Hermione stared at the 'E' scrawled, spidery and thin-edged, over the header of her scroll. It was 'O' work, she knew it and he knew it- but still, it sat. Marring her paper like an infected blemish.

It wasn't the true grade. She knew that.

It was an invitation. Not manipulation as she had once thought when they had begun their little 'Conflict of Interest'. No, if anything, Severus and Professor Snape were completely separate from one another. Compartmentalized to a scary degree.

Like two different people.

But they were one individual. And every pin-point of him, flaw or not, Death-Eater or Professor, Severus or Snape- she found herself in some level of adoration.

But she had been firm.

And this was his second attempt at a rendezvous since their last. All of it made her want to cry, terribly so, as it wasn't just the aspect of his bed she was separating herself from. It was hours of intellectual speculation, theories, and experimentation.

Hours of him. Learning him, understanding him. Understanding his role. She knew too much, perhaps, and in these next beckonings, she was sure that they would find out about her too.

Hermione knew she had become somewhat of a third facet. An in-between of 'the good side' and 'the bad side'. Though even she was beginning to see it all for the gray slurry that it was. Truly was.

She was an…outlet. Something warm. Something soft. Like his bedsheets.

Then, she was staring at the 'E' again. Exceptional. That's what she was to him. An exception.

A tear built and fell, rolling down her cheek before spattering against the desk.

"Oh come on Hermione, it's a good grade!"

Startled, Hermione jerked hard against the desk, knees clipping the wooden lip. A flush of red swam against her cheeks as her mind started to pull excuses out of thin air.

"I-uh, Ginny, it's-"

The redhead, however, did not look like she was disgusted or judgemental. No, there was a smirk lighting her mischievous face as she stared down at the paper in question.

Oh. Yeah, that was right. It was an easy cover-up. She would go down to discuss her less than 'Outstanding' grade and now it played into a good excuse for why she was upset.

"Come on," Ginny repeated it, stretching the 'o' out into a funny whine. "If I got an 'E', I'd be jumping for joy."

"Pfft- well, you weren't the one to put extra work in, Gin." Hermione played back, quickly covering her face with her hands. "All that wasted time."

"Oi- what?" Hermione needed to remember that the common room was, in fact, the common room. Staring at notes from her lover- ex-lover, she had to remind herself- was not the smartest decision. Especially accounting for the fact Ron and Harry were no more than two meters away.

"Oh, that git." Ron made an ugly noise as he looked over from his game of chess, his red hair sticking up in an odd way as he shoved his hand through it.

"Nothing new," Hermione quickly balmed. "I probably rambled too long over the use of Asphodel. And, as Ginny said, it's an Exceptional."

It was Harry that gave her a surprised look first, followed up by Ron and Ginny who moved like they were double-taking a third eye she'd miraculously grown.

Oh. Shit. Hermione slouched in her chair as she dragged her hand down her face, covering up her mouth.

"Is he bullying you again?" Harry mentioned it slowly, recalling a few years back. The teeth incident, it reminder making her frown deeply into the palm of her hand.

"Ugh, Snape's a bastard!"

"Ronald!" Hermione snapped, carefully glaring so as to not show her sudden hurt over a bygone event. "Language, please."

"We can talk to Dumbledore again? Or Professor McGonagall?" Harry offered, already rising from his seat, Ron quick to follow.

Hermione could feel the particular build-up of aggravation, fear, and sadness bubble in her chest. Like a bubbling brew that shot electricity along her skin. She couldn't face him now-

"I-"

"Really guys?" Ginny cut in, head cocked. "I am pretty sure Hermione would tell us if Snape was overstepping."

Ha, yeah. Overstepping. "No- I, guys listen. I just don't feel like pushing this one. I have a Charm's essay to write for next Tuesday and I have a Transfiguration exam tomorrow."

All of it was true, which made her feel a little better about the snipped-away commentary that Professor Snape and herself had overstepped so many boundaries. Except overstepping had become a legitimate problem to the point that her Patronus was ungulate in nature.

"Are you feeling well?" Ginny mocked, gently, as she placed her hand over her forehead.

Hermione gave her a playful glare as she batted away her fingers. "Shut up, Gin, I am fine."

"Hmm, I don't think you're fine." Harry edged in, putting the back of his hand against her forehead as well. "Come on Ron, we need another opinion."

Hermione was already laughing when the third hand made it to her forehead. "You all are such arses!"

