down the corridor on the seventh floor, passing three times in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

I need a quiet place to study that cannot be entered by any other student, teacher or being.

The large oak door finally appeared in front of her and taking a breath she slipped inside. She had stepped into heaven. The room was smaller than it had been when they used it for DA lessons, but taller. Impossible windows, stretching nearly two stories high, let in the glow of the late afternoon Autumn sun as it descended behind the hills. A large fire roared along one wall with an oversized sofa in front. Hermione wanted nothing more than to curl up in it and spend the rest of her hours there.

But the best part was the books.

Low shelves encircled the room, crammed with books upon books. Hermione crouched down and ran her fingers reverently along the pristine spines. If she had known the room would allow her such luxuries she would have requested the room sooner. There was a soft knock at the door and she turned around, her wand ready in her hand. The door opened slowly, and Snape stepped through the gap.

He took one step into the room, and then another, his keen eyes cataloguing every feature. Hermione watched as the muscles in his face slowly relaxed, his eyes wide and wonderous as he stared up at the room in awe. The setting sun glowed against one side of his face, and Hermione was reminded of their fight in his office when he had all but banished her from his life.

It had only been a few short weeks ago, and yet it felt like a lifetime.

'This is…'

'It's incredible, isn't it?' She offered.

He ran a hand across the back of the sofa. 'It's not normally like this?'

Hermione stepped over to one of the windows, admiring the view down onto the Black Lake. 'No. I've only seen it configured once. We, er, used it for Defence Lessons.'

'Dumbledore's Army.' There was a note of displeasure in his voice.

'You knew?'

'Of course I knew,' he said, leaning against the back of the sofa with his arms across his chest. 'Nearly every bloody teacher knew about it. It was an admirable thing to do, I'll give Potter that.'

She glowed in the praise that was subtly directed at her between the lines.

'And you wished for this, exactly?' Snape asked, gesturing around the room.

'Well not this, exactly. I asked it to find me a quiet place,' she explained.

'Even after all these years the castle never fails to amaze me.'

There was a change in the air, a minor tension that wasn't entirely unpleasant that hadn't existed before. Hermione stood in the centre of the room surrounded by sunlight and books, and felt like herself and yet somehow not. An-inbetween. Snape stood before her, cool and foreboding in his dark robes and black hair, his eyes seeing through her as if he could sense the change.

'Come here,' he murmured.

She sucked in a breath and stepped towards him. She had been so absorbed by the depth in his gaze that she hadn't noticed the way his wand came up or the tell-tale tingle of the glamour vanishing. There was a clicking of glass and he pushed off the sofa, crossing the last of the distance between them. The tension in the air grew as he lifted a hand to brush her hair behind her ear, his fingertips grazing the soft skin. She felt her heart rate speed up and was glad for once he wasn't actually a vampire. She was fairly certain he'd be able to hear her heartbeat.

'Hold still.'

Her heart stopped completely when his fingers came up to gently run along the cuts on her face. The potion felt icy and left sparks in its wake.

'I've been thinking about your predicament,' he said slowly.

Hermione swallowed, her mouth too dry to speak. 'My…'

Snape's eyes flickered to hers and her tummy gave a funny sort of jolt. 'Your lessons. Or lack of, rather.' His brow furrowed as he returned to his work, his face full of deep concentration she had only witnessed when he was studying from his books.

'Oh,' she stammered, her brain barely able to form a cohesive sentence. Good god, what was wrong with her?

Snape hummed softly as he ran his thumb along the deep gash on her cheekbone. 'That one might scar, though if we're lucky it'll barely be noticeable.' He stepped back from her and the air suddenly felt cooler without him looming over her. 'Continue using the paste Madam Pomfrey gave you twice a day, and apply this once, a few hours after your first application.'

He held out the vial and a blush spread across her cheeks when her fingers grazed against his. She slipped the vial into her robes.

'I will tutor you. Transfiguration and Charms,' he explained, seemingly unaffected. 'As well as Defence Against the Dark Arts. Potions will be trickier without the right setup and tools, but I believe those skills are less pressing, given the current circumstance.'

Hermione blinked at him. 'You'll tutor me.'

His eyebrow raised. 'I believe that's what I just stated.'

'Right. Sorry. It's… It's very kind of you.'

Snape rolled his eyes and moved away, taking interest in the bookshelves that lined the room. 'Kindness has nothing to do with it. If you're going to assist me you must be at the top of your game. It will not do if you suddenly were to fall behind your classmates.'

Her head was still fuzzy as she moved around to sit on the sofa. 'Of course.'

'Don't forget we have a job to do.' He returned to her, a stack of textbooks in his arms. The expression on his face was enough to make her nearly laugh out loud. 'Did you not think to request ample seating for two people?'

She glanced at the squashy orange, two-seater sofa. 'Honestly, Professor? I don't think the Room really works that way.'

His mouth twisted into a sour look. 'I hardly think it's appropriate to sit in such a way with a student.'

She tried not to point out that he himself had taken liberties with her on numerous occasions, touching her wrist or hair when it was certainly unnecessary.

'Sorry, Professor.'

The sofa dipped with his weight and she winced when he dumped the stack onto her lap. She righted the top copy and did laugh this time, earning her a scowl.

'Hogwarts: A History?'

'How many Horcruxes has Potter managed to find?' Snape demanded. Her humour vanished as though he had flicked an electric switch.

'None. Even the locket he secured with Dumbledore turned out to be false,' she admitted.

'Precisely. Thus you and I must find them,' he told her matter-of-factly.

Hermione flipped open the book she had read a million times and began to comb the pages while Snape flipped open another book. She paused at the way the golden light outlined the overly-large shape of his nose and his Adam's apple. The book pressed against the vile at her hip.

'Professor?'

'Hmm?'

'How did you know what potion was needed to heal my face? Madam Pomfrey couldn't work it out.'

The page he was turning stopped mid-flip for a second before his nimble fingers smoothed it down. 'Because incidentally its the same one I modelled Sectum Sempra off of.'

'The curse Harry used on Draco,' she commented.

'The same very same.' A troubled look crossed his face and she wanted to reach out and smooth away the lines around his eyes.

'Thank you for the potion, Professor. Truly.'

Snape peered at her out of the corner of his eye and jabbed a finger at her book. 'Get to work,' he grumbled.'

Hermione bit her cheek to stop from smiling and delved into the history of the castle she loved dearly.

A/N:

EEEEK. Sorry, please don't hate me! I hadn't intended on taking such a long break between chapters, but I got caught up in entering Trope Treason for Potions & Parchment which can be found on the other fanfic site. I realised I have been eating and sleeping A Quiet Place for over a year now, and it was nice to have the creative break.

I hope the extra-long chapter makes up for it?

Thank you for the continued support :)

Playlist:
Pomegranate Seeds, Julian Moon