Guilt swelled in her, stuck against the inside of her skin. But it was behind a brighter facade as she tried pushing away from her friend's playful teasing. They didn't know and they wouldn't know.

"Can you blame us?" Ginny chittered, finally removing her hand and taking her seat. "I never thought I would see the day when you would settle."

"Mh, no," Hermione pushed back, subtly offended. "I just want to choose my battles."

Choosing her battles. Yes. She was choosing her battles. She couldn't fight with the memory of a woman long dead, so why would she even try anymore?

"Well," said Ron, a smirk sliding along one side of his face in a way that she once thought was handsomely boyish, and now just boyish. Kind of ill sat on his face. "If you aren't going to fight that-"

"No, Ron." Hermione clipped, almost waspishly practiced. "I have a Transfiguration exam. Remember?"

"Oh, come on 'Mione." Ron swung his arm over her shoulder, rocking her to the side as he pushed into part of her seat. She could smell his abrasive cologne in the back of her throat. "You just got your heart broken by an 'E' and Harry and I want to-"

"Ron."

"Well, Hermione, we do have-"

"Not you too, Harry!"

Peer pressure and an actually broken heart had Hermione staring at Ginny, as if she was going to save her. But her hazel eyes only reflected a brazen sort of mischievousness.

"Oh god, who else?" Hermione rolled her eyes before relenting, sharply wanting to forget that just down a few flights of stairs she could slip into the comforting presence of him. But she had to play the part. And maybe some good old Golden Trio troublemaking would right her…wrongness.

"No one!" Ron, grinned as he 'helped' her gather her belongings, burrowing that paper with the hidden invitation. "I'll just be us. Well, and Ginny."

To that, Ginny made a face at her elder brother and swept her own unfinished essays into her school bag, before giving a grin at Hermione. "Can't have you getting all the fun."

Hermione carefully put away her belongings. She could smell the brand of ink Severus had used on the tips of her fingers, the smell of potion ingredients just behind that. Something mint.

And she was lucky when her friends were turned away when another tear rolled down the curve of her cheek and spattered against her robes. It- she would feel better, wouldn't she? Eventually?

But right now it felt like she had been gutted. And it was only a touch of occlumency that kept her frayed edges from unraveling and spiraling apart. But that too was taught by him. Tainted, stained.

No-

No, he had molded her into something better. Something more capable of survival when the inevitable happened.

"Ready 'Mione?!" Ron wasn't looking at her, but that was good. He was…strategic. Still, after all his stupidity, he had that. Could have been a pureblood trait, could have been a result of living with so many siblings.

But he would have noticed something off, even if he couldn't place it. Especially when the excuse of a less that perfect grade had already been 'remedied'.

"Yes, Ronald." She bit again, using a cloying tone that pulled at the roof of her mouth. "Better hope I don't trade your pushing for a report."

But Hermione did not do anything of the sort. She had just as readily buckled down with them and stared at the circling footsteps on the Maurader's Map, allowing them to bypass the patrols and leave the castle with little more than a flourish to the fallen leaves outside.

And it served to distract Hermione, if only just a little, as they pushed further into the muggy dark of the Forbidden Forest. Little reasoning, beyond the escapism of the dreary castle walls.

The next day, when she was bereft with exhaustion and scraping by with her mug of coffee at the Great Hall, she still felt it. Her toast, slathered butter, lay hardly picked at. Harry and Ron didn't look an inch worse for wear and, while Ginny was nowhere to be found, it was clear she had taken the brunt of the late-night escapade at Hagrid's shack.

And yet. It.

It was they. And they were a pair of black eyes, not dark brown, that rested on her. And she knew better than to look at them.

But it pulled at her, like a magnet. It wrapped its fingers around her heart and pulled- and suddenly she felt like Orpheus looking back at his wife. However, it was her looking back and into the eyes that had watched her cum more than once. That had memorized the pattern of her ribs and the scars of her youth.

Hermione could not hide the sadness, although she had blocked his probing magic. Could not hide the doe-glaze and the sudden warp in her features, just a blink in her mask, before it dragged back into place. The gripping pain in a sudden crescendo for Severus and Professor Snape to see. No one, not even Dumbledore, had seen the interaction.

Then, her eyes were on her coffee and half-eaten toast.

His black ones were elsewhere.

The next potions essay, and the one after that, had sharp and electric-looking 'O' emblazoned in the corner. Like a wound.